Totally Stylish

It’s been another shitty week, so let’s turn it into a kitty week. So here is a cat, who acts as a purr-sonal stylist. Enjoy!

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Asshat of the Week: Diarrhea of the Mouth Edition

Different year, same Asshats. This is exhausting and I’m not even kidding. 2019 is gonna be a long decade.

Welcome to Asshat of the Week, where I find an asshat and place their asshattery on display for the entire multiverse to see. Because asshats are not sapient enough to realize that they are asshats; they are too busy inspecting the lower portion of their digestive tract and finding nothing of consequence. That is just how oblivious asshats can be on a weekly basis.

This week’s oblivious, bloviating asshat is a repeat offender: It’s the infamous asshat with a constant case of verbal diarrhea, Jesse Lee Peterson. You may not remember, but Jesse Lee was the asshat who swore that Brett Kavanaugh wasn’t a “real man” because he had only girls in his family and no boys and “real men” have masculine, macho, beefy, boy babies first! Because genetics just aren’t a thing in Jesse Lee’s world… until they are.

This piece was found via RightWingWatch and I’ll let the asshattery speak for itself. Just the first paragraph is a recipe for death via facepalm. I’m not joking:

On his radio program today, right-wing commentator Jesse Lee Peterson told a caller to break up with the woman with whom he has been in a relationship for five years because she has a child who was conceived via rape.

Yep, you read that correctly: Ole Jesse Lee told someone to break up with his long term significant other because she has a child. Oh, not a child that was willingly conceived, mind you. No, a child conceived. By. RAPE.

I couldn’t make this sort of asshattery up if I tried.

This morning, a 28-year-old caller named Caleb told Peterson that he has been in a relationship with his girlfriend, who has an 8-year-old daughter who was conceived as a result of a sexual assault, and that he has been helping to raise the young girl since she was three and that she often calls him “daddy”.

Okay, that’s not so awful. In fact, that’s rather heartwarming. But then we take a hard right into Asshatville, population Jesse Lee.

Caleb wanted to know if Peterson thought it would be okay for him to marry his girlfriend, but Peterson broke his heart when he declared that he could not because this young girl needs to be in a family consisting of her natural mother and natural father, who, in this instance, is reportedly the mother’s rapist.

JFC.

Why the hell should a family consist of a mother, daughter and a fucking criminal? So the guy shares DNA with the little girl; he doesn’t need to share a life with her. For extremely obvious reasons! But Jesse Lee makes everything so much worse by opening his noisehole and spewing forth vowels and consonants that string together, not to form words, but a stream of verbal diarrhea of massively idiotic proportions:

“Absolutely no,” Peterson declared. “Do not marry a woman … who already has children. It’s bad enough on kids when they don’t have both parents, it’s worse when a so-called step-parent steps in because the soul of that child—whether male or female—the soul yearns for a father, not a step-father or a step-mother. They want their natural father and natural mother, and especially their natural father. So, if this woman is a decent woman at all, she will sacrifice for her child, not for herself, but for her child and you’re going to be in the way.”

Hey, Jesse Lee? My husband would tell you to your lying ass face that no, he did not want a father. Because the one that was in the house was a festering pile of animal feces! But whaever, you’re the “expert”. And by “expert”, I mean blithering asshat.

And Caleb can’t “sacrifice” for his child? Because they have differing DNA? Are you effing stupid?! Is ever adoption in America null and void because the children don’t have genetic ties to the parents?! I’d say you were acting stupid, Jesse Lee, but this shit’s definitely not an act. Damn!

Also, souls are bullshit. Just saying, Jesse Lee.

“That’s heartbreaking,” replied Caleb, who then asked Peterson what he should tell this little girl to whom he has been a father figure for most of her life.

No, what’s heartbreaking is thinking you’d get any useful advice out of this assclown. If Caleb has a functional brain in his head–which I’m not exactly sure of, since he felt the need to call Jesse Lee and ask his opinion on this–he’ll figure out that this assclown is an assclown and he doesn’t need to take any advice from an assclown.

“Let her know that you are not her father and that you apologize for getting involved with her mother,” Peterson recommended. “[Tell] her not to be angry and to love her father, her real father, and don’t believe anything that anyone has to say about him, so that she can love her father and she will grow up a peaceful young lady and she will have a good life.”

You have GOT to be effing kidding me. No human being can be that willfully stupid but here I am, being proven horrifically wrong. Primus in a motherfucking planetoid, this is stupidity on a extinction level scale!

Tell me why exactly she should love a raptist, especially since A) he’s a fucking rapist and B) it looks as though he hasn’t had any contact with her at all. On top of that, why in the flying hell should this little girl have any sort of relationship with a fucking rapist?! Not only is that stupid, it’s downright fucking dangerous! What could this creep do to that poor child? No, the fact that this rapist shares a genetic link with this little girl will not suddenly make him an upstanding, decent, law abiding guy or convince him to not harm his child. He’s a rapist. He doesn’t give a shit about boundaries or consent. Seriously, Jesse Lee, do you even hear yourself when you speak or do you tune in and out?!

