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I AM SICK AND TIRED OF CONSTANTLY BEING BULLIED FOR MY EXTREME WEALTH AND POLITICAL POWER

From McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, by Bob Vulfov

“‘I could say I’m the most bullied person on the world,’ Mrs. Trump said in an interview with ABC News that was filmed during her visit to Kenya last week.” — New York Times, October 11, 2018

I have had enough! Army of butlers, please exit the parlor. Bullying is a serious issue for the supremely privileged and it is time for me to speak out. I refuse to let my brave voice be silenced, even though it literally never has been and never will be. It’s time for me to speak up on behalf of yacht owners and tax loopholers everywhere. As I sit on my throne of golden influence, I know more than ever that I am the most bullied person in the world.

Do you all think it’s easy to be on the wrong end of unreasonable income inequality, lapping up beluga caviar as most people can’t afford to pay their monthly rent? It’s extremely difficult to be me. I am often taunted with terrible verbal abuse, such as, “It looks like we’ve run out of caviar,” and “You have eaten over 12 tins of very expensive caviar this week.” When will somebody tell me it gets better? This morning, I stubbed my toe on my platinum coffee table because I was distracted reading a tweet claiming that I am canceled. My diamond-studded life is really hard.

I will no longer stand by silently as I am mercilessly ridiculed and bullied by the unwashed masses just because I happen to have an unpaid servant whose only responsibility is to tell me what the weather is like outside. I know I could just look it up on my phone, but I don’t want to. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t think I should be bullied just because I stand idly by as my friends, family, and I continue to accumulate wealth and influence on the backs of the poor and powerless. I deserve to continue living my immoral, complicit life without any criticism.

I can think of no person in the world who has been bullied to the extent that I have. Open a textbook, point to any figure throughout history, and I’ll tell you how I’ve been bullied worse than them. Every day I wake up as a member of the elite ruling class. I have complete economic freedom to do anything I want with no consequences. I can afford the best doctors — so I’m basically immortal — and the best lawyers — so I’m basically above the law. But, from time to time, someone says something slightly mean about me and my complicitness in the destruction of the planet. This bullying of me and my almost limitless power must stop.

I also don’t deserve to be mocked for dressing like a 19th-century colonialist while visiting countries that were most impacted by brutal colonial oppression. Sometimes, I think people just need to walk a mile in my $10,000 shoes. Then, maybe they’d think twice about bullying me.

 

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1

But I Hope You Feel Empowered, Sweet Cheeks

From The Washington Post, by Alexandra Petri:

Well, sure, I am going to vote yes on Kavanaugh, sweetie. Don’t become hysterical. But I just feel so awful it had to happen like this. It’s such a shame, I think.

I just think, dollface, if there is one thing that came out of all this, sugar, that was good, it is, pumpkin, that you got to have your say. Baby, you got to stand up in front of all these people and bear witness to what you felt like you had experienced, like a big girl! It was so important, and I absolutely believed you, sweetheart!

Chickadee, baby doll, your voice was so important. Your movement matters, honey. It matters, darling. It matters, sweet cheeks.

I think the people who should feel bad, though, honey pie (not you, of course, duckling!) are the people who told you that if you said something, it might matter. That was mean of them. What was so cruel was that you, baby girl, had to bear witness thinking that something would happen. I suppose you didn’t know, sugar tits, that nothing was going to happen, doll baby. But I was so inspired by you and what you did! It was so brave, pudding! It was so wonderful, toots!

It was so important! It was so inspiring! I am going to work to be sure your voice is heard, chickadee — loud and clear, dumpling! I am going to be sure, of course, that your daughters never suffer an indignity, baby, like thinking that if they poured out their pain, people might do something other than wade through it and go about their business, buttercup. That must have been embarrassing.

Oh, sugar, your movement is so important. But if you had a legitimate objection, I’m sure the legislative body would have ways of shutting the whole confirmation down, darling. The point is, we can all be inspired by the brave women and girls like you, baby doll, who said their piece, who poured their voices down a deep well from which no echo emerged, honey! I was certainly inspired. Girl power!

I believe you, sweetie. Of course I do, jellybean. It mattered. It mattered so much. The future is female, toots! But speaking up is its own reward, isn’t it? Don’t you find that, dollface, sugar, sweet cheeks? I find that. You got to feel heard, didn’t you, toots? Not listened to, but heard. You got to say words out loud where people were able to hear them, and then you got to watch them continue about what they were doing, which must have been so empowering for you, duckling! You got to feel like you had a real voice, honey! It was adorable.

