The Places That are Mine, Where I Lived

I’m not talking about houses.  I’ve never owned property.  Given how shitty my luck is with finding jobs and financial success, I probably never will.  But I was watching a video by the YouTuber Anime Abandon.  I’ve often talked about how I get ideas from other people.  Does that make me a plagiarist?  Not whole-sale.  I take ideas of others and offer my own spin.  Since there isn’t a single thing that is truly original anymore, I don’t think too long on it.  In his video, he talked about a video rental store that just recently closed in California that was his childhood home.  Where his love of anime and old childhood memories of sleepovers were associated.  It got me to thinking.

Over the course of my life, I’ve lived in a lot of places.  In each of those places, there are the memories that are associated with them.  The places that felt like my own, to one degree or another.  Not that I felt I lived there, but that I felt the most comfortable.  Wait, that’s not right.  How do I put it.  You ever have those places where, regardless of where you are, it is where your memories are associated?  Like if you live in a house and you have a tree fort that you spent a ton of time in?  It’s like that.  So here we are, and I figured I’d talk about the places from where I’ve been that felt like mine.  Maybe it’s telling that I haven’t had a house I’ve lived in after the second from my childhood that feel like mine.

When I was really young, the place I most associate with that time was my Grandma’s house.  She and I were incredibly close.  A maternal figure in my life.  It helped that I was not a fan of the grandmother on my mother’s side at all.  We butted heads almost routinely.  But when I think of my grandma’s house, there are so many good memories associated with it.  Her and I talking about whatever.  I would go on about whatever random thing, and she would listen.  Kinda like my old man does, even though I know he isn’t much for it.  He took a lot from her.  Probably we get along so well.  That’s not to say my mother and I don’t.  It’s just different.

All the memories, of my time there.  Visiting my grandpa, who was in his basement.  The man was a chronic alcoholic, and his health was abysmal because of it.  Living on disability checks from the VA, he was kept cozy.  I would often go and talk to him.  More often than not, he’d be outside.  He would just sit in his chair and be in the sun.  Or he’d spend hours mowing the big lawn they had.  I could tell that was one of his favorite things to do.  Groj knows, their lawn definitely benefited from it.  It looked immaculate.

There were also the memories of my time with my brother from another mother.  He was like a brother to me.  In reality, he was my cousin.  All the time that he and I would be in the back room, playing pretend.  Good memories.  From the days before he stabbed me in the back.  Wish I could hold on to those days.

The last thing I associate with that place is the first girl I ever loved.  She moved in there, and I would always go and see her.  When we were younger, I could go up, watch our favorite childhood show.  We would talk about nerd stuff, jam out to 90’s music, listen to these new age CDs that she had that I still listen to to this day.  Time went by.  We grew up together.  One day, I started to notice that she was becoming a woman.  It didn’t slip past me how beautiful she was.  Thus began the tragic story of how much I loved her, but could never tell her.  In hindsight, I wished I had.  To Hell with the consequences.  You only live once, after all.  The thing I would most change, if I could go back and do this all over again.

Upon moving away to the old family homestead that my parents bought after my mother’s family had to move because they couldn’t handle a three-story house at their age.  There, the places I found I most gravitated towards were the lake and the field.  The home was a lake.  There are a ton of memories from where I would go there when I was very young.  I have always had shitty balance, so I flopped out of the boat onto the raft like a fucking beached whale.  That puts a smile on my face.  Memories of when her and I were on that raft, just the two of us.  I wanted to kiss her so bad.  But I never did.  Why not?  Questions that have no answer.  That never will.

I could wander down to the lake, or through the field, and let my mind and imagination wander.  But more than that, there was the mowing the lawn.  Surprising, I know.  But Sally had me get on the riding mower because this place also had one hell of a big lawn.  I was damn good at it, so I would take my time.  It never stopped being enjoyable.  So many stories that played out in my head.  Getting to ponder whatever fiction I wanted to.  Making and destroying universes, all in my mind.  So many of my big idea documents on my computer can trace their origin back to those days on the lawnmower.

After high school, I started out in a local community college.  That place became something of a port of mine.  Often I would walk around.  Then there was a time when I was really tight with a girl who worked there.  She was a student worker at the library, and virtually every day I was there, I would drop by and visit.  Even with how it all ended, and the fact that she hates me now, I still smile at the memories.  Makes me so angry at how the whole thing ended, because if she had just come and talked to me, I know that we would have worked things out.  Like so many people in my life, she kept all her anger at me bottled up, and now it’s done.  Still, those were good days.  When I felt the world at my fingertips, and all the people in my life with me.

When I was in state college, the place that was mine was the walk around campus.  I walked absolutely everywhere.  Didn’t drive anywhere on campus, if I could avoid it.  That was pretty much always.  I can only think of one or two times that I absolutely could not walk to where I needed to go.  Hell, I’d walk to events on campus.  The reason I would do that is because I lived in the dorms.  The walk was always really nice.  Jamming to my favorite tunes on my iPod and getting a little time to let my mind wander.  Noticing a pattern?  The places that are mine are the ones where my mind gets to wander and go to myriad places.  Where my creativity can take shape and fly.

My first apartment had no place like that.  The neighborhood was unsafe in the extreme, and I didn’t trust anyone in there.  But I was living with someone I was dating, and that satiated it.  Her and I could talk long into the night about whatever.  She loved to watch me play games and we could watch movies and make fun of them.  So many good memories.  Just like all the loves in my life, it’s from another existence.  Memories that have no home.

Then there was my second place.  My last apartment sucked.  It was a shit-hole.  But there is one thing I miss.  Because I was having difficulty finding a job (a story that has never died in my life, even when I already have one), I got cooped up in there.  So what did I do?  Easy – I went for walks.  The one I miss there – the hospital.  That was my daily walking route, and I loved it.  Every single day, without fail, I would go around it.  The place is pretty big, so my route never felt short.  In fact, it kept growing as time went by, and I decide to extend the walk.  All those days, during the warm and breezy afternoons of summer, and dark and bitterly cold days of winter.  Even with all of my problems, it was a warm memory.  A good walk, too.

Which brings me to now.  I’m in a much nicer apartment, yet it doesn’t feel like home.  I have a walking route for when I’m not at work.  At work I take multiple walks a day, but it’s always centered around my job.  I don’t feel like that’s mine.  Well, not completely.  The people I hang out with there and the good times we have are awesome.  Makes that I have to leave to find a better job that much more frustrating.  To have to go from an awesome job because of financial need just pisses me off.  That’s not how life should be.  But then, there are a lot of moments like that, in my eyes.  Still, there are no places in my life currently that feel like mine.  When I leave her, nothing is going to stay with me.  It’s all just going to slip away.

All those memories.  So many of them are from places that either I’m not there anymore, or they aren’t there anymore.  My grandma’s old home has been completely remodeled from the ground up.  You genuinely wouldn’t recognize it anymore.  The house on the lake is owned by my uncle now when my parents sold it for the same reason my mother’s parents did.  My apartment is now probably being rented by some undergrad like me.  My first apartment is a shithole that I won’t think twice about.  The second home I lived in, which felt like a place I could call mine was sold and then totally fucked up by the people who lived there.  The vast lawn we had, the garden my mother grew, the beautiful brick walls in front of amazing flowerbeds that merged with the upper tier lawn that my father spent so long making and my mother maintained so studiously are overgrown with weeds.  It kinda broke my heart when I took a couple pins and broke into the joint after those people had to sell it.  To see the empty halls of my youth, decaying.  It made me sad then, and it makes me sad now.

