I’m an intellectual snob, I admit it. This is not a good thing. It means that I fall for the same bullshit credentials over and over, especially regarding my, uhm personal life.

For the last decade or so, nearly every dude I have dated has a graduate degree of some sort, usually in some flavor of science. I just got tired of having to talk down to boys or to placate their egos when I turned out to know more about something than they did. At least if I was dating someone that educated, this would happen less often. Or that was the theory. In practice in means that while there are a thousand more subjects I can talk to them about, they are still mostly condescending douchenozzles who know more than the little lady.

So I found myself having this little conversation today with Mr. I have a PhD in economics and work as a very important negotiator. You all know where this is going already, doncha?

After being lectured that ‘we have the same goals but my hard approach isn’t the way to go’, I may have said something about how if his “let’s motivate the elites to treat people better” approach actually worked then I would have nothing to write about. And not coincidentally, I’d have no lovely readers (because if you all wanted to hear the same bullshit about how elites actually do contribute to society and we need to compromise with for them, then you’d be reading the Huffington Post or the Big Orange Cheetoh and praising the like of Camille fucking Paglia.)

The thing is, I don’t even think I’m that smart. I mean, yeah I pick up on stuff, but that’s just because I read a ton. I’m pretty sure that anyone could do it if they were interested enough. Obviously I keep dating the same types of dudes and am frustrated by their over-privileged view and under-developed sense of decency. (And no Aeryl, we didn’t even get far enough for me to ask if he was raised by a single mom or not.)

I’d say I give up, but we all know better. Thank the flying spaghetti monster that I’ve never seen marriage or a relationship as a requirement to a happy life, or I’d really be miserable.

For some reason I volunteered to help my dear friend (and laser boobie partner) Syyyyylllvvviiiaaa with blogging and promoting the Seattle Bicycle Music Festival. She organized it last year, and is doing it again this year. When I called to ask her for drinkies the other day she sounded a wee bit frazzled. So I opened my mouth and offered to help (I am actually way more enthused about it than my cynical posting suggests, but cynic, ya know?)

If you are local or near local, you should join us. You don’t have to be a bike geek (I’m not) you just should want to have some fun. If you know a business or organization that might want to contribute, email me.

Because fuck you I don’t care if the Shins are deeply uncool. I like them.

It’s the first of the revolutionary travel posters! And no, I will not be doing further lettering freehand again.

To Tata, who from across the country arranged for a microwave and a whole mess of awesome stuff to be delivered to my house today. I got a fancy red cast iron grill pan and a toaster. TOAST OMG it’s been so long since I had toast.
And to Aeryl, who sent a giant box of clothes for the Kid (including some ironic liquor shirts, a Bob Ross happy trees shirt and a Monty Python shirt) as well as a small library of books.

And because after a few years of feeling disconnected and untethered, I finally feel a little normal. I’m in less pain. I am back to being a little bit of a social butterfly (full butterfly effect takes a while). You peeps have kept me from the darkest of dark places. 

Now just because I’m grateful for the awesome things that I’ve got, doesn’t mean I’m not the angry Queen bitch you’ve come to know and hopefully love. 
(h/t to Renee for the link. And I’m pleased as punch that shit sandwich become a part of the anti-poverty lexicon. Remember folks, there is no difference between shit sandwich and shit sandwich with pickle).

Have you missed out on reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged? Do you feel a bit like an illiterate lump when people make fun of the book or those that are objectivists?

Fear not, my friends. Now there is an abridged version.

(But seriously, the abridged version is much better written than the original so I am not sure if you will really get the flavor of just how ridiculously bad the writing is. It’s worse than that time I read the free literature from Focus on the Family. It’s worse than Latawnya the crack pony.)

Throwing people off a plane because of the way they are dressed is pretty fucked up. Throwing 2 men off a plane because they are Muslim while those 2 men are on their way to a conference about prejudice against Muslims would be down-right funny if it wasn’t a true fact. But it is.

There are approximately 1.6 Billion Muslims in the world. The number of Muslims who have become terrorists is a number so small that it’s a tiny fraction of a percent of that number. The number of those Muslims that have become terrorists AND managed to commit an act of violence in America is a tiny fraction of a percent of that. There’s actually been way more acts of violence committed by White Christian Males in the US than by Muslims.

So perhaps the next time you see some douche in a “God Bless America” t-shirt with a cross around his neck, that is the dude you should be throwing off your plane. Because the math says he’s more likely to kill you than the 2 imams on their way to talk about racism.

RQ

So one more mother’s day thing. Though it’s more of a parenting in general thing.

I had to work really hard to overcome what I had learned as a child that a mother was. Mothers were screaming beasts who you could never do enough for. Mothers loved you sometimes and other times told you that they hated you and wished you’d never been born. I never saw myself as a mother when I was a kid because I never wanted to be that monster. And then I got pregnant and this kind of overwhelming sense of love and protection kicked me in the ass.

But just that overwhelming love isn’t enough to keep you from being a monster if all you’ve ever known is monsters. You have to work at it, really hard. You have to say to yourself, over and over that this is a person you love more than anything in the world and you wouldn’t want anyone, including yourself, to treat them badly. It wasn’t automatic. I’ve certainly forgotten myself a few times. But I admit my mistakes. I examine them and apologize for them and never repeat them once I’ve figured it out. It’s a grueling process. It is hard to look at yourself honestly and acknowledge your flaws. But it’s worth it.