Gumdrop, what matters is that it was good for you. I hope it was good for you. I just feel awful that it was all for nothing, pumpkin, sugar pie, peach! I just feel so sad watching you struggle like that while I did nothing, princess! It pained me to see you think you could change my mind, oh honey, oh precious, oh lamb.

But don’t worry your head about it, darling, sweetheart, love bug. I have every reason to believe that Justice Kavanaugh will be fair and fine. He will bridge the partisan gap. The process isn’t broken, doll baby, darling. You can trust him, sweetie. What’s important, sugarplum, is that you tried!

It was so important, what you said. Of course it was, sunshine! I am so glad we heard you, sweetheart, even if we did not listen to you, pumpkin!

Sit down, now. Shut up, honey.

Of course, I believe you, sweetie. I don’t believe that what you say happened happened, duckling, but I think it is so brave you said it! I’m just mad that those meanies, pookie, lied to you and gave you hope. Hope is always the cruelest thing to give people. Hope is what makes the monsters in the box unbearable.

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Suffer the Little Children…

The ever-expanding sexual abuse scandals involving the Catholic church have been in the news for days now.
It’s time to re-post part of a piece (“A Tale of Two Pedophiles”) in which I wrote about my encounter in the late 1980’s with Father Oliver O’Grady.
Unfortunately, it seems nothing has changed in the wake of that scandal:

Thoughts of Jaycee Dugard brought up my brief brush with one of the worst pedophiles the Catholic church has known to date.  His name is Father Oliver O’Grady, who spent years being shuttled from one diocese to another even though the hierarchy of the church knew he was molesting children.  He finally wound up as the parish priest in a small town in Calaveras county, California.  I was working as a dental hygienist for a local dentist and Father O’Grady happened to be one of our patients.

The dentist I worked for was a devout Catholic.  My employer was, on the whole, a nice fellow who felt strongly about his convictions.  He had anti-abortion posters hung quite visibly in his lab where patients would see them as they were escorted to their dental chairs.  Some patients took offense at being subjected to something like that in a dental office and angrily left the office–and in some cases they left the practice itself.  To me, this dogmatism on his part was like wearing a pair of blinders which allowed you to see only what you were supposed to see.

Often the dentist, his assistant and I would have lunch at a nearby sandwich shop.  On some occasions the dentist’s wife would join us.  At one of these informal lunches we were talking about water wells; a common topic in rural areas where having a good well is essential to life itself.  I happened to mention that a neighbor of mine, whose father was half Native American, taught me how to dowse for water with a forked branch.  The usual term for that was “water witching”, a skill that even the men who worked for our local electric company, PG & E, knew how to do.

My employer turned to me and said, very serious and straight-faced, “Isn’t that witchcraft?”  At first I thought he was kidding, but quickly realized he wasn’t.  I was nonplussed and stammered something about “No, it’s just something you feel.”  The dentist’s wife was in our little group and she tried to smooth things over a bit, but I have to say I was taken aback that someone in our modern age would bandy about the charge “witchcraft.”

Now, post-Palin anti-witchcraft blessing ceremonies, I’m no longer surprised.

I mention all of this in regard to Father O’Grady only to make the point that while my employer was looking behind the dental chair for imaginary witches, here we had a man who was actually doing unspeakable things with children.  Father O’Grady was a figure of authority and power, as was the diocese that sent him to this unsuspecting little hamlet.  Everyone in my office fell all over himself in deference to this man when he came in for his appointments.  It was “Father this…” and “Father that…” but no one had the slightest clue that he had been molesting children for years and the powers that be knew about it, but kept it hidden.

The sadly laughable thing about it was that he was such a little milquetoast of a man when I finally did meet him.  I took an immediate dislike to him because he would not look me in the eye.  What kind of a priest won’t look you in the eyes?  Aren’t the eyes windows into the soul?  Father O’Grady’s soul was hidden from view.  There was too much ugliness there.

Father O’Grady as he looked sometime around when I met him.