I’ll never get to go back to that back-room, or when that girl moved down the big basement room and we jammed out.  I’ll never get to be next to her on the raft after we went swimming.  I’ll never get the opportunity to tell her how I felt when it really would have meant something.  When the truth finally got out, we already were frayed and it was abundantly clear that that damage was already done.

What are the places in your life that you have memories attached to?  Let me know in the Comments.

Until next time, a quote,

“Nothing is completely safe from being lost forever.” – Bennett the Sage

Peace out,

Maverick

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Being Nice Sucks

You know what I miss – the days on YouTube where everyone was ripping the shit out of everyone else.  When someone had dumb ideas that people were all over them tearing apart their arguments piece by piece and making sport of how stupid they are for believing in that crap.  Those days were great.  Now everybody is kissing everyone else’s ass.  Everybody has to be nice.  Everybody has to be understanding.  It sucks, and drives me up the fucking wall.  What makes it worse is when you have people in real life that say something patently stupid, but you can’t take them to task for it because you have to be fucking nice to everyone.  It’s the cornerstone of professionalism, and it drives me right up the fucking wall.

Today I got into this conversation with some coworkers about anti-vaxxers.  I made a point that I think that if someone refuses to vaccinate their children, they should have their kids taken away because they are an unfit parent.  I still hold to that.  But a couple of my coworkers immediately jumped to the whole “to each their own.”  No!  Let me explain something to you – my ability to punch ends at your face.  The second my fist hurts someone else, I have violated their rights.  It is the EXACT same principle here!  If you don’t vaccinate your kids, you aren’t just hurting your kids!  You’re hurting the children who could potentially get in contact with your children and get serious diseases because you didn’t vaccinate.  Like a baby who is too young, or a kid who is immuno-compromised and get get vaccines.  That child is at risk because of your stupid-ass decisions.

Their reasoning was that some people had a reason.  For one of them, it was a family member who didn’t do that because of their faith.  Are you fucking kidding me?!  So, other children should have to be at risk because of some Bronze Age bullshit that a grown-ass adult only believes because they are indoctrinated with that crap as a kid?!  Because no RATIONAL adult believes in a magic man in the fucking sky!  That’s the crap you believe as a kid!

There’s a man with a white beard who knows what you do all the time, and he knows if you’ve been bad or good, and if you’re good he gives you presents on Christmas.

Oh, I’m sorry.  I confused Gawd with Santa Claus.  Their stories are so easily interchangeable.  And both make about as much sense when you say them out loud.

But I can’t say shit!  I can’t call them out for their stupid-ass beliefs about people who are doing real harm in the world and why we can’t just take the “to each his own” approach to this.  When we’re seeing the rates of diseases that we’ve vaccinated against on the rise in this country, and more and more children getting sick, the principle I described above most definitely applies.  But they’re my coworkers, and I have to be nice.  Even if their beliefs on this issue are fucking stupid and need to be seriously examined.

Everywhere you look, it’s just you having to suck it up and be nice to every goddamn person everywhere because otherwise you get in trouble.  It’s professional, after all.  I probably have a lot of coworkers who think this way.  People whose intelligence I reasonably respect until I hear crap like this.  Then I have to accept that they have these working parts of their brains, and the parts that they turn off for whatever personal reason.  To turn your intellect off.  The cornerstone of American society.

You can’t talk about nothing with nobody.  Everything has to be filtered through a censor with everyone.  I’d say fuck that, but my own rational brain that actually works told me to just go out for a while and come back.  Otherwise I would have torn their stupid ideas a new one, at which point I’d be in trouble.  The curse of being born with a ton of common sense.  Now here I am, wishing I could go back in time and pick that fight because their ideas are stupid on the face of it and somebody needs to fucking tell them!

Maybe that’s how common sense works.  When you accept other people’s stupid ideas and just go about your day because the alternative is worse.  And that’s why being nice sucks.  Because the only way it works is if you kiss everyone else’s ass all the fucking time.  Unless you have enough money to be able to tell people to fuck off.

Like this morning, I am waiting for the elevator to get to my job.  There is this woman there with me.  The door opens, and she just rushes inside, even though there was someone about to come out.  How fucking rude!  But I can’t say anything.  I wanted to.  Wanted to look that bitch right in the eye, with her prissy attitude and expensive clothes, shoes, and handbag, and say, “manners cost nothing, you know.”  But nope!  Just kept quiet and thought that this is why people across the world think that Americans aren’t civilized.  You know, because we’re not.

All I want is to be financially successful enough to tell people what I really think of them.  Over the weekend I told a family member what I think of her, and it felt fucking great!  She is such a bitch to me that being able to tell her off was just the best.  All she ever is is a complete cunt-rag to me.  After our parents’ die, and we get through probate, we will likely never speak again.  Fine by me!  Let our familial connection die out and we go our separate ways.  Will save me a lot of headache.

In the end, I just want to be the jerk that everyone claims I’m not.  I don’t do good things because I want to!  I do them because I feel like it would be a bigger inconvenience if I didn’t!  Like when my aunt was at the hospital and stayed with her while my uncle was in surgery.  If ANYONE else had shown up, I would have left!  I hadn’t eaten dinner yet.  I was hungry and wanted to go home!  My being there at that time was a fucking accident!  And she had to pile on the fucking hero worship after that.  It pissed me off.  Just acknowledge I did something nice and move on.  Just a simple thanks, and we go about our day.  But no!  Down the road, she sees how negative I am online and gets so pissed because she took that initial interaction is what I am really like.  I was a LOT meaner than I should have been when I lost my cool about what happened that night, but it needed to be said.

Being an adult fucking sucks, and I am sick of it.  Sick of everything.  Sick of being alive.  But there’s no other option.  I don’t have the guts to take the quick way out.

Until next time, a quote,

“You gotta kiss some serious booty to get ahead in this world.  Man, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.  See, I like to take the one-knee approach.  It puts the booty, like, right in front of the lips.” – Capt. Jimmy Wilder, Independence Day

Peace out,

Maverick

RAB: The Nature of This Medium

I have been writing on this website since 2009.  This website of mine has been my baby for over nine years.  I remember the first thing I wrote.  Back in the days when I wanted to be a legit journalist, before realizing how dead the medium has become, I went to the rally that was had as a response to the Glenn Beck/Sarah Palin event in my city.  It was a perfectly civil event where you had people with signs, slogans, and all-around quirkiness all over.  For the days when liberal protests were known for their civility, and not their violence.  How far we have come.

Covering that event was fun.  I met a ton of people, some of whom still recognize me to this day and say hello on the off-chance that we run into each other.  Some of them became part of my circle going through college.  None of those who went that route are in my circle anymore.  For whatever reason, we fell out.

However, went I look back at that post, you know what the first thing that catches my eye is – how raw and amateur the writing is in comparison to what I do now.  The days when I was a young idealist, looking to change the world.  Yeah, I was kinda pretentious in those days.  Look me in the eye and tell me that you weren’t.  As I got this website started, I never figured that I would have an audience.  I figured that I was just languish in obscurity with only a few people reading and enjoying my perspective on whatever issue comes before me that I feel is worth commenting on.

Nine years later, I have come a VERY long way.  On WordPress alone, I am creeping up on 900 subscribers.  That doesn’t include the people who aren’t on this platform who I know follow my site.  Some of them are family.  One of them is a coworker of my mother’s, who I find out can be very strongly opinionated on some of the things I comment on, but has never left a comment herself.  Hell, my new boss follows my site!  He tells me about how much he has enjoyed my outspoken perspective, even though I know that him and I see the world differently in a few ways.  He likes the passion and the way I tend to blaze about the things that annoy me or the nerdom that I talk about on the regular.  That makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

But I know that this medium is never going to be a big one.  There are thousands upon thousands of blogs, with the vast plethora of them being incessant drivel that nobody reads.  I know that the written word is a dying medium, and I am probably going to be one of the very last who still does it religiously the way I do.  This website has been so much to me.  It’s been where I get to rail against religion and how I think belief in a deity is an outdated values system from antiquity that has somehow stayed on in the age of reason.  It’s been where I could rail against whatever political thing comes my way that I think is worth talking about.  It’s been where I can talk about whatever nerdy thing catches my eye, rave about the things I love, trash what I hate, and rage about the politicization of my nerdy hobbies.  This place has also been a confidant of mine when life is really ugly and I am needing to get shit off my chest.

