Mocking Safe Spaces: Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

safe-space-3_0

A little background:

A few weeks ago, I got invited into Pantsuit Nation on Facebook.  It started as a Hillary Clinton supporter group, but since the election, it’s become the kinda thing that’s come to be known as a “Safe Space.”

After being there for a few weeks and reading a bunch of posts, I just wanted to send a public message to any “politically incorrect” individual who thinks Safe Spaces are some kind of playpen for adults, filled with kittens and rainbows and unicorns where people pretend the world is cotton candy and everyone’s a special little liberal snowflake…

You have absolutely No. Fucking. Idea. What you’re talking about.

Safe Spaces exist to help people open up and share stories that they wouldn’t (or couldn’t) tell anywhere else.  They’re most associated with colleges because young people who’ve just moved away from their small, conservative hometowns may have never been able to talk openly about being LGBTQ.  Or a feminist.  Or a liberal.
Or a sex crime victim.

See, another word for Safe Space is “support group.”

So let me just clear something up: in a Safe Space…
…you will hear some harrowing shit.
…you hear some nightmare-inducing shit.
…you will get very angry at the motherfuckers who’ve marginalized and abused the participants.
…and you’ll be very goddamn thankful for your own sheltered existence.

Let me suggest – if you have even the slightest interest in our common humanity, that you find someone who will vouch you into a Safe Space. Then go, keep your fucking trap shut and just listen.

Just be prepared to hate yourself for ever, ever mocking the practice.

(oh and feel free to send this to any conservative friends who are being assholes right now)

Are You Fucking Kidding Me? Post-Election 2016.

scrooge-mcduck

Ya know, I wasn’t sure what to write next – and then I remembered that we just made a Reality TV character President.

This makes about as much sense as making a cartoon billionaire President.

No really.  Think about it, those of you who voted for anyone else:  would you be more or less worried about the future of this country (and the world) if half the electorate voted for Scrooge McDuck?

Personally, I’m on the fence.

So I’m inspired to try out a new feature called…

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

…where I discuss the general zeitgeist and maybe some current events that make me go are you fucking kidding me?

I think this may have some legs in the coming weeks / months / years.  First up:

“It’s gonna be okay / Calm down / Give him a chance”

“Oh, give President-Elect McDuck a chance,” you say.  “Once the inauguration rolls around, he’ll put on some pants.

Really?  Based on what evidence, white dude (it’s always a white dude)?*  You think a candidate who’s been an utter, juvenile asshole his entire life is suddenly gonna transform not only into a grownup, but into a grownup who can run the most powerful country on Earth?

Listen, white dude who didn’t vote for him: non-white dudes (and dudettes) right now have very real reasons to be afraid. We need to learn to shut the fuck up.

As for you, white dude who voted for him?  Fuck you.

I’ll tell you where that instinct to “comfort” people on the election result comes from – your ruined conscience.

This Is Not Normal.  If you went to the polls on Election Day and filled in the box that you knew read “racist with A.D.D.,” you need to live with that.  You want to make up for it?  Try and help the people who’re gonna get stepped on thanks to your abysmal decision-making skills.**

Do better.

“I know what the Democrats did wrong, it’s…”

Oh really, Monday-morning QB

Now excuse me while I do some holier-than-thou finger-waggling, but it seems like the left is doing a lot of holier-than-thou finger-waggling at the left for doing too much holier-than-thou finger-waggling at the right.

Cut it out, okay?  A White Supremacist is going to become the White House’s Chief Strategist.

We don’t have time for this.

Speaking of which:

Stephen Bannon – Chief Strategist Of The White (Supremacy) House

But “give him a chance.”

Guess what:  that was his chance.

Really.  Seriously.  How many chances does this guy deserve?  Isn’t that his one?

Celebrity

I’ve been watching The Crown.  It’s got John Lithgow in a fat suit and the Eleventh (Twelfth?) Doctor, so hey I’m on board.

It got me thinking of that time a bunch of paparazzi ran down Prince William’s mom.  Aside from her title, she was most famous for two things: having her husband put his dick somewhere else, and keeping children from exploding.

In that order.

And then, geez The UK just lost its fucking mind for a bit there, even turning on the Queen and saying she wasn’t mourning properly. Sure, royalty is its own thing but…

…damn.

That was a real big sign that something might be broken in all of us.  I don’t know if we listened then. I don’t think enough of us stood up when we heard Elton John yankovicking himself at her funeral and declared, “THIS IS NOT NORMAL!”

