tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66054761221145571222024-02-21T00:26:37.858-08:00Is there cheese in it?a blog about life. with real cheese flavor. Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.comBlogger188125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-61450948961136195712018-11-06T12:00:00.000-08:002018-11-06T12:00:10.184-08:00Make Racists Uncomfortable AgainHello. Happy Election Day. Hope you've already got your coffee, your "I Voted" sticker, and a yummy snack that'll sink your food diary for the day, because you deserve it.<br />
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I've been having some thoughts and wanted to write them down.<br />
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This weekend, I wore one of my "inflammatory liberal t-shirts," as a friend calls them, to my kids' soccer games.<br />
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One of the other moms - who seems like a great, kind, thoughtful person, came up to me and said, "I love your shirt. Good for you for wearing that here. I have a couple like that too, but I don't wear them out, because you never know what people's politics are, and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable...." At the time, I responded, "Ha, not me! Come at me, bro!" But I got thinking about it later, and basically what she was saying was, "I don't want to make racist people feel uncomfortable about their racism. Because, you know, aside from not liking brown people, they seem like totally reasonable folks. Why ruin their Saturday afternoon?"<br />
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Oh, and before anyone responds "Just because they're anti-immigrant doesn't mean they're racist." Yeah, it kinda does. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but I've never once heard anyone who's making the "Go to the back of the line/Just file your papers and do it the right way!" argument lamenting the illegal immigrants from Canada, or Russia, or China, for that matter. I knew an entire rugby team comprised of white dudes from New Zealand and South Africa who'd overstayed their visas and had no intention of returning home. I never saw ICE banging down their doors. Hell, there's a good chance FLOTUS was an "illegal immigrant" at some point and clearly Trumpsters don't have a problem with that. There seems to be a direct correlation between the GOP's anti-immigrant rhetoric and the amount of melanin in said immigrant population's skin. (Also also, immigrants are better educated and commit less crime than the US-born population. So they can just stop with the terrorists and bad hombre business.)<br />
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In any event. My point is. Making bigots uncomfortable is THE WHOLE POINT. Use your privilege! If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor." - Desmond Tutu.<br />
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In the words of Martin Luther King Jr. in Letter from a Birmingham Jail:<br />
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<i>I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.</i></div>
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<i>I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.</i></div>
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"What hurts the victim most is the not the cruelty of the oppressor but the silence of the bystander.... The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." - Elie Wiesel</div>
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So get out there, my friends, with your connections, your voices, your Facebook pages, your bumper stickers, your inflammatory liberal t-shirts. Let's Make Racists (and misogynists and homophobes and bigots of all sorts) Uncomfortable Again! MRUA! </div>
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Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-8571576846002247922018-09-24T20:23:00.001-07:002018-09-25T09:18:14.952-07:00If I were still a blogger, this is what I'd say about Brett KavanaughI haven't really been able to blog since The Bad Man moved into the White House. He broke me in my funny bone. A cousin recently said I should just quit my (new-ish) job and start blogging again, because I do more good blogging than I ever will lawyering. Which is really nice. (I think.) But honestly, I just have so much hopelessness and rage, it's impossible to wrangle it into words and wrap it up in a nice little package with just the right amount of wit and fury.<br />
<br />
Also I canNOT with Facebook, and that was where people used to find me, so... *shrug emoji.*<br />
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I sometimes think about what I <i>would </i>say, though.<br />
<br />
Really throughout the whole #MeToo movement, but especially in light of this Douche Bonnet Yalie Frat Boy SCOTUS nomination... I just cannot abide the disbelief. "Oh, no, he would <i>never</i>. Not the upstanding pillar of society that <i>I </i>know." Okay, first, he's a frat boy named Brett. Like, bro, have you <i>been </i>to a frat party? I think it's probably easier to count the number of frat parties where I <i>wasn't</i> varying degrees of violated. This shit is straight out of their playbook. They probably have a fucken Power Point. "How to be just the right amount of rapey. Like Goldilocks. Except with your dick."<br />
<br />
So yeah. Anyway. I’m ashamed to admit my initial reaction when I read most of these stories is, "That's it?" Effed up, I know, that I/we have become so accustomed to this pervasive abuse (of power, of trust, of our bodies and our self respect), that these tales sound so... ordinary... and expected. How sad that we have been conditioned to believe we are not entitled to outrage for these violations, as commonplace as they may be. You were drunk (or not), he was drunk (or not), he stuck his hand up your shirt (or down your pants), grabbed your lady bits, held you down on the bed (or against the wall), held your wrists behind your back, even though you said "Stop" or "No," or covered your mouth so you couldn't. Most of these things have happened to me, personally, and to many of the women I know, too. From the age of 14 to the age of 44. Sometimes it's someone you know, and sometimes it's a total stranger, in a long dark hallway waiting for the bathroom, on a slick and sticky dance floor, in moving car, on a romantic walk in the woods that took a turn for the worst, or predictably, on a rickety twin bed in someone’s dorm room.<br />
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It happens. All the time. "No" didn't mean no. And it leaves you spooked and shaky, but you think, "Well, it's not like he <i>raped</i> me or anything." Not that it was <i>okay</i>, but I would never have dreamed of reporting it. I just figured it was the "price of doing business." "What did you think was going to happen when you wore that outfit and drank too much Jungle Juice?" I usually told a friend, or two. They had stories, too. We'd talk about it the next morning, or a year later if something sparked that particular ignominious memory, or sometimes not at all. We compiled mental rolodexes of guys not to be drunk and alone with. That's smart. That's safe. That's how you "avoid being raped." I'm not even kidding, I'm pretty sure our RA's gave us a little talk to this effect freshman year. Did they give a talk to the boys about, maybe, not being rapey? I doubt it.<br />
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But then I think about teaching my daughter "how not to get raped, not even a little bit," and I think, EFF. THAT.<br />
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Here's a crazy idea. How about... don't rape people?! Like, at all. Not when you're 15 or 17 or 25 or 72! (Apparently I am in the minority, but I think the notion that something terrible you do in high school might haunt you thirty years down the road is actually a great thing?!)<br />
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So, let's just lay some ground rules: Don't put your BLANK on their BLANK unless they say that's okay. They're allowed to change their mind at any time, and you do not have a standing reservation. Let's stop acting like we don't know when a line has been crossed. We know. And we can't put up with it anymore. For our daughters and our sons. This ends with us. (I mean, I'm speaking hypothetically here. It's been a looooong while since anyone who was not legally obligated tried to touch my vagina.)<br />
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I'm not saying call 9-1-1 if you're having a drunk make out session with someone and they try to grab The Lost Jewels of Nabooti and you say stop and they don't, at least not right away. I don't know. You have to do what feels right for you. But I <i>am </i>saying we don't have to - in fact we absolutely cannot - pretend it's okay, sweep it under the rug, or believe it's within the realm of socially acceptable behavior. Because it's not.<br />
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I guess I'm mad at myself because I am a strong, smart, independent woman and I feel like I "let" these things happen, by exercising poor judgment, by not saying "Stop" convincingly enough, by not calling these people out when it happened, to their face, to their friends, to their secret society of fraternal douchery, thereby allowing it to happen to probably countless others. I see myself when I read these stories. Fox News would 100% be able to find a photo of me smiling at a party next to the guy that definitely assaulted me while I was blackout drunk three weeks before. Does that make what he did any more okay?<br />
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This was almost 20 years ago. But I'll tell you what. If he runs for office or a judgeship or god forbid the Supreme Court of the United States of America - you can bet your ass I'll be telling you his name.<br />
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And don't even get me started on the "lesser" evil of sexual harassment without actually whipping out your dick or physically assaulting someone. Ugh. I'll save that for next year's blog post ;)<br />
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Oh, and on the other side, the whole thing about "Well, <i>Dr. </i>Ford's allegations must be legitimate because she's a <i>professor</i>," as if you need a PhD to substantiate your sexual assault story. So gross. Just don't.<br />
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Okay thanks bye.<br />
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PS. Life is not all bad and my children are enormous.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Girl and her dad</td></tr>
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Also have you read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Missoula-Rape-Justice-System-College/dp/0385538731" target="_blank">Missoula</a>? You "should."<br />
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(Also also. Yes. Innocent until proven guilty, and I get that the notion of false accusations are terrifying, but a) that rarely happens ("studies have shown" less than 25% of sexual assaults are even reported, and only a small fraction of those are ultimately unfounded or unproven), b) if you are making it up, do you volunteer to take a lie detector test and ask the FBI to investigate? and c) all people are asking is that they do just that - investigate - before forcing the nomination through and letting this guy sit on the highest court in the land, with the ability to affect laws as they apply to women's rights and bodies, for the next 30 to 40 years.)<br />
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The End.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Several of them, actually. Patriots. </td></tr>
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<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-5048468936804110322017-10-03T15:15:00.001-07:002021-04-12T16:36:32.606-07:00With All Due Respect, Your Argument is F*%ing StupidI'm baaaaack :)<br />
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Did'ya miss me? I don't miss Facebook, not even a little bit, but I do miss you guys!<br />
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Anyway, as you may or may not know, senseless mass shootings are a bit of a trigger for me. (No pun intended.)<br />
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Obviously, I could prepare a dissertation on this subject (and have basically written drafts of such, <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/from-my-cold-dead-hands.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/06/guns-gays-gods.html" target="_blank">here</a>).<br />
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But I don't have time for that.<br />
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I just want to address one tiny part of the INSANITY that is the gun control debate.<br />
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The people that say "Oh well more people die in car accidents than from guns each year so why don't we outlaw cars, huh? What do you have to say about that, huh, smarty pants libtard? Huh? Huh?"<br />
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I'm so glad you asked.<br />
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1) Cars' primary purpose is transportation. Guns' primary purpose (at least automatic/semi-automatic weapons such as those used in the Vegas shooting (and San Bernadino, and Pulse Nightclub, and Sandy Hook), which is what most people are talking about when they say "common sense gun regulations") IS TO F*CKING KILL PEOPLE.<br />
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2) The ownership and operation of vehicles IS HIGHLY REGULATED. The purchase of a vehicle is a tortuous process that involves a small mountain of paperwork. You are required to register your vehicle on an annual basis and ensure that it is in proper working order. MOST IMPORTANTLY, YOU HAVE TO TAKE A DETAILED TEST IN ORDER TO OBTAIN A LICENSE TO DRIVE A CAR. You have to re-up that license, and demonstrate your physical and mental fitness for continued operation of that vehicle.<br />
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Jesus Mary and Joseph. It's not F*CKING rocket science.<br />
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So yeah. Anyway. As you can see I've really calmed down and tapped into that deep hidden reserve of zen in the year I've been away. Sigh. I can't even talk about Tom Petty, or Puerto Rico, or Colin Kaepernick, or the vile human currently masquerading as the president of the United States right now.<br />
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Here is my prescription for surviving this world and not losing your got-damn mind:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just add alcohol. </td></tr>
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Suggested Reading:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2017/10/2/16399418/us-gun-violence-statistics-maps-charts" target="_blank">America's Unique Gun Violence Problem, Explained in 17 Maps and Charts</a> - Vox<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/crime/2012/12/16/gun_control_after_connecticut_shooting_could_australia_s_laws_provide_a.html" target="_blank">In 1996, Australia Enacted Strict Gun Laws. It Hasn't Had a Mass Shooting Since</a> - Slate<br />
<br />
<a href="http://every%20member%20of%20congress%20who%20took%20money%20from%20the%20nra%20and%20tweeted%20%27thoughts%20and%20prayers%27%20to%20las%20vegas/" target="_blank">Every Member of Congress Who Took Money From the NRA and Tweeted 'Thoughts and Prayers' to Las Vegas</a> - Splinter News<br />
<br />
Some of my favorite tweets on the subject:<br />
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Also these:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvG9iqfmDZRbf1cUVaFcllDsrZ2OuPUGMflGGgCTg7uySwJZlC3Eijj2bG2A5OBojarDAoYbNSGgPlVZY4f0rYHREmm8hnQhdwwoQO65lhMKYp6Nsdo1RZ-RkOdyGDCt2zk7pC5Ba2_pPJ/s1600/RIP+rupi+kaur.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvG9iqfmDZRbf1cUVaFcllDsrZ2OuPUGMflGGgCTg7uySwJZlC3Eijj2bG2A5OBojarDAoYbNSGgPlVZY4f0rYHREmm8hnQhdwwoQO65lhMKYp6Nsdo1RZ-RkOdyGDCt2zk7pC5Ba2_pPJ/s640/RIP+rupi+kaur.png" width="356" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">love her.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCGiGSb9ItkH2aBgdyNpqQkHQjW4fLKUGMk8FKByPBzMQQw4SSePBCE44uL_PTEP_pLUYhRB7A7d-6JmmW9F96jkCINxkLeYyKreSNoVQBQKzUYM4N-VfIzZulTySTwEmeOpoRruRiF34/s1600/Good+Bones.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="976" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCGiGSb9ItkH2aBgdyNpqQkHQjW4fLKUGMk8FKByPBzMQQw4SSePBCE44uL_PTEP_pLUYhRB7A7d-6JmmW9F96jkCINxkLeYyKreSNoVQBQKzUYM4N-VfIzZulTySTwEmeOpoRruRiF34/s640/Good+Bones.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brutal, but pretty accurately captures my current mood.</td></tr>
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<br />
K. Love you. Take care of yourselves. Bye.Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-15582561998742796572017-03-08T07:00:00.000-08:002017-03-08T20:23:02.356-08:00A Day Without A Feminazi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Lady Liberty knows what's up. I, however, failed bigly at #ADayWithoutAWoman.<br />
<br />
My husband had to leave at 6:30 am for a meeting so I was solo drill sergeant this morning. Then I had to take both kids to the doctor. I didn’t boycott work, unless showing up at lunch counts. I have to finish ten hours of work in half the time, before attending a board meeting at 6. Then I have to rush home to hastily feed and bathe the rugrats and listen enthusiastically to really, really long, meandering stories devoid of plot or, apparently, resolution, about their days (so weird, I have no idea who they get that from ;)) Then I'll read books in a chipper, animated voice and pretend I’m not counting the minutes until they fall asleep. I basically spent my whole day doing all the types of things that moms and wives and women do most waking moments of their lives, with little compensation or recognition.<br />
<br />
I wore red, though. So there’s that.<br />
<br />
I was totally gung-ho for the <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2017/01/the-implorables.html" target="_blank">Women's March</a>, but I felt more ambivalent about “A Day Without A Woman.” It seemed to me that the most vulnerable women among us are not in a position to strike, even for a day, so it feels a little like we’re missing the point? It’s also not as effective if only some people participate. But how incredible would it be if ALL women really did refuse to work today? As a coworker said, "Our office would cease to function." Hell, the WORLD would cease to function. And that's kind of the point. But unfortunately, that's not terribly practical or feasible. Can you imagine though? If nary a woman was to be found? That would really be something else.<br />
<br />
Short of turning the world upside-down, there’s something to be said about being visible, making our voices heard, raising consciousness, making people at least consider what a state the world would be in without the work that women do, day in and day out, morning and night, at home and at school and at the office and at the hospital and at the church and in the kitchen and at the construction site and in the sea and in the sky…. Women fuel the world. We might not be as loud and showy as the engine, but without us, you are going nowhere.<br />
<br />
There’s also something to be said for standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Me? I'm doing alright. I'm white. I'm not poor. I live in California. I work for a law firm founded and run by a woman. My commitments to my family are honored and respected. I am paid at a rate commensurate with my male colleagues. I make more money than my husband, in fact.<br />
<br />
And speaking of said husband, he takes on more or less an equal share of the unpaid work at home – the kids, the dogs, the house, the dishes and laundry, breakfasts lunches and dinners, the family taxi service, all of it. (You want to know the really messed up part? I catch myself feeling guilty about this. “He does so much! He probably resents me for it.” I wrote a whole post about this once. And the reality check my friend promptly gave me. She handed me a pen and a piece of paper and told me to write down the things I do vs. the things Daddy Mack does. He does half-ish. On a good day. So why do I feel bad?! Like I’m not fulfilling my wiferly duties or something? Buncha BS, that is! I kind of suck at feministing.) The sad thing is, with our 50/50 split, he does more than almost every other man I know.<br />
<br />
ANYWAY. The point is. Just because I am a woman and I have it pretty good doesn’t mean women have achieved perfect parity in our society. Far from it.<br />
<br />
These are just some of the reasons I resist, and why I will continue to do so:<br />
<br />
Because women and men are still not equal. Because America, and the world, are not always safe places for women, particularly queer women and women of color. Because strangers on the street tell me I’d look a lot prettier if I smiled. Because all my life men have told me I should dress/act/speak more like a lady. Because men have told me to "watch my mouth." Because judges and other old white male lawyers tell my I’m too young, too pretty, too sweet to be a lawyer. Because male employers and coworkers have critiqued my looks and my body behind my back, and to my face. Because each achievement in my life has been accompanied with loud whispers of, "Wonder what, or rather <i>who</i>, she did to get that grade/internship/promotion?" Because I've been grabbed by the pussy. By the tits and ass too. I think I was 13 years old the first time.<br />
<br />
Because this Administration has reinstated the Global Gag Rule, a spiteful GOP legacy that prevents millions of vulnerable girls and women in Africa and around the world from accessing birth control and family planning, HIV services, and child and maternal health care.<br />
<br />
Because SwampCare deems maternity coverage "optional," and includes a provision that will defund Planned Parenthood. I, personally, fully and unabashedly support abortion. But even if you don’t. Since 1973, the Helms and Hyde amendments prevent the use of federal funds to pay for abortion. So what you’re really defunding is birth control for two million people, 4 million STD tests, 360,000 breast exams, 270,000 pap tests, and more.<br />
<br />
Because there is no evidence that blocking access to abortion reduces the number of abortions. What it does do is increase the number of pregnancy-related deaths – up to double. I don’t know what kind of new math they're using, but this is where your pro-life argument starts to take on water.<br />
<br />
Because gender discrimination is prevalent in elementary education and beyond. Teachers call on boys more often, ask them more difficult questions, give them more feedback. Teachers actually fail to notice girls raise their hands as often. When teachers do call on female students, their interactions are more likely to involve social, non-academic subjects. Teachers more often choose boys to lead groups, give demonstrations, or help with an experiment. The proportion of attention given to male students increases from elementary to junior and then high school. Teachers also favor boys in their nonverbal behavior, including head nodding and encouraging smiles. Similar trends are shown along color lines as well.<br />
<br />
Because women are paid 80 cents on the dollar for equal work. The disparity is even greater for women of color. It’s worse for mothers too. (Yes, yes, I hear you terrible twitter trolls saying men just work harder. A) Fuck you. B) Maybe if you pulled your weight at home, your partner would be able to get ahead at work. It ain’t rocket science.)<br />
<br />
Because women represent a disproportionate percentage of the people in poverty.<br />
<br />
Because women perform a disproportionate amount of unpaid labor, including household and child-rearing duties, despite the fact that in the vast majority of two-parent families, both parents work.<br />
<br />
Because voter suppression efforts disproportionately target women, students, and people of color.<br />
<br />
Because women of color are negatively affected at much higher rates by police violence and mass incarceration (themselves, their families, and their communities).<br />
<br />
Because women are much more likely to be victims of domestic violence – 85% of victims are women. This includes physical, emotional, and financial abuse.<br />
<br />
Because one in three women experience physical or sexual violence in their lives.<br />
<br />
Because Muslim women, women of color, and the LGBTQ community are particularly vulnerable to discrimination in housing, employment, and healthcare. They are the victims of hate crimes at increasingly alarming rate. Transgender women of color especially are disproportionately affected by fatal violence.<br />
<br />
Because when I tell my daughter and my son the above and they ask, “How can we make it better?” I want to do more than shrug. I want to put my money, my time, and my heart, where my mouth is. Because passion without action is just observation. In the words of the great Angela Davis, “I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.”<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqa_D_jB-HLEFwUmWxlFsRw-RcIFLai6lrbJecO_Xc10R77x2MBRgX9ic8Q_JbTl2cDK8rFBtDgtNMQxBYNNQgV670diPksy3EVzZMnsrPzo9-bi4LeZvCKv1OW-A5bb7I6Od7o3-ZmFS/s1600/ambivalently.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqa_D_jB-HLEFwUmWxlFsRw-RcIFLai6lrbJecO_Xc10R77x2MBRgX9ic8Q_JbTl2cDK8rFBtDgtNMQxBYNNQgV670diPksy3EVzZMnsrPzo9-bi4LeZvCKv1OW-A5bb7I6Od7o3-ZmFS/s320/ambivalently.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ambivalentlyyours.com/" target="_blank">Ambivalently Yours</a></td></tr>
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Is this movement perfect? No. But to quote Hamilton the Musical: “Revolution is messy, but now is the time to take a stand.” If fomenting real, positive change were easy and convenient and uncomplicated, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The world would already be a better place. You have to <i>fight</i> for the things that are worth fighting for.<br />
<br />
Yet again, the internets seem to have earned their scout’s badge in panty-knotting. Why people get so incensed over the actions of complete strangers that have no effect on them whatsoever is completely beyond me. If you don’t agree with the strike, then, hey, here's an idea: DON'T STRIKE. But don’t you dare tell me “women are already equal” and there’s nothing worth fighting for.<br />
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“I believe in the fire of love and the sweat of truth.” Assata Shakur<br />
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The end.<br />
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PS Sorry I didn't source this for you like I usually do. Click <a href="http://lmgtfy.com/?iie=1&q=gender+pay+gap" target="_blank">here</a> for assistance ;)<br />
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Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-69504458712108471072017-01-27T07:00:00.000-08:002017-01-27T20:07:42.151-08:00The ImplorablesFriends! How've you been?! Time flies when you're living in a real life reenactment of some bizarre dystopian novel!<br />
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I've missed you, but not enough to brave the soul-suck that is Facebook. I've really been enjoying not losing my damn mind in all my newfound free time, though honestly, this past week, reality has been damn near impossible to ignore. Sigh.<br />
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We went to Cancun in December. It was pretty. All-inclusive resorts aren't usually my jam, but I realized, when a generous benefactor is footing the bill, they are, in fact, a sublime way to vacation. I even read two whole books DURING THE DAY, if you can believe it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have Elf, will travel.<br />
Chuck Ferry the Masculine Feminist.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Blue Hawaiian goes great with my white guilt.<br />
In all seriousness though. Read this book. It'll blow your hair back.</td></tr>
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Jack was sick two days before we left - they thought he had appendicitis and ran a gamut of tests in the ER until 2am. Luckily he recovered in time for the trip, and enjoyed himself immensely. He drank more [virgin] "pina chihuahuas" every day than I did. Sadly, right before we entered the airport on the way home, he threw up e'erywhere. Then a few more times on the plane on the way home. By the way, did you know that United Airlines' policy is that you cannot throw away barf bags on the plane? Instead, you have to <i>keep them at your seat for the duration of the flight</i>? True story. Good times. Good times.<br />
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We got back to San Diego just before midnight on December 23rd to find that our dogs had chewed through the bottom portion of lights on our Christmas tree.<br />
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The big dog had scratched a hole in her ear and was bleeding. The little dog had peed on the carpet, and had deposited several little hershey's kisses of shit about the house. Big dog, not to be outdone, trampled through the dollops of doodoo and smeared them around the house. Mind you, they saved up a week of shenanigans for us, because the dog sitter had texted a photo of two non-bloodied, non-shit-stained pups to me several hours earlier. I cleaned up the mess only to realize that it was still spreading. I then realized that little Nacho's furry butt was basically a shit-sponge with which she was applying an artistic faux-finish to my floors. Charming.<br />
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So I brought her upstairs, thrust her into DM's arms while I undressed and turned on the shower, and then got into the shower with her to give her a butt-bath. We both started laughing maniacally at the image: jet-lagged, exhausted, showering, with a dog, using my fingers to comb clumps of wet poop from her natty butt fur... Having come into contact with every possible bodily fluid - not my own - in the last twelve hours. Does that ever happen to you? Where you make eye contact with your significant other in the middle of some outrageous circumstance, and become instantly, helplessly, hysterical with laughter? "For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and even when you have rivulets of shit-water running down your body, mingling with the blood, sweat, vomit, urine, and tears." But now that I think about it, it's times like these that true love really shines through.<br />
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Christmas was great though. Except the part where Jack started crying when he got a shiny new iPad because now he has so many iPads he doesn't know what to do. #whitepeopleproblems #ihavefailed<br />
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We spent New Years Eve with two other family friends and the kids had a great time. I'd purchased hats and crowns and horns - the last of which I <i>immediately </i>regretted - as did our host, who had just put her baby to bed. Whoops. Rookie manuever. Also, I'd gotten these popper things from Target? I vaguely remember having them when we were younger and thinking they were great fun. I had to show ID to buy them, which I thought was weird, but the Target checker waved it off and chalked it up to the great pussification of America. I didn't even give it a second thought. So, at midnight, or rather, 9pm Pacific Time, we gave the kids the poppers. I then provided a quick demonstration, tugging at the ends of the popper, which exploded and shot a <i>freaking corkscrew </i>at Colby's head. Turns out that instead of festive things like treats and confetti, the poppers were filled with things like scissors, handcuffs, and metal corkscrews. W.T.F. If there's a more fitting end to 2016, I can't think of it.<br />
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Now it's 2017. I wake up daily with a sense of dread and disbelief. It's kind of like when someone dies, and you keep forgetting, and then it hits you like a sledgehammer every time you remember again. This happened to me when I was in DC last week. I kept seeing this official inaugural schwag featuring DJT as the actual, real-life, no-this-is-not-a-sick-joke, President, and it literally took my breath away.<br />
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Let me tell you what gets me through the day though. This: These women and men and children, uniting, together, to stand up for what's right. And I got to be a part of it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That guy on the bottom right is wondering what he got himself into ;) </td></tr>
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Some people say they don't "get it," and/or "women already have rights," and/or "other countries have it way worse" so what are we even protesting? Okay, first of all, just because other women in other countries have fewer rights and shittier lives than we do doesn't mean we should just throw our hands in the air and say "oh well" when our own rights are being threatened. In fact, horror stories coming out of Syria and Sudan and Afghanistan should make our mission at home all the more urgent. These places are cautionary tales of what can happen when human rights are subverted to an authoritarian will. Also, if I ever heard any of the above arguments from an actual woman suffering in one of these terrible places, I might stop to think, but because it is invariably tossed out by suburban white women, I am less than persuaded. The fact of the matter is, even America can be a scary, dangerous place for anyone who is not white. And/or straight. And/or male. Better than Darfur? Certainly. But c'mon, is that really the bar we're setting for ourselves?<br />
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Second of all, if you are okay with the fact that you, as a woman, make 75 cents on the dollar to white males (63% if you're a Black woman, 54% if you're Latina); if it doesn't bother you that women still do the vast majority of household and child-rearing labor, even when they work as much or more than their male partners; if you're okay with the fact that the United States is the only industrialized nation in the world without a mandatory paid family leave program; if you're fine with knowing that women of color are victims of domestic violence at much higher rates than their white counterparts, and face often insurmountable barriers in seeking redress or assistance; if it's cool with you that old white men who've never had a period, been pregnant, had a miscarriage, or had a baby are legislating <i>our</i> rights to <i>our </i>bodies; if it doesn't bother you that our LGBTQ, Black, and Brown sisters and brothers <i>literally do not feel safe walking down the street</i>, and are victims of hate, violence, and discrimination at alarming rates compared to the rest of the population; if you aren't concerned that our president is taking discriminatory action against minorities, not to mention an entire religion that makes up nearly a quarter of the earth's population, actions that are <i><a href="https://www.democracynow.org/2017/1/27/headlines/trump_orders_dhs_to_publish_weekly_list_of_crimes_by_undocumented_people" target="_blank">literally out of the Nazi playbook</a></i>; if it doesn't bother you that immigrants, who make up over 10% of Americans and 25% of Californians, are facing threats to their homes, their rights, their families, and their lives, well,... hmmm. How do I say this politely? You're, uh... let's see... kind of an a-hole? Either that or you're completely and utterly oblivious, willfully or otherwise. But hey, that's your prerogative! Murrica! That brings me to my second point though: If you don't agree with the march, DON'T GO! That's the beauty of this great country! But guess what, freedom of speech and freedom of assembly are two of the actual pillars of American democracy so, with all due respect, back the eff off.<br />
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Finally: Privilege is when you think something is not a problem just because it is not a problem for you personally. Check it.<br />
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Anyway, that's a really long way of saying that the Women's March on Washington was one of the most meaningful, incredible, cup-runneth-over days of my life. And in addition to a million nasty women and bad hombre's taking to the streets for their sistren, I saw a little girl take her first steps in the halls of the Supreme Court, I got within drooling distance of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights; I teared up reading the Gettysburg Address, and I saw a young, adorable mixed-race couple get engaged at the Lincoln Memorial. All in all, this trip made me want to wave a flag and yell 'Murrica from the rooftops! There's hope for us yet :)<br />
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By the way, I thought I'd still blog despite committing social media harikari by getting off Facebook, but clearly I haven't. Nor do I intend to in the future. DJT has utterly annihilated my will to <strike>live</strike> blog, or really, do anything other than try to avoid the internet, hug my babies with fanatic fervor, and sit rocking in my bathtub with my paws wrapped around glass of bourbon until I eventually realize that the water's grown cold so I get out and repeat the process in bed. I guess, more accurately, the horror of a Trump presidency has galvanized me in the vein of "deeds not words." As Gloria Steinem said at the march, "Sometimes we have to put our bodies where our beliefs are. Sometimes, pressing 'send' is not enough." Nothing has brought this realization home like the first seven days in this reign of terror. I'll check back in periodically, but if you need me, I'm still on the Twitter, garnering an average of one like a week, and more importantly, in real life, making calls, knocking on doors, and walking in the streets. Hope to see you there!<br />
