animals, celebrities, complaints, condescending twatbags, social media

Wow! Who knew commenting on Facebook required sharing my resume?

The featured photo was taken in September 1988, right after my beloved Appaloosa pony, Rusty (Diamonds n’ Rust) and I won first place at the State 4H horse show in Richmond, Virginia. There were about seventy other ponies in that class. It was a great morning and a highly unexpected surprise to win first. Rusty bucked, but I guess the judge never saw it happen.

If you follow my blog, you probably know that I have a tendency to overshare sometimes. I often feel compelled to share the whole story, even if it’s not necessarily interesting or wise to do so. We all have lessons we could learn. I know I could use a few lessons in brevity. However, even someone who overshares, like I tend to do sometimes, can be surprised by other people’s expectations on social media platforms.

Before I get started, I will issue a half-hearted apology for the fact that my writing this week has been so much about stupid Facebook dramas. The good news is, I’m so annoyed by the responses I’ve gotten on recent comments I’ve made, that I now make a conscious effort to comment less. That could mean that I’ll move on to more hard-hitting or entertaining topics. One can only hope!

Anyway… on with today’s gripe.

A couple of days ago, Facebook suggested either a group or a page about Elizabeth Taylor. I honestly don’t know why it was suggested to me. I was never a big Liz Taylor fan. I mean, I certainly thought she was a beautiful woman, and as a horse crazy kid, I appreciated her performance in National Velvet. I do remember seeing her guest star on The Nanny, and I saw her in commercials for her perfumes and such, but I don’t know much about her acting career.

Liz Taylor was a little behind my era, and had done a lot of her most famous acting roles before I was born. I wasn’t into most old movies when I was growing up, aside from the major ones like Gone With The Wind, The Sound of Music, and The Wizard of Oz. When I was coming along, I heard more about her marriages, alcoholism, and celebrity activism, than anything else.

I think I was more familiar with her son, Michael Wilding Jr.’s, work as an actor. He was on Guiding Light and Dallas, back in the 80s, and I watched both of those shows.

Anyway, for some reason, Facebook suggested this Elizabeth Taylor page to me, along with a post about her love for horses. There was a picture of her, as an adolescent, with a horse– probably the one who starred with her in National Velvet. And there was a quote by her about how she’d learned to jump before making the movie, and had successfully jumped a six foot fence while riding bareback. She allegedly said it made her feel like she was flying.

As someone who literally spent a huge portion of my childhood in a barn, I find that story pretty hard to believe. Is it the truth? Maybe… but I still find it implausible. Not that many horses regularly jump six foot fences. Those that do tend to be very valuable jumpers. And, in all of my years around horses, I’ve never seen nor heard of anyone jumping at that height bareback… at least not on purpose! Could it have happened? I suppose. But I noticed a lot of people agreed with me that the story sounded a bit like bullshit. They were saying so in the comment section.

I added a casual comment to someone’s response, reminding everyone that National Velvet was made in 1944. So if she did try to jump six feet while bareback, it likely would have been extremely dangerous and foolish. She probably didn’t bother wearing a hat (helmet), and even if she did wear one, it was not as safe or effective as the ones that people wear today. If she tried such a stunt and was successful, she was damned lucky… and pretty stupid, in my opinion. But again… it’s just my opinion, and I realize I could be wrong.

“Velvet Brown, who do you think you ARE?”

When I left this comment, I was being totally casual. It was an offhand remark– the online equivalent of small talk. This is a very trivial issue to me, and not something I care to research or verify. Mainly, I was just gratified to see that I wasn’t the only one who was calling bullshit on the story’s veracity.

Naturally, people started tagging me in responses, reminding me that Liz Taylor allegedly started riding when she was three years old, so she wasn’t a “new” rider, as I wrongly assumed, based on what was written in the quote.