As I see what is happening to mediums like YouTube, and seeing the homogenization of new media, I think about how I am one of the people who still sticks around old media.  This format, without any mainstream appeal, where I have somehow been able to eek out this audience of people who still come and read what I have to say, even though they may not always agree with it.  And I know that there are those who have come and gone.  There is an ebb and flow to this stuff.  Every so often I’ll get the people who, for a time, hit the “Like” on everything I write, regardless of subject.  There are those who always like certain kinds of posts or those on certain subject matter.  Helps me know who I engage with most.  Even have those who come and go and comment on most everything.  I enjoy my time with all of those people, because it reminds me that there is a small, dedicated community on this page.

This really is a random assortment of bullshit, because I genuinely don’t know where I was going with this.  I guess it’s just saying that I am aware that I’m lucky, in that I have a loyal audience of people who find whatever I have to say worth reading.  This always strikes me as odd because (and this is something not many people know, until now) I have this irrational belief that everyone I know secretly hates me and can’t stand to be around me.  Yet here people are, engaging and reading and liking what I have to say.

I don’t really know what I want from life.  I have this general idea of what I’m doing, but the specifics and where all of this ends is totally a mystery.  At least in the sense of having a clear direction.  I’ve been really depressed lately when interview after interview after interview goes absolutely nowhere, and it doesn’t feel like I’m making a dent.  Hell, the first place to actually do reference checks for me didn’t hire me.  In the end, it was just about experience.  Which bugged me because I’m thinking to myself – why did they bother with the reference checks?  If it was just about experience anywhere, then why bother?  Why not just hire someone based on experience and skip the bullshit interview process altogether?

My friends don’t really talk to me when I’m down like this.  Super sick too, so there’s that.  But in general, when I’m depressed, they tend to be very distant.  I guess it gets to the point that they don’t know what to say anymore.  So better to say nothing, right?  Is that typical?  Probably.

So, as I listen to LoFi music that is to relax and study to (I’d like to thank Lt Corbis for introducing me to this stuff), and ruminate on how far I have come in a medium that is very dead in comparison to where it was, I am grateful to those of you who are still here, reading my assortments of nonsense and getting something from it.  You all mean a lot to me.

Until next time, a quote,

“From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.”
— Edgar Allan Poe, from “Alone”

Peace out,

Maverick

Adulthood Sucks

Decided to do a personal post.  This is about the only place I can be honest with everyone.  In my real world interactions, I basically choose not to talk to anyone, because everywhere I fucking look, it’s people not wanting to talk to me because I’m not super positive guy.  And if you aren’t blowing sunshine up someone’s ass, you are worth talking to.  That’s my life now.  Just avoiding people because if you aren’t happy, NOBODY wants to talk to you.  Everyone avoids you.  It’s just the world we live in.  Right now, I’m getting real sick of that.  Sick of life, and all the bullshit that goes with it.

I hate adulthood.  I fucking despise it.  If I got a time machine, I would go back and tell young me to savor his youth as long as he possibly could.  Of course, my youth ended kinda fast.  See, I had this head injury when I was 14 that fucked my life forever, and I had to grow up real fast.  There’s another thing I’d change.  I’d tell me not to go riding on a bike.  Just walk places.  Stay off that road.  Don’t get into sports.  Was a bad idea to start with.  I’d do a lot of things.

My rent is about to go up.  A lot.  I thought for a while it wasn’t so bad, but now that I see my new financial situation with a vehicle in my name, it just gets worse.  All of my finances are just shit, and my ability to save in any measure is pretty much fucked.  I keep running the numbers, over and over, in my head.  There’s no escape.  None.  I’m saddled with this endless cavalcade of bullshit.  It’s sucking the life out of me right now.

Had a million fucking interviews lately for jobs that pay better.  Getting real fucking tired of it, but can I stop?  Can I rest on my laurels?  I wish I could!  I like the team I’m with now.  They are awesome people.  But no!  I have to keep at this fruitless task, because a job that pays better is a requisite.  I can hear you saying – why not get two jobs?  I work 9-5, five days a week.  So what does that mean for my working?  It means I’d have to get a job I can work on weekends.  You know what that means – retail.  Because no other kind of employer only hires people part time on weekends.  With my medical issues, a job on my feet for hours on end is out.  So yeah, that’s out.

I remember thinking that when I was an adult, I could do what I wanted.  If I wanted something, since I knew I’d be working, I could buy it myself.  Christmas and birthdays would lose some of their child-like luster, but I was more and more enjoying the idea of just spending time with family.  Yeah, my list isn’t going to get any smaller this year.  Because buying things for myself is a cute idea!  Kinda like a vacation, or going to big events, or a social life, or fucking anything!

Doesn’t help that my personal life is another cute idea that died a long time ago.  I get all the ugly shit associated with adulthood, and none of the perks.  No love life.  No sex life.  No fucking anything!  Just getting up, going to work, coming home.  That’s my entire worthless, miserable life.  But you can’t tell that to people.  Because then you get the patronizing bullshit calls or something of “are you okay?”  No!  But what are you gonna do about it?!  I can’t even afford to go long distance to the family because gas ain’t cheap either!  Fuck!

I am so fucking tired of nothing working in my favor.  I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again – where can I cash in on this fucking privilege that these SJWs claim I have in such abundance?  I have white privilege, tall privilege, male privilege, and this is really a thing, smart privilege.  I guess we should extol the virtues of being stupid.  There’s an American thought for ya.  Well tell you what, who do I have to talk to in order to get all the perks?!  I will go there right now and find the nearest minority and rub their nose in these perks!  I want my perks!  Where the fuck are they?!  I have had to fight and scratch and claw and bleed to get ANYWHERE in my life!  So where the fuck can I get these imaginary perks that people say I have?!  Please, tell me where to go.  I will go there.  Today!  Right now!

Bust my fucking ass, and for what?!  So I can have nobody to talk to about why things are hard right now?!  Because everyone ignores me like the fucking plague because I’m negative?!  “Lucien, nobody likes a downer.”  Well then, I guess I get to be alone for the rest of my life.  However long that ends up being.  I take stupid risks just to feel…anything.  I have no fear of death.  Hell, I welcome it.  Am I suicidal?  Damn right!  Only difference is that I have somewhere I have to get to before I can do that.  I refuse to let my life end in this miserable apartment in this miserable city in this fucking icebox state where winter takes up seven months out of the goddamn year.

Every day I do my very best to be the best at whatever I do.  Where has it gotten me?  Nowhere.  It’s gotten me failed relationships, failed friendships, and the subtle realization that one day I will wake up and I’ll be 40 and I’ll probably be in the same goddamn place doing the same goddamn thing.  This is my life!  I fucking hate adulthood.  I would give my last 30 years to be able to go back and enjoy being a kid all over again.  Because looking at the future gives me a fucking headache.  Looking at the past feels pretty alright.