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<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-85138834082151548122016-12-09T07:00:00.000-08:002016-12-09T14:18:01.529-08:00It's Not Me, It's YouFriends. Just a little heads up. Facebook and I are taking a break, indefinitely. Because I get about 97% of my blog traffic from Facebook, this is akin to social media suicide. But I have determined that, in the interest of preserving a tenuous hold on my mental health, my efforts, passions, and anxieties can be channeled in more productive ways. I may still blog, periodically. I mean, we all know I love to hear/read myself talk/write. Though to be honest, while the words are still swirling like tiny tornadoes in my head, I've lost the will to put it down.<br />
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It's been a month since the election and I'm still in mourning. I actually feel like I am forced to relive the horror every time I read about Trump's latest, inexplicable, mind-boggling, terrifying cabinet pick. I am not allowed to begin to heal, because the wound is reopened every single day. I can honestly say I have never felt like this before. I think I'm still partly in denial. It feels like I'm in some awful alternate reality, a parody, a perversion, of what America is supposed to be. And then I remember <i>this is actually happening</i> and that realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Every time.<br />
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I understand some (many?) have tired of my incessant shouty caps complaints as of late. People say things like "Quit your white liberal whining," "Get over it," "It's not that bad," etc. But in my mind, if you are not consumed with a near-constant feeling of dread and despair, then you are not paying attention. This is not a drill, people. This is the real deal.<br />
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While I initially found solace in the pantsuit pity-party of like-minded individuals on Facebook, I've been recently repelled by the particular brand of vapid toxicity found there. From the hateful, fact-resistant sewage spewed on one-side, to the (justified) hostility of marginalized communities, to the fragile, defensive, self-congratulatory, and yes, whiney white liberals - it literally makes my eyes twitch and my skin crawl. I feel like my soul is slowly seeping out through my fingertips, and I can't take it anymore.<br />
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Please do not take this to mean that I am going to check out and go bury my head in the sunny, San Diego sand. I'm just tired of <i>talking</i> about it. Yes, discourse has it's place in social change, but that alone is not enough. I've worked with a lot of non-profits over the years, and I would always get so frustrated because there was so much touchy-feelyness. We had to have meetings and meetings and more meetings and talk about our feelings and our dreams for the future and yet the agenda every week was the same because we were so busy talking about what we would do in a perfect world, we didn't have time to get shit done in the real world, in all its completely jacked-up glory. I am ready to DO.<br />
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I encourage you to DO, too. As I wrote a week or two ago, my day to day life will probably not be terribly impacted by Trump and his band of terrible misfits. I'm white. I live in California. I won't need an abortion. I won't be deported. I won't be wrongfully targeted, accused, jailed, or shot by the police. Nobody is going to question my right to be in this country. To be married. To use which bathroom makes me feel safe and comfortable. Nobody is going to threaten my children, tell them to go back to Mexico, Africa, or I-Ran (because, as previously noted, though they are half Persian, they look like So-Cal surfer kids through and through). I don't know if they'll be gay or straight, but hopefully by the time that comes up, this nightmare will be behind us. My husband and I are lawyers. We're marketable and employable. We own our home and so won't fall prey to the next mortgage crisis that will most certainly occur if Trump and his swamp rat cronies repeal Dodd Frank and embolden Wall Street. We're not 1%-ers, but we're at the top of the <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1740-9713.2014.00726.x/pdf" target="_blank">champagne glass</a>, so to speak.<br />
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I know a lot of you are in the same demographic space. And it's easy to feel fatigued and overwhelmed, to want to just gather your family close, and curl up into your turtle shell, and wait it out. And I get that. I totally do. As Mother Theresa said, if you want world peace, go home and hug your family. Charity starts at home, and all that. And loving families that look out for one-another are certainly an imperative piece of the puzzle for a well-functioning society. But I'm here to tell you that that is simply not enough. Think about it. To draw on an analogy used to explain Black Lives Matter, if your neighbor's house was burning, would you just stand there and shrug and say, "At least it's not my house?"<br />
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Because, you guys, <i>our neighbors' homes are <b>burning</b>. </i>In America, a cop can shoot a black man in the back while he is running away, or face-down on the ground, or standing with his hands in the air, and not be convicted of murder. The KKK and other white supremacy groups are openly cheering President-elect Donald Trump and each terrifying cabinet appointment he makes. Black people, brown people, Muslims, Jews, gay, lesbian and transgender Americans are being threatened and assaulted in record numbers. Hate crimes have spiked across the country, particularly at our nation's schools. This is not normal. This is not okay. And sticking our fingers in our ears, squeezing our eyes tight, and singing LALALALA isn't going to make it go away.<br />
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Just because I'm not worried about my son getting shot in the back, or my home being foreclosed on, or someone attacking me because my version of "love" doesn't comport with their limited understanding, doesn't mean I can just say, "Eh, not my problem." That's not how a democratic society is supposed to work. Or rather, when that is our approach to "democracy," Donald Trump happens.<br />
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On a related and perhaps overly bossy and meddling tangent: I have been involved in multiple conversations recently with friends and acquaintances whom I have always thought of as conscious, thoughtful, forward-thinking people. And then they say things like, "Yeah I'll explain _________ [black history/LGBTQ issues/women's rights/civil rights] to my kids when they're old enough to understand." Um, they're old enough to understand right now. I'm not saying you need to sit your four-year-old down and have her watch Twelve Years a Slave or anything, but you are handicapping your children, not to mention perpetuating your white privilege, by keeping them in the dark about issues that one quarter of our society has to face literally from the moment of their birth. Not only are you handicapping your children's ability to be fully functioning members of society, you are handicapping our <i>society,</i> and it's ability to change and heal and grow. Also, if they don't know/examine/question these concepts until they're ten or fifteen or whatever age you deem "old enough to understand," they're automatically going to come at it as a foreign concept, just because they've been shielded from it for so long.<br />
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I can tell you from experience, you (and they) are a lot better off telling them now. The conversation will go something like this: Kid: "Uncle T is a boy, and he loves boys?" Adult: "Yep." Kid: "Cool. Can I have a popsicle?" Or, Adult: "Did you know that fifty years ago, it was illegal in many states for black people and white people to marry each other?" Kid: "So Auntie B and Uncle E wouldn't have been allowed to get married?" Adult: "Nope." Kid: "That's awful." Adult: "Yep." Kid: "Wanna play catch?" Even if you're uncomfortable with the way certain people live their lives, you can teach your children that, in America, adults can choose to live their lives as they please, and so long as they aren't hurting anyone else, it's none of our gosh darn business. Even if your religion dictates a certain position - can't you just say "We believe X, they believe Y, but guess what, we're not God, and we'll leave God's business and judgments to the him (or her)." For example, I despise cigarettes. I think they are filthy nasty death sticks and it is beyond my comprehension why so many people still smoke. My kids know I feel this way. They also know their uncle smokes cigarettes. When they ask about the contradiction, I tell them he's an adult and he's entitled to make decisions about his own life whether or not I agree with them, and I love and support him anyway. I normally try not to "should" on people a la my BFF Claire. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Food for thought, maybe?<br />
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Anyway, I'll catch you guys on the flip side, wherever and whenever that may be. Feel free to subscribe to the blog or check back in periodically. You know where to find me!<br />
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In the meantime, be kind to each other. Listen before you speak. Educate yourselves. Think critically. Keep informed. Stay outraged. Show up. BE the change.<br />
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(Did you guys ever sign your yearbooks with "Peace in the Middle East?" No? Yeah. Me neither. ;) But I'd settle for "Peace in America," for now. Baby steps.)<br />
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Side note, I've been thinking/talking a lot lately about white privilege, and engaging with non-white people on the subject. If you think "white privilege" doesn't exist, I invite you to consider the Black Santa outrage and get back to me. I've definitely been knocked down a few notches by black and brown women and men, which in turn forces introspection and examination of my privilege vis-a-vis my role in the fight for racial equality. <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/07/the-great-white-butt-hurt_9.html" target="_blank">The Great White Butt Hurt</a> is alive and well, and we - white people - are the ones who need to find the cure. It's an uncomfortable and necessary and (I assume) never-ending evolution. Join me?<br />
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Suggested Reading:<br />
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<a href="http://www.hrc.org/blog/the-talk-engaging-in-difficult-conversations-on-sexuality-and-race" target="_blank">Engaging Children in Difficult Conversations about Gender Identity, Race, and Justice</a> - Human Rights Campaign<br />
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<a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/culturally-speaking/201112/colorblind-ideology-is-form-racism" target="_blank">Colorblind Ideology is a Form of Racism</a> - Psychology Today (Aka - When you say you "don't see color," you sound like an asshole.)<br />
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<a href="http://everydayfeminism.com/2014/09/white-privilege-explained/" target="_blank">White Privilege, Explained in One Simple Comic</a> - Everyday Feminism<br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/gina-crosleycorcoran/explaining-white-privilege-to-a-broke-white-person_b_5269255.html" target="_blank">Explaining White Privilege to a Broke White Person</a> - Huffington Post<br />
<a href="http://code.ucsd.edu/pcosman/Backpack.pdf" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="http://code.ucsd.edu/pcosman/Backpack.pdf" target="_blank">White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack</a> - Peggy McIntosh<br />
<a href="https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/white-fragility-why-its-so-hard-to-talk-to-white-people-about-racism-twlm/" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/white-fragility-why-its-so-hard-to-talk-to-white-people-about-racism-twlm/" target="_blank">White Fragility: Why It's So Hard to Talk to White People About Racism </a>- Dr. Robin DiAngelo, Good Men Project<br />
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<a href="http://www.culturalbridgestojustice.org/working-assumptions/" target="_blank">Working Assumptions</a> - Cultural Bridges to Justice<br />
<a href="https://www.policefoundation.org/projects/community-policing/" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="https://www.policefoundation.org/projects/community-policing/" target="_blank">Community Policing</a> - The Police Foundation<br />
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<a href="http://www.toolboxfored.org/instead-of-calling-the-police/" target="_blank">Toolbox for Education and Social Action: "What To Do Instead of Calling the Police" is a Must Read</a><br />
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Hey does anyone want to start a virtual book club?? These are on my list to read/re-read. Normally I am a novel girl all the way, but in the name of enlightenment, I'm changing tacks for a bit:<br />
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<a href="http://remezcla.com/lists/culture/stop-trump-reading-list/" target="_blank">The Stop Trump Reading List</a>: ReMezcla<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Race-Class-Gender-United-States/dp/1464178666/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1481320799&sr=8-1&keywords=race+class+and+gender+in+the+united+states" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Race, Class and Gender in the United States </a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/2h77YHX" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="http://amzn.to/2h77YHX" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Between the World and Me</a> - Ta-Nehisi Coates<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2gm17ev" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness</a> - Michelle Alexander<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2hfUK9U" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Ghettoside</a>: A True Story of Murder in America - Jill Leovy<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2hfUJCz" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Hillbilly Elegy</a>: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis - J. D. Vance<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2gm4su5" target="_blank">White Trash</a>: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in America - Nancy Isenberg<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2hfYSqc" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right</a> - Arlie Russel Rothschild<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2hg1mVI" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">We Should All be Feminists </a>- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2gm8brD" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">A Theory of Justice</a>: John Rawls<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2hfWAHv" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">1984</a>: George Orwell<br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/2gmbRtd" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="http://amzn.to/2gmbRtd" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Listen, Liberal: Or, What Ever Happened to the Party of the People? </a>- Thomas Frank<br />
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(I know this list is underrepresenting LGBTQ, Latinx and Native American authors/issues, among others. Please do recommend any additions!)Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-70106798351212879192016-11-18T07:00:00.000-08:002016-11-18T16:54:28.747-08:00That Day My Four Year Old Became a Trump SupporterColby: "Who do you want to win the election, Mama?"<br />
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Me: Hillary Clinton. <br />
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Colby: Why do you want her to win? She's a liar and a bad pewson. <br />
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Me: I'm sorry, what was that babe? I think I misheard you. <br />
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Colby: My teacher told me Hillary Clinton's a liar and a bad pewson. <br />
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Me: Well, some people think that, but I don't agree. I think Hillary Clinton will make a great president. <br />
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Colby: My teacher said Donald <i>Twump</i> will be the BEST Pwesident. <br />
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Me: Well honey, I disagree. Donald Trump says hurtful and disrespectful things about all sorts of different kinds of people. [Not to mention he lacks the knowledge, experience and temperament to be the leader of the free world.] I don't think he would be a good President at all. <br />
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Colby: My teacher says <i>Hillary Clinton</i> is the one who says diswespectful things. She told me anyone who says Donald Twump says mean things is just making it up.<br />
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Me: Hmmm... okayyyy... welll.... uh, everyone is entitled to their opinion, sugar pie. I'll just have to agree to disagree with her on that. [And/or provide video evidence.]<br />
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Colby: Mama, I know you won't be too happy, but half of me wants Donald Twump to win.<br />
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Sweet Jesus. I tried to think about how someone would feel if the situation were reversed - If the child of a Trump supporter came home from school spouting insults about Donald Trump. But then I thought, what could you possibly say about Donald Trump that is worse than the truth? And even if there was something, empirical evidence (and his own hubris) indicates that his supporters couldn't care less. (E.g., "I could shoot somebody and not lose voters.")<br />
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This exchange happened on election night. I had left a little early and was feeling nervous but giddy. I was anxious that the election would be a nail-biter, but felt fairly confident it would end in celebration of the first female president of the United States. NPR was on the radio, turned down low, talking about early returns from the east coast. When Colby spoke up, I honestly thought I had misheard. By the time the conversation was over, I was so mad I could barely see straight. <br />
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Later, when the kids were in bed, and I had come out of hiding from my hour-long bubble-bath to face the dystopian reality of a Donald Trump presidency, I rehashed the conversation with DM, the rage-heat rising, fire in my heart. I was out for blood. This was so wrong! Heads were gonna roll! (And by "heads were gonna roll," I mean, "At least one or two people will be receiving a strongly-worded letter!")<br />
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The next morning at breakfast, Colby asked, "Who won the Pwesident contest?" <br />
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Me: Donald Trump.<br />
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Colby: Yay! That makes me happy because it will make my teacher so happy!<br />
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[Me, smoothing my loving mom face over my apoplectic fury.]<br />
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DM pleaded with me not to say anything, and I didn't. But later that night we were out with friends and someone said, "I just cannot believe Hillary lost." I replied, "I know. I am devastated." Colby looked stricken. She went over to DM and whispered in his ear, "Why did they want Hillary Clinton to win? She is a liar." Later, Colby told us that Donald Trump was going to build a wall to "protect us" from "bad people" because that is what Pwesidents are supposed to do. DM looked at me and said, "You know how I told you not to write that letter? I changed my mind."<br />
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Dear Teacher –<br />
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I’m sad to have to write this after having such a pleasant visit with the class on Friday. You seem like a nice person and Colby obviously loves you a lot, but I don’t think this is something that should be swept under the rug. This is about the content, tenor, and very fact of your apparently in-depth conversation with my four year old daughter about Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. <br />
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On election night, Colby shared some of your comments regarding the presidential candidates - that Hillary Clinton is a “liar” and a “bad person,” and that anyone who says bad things about Donald Trump is making it up. She also said something about Donald Trump’s “Wall” and how it would “help people,” but I’m hoping something was lost in translation there.<br />
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I have tried, and failed, to understand what would lead you, her preschool teacher, to believe it was appropriate to say these things to my four-year-old child. It is completely unprofessional and totally out of line. <br />
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I understand and support the discussion of elections in general terms, even in preschool. It’s an important aspect of American citizenship and I don’t think you’re ever too young to learn what it means to be a productive member of society. As a rule, I try to be honest and straightforward with my children about the goings-on in the world. But while I don’t want them to live under a rock, I don’t think they’re old enough to comprehend an unfiltered account of American politics, particularly the toxic brand exhibited in the 2016 presidential campaign. <br />
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I have tried very hard to shield both of my children from the ugliness of this election season. Granted they pick it up outside the home, from friends, relatives, or at school (though I always assumed that would be from their peers, not their teachers!) We don’t watch the news with them, we didn’t let them see the debates, I even switched off NPR in the car whenever a story about the latest election “scandal” came on. They are clearly aware that I prefer Hillary Clinton to Donald Trump, and of course they ask why, but in the spirit of not saddling my small children with my own political baggage, the farthest I have gone is to say I prefer Clinton because Trump has said hurtful and disrespectful things about many different groups of people (though, to be honest, my true feelings are much more… colorful). I don’t think reasonable minds can disagree that Donald Trump has said some pretty awful things about many groups of people, including women, gays and lesbians, Muslims, immigrants, and Mexicans, to name a few. So, to hear my daughter say her beloved teacher told her that anyone who says Donald Trump is mean/hurtful/disrespectful is “making it up” really stopped me in my tracks. Essentially, you told my daughter I am a liar. <br />
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The poor girl was in tears last night. She is basically having a crisis of conscience because she doesn't understand how two very important people in her life could be telling her opposite things. It has really shaken her. She is too young to learn that adults have just as many flaws and foibles as kids do (a lot more, probably!) If it was just “I choose Trump, you choose Clinton,” that would be one thing. But you have told her that her mother’s candidate of choice is a liar and a bad person, thus calling into question my integrity and judgment.<br />
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I understand teachers are people too, with their own values and beliefs. I understand this is a thorny issue, balancing the rights of free speech with the rights of parents to raise their children in the manner they see fit. I understand this is a private preschool, and that the YMCA itself was founded on conservative Christian beliefs. I also understand that, eventually, my children are going to face a full frontal assault from the “real world” and they will have to sift the information they gather there and make their own, informed decisions. What I do not understand is why you, a teacher, and a mother, thought it was okay to put all of that on my daughter’s plate in preschool. How would you feel if the situation were reversed? I can't imagine telling someone else's child that his or her parents' pick for presidential candidate is a terrible person, even if I believed in my heart of hearts it was true. I mean, why don't you just tell her there's no Santa Claus, while you're at it?!<br />
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But, since you seem to want to defend Donald Trump to my four year old, maybe you could also explain to her why Donald Trump wants to ban Muslims from entering the United States, impose an ideological screening test for immigration, why he claims Islam is synonymous with terrorism, why he plans to make American Muslims “register” in a database, and why <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/18/us/politics/japanese-internment-muslim-registry.html?_r=0" target="_blank">his camp is citing Japanese internment</a> as <a href="http://time.com/4140050/donald-trump-muslims-japanese-internment/" target="_blank">precedent</a>. Keeping in mind Colby’s grandparents are Muslim immigrants from Iran. Not to mention Colby's other favorite, your co-teacher, a Pakistani immigrant.<br />
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Maybe you could explain to her why Donald Trump's <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/michelangelo-signorile/donald-trumps-promise-anti-lgbt-supreme-court_b_12551640.html" target="_blank">top Supreme Court picks are openly hostile to the LGBT community</a>, why he has promised to <a href="http://www.npr.org/2016/11/10/501610933/lgbt-rights-activists-fear-trump-will-undo-protections-created-under-obama" target="_blank">revoke executive orders that protect LGBT employees from workplace discrimination</a>, and why his <a href="http://time.com/4406337/mike-pence-gay-rights-lgbt-religious-freedom/" target="_blank">vice president Mike Pence believes</a> that homosexuality is a choice and a sin, believes in “conversion therapy,” and passed a law based on a convoluted understanding of “religious liberty” allowing businesses to discriminate against gays and lesbians. Keeping in mind Colby’s uncle (my little brother) is gay, as well as countless other family members, co-workers, and friends. <br />
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You could also explain to her why Donald Trump wants to build that border wall. I guess it's because he wants to "protect us" from all those <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/fact-checker/wp/2015/07/08/donald-trumps-false-comments-connecting-mexican-immigrants-and-crime/" target="_blank">Mexicans rapists, drug dealers, and criminals</a>. And why he wants to create a “<a href="https://thinkprogress.org/trump-deportation-force-b81539c0cd10#.8rxrj3q0d" target="_blank">deportation force</a>” to <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/15/us/politics/donald-trump-deport-immigrants.html" target="_blank">deport millions of immigrants </a>and tear millions of families apart. Keeping in mind that nearly forty percent of California’s population are Latino, native and immigrant alike, including our friends, family, co-workers, and your very own students.<br />
<br />
Perhaps most importantly, you could explain to my four-year-old daughter why the President-Elect of the United States thinks it’s acceptable to just “grab a woman by the p*ssy,” because when you’re rich and famous, “you can do anything.” Keeping in mind she is a little girl who will one day be a woman. A woman who will, in all likelihood, be treated this way by a man some day, and who will NOT, so help me God, let it slide, nor minimize, legitimize or trivialize it with platitudes like “locker room talk” or “boys will be boys.” I plan to teach my son the same. <br />
<br />
I am sure you have your reasons for casting your vote for Donald Trump, and while I vehemently disagree, to paraphrase Voltaire, I will defend to the death your right to cast it. (Okay, that’s a little bit much. Maybe not to the <i>death</i>, but, let's say to my "extreme moral discomfort.") That is democracy, for better or for worse. <br />
<br />
However, in the future, if you wish to question my personal political choices, or debate the virtues (or lack thereof) between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, please do so directly, and not by using my four year old as your go-between.<br />
<br />
The End.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhootrkOrtf4XBCoFLnzjw__DlUrUuDfgcCr4sM_dwPEEXGNj23eKPNw6RzyaOk49oLX4Yy0DM_cW9PJvfYCodSE2cdVPWn24bYNAlNOc1UvVFCk2wmlYi1VrnHLI2K_eXsBVGnFwlDKAp/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhootrkOrtf4XBCoFLnzjw__DlUrUuDfgcCr4sM_dwPEEXGNj23eKPNw6RzyaOk49oLX4Yy0DM_cW9PJvfYCodSE2cdVPWn24bYNAlNOc1UvVFCk2wmlYi1VrnHLI2K_eXsBVGnFwlDKAp/s320/download.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Just kidding. This reminds me - recently a cousin of mine who lives in a red part of (what used to be, sob) a blue state, posed the quandary of what to do if the only qualified and affordable child care you can afford happens to be a proud, card-carrying Deplorable. That's a tough question. I mean, we've had really republican, really religious nannies and babysitters before. And then there's the whole "<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/01/jesus-is-not-my-homeboy.html" target="_blank">secular prayer</a>" BS at Jack's school last year. I figure a little religion can't hurt. I actually remember my babysitter as a kid once told me, when <i>I</i> was four, that "Jewish people don't exist." I replied, "Yes they do, because I'm Jewish." I'm not, but, eff that. (I guess there's a certain poetic circle of life vibe to this story after all ;)) Anyway, I guess for me, the rubber hits the road when the person starts negatively shaping my tiny human's little brain. And yes, since I made said tiny humans, I get to subjectively define "negative" in this case. I would say that advocating for a "border wall" to "protect us" from Mexican "rapists and drug dealers," believing a Nazi database for Muslim Americans is warranted, and arguing that gays, lesbians <i>or any other humans</i> are not entitled to equal protection under the laws is where I draw the line in the sand.<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm REALLY bad about promises like this but I do think this is my last political post. Probably. Maybe. At least until January 20th. I think :)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMznIBfJ2FeOfsPs7NUnWqY1bXhRb20tY-bR9V0ySVGR-DgBE2-_PIZlT799knes02YsobxtNWzQwZzERfJxcwva5Oj4rX_zF_uZ9UBpzxMv1cPpaGHBhCN_rcGO0pAIyDGeT1-_N6TtQP/s1600/3919F9E100000578-3822360-image-a-6_1475621193681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMznIBfJ2FeOfsPs7NUnWqY1bXhRb20tY-bR9V0ySVGR-DgBE2-_PIZlT799knes02YsobxtNWzQwZzERfJxcwva5Oj4rX_zF_uZ9UBpzxMv1cPpaGHBhCN_rcGO0pAIyDGeT1-_N6TtQP/s640/3919F9E100000578-3822360-image-a-6_1475621193681.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3822360/Halloween-display-West-Hartford-Connecticut-election-themed-Donald-Trump-Hillary-Clinton-Mexico-wall.html" target="_blank">Okay this is kind of hilarious</a>. C: Reuters/Dialy Mail. </td></tr>
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<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-46596097914799239282016-11-17T07:00:00.000-08:002016-11-17T16:51:16.271-08:00Keep Calm and ... Eff ThatIf one more person tells me to Calm Down about the election, so help me God, I am going to aggressively visualize myself punching them in their bark box. My favorites are the ones who call me and my fellow pissed-off womenfolk "hysterical." Ah. I see. Accusing women who are voicing legitimate concerns about a President-Elect who has vowed to curtail our rights as suffering from "hysterics." How original. I keep seeing posts along the lines of, "Quit your whining and get over it already, you live in California, you'll be fine." I'm calling bullshit. Beware, I'm about to bust out numerical headings.<br />
<br />
1) Trump supporters vowed to revolt with WITH ARMED MILITIAS if Hillary won, so you'll excuse me if I'm sorry-not-sorry about my peaceful protest.<br />
<br />
2) You don't get to tell me or anyone else whether or not my shock/grief/horror about Donald Trump-as-President is legitimate. Pain and sadness are funny things. Personal, and subjective. Speaking from experience, as a mother whose children occasionally scream like they're being attacked by a chainsaw when I tell them they can't have lollipops, trivializing someone's pain does not make them "get over it" any faster. Just the opposite, in fact, because you're only adding insult to injury. <br />
<br />
3) Saying "you're straight/white/upper-middle-class/and live in California, don't worry about it" is a textbook example of privilege-in-action. Or rather, privilege <em>inaction</em>. And just because we have the advantage of living in California, where only 33% instead of 50% (or more) of the electorate support a bigoted president, doesn't mean we should just throw our hands up and say, "Oh well, not my problem." That kind of attitude is how we got here in the first place, because the affluent educated white folk are so isolated from the people who are actually suffering, they are able to ignore the problem or forget it even exists. <br />
<br />
4) It is further indicative of your privileged position when you call outrage at a President-elect who has vowed to violate the civil rights of several vulnerable classes of citizens, "whining."<br />
<br />
But hey, maybe you're right. Maybe it won't personally affect me. After all, my ovaries are like two shriveled little California raisins someone left between the couch cushions circa 2012, so overturning Roe v. Wade won't affect me. Why should I worry about more unwanted children and <a href="https://www.guttmacher.org/about/gpr/2009/11/facts-and-consequences-legality-incidence-and-safety-abortion-worldwide" target="_blank">back-alley coat hanger abortions</a>? Out of sight, out of mind, right?<br />
<br />
If they make my Iranian immigrant mother- and father-in law, who have lived in the United States almost 50 years, register in their <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/politics/first-draft/2015/11/20/donald-trump-says-hed-absolutely-require-muslims-to-register/" target="_blank">Muslim database</a>, I guess that's not actually <em>my</em> life. Nothin' to get my panties rumpled over there!<br />
<br />
If they tell my brother he's not allowed to marry the man he loves: "Haha, just kidding! We're doing take-backsies on marriage equality!" that's not, technically, my problem, right? I mean, his last boyfriend was a total douche so maybe it's a good thing. So what if Trump's top domestic policy advisor believes gay sex is a transgression against God and <a href="https://thinkprogress.org/trumps-top-domestic-policy-adviser-being-gay-is-a-lifestyle-that-can-be-changed-b4d876e0ce31" target="_blank">homosexuality is a "choice"</a> that can be changed! And, if Trump nominates some ass-backwards, vehemently anti-LGBT Supreme Court Justice (or two) (e.g. <a href="http://www.rawstory.com/2016/05/trump-scotus-pick-william-pryor-would-have-let-states-jail-lgbt-people-for-having-sex-in-their-homes/" target="_blank">William Pryor</a>, who was on the wrong side of the landmark gay rights case Lawrence v. Texas, in which he argued homosexuality was on a level with pedophilia and incest, and believed gay sex should be illegal), well, look at the bright side - it'll probably only take, oh, I dunno, thirty, forty years to gain back all the ground the LGBT community fought so hard to win, and lost under the Trump presidency. I mean, fifty years at the outside. Your gay great-grandchildren will be <em>golden</em>.<br />
<br />
Cutting Medicare will probably affect my dad in his Golden Years, but it's cool, we have an extra bedroom and I'm a super fancy lawyer so I can totally afford a private, round-the-clock nurse and <a href="http://fortune.com/2016/11/09/trump-victory-pharma-stocks/" target="_blank">price-gauged medications</a>, no worries. I got you, Pops!<br />
<br />
I don't think any strange men are gonna be grabbin' my pussy anytime soon (see above re: shriveled ovaries). So I guess I shouldn't stress about the President-Elect of the United States trivializing sexual assault. (Please little baby infant Jesus let someone with a political agenda befitting the 21st century be president before I have to worry about some creeper fondling my daughter's little lady bits and pawning it off as "locker room talk.") <br />
<br />
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In that case, I probably shouldn't stress about deepening racial divides, the increased militarization of the police, racial bias in the classrooms and the school-to-prison pipeline, the disparate impact of our justice system on black and brown boys and men, nor the certainty that these chasms will only widen under Trump, as evidenced by his assemblage of a <a href="https://youtu.be/dbKT22idntg" target="_blank">white-supremacist</a> <a href="https://youtu.be/yve_oz-D5nI" target="_blank">dream-team</a> in his cabinet. I mean, <em>my</em> kids aren't brown so, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ On second thought, they are technically "ethnic" (Muslim Iranian grandparents as noted above), but they look super white so we should be good to go. So, yeah, you're probably right. What is there to whine about? Thanks, man. I feel much better. I think I'm going to drink some wine and watch some trashy television because that seems way more fun than being a vocal ally for my fellow americans that are being persecuted under the apparent authority of the President-Elect of the United States of America. Phew. Let me tell you, that is a load off my shoulders because I am way too freakin' busy to be stressing about the basic liberty and human rights of people who are not me!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqzfqLSPVveW64wbVpWanAIVQxgzGBdTni-17p1LKqC6DJpi7I_ntjIh411wTTeYXxunwc8MvCfLvFzYRVtXIQIH4GjqxDXAFQBbBEXsRCmXKyF2dZAbqkcaTlDZuAabgx8C7oBd65U2f/s1600/privilege.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqzfqLSPVveW64wbVpWanAIVQxgzGBdTni-17p1LKqC6DJpi7I_ntjIh411wTTeYXxunwc8MvCfLvFzYRVtXIQIH4GjqxDXAFQBbBEXsRCmXKyF2dZAbqkcaTlDZuAabgx8C7oBd65U2f/s320/privilege.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Word.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It certainly is nice to live in California though. I can't argue with that. #blessed<br />