You know what kids need? They need loving parents. It literally doesn’t matter whether or not these parents are biologically related. It doesn’t matter if these parents are of the opposite sex. It doesn’t matter if these parents are of the same skin pigmentation. It matters that these parents love those children and take care of them. It’s not that damned difficult but for you, Jesse Lee, it apparently is. That small, coiled pile of excrement that’s resting in your cranium just behind your eyes can’t comprehend that. I doubt it ever will.

Or in this case, Asshat.

Consider yourself highly “honored”, Jesse Lee: due to this extinction level display of asshattery, you get a nomination for my first annual Asshat of the Year awards!

Asshat of the Year is exactly what it says; various asshats throughout the year will be nominated and on New Year’s Eve at 23:59, the “winner”–or more accurately, the biggest and most idiotic asshat of the bunch, which makes them the loser–will be announced. So mark your calendars: on December 31st, 2019 at 23:59, we’ll have the inauguaral Iacon East “Asshat of the Year” awards. I hope to see you there!

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Weekly Reader Vol 1 Issue 36

It’s time again for news and views that you can peruse! It’s another edition of the Weekly Reader! Have a blog post that you’re desperate to share? Found a story that you think no one can live without? Got something that you just need to share with the world? Drop a link–or three–in the comments!

American Children Faced Great Dangers in the 1930s, None Greater Than “Little Orphan Annie” (from the Smithsonian Magazine): “This imaginative power is precisely why some parents and reformers saw the radio in much the same way Ralphie’s mother saw the leg lamp: as a seductive villain, sneaking into their homes to harm the minds and corrupt the morals of their children. They saw the intense excitement Annie and other shows inspired in children and quickly concluded that such excitement was dangerous and unhealthy. One father, in a letter to The New York Times in 1933, described the effects on his child of the “all-too-hair-raising adventures” broadcast during radio’s “Children’s Hours.” “My son has never known fear,” he wrote. “He now imagines footsteps in the dark, kidnappers lurking in every corner and ghosts appearing and disappearing everywhere and emitting their blood-curdling noises, all in true radio fashion.””

Doctor Who’s latest season is the show at its most revolutionary—and its most traditional (from the AV Club): “No, the monsters aren’t a strength of this season. But then, the show never pretends it cares about channeling viewers’ nightmares in the way Steven Moffat did with killer angel statues or carnivorous shadows. Rather, Chibnall’s interest in science fiction lies more in world-building and, as Newman himself once described the genre’s appeal, using the future to safely say something nasty about the present. That’s most on display in “Kerblam!”, which uses the far-future equivalent of Amazon to critique automation and post-human corporate speak. Like most of this season’s best efforts, the menace lies entirely in the evil we as humans create.”

To Get Mental Health Help For a Child, Desperate Parents Relinquish Custody (from NPR): “The family had private insurance through Jim’s job, and Daniel also had Medicaid coverage because he was adopted. But neither insurance would pay for that treatment. Exhausted and desperate, the Hoys decided to relinquish custody to the state. If they sent Daniel back into the foster care system, the child welfare agency would be obligated to pay for the services he needed.

“To this day, it’s the most gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever had to do in my life,” Jim says. He went to the hospital and told Daniel, then 12, that they were legally abandoning him, so child welfare could take over. “I was crying terribly. But it was the only way we figured we could keep the family safe.””

I Was A Cable Guy. I Saw The Worst Of America. (from the Huffington Post): “For 10 years, I worked as a cable tech in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C. Those 10 years, the apartments, the McMansions, the customers, the bugs and snakes, the telephone poles, the traffic, the cold and heat and rain, have blurred together in my mind. Even then, I wouldn’t remember a job from the day before unless there was something remarkable about it. Remarkable is subjective and changes with every day spent witnessing what people who work in offices will never see — their co-workers at home during the weekday, the American id in its underpants, wondering if it remembered to delete the browsing history.

Mostly all I remember is needing to pee.”

To MAGA Refugees and Fox News Orphans (from John Pavlovitz): “Her story was heartbreaking and it was tragic—but it wasn’t at all unusual. The room that night (just like this country) was filled with people like her: Fox News orphans, MAGA family refugees, and Trump-Train widows. I hear their stories dozens of times a day.

They are grown children, turned away by parents.
Siblings driven apart in loud tantrums or in quiet disconnection.
Extended family members relegated to superficial small talk at holiday gatherings.
Spouses feeling a new alienation in one another’s presence.
Neighbors avoiding eye contact across hedges.
Church friends exchanging uncomfortable silences.
They are people forced into isolation, or choosing it out of self-preservation.”

Maybe Trump Is Good for Something (from Splice): “There’s the possibility that Trump will be impeached and convicted before the 2020 election. While Robert Mueller hasn’t found the smoking gun yet, all the evidence so far points to at least some form of treason. Perhaps 2019 will be the year America will finally see the president dragged from the Oval Office while screaming “Fake news!” and Mike Pence will take over as president. This might make the 2020 election a bit more difficult because the Democratic Party will have to work overtime to defeat an opponent who actually knows how politics work.”

