I received an envelope in the mail recently featuring the best misspelling of my name yet – Debraha. As in Deborahahahahaha (spoken in the Count’s voice from Sesame Street). Now check out the face staring back from my breakfast plate this weekend. Doesn’t look much like the Count, but he does look ready to let some evil cacklery abound- good thing I ate him. At least he died laughing. ♦
Got a new set of knockers for Christmas.
Allusion to a politically incorrect phrase on my part? Absolutely. As Carlin and Cleese have touched on in times past, political correctness can in itself be offensive and carried too far. Doing my part to ensure that doesn’t happen.
Along the same lines, Bean and I have been grumpalumping about certain societal imbalances as of late. At the risk of offering up derogatory socio-political armchair commentary, you won’t find me at a women’s march any time soon. I support true feminism, not the surface level bandwagon version that once again doesn’t attempt to offer equality to women, but instead desires to position them as superior to men. Woo, they have vaginas and are proud of it. Were large groups of men to state pride in their equivalent body part, take to wearing roosters’ combs on their heads in a coy winking nod, those same women would freak the fruck out. Way to leap into the very role they’re railing against. Just because it seems that men have been doing that very thing in a metaphorical sense for years, does not justify the hypocritical wearing of the shoe on the other foot. Hat on the other head? Empowerment, equality, yes. Entitlement, over-elevation, no.
We’ve already been there, done that. Those that don’t know their history are doomed to repeat it. Instead of taking us forward, there’s a current rehashing of ground already gained as though it were brand new territory. Each new generation often learns life’s lessons for themselves, but take a clue already. A brief look at feminism in the sixties, seventies, and eighties will prove the déjà vu of it all rather quickly. I cringe to think that a perusal of The Women’s Rights Movement that started in the last half of the past century would reveal even more of a rehash than that of progression. About the only new thing the movement is bringing, is the trend of stating it all more crassly and crudely which is tacky, tough, and disrespectful, not edgy, strong, or intelligent.
True feminism means being as feminine (or not) as a female feels like being while maintaining authority and commanding respect equal to that of any other person. Those that still equate femininity with weakness versus perhaps with softness are missing the entire point. And feminism is equality for both genders. The “duh” to follow that statement is palpable.
Infuriatingly, many of the same women crying “feminism” are threatening to destroy the credibility of truly victimized women, undermining a key point the movement is meant to achieve. I speak of those that dare to wrongfully define what constitutes rape. Feeling shame and uncomfortable feelings over degrading oneself with casual sex is NOT rape. They might have been on the fence or not really wanted to do it, but they did anyway. Own it. Women must take responsibility for their actions or non-actions, to not do so is a slap in the face of feminism.
Furthermore, skewering any man that dare voice an opinion that’s not entirely, utterly deferential and servile won’t fly either. Take the case of the actor Matt Damon being reviled over statements calling for- gasp- fair assessment. Writing his statement off as merely adding to the noise versus validating it as a needed reminder of reason. Silencing men in the same manner women claim to’ve been silenced by men. Tit for tat, an eye for an eye? I’ve found a place for shame.
The future is NOT female. How very unprogressive. The future is human. ♦
You know that quote by Amy Poehler that’s been floating around a while now? Here’s my favorite portion of it: “I want to be around people that dream and support and do things.” I’m not a fan of faddish language when it’s used by pretty much anyone over the age of twenty-five- all those terms constantly peppered throughout Buzzfeed post titles. Feels like a desperate grasp at youth somehow, extra (see what I did there), though, I know, I know, it’s likely just a habit formed from lots of exposure.
The word “extra.” When used to denote negative, dramatical actions by others, it fits. Some though, try using it to level those that attempt anything of excellence, the doers being cut down by the do-nots. To do things (do things well, that is), requires extra- extra effort and ability. I’m of the school that’d quickly suggest that those that cry extra are, in fact, not enough. Not in their human worth, but in their all too human critical behavior. (Tell us how you really feel about it, Deborah.) Raising a fork full of cobbler, and dreaming of new things to support and do. ♦
Love this coat. Wore it when I was three years old. Donated it last yearish along with other items, but made sure to grab a pic first. The image unlocks memories that simply aren’t there without the visual cue- sitting in my little wood rocking chair, leaning up against the rough stone of the fireplace hearth near a tall poinsettia at Christmas. The soft fluff on my cheek when I tilted my head, and the smoothness of a glossy button in my fingers. I remember thinking the satiny lining was a secret just for me. The holidays are over, and I’m now nearly in the mood for Christmas! Let the new year ahead bring with it a little better timing. :) ♦