<br />
“In California, diversity is strength. Our students come from all kinds of backgrounds, cultures, languages, and religions, and they all come together to learn on their way to success in 21st century careers and college. California already has, and will always maintain, strong legal and state constitutional protections against any and all kinds of discrimination, regardless of a student’s race, ethnicity, faith, sexual orientation, or gender identity.<br />
<br />
“And I want to tell young women and girls that they will always be safe, be respected, and be protected at school. As the proud father of two daughters, I know that girls can achieve anything, succeed at anything they choose, and earn the respect that they deserve every day at school, in the workplace, and in our communities. California moves forward, not back.”<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://www.cde.ca.gov/nr/ne/yr16/yr16rel79.asp">State Schools Chief Tom Torlakson Assures California Public School Students That They are Safe From Discrimination and Bullying</a><br />
<br />
"By a margin in the millions, Californians overwhelmingly rejected politics fueled by resentment, bigotry, and misogyny.<br />
<br />
The largest state of the union and the strongest driver of our nation’s economy has shown it has its surest conscience as well.<br />
<br />
California is – and must always be – a refuge of justice and opportunity for people of all walks, talks, ages and aspirations – regardless of how you look, where you live, what language you speak, or who you love. <br />
<br />
California has long set an example for other states to follow. And California will defend its people and our progress. We are not going to allow one election to reverse generations of progress at the height of our historic diversity, scientific advancement, economic output, and sense of global responsibility."<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://sd24.senate.ca.gov/news/2016-11-09-joint-statement-california-legislative-leaders-result-presidential-election">Joint Statement from California Legislative Leaders on Result of Presidential Election</a><br />
<br />
"Bigotry is bad for business." Or is it? <a href="http://www.politico.com/story/2016/11/democrats-demand-trump-rescind-steve-bannon-231422">Democrats demand that Trump rescind Bannon appointment</a> - Politico<br />
<br />
Sadly, even California is not immune to the particular brand of twat-wafflery fomented by Donald Trump's presidential campaign. Some stellar example of the human race was handing out <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2016/11/10/us/post-election-hate-crimes-and-fears-trnd/">fake deportation letters</a> to Latino students at Shasta High in Redding, California. Harassment based on race and religion in California schools has increased since the election. It's super thoughtful of Trump to tell these a-holes to "Stop it" in his 60 Minutes interview Sunday, but I'm afraid you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube (or the bigots back in the basement) on that one.</div>
Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-43383718750441313082016-11-02T07:00:00.000-07:002016-11-02T11:37:31.673-07:00The Lesser of Four EvilsI had to write the word "explosion" about twenty times for work today, and every single time my fingers inexplicably typed "explos<i>ure</i>" and that's actually a pretty accurate term for what happens in my head when I think about the fact that Donald J. Trump may actually become the President of the United States. <br />
<br />
I understand I'm just preaching to the choir at this point, and that's fine. I just hope I can impress upon the choir that this is not a drill. <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2016/11/01/post-abc-tracking-poll-clinton-falls-behind-trump-in-enthusiasm-but-has-edge-in-early-voting/">The latest Washington Post-ABC poll has Trump at 46%, Clinton at 45%</a>. This causes me physical pain and acute nausea. The KKK, neo-nazis and other <a href="http://www.politico.com/story/2016/11/suppress-black-vote-trump-campaign-230616">white supremacist groups are plotting a show of force</a> at urban polling places on election day in hopes of suppressing black votes. Complacency has no place in the last best shit show of 2016. Get. Out. There. And. Vote. <br />
<br />
I don't know how to "fix" America, but I do know Donald Trump is not the answer. He is the worst thing to happen to this country in a long time. He's a hate-peddling swill-merchant. And the saddest thing is, people are buying what he's selling. <br />
<br />
Here's a little story. I was in San Francisco this weekend and ended up in the middle of a budding bar fight. Well, really it was just an unprovoked attack on some unsuspecting bystander and I decided to play knightress in shining Northface fleece. I was sitting at a table minding my own business, having a cocktail and chatting with my brother and a friend when I couldn't help but notice a drunk blonde leaning over me to yell at the woman behind me. <br />
<br />
Woman 1 (Drunk Blonde): "ARE YOU EVEN AMERICAN?!"<br />
<br />
Woman 2: Yes I am.<br />
<br />
Woman 1: WELL YOU DON'T <i>SOUND</i> AMERICAN!<br />
<br />
Woman 2: I don't know what to tell you. My family has lived in San Francisco for three generations. How long have <i>you</i> lived in San Francisco? [Her ancestors hailed from Japan, I later learned.]<br />
<br />
Woman 1: WELL YOU DON'T <i>LOOK</i> AMERICAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE CONSTITUTION? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY REPRESENTATIVES WE HAVE? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW! SEE?! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW! YOU'RE NOT EVEN AN AMERICAN!<br />
<br />
I stood up at this point because, No, bitch. Nobody invokes the Constitution of the United States to support their harebrained, bigoted blonde ass on my watch.<br />
<br />
Me: Do you know how many representatives we have?<br />
<br />
Woman 1: I asked her!<br />
<br />
Me: I'm asking <i>you</i>. Do you even know? <br />
<br />
[I shit you not, this clown did. not. even. know. I cannot think of a more telling display of self-righteous dys-trumpian ignorance.]<br />
<br />
Woman 1: SHE'S UNAMERICAN!<br />
<br />
Me: 53. 53 representatives. Do you know who our senators are? Do you know your representative? Do you know your state representatives? Do you know when the Constitution was adopted? How many amendments are there? Which ones are in the bill of rights? <br />
<br />
I basically gave this real life troll an American citizenship quiz. And she failed. Bigly. (She was then escorted from the bar by an acquaintance who assured me "She's really pretty nice when she's sober." Riiiight.)<br />
<br />
This reminded me of the <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/dont-be-dick.html">time someone called my little brother a fag in the Castro</a>. Like, bruh, two groups you should probably not insult in San Francisco: The Asians and The Gays. <br />
<br />
My husband thinks things have always been this bad - or worse - and the unholy trifecta of the internet, Donald Trump and the GOP have merely converged to reveal America's vast, flabby underbelly. Personally, I think I preferred when they stayed in their mama's basements. But if we're gonna smoke 'em out and smarten 'em up, there has got to be a better way.<br />
<br />
Listen. If you truly think Donald Trump or Gary Johnson or Jill Stein are, in any universe, on any scale, by any measurement - more prepared, educated, capable, or qualified to serve as Commander in Chief - well then I personally think you need to get your news somewhere other than Facebook. Gary Johnson is dangerously uninformed. Jill Stein is a tin-hat conspiracy theorist who also has no idea what she's talking about - and, ps, <a href="http://www.rawstory.com/2016/10/big-pharma-wall-street-and-big-oil-jill-stein-is-heavily-invested-in-industries-she-rails-against/">has ties to Wall Street, Big Pharma & Big Oil</a> - the same industries she so sanctimoniously decries!!! As I've said before, if you choose one of these yahoos over Hillary Clinton - flawed? yes, uninspired? maybe, a politician? most definitely, but one who's eminently qualified and has served thirty years as a public servant, then I think your "principled stand" against the "Lesser of Two Evils" is a bunch of baloney. But if, after doing your due diligence and educating yourself, that is what you truly and honestly believe, then I am not here to persuade you otherwise. <br />
<br />
Likewise, if you truly and honestly believe that Hillary Clinton is an evil warlord intent on fomenting WWIII for her own personal and political motives, then, you know what? This post is not for you. <br />
<br />
If you're still here - a recap of my feeling on third party candidates in general. I completely understand your beef with the two party system - now more than ever. And most years I would absolutely encourage you to do you. That is your right and your prerogative as an American citizen. But this is not most years! I am legitimately terrified that Johnson/Stein will pull a Ralph Nader and land that Squirrel Nut Zipper in the white house. People keep saying "If not now, when?" My answer to that is, ANY YEAR A BIGOTED, MISOGYNIST, ORANGE DEMAGOGUE ISN'T ONE OF THE TWO MAJOR PARTIES RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT. But hey, I guess it's better to "throw away your vote" than cast your lot with the likes of Donald Trump. At least then you can sleep at night. (Unless the third party votes result in a Trump presidency. Then that nightmare's on you.)<br />
<br />
I have suffered from repeated brain explosures these past days as I read about the latest Hillary Clinton email "drama" that is, from what I can tell, more of a last-ditch political stunt than an actual story, but hey, 'Merrica. Obviously I'm looking at this through my own lens, but, this is how all this crap reads to me: <br />
<br />
Trump says Mexican immigrants are criminals and racists.<br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails. <br />
Trump says John McCain isn't a war hero because he got caught, insults a decorated general, and lest we forget the Khan family. <br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails. <br />
Trump mocks a disabled reporter. <br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails.<br />
Trump says we should bar all Muslim immigrants, subject the Muslims that are here to an "ideological test," and while we're at it, screw those Syrian refugees.<br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails. <br />
Trump threatens to unwind the First Amendment.<br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails.<br />
Trump tried to play judge, jury, and executioner when he said the Central Park Five, who were cleared of any crime by DNA evidence, were "still guilty."<br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails.<br />
Trump vows to single-handedly overturn Roe v. Wade, says women who have abortions should be "punished," (and clearly lacks basic understanding of the workings and responsibilities of the three branches of government).<br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails. <br />
Trump says a federal judge ruled against him because the judge was Mexican. (He was born in Indiana.)<br />
Trump refuses to disavow white supremacists. <br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails.<br />
Trump has said countless terrible things about women, but I think this is everyone's personal favorite: "<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/10/n-to-mother-effing-ope.html">Grab 'em by the pussy</a>. You can do anything." <br />
Clinton used a private server for her emails. <br />
<br />
Of course, I'm hardly unbiased here. And I do understand why people have concerns about her. She's hawkish, she's too cozy with Wall Street, etc. Fine. Again, if you truly and honestly believe that her shortcomings outweigh those of your third party candidate of choice, then great, democracy, yay. But just FYI, the whole "Crooked Hillary/Killary" thing is such a fallacy. <a href="http://www.latimes.com/nation/la-na-pol-clinton-email-legal-analysis-20160705-snap-story.html">Hillary is not a "criminal."</a> If you had gone to law school (ps - I did) you would know that one essential element of a crime is criminal intent. Such intent was deemed lacking in each and every Republican-led <a href="http://www.politico.com/story/2016/05/house-benghazi-committee-lawyer-american-lives-223207"><strike>witch hunt</strike></a> investigation against her. Another "minor" prerequisite to being a criminal is <i>breaking the law</i>. She hasn't done that either. On claims that she (personally?) "sold weapons to Saudi Arabia" or "created ISIS" - News flash - America has been bargaining with bad guys (the lesser of two evils, so to speak), propping up authoritarian regimes, and engaging in shady back-channel arms deals with countries lacking democratic pedigrees since the Cold War, so you're not pinning that shit on my gal Hillz. On the claims of her being a "murderer" - Unless you are ALSO going to call every sitting president, vice president, secretary of state, director of the CIA, and so on and so forth an "evil-murdering-murderer-head" then you do not have a leg to stand on. <br />
<br />
Do I agree with these policies, from my comfortable position as a civilian armchair quarterback? Absolutely not. Do I think this is the way it should be? Hell no. The thing is, I have never been president or secretary of state, so I cannot presume to know what kind of difficult choices they are forced to make on a daily or hourly basis, but I don't think any of these people (save Donald Trump) goes to work every morning deviously rubbing their (tiny) hands together planning how many innocent lives they're going to destroy. These people receive stacks of surely terrifying intelligence data. They make hard decisions. They try to protect our country - its people, and yes, our economic and political interests. This is the real world. It's messy and scary and there are grey areas and terrible things happen and the United States, in building itself up as a global superpower, has made some pretty shitty sacrifices along the way. <br />
<br />
Should we as a country work together to change the United States' role in this global game? Well sure, if everyone really feels so strongly about it, then yes, we certainly should. But you know what is 100% NOT the answer? Handing over the nuclear codes to an insecure, power-hungry little man who can't resist pushing shiny red buttons. <br />
<br />
You know something else we have to do if we really want change? We have to care about this shit more than once every four years, and we have to do something other than bitch about it on the internet. The only thing politicians care about more than money is votes. If we - their constituents - show them that we really and truly care about these issues, all the time, not just as a platform and imaginary agenda. If you really care about things like oil dependence, unnecessary foreign intervention, drone strikes, civilian casualties of war, war period, police brutality, inhumane treatment of immigrants, for-profit prisons, the school-to-prison pipeline, equal pay, public education, to name a few - then we have to get involved, find your local representative (mine's <a href="http://www.salon.com/2016/11/01/meet-the-bernie-loving-marine-who-might-bring-down-gop-firebrand-darrell-issa/">Daryl Issa</a>, so I'm fucked), get organized, get vocal, BE THE CHANGE. This means still caring, still bitching, and most importantly, STILL DOING on November 9th, December 9th, next year, and beyond. <br />
<br />
PS - In case you're wondering, I personally, do not at all feel as though I'm voting for the "lesser of two evils." I think Hillary, though as flawed as anyone who has spent her entire adult life in the public eye would be, has a solid track record as a "<a href="http://www.rollcall.com/news/hawkings/8-years-senate-votes-reveal-clinton">liberal with a centrist tinge</a>." I don't even see it as a choice. It's like asking if I want a vodka-with-flat-tonic, or a glass of drano. <br />
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PPS - Anyone who thinks Bernie Sanders or the like could have stepped in January 20th and immediately sever all foreign ties and turn the United States into a great pacifist nation and change our national anthem to Kumbayah has been smoking too much of Gary Johnson's wacky tabacky. <br />
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PPPS - This is (probably) my last political post for the year, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear. This time next week, I'll write about something much less controversial, like vaginas. Unless Trump wins. Then I'll be writing about my little "vacation" to the insane asylum.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnynYu7X71j30DwVI3wYL31O_99HVkkHiWOutNzZAfhQCpBtdaWLytrg3oSPb0sC4zZtGOSL989kEQM0pfM8l8QK02Fjua2ck6cjYa5Ozs0VQu5f5Dsc7oiYQ8N9sveSfgNuDGkISKr-33/s1600/roach-brooch.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnynYu7X71j30DwVI3wYL31O_99HVkkHiWOutNzZAfhQCpBtdaWLytrg3oSPb0sC4zZtGOSL989kEQM0pfM8l8QK02Fjua2ck6cjYa5Ozs0VQu5f5Dsc7oiYQ8N9sveSfgNuDGkISKr-33/s320/roach-brooch.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;">For some reason this reminds me of Donald Trump. Except without the leash.</span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;"> </span></td></tr>
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Read:<br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/i-didnt-unfriend-you-over-politics_us_580fa553e4b06e45c5c6ff43">I Didn't Unfriend You Over 'Politics'</a> "I am so tired of people feigning shock and outrage over others not wanting to remain friends with those who are directly or indirectly fueling discrimination."<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/09/tracking-the-clinton-controversies-from-whitewater-to-benghazi/396182/">The Atlantic: From Whitewater to Benghazi - A Clinton Scandal Primer</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.newsweek.com/2016/11/11/donald-trump-companies-destroyed-emails-documents-515120.html">Newsweek: Donald Trump's Companies Destroyed Emails in Defiance of Court Orders</a>. <br />
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<a href="http://www.newsweek.com/2016/09/23/george-w-bush-white-house-lost-22-million-emails-497373.html">Newsweek: The George W. Bush White House 'Lost' 22 Million Emails</a><br />
<br />
Oh, hello Pot. Meet Kettle. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.salon.com/2016/11/01/is-hillary-clinton-an-emailing-criminal-a-nonpartisan-guide-to-national-security-and-foreign-policy-issues-in-the-presidential-election-part-i/">Salon: Is Hillary Clinton an emailing criminal? A nonpartisan guide to national security and foreign policy issues in the presidential election</a><br />
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<a href="http://mediamatters.org/research/2015/10/21/a-comprehensive-guide-to-myths-and-facts-about/206289">Media Matters: A Comprehensive Guide to Myths and Facts about Hillary Clinton, Benghazi, and Those Emails</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://medium.com/the-curious-civilian/admit-it-the-clinton-email-controversy-bothers-you-yet-you-dont-actually-know-what-the-clinton-511dc1659eda#.np74cp69m">Admit It. The Clinton Email Controversy Bothers You, Yet You Don't Actually Know What the Clinton Email Controversy Is</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.factcheck.org/2016/10/a-false-corruption-claim/">Fact Check: Hillary Clinton 'Corruption' Claim</a><br />
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Also, if you're going to get your news from Facebook, follow Dan Rather. He's awesome. <br />
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Watch:<br />
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Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-58565152713117854832016-10-14T07:00:00.000-07:002016-10-14T14:51:21.068-07:00N to the mother-effing OPEIf you live here on planet earth you may have already heard this one before, but do me a favor. Just for shits and giggles. Read this out loud:<br />
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<i>I did try and fuck her. She was married....I moved on her like a bitch. But I couldn’t get there.... Then all of a sudden I see her, she’s now got the big phony tits and everything. She’s totally changed her look.... Yeah, that’s her. With the gold. I better use some Tic Tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.... <b>Grab ’em by the pussy. You can do anything.</b></i><br />
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Read it to your mother, your wife, your daughter, your sister, your female friend. Ask her how it makes her feel. Ask her if it reminds her of the time (<a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/davidmack/first-sexual-assault?utm_term=.nuJObWkxa#.fj7GJPYZ7" target="_blank">there almost certainly was one - at least one</a>) when someone "grabbed her by the pussy" or manhandled her "big phony tits" or tried to shove his slimy hands up her skirt. Ask her how she felt in that moment when a stranger, or a coworker, a boss, or a friend, decided that this woman's (or girl's) body was not her own, not really. That he was entitled to grab and grope and poke at her body like a piece of meat wrapped in flimsy plastic at the supermarket. Ask her how it feels to be on the receiving end of a creepy, horny man who has no qualms using his power and position to demean, degrade, and defile you for his amusement. As though it is a game.<br />
<br />
(I was recently talking, with a man, about the high school daughter of his friend who was sexually assaulted, and whether they should report it to the authorities. I asked, "What level of sexual assault are we talking about?" Him: There are levels? Me: Yeah, I think every woman I know has technically been sexually assaulted, including myself. But I've never called the police or anything. Him: What do <i>you </i>mean by sexually assaulted? Me: You know, like guys grabbing my boobs or my ass [him nodding like, okay, sure, not ideal but probably not worth calling the police], or, you know, trying to shove their fingers in my vagina... Him: [Record screetch, freeze frame.])<br />
<br />
Yeah. That. </div>
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Read it to your son, and tell him how it would make you feel, as his mother or father, if you heard him speaking this way about women. THIS IS HOW THE BROCK TURNERS OF THE WORLD GET MADE, PEOPLE! Normalizing this type of behavior, writing it off as "boys will be boys." F. That. Not my boy. Not on my watch.<br />
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Or, hey, here's an idea - read it to ANY DECENT HUMAN BEING. Even penis-carrying members of society can and should be PISSED OFF right now.<br />
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Can someone please explain to me how anyone can defend this man???</div>
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If you dismiss it as "locker room banter," saying this is "just the way guys talk," you hang out with shitty humans. Either that, or you are one.<br />
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"Sex talk" is not the same as "<i>sexual assault </i>talk." It's not the fact that he's talking about her tits and pussy. It's the fact that he thinks he's <i>entitled to grab her genitals without her consent </i>because he's a "star" (in what galaxy I do not know) and he can "do anything."<br />
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I've never read <i>Fifty Shades of Grey</i> but I assume any attempt to excuse DJT's behavior on that basis isn't worth the minimal amount of brain cells it would take to refute it. Again, there's a BIG difference between kinky, consensual sex, up to and including BDSM, and SEXUALLY ASSAULTING SOMEONE. "Sexual assault is a crime of <b><i>power</i></b> and <b><i>control</i></b>. The term sexual assault refers to sexual contact or behavior that occurs <b><i>without explicit consent of the victim.</i></b>" (Emphasis added.)</div>
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If your defense starts with the words "Bill Clinton..." Stop right there. </div>
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<br />
First, just because Bill Clinton is <i>also </i>a creeper doesn't make what Donald Trump did okay. <a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/andrewkaczynski/trump-defended-clinton-during-lewinsky-scandal-against-moral?utm_term=.ubngPbbOqJ#.gq6WL338q9" target="_blank">And, for the record, Donald Trump has said himself that what he's done with/to women is even worse than what Bill Clinton has</a>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I personally didn't vote for Bill Clinton (because I was 12 and 16 when he was elected and re-elected). Knowing what we know now, yeah, the guy is not a paragon of morality, at least in his interactions with the female species. But he isn't a hate-mongering bigot so he has that going for him. Also? This was before Al Gore invented the internet, remember, and prior to the advent of the 24 hour news cycle. But when it did come out (Lewinsky, the Paula Jones stuff) - it was a big freakin' deal. Remember that whole thing about how (<a href="http://www.snopes.com/republican-impeached-clinton-scandal/" target="_blank">a bunch of hypocrite</a>) Republicans impeached Bill Clinton for his indiscretions and lying under oath? But hey, pin an elephant on the lapel of a serial womanizer and pathological liar and you are good to go!<br />
<br />
Side note: Doesn't it seem like, as a society, we have aggressively lowered the bar on what is acceptable public behavior, both in and out of the White House? I mean, remember Watergate? If that happened nowadays people would be like, Duh, of <i>course </i>he bugged the DNC headquarters! Bill Clinton's biggest pre-election scandal was that he had smoked pot but <i>hadn't inhaled. </i>George W. Bush admitted to doing coke. Obama smoked cigarettes (yucky). I feel like at this point Donald J. Trump could say he snorted meth from a hooker's bleached asshole and no one would bat an eye. (You're welcome for that mental picture.) </div>
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<br /></div>
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Finally, and most importantly, Bill Clinton is not running for President of the United States of America. </div>
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<br /></div>
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We can get into a conversation another day about why strong, brilliant, successful women stay with philandering douche bonnets. But let me tell you this - when today's little girls grow up with a strong woman in the oval office, we'll be a little bit closer to a society where men and women really are equal, where the Brock Turners and Donald Trumps of the world cannot flourish, cannot use their power, their reality television fame, their daddy's money, their white entitlement, to thrust their fumbling dipsticks into our various orifices <i>and get away with a fake apology and a slap on the wrist.</i><br />
<br />
Aaaaand another thing - I find it <i>extremely</i> ironic that the same hand-wringing right wing conservatives who pushed for passage of the "Bathroom Bills" because they were SO CONCERNED that our defenseless little lady folk would be attacked by sexual predators wearing dresses in the ladies room (based on a <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/US/sexual-assault-domestic-violence-organizations-debunk-bathroom-predator/story?id=38604019" target="_blank">sum total of zero evidence</a>, by the way), are A-OKAY electing a man who LAUGHS ABOUT SEXUALLY ASSAULTING WOMEN to RUN THE ENTIRE NATION. Seriously. Explain it to me like a two-year old because I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around this.<br />
<br />
Did I ever tell you I used to work for the firm suing Cheeto Hitler in the Trump University case? I'd seen some deposition footage and spoken with colleagues about it and he seemed like a rich entitled prick but when he first came onto the political scene I didn't think he was as awful as he seemed. I mean, I didn't want him to be <i>president</i>, obviously, or even CEO of Walmart. But I thought he was just <i>acting </i>like a racist cockwaffle to appeal to his base. I didn't think he was <i>actually </i>a bigoted sociopathic predator, you know? I guess that's what people always say about psychopaths, right up until the point where you find human heads in their freezer. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A friend of ours coaches baseball and has instituted a 24-hour rule with respect to parents emailing him to bitch about the game. If your panties are still in a rumple 24 hours later, then you can write. I feel the same way about blogging. I like to sleep on it for a bit and see. But believe you me, my panties are still rumpled RIGHT UP. Also made of kevlar. And outfitted with those electric zapper things to stun unwanted intruders. Maybe you'll say I'm beating a dead horse, or wasting my breath because I'm not going to change anyone's mind. That may be true. Honestly, when I sat down in front of the computer to press "Publish," I just felt so <i>tired</i>, and I thought to myself, "Why? Who even cares? What difference are me and my tiny soap box in an echo chamber going to make?" And then I started thinking about it again and I'm not tired anymore, I'm MAD. I cannot, in good conscience, sit in silence while this narcissistic sociopath in a squirrel hat threatens to terrorize my country.<br />
<br />
I seriously just do not understand how real, relatively-normal-seeming human beings can try to justify this shit stain of a man, like, period, let alone in the role of commander in chief? I was ranting to my husband about this the other day (well, okay, every day). He works for a human rights organization most ultra-conservatives think is the Antichrist, but is maddeningly reasonable, and he said "Just because you're a Trump supporter doesn't mean you're a terrible person." Maybe he's right. But I am really starting to wonder. It's good in a way though, to see a human face on a Trump supporter, as opposed to some kind of Darth Maul situation like I see in my mind's eye. It reminds me - in a giant neon red danger flag type of way - that a Trump presidency is an actual (if, hopefully, increasingly remote) possibility, and I need to do my tiny part to make sure it doesn't happen.<br />
<br />
By the way, Republicans, you do not <i>have </i>to vote for this guy. No one is "forcing your hand," literally or otherwise, to cast a vote for this simpering scumbag. This is not North F*^#$% Korea. Yay democracy! That is one good thing we still do have going for us. (Though according to my crotchety old Uncle Jim, democracy actually wasn't meant for stupid people. Make of that what you will.)<br />
<br />
I just do not understand casting aside your ethics, ideals, and gut instincts in blind allegiance to a party that chose this ignorant puppet to represent it (but not the kind of puppet that does what you want it to, more like the possessed kind that tries to kill you, or grab your vagina, in your sleep.) By the way, <a href="https://www.commentarymagazine.com/politics-ideas/campaigns-elections/donald-trump-not-conservative/" target="_blank">this guy isn't even a Republican</a>, really, and he damn sure ain't a <a href="http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2016/october-web-only/speak-truth-to-trump.html" target="_blank">Christian</a>, for those who care about that kind of thing. In any event, he is the leader of a party that is frantically bailing water on a rapidly sinking ship. And hey, if your excuses and justifications let you sleep at night, well, then, that makes one of us. But you are the dance band on the Titanic, my friend. Please just don't bring the rest of the country down with you.<br />
<br />
kthanksbye.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrBqYEPDZKpJURNSHU6lyWqqW9SWWgdku3LDrQDRjwMdcrEihBzlJTKAX3nMVQKV_5GzV8XngPI82pHqnVjoTbY2tf6P3-pbtQ2pt65O5qzz9EmS7dcoNC9p-cFt3F3QmpQXiObHr7fON/s1600/IMG_9330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrBqYEPDZKpJURNSHU6lyWqqW9SWWgdku3LDrQDRjwMdcrEihBzlJTKAX3nMVQKV_5GzV8XngPI82pHqnVjoTbY2tf6P3-pbtQ2pt65O5qzz9EmS7dcoNC9p-cFt3F3QmpQXiObHr7fON/s320/IMG_9330.JPG" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I actually despise bumper stickers. I think they're so tacky and I never considered tainting my sweet-ass mom-ride with one until this election season. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right? Anyway, I had this bumper sticker that said "Not A Republican." I thought that was pretty damn pithy, if you must know. Then. Some fucking pussy (see what I did there) snuck under cover of darkness and put a sticker over the "Not A" part so that it just said "Republican." Objectively clever, I suppose. But I do not respond well to threats. See Exhibit A, below.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtD2qfDKG3Rg-aIBDGMyJaxo4Qudgm482BNTrY5tBLWyMrJn_JkZGFF9RNjjlhwTq6Jv9SCTMbz1ADiYma0eRfAY4kLdBaQT2IoqVJ9rAXkrIDr3t1AAiUbTe4wTYO5uUMclKWYk4l4Hoz/s1600/IMG_9331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtD2qfDKG3Rg-aIBDGMyJaxo4Qudgm482BNTrY5tBLWyMrJn_JkZGFF9RNjjlhwTq6Jv9SCTMbz1ADiYma0eRfAY4kLdBaQT2IoqVJ9rAXkrIDr3t1AAiUbTe4wTYO5uUMclKWYk4l4Hoz/s320/IMG_9331.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How you like me NOW?!</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.gq.com/story/a-word-for-donald-trump-voters" target="_blank">If You Vote For Trump Then Screw You</a> - Drew Magary, GQ</div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2016/10/13/michelle-obama-just-put-a-huge-and-emotional-exclamation-point-on-trumps-hot-mic-tape/" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2016/10/13/michelle-obama-just-put-a-huge-and-emotional-exclamation-point-on-trumps-hot-mic-tape/" target="_blank">Michelle Obama on Trump's Latest Disgraceful Debacle</a> (video) “And I have to tell you that I can’t stop thinking about this. It has shaken me to my core in a way that I couldn’t have predicted."<br />
<br />
Trevor Noah on The Daily Show - <a href="https://youtu.be/LiPjWUn-PUo" target="_blank">Fallout from the PussyGate Scandal, aka, Scumbag Millionaire</a> (video)<br />
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<a href="https://youtu.be/_gk72KC4jWc" target="_blank">Samantha B - Pussy Riot</a> (video) She's my new hero.<br />
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<a href="http://whatever.scalzi.com/2016/10/11/trump-the-gop-and-the-fall/" target="_blank">Trump, the GOP, and the Fall</a> - John Scalzi, Whatever<br />
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Notable endorsements of Not Trump:<br />
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<a href="http://www.al.com/opinion/index.ssf/2016/10/endorsement_hillary_clinton.html" target="_blank">The State of Alabama</a>! "Endorsement: We're with Hillary Clinton. Frankly, Donald Trump's Dangerous."<br />
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<a href="http://www.azcentral.com/story/opinion/editorial/2016/09/27/hillary-clinton-endorsement/91198668/" target="_blank">The Arizona Republic</a>: Since The Arizona Republic began publication in 1890, we have never endorsed a Democrat over a Republican for president. Never. This reflects a deep philosophical appreciation for conservative ideals and Republican principles. This year is different. The 2016 Republican candidate is not conservative and he is not qualified. That’s why, for the first time in our history, The Arizona Republic will support a Democrat for president. (They received death threats for this, by the way.)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2016/11/the-case-for-hillary-clinton-and-against-donald-trump/501161/" target="_blank">The Atlantic</a>: First endorsement in 52 years<br />
<a href="http://www.cincinnati.com/story/opinion/editorials/2016/09/23/enquirer-endorses-hillary-clinton-donald-trump/90728344/" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="http://www.cincinnati.com/story/opinion/editorials/2016/09/23/enquirer-endorses-hillary-clinton-donald-trump/90728344/" target="_blank">The Cincinnati Enquirer</a>: First endorsement of a Democrat in 100 years<br />
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<a href="http://www.dispatch.com/content/stories/editorials/2016/10/09/1-editorial-for-president-trump-unfit-clinton-is-qualified.html" target="_blank">The Columbus Dispatch</a>: first endorsement of a Democrat in 100 years<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.dallasnews.com/opinion/editorials/2016/09/07/recommend-hillary-clinton-us-president" target="_blank">The Dallas Morning News</a>: First endorsement of a Democrat in 76 years<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.detroitnews.com/story/opinion/editorials/2016/09/28/endorse-johnson-president/91254412/" target="_blank">The Detroit News</a>: First endorsement of a non-Republican (Gary Johnson)<br />
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<a href="http://foreignpolicy.com/2016/10/09/foreign-policy-endorses-hillary-clinton-for-president-of-the-united-states/" target="_blank">Foreign Policy</a>: First endorsement in 46 years<br />
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<a href="http://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/opinion/the-conversation/sd-hillary-clinton-endorsement-for-president-20160929-story.html" target="_blank">The San Diego Union Tribune</a>: First endorsement of a Democrat in its 148 year history<br />
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<a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/2016/09/29/dont-vote-for-donald-trump-editorial-board-editorials-debates/91295020/" target="_blank">USA Today</a>: First "disendorsement" in its entire 34 year history<br />