Until next time, a quote,

“‘What’s your favorite childhood memory?’ Not paying bills.” – Anonymous

Peace out,

Maverick

My Bloody Nightmare

The buildings are all made of white stone.  It’s so beautiful to look at, if it wasn’t for what i had to see.  Cobbled stonework on the streets.  It’s a maze of narrow pathways which my feet are running through.  Tripping, stumbling over things, or my own two feet.  My balance has been terrible since my head injury.  Narrow roads, narrow stairs, narrow doors, all shut tight.  Star shimmering above, and a bright moonlight out.  In any other reality, this would be beautiful.  But not in this one.  Not for me.  It’s horrifying.  I’m trapped in Hell.

Tripping again, looking up, I see a girl.  A look of gut-wrenching terror on her face, with her belly torn open and her innards strewn about.  It almost looked like she was trying to put things back in.  What could have done this?  Have to get up.  Have to keep moving.  I can feel something approaching, and I don’t want to be there when it arrives.  All that matters is getting out of this place.

A maze of narrow corridors, with awning overhead that are grown over with vines.  Is there no way out of here?!  I bang on doors, try to open any of them, but they are either locked, or destroyed.  Fire is pouring out of a window.  Turn a corner, blood everywhere.  Like a person was standing there and just exploded.  Viscera leaking down the beautiful white stone.  This can’t be real.  It has to be a bad dream.  But it feels so real.

There’s the wind on my face.  It’s warm.  So warm.  Salty.  A sea breeze!  That means there’s an ocean!  I have to get there.  Follow the scent, get to the sea, then get the fuck out of here.  That presence I’ve been feeling, it’s getting closer.  I know that it is.  Something is very wrong here, and I can’t be here when it decides to come knocking.

Turning the corner again.  An open area between several buildings.  Three ways to go.  Which one is it?!  That’s when I see something.  A little boy, couldn’t be more than six or seven.  He’s ripped in half, with one half in one place, the other far away.  Did something throw the pieces of this poor kid away?  Like he was a piece of trash.  What sort of person could do this?!  But it couldn’t be a person.  I know that.  This is too violent.  Too ugly.  Some kind of beast had done this.  Claw marks all over the cobbled stone streets.  I know I’m right.  I always am.

Finally, I decide to pick a direction.  If I stop running, whatever did this will catch up.  The presence feels even closer now.  It’s gaining on me!  Everything in my body is aching.  My breath is pouring out with such excruciating pain, like the bellows.  But I can’t stop.  Tripping again.  Over a head!  A young woman, with beautiful black hair.  Eyes wide in fear, like the other.  Pushing myself up, I see a man’s body through the window.  It’s got no head, with blood leaking out of the stump facing me.  So horrible.  What kind of creature would do this?  Was I the only one left?

Going faster and faster.  The smell of the breeze is getting closer.  I can feel it now!  Hope, at last.  Just a little bit, but it’s enough.  All I need to keep moving.  More blood.  It’s everywhere.  Pieces of bodies all over the place.  Slip on an organ, but keep on my feet.  Then I see where a man’s body lies.  He is holding an ax.  Was he trying to fight the creature?  Clearly he lost.  Front ripped open from head to pelvis.  It’s like a dissection from the front.  Can’t stay here.  A little further, and a woman also on the ground.  Was that man trying to save them?  Did he try and fight to buy them time?  There’s a giant hole in her head, like from where a claw would go into, so clearly that failed.  Then the worst of it comes to light.  The body of a little girl.  Looking like she was chomped down on, with the top part missing.  From the chest up, gone.

Now my path is taking me up stairs.  Up?!  That isn’t where I want to go.  But I can’t turn around.  If I do, I’m heading closer to whatever did this, not further.  No choice but to go on this road.  A window covered in blood, from the inside.  Whoever was in there is dead now.  Old, coagulated blood.  What happened to this place?  Up and up and up, with more blood and ripped open bodies.  My body is screaming at me, 1000 promises of pain and horror.  Have to keep going!  Can’t stop!

Then I get to the top of the path, and I see that I’m on a roof.  There’s a cliff in front of me, with the water down below.  Should I jump?  No way.  That water would turn to a concrete floor by the time I land.  But there’s nowhere else to go.  I’m trapped.  Turning, I see across this white stone city.  Smoking coming up, fires burning without anyone to stop them, signs of dead bodies all over.  Was the entire city dead?!  How could a creature do this much damage?!

A noise.  Crashing, smashing, moving.  Claws on stone, slashing at everything.  It was getting close.  Coming up the stairs, faster and faster.  It knew that its quarry wasn’t far.  I could almost feel the giddiness from it, as it was going to get another meal.  Happily bounding toward me, and all I could think about was how fucked I am.  It rounds a corner, and I see hanging from it’s long, spear-like claws are bodies.  Little bodies that are torn open.  It holds its hand up to its head and bites down.  Blood drips down.

There are no words to describe this creature.  I could only see it’s silhouette.  Tall, in a way I had never seen before.  It stood like a man, with such long, gangly arms, along with gangly legs.  It was lanky.  Head, smooth, with a grotesque smile on its face.  On each hand was long, thin, bladed fingers.  Each finger had a new disgusting nightmare of flesh.  Most of it was dead.  There was one that wasn’t fully.  Writhing, trying to get away.  A young man with a look of horror on his face.  No escape for him.  Just horrifying death and pain.  I felt for him.

Now it was after me.  I could see the look in its eyes.  I was its next victim, and there was nothing I could do.  Looking back, at the sea.  The only way out.  There was literally nowhere else to go.  I could jump and die, or get ripped to pieces by that thing and die.  The choice basically made itself.  I turned back, chuckling to myself, then flipped that fucker off.  That’s when I jumped.

In a flash, it was rushing forward.  I was falling, fast.  Like a stone, headed to the floor.  It’s long, sick arm reached out for me, but as it tried to stab with one of it’s sick fingers, Lady Luck smiled upon me.  I had gone too far.  It screamed in rage as all it could do was watch.  Now I turned to face the water, coming up with speed.  This was it.  I would die.  At least not the way all these people had.

Then, as I hit the water, I wake up.

Until next time, a quote,

“Monsters don’t sleep under your bed.  They sleep inside your head.” – Anonymous

Peace out,

Maverick

My Magic Realm

In my dreams, sometimes I see a special realm that is just for me.  It doesn’t conform to the rules of this world.  This cold, unfeeling world.  It’s a special place, and I alone have access to it.  A world where all my hopes and dreams exist and I can live the life that I want to live.  Sometimes the days are pretty, sometimes they aren’t, but no matter what, that place is still warm and inviting to me.  I don’t have to be afraid of life.  Let me tell you about it.  Maybe you can understand.

In that place, I’m not afraid of my finances.  I’m not bone-dead terrified of the fact that I’m kicking 30 in the ass and I don’t have any kind of career going.  The future is a fun thing to think about, not a scary one.  Medical bills aren’t the end of the world.  They are an issue, sure, but one that I can overcome with enough planning.  I have a car I really want and it’s super awesome.  Sometimes I just go driving places that I haven’t been before, just to see what’s over that.  It’s a great time.  I can afford to eat healthier and I have a fully stocked kitchen.  My home is an actual house, not some shitty apartment in a shitty part of a shitty town.

That’s another thing – my place is on the ocean!  Each day I wake up to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.  My amazing kitchen has a view of the ocean and I get to sit on my porch watching the sun set every night.  It’s pretty awesome.  The salty breeze telling me stories of all sorts of adventures that are yet to be had.  And I don’t have to worry about money.

Because I have a cool job that I really like.  A job where I get to analyze information and share the conclusions I come to and the predictive models of that info with people.  It’s hard work, but at the end of the day I get to go home and really feel like I accomplished something.  I get to show off my intellect that I have worked so hard to refine after I nearly lost everything because of a head injury all those years ago.