Again, Liz Taylor doesn’t really matter to me, so I didn’t look her up to see when her ass first landed on a horse’s back. If she really started riding at age 3, fair enough… although I doubt she was progressing that much in her skills at that age. I wouldn’t expect her to be good enough to be piloting talented jumpers over six foot fences, even if she did start riding at age 3. Certainly not bareback. That’s sheer lunacy to me. My opinion again. It was not something I really wanted to argue about. If it’s true, it’s true. I don’t really care one way or the other.

The evening wore on, and Bill and I went to bed. I spent all day blissfully unaware of that post and, in fact, had completely forgotten about it. Then, at about 5 PM, I got a tag from someone I didn’t know. Not knowing what she was referencing, I clicked to see what was up. And it was some twat who wrote something along the lines of, “Have you ever even been on a horse? Do you know *anything* about horses?” Then there was a long diatribe about how Liz Taylor certainly could have been jumping six foot fences bareback, and a link to some site that I didn’t bother checking. To tell you the truth, I didn’t read beyond her first two sentences, because I found them extremely insulting and irritating, and I was momentarily really pissed.

Weeee! Us again… probably in 1988.

You see, I spent years riding horses. I owned a very special Appaloosa pony for years. I took lessons, cleaned stalls, went to horse shows, showed hunt seat and Western, went on competitive trail rides, attended riding clinics given by fancy Frenchmen, fox hunted, completed 4 H horse projects, and I have a huge box full of over 200 ribbons, plaques, medals and such in storage in Texas. I even won a horse blanket one year. So yes, I do know my way around a horse, even though I gave up riding a long time ago.

Maybe I should have responded to the idiot with just a picture of my ribbons…

I realize this person doesn’t know me at all. I don’t know her at all. My guess, though, is that I was probably riding horses and shoveling manure when she was still a spark in her daddy’s testicles. I also suspect, like a lot of Facebook experts, she moseyed on over to my Facebook page to see if there was any evidence of my “expertise” with horses. When she saw no equine pics on the public version of my account, she wrongly assumed that I don’t have any experience with horses, hence her moronic challenging questions to me– a total stranger.

I was tempted to respond with indignance, but instead, I took a deep breath, and then sighed with a loud groan of utter annoyance. Then I posted something along the lines of this:

Yes, I have experience with horses. I grew up riding and showing my own horse. I still don’t believe this story. If you do, good for you. I really don’t care.

Then, just because I had a feeling it would inspire laughter from those who knew me when I was young, I posted this:

I was gratified when my former riding instructor wrote this…

A time or two?🤣🤣🤣. Try more years than I care to think about! ðŸ™ˆðŸ™ˆ

I am honestly very indebted to my old riding instructor, because I certainly wasn’t the easiest person to teach… or even just to deal with, especially when I was going through puberty. And she was there to see me in all my moody, hormonal glory! Isn’t it awesome that I still know her as I’m now going through menopause! I’m not quite as moody these days… or, at least I cry less.

It’s because of her that I ever owned a horse of my very own. She taught me so much, and having unlimited access to her farm no doubt kept me out of trouble… and possibly even the psych ward. I had a tendency toward depression in those days (as well as today, but now I have booze).

The fact that I had a horse, and had to work to keep him, kept me productive and active, and helped stave off the darkest moods of depression. I spent hours riding my bike to and from her farm, cleaning the ten stalls in her barn, and doing the many horsey chores required when you have a horse. Even if you aren’t into showing, as I was in those days, there’s a lot of work to be done. I do miss it– and horses– very much. But I think the work might kill me these days. 😀

So yes, when some rando on Facebook asks me if I “know anything” about horses, simply because we disagree about a silly quote allegedly by Elizabeth Taylor– a dead actress I don’t even particularly care about– it does smart a bit. Was she really expecting me to post my horse experience resume on such a random comment between total strangers? Who’s got the time for it?

However, I was also gratified that my fellow horsey friend from those days, another of the many Jennifers born in the 70s, posted this in response to my peevish status update…

Ha! I was doubting that post from Liz too. I’ve never seen anyone do six feet bareback.