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See also, <a href="http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2016/09/clinton-trump-newspaper-endorsements" target="_blank">Mother Jones' running tally of newspaper endorsements</a><br />
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Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-48033755925765362422016-09-29T07:00:00.000-07:002016-09-29T07:00:04.211-07:00STFU: A Serenity PrayerWe moved into our (now not-so-)new house almost exactly one year ago. I like the house a lot, obviously, or else I wouldn't have moved. It has a spare bedroom so we don't have to have sleepover parties when guests come. It's within walking distance of the ocean and coffee shops and restaurants and bars and DM and I ride our bikes around town on date nights.<br />
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It's down the street from a dog-friendly park and the elementary school, where they also host a rad farmers market on Sundays. But my children, when they're being grumpy and contrary, say they like our old house better and wish we still lived there. Like that time I sent Jackson Jay to his room and he cried, "I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS! MY ROOM IS THE SIZE OF A PEANUT!" Now, they're small children. And change is hard. I get that, and I don't hold it against them (very much). Being so young, I'm hoping they will eventually look back and see <i>this </i>house as <i>the </i>house of their childhood.<br />
<br />
But even the man-child that is my husband whines about the new house on occasion. For example, we were recently hanging out with his cousins who moved to town. They're renting an ADORABLE little craftsman bungalow built in 1928 or something. And DM's like, "This place is so awesome I wished we lived here." It <i>is</i> super cute and has tons of personality, I will grant him that. It's in a really charming part of San Diego, close to downtown and surrounded by a fun, hip neighborhood. But it's teeny tiny, and old, and far away from the beach (I mean, <i>at least </i>20 minutes ;)). It also costs more than our house even though its half the size. It's not just this one enchanting house, though. He says the same thing about other, "cuter," houses in our own neighborhood, or even imaginary houses in some fantastical nether realm ("I <i>really</i> need to stop using the word 'cute.'" - DM)<br />
<br />
And in my mind (and sometimes under my breath) I'm thinking, "Are you joking me right now?!? Then why did we go through the upheaval of three arduous real estate transactions and moving and changing schools and all this DRAMA?! You're forty, not four. I didn't <i>make </i>you move against your will. This was a decision we arrived at together, or so I thought." In fact, the whole impetus behind moving was to head toward downtown, to be closer to work and more city-ish things. But we couldn't pull the trigger because we love our funky, beachy, surfy town at the outskirts of San Diego and we just couldn't bear to leave. And thank the lord we didn't because I just got a job a mile away from our [terrible] new house and I walk my kindergartner to school and buy local organic non-GMO fried cheese from the farmers market and we're basically a fucking Normal Rockwell painting here.<br />
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<br />
So, like, this is it. This is our life. And it's not too shabby. At least, that's how I see it. But apparently, I'm in the minority.<br />
<br />
Just the other night we were stressing over the property tax bill and DM said "You <i>know</i>, if we were <i>renting</i>, this wouldn't be an issue." This is basically the equivalent of warning someone about the perils of face tattoos AFTER THEY ALREADY GOT ONE. Like, not helpful. At all. Of course when I say this out loud, DM replies "FINE, I guess I'm just not allowed to have any feelings or tell you what I'm thinking ever again." I mean... when it's about something that is, for all intents and purposes, irreversible (at least without arduous and painful laser treatments)? Yeah, maybe you're not.<br />
<br />
I can't get too upset because Daddy Mack is basically the poster child for "the grass is always greener," and "buyer's remorse." At restaurants, or, for example, Cold Stone Creamery, he'll hem and haw and wiffle-waffle and then at the very last minute he makes an impulsive decision that he instantly regrets. He'll sadly consume his baked fish tacos while day-dreaming about the carnitas chimichanga that got away, or hate-eat his strange strawberry-banana-butterfinger-gummy-bear ice cream concoction. But I don't want him to think of our happy new house as baked butterfinger gummy bear tacos, you know?<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong. I loved our first house and feel nostalgic for it too. It will always hold a special place in my heart, kind of like how I imagine some people feel about their vintage two-seater sports car they had to trade in for a family wagon. But, you know, a two-seater sports car isn't real practical for a family of four plus two dogs.<br />
<br />
Funny random small-world side-note - one of the partners at my new law firm actually owns our old house! So I suppose if DM and the kids <i>really </i>want to go back, I could send them for a visit :) Or we could arrange a house-swap.<br />
<br />
Anyway, this new house debate is representative of a larger discussion regarding whining about things that you can't change. How does the serenity prayer go?<br />
<br />
Dear God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. I think what God was trying to say here was: Quit yer damn bitchin'.<br />
<br />
As my mom always used to say, don't complain about it unless you have an actual solution.<br />
<br />
I was talking to my brother and sister about our mom's old adage, and my brother said, "See, I totally disagree. Validation is so important. You have to let someone know their feelings are heard." "Spoken like a true millennial," I said. But then he reminded me about my anxiety and how DM and I learned this wondrous tool from Dr. Psych mom:<br />
<br />
Instead of minimizing her feelings, "<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/samantha-rodman-phd/7-reasons-your-wife-is-st_b_6621940.html" target="_blank">try to meet your wife where she is in her anxiety and stress. And, like a magic trick, she will actually get less stressed.</a>" True story.<br />
<br />
So okay, <i>fine</i>, one point for the young millennial with <i>feelings </i>;)<br />
<br />
And, as DM reminds me, not everyone has a blog where they can bitch about things. Some people have to complain the old-fashioned way. And that's legitimate, I suppose.<br />
<br />
Still. Pity parties should have time limits, shouldn't they? Like birthdays at those kiddie places where they kick you out when your time's up. Move along people! What's the point of repeatedly grousing about something that just "is what it is?" At what point does it cross the line from being therapeutic to you being a big fat whiner pants?<br />
<br />
A couple months ago my BFFs were in town and I witnessed a moment of pure parenting genius. One of Claire's kids was crying about something and she said "Oh man that's so sad! Let's cry about it for 10 seconds and then we need to stop, okay?" Then she slowly counted to 10, and in some mystical feat, the kid stopped crying! (Editor's note: I tried it, and my children appear to be impervious to this particular brand of parenting wizardry.)<br />
<br />
I guess that's essentially what blogging is for me, except instead of 10 seconds its 1,000 to 3,000 words :) Like journaling, or writing out your "To Do" list before you go to sleep. It's basically dumping the pity party out of my head onto "paper" so that it's no longer taking up real estate in my brain. And I guess that's how I should think about it the next time some big or little person comes to me to get their grump on. Get it all out. Wrap it up. Tie a nice little bow around it. And let it gooooo.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This place is the WORST.<br />
Reminds me of this crazy friend of a friend we hung out with in the Virgin Islands who would always say, while drinking rum cocktails on a secluded white sand beach with crystal blue waters lapping at his toes, "I hate this beach! This beach sucks!"</td></tr>
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<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-87812378575142657762016-09-14T07:00:00.000-07:002016-09-14T12:05:46.730-07:00Presidential PrereqsAlright hangonaminute. Let me get this straight.<br />
<br />
Have penis. Puke on Japanese Prime Minister and then faint. = PASS. It's all good. I mean, slightly embarassing but also kinda hilarious. No worries, man!<br />
<br />
Have vagina. Faint/almost faint because you have fucking pneumonia and even still you tried to power through a public event because you knew if you <i>didn't</i> show up, that, too, would be a sign of weakness = FAIL. I'm sorry! Better luck next century! You're too fragile and frail for this office. May I interest you in this velvet settee for the express purpose of lady faints instead?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girl. I am sweaty, nauseous and fainty just gettin' 'em ON!<br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/Caissie/status/775038435719516160" target="_blank">Caissie St. Onge</a> on The Twitter</td></tr>
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America, to Hillary: "SHOW NO WEAKNESS! Okay well now you just look like a bitch. BE HUMAN! Relatable. NO, NOT LIKE THAT!"<br />
<br />
“<a href="http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/columnists/ct-clinton-sick-glanton-20160913-column.html" target="_blank">A woman can’t afford to stay home and nurse a cold – or even recover from pneumonia – when she’s trying to break through a glass ceiling</a>,” writes Dahleen Glanton in the Chicago Tribune.<br />
<br />
Story of my fucking life. Not to mention, when you still have kids at home, you don’t get to call in sick, even when you have pneumonia (speaking from experience), because you already used all your <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/08/sick-day.html" target="_blank">sick days</a> on your bite-sized biohazards (that you love dearly and thank your blessings for daily, of course, thank you and amen).<br />
<br />
It’s such BS. I think I’ve already mentioned this before, but a while back, shit was hitting the fan in work and life and the kids were sick (and of course they never get sick at the same time, no no no, that would be too simple. God/Karma/Mother Nature like to space it out to maximize the professional collateral damage).<br />
<br />
Anyway, DM and I were having to alternate days home with the little sickies and he was getting frustrated and I was like, “I’m so sorry, I hate that feeling when you know you’re going to get those passive aggressive comments from your bosses and you feel like you have to work double-time to get out from under the assumption that you’re a slacker.” He looked at me funny and said, “No one at work cares. They understand sick kids. I just have a bunch of shit to do.”<br />
<br />
Oh. Well. That must be nice.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/03/suck-by-suck-west.html" target="_blank">Angry feminist lawyer mama</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of HillaryMoji from the App Store</td></tr>
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BY THE WAY - If a male President/Candidate actually had pneumonia, he'd probably have Air Force One fly him to the Vatican so the Pope could personally perform his last rites. Just sayin. </div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gLj7fj-3L78" width="560"></iframe>Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-21270344693003056312016-09-02T06:00:00.000-07:002016-09-02T12:49:06.922-07:00Pease Porridge LukewarmHowdy! <br />
<br />
Life is weird and hard and good.<br />
<br />
I just made myself toaster waffles for lunch. I did not cook them long enough. I had a sneaking suspicion this was the case, based on their color and texture. But they're gluten free and gluten free things always look kind of unappetizing, so I thought, "Eh," and proceeded to apply butter and syrup. Lo-and-behold, I go to take a bite, and the waffles are still cold in the center. But I can't put them back in the toaster oven because they're covered with butter and syrup. So I put them in the microwave. One minute later, there is a sticky beige lump in the middle of the plate. Ergo, I am eating soggy waffle soup for lunch. Well, really it's more like waffle porridge. Goldilocks I am not.<br />
<br />
I don't have many spare words lying around these days but I just wanted to sound off real quick about the Colin Kaepernick drama.<br />
<br />
I will say, when I first saw this story before it caught fire, I thought to myself, "Well, that's probably now how I would've gone about it." But hey, to each their own. I am not a person of color in America, so I don't feel it is generally my place to police the manner in which persons of color protest.<br />
<br />
Next thought: Why are people making it about the military? I don't get it. Since when did refusing to stand for the national anthem become a personal fuck you to veterans? Probably not as long as the national anthem has been an <a href="https://theintercept.com/2016/08/28/colin-kaepernick-is-righter-than-you-know-the-national-anthem-is-a-celebration-of-slavery/" target="_blank">underhanded fuck you to African Americans</a>.<br />
<br />
Also? The swill these so-called "patriots" are spouting on the interwebs??? IT'S SO INSANE! Sickening and backwards and racist and ignorant and INSANE. Like, <i>do you hear yourselves? Did you skip school the day logical reasoning and rational thought were taught in school??? </i>Or the minimum standards of membership in a civilized society - namely, try not to be a terrible human being? "MURRICA! THE LAND OF THE FREE! WE FOUGHT AND <i>DIED</i> FOR YOUR RIGHT TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT AS LONG AS IT IS NOT THAT, OR THAT, OR THAT..."<br />
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<br />
"GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM, KAEPERNICK, YOU [Insert Despicable Racial Slur Here]." Um, okay... So... Milwaukee, Wisconsin?<br />
<br />
I loved this piece by Kareem Abdul Jabbar in the Washington Post:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2016/08/30/insulting-colin-kaepernick-says-more-about-our-patriotism-than-his/?utm_term=.46642f2d06ba" target="_blank">"One of the ironies of the way some people express their patriotism is to brag about our freedoms, especially freedom of speech, but then brand as unpatriotic those who exercise this freedom to express dissatisfaction with the government's record in upholding the Constitution." </a><br />
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<br />
I'm actually glad, in a way, that the conversation was monopolized by the military because out of that came one of the most refreshing and heartwarming things I've seen in a long while - the #<a href="http://www.ninersnation.com/2016/8/31/12725282/veteransforkaepernick-trending-twitter" target="_blank">VeteransforKaepernick</a> hashtag on The Twitter. Made my freeze-dried little heart swell three times its size.<br />
<br />
At the end of the day, though, it wasn't about veterans at all. It was and is about the iconic image and anthem of a country that <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/" target="_blank">systemically devalues the lives and brutalizes the bodies of people of color</a>. Did you know my husband gave a presentation the other day at the local chapter of the NAACP? The topic was "How to <i>not die</i> as you make your way from Point A to Point B in your own damn country/city/neighborhood/street." I'm paraphrasing. It may have been, "Get home safely." But still. In the words of Larry Wilmore, "<a href="http://www.rawstory.com/2015/07/larry-wilmore-on-sandra-bland-black-people-have-to-act-like-the-dowager-countess-to-avoid-police-brutality/" target="_blank">Black people have to strategize [and/or act like the Dowager Countess] so they're not brutalized by the police</a>." This is not okay.<br />
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<br />
I don't have the magic pill or the silver bullet (but I'm <i>pretty sure </i>anything having to do with bullets is <i>not </i>the answer). One thing I do know what sitting around wringing our hands and drowning in white guilt, avoiding hard conversations and truths because they are icky and uncomfortable? I know that is NOT the answer.<br />
<br />
Side note: I find it FASCINATING and TERRIFYING to compare the treatment of famous athletes who do drugs, beat their wives and girlfriends, and kill animals and humans, vs. one who refused to stand for the national anthem in protest of police brutality and inequality in his country.<br />
<br />
Everything is terrible, but I have a stubborn sliver of faith that we're going to figure it out. Things like #VeteransForKaepernick give me hope.<br />
<br />
Homework:<br />
<br />
A little refresher course - MLK, Jr.'s <a href="https://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html" target="_blank">Letter from a Birmingham Jail</a>.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/10-ways-white-people-can-help-make-black-lives-matter-dg/" target="_blank">10 Ways White People Can Help Black Lives Matter</a> on The Good Men Project<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.splcenter.org/20100216/ten-ways-fight-hate-community-response-guide" target="_blank">10 Ways to Fight Hate: A Community Response Guide</a> from the Southern Poverty Law Center<br />
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<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-29971382694929155682016-08-26T12:00:00.000-07:002016-08-26T17:03:16.683-07:00Let Them Eat CakeOh, hello there. Long time no see. How's it goin? What's new?<br />
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I've been a wee bit busy. That's part of my excuse for being MIA. The other part is that Donald Trump's presidential campaign has made me question my reason for being, which has eclipsed my mommy blogging motivation.<br />
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These times, they are a changin'!<br />
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I left my old job after five years. But I took this lamp. And also that one. And this one. And the other one too.<br />
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Then we had a Michael Jackson party for The Boy's 6th birthday. This was at his request, which kind of made me feel like I was winning at this parenting thing. (He's too young to appreciate any awkward irony.) But about a week before the party, a little buddy of his came over and apparently didn't know who Michael Jackson was, so J$ said he changed his mind and wanted to have a ninja party instead. I said A) TOO LATE. And B) Your friend needs to reevaluate his life choices. Duh.<br />
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The night before the party I almost died the death of a thousand paper cuts because, as per usual, I was assembling motherf*cking cupcake toppers and bedazzling oreo pops at 3am. Seriously why, WHY, WHYYYY do I do this to myself ? WILL I NEVER LEARN??<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahh. That's bettah.</td></tr>
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Also, someone RSVP'ed the night before for a FAMILY OF 5, and then someone RSVP'ed THE MORNING OF for another two kids and two parents and in case you don't know, now you know: This puts me IN A RAGE. Pet Peeve Hall of Fame right here. It drives me absolutely BONKERS. I can hear myself getting all shrewy about it and I can feel DM trying really hard not to roll his eyes at me and I still can't stop. It is seriously SO ANNOYING TO ME. Like, WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION? I'm not asking you to reply via carrier pigeon. The marvels of modern technology make it literally as easy as the push of a button. "I Will Attend." Click YES. Or NO. It's that simple people!!!<br />
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I shouldn't be so judgy. "He that is without sin among you, cast the first stone," or whatever. Once DM did this to friends of ours, but it was against my express and vehement objection. I was like, No, absolutely not, that is not okay. We are not a family of lawless savages! He went anyway. Also, I recently forgot to send my regrets to an old friend's wedding invite until two weeks prior. Oops. Dick move. But, less bad than a late RSVP - "Will Attend - <i>PLUS FOUR</i>," right???<br />
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Maybe my frustration is exacerbated by the fact that I am a woman obsessed who hand-crafts cupcake toppers and magical rainbow unicorn wands and/or orders personalized thingamajigs from Etsy or what have you. I mean it's one thing if you want to bring a few more people to a mellow backyard BBQ. But, for me, kids birthday parties are a production. There are months of careful planning, ordering, multiple trips to Michael's, crafting, baking, etcetera culminating in one mathematically and scientifically calculated afternoon of conspicuous consumption. I already order/make/bake extra everything because I now know better, but the last few parties we've had, there have been like ten unaccounted-for little critters in need of goodie bags! Maybe this is indicative of the underlying problem of kids expecting elaborate to-dos and fancy goody bags at all (a problem created by Pinterest and psycho parents like yours truly). I don't know.<br />
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ANYWAY. The party was fine. It always is. AND. The people who RSVP'ed the night before? Literally the nicest family with the most polite children I've ever met in my entire life. Like, THE actual nicest. And as they were leaving the mom said, "I already told the kids they don't get goodie bags because we RSVP'ed too late, so no worries at all if you don't have enough." Soooo, I'm an asshole. Thank the Patron Saint of Party Etiquette we had enough!<br />
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Success. DM and I celebrated the next day with a well-deserved grown-up date.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mom Purse" this, MFers.</td></tr>
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Then DM took the kids to the East Coast for a week and I started a new job and it was kind of good in a way that I could just focus on the new gig, but it felt very strange to come home to an empty, quiet, CLEAN house every night. I felt a little lost and floaty but also a lot free. I got more sleep than I have in 6 years. I subsisted primarily on popcorn, jelly beans, and toaster waffles. It was not the worst.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imma 'bout ta watch TV by myself for the first time in a year! Just as soon as I figure out which remote to use.</td></tr>
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I also had a romantical sister date complete with crafting, poolside cocktails, sunset over the Pacific, and Mexican food. It was all fun and games until the Uber driver asked if I was her mother. [Side eye emoji.]<br />
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The new job is good but hard. I feel like a newbie again and I hate not knowing things. But everyone is nice and patient and helpful and, p.s., the office is 1.5 miles away from my house!!! My commute is a tenth of what it was. The other night I texted DM "On my way. Be home in 300 seconds!" The place is also a block from the beach, and it appears that the entire staff generally works normal business hours and even kicks off by 3 on Friday to go surf. I cannot complain.<br />
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Okay, actually I can complain, just a little. I have to dress like a grown-up which is not one of my specialties. Also? There is no ice. I mean, there's like a dusty deformed block of ice from 2004 in one of the freezers. But there is no way to get cubes of ice in my beverage of choice. So basically I'm adjusting to life as a pilgrim. But don't worry. I'll get there. I'm a survivor.<br />
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One other issue is that, before I got the new job, I had signed up for this writing workshop so I could bust out the next great American novel right quick ;) There's a (self-established) daily writing quota and I figured, given my penchant for too many words, I'd be able to meet it, no problem. Haaaaaa.<br />
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Let me just say, I am eternally grateful for the opportunity and experience my last five years of employment afforded. But, as I think I've mentioned here before, the job did not require the utmost application of brain cells. Most of my job was rote and repetitious and could likely have been performed by a primate with a law degree (I happen to know several). I figured I could squeeze half my words in during lunch and still have the stamina for a post-bedtime stretch.<br />
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At the new place? Not so much. I've used more brain power in two weeks than I have in the past year. And my grey matter is a fat lazy f*ck. It is dusky viscous sludge. I am basically doing an intensive "couch-to-5K" program for my think box. Or maybe couch to half marathon. And it is somehow physically <i>exhausting</i> to be using my brain like this again. Also, writing at lunch just means I'm working an hour later. But trying to string a bunch of coherent sentences together at 9pm? Let's just say it has not been smooth sailing.<br />
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Another hurdle has been the fact that, apparently, I kind of suck at writing. I mean, *actual* writing, as opposed to blogging. My scribble-scrabble thus far can most aptly be characterized as "Bridget Jones' less witty, semi-literate, schizophrenic cousin's diary."<br />
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It has also become clear to me over these past few weeks that I do my best work when I get a bee in my bonnet about something on the internet and feel the need to preach from my tiny soap box. It is much, much harder (for me) to write, regularly, in a linear manner, and tell a story. Even (or especially) when that story is my own.<br />
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The take-home is, don't hold your breath for Mack N. Cheese to be debuting at the top of the NYT Bestseller list anytime soon :)<br />
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In the vein of lighting a fire under my tiny soap box though:<br />
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This. Freeport Bakery in Sacramento (Sac-TOWN, whoop whoop) made a cake with a Ken doll in a pretty dress. Some people got their puritan panties in a bunch, called the bakery and said they'd lost their business forever and ever ("You're not invited to my birthday party so THERE!"), "un-liked" them on Facebook, wrote them nasty messages, left negative reviews and comments, etc. Luckily, it seems the story has a happy ending. Support for the bakery in general, and orders for the fancy Ken cake in particular, have been flooding in after the story went viral. Git it, gurrrrl.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFb4fRR4xFq2OBQTDWkaFzI5nqMdyqLK55_gj712N-FyPAq3wbh-Sst4nmmFQXg1tCZpxbeLPxrnuG3TTm6pMmTFF6u86aS7vPLBEHkmp6wxsAufsXHgRTe2kuwmIT9fNdiuIpBP10E8TH/s1600/ken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFb4fRR4xFq2OBQTDWkaFzI5nqMdyqLK55_gj712N-FyPAq3wbh-Sst4nmmFQXg1tCZpxbeLPxrnuG3TTm6pMmTFF6u86aS7vPLBEHkmp6wxsAufsXHgRTe2kuwmIT9fNdiuIpBP10E8TH/s320/ken.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's my party, I'll have a trans-Ken cake if I want to!<br />
Hater's gonna hate. The rest of us get cake!<br />
Image courtesy of the Sacramento Bee.<br />
Read the story <a href="http://sacramento.cbslocal.com/2016/08/26/ken-doll-cake-orders-flooding-freeport-bakery-after-photo-goes-viral/" target="_blank">here</a>. </td></tr>
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I'm glad it ended well but the initial backlash still chaps my hide. Why is it that when a bakery <i>refuses </i>to make a cake for a non-traditional client/theme/occasion based on their "religious" or "moral" views, these whackadoodles are like, "RAH RAH RAH! RIGHTZ! You can't force a bakery to make a cake they don't agree with. Private business are free to make whatever they want and <i>not</i> make whatever they <i>don't</i> want! Yeah! CAPITALISM! FREEDOM! GOD! THUH CONSTITUSHUN! 'MERICA!!!"<br />
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BUT THEN! When a bakery exercises it's GOD- (or Adam-Smith-given) RIGHTS and bakes a deliciously sassy cake AT THE REQUEST OF A PAYING CLIENT, these same 'Merica - FuckYeah fools are like, "DON'T GET YOUR GAYNESS ON MY GOD OR MY FREEDOM OR MY FROSTING!"<br />
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YOU CAN'T HAVE YOUR CAKE/CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS AND EAT THEM TOO, PEOPLE!<br />
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Okay I'm going to go crawl back under my rock now, byeeee.<br />
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Wait, just kidding, I'm back. I forgot one small recent milestone. My kids also started Pre-K and Kinder on Monday and NOBODY CRIED.<br />
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The end.Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-16458286801453969532016-07-09T08:34:00.000-07:002016-07-09T08:34:01.138-07:00The Great White Butt Hurt<div class="MsoNormal">
Fuck. Everything is terrible.<br />
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[Warning - this is probably not PC - or coherent. But you're probably used to that by now ;)]</div>
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When I was crying to my husband about how America is going to hell in a handbasket, he reassured me that it’s really the same as it ever was, only now, Joe Facebook is privy to what's really going on. I'm not so sure. But maybe it's true. My sister said today she wishes she lived in our grandparents' time. "Things were simpler then." I was like, You mean when black people weren’t allowed at the same schools and restaurants and restrooms as white people, and Japanese-Americans were sent to internment camps? Hmm, good point. Still, I feel like social media is pouring fuel on the fire. Husband's response? Good. In the words of my imaginary boyfriend Alexander Hamilton, “Time to fan this spark into a flame.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The fire consumes me, though. I have a job where I am actually expected to work, children and pets who need to be fed and cared for, and I am told the human body requires sleep. But how? How can a person be expected to sleep at a time like this? To show up for work? To have a conversation and not cry? How can anyone be expected to attend to quotidia today? How can a person be expected to resist the twin anchors of anger and despair, dragging them under the surface? Honestly, all I want to do is throw my phone into the ocean, shove my white guilt down into some deep dark corner of my soul, and snuggle up in the nap castle with my people.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But, to paraphrase many a great mind, nobody’s saving the world from the cozy confines of a blanket fort.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Where do we even start though, you know? Leave aside for a moment the discursive beast of racism in America. Just, like, what do I even say to my black colleagues in the elevator today? “Uhhhh, TGIF?” To my black friends who are afraid to walk alone or drive in certain parts of town? To my white friends raising black daughters and sons? To talk about anything <i>but </i>this seems so trivial, maybe even downright offensive. But what else do I say? “I sincerely apologize on behalf of America?”<br />
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Especially as a straight, white woman - in the face of inequality – I feel almost hamstrung by my privilege, if that makes any sense? The masters tools and all that. This is how I feel like it typically goes:<o:p></o:p></div>
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Something terrible happens to black person because s/he is black (or gay man or trans woman or latina lady, etc).<o:p></o:p></div>
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People say #blacklivesmatter and if you stay silent, you are part of the problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And us worrying white folks are "<a href="https://twitter.com/BroderickGreer/status/751033946960498689" target="_blank">preoccupied with doing something</a>," so, after a period of hand-wringing, we speak up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then black people say, YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT. (See, e.g., the whole <a href="http://time.com/4383516/jesse-williams-bet-speech-transcript/" target="_blank">Jesse Williams speech</a> and <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/justin-timberlake-wrong-jesse-williams-article-1.2690298" target="_blank">Justin Timberlake backlash</a>.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then white people say: Okay, well, TELL ME WHAT TO DO THEN!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then black people say: OMIGOD ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS RIGHT NOW? <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ijeoma.oluo/posts/10153536974817676" target="_blank">I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO EDUCATE YOU ON PROPER WHITE-PRIVILEGE-IN-BLACK-CRISIS PROTOCOL</a>.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Enter The Great White Butt Hurt.<br />
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I’ve felt it myself. It's confusing and it sucks when you are trying to help and you're told you're doing it wrong. But you know what sucks worse? Mothers and fathers raising children who are SIX TIMES as likely to be incarcerated or killed as their white counterparts. Black men and women literally fearing for their lives at routine traffic stops. It's madness. And it has to stop.</div>
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I had a couple of thoughts that helped put it in context for me. Not sure if they’ll be useful to you but here goes:<o:p></o:p></div>
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First, I’ve always been a big stress ball. It’s like I wear a technicolor dreamcoat of feelings. Especially after my mom and stepdad died, I felt like I needed to take up my little sister and brother’s troubles as well. They’ve both had more than their share of drama in their lives and I was often sucked into the vortex (of my own volition). I functioned with a pretty high baseline of stress. That was just how I rolled. But when I had my first child, I started having these debilitating panic attacks. Like I kind of thought I was dying. I went to a therapist and she asked what was going on and I started telling her about everything that was happening in my brother’s and sister’s lives, as opposed to my own. Her advice to me: You are not your sister’s or your brother’s keeper. You need to extricate yourself from their stuff so that you have the emotional bandwidth to deal with your own stuff, including but not limited to, your newborn child. Easier said than done, of course. But as many a mommy blog have told us – you have to put your own oxygen mask on first, or else you’re no use to anyone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And that's exactly what’s going on here. Black Americans are putting their own oxygen masks on first. It’s not their job to fold their rage into a pretty, palatable little package for us. (Like when men on the street tell women to "smile.") The marginalized and oppressed are not required to filter their fury so as not to offend. It is not their job to comfort and reassure, to put us at ease, to worry about our precious snowflake feelings. It’s not their responsibility to hold our hands and guide us through our extremely uncomfortable white guilt. They’re a <i>little </i>busy right now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When people are hurt and scared and backed into a corner - they lash out. My children have reinforced this lesson. They don’t want my help or anything else I have to offer. I mean, even if I give them exactly what they asked for 30 seconds ago, THEY DON’T WANT IT ANYMORE. And sometimes I want to say, “Fine! Have it your way! You can just do it your own damn self!” <o:p></o:p></div>
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The thing is, YOU HAVE TO GIVE THEM LOVE ANYWAY. EVEN WHEN THINK THEY DON’T WANT IT.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Think about it. When someone loses a loved one, do you call them up and say, “Do you prefer peonies or gerbera daisies? What about meals? Are you in the mood for a nice filet mignon with italian risotto and braised baby asparagus? Or maybe you’d prefer roast duck with a cherry glaze?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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No. You fucking send them some flowers and/or cook them some food and/or write some heartfelt words, even if they’re the woefully wrong ones. <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/06/an-ode-to-my-people.html" target="_blank">Or you send them new underwear</a>. The point is, YOU GIVE IT TO THEM ANYWAY. (And to all the Brock Turners of the world, crisis casserole is pretty much the only thing you can force on someone without their consent.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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When all a person can feel is hurt and fear, they’re not really in a place where they can verbalize what they need from you. They’re not going to give you a carefully crafted power point presentation on What White People Can Do To Help. They need the pain to go away before they can deal with anything else. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And they need us - all of us - to help heal the pain. <o:p></o:p></div>