2005_07_13_Russell_BlindEye_ph_Oliver_OGrady

It was several years after I left that practice that the whole story surrounding Father O’Grady came to light.  I could only imagine what they thought at my old dental office.  Had real evil replaced the imaginary?  I somehow doubt it.  Excuses were made all along the line for the transferring of O’Grady from one place to the next, without punishment or warning.  The man involved in Jaycee Lee Dugard’s abduction seems to have had every break in the books also.  It shouldn’t have taken so long in either Garrido’s case or Father O’Grady’s for someone to step up and put a stop to the abuse.

The kids deserved better.

2

I Sure As Hell Didn’t.

From an interview on BBC conducted by Prince Harry:

Former President Barack Obama said he felt a sense of “serenity” the day his successor was inaugurated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Serenity? I felt anything but.

First, I felt disbelief—that the people of my country would have chosen this ignorant, self-involved man over a woman who was the most qualified presidential candidate in recent times.

I felt disgust when Trump put his short-fingered hand on the Bible, the one used by Lincoln at that.  This man, this “Christian,” who has lived his life against all the tenets of the Bible, i.e. charity, forbearance, turning the other cheek, taking care of the least of mankind, should have been struck by lightning on the spot if there is a God.

Then I felt dismay as Trump launched into his dystopian, Steve Miller driven speech. This is what my country had to look forward to? George W. Bush had it right when he remarked afterward: “That was some weird shit.” And at the one year mark we have only just begun to see the weird shit Trump has in store for us.

I hope former President Obama was just trying to be his usual “no drama” self when he told this to Prince Harry; not wanting to poke the Twitter bear into a retaliatory attack.

But I can look back at the video and photos of Michelle on that day and know exactly what she was thinking. Her aspect mirrored mine and that of all the voters who refused to buy into the last gasp of white superiority, xenophobia, and misogyny that the orange-haired man on the podium represented.

As Kramer in “Seinfeld” found out, just saying “Serenity now!” rarely, if ever, works.

 

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What Not To Wear: Royal Racist Edition

From New York Magazine:

While the rest us were focused solely on Meghan Markle (and her lip-gloss) arriving at Queen Elizabeth’s annual pre-Christmas lunch at Buckingham Palace on Wednesday, Lainey Gossip noticed something disconcerting on a royal rolling up to the event: Princess Michael of Kent’s brooch.

As Lainey Lui points out, Princess Michael of Kent has been accused of racism in the past. Back in 2004, she reportedly told black diners at a restaurant to “go back to the colonies.” Shortly after, to prove just how non-racist she is, the royal said: “I even pretended years ago to be an African, a half-caste African, but because of my light eyes I did not get away with it, but I dyed my hair black.”

Princess Michael reportedly spoke with Markle at the Christmas lunch, which raises the question — did Markle actually come face-to-face with this brooch? The Suits actress’s engagement with Prince Harry is notable for many reasons: she’s American and divorced, and their engagement photos look like perfect perfume ads. But on top of that, she’s also biracial, and her biracial heritage has prompted racist attacks from the press.

Per Lainey Gossip:

There’s history to that kind of jewelry. Click here to read about it. These kinds of pieces depict — and fetishise — Africans in subservient roles. To put it bluntly, this is a piece of jewelry made out of slave imagery.

You’d think a member of the royal family would know better than to wear jewelry like that in general, but particularly at an event where Prince Harry’s biracial fiancée was meeting the extended family for the first time.

 

 

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Dear America…

Last night Donald Trump grabbed you by the pussy and you let him do it because he’s a star. I thought you were better than that, but apparently I was wrong.

Now, he’s going to have to deliver on all of his promises: to build a 2,000 mile long wall along the border and make Mexico pay for it; to single-handedly resuscitate a dead coal industry and bring back manufacturing jobs that have left the building long ago, much like Elvis; to tear up trade treaties and climate change pacts, while ignoring the fact that Florida (which he won) will be underwater in the not too distant future; to round up and deport 11 million illegal immigrants, “humanely” by means of a deportation force; to repeal and replace the ACA with…something…causing 21 million people to lose their insurance coverage; to prosecute his political opponent so y’all can “lock her up”; to open up the libel laws so he can sue anyone who says something about him that he doesn’t like; to kick the shit out of ISIS…somehow differently than the way we’re successfully kicking them now; to put justices on the Supreme Court who will show those uppity wimmen who’s boss when it comes to control of their own uteruses; to make everyone say “Merry Christmas,” even though they may not be a *Christian* as he opportunistically says he is.

The list goes on.

I hope you’re happy today. But, not unlike Brexit, when buyer’s remorse sets in later–don’t come crying to me.

I’m done.