Jennifer and I were in 4 H together and enjoyed many a hot Saturday at horse shows when we were growing up in Gloucester, Virginia. She knows her way around horses, too. And anyone who knew me in those days, knows that horses were then my life. It’s almost hard to believe now. Seems like a dream.

I guess this incident can be filed away under yet another reason why Facebook sucks. But then, if it weren’t for Facebook, I couldn’t share a laugh with the people I knew when I was an avid horsewoman. It’s a testament to the specialness of that time that those people are still my friends so many years later.

Whether or not Liz Taylor ever jumped six foot fences while riding a horse bareback isn’t that important, at least not to me. She’s been dead for years, so it’s not like her feelings are going to be hurt if I don’t believe this alleged quote from her about her horseback riding skills. Maybe it is the truth, but I don’t feel like verifying it, one way or the other. Especially now.

Liz’s alleged quote kind of reminds me of that ghastly video of Alan Osmond, when he talked about how he was the best marksman in his Army basic training unit, yet he never saw a single day in Vietnam. Instead, he stayed behind at Fort Ord, where he served as a typist. Now, I absolutely respect Alan for serving in the Army, but I think his claims about his military badassery are probably hyperbolic bullshit. And this quote by Elizabeth Taylor is probably similarly hyperbolic. I base that on my experiences with horses, even as I acknowledge that I’m not an expert and I quit riding some time ago. I never claimed to be an expert. I just know what bullshit smells like.

So no, I don’t feel like qualifying myself with a rundown of my equine experience and expertise, just to be allowed to leave a comment on a random Facebook post about horses. I shouldn’t be expected to do that. I’ve got more important things to do, like manscaping Bill’s chest hair.

On another note… I notice that a lot of horse people really can be insufferable jerks. I don’t miss that.

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complaints, condescending twatbags, expressions

“Not the sharpest knife in the drawer…”

Yesterday, The Washington Post ran an article about how the declining birthrate in the United States is going to be a problem and outlining how other countries have tried to encourage people to have babies. This isn’t the first time I’ve read about how the declining birth rate is causing concern. However, after years of hearing how overpopulated the world is and how our natural resources are dwindling, it does surprise me that now people are being encouraged to breed more. I get that it’s mainly because a steep decline in the birth rate will cause a shortage of people available to work as our population continues to age. However, I think that’s a pretty stupid and selfish reason to encourage people to have children, particularly when the world is so completely fucked.

After I read the article, I checked out a few of the comments on Facebook. Someone posted about the lunacy of encouraging people to breed and a guy named “Ken” made a crack about how we’ll have robots working in nursing homes.

God bless the people who are willing to take care of the elderly, especially if they enjoy doing it and are good at it, but it’s not right to expect people to do it if that’s not what they want to do with their lives. Moreover, the sad reality is, if a robot does become available that can do the work of caring for the elderly, chances are the robot will be made. Robots don’t have to be paid; they don’t need to take vacations or maternity leave; and they can be programmed. Companies that make money by hiring robots to do jobs humans once did will do just that, because money is more important to them than putting humans to work. Having a surplus of babies will not change that reality. It’ll just be more people to feed, clothe, educate, and find work for.

I know I should have kept scrolling, but I couldn’t help myself. I posted that the prospect of robots working in nursing homes is a dumb reason to have kids. I didn’t add this part, but I was thinking about how selfish it is to have babies with the expectation that they’ll grow up to do a specific job… like wiping my ass when I’m an old lady.

Children should be wanted and loved by their parents. They shouldn’t be born simply to fill a quota. It’s not right to expect people to have babies if they don’t want them or can’t have them. Note– I did not call Ken “dumb”, I said having babies simply for the sake of making bodies is a “dumb reason” to have children. Especially when there are families like the Duggars who are having enough babies for many single people.

“Ken” then proceeded to tell me that I’m “not the sharpest knife in the drawer”, then demanded to know if I’d read the article. Uh… I ALWAYS read before I comment. So I responded, explaining to Ken that I’m definitely “sharp enough”. I criticized the idea of having babies just to boost the population– especially since there’s no telling how the people resulting from those births will turn out in the future. I also advised him not to insult total strangers.