(They kicked me out of that record store, it’s a Victoria’s Secret now.
Anyway.)

I grew up in New York City.  When I was a kid, Donald Trump’s most laudable goal was bringing all New Yorkers together in universal loathing.

He was the guy who bought casinos like he was playing blackjack with daddy’s money and didn’t know how to stop saying “hit me.”  He was a walking reminder of how much the eighties sucked.  He was the Platonic Ideal of a millionaire dick. He was the one guy who made you feel a little bit better, because at least you weren’t as bad as him.

And that ridiculous goddamn hair.

Then along came The Apprentice.

[Insert rant about reality TV by someone who doesn’t watch it – well that’s not really true I like the one with the crabbers]

…but really, it’s a symptom.

Like many people, I wish I didn’t know who Kim Kardashian was. I feel like my world is just, incrementally, a little worse for knowing she exists. And yet at some point, a thought occurred that she actually pays someone to Photoshop her nude selfies. And I couldn’t get the thought out of my head.

How much does that person get paid? Do they do other stuff, or do they just wait for Kim to point her phone at herself? OMG, are they the same person who taught her how to tweet? They have much to answer for.

(Hey, remember when the President Elect made her go sell a fragrance?
Hey, remember how that was the President-Elect’s last job?)

It’s a disease, and we’re all infected.  You can see it in your feed, in the checkout line, on the ad crawl.  Breakups and hot messes.  Drunken rants and mugshots.  Upskirted limos, duckfaced selfies and fappenings.

And tweets.

That Andy Warhol prediction is looking more like he fucked us with a curse.

There’s a need in us to both elevate and destroy, and we’ve been feeding that need.  We’ve been gorging on it.  We have pop stars getting stalked by photographers 24-7 just to document it when the pressure makes them snap.  We tweet things to an actor we’d never say to anyone’s face just because they said something we didn’t like.

And Trump is the giant, orange expression of the disease.  He can be your surrogate bully or your easy target. You can make him out to be a genius businessman with his finger on the Fix My Life button, or the infant Nazi with his finger on the End-The-World button.  And he loves it.  Because there’s no aptitude test to celebrity.  No resume needed.  No common humanity even – hell, that can be drawback.

Trump is the logical outcome when people, on average, spend more time contemplating some actor’s marriage than our nation’s… anything. 

And so this is what we are.  A nation led by President Celebutard.

Good luck, everybody.  I think we’re all gonna need it.

And finally…

2016, are you fucking kidding me?
In no particular order:
David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, Maurice White, Mose Allison, Paul Kantner, Keith Emerson, Merle Haggard, Phife Dawg, Dan Hicks, Toots Thielemans, George Martin, George Gaynes, George Kennedy, Garry Marshall, Michael Cimino, Peter Schaffer, Harper Lee, Elie Wiesel, Steve Dillon, Gwen Ifill, John McLaughlin, Anton Yelchin, Steven Hill, Gene Wilder, Kenny Baker, Michu Meszaros, Eric Bauersfeld, Garry Shandling, Bert Kwouk, Sagan Lewis, Patty Duke, David Huddleston, William Schallert, Robin Williams, Ken Howard, Alan Rickman, Dan Haggerty, Doris Roberts, Pat Harrington Jr, Miss Cleo, Muhammad Ali, Joe Garagiola, Gordie Howe, Jose Fernandez, and Abe fucking Vigoda***

 *Yes, I know President Obama said it as well but he’s a better man that I am / the exception that makes the rule / what else can he say?  “Well that’s it, America.  We had a good run, but it’s over.  Start stocking up on potable water and ammunition.  Also, GET FUCKED.”  I mean it mighta been appropriate, but it wouldn’ta been Presidential.  I have a feeling we’re ALL gonna miss him.

**So instead of saying stupid “comforting” bullshit that makes your receptionist feel even worse, how about you shut the fuck up and donate to the following:
The Southern Poverty Law Center
Planned Parenthood
The American Civil Liberties Union
Human Rights Watch
Doctors Without Borders
And if you already do, donate more, until it hurts.  You have A RECEPTIONIST, you can cover it.

***That list is not complete, I kept it to deaths that meant a little something to me.  But if you don’t recognize a name, plug it into Google and you may be surprised to know that we lost R2-D2, Admiral Ackbar, Alf, Cato, Schneider and The Big Lebowski. 
And yes, I know we lost Phyllis Schlafly, Antonin Scalia, Nancy Reagan and Glenn Frey too.  No, it doesn’t make me feel any better.