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By the way. If you are one of those people who does not believe racism exists, well, then, I really don’t even know what to say to you. Can I tell you that I’ve been pulled over, oh, I don’t know, at least ten times in my life? Do you know how many times I’ve gotten shot? Do you know how many times I’ve been dragged out of my car and thrown down face first on the street with a knee in my back and a gun to my head? Do you know how many times I’ve even been asked to get out of my car? Do you know how many times I’ve even gotten a goddamn ticket? Zero. The answer to all of those questions is – ZERO. (I did actually have a cop unholster his gun, once, when I was pulled over in a DUI trap. I had been living in the Virgin Islands for a few months, driving a beater car no more than a mile or two at 20 miles per hour (AND drinking and driving is legal there), and it was our first night back Stateside and I was driving DM’s unfamiliar car and had had one beer and couldn’t figure out how to roll down the window and was all sweaty and flustered and so I just opened the car door and got out. Just FYI, that was ill-advised. But you know what came of it? Nothing. You had better believe if I was a black man, I’d have ended up in handcuffs IF I WAS LUCKY. I could also very well have ended up dead.)</div>
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Read <a href="http://thinkprogress.org/justice/2016/06/20/3790300/sotomayor-dissent-illegal-stops/" target="_blank">Justice Sotomayor's dissent</a> in the recent Supreme Court case that tooth the teeth out of the Fourth Amendment: "This Court has allowed an officer to stop you for whatever reason he wants....It implies that you are not a citizen of a democracy but the subject of a carceral state, just waiting to be catalogued."<br />
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And another thing that should be obvious, but isn’t, apparently: You aren’t anti-police just because you’re pro-black-lives. It’s not a zero sum game. Again, back to life’s lessons from preschoolers. This facile reasoning is like when I tell my daughter she’s a being a good listener, and my melodramatic son says, “Oh, FINE, I guess I’m just THE WORST LISTENER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!” Listen to <a href="https://youtu.be/tP0awqth0XI" target="_blank">Trevor Noah on the Daily Show</a>. He summed it up pretty well. Also my main man John Stewart.<br />
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The reason things are still the same is because nobody actually DOES anything to change it. Viral videos and trending hashtags peel back our eyelids and thrust the ugly underbelly of America into our faces. And that’s good. There’s a place for that. Consciousness raising is an important aspect of social change. For example, the potential fucking LYNCHING of a black man in Piedmont Park in Atlanta yesterday was on The Twitter a full 12 hours before it hit fringe media, and I still haven’t heard anything about it in the mainstream (I honestly cannot believe I am talking about “The Mainstream Media,” but here we are.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hashtags and social media platforms are powerful weapons and can be extremely dangerous when in the wrong or inexperienced hands. For example, hear <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/07/08/opinion/michael-browns-mom-on-alton-sterling-and-philando-castile.html?smid=tw-nytimes&smtyp=cur" target="_blank">Michael Brown's Mom, on Alton Sterling and Philando Castille</a> in the New York Times. "Death isn't pretty for anyone, but what these families now face is the horror of seeing their loved one die over and over, in public, in such a violent way. They face the helplessness of having strangers judge their loved one not on who he was or what he meant to his family but on a few seconds of video."<br />
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And back to the double-edged sword of social media - what about how <a href="http://www.rawstory.com/2016/07/man-wrongly-idd-as-dallas-shooting-person-of-interest-says-cops-lied-to-him-during-interrogation/" target="_blank">this guy’s face</a> was plastered all over social media as the “sniper suspect” in Dallas when he was nothing of the sort?! I mean, DA FUQ?!? It is a MIRACLE this man was not shot dead on the spot. Jesus H. Christ.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway. My point is. Social media is, or can be, a hugely important source of information, a useful tool for whistle-blowing and oversight, a way to shine light on ugly problems the world would otherwise not see (or not look at). But hashtags and Facebook posts to not, in and of themselves, effect change. It’s what we DO with this eye-opening, brain-melting information that matters. Thoughts and prayers ain’t doin’ jack shit for nobody. We can’t just WISH for the light, we have to BE the light. Right now, black people don’t need white “allies.” They need activists, accomplices, aiders and abettors of change.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Same goes for white people/people of color, straight people/LGTB community, women/men. As the saying goes, yes, all houses matter, but fire fighters focus their hoses on the ones that’re on fire. Yes, all bones matter, but doctor’s going to attend to the ones that are broken. Put on your own oxygen mask first.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Alright. That’s it. That’s today’s broadcast from my mini soap box. (WHAT IS THIS? A SOAP BOX FOR ANTS?!?!?)<o:p></o:p></div>
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THINGS YOU CAN DO:<o:p></o:p></div>
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1) Check your privilege (as my little brother says). Critically examine your beliefs and biases. And remember, this is not about you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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2) Talk about hard things. Especially with your children. Say them out loud. Even when it’s hard to find the words.<o:p></o:p></div>
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3) Let people know you care. This was the number one complaint from my LGBT friends and family in the wake of Orlando – “Are you seriously posting cat pictures right now??? You cannot just pretend this didn’t happen. 50 members of my community were just gunned down, I do not give one single fuck about your soufflé.” I’m sure the black community feels the same. This goes back to talking about hard things and finding the words. But, having experienced profound loss and been on the receiving end of the gamut of social responses thereto, I can tell you, it’s better to say something, even the wrong thing, than nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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[OR MAYBE NOT OMFG – Remember that time when I was trying to not hide behind the white shroud of silence and indifference so I contacted various friends and family who are either black, or raising black children, or raised by black parents, to tell them, I don’t know what, exactly, but that I’m not just going to sit here in complicit silence. And my cousin, who is married to a black man from Zambia, and who is raising a son 5 months older than my own, responded, “What are you talking about?” <i>Apparently</i>, cousin’s husband is the family news filter and hadn’t quite gotten around to sharing the recent events. If we had been sitting around a table instead of a group text, I would have gotten a swift kick to the shins. Holy hell. Sorry for ruining your weekend, cuz :-/ I feel like such a dick. But hey, better to stick your foot in it than sit on your hands and do nothing, right? (If you could just go on ahead and cosign on my assholery, that’d be greeeeat. Thanks!)]<o:p></o:p></div>
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4) When you run out of words (or when you get cut off because you have a nasty case of verbal diarrhea) listen. And listen hard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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5) Know the law, and if you don’t like it, work to change it. Don't know where to start? Try <a href="http://www.law4blacklives.org/#respond-section" target="_blank">Here</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Just do something. Doing something - anything- is better than doing nothing.<br />
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THINGS YOU CAN WATCH/READ:<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/on-mothering-white-sons-to-know-blacklivesmatter_us_577e85bce4b03288ddc57d79" target="_blank">On Mothering White Sons to Know #BlackLivesMatter</a> by Alyssa Hadley Dunn on Huffington Post<br />
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This <a href="http://imgur.com/a/YkDVQ" target="_blank">law school professor's response</a> to a student's complaint about his Black Lives Matter t-shirt (courtesy of my sis in law). I'm still a fan of shouty caps though. What can I say.<br />
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<a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/hannahgiorgis/lineage?utm_term=.hb7xQyoLy#.fyzqNj6Wj" target="_blank">17 Poems to Read When the World is Too Much</a> on Buzz Feed.<br />
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This <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ACLU.Indiana/videos/10153774866866194/" target="_blank">amazing poem</a> by Januarie York on #BlackLivesMatter for ACLU of Indiana. Phew.<br />
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Watch <a href="https://www.facebook.com/OccupyDemocrats/videos/1178118032281249/" target="_blank">this video</a>, and ask yourself the same question.<br />
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"<a href="http://www.vox.com/2015/5/28/8661977/race-police-officer" target="_blank">I'm a black ex-cop, and this is the real truth about race and policing</a>." By Redditt Hudson on Vox.<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/29vNTIm" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Race and the Subject of Masculinities</a> (I had this as a text book in college, but it seems more apropos than ever)</div>
Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-50545617090043820752016-06-16T22:00:00.000-07:002016-06-17T14:31:55.463-07:00Guns, Gays, GodsWhat happened in Orlando last weekend was an act of hate and terror. I've been trying all week to stay out of the fray. Not because I don't care, but because I care too much. This tragedy, and the (social) media response, has gutted me on so many levels. As a sister, friend, and ally to the LGBT community. As a wife to the son of Muslim immigrants from Iran. As a mother, who sends her children to school every day - schools that should be safe havens for children to play and grow, that now hold active shooter/shelter-in-place drills every month. As a mother who cannot imagine getting a text from her 19-year-old son, "Mommy, I'm gonna die." As a citizen of the United States of America, a country I thought stood for liberty and justice for all. As a human f$%&ing being.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVq5OZUEMSH9SJuKeuaiaBBB7BujmuHipdtH13joQyEl8Vl1QxbhtpXcOoEwbpZe47FUWs_UgQslbPyWNHepP0zySpcN0hs06c_Je6SfchQVHNp0C-IL8TD9uG9yNSPoct76R_rx1cuUVp/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVq5OZUEMSH9SJuKeuaiaBBB7BujmuHipdtH13joQyEl8Vl1QxbhtpXcOoEwbpZe47FUWs_UgQslbPyWNHepP0zySpcN0hs06c_Je6SfchQVHNp0C-IL8TD9uG9yNSPoct76R_rx1cuUVp/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo cred to my little bro - from the vigil for the Orlando victims in the Castro.</td></tr>
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Forty-nine innocent lives snuffed out. This man shot up a church on Sunday. It's gut-wrenching, wicked, wretched.<br />
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The thing is, once I commit emotional bandwidth to something, I'm all in. All my chips are on the table. I feel it to my core. It seeps into my every waking thought, into my dreams. Or rather, nightmares. Last night I had three separate dreams where I got shot (two of them while I was watching Hamilton. WTF?!) There was a second that felt like minutes, between actually getting shot, and realizing that I was going to die. There was a minute that felt like a lifetime, when I realized what that would mean to my family, my husband, my children. I cry in the shower. I feel over-caffeinated and sweaty and fainty and vaguely nauseous. I'm a woman possessed. I don't think this is normal. But it would be fine, except, I have a job and a family and stuff. The despair of this bird's-eye view is just too much sometimes. I need to zoom back in, to my little life, and focus on this tiny slice of goodness I can actually put my hands on.<br />
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My sister and brother got sucked into the vortex of hateful, ignorant Facebook swill after Orlando, but I tried not to get dragged down. This is the exact purpose of Facebook's "unfollow" and "hide" buttons. Spoiler alert: If we're "friends" on Facebook and you're writing pro-NRA, anti-Muslim, anti-LGBT stuff, I have hidden your bullshit from my timeline. Because it <i>literally</i> drives me crazy. "Out of sight, out of mind," right?<br />
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But then I remembered how, in law school, we learned that silence is consent in a situation where a reasonable person would be expected to speak out. If this isn't that situation, I don't know what is.<br />
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Look, I've already written about my feelings on guns. If you're interested, you can read it <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/from-my-cold-dead-hands.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Just a few thoughts to add.<br />
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To the people that say "If the Orlando shooter doesn't represent all Muslims, then why does he represent all gun owners?"<br />
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First and foremost. THE GUY WAS AMERICAN. He was not "<a href="http://elections.ap.org/content/latest-trump-says-us-born-mateen-born-afghan" target="_blank">Born in Afghan</a>," as Agent Orange claims. He was born in New York. Yes, his parents were from Afghan<i>istan</i>. Yes, he was (probably) Muslim. Yes, he (apparently) sympathized with ISIS. But I hate to break it to you, this terrorist was free-range, organic, and home-grown, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/omar-alnatour/muslims-are-not-terrorist_b_8718000.html" target="_blank">as are the majority of them</a>. Are you, like He Who Shall Remain Nameless, honestly suggesting that we should round up millions of people, immigrants and natives alike, based solely their religion and beliefs? Alright, Herr Fuhrer, how's that gonna work? People say "Oh, the Oompa-Loompa-to-Hitler" metaphor is messy and unfair. I'm sorry but it's not even a metaphor at this point. Are you actually listening to the words coming out of this guy's mouth???<br />
<br />
Subsection 1(a): How come no one calls it terrorism when it's white guys doing it?<br />
<br />
Second, correct me if I'm wrong... Maybe I'm missing part of the narrative... But, is anyone saying ALL guns and ALL gun owners are to blame, and that the only solution is rounding up EVERY gun in America and melting them into a lake of fire? Because I know <i>I'm </i>not saying this, and I haven't heard anyone else say it either. That's why it's called gun <i><u>control</u></i>, not "eradicate all firearms from the face of the earth." I mean, don't get me wrong, it's 2016 and the Internet is basically an all-you-can-eat buffet of nuts and cheeseballs. I'm sure there are people advocating a total ban on everything from AR-15s to BB guns. But they're just as clueless as their "Every American has a constitutional right to a grenade launcher" counterparts on the far right.<br />
<br />
Who knows, maybe these nutty hippies have fallen prey to my tactical operations designed to protect me from rage-inducing hogwash on Facebook. From what I have read <i>off </i>Facebook, though, I believe the general sentiment is for <a href="http://www.ncsl.org/research/civil-and-criminal-justice/summary-president-obama-gun-proposals.aspx" target="_blank">smarter gun legislation</a>, not an out-and-out ban on guns. This includes closing the loopholes on background checks to help ensure criminals, people with mental health issues, people with a history of domestic violence, or, gee, I dunno, people that are on the FBI terrorist watch list, don't have easy access to guns. Yes, I understand giving the government the power to say who has access to guns is scary. So is the fact of mass shootings every third Tuesday. We're smarter than we look. I'm certain we can figure something out.<br />
<br />
"Gun control" would also include increased enforcement of existing gun laws. Improved communication between branches of law enforcement. Education and safety. Increased access to mental health care. Smart technology that would, for example, help prevent children from shooting themselves and others. Risk of gun death is <a href="http://annals.org/article.aspx?articleid=1814426" target="_blank">twice as likely</a> for those with guns in their homes. There has to be a way to get at the purpose you are trying to serve, while minimizing the collateral damage. Is this SO unreasonable and insane?<br />
<br />
"Gun control" should also, just an idea, include a ban on military grade assault weapons.<br />
<br />
Look, even Cheeto Jesus agrees:<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBmxrNoSR3BCzACddeUTpoLGSEpbqyPbTKTU0YBQ_F84-BRMcTYyB5GYMzycMsmoXOVXy-g3cXyCj4MNAdVsfnUmFRrTOvPAFAJtL8QMlHc2JjG4vccWhoKaRMboqp9v9s13u_7WC01Bv/s1600/trump+nra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBmxrNoSR3BCzACddeUTpoLGSEpbqyPbTKTU0YBQ_F84-BRMcTYyB5GYMzycMsmoXOVXy-g3cXyCj4MNAdVsfnUmFRrTOvPAFAJtL8QMlHc2JjG4vccWhoKaRMboqp9v9s13u_7WC01Bv/s320/trump+nra.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why does he need to meet with the NRA to pursue gun legislation? Oh, wait, I know, because the <a href="https://www.opensecrets.org/orgs/summary.php?id=d000000082" target="_blank">NRA has Congress in its pocket</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_T2gPB5MF2OHQdC3rk6h_5GR10mevJRnjb7eVnRKj19Cx-EBNbpaWo3FdSZc7tiz5WmGMGFU_ZV5nkseHRSxwG6mpDkxxoY0brdf5hovT4bMwgKtSyuGck-BQU7Ez21Ia6gZcSRke034/s1600/boro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_T2gPB5MF2OHQdC3rk6h_5GR10mevJRnjb7eVnRKj19Cx-EBNbpaWo3FdSZc7tiz5WmGMGFU_ZV5nkseHRSxwG6mpDkxxoY0brdf5hovT4bMwgKtSyuGck-BQU7Ez21Ia6gZcSRke034/s320/boro.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See also, "<a href="http://www.newyorker.com/humor/borowitz-report/n-r-a-leader-warns-of-rising-cost-of-senators" target="_blank">NRA Leader Warns of Rising Cost of Senators</a>."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Will "gun control" eliminate gun deaths in the U.S.? Not even close. Will it curb mass public shootings, or at least, the death tolls therefrom? <a href="http://www.cfr.org/society-and-culture/us-gun-policy-global-comparisons/p29735" target="_blank">Evidence</a> indicates yes.<br />
<br />
Assault rifles like the one used in Orlando are a "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/14/nyregion/ar-15-rifles-are-beloved-reviled-and-a-common-element-in-mass-shootings.html" target="_blank">common element</a>" of mass shootings. The "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/10/03/us/how-mass-shooters-got-their-guns.html?_r=0" target="_blank">vast majority</a>" of these weapons were obtained <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/national/mass-shootings-in-america/" target="_blank">legally</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopgQRD89CTXrubsTYD8jvoGdjY4ayONULaw-wW8HyGNQ51-TDEaIdivsiSHZciV3LQP1lKh5ILjh4bFHVG_4q2OKSsg8LXH0iPNMPIYm67q0gcYa7tUq4nj7eb-frWzWfcUrRt5uK8lt0/s1600/hellokittyak47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiopgQRD89CTXrubsTYD8jvoGdjY4ayONULaw-wW8HyGNQ51-TDEaIdivsiSHZciV3LQP1lKh5ILjh4bFHVG_4q2OKSsg8LXH0iPNMPIYm67q0gcYa7tUq4nj7eb-frWzWfcUrRt5uK8lt0/s320/hellokittyak47.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://boingboing.net/2007/10/18/hello-kitty-assault.html" target="_blank">Comes with hand-crocheted shoulder-stock muffler</a>." How cute.</td></tr>
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<br />
I mean, they're called <i style="text-decoration: underline;">assault</i> <i>weapons </i>for God's sake. These are weapons designed to kill as quickly and efficiently as possible. These are <a href="http://new.www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/mass-shootings-weapons-ar-15_us_575ec6b7e4b00f97fba8de0e" target="_blank">weapons of war</a>. These are weapons that have no business in the hands of civilians. You don't need a "<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2016/06/12/the-gun-used-in-the-orlando-shooting-is-becoming-mass-shooters-weapon-of-choice/" target="_blank">Black Mamba</a>" to defend your homestead or sack a twelve-point buck (I'm talking about the semi-automatic weapon, not Kobe Bryant).<br />
<br />
My favorite commentary on gun control so far is from <a href="https://twitter.com/SarahKSilverman/status/742115839722283009" target="_blank">Sarah Silverman</a>:<br />
<br />
<b>"The right to bear arms refers to muskets. But if that shit ever goes electric, rethink & modify accordingly, obvs." - Thomas Jefferson.</b><br />
<br />
Third, there's the whole Muslim = Terrorist trope. NOPE. Just no. Even George W. Bush knew better than to equate the Taliban and Al Qaeda et al with the greater Muslim faith.<br />
<br />
There are over <a href="http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2013/06/07/worlds-muslim-population-more-widespread-than-you-might-think/" target="_blank">1.6 billion Muslims</a> on Earth (23% of the population). Muslims around the world have an <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/muslims-around-world-have-overwhelmingly-negative-views-isis-n476081" target="_blank">overwhelmingly negative</a> view of ISIS. Best guestimates of the <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2014/09/26/opinion/bergen-schneider-how-many-jihadists/" target="_blank">number of jihadist militants</a> in the world is around 106,000 (though it is admittedly growing. Then again so is support for Donald Trump, so, who are we to judge?) My trusty cellphone calculator tells me that's .0066%. Other reliable sources estimate that less than <a href="http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Security-Watch/terrorism-security/2015/0113/How-many-Muslim-extremists-are-there-Just-the-facts-please" target="_blank">one percent</a> of the world's Muslim population is "at risk of becoming radicalized." I'll take those odds if the alternative is condemning a full quarter of the Earth's population based solely on the God that they worship.<br />
<a href="http://www.globalresearch.ca/non-muslims-carried-out-more-than-90-of-all-terrorist-attacks-in-america/5333619" target="_blank"><br /></a>
Also? "Radical Islamic Terrorism is the problem?" No. <a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/06/14/482041137/president-obama-slams-yapping-over-radical-islam-and-terrorism" target="_blank">Radical Islamic Terrorism</a> is <i><u>A</u></i> problem. Radical Christian Terrorism or Any-Other-Ism is also A problem. The fact that untrained civilians can buy military-grade killing machines is A problem. Skeevy White Dudes with a perceived grievance, anger management issues, and easy access to semi-automatic weapons are A Problem.<br />
<br />
<b>Let me break it down for you. ISIS is to Muslims what "People on the FBI watch list for suspected terrorist ties with <a href="https://www.wired.com/2013/02/ar-15/" target="_blank">AR-15s</a>" are to responsible gun owners.</b><br />
<br />
Next (damn, I should've made a spreadsheet). There's the whole <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/from-my-cold-dead-hands.html" target="_blank">concealed-carry</a>, "safe = armed" argument, which I've addressed before. The latest iteration goes something like, "I for one refuse to die in a blubbering heap on my knees. If I go, it's gonna be with guns blazing."<br />
<br />
I understand wanting to protect yourself, your children, your family. That's a very primal desire. Admittedly, I used to think that the whole "Oh we have to protect ourselves against a tyrannical government" thing was a bunch of tin-foil-hat crap, but now that The Hitler of Oz is one step away from the White House, I'm thinking it's not so crazy after all. I mean, I personally can't even be trusted around preschool scissors, but I get where you're coming from.<br />
<br />
Still.<br />
<br />
1) You understand that by having that right, you are also giving that right to every Tom, Dick, and Harriet on the street? Do you trust Tom, Dick, and Harriet in an active shooter situation if <i>your </i>son, daughter, mother, or father's life were on the line? What about if Tom, Dick, or Harriet is in a classroom, at an airport, or on a date with your child, would you trust them with a concealed weapon then? What if Brock Turner had a gun? And again, my fallback hypothetical: Imagine a bunch of drunk "good guys with guns" at a Raiders or Eagles game (Or, God forbid, a Raiders v Eagles game ;))<br />
<br />
2) Defending your homestead or overthrowing the government is not the same as an active shooter situation. The myth that these good guys and gals with guns will prevent or minimize the impact of active shooter situations is just that. See, e.g., <a href="https://www.fbi.gov/about-us/office-of-partner-engagement/active-shooter-incidents/a-study-of-active-shooter-incidents-in-the-u.s.-2000-2013" target="_blank">data</a> regarding <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2015/12/11/the-daily-show-effectively-debunks-good-guy-with-a-gun-theory.html" target="_blank">active shooter</a> situations in general, and <a href="http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2015/10/oregon-shooting-gun-laws-213222" target="_blank">effectiveness</a> of the "<a href="http://www.courant.com/opinion/editorials/hc-ed-good-guys-with-guns-dont-stop-shooters-often-20160613-story.html" target="_blank">good guy with a gun</a>" response in particular. Also note that <i>unarmed </i>civilians have stopped more mass shootings than armed ones.<br />
<br />
Okay. Last point. This was a hate crime. By its very definition. Referring to it as such is no more political or "PC" than Webster's dictionary.<br />
<br />
What is <i>not </i>politically correct, or, in my book, acceptable behavior by a member of the human race, is the drivel spewed by this Baptist "<a href="http://sacramento.cbslocal.com/2016/06/13/sacramento-baptist-preacher-praises-orlando-gay-nightclub-attack/" target="_blank">pastor</a>" in Sacramento: "Are you sad that 50 pedophiles were killed today? Um no, I think that's great. I think that helps society. I think Orlando, Florida is a little safer tonight. The tragedy is that more of them didn't die." This man makes me sick to my stomach. Listen up: <b>If your religion peddles hate speech as the word of God, you need a new religion.</b> (I think this last verse is from one of the lesser known parts of the Bible, the Book of Obvious.)<br />
<br />
This is a "Man of God?" Fuck this guy. He is <i>celebrating </i>mass murder. He wishes <i>more </i>innocents had been killed. Kind of like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson blaming 9/11 on The Feminists and The Gays. These "Christians" are <i>glorifying</i> the loss of human life, calling it divine intervention. <b>News flash: The religion of Islam hasn't cornered the market on crackpots who pervert an overwhelmingly peaceful religion for their own hateful agenda. </b><br />
<br />
I can't even begin to unpack this bullshit. Suffice it to say, if <i>this</i> is what God stands for? I do not have FOMO.<br />
<br />
God had ten commandments. I only have one: <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/dont-be-dick.html" target="_blank">Don't be a dick</a>.<br />
<br />
(Editor's note: Several religious friends and family members have denounced the hateful words of this small, ignorant man and others like him. I've been assured that they don't speak for all Christians. And I really appreciate hearing that from the horse's mouth, so to speak. The thing is, it's a given. In Christianity, a few bad apples don't spoil the bunch. A quick perusal of Twitter and the Internet reveals quite a lot of bad apples, actually. But for some reason the other 2 billion Christians aren't assumed guilty by association.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtw0qOHelygaGm2osbWxJ1DIxbWxkwvwOTFDSeESMAyq5wjfQ0HDGvcoT5sUKEEgSULN1uw6G-pjLS_I6obsR7IjVF0W0U1MwWK3dJ-39DU2gOyVaTtwEsHiT5Lad2ACgHt0sAjTzUu4hN/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtw0qOHelygaGm2osbWxJ1DIxbWxkwvwOTFDSeESMAyq5wjfQ0HDGvcoT5sUKEEgSULN1uw6G-pjLS_I6obsR7IjVF0W0U1MwWK3dJ-39DU2gOyVaTtwEsHiT5Lad2ACgHt0sAjTzUu4hN/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">UGH YOU GUYS. <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/donald-trump-ask-the-gays_us_5761a7dae4b0df4d586efce5" target="_blank">Donald Trump and #AskTheGays</a><br />
Please note, if and when I ever write "The Gays," Sarcasm Font is implied.</td></tr>
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As my friend X said, "Everything is fucked except burritos." How and why have so many Americans become allergic to reason? Why does everything have to be dumbed down to a misleading meme or a sensational soundbite or a click-bait headline? Why do we need our "news" cut into tiny bite-sized pieces, chewed up, and regurgitated to us (with a healthy dose of spit) like baby birds? America reminds me of my children - impatient, irrational, demanding, prone to whining and tantrums, with the attention span of a gnat. Every day I'm like, why am I cutting your grapes and peeling your oranges? Why am I helping you with your shoes? THIS IS WHY VELCRO WAS INVENTED!<br />
<br />
So then I take a stand and say "Dress yourselves, feed yourselves, clean up after yourselves, I'm not your maid," (or, in this case, your intellectual butler). "This hurts me more than it hurts you. Trust me." But then there's a lot of crying and yelling and throwing things and then the food gets spilled and the socks are on backwards and they can't walk because IT FEELS FUNNY and I'm like, UGH, FINE, give me the knife and be thankful I'm cutting your dino nuggets into sixteenths and not stabbing myself in the eye with it. Aaaand we're back to our regularly scheduled programming of treating everyone like big, dumb babies. The problem with spoiling children, and, apparently, America, is that, eventually, they grow up into life-sized A-holes and those are a lot harder to deal with than the pint-sized kind.<br />
<br />
Our nation's reaction to tragedy is rather child-like as well. When my kids are sad, mad, or scared, they lash out. They say things they don't mean. They're like baby scorpions, they haven't learned to control their venom. You know what <i>doesn't</i> calm them down? Facts. Rational discussion. "Getting angry on them" (as my son likes to say). You know what <i>does </i>work? Hugs. Hugs and snacks. Wait until everyone is well-fed and in a love-coma and THEN talk it out. See? Much better.<br />
<br />
Anyway. To my LGBT family and friends who are literally afraid for their lives as they head out to celebrate Pride. To my Muslim family and friends being shamed and insulted for their beliefs. To anyone else drowning in a deep dark pool of despair. I see you there. I'm here for you. I will not silently condone the hate. I will speak up. I will bear witness to your pain. I will hold your hand between my sweaty palms in times of fear. Know that you are valued. Know that you are respected. Know that you are loved. Know that I always have hugs and snacks on hand. And none of them are made with kale. Someone famous once said something like, "Never underestimate the power of a lot of little things done well." I say never underestimate the power of a lot of little things done with love.<br />
<br />
Okay, me and the Internet are taking a break now. Too stressful. Catch you next week, or on November 9th, maybe.<br />
<br />
PS, I'm probably on the FBI's watchlist after all the "research" I did for this post, but don't worry, I can still <a href="http://qz.com/704939/the-ar-15-is-the-gun-of-choice-for-mass-shootings-and-its-easier-to-buy-in-florida-than-a-pistol/" target="_blank">buy a semi-automatic weapon</a>.<br />
<br />
On that note, since Americans love fake news:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.newyorker.com/humor/borowitz-report/study-americans-safe-from-gun-violence-except-in-schools-malls-airports-movie-theatres-workplaces-streets-own-homes" target="_blank">Study: Americans Safe from Gun Violence Except in Schools, Malls, Airports, Movie Theatres, Worlplaces, Streets, Own Homes</a> - Andy Borowitz, <i>The New Yorker</i>.<br />
<br />
"<a href="http://www.theonion.com/article/no-way-to-prevent-this-says-only-nation-where-this-36131" target="_blank">'No Way to Prevent This,' Says Only Nation Where This Regularly Happens</a>." - <i>The Onion</i>.<br />
<br />
Or if you're feeling frisky and want to flirt with facts-<br />
<br />
Interesting/disturbing infographics from <i>The Washington Post</i> on <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/national/mass-shootings-in-america/" target="_blank">U.S. mass shootings</a>.<br />
<br />
And this. Samantha Bee is my spirit animal. So good. "We can't, constitutionally, get rid of all guns. But can't we get semi-automatic assault rifles out of the hands of civilians? 'Sam Bee wants to take your guns away.' 'Yes! The ones that mow down a room full of people in seconds? Yes, I do want to take those guns away! These high-capacity penis substitutes are a shitty choice for hunting, and home protection, but perfect for portable mayhem."<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/t88X1pYQu-I" width="560"></iframe>
(You should also watch her thing on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=usgOsNhkKVE" target="_blank">how easy it is to get a gun</a>. And <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEf3iaARPwE" target="_blank">Seth Meyers' bit on Gun Control</a>.)<br />
<br />
ALL THE YESSES to this video by former undercover CIA agent Amaryllis Fox. This is the best thing I've seen in a while. I started to quote her but then I found myself basically transcribing the whole five minute video. You just gotta watch it. I feel like I need to write on the chalkboard 100 times, "I will not view Donald Trump as a subhuman psychopath. I will not view Donald Trump as a subhuman psychopath...."<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TnEKEfkdrOU" width="560"></iframe><br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-87093810901125429042016-06-08T21:56:00.003-07:002016-06-09T12:35:04.414-07:00On Nader and Nazis"One word: Nader."<br />
<br />
My friend JCW posted this on Facebook after the California Primary on Tuesday, and I think he summed it up perfectly.<br />
<br />
Naturally, I'm going to add a lot more words, as I am wont to do. I know I "shouldn't." I know probably no one has been swayed by a political blog post in the history of ever, but I can't help myself. <br />
<br />
I keep reading stuff like "I would rather swallow broken glass than vote for 'Shillary.'" Or "This 'lesser of two evils,' two-party system is what got us into this mess, we need to do something to change it, if not now, when?" And I just feel like the over-excited kid in the front row of the classroom jumping up and down with my hand in the air like "Oh, wait, I know! Me! Me! Pick me! I know! Me! Me!" If not now, when, you ask? How about WHEN THE ALTERNATIVE IS NOT THE FLAMING DUMPSTER FIRE THAT IS <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnpO_RTSNmQ" target="_blank">DONALD DUCKING DRUMPF</a>!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Listen. I get it. I like Bernie too. I voted for him. And Hillary should take his message to heart. I mean, is she the magical rainbow unicorn of presidential candidates? No. But are you seriously telling me you'd prefer that spray-tanned shit-stain to her? Because those are the choices on the table. (I'm allowed to engage in petty name-calling because <i>I'm not running for freaking president.</i>)<br />
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Yes, the system with its <a href="http://www.stuffyoushouldknow.com/podcasts/how-dark-money-works/" target="_blank">super-PACs</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_S2G8jhhUHg" target="_blank">super-delegates</a> is super messed up. We should work to change that. 100%.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div>
Yes, the <a href="https://theintercept.com/2016/06/07/perfect-end-to-democratic-primary-anonymous-super-delegates-declare-winner-through-media/" target="_blank">"mainstream media" calling the vote for Hillary before anyone actually voted</a>? That sucked.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj329PfraH0fx3YxwbD4ecCY_PEbz49EsC-HVIvDhYync1FDJtDjXQJ1GjxQ9MAHarR9OfobDsKeeIz40z1HHIgy4hFOMPyuqvjfSP0PDTX2MNbulW1z3JetzB8axpB1s3-cNwllaH3meGs/s1600/USUncut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj329PfraH0fx3YxwbD4ecCY_PEbz49EsC-HVIvDhYync1FDJtDjXQJ1GjxQ9MAHarR9OfobDsKeeIz40z1HHIgy4hFOMPyuqvjfSP0PDTX2MNbulW1z3JetzB8axpB1s3-cNwllaH3meGs/s320/USUncut.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
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But let's be real, <a href="http://www.wsj.com/articles/hillary-clinton-takes-decisive-lead-over-bernie-sanders-in-delegate-count-popular-vote-1465389182" target="_blank">she's bringing it with the popular vote</a>. And <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/elections/results/california" target="_blank">she shellacked him in California</a>.<br />
<br />
No, she's not perfect. But since when is perfection a presidential requirement? On the other hand, not being a bigoted bag of hot air <i>is </i>a prerequisite. Or at least, it should be.<br />
<br />
In my humble opinion, now is not the time to take some symbolic, ideological stand. Don't cut off your nose to spite your face, or, don't throw the baby out with the bath water, or, uh, don't cut off a baby's nose and throw it in the river for fish food, or whatever. Are you pickin' up what I'm laying down? Donald Trump, people. I am so completely dumbfounded by this well-heeled nazi orangutan's rise to the top that I can't even think of any witty repartee. This shit is serious. This is not the time to fuck around.<br />