He came back and insulted me again, claiming that I’m “ignorant” and “obtuse”, and inviting me to go visit nursing homes so I could see the true state of things. Of course he doesn’t know anything about me at all, and obviously doesn’t want to know. He just lashes out with random insults and assumptions about complete strangers. I wonder if he has any friends.

I was tempted to rip “Ken” a new one, but decided to block him instead. Because when it comes down to it, there’s no point in getting into a war of words with someone who feels the need to insult people they don’t even know. In two comments, this total stranger called me “not the sharpest knife in the drawer”, “ignorant”, and “obtuse”. While I know that none of his comments about me are true, I was really inspired to rip his head off and shit down his neck. Fortunately, I realized that not only would that be unproductive, but it would also make me a hypocrite. I don’t like hypocrisy, or getting into pointless arguments with people I don’t even know. Still, I would be lying if I said his words weren’t offensive, even if I know they shouldn’t matter. They’re not personal, because he would have to know me for them to be personal. He obviously isn’t interested in knowing me or making a connection. He just wants to be rude to people who don’t agree with him.

I am grateful I had enough sense not to waste time arguing with “Ken”, who really should go out and get pregnant, since he’s so worried about the future. I wanted to ask him if he routinely responds to people with such tackiness. I guess he thinks I should have gotten pregnant a couple of times instead of wasting my time on higher education. Maybe he’s right, although if I’d had children, my life would probably be very different. Either way, arguing with him would have been a waste of time, so I decided to just block him and move on. Obviously, no one taught him any manners or regard for others, and that’s sad. But it’s not my job to give him a clue, nor should I be spreading the epidemic of incivility on the Internet.

I’m not sure if the stresses of the last year have made people more insufferable and disrespectful or I’m just worn out by the stress and have a much lower tolerance. It could be a bit of both. I did catch myself feeling hopeful yesterday as my arm twinged with the slight pain of my first COVID-19 vaccine. I had a red, slightly swollen oval around the injection site– maybe two inches wide and an inch tall. My body is mounting an immune response to the vaccine, which I hope, after my second Moderna shot, will mean I can finally have some fun again. Maybe the prospect of a trip will have a good effect on my mood.

Actually, the COVID-19 news seems to be getting better, even here in Germany. Last month, there was all this doom and gloom about how no one could get vaccines, and the illness was killing people and overloading the hospitals. Angela Merkel was wanting to lock everything down indefinitely, even though we’ve been locked down in some form since November. But now, about the vaccines are finally being rolled out and there’s talk that the restrictions could be loosening soon. I am dreaming of a trip to Stuttgart to see our dentist and get a cleaning, at long last. Noyzi the rescue dog needs a test run at the boarding facility, too. I suspect in a few weeks, we’ll be able to get out of town and maybe even take a short trip to another country. I’d settle for a short trip in Germany that isn’t in Hesse.

It’s hard to learn the lesson that what other people think of you is none of your business. However, it’s also hard not to know what’s “none of your business” when people like “Ken” so freely share their negative and uninformed opinions about people they don’t even know. It bothers me that a perfect stranger feels perfectly okay calling a total stranger “dull”, “ignorant”, and “obtuse”, simply because of a disagreement. But when it comes down to it, saying those things is more revelatory of Ken’s character than my level of intelligence. He just happened to hit a raw nerve. My whole life, people have underestimated me and called me “silly”, “giddy”, “giggly”, “blonde”, or “jolly”. Then, when they eventually realize I’m not *just* those things, they give me another label– usually a negative one. My father used to say I was “arrogant”, as he added that I would never make more than minimum wage. Then he wondered why I didn’t like him very much and wasn’t interested in spending time with him.