So then I read this from Matt Damon’s mom, who knows a thing or 2 about children.

‘I tried to “let go of the rope” and get on the same side of problems with them and solve things from that shared place. This helped both Matt and Kyle develop a strong inner core of confidence and self love. They didn’t have to get distracted by power struggles with me. Granted, I was the parental authority in the home—I was a single parent—but I never had to impose my will on them.’

I like this. Letting go of the need to dominate a child is a big deal. You get all kinds of shit for it, treating a child like a full fledged human being with a will and a purpose of their own is considered child abuse by the “spare the rod and spoil the child” folks. Hell I get all kinds of grief for letting Kid be the introvert that he is and not forcing him into social situations that he hates.(I’ve not yet met an introvert who thinks that being forced to be social as a kid was good for them).

Right now Kid and I have been in the midst of a cleaning fest. Kid unloaded dishwasher while I picked up trash from unpacking boxes in the living room. Kid then picked up the little shit off the floor that I have a hard time reaching while I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen. This is how we work. I hate to nag. Really hate it. And he hates to be nagged. So we divide up the work and conquer. I do occasionally see him pulling the teenage trick of “oh I’ve forgotten how to do this chore I’ve done a thousand times” but rather than turning that into a giant power battle, I remind he that he knows how to do it and then drop it. His not wanting to do chores isn’t because he doesn’t love me, but because nobody likes doing chores.

This has become a long rambly post. Ooops. The point is that the Kid is a human being and that is more important than the fact that he is also my kid. I don’t own him. I give him

I’ve been seeing a lot of very thoughtful people talking about the death of bin Laden from a human rights point of view. And every point they’ve made is legit.

But…….

This wasn’t random joe gunned down in his house before we had proof of who he was or if he even had any involvement. Osama bin Laden openly and plainly declared war on us. He proudly took responsibility for deaths on our soil. What would the result of arrest and trial have done for us and him? He still would have been executed. But in the process he’d get a chance to spew more hate and gain more followers and his body would then become a shrine.

Until we can live in a warless, stateless world (and yes I am enough of a sucker idealist that I believe that can happen) then we have only a few options for justice and protection. In the imperfect world we have now, I am a champion of good intelligence work and surgical strikes against proven (that’s the key word, proven)enemies who have committed violent acts against us over full scale war, where innocent civilians die by the thousands so that a few assholes can die with them.

We never should have gone into Afghanistan, and the death of OBL proves that. He wasn’t killed in a traditional battle, but in a small action by a small team. he wasn’t killed in Afghanistan. (Though I do wonder if the drone strikes in Pakistan were part of the reason we got the intel about OBL to begin with. Were the drone strikes some form of International Uncle where we keep killing until they say enough?)

Don’t worry, I still don’t like Obama. But this is one of the only actions that I may actually agree with. We should now be able to pull out of Afghanistan since all pretense for war there is literally lost in the ocean (if you believe the reports) but I know that won’t happen.

I just got one of those compliments that at first glance seems like it’s ok but if you listen to the nagging, churning of your stomach you realize it’s really just some exceptionalist bullshit meant to keep well within patriarchial guidelines.

‘You look like one of those cool moms that’s a partner in crime with her son or her man. Not the garden variety Seattle area mother hen growing old in fleece pullovers and mom jeans and Birkenstocks and fanny packs! You know what I mean?’

My first reaction was to be the superbitch I know I can be and throw the same kind of “compliment” right back at him with a “wow you look like the kind of black guy who’s articulate and doesn’t show his ass in baggy jeans while listening to gangster rap! You know what I mean?” But he doesn’t know me and that kind of sarcasm would be lost without the fuller context. For the record both comments, his and mine, are tools of the patriarchy. So I refrained and you all get a post instead.

Compliments that aren’t really include some method of setting you up against your own group as better than. You are the exception. You’re supposed to be grateful because someone has just told you that you’re better than the group you belong to. In my case, mothers are supposed to be boring, sexless old kill-joys, but I’m hot and fun so I can be the superhero sidekick to a penis-waver! Sweet. All I have to do is agree that people like me suck, do everything I can to not be like people like me and maybe I can get a number 2 spot to a child or man.

There isn’t actually anything wrong with being a mother hen growing old in fleece and birkentstocks. That shit is comfy and I freely admit to spending more time than I should in yoga pants (though I don’t own birks, fleece or mom jeans. But that ain’t the point). There is also nothing wrong with being a black man who wears baggy pants and listens to gangster rap. (Though I’m not a fan of the misogynist rap, but again NOT THE POINT). The construction of compliments like this are meant to keep us isolated from others like us who might, I dunno, all come together to say “Fuck you and your crappy system! I don’t have to be pornorific hot all the time, or ever to be valued! I don’t have to shed all of my cultural markers just so that the oppressors find me worthy of second-class status!”

So instead of being straight up bitchy, this is what I sent back:

I’m sure you think that was a compliment. But it’s not actually all that different than if I said “Wow you’re articulate”. I don’t need to hear insults to other women to feel good about myself. Thanks for trying though.