Speaking of, in my magical realm, my head injury hasn’t left me a glass human being, one knock to the skull away from losing it all.  My neck isn’t fused and I can feel my feet.  I get to walk through the grass at my place.  One of my favorite things is to mow that.  Back at my parent’s place, one of my favorite activities was being on the riding mower and just losing myself to the act of mowing grass.  That was loads of fun.  It doesn’t sound like it, but it is.

In my realm, there are tons of people who come over and who ask me how I am.  People don’t see my depression as something to avoid.  They accept who I am and do their best to have a good time because they know that I will do all I can to make sure they have fun.  I love to make tasty food and show off.  I’m a damn good cook.  You have no idea.  Got probably one of the few real friends I have left who comes over for dinner every now and again, and I fucking kick ass every time.  I keep joking that if I fuck it up, we’ll have pizza and be sad, but I never do.  Lady Luck decides not to fuck with me on those nights.  It’s pretty great stuff.  People have abandoned me en masse.

Coming home every day, I don’t just have my empty fridge.  There’s a couple awesome kitties who I get to greet.  They’s super sweet.  One of them is white and orange, with this big fluffy tail.  It loves to swim.  The second one is grey with black stripes and spots.  I’ve known her all my life, and in that place she’s still there.

In that place, I have a person that I am seeing.  It’s been going on for a while, and I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.  She’s this really cool girl I’ve known for most of my life.  We grew up together, and when I told her how I felt, she was really surprised, but then came back to me later and said she thought it was worth exploring.  The rest has been really exciting history.  Thinking about one day having a kid with her.

It’s a magical place.  Too bad it isn’t real.  Waking up on those nights fucking sucks, because all reality does is trample down on me.  I hate my life.  Not a fan of being alive, but since there’s nothing after you die, I’m kind of stuck in this game.  But who knows.  Maybe one day I’ll wake up and I can be that other person.  That person in that place, who isn’t me.  Who is some other guy.  Someone that people can like and get along with.

It’s a nice thought.

Until next time, a quote,

“I…I hate myself.” – Anna Sasaki, When Marnie Was There

Peace out,

Maverick

Let’s Answer 100 Easy Ways to Make Women’s Lives More Bearable

Because women have it so fucking hard.  Especially in the First World.  While women in Africa get their genitals mutilated, and women in the Middle East are subject to ACTUAL misogyny courtesy of a religion that teaches that it’s perfectly acceptable to beat them if they get out of line, because the man is stronger than the woman and it is his place to tell her what’s-what.  That’s Islam, in case you didn’t know.  A religion that the left suck’s the cock of, which just baffles me since they call everything under the sun sexist.  I guess SyeTenAtheist was right after all.  But don’t you worry, men.  There is a list published of 100 ways to make women’s lives “more bearable.”  I’m sure this isn’t going to be the cringiest thing ever.  Nope, not even a little.  Here’s a link to it, now let’s get on with this.

1. Before explaining something to a woman, ask yourself if she might already understand. She may know more about it than you do.

I don’t explain things to people unless they ask.  I don’t give a fuck if they are ignorant.  I’m perfectly fine with letting people wallow in their own stupidity.  I live in America, after all.  Dumb ain’t hard to find here.  If she is asking for me to explain something, then she wants to know about it and I have been given an answer to if she knows more about it than I do.

2. Related: Never, ever try to explain feminism to a woman.

Here’s my explanation – a values system that has been horribly twisted into a PC buzzword battle here in the First World, but would be very useful in the Third World.  Like in countries where women have to wear a burka or else they get beaten, and where if a woman claims to be raped and she doesn’t have three witnesses, she’s a lying whore and can be beaten by law.  Countries like that could use it.

3. Trans women are women. Repeat that until you perish.

They identify as women, and I have no problem with that.  Identify as whatever you like, sugar-tits.  If they haven’t completely transitioned, then they are still biologically male, but they can identify as female and I have no issue.  Doesn’t bother me or even concern me in the slightest.

4. RESPECT PEOPLE’S PRONOUNS. It’s not hard.

I couldn’t agree more!  My pronouns are master/master/master.  So when you talk about me, it has to be “master said that I’m stupid.”  By the way, what does this have to do with making women’s lives more bearable?  This seems like a pet peeve of yours that has nothing to do with women as a larger demographic.

5. Remember that fat women exist and aren’t all trying to get thin. Treat them with respect.

I treat everyone the way I would want to be treated.  The Golden Rule.

6. In fact, just never comment on a woman’s body.

If she asks for my opinion, I’m going to give it.  If she doesn’t like the answer, she shouldn’t have asked the question, should she have?

7. Be kind to women in customer service positions. Tip them extra. (But not in a creepy way.)

I tip people in customer service based on their quality of service.  If my waitress is doing poorly, she’s getting a bad tip.  Sorry, not sorry.

8. Trust women. When they teach you something, don’t feel the need to go and check for yourself. And especially do not Google it in front of them.

Um, no.  If I hear some female tell me that women have magical wings attached to their butts, I’m going to Google right in front of them and show them that there is ZERO evidence of that contention.  If you say something stupid in front of me, I’m going to revel in showing how dumb you are.  Granted, if I know that a woman is an expert on something, I will listen with rapt attention.  Like how my girly-mate in the Navy talks about military life, I find it engrossing beyond belief.

9. Don’t maintain a double standard for… anything, ever.

Oh boy does that not bode well for feminism.  Hey, how’s that double-standard about if a partner is drunk during sex it’s rape?  Only applies to women in every single piece of propaganda I have heard about it.  Or if you don’t ask for consent every ten minutes, it’s rape.  If she initiated sex with you and she doesn’t keep asking, is it rape?  There are a LITANY of double-standards associated with modern, First World feminism that you lot are perfectly happy to ignore.

10. CLOSE YOUR LEGS ON PUBLIC TRANSIT, OH MY GOD.

If there is someone looking to sit, I’ll move.  If there’s no one around, I’ll let my balls have some room.  Your ignorance on male anatomy is quite something.

11. Trying to describe a woman positively? Say she’s “talented,” “clever,” or “funny.” Not “gorgeous,” “sweet,” or “cute.”

If she is being talented or clever, I’ll say that.  If she is trying something on or doing her makeup and is looking for validation that it looks good, I’ll tell her she’s cute or gorgeous or any number of positive attributes associated with one’s appearance.  Don’t fucking tell me how to talk to my people, bitch.

12. Examine your language when talking about women. Get rid of “irrational,” “dramatic,” “bossy,” and “badgering” immediately.

No.  If that’s what they’re being, I’ll call them out on it.  Sorry if that bugs you (not really).

13. Don’t think to yourself, I describe men like that too. A) You probably don’t. B) If you do, it’s to criticize them for acting like a woman.

Um, no.  I describe them as such if they’re being irrational, dramatic, bossy, or badgering.  I don’t associated adjectives with exclusively one gender.  Stop forcing your beliefs and values system on me.  I don’t appreciate it.

14. Do you love “fiery” Latina women? “Strong” Black women? “Mysterious” Asian women? Stop. Pick up a book on decolonial feminism. Read.

No again.  I love smart, nerdy, interesting, thoughtful, loyal, or empathetic Latina, black, or Asian women.  Don’t tell me how I think about these people.  You are really forcing your personal insecurities on everyone else with this.  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

15. Stop calling women “feisty.” We don’t need a special lady word for “has an opinion.”

Yeah, this is all just your personal insecurities.  I don’t describe women as feisty for having opinions.  I consider them feisty if they like it rough during sex.  If they have a lot of opinions, I consider them principled.

16. Recognize women’s credibility when you introduce them. “Donna is lovely” is much less useful than “Donna knows shitloads about architecture.”