I suppose my run in with “Ken” makes me glad that I married a man who values a woman with a brain. Bill does listen to my opinions and think I’m plenty “sharp”. So even though it stings when I run into people like “Ken”, it probably is best to just block people like him and go on with my life. What he thinks of me is none of my business. The fact is, he couldn’t be more wrong about me, and he’s not interested in learning the truth. So his opinions about my intelligence or lack thereof are irrelevant… and his opinions about the birthrate in the United States are irrelevant to me, too, especially since I’m not tasked with procreating with him. If he’s wrong about my intelligence, he’s probably wrong about a lot of other things. Moreover, he clearly doesn’t understand that there are real people behind the computer screens. The fact that he and his ilk aren’t sharp enough to get that is just one more reason why it’s better not to reproduce.

Sorry… I know this is kind of a “brently” post. I’m just fed up with a lot of stuff. I realize I’m luckier than many people are, but the older I get, the more I think that having a bunch of children is a foolhardy thing to do. Give me my rescue dogs and that’ll be fine. If that makes me “dull”, so be it. At least I haven’t spread any of my defective DNA to any unsuspecting descendants.

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stupid people

I don’t care if strange men call me the c-word…

Today’s post is a very frank discussion of a certain hateful word toward women. Please don’t read this if you can’t handle it. It’s going to be quite raw and probably offensive.

Yesterday’s post is bleeding into today’s post… Heh heh heh… I wrote “bleeding”. Just got off the rag myself, because a certain part of my body has been bleeding this week. Monthly periods are a by product of being able to make babies. I won’t lie. They’re gross. But without that body function, none of us would be alive.

Apparently, some men feel that the vulgar word referring to that part of a woman’s body is the best insult to hurl at a woman… any woman at all. I got called a “cunt” on Facebook yesterday. I probably should have thought to take screen shots of the exchange, but I decided not to. I was on my iPad and it wasn’t convenient.

I was reading ol’ Ron’s inane conspiracy post about how the Democrats and the Chinese are colluding to destroy our American economy by spreading a dangerous viral pandemic and killing thousands of people. I read some of the comments on that post. A guy named “Bill”– not MY Bill, but another Bill that, in this post, I’ll call “‘ol Bill”– posted a meme featuring a picture of Donald Trump with both of his middle fingers in their upright and locked positions. The meme in question kind of looked like today’s featured photo, except both of Trump’s middle fingers were raised. It was obviously intended to be rude and insulting to anyone who isn’t a Trump fan. The meme included the caption, “Still your president.” And, with the raised fingers added the non-written sentiment, “so fuck you…”

I don’t usually respond to stuff like that, but for some reason, yesterday I was feeling kind of saucy. Maybe it’s all this social isolation and boredom that did me in, and my utter exhaustion at being confronted by boorish Trump lovers. So I posted the below picture… Actually, I posted a GIF, but this came up on my memories today and was convenient for this post…

Ol’ Bill didn’t like this much… and he responded to me with another meme styled personal insult.

I noticed that ol’ Bill had a photo of himself and, apparently, his son as his profile picture, with a caption indicating that he’s in favor of “men’s rights“. My guess is that he and the mother of his son are embroiled in a custody dispute, since ol’ Bill’s Facebook page was full of pictures of a young male child, Trump quotes, and comments about how it’s not fair that women get custody of children more often than men do.

For the record, I’m not totally against men’s rights, particularly when it comes to child custody issues. I strongly believe that, post birth, fathers must have parental rights, too, unless there is a damned good reason for them not to have them. I also think that some mothers should not have unbridled access to their children. My own husband, Bill, was denied contact with his daughters for almost their entire childhoods. Bill’s abusive ex wife is a terrible mother and, as we’ve recently learned, regularly uses her children to hurt other people. Bill’s ex puts her kids through hell. I still kick myself for not reporting Bill’s ex wife to child protective services, although back when it would have mattered, we didn’t have nearly as much information as we have today. I did struggle with the decision back then, but opted not to call, since we were in Virginia and they were in Arizona. I now know that my gut instinct was right on, and we should have reported her, fallout be damned.