<br />
I <i>still </i>can't even believe this is happening. It continues to, and will forever and always boggle my mind that we are where we are today. I remember playing a particularly terrible basketball game in high school. I think we were losing, badly, to like, Waldorf or something. Anyway, at halftime, our normally good-natured basketball coach gave us a tongue-lashing. She was like, "You guys are <i>embarassing yourselves</i>. Pull your shit together." I feel like America needs that pep talk right now.<br />
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I know you can find "evidence" to support any position you want. (For real though, people need to calm the fuck down with this Google PhD, Professor Emeritus in Bullshit business.) But I really don't think Hillary's as bad as the haters make her out to be. It makes me wonder why we (myself included) have this knee-jerk negativity toward her?</div>
<div>
<br />
Ezra Klein writes "There is something about Clinton that makes it hard to appreciate the magnitude of her achievement. Or perhaps there is something about us that makes it hard to appreciate the magnitude of her achievement." You can read the whole article on Vox: "<a href="http://www.vox.com/2016/6/7/11879728/hillary-clinton-wins-nomination" target="_blank">It's time to admit Hillary Clinton is an extraordinarily talented politician</a>."<br />
<br />
Look. You're allowed to be mad. Hell, you SHOULD be mad. "If you're not mad, you're not paying attention." Isn't that a famous quote? But be mad about real things and not things you read on PawPaw's Facebook page. And don't sabotage America out of spite. If you want to put some actual facts in your brain cage, here's some extra credit for ya:<br />
<br />
Read this article on Salon - "<a href="http://www.salon.com/2016/06/08/hillarys_amazing_achievement_understanding_the_magnitude_of_clintons_historic_win/?utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=socialflow" target="_blank">Hillary's Amazing Achievement: Understanding the Magnitude of Clinton's Historic Win</a>."<br />
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<div>
Read the Jill Abramson article in the Guardian - "<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/mar/28/hillary-clinton-honest-transparency-jill-abramson" target="_blank">This May Shock You: Hillary Clinton is Fundamentally Honest</a>." </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Watch the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_S2G8jhhUHg" target="_blank">John Oliver bit about primaries, caucuses, and super delegates</a>.<br />
<br />
Listen to the Stuff You Should Know podcast about <a href="http://www.stuffyoushouldknow.com/podcasts/how-dark-money-works/" target="_blank">How Dark Money Works</a>.<br />
<br />
Watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PsqKyv86pEY" target="_blank">The Liberal Redneck - The Truth About Trump</a>.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Read the book "<a href="http://amzn.to/1Pi58XF" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Game Change</a>."<br />
<br />
Consult Politifact, Snopes, and/or FactCheck.org before you start <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/ignorance-is-not-bliss.html" target="_blank">regurgitating a bunch of shit the internet told you</a>.<br />
<br />
Read things from sources other than Facebook.<br />
<br />
Or just skip all that and read, "<a href="http://whatever.scalzi.com/2016/06/08/clinton-and-sanders-and-the-end-of-the-road/" target="_blank">Clinton and Sanders and the End of the Road</a>," by John Scalzi on Whatever, which is basically everything I wanted to say, but better, and can be summed up thusly: "Jesus fucking <i>Christ</i>, the GOP is nominating Donald Trump. I would vote a lukewarm bowl of soup into the White House before Donald Trump." "He's the walking manifestation of Dunning-Kreuger." By the way, I swear I likened Trump to a "flaming dumpster fire" before I read "a rampaging goddamn trash fire" in this post. It's just too accurate to change. How better describe the man than an orange-hot pile of slime, filth, and putrescence?<br />
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Sidebar - All this baloney about how our country is in dire straights and we need to "Make America Great Again" really chaps my hide. I mean, obviously, there is room for improvement. See, Exhibit A, Donald Trump. See also, North Carolina, Westboro Baptist, Ferguson, Brock Turner, and that creepy Duggar dude, to name a few. If I could give Donald Trump one iota of credit, it is that he has revealed my naivete to me, because, up until recently, I mistakenly believed there were only a handful of bigoted trolls throwing stones on the interwebs from the comfort of mommy's basement. I didn't realize there were enough of them to nominate a certified ass clown for president. That being said, I still think we're doing better than most. Or, we were....<br />
<br />
This whole America the Terrible refrain reminds me of when we lived in the Virgin Islands. We sometimes hung out with this friend-of-a-friend named Greggo, who, just to paint a picture for you, carried spare thong bikini bottoms in his backpack (new with tags, he wasn't a <i>complete</i> monster). He'd regularly haze female friends and acquaintances on the beach, pressuring them to get naked, and if they balked, he'd offer the thong-compromise. Good times, good times.<br />
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Anyway, whenever we were at one of a handful of the most gorgeous, calendar-worthy beaches on the planet, he would (repeatedly) make the same dumb joke, saying "I hate this beach! This beach sucks!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actual beach. Did not suck.</td></tr>
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And that's kind of how I feel about people who whine about how poorly America is doing. Let's take a closer look, shall we? Gas is $2, unemployment is below 5%, ten million more people have health access to healthcare, someone other than a dead white guy is going to be on our currency, my little brother and countless friends and relatives can legally validate their love, a woman is the presumptive democratic presidential nominee...<br />
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All things considered, <a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/in-defense-of-obama-20141008?page=2" target="_blank">Obama didn't do half bad for himself</a>. #CuzObama, but like, in a good way. I swear to God if this overgrown oompa loompa becomes president, President Obama is going to look like goddamn George Washington over here. But that won't be my problem, because I'll be drinking pina coladas on the shitty beach pictured above.<br />
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P.S. - <a href="http://www.latimes.com/politics/la-pol-ca-trump-hats-cali-fame-carson-20151124-story.html" target="_blank">Donald Trump's "Make America Great Again" hats are made in an LA garment factory by Latino immigrants</a>, because, of course they are.<br />
<br />
To bring it full circle, I guess I shouldn't get too "fweaked out." As <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/06/you-are-not-allowed-to-kidnap-lin.html" target="_blank">my boyfriend Lin-Manuel</a> pointed out in his <a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/music/features/hamilton-creator-lin-manuel-miranda-the-rolling-stone-interview-20160601" target="_blank">Rolling Stone interview</a>, "Twas ever thus," In other words, American politics has long been a shit show and we've made it this far. Apparently, in the election of 1800, Jefferson accused Adams of being a <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/08/22/mf.campaign.slurs.slogans/" target="_blank">hermaphrodite</a>, and Adams attempted to spread the rumor that Jefferson was dead!<br />
<br />
Anyway, the moral of the story is, Donald Trump is the fucking worst. Count me in, Hilly-Bean. (PS If you haven't checked out the <a href="http://www.funnyordie.com/articles/9eaf7b07ad/girliguessimwithher-is-the-perfect-hashtag-for-the-reluctant-hillary-supporter?_ccid=500b337d-1197-4e1b-a360-6b8e3b3a65c3&_cc=__dbtn" target="_blank">#GirlIGuessImWithHer</a> hashbrown on The Twitter, it's pretty funny.)<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en">
<div dir="ltr" lang="en">
<a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/GirlGuessImWithHer?src=hash">#GirlGuessImWithHer</a> is my favorite thing. <a href="https://t.co/g67tPmVUfx">pic.twitter.com/g67tPmVUfx</a></div>
— Katelyn (@Katalex) <a href="https://twitter.com/Katalex/status/740619257508139008">June 8, 2016</a></blockquote>
<script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>
That is all.</div>
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Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-33305051188414324642016-06-03T07:00:00.000-07:002016-07-09T07:55:54.667-07:00You Are Not Allowed To Kidnap Lin-Manuel Miranda*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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*Not actually a kidnapper. Promise.<br />
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<br />
Do you remember being a kid and being IN LOVE with Michael Jackson or Prince or NKOTB or Mark Wahlberg or Kurt Cobain or Dylan McKay or Brandon Walsh or Justin Timberlake or whatever other <a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/rob-fee/2013/11/the-40-biggest-teen-heartthrobs-of-the-90s/" target="_blank">beautiful face</a> you tore out of your Teen Beat magazine and taped to your mirror? I'm talking legit obsession here. These were the men (or women) you were going to have 1-4 kids and own a Mansion/Apartment/Shack/House with one day. (You remember MASH, right???)<br />
<br />
The funny thing is, this never really happened to me. I didn't watch Saved by the Bell or Melrose Place or MTV like 99.3% of my peers, so most things pop culture flew right over my head. I <i>did</i> go to a New Kids on the Block concert, and I dutifully chose my favorite "Kid," (Joey McIntyre, obv). I was "Team Brandon" all the way (brooding bad boys aren't my style), even though I'd never actually watched 90210. Kind of like how my son memorized the entire plot-line of Star Wars two years before he'd even seen it. Faking the currency of cool.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I just wasn't that into it. I think the closest I came to "fangirl" status was over sports stars. I had panoramic posters of Michael Jordan and Jerry Rice and Joe Montana plastering my walls. My girlfriends and I played football and basketball at lunch and fought mercilessly over who would get to be which player from the Bulls (I was BJ Armstrong, my BFF always got to be Michael Jordan - she was much, much better than me ;)), the Niners (my Montana to her Rice), or the Sacramento Kings (Spud Webb/Mitch Richmond, Peja/Webber). And of course, growing up in Sac, I'll always hold a special place in my heart for KJ, and forgive him his trespasses with the Phoenix Suns.<br />
<br />
So yeah. I wasn't big on the teen heartthrobs... at least not in the typical sense. That is until I was 35 years old. Let me set the scene: September 2015. I was scheduled to do a presentation at the local high school on Constitution Day. On the way there, I heard a story on the radio about <i>Hamilton</i>. I could barely contain my excitement. I'd seen <i>In the Heights</i> years ago, and knew Lin had talent. But this - Broadway + Hip Hop + The Constitution? This is the holy trifecta in my book. I proceeded to geek out to a bunch of apathetic high school kids: "Like, <i>ohmigod</i>, you guys! A rap-musical about the founding fathers!!! How super awesome is that?! Class field trip to NYC?! Anyone? Anyone?" For some reason, the students' reactions were less than enthusiastic.<br />
<br />
Surprisingly, it kind of fell off my radar for a while after that. I wanted to see the show at some point, but I hadn't yet fallen down the <i>Hamilton</i> rabbit hole. I tried to get tickets when we went to <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/02/mustache-rides.html" target="_blank">New York in February</a>, but they were outrageously expensive so we saw <i>The Book of Mormon</i> instead. BUT THEN. I bought the cast album. That was four months ago. I don't think I've gone a single day without listening to it since.<br />
<br />
When I first drank the Kool-Aid, I tried to get Daddy Mack on board. I showed him a couple of YouTube videos but he didn't seem to get the appeal. He actually said, a la <a href="http://time.com/4339446/larry-david-hamilton-white-people/" target="_blank">Larry David</a>, "Do white people just pretend to love it because it stars black people and they want to seem progressive and PC?" Um, no. Duh.<br />
<br />
ANYWAY. I fell. Hook, line, and sinker. I was <i>HELPLESS</i>. (I briefly entertained the notion of writing an entire blog post in <i>Hamilton</i> quotes, but that seemed hard and a smidge more stalkery than I intended.)<br />
<br />
Despite his skepticism, DM recognized that my feelings for <i>Hamilton</i> were not to be dismissed. I'm not sure if it was because <i>Hamilton</i> was playing every time he came home and every time he got into my car, or because I said "I HAVE to find a way to go to this show" about three times a day, but he picked up on these subtle clues. I was bonafide bonkers for <i>Hamilton</i>, and he decided to do something about it.<br />
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I cried. He laughed. I said, "I can't believe you did this!" He replied, "Are you kidding? You've literally never wanted anything more in your life. Of course I did." Swoon. Best of husbands, best of humans, right there. <3<br />
<br />
So we went. Across the country. With kids in tow. For 96 hours. <i>If it takes 6,000 miles and an unmentionable amount of dollars to see Hamilton, it will have been worth it.</i><br />
<br />
(Also, the kids were angels and the patron saint of traveling with small children was smiling down upon us when seats were assigned. Thank you, Jebus. Thank you, too, to my wonderful in-laws and also my adorable niece who provided free childcare and entertainment while DM and I escaped to NY for the night!)<br />
<br />
First order of business: What to wear? Before we left DM said, "Is it cool if I just wear jeans and a shirt to the show?" (As we both did to <i>Book of Mormon</i> a few months prior.) I said, "That's fine. You can wear whatever you want. But just so you know, I am going to be the most dressed up person there. Gotta bring my A-game, baby!" He rolled his eyes and warned, "You are not allowed to kidnap Lin-Manuel Miranda!" I replied, "Of course not! His wife seems amazing. I mean, a lawyer AND a scientist? How could I compete with that?! Maybe just... a sister wife?" ;) I admit I refer to Lin as "my boyfriend" on occasion, but honestly, I'm not that picky. I'd happily enter a plural marriage with Leslie, Daveed, or Pippa or Renee for that matter (and yes, we're on a first-name basis). <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Laughin' at my sister cuz she wants to form a harem.</i><br />
<i>I'm just sayin' if you really loved me, you would share 'im.</i><br />
<br />
So. I bought a dress. Which, by the way, nearly killed me. Literally. It's really long and has a bunch of different panels in the skirt and there's no way to pick them all up simultaneously. I quickly gave up trying to be sexy and graceful about it and started desperately grasping all the pieces in my sweaty paws, like when you try to carry a pile of laundry upstairs and you leave a trail of socks and underwear in your wake. Add strappy heels and steep carpeted stairs and it was basically a slinky red death trap. It was like trying to walk with a rabid octopus wrapped around my legs. I tripped at least seventeen times. The last time a complete stranger actually caught me in his arms and prevented me from tumbling down the stairs to my paralysis and/or mortification. Thanks, man!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let me have my Kardashian moment, please.<br />
This picture actually kind of freaks me out a little. I'm getting an Inception vibe.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCeV62BCCbIIJOxegm-O_9RP0ivKHtHhVI0jUKr997rhbqZ7WUuGHYigNhVHcr_gouUIjt32hgAYBiHZgW3W9MleuSE405DT0y9envyVSdHxozwR3I0GHNCCrn0bML4_ZRbJmRBztMGOYb/s1600/IMG_5882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCeV62BCCbIIJOxegm-O_9RP0ivKHtHhVI0jUKr997rhbqZ7WUuGHYigNhVHcr_gouUIjt32hgAYBiHZgW3W9MleuSE405DT0y9envyVSdHxozwR3I0GHNCCrn0bML4_ZRbJmRBztMGOYb/s320/IMG_5882.JPG" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alluring, yet provides ample space for my "I had a baby four years ago-bump," aka burrito belly (or, in this case, pizza-by-the-slice belly). Two essential requirements of any good dress, in my opinion.</td></tr>
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For some reason, I thought maybe once I actually saw the show, after listening to the soundtrack <i>non-stop</i> for months, that would sort of provide some closure for my obsession. The bookend, if you will. Uh, NOPE! It has only intensified my infatuation. I am halfway scheming to get back again before <a href="http://nypost.com/2016/06/02/lin-manuel-miranda-is-leaving-hamilton/" target="_blank">July 9th</a>. I actually just entered a contest to win tickets and a meet-n-greet. <i>I WILL NEVER BE SATISFIED</i>!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0V53RikBFpnoZoBsmM295xiX4e_p8YqK24Fv9VdeMrFekDBwWxVM8EjNfNKMXKpGixfbhoSorjfLrrxGbs71rSy8sbhl1-8v7esjsDlQqJvHI_LEDdkBd2KZ4y0uHgnvsR3gmcwdowlG/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0V53RikBFpnoZoBsmM295xiX4e_p8YqK24Fv9VdeMrFekDBwWxVM8EjNfNKMXKpGixfbhoSorjfLrrxGbs71rSy8sbhl1-8v7esjsDlQqJvHI_LEDdkBd2KZ4y0uHgnvsR3gmcwdowlG/s320/FullSizeRender+%25287%2529.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kinda like this.</td></tr>
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I was discussing this with a friend (my MJ ;)) and we were saying - Yes, it's amazing, but, <i>WHY soooo goooooood</i>? I wish I could put my finger on it. Is it the insanely good music? The ridiculous turntable stage and brain-busting choreography? The on-point casting? The picture perfect costumes? Seeing 8 Mile-style rap-battles on Broadway? Yes, it's all of that, but that's not all.<br />
<br />
It's not just Lin, either. I mean, the fact that he wrote the thing BOGGLES MY MIND. It physically hurts my grey matter when I try to wrap my mind around him writing biting, historically accurate raps about the founding fathers. Still, I saw <i>In the Heights. </i>It was good, and I love me some Usnavi. But it wasn't "Listen to the cast recording on repeat for 120 days"-good. It wasn't "<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/having-hamilton-tickets-is-better-than-having-a-baby_us_57164d02e4b0018f9cbb1ed3" target="_blank">Sell your first-born-child for tickets</a>"-good. It wasn't "HOLY HELL I think I'm suffering from an acute myocardial infarction"-good. You know?<br />
<br />
It <i>actually </i>felt like I was experiencing a minor medical emergency. Not like, "Call 911" or anything. More like the "Lie down, take two aspirin, and call me in the morning." I'm getting heart palpitations just thinking about it. It was basically a two-hour and forty-minute asthma attack. I was sweaty and fainty and I white-knuckled whatever of DM's body parts were within arms-reach. I was holding on for dear life. We had good seats, but I literally couldn't see straight because my eye-cups runneth over the entire time. I shouldn't have been surprised. I can't even not-cry listening to the "Stay Alive" redux for the 243rd time in the quiet of my own car. I didn't stand a chance "<i>in the room where it happens</i>." It felt like my synapses were firing in double-time. Like I was about to overload my motherboard. It was a wild ride that I didn't ever want to end.<br />
<br />
It just... took my breath away. And by that I mean, I think I literally forgot to breath for the first 3 minutes and 56 seconds. And I'm not the only one who felt that way. The whole place was electric. Incendiary. A packed house of kindling waiting to be set aflame. "<i>Ladies and gentlemen, you could've been anywhere in the world tonight, but you're here with us in New York City!" </i>It was like church, or a wedding, or any other place it's not weird to hold hands and share tissues with strangers. We were collectively mesmerized. "<i>How lucky we are to be alive right now</i>!"<br />
<br />
By the way, I was nervous that DM wasn't going to love it. I figured he'd like it well enough, but he'd mostly humoring me. I was disabused of that notion halfway through the intro song, when he leaned over and whispered, "I can already tell, this guy's going to be my favorite." Gotta love Aaron Burr. #BroMance #ManCrush. DM fell half in love with Eliza, too (<a href="http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0613" target="_blank">who wouldn't</a>). Three minutes in and he was a bona fide fan.<br />
<br />
From the first line, it felt like someone cracked open my rib cage, grabbed hold of my heart in their big meaty fist, and never let go. <i>Sweet Jesus. </i>My six-year-old buddy Miss V went to the show last month and reportedly said "I'm so excited I can't control my body!" I know EXACTLY how she feels. I had an almost overpowering physical urge to stand up and start fist-pumping at various times throughout the show. It felt like my heart was going to spontaneously combust. It didn't, thankfully :) That energy and emotion leaked through my eye-holes instead. But I sniffed and snuffled in good company.<br />
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Then, I wanted to cry because it was over!<br />
<br />
As soon as the lights came up, DM said, "Lets come back and see it again tomorrow!" Luckily (for our credit scores), there wasn't a show Monday.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, also, I was interviewed about <i>Hamilton</i> for a Japanese television show. LOL.<br />
<br />
I was going to make DM stand in the Stage Door line with me, but I had to pee SO BAD (I held it the whole time! The line for the ladies was INSANE at intermission and there was zero percent chance I was missing one second of the show. I'd just as soon pee in my Hamilton sippy cup. Anyway, by the time we got outside it was utter mayhem. Fuhgeddaboutit. (Though I found out after the fact that Lin did Stage Door and I have major FOMO.)<br />
<br />
I've daydreamed about what I <i>would </i>have said to them, though. Conducting entire imaginary conversations in the shower with people I will never meet has, heretofore, been solely my husband's gig. But things change, apparently. Honestly people, I don't even know myself anymore! I don't usually get star-struck. Celebrities don't excite me, as such. If I was sitting next to Beyonce and Jay-Z at a restaurant I'd be like, "Neato." Actually, I might ask to move to another table because God forbid Jay-Z accidentally looked in my general direction, I wouldn't want Bey to skin me alive and wear me as a bodysuit.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, if I encountered any cast member from <i>Hamilton</i>, I'd probably melt into a wheezing puddle on the sidewalk. But this is what I would like to <i>think</i> I would have said:<br />
<br />
To Leslie Odom Jr. (Aaron Burr): How many times a day do people walk up to you and say, "Are you Aaron Burr, sir?" Also? Will you be my husband's boyfriend? ;) (Is there a way to say that without sounding creepy?) Seriously though, SO GOOD dude. I've heard Lin say he thought about playing Burr instead of Hamilton. I can't imagine. I'm so glad you followed your heart to this part. You were made for it!<br />
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To Daveed Diggs (Lafayette/Jefferson): You were my fave! Purple velvet suits you. Also, I love "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yifg3RyrEso" target="_blank">Small Things to a Giant!</a>" A rap referencing Edgar Allen Poe and Beavis & Butthead? Who'd'a thunk?<br />
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To Phillipa Soo (Eliza Hamilton): You are the glue. There wouldn't be a show without you. Swoon.<br />
<br />
To Chris Jackson (George Washington): You should totally audition for the role of the 45th president of the United States! Central casting is presently fucking that shit up!<br />
<br />
To Renee Elise Goldsberry (Angelica Schuyler): Can we do a Choose Your Own Adventure version where you get the guy???<br />
<br />
To Okieriete Onaodawan (Hercules Mulligan/Madison): Can we be friends? And make a music video together where you rap all DMX-style and we walk down the street in slo-mo? Cool, thanks!<br />
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To Lin-Manuel Miranda (The One and Only Alexander Hamilton): Who am I kidding. I'd definitely say something like "<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/01/i-carried-watermelon.html" target="_blank">I carried a watermelon</a>," or "Uhhhhhh.... *Starts ugly crying and <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/09/its-like-falafel-problem-except-with.html" target="_blank">babbling incoherently</a>.*" <i>Oh am I talking too much? Sometimes I get overexcited, run off at the mouth...</i> Well, now, if I ever run into him, I can say "HI! I wrote a blog post about kidnapping you and/or becoming one of your sister wives!" That's sure to go over well :)<br />
<br />
Anywho. I can't explain how or why <i>Hamilton</i> grabs you and has its way with you and leaves you saying, "Thank you, Sir! May I have another?!" But it's "a thing." <i>It's not a moment, it's a movement</i>.<br />
<br />
The Bible says "Nor will they say 'Here it is!' or 'There it is!' for the Kingdom of God is within you." And I think that's kind of what's going on in Hamilton, too. It feels like, somehow, this super famous, twitter-trending, cultural phenomenon has something to do with you. Yes, YOU. Like, it's tapping into this shared history or some past life. "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together." The Beatles, <i>I Am The Walrus</i>. Or, if you prefer, Snoop Dogg: "He is I, and I am him, slim with the tilted brim... What's my motherfuckin' name?" ALEXANDER HAMILTON! (See what I did there??? ;))<br />
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I hope you'll forgive me the biblical reference. I'm probably being a tiny bit dramatic, but it really was like a religious experience. For me at least. (Or, so I've heard, anyway. Not ever having had an actual religious experience firsthand ;))<br />
<br />
The moral of the story is, I left my heart in Richard Rogers Theatre. (And I don't even care that they spell it the asshat way.)<br />
<br />
Mkay. I'm gonna go write the next Great American Novel now! Byeeeeee!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's all happening!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Slummin' in the city in my fancy heels." #TheSchuylerSisters. #Werk</td></tr>
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Just in case you missed me squeeing on the interwebs...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Didn't actually sing out loud (I don't think?), thank God. But the girls next to me did, quietly and reverently, so it probably would've been okay ;) </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also, my friend does this. The $10 Founding Father. It's nice to know I'm not the only one with an unhealthy Hamilton obsession! <3</td></tr>
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Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-60909942840809820752016-05-19T07:00:00.000-07:002016-05-19T07:00:04.037-07:00Becky With the Good HairSpoiler Alert: This post has nothing to do with Beyonce.<br />
<br />
Have you guys heard of this app called "Bitmoji" where you basically create an avatar of yourself and then there are tons of funny little cartoons of "you" doing and saying funny things? When a couple of my friends started using it I was like, "I don't get it." (To echo my brother, "Where are you getting those? And why? ;)) But I finally came around and it is weirdly addictive.<br />
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Aaaanyway. I basically had an existential crisis over Bitmoji. You have to choose all the elements of your person (dude I don't know what shape my face and eyes are?!?), and I didn't know what to do. The hair part in particular really stressed me out. If I could choose any type of hair in real life, I would 100% choose gloriously smooth tresses with volume and body that looked great straight out of the shower or swimming pool. But Pantene-commercial hair was not in the cards for me. I have curly hair. Well, flat on top, wavy-ish in places, curly-ish in places, with a generous patina of frizz throughout. I've spent 30 years and who knows how many thousands of dollars trying to fight what God gave me, brushing and blow drying and flat-ironing and Brazilian-formaldehyding it into sleek, smooth straightness. There were a couple years there where I used to straighten it every single day. There was a decade I never went anywhere of import without a perfectly straight hair. (<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/09/bed-feminist-good-mother-maybe.html" target="_blank">This may stem from a comment I once received about being "brave" for showing up to an interview without a blowout.</a>) I feel prettier with straight hair. I feel like my best self with straight hair. Unfortunately, I do not, in fact, have straight hair.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2S5W4K5_af-zwhLQHdRHz-yDU9rJJ84x7p_Q2Aq1yFN9qtvtXpBKu8tRY-3QNBc7q6WtY6jQ0p3jBu6-VAPYl8Pkl3Kr3-S4AP9PmuD1baje9S7T0XM_EF73v54aO1NJyTx11Cn6TiwWi/s1600/IMG_5408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2S5W4K5_af-zwhLQHdRHz-yDU9rJJ84x7p_Q2Aq1yFN9qtvtXpBKu8tRY-3QNBc7q6WtY6jQ0p3jBu6-VAPYl8Pkl3Kr3-S4AP9PmuD1baje9S7T0XM_EF73v54aO1NJyTx11Cn6TiwWi/s320/IMG_5408.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hair. Sorry about the weird orange. It was pretty hot pink once, around the last time I could show my toes in public. </td></tr>
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This friction between the hair I have and the hair I <i>wish</i> I had was never really an issue before kids. Or at least, it wouldn't have caused me an irrational amount of mental anguish in the Bitmoji app. I think if Bitmoji had existed 6 years ago, I would have picked the pretty straight hair for my avatar and called it a day, in the same way that I refuse to give myself ugly forehead wrinkles and crows feet even though I have them in real life. I mean, it's an avatar, it's not a police sketch, you know?<br />
<br />
Also, not helpful that the "curly hair" options are kinda whack. Is there really no middle ground between Pantene hair and 70's black lady afro?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8ApA9x4BosgsxedV_v1MVkzfFQ0N9ayBhXOhOQ3W7a0BuamCNO06rBddE4xogiVEgZ3AlEI-O8aACzsE6mUhJUV6o5aifE839Q-daneiRd4gN73JG-ofNOAykY1wqiJuQoxcb5h_TWgT/s1600/IMG_5411.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8ApA9x4BosgsxedV_v1MVkzfFQ0N9ayBhXOhOQ3W7a0BuamCNO06rBddE4xogiVEgZ3AlEI-O8aACzsE6mUhJUV6o5aifE839Q-daneiRd4gN73JG-ofNOAykY1wqiJuQoxcb5h_TWgT/s320/IMG_5411.PNG" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think my mom actually had this exact hair except shorter ~ 1983</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But I digress.<br />
<br />
The thing is, I don't see my curls as an essential part of my identity. I see them about the same as I view bad skin or a hairy bikini line - a problem to be conquered/whipped/bleached/waxed into submission. It's kind of like how one good friend had brown hair growing up, but has been blonde for half her life now. I still think of her as having brown hair because that is the... I don't know, "Profile Photo" I have in my mind. But she fully sees herself as blonde. Another friend of mine was actually blonde when she little (allegedly), but has had light brown hair ever since I met her (at age 18). Yet she refuses to accept any version of reality where she is anything but blonde. She still holds a grudge against her husband because when they first met (15 years ago), he went home and told his buddy he'd met this hot girl with light brown hair. [Cry-laughing emoji.]<br />
<br />
As I think I've said before, having a daughter with curly hair has really brought my curl-baggage into stark relief. My daughter has THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CURLS. And she loves them. She doesn't want anyone to cut her hair EVER because she's afraid the curls will fall out. (Also won't go to sleep at night because she's afraid of her teeth falling out, ever.) Anyway, obviously as a mother and a feminist, I want her to love herself and her hair and embrace her curls etc etc etc. But also, like, those curls are HER. They are part and parcel of her identity. I honestly cannot even imagine her without them. I feel like she would not be her without those curls. And I will NEVER EVER EVER forgive myself if one tiny little speck of my curl contempt rubs off on her.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL96uH7Wm0U0czPlCT1BBcPEbNKFG1is3926CpghpkoV-8IIyEz5yeaf91PMnTuJrCrWXF5oyORU0tCWkWIfRe7UM0nNANtYbbMaIRI44KnpU6BJJRXBRRoPPMIHbT6CSQN_DA0hOLVor_/s1600/IMG_5409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL96uH7Wm0U0czPlCT1BBcPEbNKFG1is3926CpghpkoV-8IIyEz5yeaf91PMnTuJrCrWXF5oyORU0tCWkWIfRe7UM0nNANtYbbMaIRI44KnpU6BJJRXBRRoPPMIHbT6CSQN_DA0hOLVor_/s320/IMG_5409.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colby Jean the Wainbow Unicown Qween</td></tr>
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Now I wonder if that's how my parents (namely, my mom) felt about my curls. My mom had a similar complicated relationship with her own curls, but always <i>loved </i>my hair. My curls did not rival Miss Colby Jean's, but they were pretty just the same. My grandpa always said I had the most beautiful hair he'd ever seen, and was heartbroken when I chopped it off in fourth grade. (You'd have to have known my gruff, stern grandfather to appreciate the surprising nature of the sentiment.) When I came to school missing ten inches of golden, sun-kissed waves, some of the moms gasped and said, "Did your mom cry???" (For the record, no, she didn't. She wasn't crazy about the idea of me getting a serious haircut, but she seemed relatively unfazed.) At the time I thought those moms were nuts, but now I know exactly what they meant. I'm not super emotional or nostalgic. I don't tear up at preschool "graduations" or Mother's Day singalongs, or when we ditch our kids for a weekend in New York. But I think I might legitimately shed a tear if/when Colby chops those curls.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgLDxpFeeiZdDZllbokz5JeX4_tUAgkb7MjN-c4hxh6yQeVGcNjGGck23teZ9RdNziM_Kcz6CzeDs49ZpgoPBhuRdj8HlQMYRb6iQwG73SpFYUi2YGpWdQUbhJ-5Ndr1Bprf4m1noehFo/s1600/IMG_5102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgLDxpFeeiZdDZllbokz5JeX4_tUAgkb7MjN-c4hxh6yQeVGcNjGGck23teZ9RdNziM_Kcz6CzeDs49ZpgoPBhuRdj8HlQMYRb6iQwG73SpFYUi2YGpWdQUbhJ-5Ndr1Bprf4m1noehFo/s320/IMG_5102.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mini Mack circa 1982</td></tr>
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All of this has pushed me to try to love my own curls, for her sake. And I'm doing my best, I really am. I rarely straighten my hair anymore. Not just because it takes an extra 20 minutes I don't have, but because I want to be a positive role model for my little curly girl. I frequently go out in public with curly hair, which is a big step for me. I've used myself as a human guinea pig for all of the "love your curls" lines of hair products, and found some things that sort-of, kind-of work. But I have to say, at the end of the day, it's not a love affair. I still wish I had straight hair. It's more like an arranged marriage, where you are resigned to your fate, and you decide to work together because life is easier that way, and maybe eventually you realize that, even if it isn't TRUE LURVE, you do love each other, or at least, like and respect each other a great deal.<br />
<br />
So. That's where I'm at. In an arranged marriage with my curls. And I can work with that.<br />
<br />
Lut us keep on keepin' on with the business of doing the best we can with what we have. Let us endeavor to <i>be</i> happy, healthy human beings so we can <i>raise</i> happy, healthy human beings. Let us pass on the minimum amount of mental baggage we can possibly manage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYKO4HROzfT9V48JmwAVltfpwXINU6lxPMMlN_I33PNU0pRu2uF-tTijU96ZsFnFp1e5q1c3mxCsIQuNEJNonhys7b0w3ostvMCW_KLE2KuWhE0DjvDe1ELC8SPBNrhvJ0C7yxnXLK9FZ/s1600/IMG_5410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYKO4HROzfT9V48JmwAVltfpwXINU6lxPMMlN_I33PNU0pRu2uF-tTijU96ZsFnFp1e5q1c3mxCsIQuNEJNonhys7b0w3ostvMCW_KLE2KuWhE0DjvDe1ELC8SPBNrhvJ0C7yxnXLK9FZ/s320/IMG_5410.JPG" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My compromise position (I'm sure you were dying to know).</td></tr>
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Ps, sorry (not sorry) this is not a poignant, soul-searching piece. I feel like it's been a blogger-coaster this last while. It was like, MIA, then <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/from-my-cold-dead-hands.html" target="_blank">angry ranty lady</a> (whooo boy do I mean <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/dont-be-dick.html" target="_blank">ANGRY</a>), then another <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/tater-tots-at-end-of-tunnel.html" target="_blank">hiatus</a>, then I was kinda digging deep for a minute there, talkin' 'bout <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/01/jesus-is-not-my-homeboy.html" target="_blank">jesus</a> and <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/01/jesus-is-not-my-homeboy.html" target="_blank">mommy issues</a> and whatnot, and now I'm writing about hairs. And that's about all I can muster at this juncture. May or may not write up a play-by-play after I see HAMILTON next weekend (once I stop hyperventilating). Might not. "It's a mystewy," as Colby would say.<br />
<br />
Some extra credit reading:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.missteenussr.com/blog/2015/6/27/follicle-failure" target="_blank">i'm a follicle failure</a>: miss teen ussr. "In the Hair Bible, my style is 'fire alarm.' Or 'let a drunk kid play with her hair.'"<br />