What?  I’m not following.  I don’t introduce somebody as lovely.  I introduce them as my girly-mate who I know from work, or college, or grew up with, or who is in the Navy.  There are many terms I use to introduce people.  I’m not her agent.  It’s not my job to pimp out her credentials.  I believe she is smart and capable enough to do that on her own.  Way to show how “empowered” women are.

17. Think about how you describe the young women in your family. Celebrate them for being funny and smart, not for being pretty and compliant.

I have never raised being compliant as a virtue to extol.  If the person is smart or funny, I will refer to them as such.  If they are dumb as shit but look good, I’ll say they’re pretty.  I’m not gonna give people credit they haven’t earned.  America does that too much as it is.

18. Examine the way you talk about women you’re attracted to. Fat women, old women, queer, trans, and powerful women are not your “guilty crush.”

I don’t have “guilty crushes.”  I have women I am attracted to.  Sounds like you are forcing more of your insecurities on people.  Don’t put that on me.

19. Learn to praise a woman without demonizing other women. “You’re not like other girls” is not a compliment. I want to be like other girls. Other girls are awesome.

Boy is this telling about the feminist mindset.  You don’t want to be unique.  You want to be a fucking hive mind.  Good to know.  Go join the Borg, bitch.  As for me, I extol people who are unique.  The biggest insult I can give for someone is to call them plastic.  Fake.  Just like everybody else.

20. Share writing by women. Don’t paraphrase their work in your own Facebook post to show us all how smart or woke you are. I guarantee the woman said it better in the first place.

I’ll share the writing of women when I find it worth sharing.  And typically if I share someone’s post, I’ll just be hitting share.  So yeah, that is dumb.

21. Buy sanitary pads and tampons and donate them to a homeless shelter. Just do it.

No.  Don’t tell me what to do with my money.

22. How much of what you are watching/reading/listening to was made by women? Gender balance your bookcase.

No!  Tell you what, you find me some great female science fiction, fantasy, or corporate espionage fiction and recommend it to me, I’ll check it out.  I judge works based on the works, not who wrote or directed them.  If that’s a problem, too fucking bad.  Go write some good literature or direct some good movies.  I’ll be right here.

23. Feeling proud of your balanced bookcase? Are there women of color there? Trans, queer, and disabled women? Poor women? Always make sure you’re being intersectional.

Oh fuck off.

24. Don’t buy media that demeans women’s experiences, valorizes violence against women, or excludes them entirely from a cast. It’s not enough to oppose those things. You have to actively make them unmarketable.

Examples, bitch.  And don’t say GTA V, because I already don’t own that.  I don’t buy GTA games because if you’ve played one of them, you’ve played them all.  It’s boring.  Tell you what, you list things that you think fit this category and I’ll tell you if I partake of them or not.  And if I do like them, I will be happy to debate with you why I think they are perfectly acceptable.  Good luck.

25. Pay attention to stories with nuanced female characters. It will be interesting, I promise.

I do like nuanced female characters.  I also like nuanced male characters too.  I like characters in my stories to feel human.  How about you?

26. If you read stories to a child, swap the genders.

No

27. Watch women’s sport. And just call it “sports.”

I hate sports

28. Withdraw your support from sports clubs, institutions, and companies that protect and employ rapists and abusers.

I’m glad you brought this up.  So you withdrew your support from Feminist Frequency, correct?  She has a pedophile called Valis77 as her mod on her streams.  Live up to your own standards, bitch.

29. Stop raving about Woody Allen. I don’t care if he shits gold. Find a non-accused-abuser to fanboy over.

I’m not gonna stop liking his films just because of the fact that he has been accused of things.  I am not gonna stop liking films Kevin Spacey was in either.  I can separate the art from the artist.  It’s why I think Ashly Burch is a great voice actress, even though she has retarded-ass opinions and is an SJW.

30. It’s General Leia, not princess. The Doctor has a companion, not an assistant. It’s Doctor Bartlett, not Mrs Madame First Lady.

It’s First Lady Bartlett, bitch.  You’re adding additional honorifics where none were required.  English is hard, apparently.  For you.

31. Cast women in parts written for men. We know how to rule kingdoms, go to war, be, not be, and wait for Godot.

No.  This is another instance of you asking other people to do what you can do yourself.  If you want to have films with women in male roles, go direct them.  Feminists want the rest of the world to do everything for them.  At least the creators of Steven Universe took their SJW ideology and ran with it.  Got infinitely more respect for them than you.

32. Pay for porn.

Sometimes I do.  There are vids from my favorite pornstars they make on Manyvids that I can’t get anywhere else.  The women who prove their chops in porn earn my dough, not just anyone.

33. Recognize that sex work is work. Be an advocate for and ally to sex workers without speaking for them.

I love how you make it impossible to agree with you by adding shit on that wasn’t necessary.  As an example – I do support sex workers.  I want to legalize prostitution so we can get it off the street and help get women away from pimps.  Get establishments that are professional and can be kept safe from STDs and violence.  But you had to add on stupid bullshit about not speaking for them.  I don’t claim to, bitch.  I claim to support their right to have their world legally recognized and regulated.  Fuck.  Feminists make it so hard to agree with them on anything because they have to be so fucking combative in their approach to EVERYTHING.

34. Share political hot takes from women as well as men. They might not be as widely accessible, so look for them.

I follow plenty of women on Twitter with political opinions that run the gamut.  I like nuance in my life.  Do you?

35. Understand that it was never “about ethics in journalism.”

Yeah it was.  Your piss-poor knowledge of history is not my fault.

36. Speak less in meetings today to make space for your women colleagues to share their thoughts. If you’re leading the meeting, make sure women are being heard as much as men.

I never speak in meetings unless I have to.  Don’t have anything to add.  Unless of course snark becomes an attribute that workplaces appreciate.  Granted, if I have a question, I will ask, because I want to learn.  And by the way, at every meeting I have attended, the one leading it has been a woman.  The ratio of men to women in my office is totally XX sided.

37. If a woman makes a good point, say, “That was a good point.” Don’t repeat her point and take credit for it.

Nobody does this.  Nobody, anywhere, does this.  This is in the magical “Shit The Never Happens Land.”

38. Promote women. Their leadership styles may be different than yours. That’s probably a good thing.

If I am running a business, or am in a managerial capacity to promote people at a business, I’ll promote a woman if she is qualified.  If she has proven that she has the capabilities to be promoted.  I judge people individually.  Sorry if that’s a problem (no I’m not).

39. Recruit women on the same salary as men. Even if they don’t ask for it.

Um, no.  Salary negotiations is a skill. It’s one that has to be proven.  I believe that women can measure up, they just have to be better about taking that risk.  It’s science that women are more averse to risk-taking.  That’s not my problem.  You go on and on about how biology is just a construct.  Here’s a chance to prove that.

40. Open doors for women with caring responsibilities by offering flexible employment contracts.

No.  If I am an employer and I have very specific requirements for this position, and they can’t meet those or are unable to work under the requirements specified, that’s on them.  Again, I believe there are plenty of women who are eager to prove themselves who will be up to the challenge.  I love how this whole section devoted to business is basically talking down to women.  Gotta love modern feminism.

41. If you meet a man and a woman at work, do not assume the man is the superior for literally no reason.

I assume that anyone could be a superior at work.  That’s part of why I am courteous in general.  I don’t want to make a bad impression on someone who may have power over me at some point.

42. If you’re wrongly assumed to be more experienced than a woman colleague, correct that person and pass the platform to the woman who knows more.

I have a coworker in my department right now who I direct people to all the time because she has been there vastly longer than I have and if they have questions I figure she can handle them better.  I don’t make some big deal about it.  The only reason they come to me in the first place is because I sit closer to the door and people are lazy.

