anagram of brat

I have to interrupt the usual stream of silliness and bitching, y'all. It's been a long ass while since something on the news has fucked with me this badly and I'm having all kinds of FEELINGS about it, which is one in a bunch of reasons why I'm not dead asleep right now.

This is going to get long and nasty and thorny and opinionated, and I highly suspect some folk are going to squirm/be triggered/get pissed at me reading it. I'm not cutting it. I'm only barely feeling considerate enough to place a trigger warning in the title. Deal. Or scroll.

So let's talk about this kid for a minute:



This is 17 year old Trayvon Martin. He was shot and killed in Florida on February 26 while walking to a 7-11 to get some candy for his brother. Why? According to the man that shot him, "he looked suspicious." ...Uh huh. I'm totally paraphrasing, by the way, his actual words were far more... chilling is the wrong word, but it's all I've got. No I'm not quoting them, google it.

Earlier this evening police released 911 audio of eight calls made at the time of the shooting. After reading the description of their contents here, I've opted to not listen. I know I wouldn't be able to handle it, and I'm having enough trouble sleeping this evening. The description is enough to have me in some ugly tears.

I wouldn't say there is enough coverage of this out there by way of Twitter, blogs and the news, because there isn't, and frankly, there never is when a kid of color dies. (Pretty confident a lot of you are hearing about this for the first time via this post.) However, most of what I could say about this has been said by people far better at this whole expressing outrage and grief on the internet than I am. The #TrayvonMartin hashtag on twitter pretty much covers it, as well as completely breaks my heart six ways from Sunday.

I will say this though. Between this case, this kid's picture (he don't look like anybody's 17, I'm sorry), all the points people have brought up about the (non)value of black boys in our supposedly post-racial society, looking at the way my sisters and friends of color raise their kids, especially their sons, and all the things I hated but completely understood about how my ex used to behave as a large black man in a 90% white public? I think I'm finally okay with not having children in this lifetime, because this is all shit I would have to deal with and worry about every single day as a Black mother, and y'all... I can't even. I don't know how some of you deal with this and still manage to let your boys out of your sight to live their lives, knowing that they run the VERY FUCKING REAL risk of having their LIVES ENDED for having the audacity to walk down a street in a way that upset someone paler than they are, and 9 times out of 10, said pale person wouldn't catch jack shit for it. Because this isn't an isolated incident, y'all. I wish it was, but this shit's been happening almost every day since most of us brown folk got dragged here in chains. And you know what? It's pretty fucking rough just dealing with that day in and day out, just knowing if you slip up and take a shortcut through the wrong town at the wrong time,* it'll cost you in at best harassment, at worst grievous bodily harm, possibly including death. All because you happen to be somewhat more sun-resistant than Freckle McBlonderson over there. And then add the fact that you have to worry about your kids as well? Ffffffffuuuuuuucccccccck.

Y'all who never have to worry about this shit as you raise your kids? Give some serious fervent thanks to whatever power you hold dear that you don't, cause it sucks. And I'm not going to lie, tonight I resent your privilege in this department more than a little bit. Nope, no exceptions, sorry, I'm not writing any Black Friend Passes today and just as a heads up, the window may remain closed at least through the weekend. Too upset, and fuck you if you don't get why.

I'm not at all optimistic about there being any kind of positive outcome in this case, and it is almost a moot point because even if key people managed to get their collective heads out of their asses and some kind of legal justice was served, Trayvon is still horribly, senselessly dead. The media and the Internet being what they are, his death won't necessarily spark nearly enough outrage to really change anything either because in order to get people outside of the niche that is, say, #blacktwitter to give a shit about black boys dying, some white guys have to make a video about it and make it go viral. Bonus if they then get busted for drug use and public masturbation. That's what makes people pay attention. One sweet-faced teenager just getting his brother some candy and getting shot for his trouble? Well like I sad, Trayvon died on the 26th of February. Why did it take twenty damn days for this to get widespread press? Shit.

All I want to do right now is hug the stuffing out of my nephews and tell them I love them. And cry buckets that it's still so fucked up out there that shit like this can still happen and no one'll say boo, and even if someone does? deaf ears.

Wellp. Until next time, folks. Sadly, there will be one.



* seriously, look up "sundown towns" and "The Green Book" sometime. You'll learn stuff.