<br />
Also if you have never seen Chris Rock's documentary "Good Hair," you should check it out. Good stuff.<br />
<br />
Until next time. Whenever that may be :)Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-91536591037161811592016-05-06T07:00:00.000-07:002016-05-07T20:59:29.094-07:00True Hollywood Story: My MomColby was only two when <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/09/me-and-my-shadow.html" target="_blank">my old dog Blue passed away</a>, but she still misses that dog something fierce, and often tells complete strangers out of the blue, "My dog is dead." She approaches the untimely death of my mother with the same sensitivity and care.<br />
<br />
Colby: I love this necklace.<br />
Me: Me too.<br />
Colby: Don't ever give it away. Until you die. Then give it to me. (This is a common theme lately.)<br />
Me: Okayyyyyy.<br />
Colby: But I don't want you to die anytime soon.<br />
Me: That's good. I won't.<br />
Colby: But <i>your</i> mom is dead.<br />
Me: Yes she is.<br />
Colby: But she died in a terribow pwane cwash so dat's why she got dead before you.<br />
Me: This is true.<br />
Colby: When are we going to go on a aiwpwane again?<br />
Me: ...<br />
<br />
Much is made of The Motherless Mothers on Mother's Day, but I never really know what to say.<br />
<br />
I remember the <i>feeling</i> of my mom. I remember a million scenes and snippets. But it's kind of like catching snowflakes. Only a tiny fraction of them land in your hand, and the ones you do catch melt away before you can get a really good look.<br />
<br />
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<br />
My mom loved to read. She loved to sleep. She loved hiking and camping and backpacking and rock climbing. She ran marathons. She loved sunbathing. She loved to cook and bake and entertain. She got terrible migraines. She loved dogs. <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/07/say-what-you-mean-to-say.html" target="_blank">She did not like cats</a>. She did not like wearing clothes (but loved buying them). She had little patience for stupidity, small talk, whining, bad manners, bad grammar, disrespect, disingenuous-ness, clutter, or clatter. She didn't have much patience at all, actually. She loved flowers, and taught me you didn't need someone else to buy them for you. She loved music. She was big on soundtracks: Dirty Dancing, Stand By Me. She loved Prince and Madonna. She loved musicals - Cats and Phantom were her favorites. Is this love genetic? Or was it tattooed on my soul from a young age? Is this why I physically cannot listen to a good musical [ahem, <i>Hamilton</i>] without crying and feeling like someone is ripping my heart out from behind my rib cage? She had one actual lullaby she sang to all three of us as children, but her go-to's were The Animals (House of the Rising Sun), Harry Chapin (Dance Band on the Titanic), Lynryd Skynrd (Simple Man). Also Amazing Grace. You know, light, sweet little ditties ;)<br />
<br />
My mom had great legs. She had terrible haircuts. She was quick to laugh but brooked no bullshit. She was independent and unapologetic. She loved margaritas and anything spicy. Did I tell you about the time she made it onto The Wall of Flame at David's Thai in Auburn? The first time she went there, she tried to order 10/10 spicy and they would only give her a 5 and it was so hot she could barely eat it. In law school, I interned about half a mile away so I started to go there a few times a week, building up my tolerance. I finally got up to 9.5/10, and said to the waitress, "Yay! I'm so close to getting on the Wall of Flame!" She replied, "Oh, honey, no. We just put 1 through 10 on the menu. The Wall of Flame is about a 25." Alrighty then! Anyway, the point is, she had intestines of steel!<br />
<br />
I always saw my mom as hip and fun. I never went through a stage where I was mortified to be seen with her. She really was "a cool mom." Or maybe I was just a dork. But I basically idolized the woman. I wanted to wear matching outfits with her until I was in sixth grade when <i>she </i>told <i>me </i>I was probably getting a little too old for that.<br />
<br />
I've written a tribute or two to my mom here, the most popular of which is <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/10/mama-mama-misses-her-mama.html" target="_blank">Mama Mama Misses <i>HER </i>Mama</a>. In my continuing efforts to be "Green," I reduce, reuse and recycle the hell out of that post. Mother's Day, <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/10/seems-like-yesterday-but-not.html" target="_blank">the anniversary of their death</a>, the second Sunday after the full moon. It kind of felt like that's all there was to say about that.<br />
<br />
But a while back, a good family friend made me think twice about my memories and my lasting impressions of my mom. Admittedly, my "Mom" post is sugary sweet and written through the rosiest of rear-views. She herself would have quailed at the preciousness of it. Saccharine was not her style.<br />
<br />
After that I was committed to writing a "realer" post about my mom. Why? I don't know. To reflect the good, the bad, and the ugly, I guess? (This reminds me of a quote from Almost Famous. Russell Hammond: Just make us look cool, man. William Miller: I will quote you warmly and accurately.) But I kept coming up empty. The best I could do was ask "<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/11/revisionist-history.html" target="_blank">What is a memory, anyway</a>?" At the end of the day, my mom was a lot of things to a lot of people, as we all are.<br />
<br />
Every time I talk about her I kind of feel like I'm filling out one of those Mother's Day questionnaires the kids do now, like, what's your mom's favorite color, favorite food, favorite thing to do, etc. And I can't help but think I'm probably as wrong about her as my kids are about me. (Seriously, kids. My favorite food is <i>tofu</i>? Do you even know me at all? By the way, tofu is the favorite food of nobody, ever, in the history of the world.)<br />
<br />
The thing is, it's essentially impossible for me to view her objectively. Not just because she was my mom, and because she's been gone now half my life, but because I see so much of her in myself, and you can never see yourself straight-on. And also, yeah, she was my mom. It didn't often occur to me that she had a preexisting identity in addition to "Mom." However, if my memories of my mother are a house, having my own children was like unlocking a door to a part of the house I never knew existed. It's a whole new wing, and as I progress down the winding path of parenthood, I just keep entering new rooms and going down different hallways and it is a never-ending journey of getting to know her. Or getting to wonder about her, anyway.<br />
<br />
It's also hard for me to "get real" about my mom because, while she wasn't perfect, she was pretty much perfect to me. One of my best friends <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/06/an-ode-to-my-people.html" target="_blank">lost her mom a year ago</a> and it's hard because they had this complicated relationship, and the circumstances of her departure were less than ideal, and it's just an all-around shitty situation. It breaks my heart because <i>I</i> know that my friend and her mom were both doing the best they could and giving everything they had to give. But to have the guilt and the second-guessing and the "what ifs" and "if onlys" haunting you, <i>on top</i> of the flaming psychic trash-pile that is losing a parent? That is rough, man. I would not wish that on my worst enemy, and it is hard to see someone you love struggling with that and knowing there is nothing you can say or do to ease the pain.<br />
<br />
I consider myself #blessed that I had such a good relationship with my mom, and that she didn't die leaving unresolved issues and unanswered questions behind. I didn't resent her, I wanted to <i>be </i>her. With her shoulder-padded power suits and her matching pumps and clutches and her statement earrings, with her BMW and her speeding tickets and her pilot's license, with her attitude and her irreverence, with her wit and her intellect, with her California girl style and her <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/08/california-girl.html" target="_blank">Midwest roots</a>... She was, and remains, the gold standard (to me).<br />
<br />
Maybe it would have been different if she had lived longer. If we'd gotten into arguments about paying for college and law school, about wedding invitations and child rearing and why they're never around to watch their grand kids for free. But honestly, if you can make it through your teen years relatively unscathed, how much worse could it be?<br />
<br />
Despite being my personal Platonic ideal of Mom, she was not particularly "nice." She was thoughtful and generous. She was a good person and a good mother and a good partner and a good daughter and a good sister and a good friend. But she liked who she liked, and if she didn't like you, she didn't even try to fake it. She didn't go out of her way to befriend neighbors or the other moms at school. She was who she was and she didn't take pains to comply with anyone else's expectations.<br />
<br />
I'm not judging. I'm not that nice either. I often laugh at the fact that my two best friends are probably the most likable people on the planet, whereas I could most aptly be characterized as snarky and awkward. Or maybe just plain bitchy, depending on who you're asking. Funny, now that I think about it, her two best friends are also among the more likable souls on the planet as well. (I actually used to be a lot nicer. I don't know what happened. Like a cheap wine, I guess. I get more vinegary with age ;))<br />
<br />
Her love was fierce and strong, but she wasn't especially doting or demonstrative. Daddy Mack recently called me "zero tolerance" and "kind of harsh," particularly with respect to our kids (and my siblings,) and I think I get that from her. It's not that I don't have feelings, or big love, but I am basically allergic to drama and theatrics and, perhaps most importantly, the level of noise it entails. I think my mom had a noise thing too. At least, I inherited her "Chew with your goddamn mouth closed before I start to gag" death-stare. Also, I greatly dislike having to ask people to do things, on average, 537 times.<br />
<br />
Which begs the question(s).<br />
<br />
Mom. Inquiring minds want to know. How did you get us to listen to you??? Like, the first time? Seriously. I don't get it. I remember when I was older, you rarely said no, so when you did, I didn't argue. But I also know that I ate vegetable crudite as a "treat," and had wheat germ pancakes and pita bread sandwiches and wasn't allowed things like KoolAid or Lucky Charms or even Honey Nut Cheerios like the "cool kids." I know we didn't have a TV and we had to entertain ourselves. I know we did our own homework and school projects. I know you didn't brush my teeth or my hair or wipe my ass when I was in grade school. I packed my own lunch and did my own laundry by the time I was ten, so I KNOW there were some rules and regulations in place. You didn't hit and you didn't yell. (Sure, you raised your voice, and when we called you on it you replied, "This isn't yelling. If you want yelling, I can <i>show </i>you yelling!" You didn't morph into a shrill, nagging <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/04/sht-my-kids-say-vol-5.html" target="_blank">pygmy shrew</a>. I remember you told me that when <i>your </i>parents told you no, you saw that as the opening salvo to negotiations, and you swore that would never be you. But what I need to know now is HOW, sage master of child rearing??? This is coming from someone who was recently accused by her husband as being a dictator trying to run a totalitarian regime.<br />
<br />
ALSO, HOW DID YOU RAISE KIDS BEFORE THE INTERNET?<br />
<br />
How did you have babies without an epidural?<br />
<br />
Tell me about breastfeeding. Lord knows <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/03/to-boob-or-not-to-boob-that-is-none-of.html" target="_blank">my personal journey</a> was a roller coaster.<br />
<br />
How did you get us to daycare at 7am? And yourself to work on time. With clothes on and everything?<br />
<br />
How did you feed us real food every single day???<br />
<br />
Did the sound of us crying and fighting make you want to stab yourself in the eardrums?<br />
<br />
Did you ever <i>want </i>to spank us? Okay, that's a stupid question, I know the answer to that. I guess the question is, why didn't you?<br />
<br />
Why did you explain the birds and the bees to me when I was 3 years old? (Or, in this case, "the wenis and the china.") I can't bring myself to do it yet. So far I've gotten by with a lot of hand-waving, improper anatomical references, and a vague allusion to mystical wizardry of some sort.<br />
<br />
Why did you divorce dad? Wait. Back up. Why did you <i>marry </i>dad? Wait, back up even farther, why did you marry that one dude when you were 18? When/why/how did you get divorced? When did you come to California, and with whom? What was going through your mind when Dad knocked you up? Why did you marry him? (I actually did ask you this, once. Your response: Have you ever seen a picture of him with his shirt off circa 1979? Hubba hubba! ;))<br />
<br />
Then, why did you divorce him? What was the straw that broke the camel's back? How did you manage that scary decision with two little kids and an uncertain future in front of you? Was it because you sorta kinda already knew where (and with whom) you were going to land?<br />
<br />
Did you ever think about moving back to Michigan?<br />
<br />
I remember a fight you had with Stepdad. He wanted a child. His own. You thought you were done making babies. Obviously you made the right call, but how did you get there?<br />
<br />
And speaking of fights with Stepdad, I literally remember two. I mean, you guys argued about silly things plenty, but I only remember two actual fights. Were there more that we weren't privy to? How do you fight in a house full of kids?<br />
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More importantly, how do you make up?! I don't understand when and where you're supposed to have sex once your kids are old enough to know what's going on!<br />
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Did Stepdad snore? If yes, did you have to fight the urge to smother him with a pillow?<br />
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HOW DID YOU KEEP UP WITH LAUNDRY ALL THE TIME??? (Oh! Wait! See paragraph 73, above, re: us doing our own laundry by the time we were 10. I have this perception of our house always being clean and the dishes and laundry being (mostly) done, but last year I saw a picture and in the background was a couch stacked with folded laundry and it made me SO HAPPY! I was like, OMG, Mom! You too??? :))<br />
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Did you ever feel like you just couldn't do it a single second more?<br />
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Did you ever feel legitimate concern that you might be losing your ever loving mind?<br />
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Why did you send us to private elementary school? But then encourage public high school? This particular issue is weighing on me now as we navigate that process with our own kids. It feels like the decisions we make now will forever alter their course in life. It's scary as hell.<br />
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<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/09/can-you-die-of-retroactive-mortification.html" target="_blank">I was kind of a douche in high school</a>. I remember Stepdad saying as much, and you telling him to cut me some slack. For someone who didn't put up with a lot of bullshit, you really tapped into a deep reservoir of patience, indulgence, and grace for those few years. I would love to hear your take.<br />
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I have one kid that I kind of just "get." She is basically a miniature me. That understanding and identification makes the day to day interactions easier and more intuitive. This is not to say she's not an asshole. She totally is. Big brother is, by all accounts, a more pleasant child (at least presently). My love for him is no less strong or pure, but I sometimes feel like I am trying to communicate that love in a different language. Did this happen to you? How do you navigate these different relationships while still conveying the fact that you love them both so much you feel like you might die?<br />
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On the nights you worked late, did you come watch us sleep before you went to bed?<br />
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Did you cry when we weren't watching? Over 18 years, I only saw you cry a few times. Once when you thought you and Stepdad were going to break up. Once when you had (another) fight with little sister and she called Dad to come get her (again). And once when your grandpa died. Oh yeah and that time you were rushed to the hospital for an ectopic pregnancy, but that was different, and scary.<br />
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I do kind of remember this period where you were in a "funk." I guess I was so self-absorbed, and depression was such a nebulous and unknown concept to me, it barely even registered. How did you work through? And continue to handle your life? Did you act stronger than you felt? Is it our job to appear strong to our children? Or to be real? Or some combination of the two?<br />
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You really seemed to maintain your identity as something other than "Mom" even after you had three kids. This was probably my only conscious complaint as a teen, actually. That you weren't very Mom-y." (You even asked me not to call you "Mommy" when I was little because the word was "too cute.") Our homecoming dances always coincided with your birthday, and while other parents had us over to pin on corsages and boutonnieres and take eleventy billion pictures, you were out drinking margaritas with your friends. Did you feel guilty at all? If not, did it ever occur to you that you "should?" If yes, what pep talk did you give yourself to get over it?<br />
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Same goes for "working mom" guilt? This is probably my biggest psychological stumbling block. Could you help me sand it down?<br />
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What would you have told me about motherhood if you knew you weren't going to be here to tell me yourself?<br />
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Phew, okay! I could probably write a whole book, but this oughtta do it for today!<br />
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Do <i>you </i>(not the ghost of my mother but people who are reading this with their actual eyeballs) still have your moms around? What would you ask her if you knew she wasn't going to be around tomorrow to tell you? Think about it.<br />
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Gee, this is a super uplifting post: You better have a deep heart to heart with your mom about the meaning of life because she might die tomorrow. Whee! Happy Mother's Day!<br />
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You still here? ;) I'll end on a note of gratitude.<br />
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Mom. Thank you for instilling in me a love of music and mischief and spicy things. For leaving a <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/11/kissin-wears-out.html" target="_blank">cook book</a> full of delicious dishes for me to ruin, as well as the recipe for Wet Woodys and the perfect margarita. For teaching me how to travel without looking like a tourist. For (attempting to) weed out my whineyness and wimpyness. For demonstrating integrity and strength of character while letting us know we all have chinks in our chain. For loving the Stepdadders and bringing them into our lives. For showing me <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/09/tang.html" target="_blank">true love</a> is an actual thing, and it looks different than depicted by Disney. For working with Dad at making divorce not suck (for us). For giving me the two best siblings a big sister could ever ask to boss around. For bestowing upon me a sense of adventure and a love and awe of nature. For showing me that respect is earned not given. That strangers who call you sweetie, sugar, or say "You'd be a lot prettier if you'd just smile" can suck it. That you don't have to be "nice," but you <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/dont-be-dick.html" target="_blank">shouldn't be a dick</a>, either. That good manners, good grammar, eye contact, and a killer pair of heels will take you far. That being tall and smart and strong are things to be proud of. Thank you for being a kick-ass, independent woman who got shit done, so that I grew up knowing I could be one, too. Thank you.<br />
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Okay. You guys. Is this even written in English? I have been on this crazy diet for two weeks and I am so hungry I think my body is starting to digest my brain for fuel. I honestly feel like I'm drunk/high/hungover all at the same time even though I am none of those things. Like the thoughts in my brain are hardening in cement. My apologies if I just had verbal diarrhea all over you, but really, what could be more fitting for Mother's Day?! ;)<br />
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<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-12183997572888045062016-04-28T07:00:00.000-07:002016-04-29T14:45:16.775-07:00Little Miss Sh*t for BrainsThis is not the first time I've had <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/07/purse-of-sht-expanded-version-or-our.html" target="_blank">dog shit in my purse</a>. (See also, <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/02/the-shit-show-part-i.html" target="_blank">The Shit Show, Part I</a>, <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/02/the-shit-show-part-deux.html" target="_blank">Deux</a>, and <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/02/the-shit-show-part-twah.html" target="_blank">Tres</a>). Probably won't be the last, either, if I'm being honest with myself.<br />
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Sometimes I allow my mind to visit this pretty little
imaginary place where my morning goes smoothly and everyone gets to their final
destinations in a timely manner and I make it through the day without having to
come into contact with anyone else’s literal or figurative shit. Inevitably
something comes crashing down on this sweet little pipe dream. For example, a
tree.<br />
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Or, as was the case this day, actual shit. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The night before was basically consistent with what I’ve come to
expect from life. DM and I were exhausted so we went to bed early so we could
get a full night’s sleep for once in our lives. Hahaha. Hilarious, right?
Naturally, we were awoken at 2am by the unmistakable sound of a dog about to
barf. Now, little Nacho is kind of a puker so I wasn’t too worried at first.
But around the 8th time we started to get concerned. <o:p></o:p></div>
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DM informs me that the dogs had actually eaten a little bit
of this scrubber sponge. Normally I would assume this was less of a
big deal than the Advil she ate last month, or the grapes, legos, beads, ant bait,
rocks, shoes, pencils, markers, bouncy balls, and sharp sticks she and her big sister Feta
have consumed in their short lives, but the repeated retching didn’t seem right.
(Also, we were on high alert because for the first 12 hours after “The Advil
Incident,” we (idiotically) thought, "Eh, I’m sure she’ll be fine, it was just
a couple, and she pukes on the regular so it’s probably not that big a deal." Turns out it is a very big, very expensive deal.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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Is there a CPS for dogs? Please don’t call them. I swear we
take mostly great care of our animals. I already read plenty of scolding comments on the internet about how you have to be EXTREMELY CAREFUL and NEVER
EVER LET THEM OUT OF YOUR SIGHT FOR EVEN ONE TINY SECOND. Unfortunately, I cannot even maintain that
standard of oversight for my human children, so… sorry dogs. Plus Nacho is a
super sneaky little honey badger who steals things from the kids when we aren’t
looking and secrets them away in the corner of the yard to consume at her
leisure. She’s like a furry hoarding magpie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, my helpful husband took Nacho to the vet at 3am.
They gave her all manner of medicines, including what appears to have been a
laxative. Told us to keep a close eye on her so I planned to bring her to the
office with me. She’s pretty chill so no big deal. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We get a couple hours more sleep. Woke up and started my
morning with a familiar refrain: “What is that <i>smell</i>?!?” I wasn’t able to place it. There weren’t any obvious
piles of poop or vomit that I could see. We go about our harried routine. As
we’re headed out the door I scoop up the little dog and suddenly discover the
source of the smell. The poor thing had shat herself and her furry backside was
covered in poop soup. One shitty sitz bath, one butt-trim, and two
wardrobe changes (for me) later, I not-so-stealthily sneak her into the office with me. As it turns out, this was ill-advised. </div>
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First of all, what do you do when you have to pee while you're in the middle of a covert office dog operation? In the past, I just held it all day because I was afraid she'd bark and out me. This time I was worried about barking AND pooping/puking. But, conveniently, I had a UTI, so holding it was not an option. So the first time, I brought her in the bathroom with me. If you have never peed with a dog on your lap, well, you have not really lived. The second time I devised a temporary dog tote :)</div>
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Someone came into my office and said it smelled like wet dog. Which made sense because there was a wet dog in it. But eau de wet dog is infinitely preferable to the smell of projectile liquid dog doo, which was part two of my sickly-office-dog-adventure. I quickly spirited her back to my car and home again, leaving a foul trail of poop particles in our wake. (Have I talked about <a href="http://health.howstuffworks.com/human-body/systems/digestive/smell-poop-inhaling-poop-molecules.htm" target="_blank">poop particles</a> before? It's a pet subject of mine. One of my cousins just had her PhD thesis about "<a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-36150503" target="_blank">the semantic maps that tile the human cerebral cortex</a>" published on <a href="http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v532/n7600/full/nature17637.html" target="_blank">the cover of Nature magazine</a>. Me? I like to write infrequent potty-mouthed blogs on poop and preschool. Must be a genetic thing. ;))</div>
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Anyway. We thought Nacho was better but then there was more puking and bloody projectile poop two days later, so back to the vet. Then back to the vet again with a fecal sample, hence the purse-o-shit. Wheeee! This dog has seriously been to the vet 8 times in the past 2 months. When we left this time, they said, "Nacho, here's the deal, we don't want to see you back here for AT LEAST 7 days!" She is the most expensive free dog EVER. A friend suggested we let evolution take over at this point, but Colby loves that dog more than anything on earth and would be devastated. Also, she's really cute when not covered in poop. (The dog. Also the kid.)</div>
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Then Tuesday The Boy had to go under for dental surgery, so, naturally, the girl woke up at 3am with the barfs, arms outstretched with two generous handfuls of puke. Jesus loves me.<br />
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At least the dentist gave us some new toothbrushes. I think this will really help Colby gain some closure after I threw away her old toothbrush the other day, which she wanted to keep "for decoration" (obviously). (I'll have you know I actually fished it out of the <i>kids' bathroom garbage can</i> which is a category 5 biohazard zone. But, of course, it was already RUINED.)</div>
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Sometimes I get super annoyed that I get passed over for promotions at work and then I'm like, oh, yeah, I've had to call into work three times in the past ten days covered in bodily fluids that are not mine. (And then I think, No. Fuck that. I bust my ass, early in the morning, late at night, on the weekend, whatever I need to do to get shit done, WHILE COVERED IN PUKE AND/OR EXCREMENT! Beat that, single childless 27 year old male associate! But more on that another day ;))</div>
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Incidentally, this isn't my first experience with bleeding Pomeranian buttholes. My "avatar" of Jack and Blue in diapers was from a charming little adventure where my husband was out partying overnight ON OUR ANNIVERSARY (with my blessing, an old friend was in town). But seriously, every time he leaves, shit hits the fan. In this case, literally. On this occasion, he fed the dog a cooked pork bone before he left, which basically splintered in her digestive tract and had the effect on the back end that you would imagine. Thank goodness my BFF Claire was able to come sit with sleeping baby while I took Blue to the emergency vet. Good times, good times.</div>
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So yeah. Then, last night, just to keep things interesting, Nacho tried to eat a printer cartridge. Thank the good lord she only ended up with blue paws and not colorful and explosive diarrhea. </div>
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NEVER A DULL MOMENT, FAM. </div>
Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-2220471489501993232016-04-14T07:00:00.000-07:002016-04-29T11:29:08.355-07:00you're the worst mom EVER, I love you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Some days I wake up and it feels like Monday, even when it isn't. But some days I wake up and think, "Today is a new day!" This feeling usually dissipates around the 73rd time I tell the children to brush their ever loving teeth, but that glimmer of hope, or possibly it's just insanity (doing the same thing, expecting different results) - it feels nice.</div>
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Same thing with evenings. Sometimes, after a rough day, I drive home dreading the drudgery of dinner and bath and bedtime before it even begins. It's like a really maddening and mundane version of Groundhog Day. But sometimes I walk in the door and I feel refreshed and energized. I think, "It's only 3 hours. I got this. How bad can it be?" (LOLOL.)<br />
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The point is, 82% of the time, even when I start with the best intentions, an hour in I'm pretty much ready to impale myself on any vaguely sharp object within a ten foot radius.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-UY6vif6eU3Ds8HsHioBgq0jF6_zCvZvyL6n4x0CMSYb-38eLOOeLnoR7FwkH1ybuiIfsPUKqO02HahqKeENl0RNYpLoHKRsri8DrvKwr1EqpJqhPWMG0OSKkIjRnsq8Klacto7psb6G/s1600/mary+poppins+batman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-UY6vif6eU3Ds8HsHioBgq0jF6_zCvZvyL6n4x0CMSYb-38eLOOeLnoR7FwkH1ybuiIfsPUKqO02HahqKeENl0RNYpLoHKRsri8DrvKwr1EqpJqhPWMG0OSKkIjRnsq8Klacto7psb6G/s1600/mary+poppins+batman.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">[15 minutes later]</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">*Darth Vader Voice*</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">GET IN THE GODFORSAKEN CAR OR I WILL PERSONALLY ESCORT YOU TO THE DARK SIDE!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Credit: <a href="http://suburbanmisfitmom.com/writer/lurkathomemom/" target="_blank">@lurkathomemom</a></span></td></tr>
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It's nice having a helpful partner, and I thank my non-denominational god-substitute basically every day that I am so lucky in that respect. Usually, for whatever reason, when one of us is at the end of their rope, the other has enough reserves in their tank to step in and take over in order to prevent imminent injury to life, limb, and sanity. Hats off to anyone who does this solo and doesn't lose their goddamn mind. I salute you.<br />
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This parenting gig is really freakin' hard, no matter which way you slice it. There's not enough grace, patience, hands, or hours in the day to do this job the way we imagined doing it in our minds, before we actually had kids. I don't know about you guys, but some days, it sucks the life right outta me. By the end of the night I feel like a tattered, drool-soaked chew toy that my dogs divested of its stuffing.<br />
<br />
Then I think about where that life-blood is being siphoned off to - it's raising humans! And I feel a little bit better. Then I get back down to the actual nitty-gritty-shitty of raising said humans and I feel worse again. A friend posted a link the other day - <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ijeoma-oluo/parenting-advice-dont-kill-them_b_6812908.html" target="_blank">Parenting Advice: Don't Kill Them</a>. The author writes, "I JUST WANT TO LOVE YOU WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO DESTROY ME?!" The struggle is real.<br />
<br />
A good friend of mine who doesn't have kids sometimes says, "I just don't understand why SO MANY PEOPLE do it?! Like, almost everyone! It seems kind of awful! Why do you people keep doing this to yourselves, on purpose?!" As I say, it's <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/09/the-biggest-mistake-you-will-never.html" target="_blank">the biggest mistake you will never regret</a>. :)<br />
<br />
DM and I frequently stress about all the ways we're falling short as parents. He and I had different upbringings, experiences, and expectations. But we're generally in agreement on what an "ideal" lifestyle would look like for our family, and we're not quite there yet.<br />
<br />
DM's dad worked long hours as a doctor while his mom stayed home and took care of the kids. He had a plethora of cousins and aunties. He was picked up after school every day, and though she certainly had her hands full, his mom was around to make sure the kids were fed and homework was done. But as first generation immigrants and "new money" in an old money world, there were certain cultural and community cues that went under the radar, e.g. playing on the "right" sports teams, going to the best sleepaway camps, wearing the "cool" clothes, etc. It's funny, the things that leave scars so many years later.<br />
<br />
My mom and dad were divorced, my mom <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/06/holy-crap-this-really-is-four-diamond.html" target="_blank">remarried(ish)</a>, and all three of my parents worked full time. Us kids were in daycare from 6am to 6pm daily, and attended terrible summer camps until I was 12 and they decided I was old enough to stay home with my little brother and sister. (And by "stay home" I mean I actually held summer school for my siblings. I made them journal and do homework and everything. LOL. Sorry guys.) This one camp (that billed itself as an equestrian camp but didn't have any horses?) basically used the older kids (including me) as free labor to take care of the younger kids. W.T.F. My parents were never around to be room parents or chaperone field trips or help us with our homework or build <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/03/how-to-catch-gd-leprechaun.html" target="_blank">leprechaun traps</a> or come to cross-country meets or soccer games. However they did manage to feed us home-cooked meals every night, and didn't have a TV to use as a babysitter, which kind of boggles my mind. Gold medals all around!<br />
<br />
The life DM and I are giving our children, for better or for worse, is more like my childhood than his. Poor Colby and Jack are usually the last ones to get picked up every day. I'm currently wrangling the unruly beast that is the YMCA Summer Camp Matrix (it's a thing) because what in the hell else are you supposed to do for those ten weeks between June and August?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Seriously, what is going on here? Nobody told me I'd need advanced degrees in engineering and mathematics to plan my kids' summer schedules.</span></td></tr>
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The rational side of me knows that I had a similar upbringing and I turned out pretty alright. Yeah, I hated summer camps and after school care. I wished my parents could have attended my games and class parties and field trips. But I never felt like "someone else was raising me," and I never, ever doubted their love. When my brain's in charge, I think to myself, my kids are pretty damn lucky and they are going to be <i>just fine</i>.<br />
<br />
But when my heart's calling the shots, I feel like a dick. I spend five or six waking hours a day with my kids, max. And 73% of it is telling them to hurry the hell up. Yes, as I've said before, I would love to be <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/07/hurry-up-and-wait.html" target="_blank">super chill Zen mom</a>, turning each argument into a teaching moment, stopping to smell the roses along the way. And I do what I can when I can. But there are only so many hours in the day. We can barely get the kids to school and ourselves to work on time in the mornings, and on the flip side, every single evening is a grind: rushing to pick them up on time, dinner (like an eating contest, except the slowest one "wins"), bath, show, stories, and the "<a href="http://fallontonight.tumblr.com/post/89748813077/londonvnewyork-i-love-jerry-seinfeld-so-funny" target="_blank">royal coronation jubilee</a>" that is bedtime. We have been spared much homework thus far and THANK GOD because I honestly have no clue how in the world we're going to fit that into the mix.<br />