43. Make a round of tea for the office.

No.

44. Wash it up.

No!

45. If you find you’re only interviewing men for a role, rewrite the job listing so that it’s more welcoming to women.

This is so fucking patronizing to women.  Hey ladies, you are afraid of working at a job because the listing is scary!  Yeah, that doesn’t talk down to women at all.  Unbelievable.

46. Make sure you have women on your interview panel.

If there is a woman at the office who I believe has the criteria to judge who is qualified for the position, then absolutely.  They may not have knowledge of certain things that are involved with this position that would exclude an applicant.  If not, then no.

47. Tell female colleagues what your salary is.

No.  I am under no obligation to tell anyone what my salary is.  Nor should I be expected to.

48. Make sure there’s childcare at your events.

If it’s a family event, sure.  If not, like a Christmas party or something, babysitters exist.  I wanna watch Kelly get drunk and dance naked on the copier with the adults.

49. Don’t schedule breakfast meetings during the school run.

If the meeting is at the start of business, odds are it’s either at 8 or 9.  Not my fault that most schools start then.  If they work for me, they know to already be there at that time anyway.  So they would have already dropped their kids off.  That’s the price you pay for being a parent with a career.  You have to make sacrifices.  They could choose not to have the kid.

50. If you manage a team, make sure that your employees know that you recognize period pain and cystitis as legitimate reasons for a sick day.

If they have the leave hours, fine.  If they don’t, then they don’t get paid.  That’s how leave works in any business I would run.

51. If you have a strict boss (or mom or teacher) who is a woman, she is not a “bitch.” Grow up.

You can be strict without being a bitch.  Plenty of teachers I have looked up to have been just that.  There is a stark difference between a strict and effective leader, and a bitch who just wants to be in charge.  I’m sorry nobody told you that.

52. Expect a woman to do the stuff that’s in her job description. Not the other miscellaneous shit you don’t know how to do yourself.

You ever see those sections on job listings saying there may be other tasks as required?  That’s why.  Because sometimes you get stuck at a job doing the ramshackle shit that has to be done.  If I am a supervisor, then I will assign it.  But they are free to ask for assistance if there is confusion on the task or if they need training.

53. Refuse to speak on an all-male panel.

No.

54. In a Q&A session, only put your hand up if you have A QUESTION. Others didn’t attend to listen to you.

Guess what, nimrod, if I’m at a panel that is a Q&A and I put my hand up, it’s because I have a fucking question!  Condescending bitch.

55. If you have friends or family members who use slurs or discriminate against trans or non-binary people, sit them down and explain why they must stop. (This goes for cis women, too.)

No.  I believe in freedom of speech.  I may not like it, and if they ask if I agree with them on their usage of those slurs, I will tell them I do not, but I believe people are free to say whatever the fuck they want.  I’m not here to tell other people what to think.  Unlike you, I don’t want to be a part of a hive mind.  While I may not agree with some of my people all of the time, I believe that if everyone thinks the same, the world is really fucking boring.  I’m aware that that is something totally antithetical to your view of reality.  You want absolute homogeneity.

56. If you have friends or family members who use slurs or discriminate against women of other races, sit them down and explain why they must stop. (This goes for white women, too.)

See previous answer.

57. If you see women with their hands up, put yours down. This can be taken as a metaphor for a lot of things. Think about it.

Fuck you!  If I have a question, I’m gonna fucking ask!  If Linda asks the question I was going to, I’ll put my hand down, because I got my answer.  But if I want to learn something at work, I am going to fucking ask.

58. Raising a feminist daughter means she’s going to disagree with you. And probably be right. Feel proud, not threatened.

If I have a daughter, I am going to expose her to what a toxic, patronizing, sexist, dogmatic hive modern feminism is.  Believe you me, I will be exposing her to that, and it will be an eye-opening experience for her.

59. Teach your sons to listen to girls, give them space, believe them, and elevate them.

I’ll teach my sons and daughters to treat other people with empathy.  Unlike you, I don’t have a double-standard.  Which reminds me, you belief about not having double-standards, this list is a LITANY of them all on its own.  You are so full of shit.

60. Dads, buy your daughter tampons, make her hot water bottles, wash her bras. Show her that her body isn’t something to be ashamed of.

Honey, I have lived with a couple of women.  I’ve bought tampons for them, washed their clothes.  I am not afraid of girl stuff.  This is another belief that you have with no basis in reality.  As for showing her that her body is nothing to be afraid of, if I have a daughter, I will dread the day that we have “the talk,” and will hope her mother is still part of our family so she can take the reigns on it just because I am not good with awkward situations.  I would be just as awkward about my son.  Probably moreso, because I figure I can’t weasel my way out of that one and I am just fucked.

61. But dads, do not try to iron her bras. This is a mistake you will only make once.

No, I wouldn’t.  I’m not this retarded male stereotype you have in your head.

62. Examine how domestic labor is divided in your home. Who does the cleaning, the childcare, the organizing, the meal budgeting? Sons, this goes for you, too.

Here’s the thing, sugar-tits, if I have a partner that I’m living with, I figure the two of us would have an arrangement about how the household chores get done.  That’s part of being in a relationship – talking to your partner.  I’m sorry you never learned about that.

63. Learn how to do domestic tasks to a high standard. “I’d only do it wrong” is a bullshit excuse.

Oh look!  Another example of things from “Shit that Never Happens Land”!

64. Never again comment on how long it takes a woman to get ready. WE ARE TRYING TO MEET THE RIDICULOUS STANDARDS OF A SYSTEM YOU BENEFIT FROM.

Oh fuck off!  The ONLY people who care about how a woman looks are other women.  Period.  Or guys so vain that if you are with them in the first place you already accepted that.  Who do you think reads beauty magazines?  Who do you think judges the dresses of women at Hollywood awards shows?  It’s other women!  Men don’t care.  I don’t benefit since I tend to prefer women who like how they look naturally and aren’t so concerned with how everyone else thinks.  Self-confidence is a big turn-on in a romantic sense.  Sexual too.  I like a woman who knows what she wants in bed as well.

65. Challenge the patriarchs in your religious group when they enable the oppression of women.

I’m an atheist.  Doesn’t apply to me.

66. Challenge the patriarchs in your secular movement when they enable the oppression of women.

No such animal.  All of the male voices in the secular community I listen to are not sexist idiots like you.

67. Trust women’s religious choices. Don’t pretend to liberate them just so you can criticise their beliefs.

If they’ve embraced modern feminism, they are already a part of a church I don’t want into.  So yeah, I’m good on this too.

68. Examine who books your trips, arranges outings, organizes Christmas, buys birthday cards. Is it a woman? IS IT?

Hey bitch, I live alone.  Been single for a long time.  I have no money for trips.  That’s a nice dream I can have.  Outings?  Those happen when I have something I think looks like fun.  Organizes Christmas?  All me, honey.  I make the desserts like I did last year that were a smash hit.  Don’t buy birthday cards.  A waste of money.  So fuck off!

69. And if it is actually you, a man, don’t even dare get in touch with me looking for your medal.

I think you can suck a dick, bitch.  Or a lick a pussy.  I figure that’s more to your liking.

70. Take stock of the emotional labor you expect from women. Do you turn to the women around you for emotional support and give nothing in return?

Male or female, I do everything I can to support the people in my life, if they come to me.  I put a lot of effort into being a good friend.  I give and give and give, asking for nothing in return.  It has sucked the life out of me.  Makes how, when I am hurting and reach out, nobody seems to have the time of day hurt that much worse.  I believe in loyalty to whoever is in my life.  Too bad that it is a one-way street in my world.