In any case, if conservative, Trump loving, ‘ol Bill had gotten to know me, he might find that I do have some empathy for his plight. I’m not impressed by his political leanings, but the fact that he’s a Trumper doesn’t necessarily mean that he isn’t a good father. But I never got to tell him that, because unfortunately, ‘ol Bill then went right below the belt with a misogynistic insult. And I couldn’t help but think that maybe the mother of his son is right to keep the boy away from his father, who obviously hates women– or at least has a problem with them having any say.

I knew I’d struck a nerve by posting back to ‘ol Bill, even with a non profane picture of Trump with a frog on his face. I had a feeling that trolling him would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Just for fun, I called ‘ol Bill an off brand buttplug– a toy that can be enjoyed by anyone. I have to confess that it wasn’t an original insult. I read it in a hilarious open letter to Donald Trump and thought it was funny. I guess that hurt ‘ol Bill’s feelings, though, because next, he went right for my reproductive parts by coming back with this…

Wow… them’s fightin’ words, ain’t they? Luckily, when it comes to the c-word from strangers, I wear a steel plated panty shield.

Once again, I chose not to respond to ‘ol Bill with a meme. Instead, I wrote “Trump supporters aren’t known for being deep thinkers. I don’t care that you think I’m a cunt. I think you’re a load that should have been swallowed.” And that was the end of our discussion. I didn’t get any other notifications from ‘ol Bill. Hours later, I discovered that ‘ol Bill had blocked me, which suits me fine. As George Carlin would say, “you don’t want to have anything to do with an asshole like that.” I was glad he quit engaging, because it’s a strain to be vulgar to strangers and, if I’m honest, after the first couple of barbs, it ceases to be fun.

Before ‘ol Bill blocked me, I took an even longer look at his Facebook page. I could see that he has a young son that he apparently doesn’t get to see as often as he would like. I can only assume that the reason ‘ol Bill doesn’t see his son very often is because, for whatever reason, the boy’s mother doesn’t cooperate with him. And maybe that makes ‘ol Bill feel hateful toward her, and by proxy, all other women who take him on, especially on social media. Maybe that’s also why he admires Donald Trump. Trump openly disdains women, and doesn’t mind trying to put them in their places by making disgusting, gender specific comments about them and treating them like sex objects. For all I know, ‘ol Bill is actually a sweet person with a good heart. But I think he was hateful to me because I am a stranger who happens to own a body part that has ultimately caused him significant pain. And, just like the child he doesn’t see enough of, he’s lashing out in a childish way by going nuclear with the c-word.

I don’t usually engage with people like ‘ol Bill. I find that it’s a waste of time and energy, even if it’s sometimes fun to watch them squirm. I probably responded to him yesterday because I was so shocked by the sheer stupidity of that post by “‘ol Ron” and thousands of people posting who were patting him on the back for his non-sensical drivel about how evil liberals are. I’m tired of the daily Trump shitshow, the lack of civility and interest in working together for the common good, and the idiocy that is inspired by Trump’s non-stop lunacy. I’m offended by people who openly taunt those of us who are sincerely worried and upset about Trump’s disastrous leadership, particularly when they do it in a profane way. Every once in awhile, God help me, I simply can’t resist.

But today’s post isn’t so much about Trump and Trump’s seemingly hellbent intention of destroying the country. Today I want to address men who think the word “cunt” is the best weapon to use in an argument with a woman. Guys, the fact is, it’s not. In fact, whether or not the word “cunt” is offensive depends on where you’re from. In the United Kingdom and Australia and other British influenced cultures, the word “cunt” is not even all that gender specific. Calling someone a cunt in England is akin to saying they’re stupid. It’s just like the word “fag”, which is so offensive in the United States, is not at all offensive in England, where it’s a slang term for cigarettes. As George Carlin would say, the words are totally neutral and innocent. Words are just tools. It’s the intention behind them that make them “good” or “bad”.