So this has more or less been my morning thus far:



Ah cat ownership. It seems I wake up most mornings with thoughts of murder and taxidermy in my head as I stumble downstairs to feed Her Dicktastic Majesty after she spends at least an hour of running around our room making a hot and cold running ASS of herself. Loudly. Cats do not get the concept of "I don't care if it's feed you time, let me sleep."

Today's plans - stay off the social internets (with the exception of google talk), craft the mother of all to-do lists, drink mad amounts of coffee while I still can, and make shit that needs to happen happen. You?

Points to those who get the reference.

Between the usual bad after effects of traveling on my delicate widdle intestines (seriously, fuck them right now) plus the uterus being all SWEET A PAIN PARTY CAN I COME I am not a happy camper. And there still seems to be an o.b. shortage. The only size I've been able to find anywhere are the yellow super pluses, the insertion of which is not entirely unlike loading the ladytunnel with 12 gauge cotton buckshot. (Feel free to write your own cock and fire jokes, and no my pelvic floor muscles are not that awesome.) Plus I didn't feel up to making coffee this morning so I've got the beginnings of a raging headache on top of this. Not that my head is below my waist.

Clearly I need to remedy this with liberal applications of kitty cuddles.

This is gonna be one of those entries where I lose friends on all sides of the spectrum. SO BE IT.

( RANTING AHOY. Considering it's regarding the PA Dickwolves drama, triggery like whoa )

ETA: non friend commentary screened. I'm not interested in outside wankery on this.

ETA2: ehh never mind i just locked the post from further comments. I realize thats probably going to piss folk off moar and violates my usual policy of encouraging people to tell me when i'm wrong, but upon thinking about it, i realize i don't have my usual level of trollface and popcorn interest in seeing which of my friends are on what side (i'm pretty sure i know where y'all stand by now) and having you cockfight it out. Also, this is the blue moon occasion where i'm off the fence i usually ride like a prize stallion and am pretty solid in how i feel about it. For whatever its worth, it seems like a flounce/chickenshit/fuck you move even to me, lol. But whatever. Its not like if you really want to talk to me about this you don't know where and how to get a hold of me. I just dont want to do it here. Interpret that as you will, i suppose.

Fuck your so called "delicious cake."

a) the cake is and always was a goddamn LIE. Tired old meme or not, in this case it applies. Any cake there was to be had was mine and if anyone ran away with it giggling, it was you.

b) I don't need your goddamn vegan gluten free treehugging hippie cake, so roll it up, shove it up your ass and light it on fire. My dollar ninety nine betty crocker shit tastes so much better it's not even funny. But I'm sure that self-righteous smugma (not a typo) you and the others bukakked all over it by way of frosting tastes like... something.

c) "delicious cake" is another term for severely underage jailbait. Research your metaphors before using them.

Thank you, move along.

And no, I'm not explaining, so don't ask. No exceptions.

When I really really think about it, I don't really know why I like watching SVU. I mean, other than the man candy (Mmmm, Chris Meloni... BD Wong.... Adam Beach... Hell even Ice -T cleans up well in this show...), the fact that I love me both some Mariska Hargitay and her character Olivia, and the fact that it's pretty snappily written dialogue-wise (I'm still really sorry they reduced Munch's role in later seasons; he has some of the best and funniest lines in season 1 so far), if a little slavishly devoted to formula. All of which are good things, mind, but at the same time? it's a show that deals with some pretty damn rough material every week to the point where I've made reference to the "how many showers do you need to take after watching?" system of rating episodes.

Also? TRIGGERY SHIT AHOY. And it's not even the big stuff that gets under my skin, I can safely say I'm fairly desensitized to that (which is a rant for someone and someplace else). It's the little things. Like how in response to someone wondering why anyone would allow an 8 year old to walk to a comic book shop down the street unaccompanied in New York, a standard out-of-towner concern, Munch shoots back with "Watch over them 24 hours a day you end up with safe little neurotics." Gee, whom does that describe to a tee? *sigh* 'Course in my case "safe" is debatable, but I've already made THAT whole big long post. Oh yeah, not like this show doesn't poke me in that particular trigger a lot as well.