71. Remember that loving your mom/sister/girlfriend is not the same as giving up your own privilege to progress equality for women. And that gender inequality extends beyond the women in your direct social group.

You were born with Original Sin!  Now enter the church of feminism and be cleansed in the name of Anita!

72. Don’t assume that all women are attracted to men.

I don’t.  I assume you aren’t.  But one of my favorite girly-mates is gay as the day is long.  So yeah, fuck off.

73. Don’t assume that a woman in public wants to talk to you just because she’s in public.

I tend to avoid talking to people in public on my own because I have crippling social anxiety.  But because I am taller than everyone and people come talk to me, you’d never know that.  When people talk to me, I am pretty great.  If someone doesn’t, I try to avoid making eye contact with them.

74. If a woman tells you she was raped, assaulted, or abused, don’t ask her for proof. Ask how you can support her.

I will tell her to go to the police, because I want the person who did that brought to justice.  See, my personal inclination to believe them due to a preexisting friendship needs to be negated by the issue being settled in a court of law.

75. If you see a friend or colleague being inappropriate to a woman, call him out. You will survive the awkwardness, I promise.

If someone is being a jerk to anyone, and I am familiar enough with them to approach them about it, I will.  It’s called being a good person.  And unlike you, I will do that if they are being that way to a man or a woman.  It’s called not having a double-standard, which you clearly do.

76. Repeat after me: Always. Hold. Men. Accountable. For. Their. Actions.

Actions, sure.  Words, no.  If it’s a potential crime, I’ll hold them accountable if they are found guilty of it.  I don’t believe in the court of public opinion that you all want to make.

77. Do not walk too close to a woman late at night. That shit can be scary.

Honey, I walk very slowly naturally.  I guarantee you that she is outpacing me.

78. If you see a woman being followed or otherwise bothered by a stranger, stick around to make sure she’s safe.

If I see someone about to attack her, I’ll step in.  Otherwise, I am not just going to make assumptions about a random person talking to a random female.

79. This should go without saying: Do not yell unsolicited “compliments” at women on the street. Or anywhere.

Again, crippling social anxiety.  But there’s nothing to be in quotations about.  I’m not yelling “nice titties!” to some female.  But if someone I know is out and about and I see them, I may wave or something to get their attention.  You all take anyone yelling things, no matter how innocuous, as a threat.  That’s on you, not us.

80. If you are a queer man, recognize that your sexuality doesn’t exclude you from potential misogyny.

Recognize that there has been plenty of misandry on this list.

81. If you are a queer man, recognize that your queer women or non-binary friends may not feel comfortable in a male-dominated space, even if it’s dominated by queer men.

They can go somewhere else.  I’m not forcing anyone to stay where I am.

82. Be happy to have women friends without needing them to want to sleep with you. The “friend zone” is not a thing. We do not owe you sex.

Got plenty of platonic women friends.  And the friend zone exists in that there are people who you see just as friends and not potential partners.  It’s not just men with “Nice Guy Syndrome” who invented that.  You seem to forget that there are women who can be in there too.  Plenty of women have guys they are interested in who don’t see them the same way.

83. Remember that you can lack consent in situations not involving sex—such as when pursuing uninterested women or forcing a hug on a colleague.

Wait, one of these things is not like the other.  Pursuing an uninterested woman?  Like how?  As in asking her out on a date?  Or asking if she wants to have sex?  What’s the problem?  So long as if she says no you don’t push it further, you did nothing wrong.  Can only woman approach men about dating or sex?  No wonder publications are asking why men are so pussy around women these days.  You promote it.

84. Champion sex positive women but don’t expect them to have sex with you.

I assume no woman, ever or will ever, wants to have sex with me.  My hatred of myself is a force of nature.

85. Trust a woman to know her own body. If she says she won’t enjoy part of your sexual repertoire, do not try to convince her otherwise.

I don’t do one-night stands.  I do do friends with benefits, back when I had people in my life who dug that.  If I am intimate with someone, I try and keep the lines of communication open.  There is also reading body signals, like being them being uncomfortable.  Unlike you, I think intimacy is a thing.  How I feel for the men who would get with people like you.  Those poor bastards.  They stuck their dick in crazy.

86. Be sensitive to nonverbal cues from women, especially around sex. We’re not just being awkward for no reason. (You read “Cat Person,” didn’t you?)

What do you know, I just talked about this.

87. It is not cute to try to persuade a woman to have sex with you. EVER. AT ALL. Go home.

Being the Roosh V kinda creeper, yeah, that isn’t cute.  But if you are in a serious relationship with someone and you want to talk about the idea of sex, it shouldn’t be off the table.  That being said, don’t be a creeper.  It’s a balancing act, one that has no clear answer.

88. Same goes for pressuring women to have sex without a condom. Go. Home. And masturbate.

If you are having sex with someone, communication is the point.  If you are having a one-night stand, you are an idiot if you don’t have a condom.  If you are in a serious relationship, there is no reason you can’t negotiate with your partner.

89. Accidentally impregnated a women who doesn’t want a kid? Abortions cost money. Pay for half of it.

And of the guys who wanted her to have the kid and don’t get a choice in the matter (I do support a woman’s rights to her body, but the lack of male options in getting to opt out of having a child is something I’ve talked about before)?  Not all men are pigs who don’t want to be a good father.  I’m aware you probably don’t believe that, but still.

90. Accidentally came inside a woman without protection? Plan B is expensive. Pay for all of it.

No.  Ladies, you took that risk if you had sex without protection.  If he didn’t have a condom, you could have opted out, or gotten birth control.  It’s not his fault that you didn’t take the due diligence to protect yourself.

91. Get STD tested. Regularly. Without having to be asked.

That goes both ways.  As someone who had to get tested because someone I was intimate with didn’t tell me about their sexual history (I am clean, thank Groj!), this is such a blatant double-standard.

92. Examine your opinion on abortion. Then put it in a box. Because, honestly, it’s completely irrelevant.

Already pro-choice.  Whatever.

93. Understand that disabled women are whole, sexual human beings. Listen to and respect them.

Wait…what?  I’m not even sure what this is talking about.

94. Understand that not all women have periods or vaginas.

Understand that if I am getting intimate with someone who identifies as a woman, and they have a dick, I’m not going to be attracted to them anymore.  That’s life.  Don’t like dicks on my women.

95. Believe women’s pain. Periods hurt. Endometriosis is real. Polycystic ovaries, vaginal pain, cystitis. These things are real. Hysteria isn’t.

Believe men’s pain.  Smashing your balls between your legs hurts.  A lot.  Not that you care.  Because you’re a bitch.

96. If a woman accidentally bleeds on you, try your absolute best to just keep your shit together.

I’ll be more annoyed about stains on my clothes than anything.  Blood don’t come out easy.

97. Lobby your elected officials to implement high quality sex education in schools.

Wow.  Something on this list that I agree with 100%.  Holy shit!  This is weird.

98. Uplift young Black and Indigenous girls at every possible opportunity. No excuses.

If they’ve earned it, sure.  If they haven’t, no.  And haven’t we talked about this already?

99. Do not ever assume you know what it’s like.

What what’s like?

100. Mainly, just listen to women. Listen to us and believe us. It’s the only place to start if you actually want all women to have a “Happy International Women’s Day.”

I don’t “listen and believe” anyone.  I don’t accept articles of faith.  I left the church for a reason.  Not looking to set up shop at yours

I am NEVER doing anything like this again.  There’s another list for people of color (I hate that term so much.  It’s an “of” and “ed” away from colored people), and I am not touching that with a ten foot pole.  This is so annoying.  I’m done.

Until next time, a quote,

“I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.” – Professor Farnsworth, Futurama

Peace out,

Maverick