<br />
I'm so wrung out from this groundhog day grind that it takes some serious (mental and physical) acrobatics to be the best mom I can be, to gird my loins for the endless stream of BS from the fruit of my loins. I <i>know </i>that when I have the energy and the wherewithal to use "positive reinforcement" and "redirection" and "love languages," when I wake up an hour earlier so I have time to prevent breakfast and tooth-brushing battles from becoming flat-out wars, when I pack lunches and backpacks <i>the night before</i> instead of frantically running around the morning of, everyone ends up happier. But the chasm between <i>knowing</i> this, and <i>doing</i> this, is deep and wide. Sometimes, I'm able to make the leap. Sometimes, I'm not.<br />
<br />
More than anything, I am blown away by the fact that most people go through these exact same machinations, or worse, day in, day out, and the entire population isn't just walking around sobbing or stabbing people with scissors or sleeping under their desks every single day.<br />
<br />
And don't get me wrong. I <i>want </i>to work. I sort of cherish arriving on Monday mornings. Settling into my comfy chair in my quiet office to drink <i>an entire cup</i> of <i>hot </i>coffee <i>uninterupted </i>is a little like heaven. And DM and I both are pretty freakin' lucky on the work schedule front, for lawyers, anyway. Still, I'd like to work less. Or, get paid more, so I could afford to give someone else money to raise my kids (and cook and clean) for me ;)<br />
<br />
I'm well aware these are #firstworld problems. See, e.g., <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/02/the-scale-of-suck.html" target="_blank">The Scale of Suck</a>. A blogger friend of mine put it really well in a great recent post: "<a href="http://thejugglestruggle.net/2016/03/07/ducking-doomdarts-the-imperfect-art-of-embracing-joyful-moments/" target="_blank">In the Colosseum of troubles, I know that I face lions that some people pray for...</a>" Understood. But still. Lions are scary.<br />
<br />
I don't really have a point, I don't think. Just a little insight into the conflicted ramblings in my jumbly brain: "You're a pretty good mom, give yourself a break! You're blowing it, pull your shit together! Work harder, get promoted, make more money, so you can go more places and do more things! Work less, (find someone to pay your bills?) do less things, BE THERE more! You survived, they're going to be just fine! I hope you're saving for therapy, they're going to need it! They're such good kids, we must be doing something right! OMG, we broke them, where did we go wrong?!?"<br />
<br />
The other day we were running late (okay we're running late every day, but this day we were running extra late). Jack said "What will happen if you're late for work?" I replied, "Well, if I'm late <i>too </i>many times I would probably lose my job." Colby said "I wish you WOULD lose your job. That way we could all stay home together all the time." Knife. in. the. heart. I said, "Well if I didn't have a job then we couldn't afford to have a home to stay home in!" She said, "Would we have <i>no </i>house? Or just a littow house?" I responded, "A little house, probably. Or maybe an apartment." Colby: "Could we still have a pool?" Me: "Definitely no pool." Colby: "Okay then maybe you can keep your job." ;) Thanks for the cosign, kid.<br />
<br />
Anyway, as I imagine my mom would say, "You're overthinking this <i>just a little</i>." What I try to remind myself, at the end of the day, is that I'm doing the best that I can, I'm giving everything I have to give, and that has to be enough. That IS enough.<br />
<br />
The other morning, Colby was possessed by the devil. She refused to dress herself or let herself be dressed or allow anyone to speak or breathe. She started screaming like a bloody banshee and pinwheeling her arms and legs and then melted into an angry puddle of preschooler on the floor. Again, maybe if we'd had the time and the energy to calmly reason with this vicious imp, we could have solved things more amicably. And/or called in an exorcist. But in real life, DM and I both had meetings, attendance mandatory, and we needed to GTFO of there. So we basically had to tag-team the child and dress her spastic noodly limbs against her will. This was maybe the maddest she's ever been. But not sixty seconds later she latches on to me like a koala, looks up at me with her big round brown eyes, and says, "Mama, I need a snuggle."<br />
<br />
Same thing happens with Jack all the time. He is SO sensitive and emotional, depending on which way the wind blows, the littlest things can turn into World War III. I actually got "I HATE YOU!" for the first time the other day. It was jarring and heartbreaking and a tiny bit funny, too. But in the midst of that fury, I ask "Do you think you need a hug?" And his answer is, always, "Yeah, maybe." <3<br />
<br />
Anyway, whatever else we're building here, the foundation is love. (Well, love, glitter glue, and goldfish crumbs.) And one thing I can be proud of is that my children know it and feel it too. (The love and the crumbs.)<br />
<br />
OMG you guys. I am literally incapable of writing a short blog post. This was just supposed to be a "quick" one. Whoops. The other night I was complaining to DM that the book I was reading was "aggressively wordy" and he said "Sounds like it's right up your alley." ;)<br />
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<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-59073529680198193722016-04-08T07:00:00.000-07:002016-04-14T09:56:38.309-07:00How to Not Raise A-Holes in 33 Easy StepsWe went on "vacation" in Tahoe last week, which <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/09/tang.html" target="_blank">holds a special place in my heart</a>. We drove from San Diego, which, according to Google Maps, is really fucking far. The kids were actually shockingly good. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the nuclear meltdown, for the karmic retribution of an uneventful 600 mile drive with a four- and a five- year old, and it just... never happened. [Insert "Hallelujah, Thank you Jesus" Hands here.] We didn't even have to bust out the iPads in the car, which is something we always SWORE we would never do, but, it turns out, we would totally do. I daresay this trip actually, almost, felt like a real vacation!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Daddy Mack</td></tr>
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The thing is, this pain-free experience has little to do with my offspring being inherently good children, and mostly to do with the fact that my husband and I go to absurd lengths to assure that the kids' every waking - and sleeping - need is attended to. And to be honest, this isn't even because I love my kids so much that I never ever want them to be unhappy. I mean, I do love them so much but it's mostly because I love MYSELF and I don't want ME to be unhappy, and small children losing their shit in confined spaces with no escape route on the horizon makes me stabby.<br />
<br />
Seriously though. Every minute of every day, every eventuality is anticipated and planned for. We have the right pillow and the right blanket and the right lovey and the right PJs and an engaging array of books and art supplies and white noise and night lights and, and, and... It's just crazy. And again, we (mostly I) have created these monsters because I prefer contented silence to the shrieking of rabid banshees. But carried to its natural conclusion, we're gonna have a couple of <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2014/10/vacation-or-broken-bikes-black-eyes.html" target="_blank">spoiled little bratwursts</a> on our hands. "A COUPLE IS TWO," as Colby reminds me <i>several </i>times a day. "SEVAWAL IS FWEE OR MORE."<br />
<br />
I feel like the tide has been turning for <strike>a couple</strike> several generations, with each new crop of parents wanting to do more and more for their children. And yes, it's partly selfish, but I think it also stems from a very human desire to see our children do better than us, to give them things our parents didn't give, etc. Not to mention mitigating working-parent guilt. At least, I think it's a sea change. I <i>hope </i>I'm not the only coddling, over-indulgent parent raising entitled, yeller-bellied little a-holes....am I? Beuller? Beuller? ;)<br />
<br />
The Tahoe trip really brought this internal struggle into stark relief. Right as you walk into the cabin, there's a framed photo of Stepdad with his mom, dad, and brothers BUILDING this freaking cabin from the ground up.<br />
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Meanwhile, I, literally, do not know how to work a DVD player, and my kids, apparently, are incapable of brushing their own teeth or dressing themselves or sleeping without the soothing sound of ocean waves caressing their sweet little seashell ears. These people could navigate Desolation Wilderness like the back of their hand, while I immediately get lost when I lose sight of the Pacific. The Stepdadders could build a fire in the snow and my kids thought this was a television:<br />
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I could draw contrasts all day.<br />
<br />
When and why and how did we become such a soft species? We eat food we didn't grow or catch, we live in homes we didn't build (I can barely manage to assemble IKEA furniture!), we drive vehicles we have no idea how to repair, we rely on electronics and software that baffle even the FBI. We can, officially, live our lives without ever leaving our homes. And I will be the first person to admit that I find this, mostly, glorious. But at what cost?<br />
<br />
Our children are a product of our vulnerable reliance on niche, and diminishing, skill sets. I came away from the trip with this itching need to learn and do real things. DM and I were discussing this whole notion one night (in a hot tub, in the snow!) He said, "I mean, I could probably build a cabin, if I had the time, I just don't understand how they did it before Google and YouTube!" I rolled my eyes. He recently installed his own car stereo and it is the crowning achievement of his life. I think it went to his head. He replied, "Well, maybe I'll start with a shed."<br />
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We were laughing about this again last weekend as we drilled NINE HOLES into the wall before we finally succeeded in hanging my new jewelry armoire. Around the fourth try I said, "Ready to build a cabin next?" Ha!<br />
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I clearly contribute to our impotence as a family. I would always rather pay a professional to do it than have DM or myself attempt it, screw it up, and <i>then </i>have to call in the experts. But maybe we need to leave a little room to make mistakes. How else are we supposed to learn? A little discomfort is good, sometimes, right? It means we're learning and growing. No pain, no gain.<br />
<br />
We went out to dinner this one night in Tahoe. Now, normally, I carry enough art supplies to outfit an entire kindergarten class in my mom-purse, but naturally, the one time I show up empty-handed, the restaurant has nary a broken crayon or dried-out marker to be seen. DM and I looked at each other like, SHIT. It didn't help that Jack was particularly tetchy and was on a hair trigger. Now, back in <i>my </i>day, after walking through 6 feet of snow uphill both ways, if I or one of my siblings pitched a fit at a restaurant, we'd leave, or be taken out to the car. We traveled up and down the coast in the covered bed of a truck, no iPads, or seatbelts! My parents couldn't have heard us even if we had cried! But what did <i>I </i>do in the face of parental adversity? I made a CVS run for emergency STFU supplies. Even while I was doing it I was thinking to myself, this is ridiculous. I did it anyway. And we had an uneventful dining experience. But this whole thing has filled me with a new resolve:<br />
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Short term pain for long term gain. Yes, taking away screen time hurts me more than it hurts you. But you're being a <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/04/sht-my-kids-say-vol-5.html" target="_blank">pygmy shrew</a> and this shit is not going to fly. No more Mr. Nice Guy! Have you ever noticed that you usually only get called a "Mean Mom" when you're giving a particularly solid showing of mom-awesomeness?<br />
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Anyway. Thanks for tuning in for another random assemblage of thoughts tumbling out of my brain. On a not-really-that-related not, a friend posted this really interesting survey the other day, about how insulated you are from the real world. (<a href="http://www.pbs.org/newshour/making-sense/do-you-live-in-a-bubble-a-quiz-2/" target="_blank">PBS: Do you live in a bubble?</a> I got a 48, by the way.) It really got me thinking, about the cost of living life in our little fortresses built from Amazon Prime boxes, and made me want to get out more, learn, challenge myself, do "real things," for my kids' sake and my own. Mostly for theirs because there's still hope for them :)<br />
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Here's my working list of things I want my kids to do before they graduate college. Alternate title: How to not raise assholes in 33 easy steps.<br />
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1. Learn another language.<br />
2. Live in another country.<br />
3. Work through college, including at least one year in food service or retail.<br />
4. Play team sports.<br />
5. Travel alone.<br />
6. Eat at a restaurant alone, with a book instead of a phone. (At Applebee's, apparently ;))<br />
7. Have roommates.<br />
8. Learn how things work, something, anything.<br />
9. Learn to change a flat tire.<br />
10. Learn how to change your battery.<br />
11. Learn how to do laundry.<br />
12. Know how to make a few meals that won't cause acute gastrointestinal distress.<br />
13. Build IKEA furniture with a friend (and remain friends).<br />
14. Build something <i>other than </i>IKEA furniture.<br />
15. Travel somewhere you can't reach by plane, train, or automobile.<br />
16. If you eat meat - catch, kill, and eat an animal. But not a cute one, or I will cry. Preferably a fish or a bird or something.<br />
17. Keep a journal. And lock it so your little sister/big brother doesn't read it.<br />
18. Get a library card, and use it. Read books, lots of them.<br />
19. Get involved with a local cause or organization that means something to you.<br />
20. Go to a drive-in movie (do those even exist anymore?) BUT DO NOT HAVE THE SEX. Or, do. But for the right reasons. And use protection. Okay nevermind we'll talk more about this later.<br />
21. Mow the lawn.<br />
22. Keep a house plant alive (still working on this one, personally).<br />
23. Plan a surprise party.<br />
24. Volunteer for reasons other than your college applications or resume.<br />
25. Learn how the government works.<br />
26. Learn how credit cards (and debt, in general), work. Learn to budget.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This made me laugh. <br />
<a href="http://www.funnyjunk.com/The+important+things/funny-pictures/5512304/" target="_blank">Source.</a></td></tr>
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27. Do nice things for people who will never know.<br />
28. Keep up the dance parties in your PJs.<br />
29. Write notes and letters - on real, actual paper (or whatever replaces paper once we use up all the trees).<br />
30. Talk less, smile more :)<br />
31. Keep learning new things. Challenge yourself. Do things that are difficult, uncomfortable, even a little bit scary.<br />
32. Surround yourself with people who make you feel better about yourself, and be that person to others. Give people the benefit of the doubt, including yourself.<br />
33. <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/12/dont-be-dick.html" target="_blank">Don't be a dick.</a><br />
<br />
What would you add???<br />
<br />
This post from Renegade Mothering is so good and on point:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.renegademothering.com/2016/03/28/raise-excellent-toddler/" target="_blank">How to raise an excellent toddler.</a><br />
<br />
And this post! "<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rhonda-stephens/are-todays-parents-getting-a-raw-deal_b_9645450.html" target="_blank">Are Today's Parents Getting a Raw Deal?</a>" The whole time I was reading it I was nodding vigorously in agreement. This is what I was TRYING to say above, but better!Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-26903076441058537682016-04-01T07:00:00.000-07:002016-04-05T16:21:01.390-07:00Sh*t My Kids Say, Vol. 5Friends, I'm going to be so sad when my kids stop being unintentionally hilarious!!! I can already kind of see it happening a little. I know I'm probably supposed to correct them and stuff but honestly, when my daughter stops saying "stampled" instead of "stapled," I will cry.<br />
<br />
The fifth installment:<br />
<br />
C: "Awwwww, I willy <i>willy </i>wish I could have a tiny baby unicowin, but Mama's allergic." Um, whut?<br />
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<br />
J: "This is a fwendship wing. It shoots fwendship into your soul." I need one of those!<br />
<br />
I am one hundred years tall.<br />
<br />
My feet weigh 37.8 pounds.<br />
<br />
Tortilla = Torta-tilla.<br />
<br />
Taxi = Shark Car (because of the 'fin' on top).<br />
<br />
Chamomile tea = Camel tea.<br />
<br />
Ghost Busters = Ghost mustard.<br />
<br />
Feliz Navidad = Police Navidad.<br />
<br />
J: Allen Wrench = Cool Ranch Screwdriver. LOL.<br />
<br />
C: I need my booty [beauty] rest.<br />
<br />
J: (re: spicy stuff) It tastes so good, but it doesn't feel so good.<br />
<br />
S: Can you put my hair in a "bunch" like a ballerina? (Or a bun. Whatevs.)<br />
<br />
J: About the pilgrims: "It was a hard trip through rough waters and all they had to drink was beer and wine." So... it wasn't all bad. ;)<br />
<br />
J: "I want to go surfing this weekend, unless the waves are super gnarly." Ha! Welcome to SoCal, bro.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the "beach." Should I be concerned he visualizes himself as a surfing sad clown/Jack Skellington? ;)</td></tr>
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C: When she "accidentally" hurts brother's feelings. "I just didn't wealize..."<br />
<br />
C (about the dryer): "It's like a wrinkling oven." Oh dear.<br />
<br />
C: Bignormous.<br />
<br />
There's a restaurant in our neighborhood we like called "Hapi Fish." We were talking about where we should go to dinner and Colby said, "We could go to Hapi Fish, or we could go to Sad Fish." Which is apparently what she calls the other sushi place down the street. Probably not going to be a marketing mastermind ;)<br />
<br />
"Doctor Colby" and "Doctor Jack." C: We live in Ant-Doctor-Ka. Because we're doctors. And because it's <i>dawk </i>for most of the day there.<br />
<br />
J and C were looking at their passports and J was explaining to C:<br />
<br />
"This is the Statue of Liverty"<br />
<br />
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<br />
"And this is Buffalo Wild Wings"<br />
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Me: Wow, Jill always gives you juice. Lucky you. Mama never gives you juice.<br />
J: I already know what you're gonna say, Mama. All that juice stwesses you out. But <i>pwease</i> don't tell her not to give us juice anymore. Dat would stwess ME out!<br />
<br />
Driving on the freeway overpass the other day, Jack looks down and says, "Man, there's so much twaffic on the 5 these days." Thanks, gramps. Is your bad knee telling you it's gonna rain tomorrow, too? :)<br />
<br />
Jack asked to borrow Colby's new skateboard. Her response: "My hawt is telling me no, but you can still use it." And later, when she, somewhat forcefully, took it back he started crying, "She STOLE her skateboard from me!!!"<br />
<br />
J: "I hope you won't take this as a threat, but Colby is going to keep crying until you go get her some water."<br />
<br />
C telling a story: So, um, so, we played this game... and then... we played this other game... and then ... we rode bikes... and then... we went to home depot... J: I played soccer! C: JACK INTAWUPTED ME!!!! Me: Sorry babe. Sometimes it's hard for us to know you're still talking because, you, um, stop.<br />
<br />
But, apparently, this isn't a two-way street. The kids were riding bikes out front and Jack was trying to explain "The Rules of Engagement." Colby just bikes off. Jack gets upset and says "Colby! You have to listen to me! You can't just ride away!" She pays no attention so Jack goes to tattle to Daddy, who waffles. Colby does a drive-by and says, "I don't have to listen if you take a willy, willy long time to tell the stowy and it gets bo-wing." Fair enough.<br />
<br />
Sitting on the couch in the playroom. Me: "What is this stuff all over the couch?" Colby: "It's eithah bwead cwumbs or boogahs." WTF?! Cue talk about boogers and Mom's furniture. I'm sure that one really sunk in.<br />
<br />
I overhear Jack: "...dimensional portal..."<br />
Me: What's a 'dimensional portal'?<br />
J: <i>DI-mension </i>portal, mama.<br />
Duh.<br />
<br />
C: Will you hand me the Valcony?<br />
J: It's the <i>Millenium Valcon, </i>not <i>Valcony.</i><br />
Me: Actually I think it's the Millenium Falcon.<br />
C: I was just about to say that.<br />
<br />
The kids are super into being "waiters" and helping set the table, etc. Jack brought a bowl of hot pasta to the table and when I took it from him I said, "Wow! That's hot! Isn't that hurting your hands?" He shrugged and said "I don't know, I'm just used to it, I guess. I touch willy hot things all the time, like lava and stuff." Oh, right, of course ;)<br />
<br />
C and J were trying to get the particulars of how DM and I came to be "one." C to DM: "So you weren't always mawwied? Ima and Baba didn't always know Mama? You and Mama were STWANGERS???" DM: "Well, we were strangers and then were were friends and then we fell in love and then we got married." C: "I need to find myself a nice stwanger to marry someday." Sounds like a Disney movie to me :)<br />
<br />
Jack's definitely going to be a vegetarian once he realizes I avoid meat on purpose and not because I'm "allergic." He always asks "Is this made from an aminal?" And FYI, watching Charlotte's Web didn't help. The other day we were trying to get him to eat some bacon and he was protesting and Colby said, "Jack, you need to eat pwotein so you can gwow up to be my big, helfy bruddah. If you don't has pwotein, den you won't gwow, and den you won't be my BIG bruddah anymore, you'll be my little bruddah." She makes a persuasive argument :)<br />
<br />
We saw this weird retro ad on TV for KFC and Colonel Sanders was wearing a bolero tie. Colby asked, "Why is dat man wearing a leash?!"<br />
<br />
C: You can pick your fwends, but nobody else can pick your nose, right mama?<br />
<br />
The other morning DM and I said we would play Rock Paper Scissors for who was going to do bedtime. As I was putting them to bed, Jack says, "So I guess you won rock, paper, scissors, huh mama?" Yeah, something like that ;)<br />
<br />
The kids were just vacuuming each other with a dust-buster. That means we can skip bath, right?<br />
<br />
Jack: I'm da magic tooter because my toots don't stink!<br />
Colby: MINE DO!<br />
<br />
Colby made a sandwich on a King's Hawaiian roll with buttery noodles in the middle. I think she's mine :) She was also dipping her carrots in butter AND ranch the other day (ew), which probably negates any nutritional value they might have, but hey, you know <a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2016/03/kombucha-wagon.html" target="_blank">me and ranch go way back</a> :)<br />
<br />
Colby: "I'm just a little girl with little ears, so dat's why I can't be a good listenah."<br />
<br />
The kids wanted an "after dinner treat" and I said we didn't have time for them to have lollipops because they take for-freaking-ever, so they spent the next 47,000 minutes painstakingly choosing something from their Easter baskets. I finally said "C'mon guys, hurry it along, will ya?" And Jack said, "Well, did is what happens when we don't get lollipops."<br />
<br />
C: Mama, do you want to hear dis lovely music on the carmonica?<br />
<br />
C: I like da rain because California is in a sewious dwought and we need watah!<br />
<br />
J went through this short phase where he was calling C a pygmy shrew??? (Sounds like "pygmy shwoo.") No clue where he got this, but it just SLAYED me. And it's pretty accurate, actually. lolol.<br />
<br />
The other day I drove right past the doggy daycare place. I said, "Oh man, I almost totally forgot the dogs! What a mean mama!" Colby said "It's okay. You <i>look</i> like a mean mama but you're actually not, so I still love you." Ummm, thanks?<br />
<br />
C: "Mama, you're a lot pwetty and a little bit fun." Well, hey, we can't all be the life of the party.<br />
<br />
J telling me that his teacher has this "magical spray" that makes boo-boos feel better. Me: Oh, maybe I should get some. J makes this face like, Ooooooh....hmmm... that's going to be a problem. He says "Welllll... It's at a pwace you and daddy don't willy like vewy much... It's ... at... [whispers] <i>Walmawt." </i>Ha. Sorry Walmart.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, at Target, my mothership. We were there the other day. DM was out of town. I told them if they were good we could go out to lunch after. Jack had this total tantrum in the store because I wouldn't buy him some toy. I was totally flabbergasted because usually they're really good out and about and I had somehow, by the grace of God, avoided the stereotypical tantrum in Target scenario thus far. I was saying, out loud, "Really? This is actually happening? Are we seriously doing this right now?" He kind of pulled it together but then lost his shit again as we were going out to the car. I got my first "I HATE YOU!" which was simultaneously jarring, heartbreaking, and hysterical. I said, No lunch! And he said, "FINE! Then I'm gonna make you MAKE me lunch and you're gonna HATE IT because YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK!" Damn, kid! Et tu, Brute?<br />
<br />
Me: UGH! Who peed on the toilet, AGAIN?<br />
C: It wasn't me! My pwivates don't move. Jack is the only one's whos pwivates move ALL OVAH DA PLACE! It musta been him.<br />
<br />
Colby tickled Jack until he was laughing hysterically and then asked, "Did I make you pee a little?" lolol, wonder where she got that idea? Post-kid bladder control's a biatch.<br />
<br />
C: Tell Jack to stop singing that song, it's hurting my foot!!!<br />
<br />
J stuffed a big ole seaweed chip into his mouth. Colby said, "Dat's not appwopwiate, Jack." He replied "It's not <i>inappwopwiate</i>, it's just bad mannahs." (He then outlined the parameters of "inappwopwiateness," including but not limited to fawt jokes and potty woids.)<br />
<br />
The other day C knocked over a whole tower of Magnatiles and said, "Mother of God!" Oopsies. Could be a lot worse, I guess ;)<br />
<br />
I decided to outlaw gummy vitamins for dental hygiene reasons, so I bought some regular chewable vitamins (which, PS, are even worse) and Jack saw them and said, "Colby, Look! Mama bought us these awesome old school vitamins!" Flinstones are so retro.<br />
<br />
Colby (who just turned 4) thinks the alphabet goes "A, B, C, T.... Y M Z." Second child. She'll learn it eventually, right? ;)<br />
<br />
For a long time, the girl wouldn't let us leave her room at night. We had to go through all these machinations and negotiations but I finally figured out the answer: Good ole reverse phychology.<br />
Me: Okay, time to sleep. But I'm soooo tired. I think I'll just sleep here.<br />
C: Well, you need to get up and go into your own bed.<br />
Me: So sleepy though.<br />
C: Seriously, Mama. Get outta my bed!<br />
Me: But it's so comfy! And you're so snuggly like a fluffy pillow!<br />
C: Well, there's not enough room in this bed for two.<br />
Don't let the door hit ya... ;)<br />
<br />
Colby's teacher was talking to DM about Colbs and her little BFF. "One's the mother figure and the other's the drama queen." DM said "Which one's which?" And the teacher said "I'll leave you to figure that out." DM was recounting this to me and Colby pipes in, "I'M THE QUEEN!"<br />
<br />
J: "I wish we could play 'the hooky' tomorrow." Me too, bud. Me too.<br />
<br />
C to J: You're a rat-a-tootie and I'm a rat-a-cutie!<br />
<br />
J: Abe Linked-In. (History in the 21st century.)<br />
<br />
Colby is EXTREMELY CONCERNED that our dogs do not have the same last name as her. Her own mother? Eh. But the dogs? This is NOT OKAY and must be remedied IMMEDIATELY.<br />
<br />
When I asked the girl what kind of birthday party she wanted: "Wainbow spawkle unicorn jumping over a wainbow spawkle bwidge of wainbows." Alrighty then.<br />
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She also said, "You thought of the name Wainbow when I was in your tummy, but you didn't want that even though it was a pwetty name, then Golden came into your head and you said, "We can give her golden hair but name her Colby with wainbows in her hawt." <3<br />
<br />
J: You know what I like, Mama?<br />
Me: What?<br />
J: Being a kid.<br />
Awww <3 This is especially sweet coming from our resident Eeyore.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazbwKu00Kpr8QHOua3sVEbgjarXJVZrdB_nKbTL-UYlaXvAW8piVIbPQpxoyMCdGmRtphW0ObRhTIPR2loekobG52j7ieq5AZ98GDOn3N6CMpDbjaWe9YaDVDl-inMptuJohi5Og2jnwe/s1600/jc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazbwKu00Kpr8QHOua3sVEbgjarXJVZrdB_nKbTL-UYlaXvAW8piVIbPQpxoyMCdGmRtphW0ObRhTIPR2loekobG52j7ieq5AZ98GDOn3N6CMpDbjaWe9YaDVDl-inMptuJohi5Og2jnwe/s320/jc.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I heart them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
To read more funny sh*t my kids say:<br />
<div>
<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/06/sht-my-kids-say.html" target="_blank">Vol. 1</a></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/12/sht-my-kids-say-part-ii.html" target="_blank">Vol. 2</a></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/05/shit-my-kids-say-vol-3.html" target="_blank">Vol. 3</a></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2015/06/sht-my-kids-say-vol-4.html" target="_blank">Vol. 4</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My husband thinks he's pretty funny, too: </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.istherecheeseinit.com/2013/09/sht-my-husband-says.html" target="_blank">Sh*t My Husband Says </a></div>
Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6605476122114557122.post-5611171944246178752016-03-17T07:00:00.000-07:002016-03-17T09:56:19.104-07:00How to Catch a GD LeprechaunOkay you guys. I think I'm just being a big baby on behalf of my biggest baby but this made me so sad! I know I'm always saying "You Do You" and "Give Less Fucks" and "We Don't Need to Keep Up With No Stinking Joneses" and stealing my friend Claire's ban on "Shoulds," and that is all well and good when it comes to ourselves, but it is SO HARD when the brunt of this important life lesson falls on the little ones.<br />
<br />
Last week Jackson Jay came home with a helpful flyer informing us that we needed to bring a "Leprechaun Trap" to school before St. Patrick's Day. I had never heard of such a thing before in my life, but luckily the flyer came with some sample photos, and I'm crafty enough, so I figured we got this. DM suggested we bring a box of Lucky Charms, but Jack was really into the engineering of the whole thing - he wanted some sort of mechanism, some pomp and circumstance, and a box of cereal wasn't going to cut it. Plus, I never pass up an opportunity to glue my fingers together, thrash the wood finish on the dining room table, or contract a mean case of glitter-lung (like black lung, with bling).<br />
<br />
By the way, Leprechaun Traps are an actual thing, apparently, and I was late to the game, because Michael's was completely sold out of fake gold coins and all things green and rainbow. But I thought I had cobbled together a good enough plan that the kids could actually do.<br />
<br />
So we made some traps. They loved it. There was a heated discussion about the existence of leprechauns (I did not receive the memo that this was another elaborate lie I would have to maintain for 5-7 years). It was ultimately decided that "Leprechauns are just Elves that wear green," ipso facto, they are as real as Chuck Ferry, our resident Elf on the Shelf. Jack also told me that, according to his teacher, leprechauns are naughty and make big fat messes like their trolling red-shirted elf-kin. However, if you're Irish, you're safe from their shenanigans and malarkey. Damn, Chauncey. Seems kinda racist. (P.S. If anyone invents Leprechaun on the Lawn, so help me God, I will end you.)<br />
<br />
Anyway. The Boy was SO EXCITED to take his trap to school Monday morning. Before we got out of the car he said, "Wait, Mama, can you explain again <i>exactly</i> how the leprechaun is going to get trapped?" He wanted to have the "story" down pat so that he could explain the particulars to his friends. Once we ironed out our talking points, we headed inside.<br />
<br />
The traps were not actually due until Wednesday, so for once we were actually ahead of the game. Only one other kid had brought hers in and the two were more or less matched in terms of effort and attention to detail. Jack was so proud of his, and relished giving hands-on demonstrations.<br />
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Fast-forward to Wednesday morning, the day the traps were due. The teacher had them all lined up, apparently from biggest and grandest to teeny-tiniest. And Jack's was at the very end of the line. As we walked in, one of his friends said, "I like your tiny little leprechaun trap, Jack!" Oh my gosh, you guys. Ouch. This kid cares SO MUCH about this exact kind of thing. He is so sensitive and so easily discouraged and so quick to compare himself to others and come up short. He is hyper-aware of the "currency of cool," even in kindergarten - from clothes and shoes and hair to reading levels, lunch contents, and extracurricular activities. I could see his sweet little face trying to pretend like he didn't care, his eyes tracking from his Lilliputian leprechaun trap to the behemoth boondoggle at the other end of the table that was apparently built to house a leprechaun the size of a small horse. What had, the day before, been a balloon full-to-bursting with pride, popped right in front of my eyes. I spent the whole drive to work with that cry-y feeling behind my eyeballs. I know it's a stupid thing. I know that teaching my kids to care about such petty displays of worth is the wrong lesson here. But it literally hurt my heart.<br />
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Also, I wish I had taken a picture so you guys could see what I'm dealing with here. A couple friends called me an overachiever when they saw what we made, but I knew what I was up against. These are the types of moms who actually DO the shit they find on Pinterest, as opposed to me (and I assume the rest of the civilized world), who pin 9,437,588 things and expect to complete them posthumously in heaven where I imagine there will be pre-assembled Martha Stewart craft storage, self-cleaning crock pots that run on the power of unicorn tears and angel's wings, and an endless supply of organic kale, quinoa, empty toilet paper rolls, and glitter glue (actually maybe this is hell?) Anyway, this clearly wasn't their first leprechaun rodeo.<br />
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Do you remember being a kid and getting something new - a book, a toy, a dress, a haircut, and thinking it was "Totally radical, dude!" Only to arrive at school to be tried by a jury of your peers and found utterly uncool? Ugh. My boy with the marshmallow soul :(<br />
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This is how stuff gets out of hand though, people! Because next year you can guarantee we are going to build the Empire State Building of leprechaun traps, which in turn is going to ruin some other kid's day. It's a vicious cycle of leprechaun one-uppery. And now I'm going to be part of the problem! Or maybe not. I have 364 days to turn this into a teaching moment. We shall see. It would be great if we could all just have a little pow wow and agree to substantially lower the bar. That would be ideal.<br />
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Also, if we could agree to let our kids to do their own projects? Because I know your child did not do that Frank Lloyd Mc'Wright shit by himself. I will be the first to admit I am an overbearing quality assurance manager but for the most part I try to let them do their own work even when it means shit is crooked and ugly and they put the colors of the rainbow in the wrong order which causes me physical pain.<br />
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I honestly don't even think this would be a thing with Colby. She does, to an extent, get caught up in the homogenizing popularity contest that starts, apparently, in preschool. Her love of jewelry and pink and princesses and "pretty things" and utter disdain for pants doesn't come from me. (Okay well maybe the pants thing is from me.) But for the most part, when it comes to other people's opinions of her, she doesn't have two fucks to rub together. I wish I could bottle up this imperviousness, this certitude, and sprinkle it on big brother's oatmeal every morning. As I've said here before, we don't worry too much about Colby Jean. She'll take life by the horns and head-butt it. But sometimes I wish I could just cover Jack in bubble-wrap until he's, oh, I don't know, 35 or so?<br />
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"Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." And to leave it stabbed and bleeding at the hands of the cruel world! (Elizabeth Stone)<br />
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And yes, I know, this is a textbook example of #firstworldproblems. Whatever. They're my specialty ;)<br />
<br />Mackenzie Cheesemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328536104424210024noreply@blogger.com0