And occasionally something will hit me in the STOP PISSING ME OFF. One gradual change to the show I'm actually kind of glad about is that they quit focusing and playing off the Stabler = married man with 4 (later 5) kids vs Benson = single and childless woman and how their job affects them in those contexts. The fact that they hew very close to stereotype, especially in season one, aside... GAH. I have all kinds of problems with that particular setup that I don't really have time to rant about, but I'm only on frakking episode 8 of season 1 and Stabler has told Benson no less than three times this season that she's incapable of understanding x, y, and z because she doesn't have children.

*growl*

Okay, you know what, I get that there may indeed some truth to that statement; having never had the miraculous brain transmutation that apparently happens when you become a parent, I'm really in no place to speculate on "before" and "after" states. But considering various people have seen fit to say this to me in various tones of voice and degrees of smugness pretty much since my nephew was born a legal drinking age ago, hearing it in any context is going to make me want to pull out the nearest spleen with my bare hands and vengefully eat it, because it's almost always said with the intent of instantly silencing the non-parent from daring to offer a differing opinion from a parent regarding their children, whether it's how they are raised, what their environment may be, what effect an action you take may have on them, etc. etc. Bottom line? I've maybe had it said to me once in a way where I could honestly say "yeah, you're right, I probably wouldn't get that." The rest? Pretty much directly translated to "STFU/STFD until you pop out some kids, then have an opionion." My response? "Fuck you."

Like I said, it's the little shit that gets to me. I think I'm going to have to put on something a little lighter from my Netflix queue for a while to keep from defenestrating my monitor. Also more coffee.

I mentioned being in the sneaky hate spiral yesterday - events since that post haven't really helped things at all.

I'm quite sure a hefty percentage of this is hormonal, which only serves to piss me off more. Granted all emotion is a biological process of some sort, but I always feel somehow more annoyed and frustrated when shit gets amplified by one or another thing I don't even have a nice fuzzy illusion of having any control over and which, due to everyone's ground in attitudes towards it, makes everything I'm currently feeling pretty easily dismissable, even by me.

Anyway. Figured I'd give y'all the heads up. Oh and click the eggs.

Today was equal parts awesome and trying. Actually no, honestly it was more awesome than trying if I really think about it, I'm just having perspective fail right now.

I want to write about the awesome bits a little later when the trying parts stop making me want to kill everything in the eyeball with a spear made of seventeen live scorpions. Also there will be pictures. With me in them for a change, because while I forgot the hatemonger, extrajoker and inle_rah weren't nearly so forgetful.

( Pertaining to ladybits and rage )



Back when I'm less pissed off.

Seems to be a theme today, lol.

Things I need to get done:

Big chunk of work updates that need to get done before I leave town This should NOT have taken as long as it did, but damn it it's DONE now.

Throw Crap To Wear (and wash) this weekend into backpack

Clean out Hanzo-san (Considering I despise having a messy car, this will only involve clearing out some petals left over from the funeral a few weeks back, a towel and and some papers) - Fuck it, this ain't going to happen. If dad objects to flower petals, he's going to just have to deal.

Plug in and charge Things What need Charging and poke iTunes playlists for the drive down

Get some kind of dinner.

Recheck that I have indeed packed everything I need to freaking pack

Take the kids' toys/books over to cell23's.

Drop off some DVDs and wish aradiadiane a happy birthday

ADDED to list: take shower because I smell like it's been over 90 degrees all damn day.

OMG Drive to NYC! (right, time to go.)

Things I HAVE managed to get done
(despite glitches mostly having to do with EVEN IN THE FUTURE NOTHING WORKS)

gas up and do the pre-long drive car check
(this hit a snag when my Bank of America card refused to work properly - one detour to the Amherst branch and a panic attack later...)

get my damn cable back on (whoop whoop)
(the snag here was having the TV go back on instantly but the internet involved me having to call them so they could reset my modem remotely. Grr.)

god, it's nice to have my own goddamn internet again you guys have no idea.

Also riding a little high on adrenaline... I totally ripped into this overtanned beach blonde princess at the comcast office because she had parked her car in front of the office door in such a way that no one could get around her to park in the actual parking spaces in the back (not to mention the trucks couldn't get to their holding area either). Seriously, I Angry Black Womanned her ass (yes it's a verb) until she left in a screaming swearing huff... and got a quiet round of applause from the line of little old ladies waiting to pay their bills. Seriously you guys, I have no patience for entitled teenage speshul snowflakes anymore. I must be getting old or something.

Anycrap, got shit to do and a trip to pack for. Wish me luck and a safe journey y'all.