up with figs, muscle
qotd, fajitas + run!

you know what? never mind.

Here's the thing -- I largely ignore Chuck Pinkey, our local Tea Party partisan who is convinced that things were so much better in the good old days when men were men and everyone else knew their place, which is to realize that the men had it all under control, thank you very much, and that any pain you might be feeling is your own damn fault.

But his column in this week's paper got under my skin, so much so that I spent the morning drafting a response. Then I realized: fuck it. There is no way on this earth or any other than any possible thing I could say or do would make the slightest dent in Pinkey's belief system. My time would be better spent teaching my cat to play the banjo -- because then, at least, we could while away the winter listening to "Foggy Mountain Breakdown."

Besides, Chris Rock said it all better than I possibly could.

Right now, I'm simply taking comfort in the statistically likelihood that my generation will outlast Pinkey's and that my daughter's generation will outlast me. I'm hoping that no more black men die at the hands of the police before that long arc finally bends toward justice.  


Yeah. What you said.

Wow. So backward. I'll bet he's awfully tired of hearing about rape culture and "supposed" male privilege, too. It must be nice for him to live in a place where his white maleness grants him no advantages over anyone else, because everyone is so equal and so past all of the problems that existed way back when.

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