‘We’ Did Not Miss the Rise of Right-Wing Extremism. You Did. (from Esquire Magazine): “To take the simplest argument first, “we,” of course, did no such thing, unless “we” is a very limited—and very white—plural pronoun. The violence on the right certainly made itself obvious in Oklahoma City, and at the Atlanta Olympics, and at various gay bars and women’s health clinics, and in Barrett Slepian’s kitchen, and in the hills of North Carolina, where Eric Rudolph stayed on the lam for five years and in which he had stashed 250 pounds of explosives for future escapades.”

Star Wars is Really a Cautionary Tale About Devoting All Technological Advancements to Death (from Tor): “In the Star Wars Universe, technology designed for war is highly valuable, and usually of higher quality than the ad hoc, poorly devised, and in some cases actively derided tech available for other purposes. Nowhere is this more clear than with everyone’s favorite duo of the series: C-3PO and R2-D2. Threepio is a marvel when you consider all that he can do, but his expertise is geared toward communication and diplomacy as a protocol droid. The fact that Threepio makes it possible to land virtually anywhere in the galaxy and communicate (as he does with the Ewoks when the Rebels get caught on Endor’s moon) should be a cause for constant praise. Instead, Threepio is treated like an annoying hindrance no matter where he tries to make himself useful. But Artoo—along with other various astromechs from the R3s all the way up to the more current BB models—is beloved by everyone. He’s the handiest tin can on this side of the multiverse. Unsurprisingly, astromechs are created largely for the purpose of enacting repairs on various ships and copiloting starfighters. Starfighters. You know. Tiny war ships.”

And that’s it for this week. Stop by again next time for even more articles of import that you may find fascinating. Until then, happy reading!

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Lucky Me

It was a close one, but I’m okay. 😉

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Copypasta

In more ways than one.

So, I found out why the schedule is the way it is: whoever has been putting it together has been copying and pasting the same hours. Apparently, they’ve done this for the next month, which is why my request for the 27th wasn’t honored. One of my co-workers will be talking to management about it; as to whether or not anything will change remains to be seen. I don’t have much confidence that it will. It’s all moot anyway.

Brewers On Deck is sold out. Prime and I couldn’t get tickets if we wanted. But, what should I expect? They were one game away from the World Series. But in any case, I am well and truly screwed.

Adding to that is the fact that I feel terrible; I made the mistake of taking a look inside the refrigerator tonight and out of the corner of my eye, spotted a few medicine bottles.

Sammy’s medicine bottles. They’re still in the fridge. I haven’t gotten rid of them yet. And seeing them pushed me over the edge.

Suffice to say, I had an awful cry and I feel drained. My eyes ache, I feel exhausted, and I just want to pitch myself in bed and go to sleep. But on the other hand, I’m still mentally screaming at myself, wondering how in the hell I could be so stupid and fail the cat so much. It’s been almost seven months and I still have bad days. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever feel normal again.

In any case, that didn’t help matters. I’m just glad that I’m off tomorrow; maybe a day to myself will help me feel better. It couldn’t hurt.

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Better Luck Next Year… Maybe

I hate to admit this, but I’m thinking about doing the adult thing and skipping Brewers On Deck this year. There are numerous reasons, such as Scamper, a possible lack of funds, and most importantly, the fact that I’ve been scheduled to work that day. Granted, I put in for the day two months in advance, but that doesn’t mean someone else didn’t do the same. So I guess I’ll suck it up and work.

It still sucks, though.

I thought that I had gotten my request in early enough; the scheduling is done three weeks in advance, so I figured two months leeway was enough time. Not only that, but I was planning on that day as my floating MLK Jr holiday, which we’re supposed to take in January. So I have no idea when I’ll get it.

Yes, I’m frustrated. Can’t you tell?

Whoever is responsible for the schedule isn’t doing their job. None of us in Member Service have gotten any of our request off forms back; no one has any idea as to whether or not they got a requested day off or not. It’s ridiculous. It shouldn’t be happening. But it is.

Well, there’s always next year. At least I can save up some petty cash until then. Because next year, I plan on going more than a little crazy. For obvious reasons.

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Chillin’ Like A…

We were supposed to get a full fledged winter storm today. Instead, we ended up with rain. Rain. In January. This means we’ll probably get another snowstorm in fucking April. But please, tell me again that climate change just isn’t a thing. 🙄

I’m not sure how, but somehow I managed to piss off my left shoulder. Sitting upright for an extended period will cause it to ache. It’s slowly getting better but it’s darned annoying. I hate popping acetaminophen so often; I’m not one to take any sort of drugs long-term unless they’ve been prescribed. Even then, I may not necessarily take a prescribed pain reliever; if I’m not in a lot of pain, I’ll skip it. (Seriously, I still have most of the Vicodin from my surgery. Out of twelve tablets, I took two. The chances of me becoming addicted to anything are fairly low.)

I may have to tangle with work; I put in for the 27th off and I’m scheduled that day. It’s only Brewers On Deck so no, I’m not irritated at all. Slag it all.

I’ve been staying off of Facebook for the past few weeks. I can’t say that I miss it. Far too many bigoted, opinionated morons on there with nothing of import to say, but they say it anyway and say it far too loudly. Like I said, I don’t miss it.

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