Please tell me. Why should I care if someone like ‘ol Bill calls me a cunt? Am I supposed to be hurt that some strange guy I’ve never even met supposedly thinks I’m a cunt? I don’t even know ‘ol Bill, and he doesn’t know me, so his comment isn’t personal. He’s certainly not the first person to call me a cunt. I’ve survived every other time someone’s called me that. He was simply lashing out, and my retort that he’s a load that should have been swallowed apparently cut him deeply enough to block me. It shouldn’t have, though. I was simply giving him what he put out… and I don’t know him, so whether or not his mother should have spat or swallowed instead of conceiving him is immaterial to me.

For all I know, ‘ol Bill is not an off brand buttplug. He might be a swell guy, like my Bill is. I do think, however, that he asks for insults by taunting people with stupid memes featuring Donald Trump with his middle fingers raised. I mean, if you respect Trump, why would you use his picture to insult perfect strangers? The middle finger is, in and of itself, intended to be rude. When you use a world leader to put out that message, it becomes more personal and offensive. That meme wouldn’t have drawn the same reaction if ‘ol Bill had used a stick figure with middle fingers raised instead of Trump’s picture. But he started our unfortunate encounter by using Trump to insult all comers. Is he surprised someone called him out for doing that? Would he have had the same reaction if I’d been a man?

The word “cunt” to an American woman is supposed to be a deeply personal, hurtful insult. If someone I loved and respected– say my dear husband, Bill– called me a cunt, I would probably be very hurt and angry. But honestly, when some guy I don’t know or respect calls me a cunt, supposedly to put me in my place, all I really feel like doing is laughing at the stupidity of it. Especially when I can see on the guy’s Facebook page that a fellow cunt owner has obviously deeply injured him and has apparently made him hate every other cunt owner out there. And yet… I highly doubt that ‘ol Bill is gay, so deep down, he probably enjoys interactions with cunts. His pecker probably craves the occasional meeting with that particular part of a woman’s anatomy. Indeed, it was a cunt that provided Bill with everything– from his own life, to the life of the boy whose photos are plastered all over his Facebook page.

Yes… besides ‘ol Bill’s mother, who probably had conventional sex with ‘ol Bill’s father and passed the baby version of ‘ol Bill through her cunt, another “cunt” has also given something very precious to ‘ol Bill. Now, it appears that the owner of the cunt ‘ol Bill’s son sprang from has taken away that gift by denying him equal access to the boy. So now, ‘ol Bill responds by championing misogynists like Donald Trump and attacking women he doesn’t even know with a very insulting word that is usually meant for the end of a heated argument.

Like I said, the word “cunt”, in the American style, is supposedly designed to be cruel, hateful, and demeaning. But it really only has power if the person on the receiving end cares about the opinion of the person who said it. And beyond thinking about ‘ol Bill’s “insult” for the purpose of writing this post, I genuinely don’t care that he called me that word, even if he really does think I’m a cunt. People I have known, loved, and respected have said much worse things to me than ‘ol Bill did. It’s probably because of those people that I engaged with ‘ol Bill in the first place, because I have my own anger issues.

So… to all of you guys out there who feel that calling a woman a “cunt” is the worst thing you can do– particularly if you also add the word “fat” in front of it, I have news for you. It’s very likely that the woman you’re calling a cunt doesn’t give a shit about your opinion. In fact, most of us know that most of you crave access to our cunts and that’s your very specific and pathetic weakness. When you resort to using that word to demean women, you’re really just showing us how weak and sad you are because some woman in your life hurt you and denied you access to her body… and you are reminding us that when it comes down to it, without cunts, you wouldn’t even be here. I suggest you come up with something else.

Yeah… but even this isn’t that offensive, is it?

And… if you are an obvious Trump supporter calling me a cunt, just know that I think it’s hilarious, and you might even inspire me to write about you. Because, just like ‘ol Bill and Donald Trump, you’re stupid and ultimately powerless. A stronger leader than Trump wouldn’t have daily meltdowns on TV and Twitter, and blame other people for his own obvious failures and egregious mistakes. It’s true that Trump is in charge right now, but one day, he definitely won’t be. And you’ll be on the wrong side of history, just like Hitler’s supporters are.

Now… I’m off to give my cunt some much needed attention.

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