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  • Do You Want To Share Reality With Me?

    The other day the Munch was having a play date with a friend, and they started arguing over which game to play – bakery vs. chipmunks making poop pie. Now call me out of touch with the youths, but I personally didn’t see a difference between the two ideas. I suggested they merge the games by one pretending to play bakery, and the other pretending to play chipmunks making poop pie. Sounds reasonable right? Well, it’s fucking not according to these girls.

    The girls condescendingly explained to me that my vision of separate realities would not work for them, and then rolled their eyes at my ignorance. They instead had to agree on a shared reality of what they were playing, even though what they were playing was pretend. I had assumed that since the game existed purely in their imaginations, it didn’t really matter what the other person was imagining – but I was goddamn wrong. It mattered a fuck of a lot to these girls, and was worth spending the next 20 minutes negotiating with the complex nuance of a Palestinian freedom fighter and Israeli soldier. These kids refused to continue playing their fantasy game until they had agreed on a common understanding of their imaginary experience.

    The sharing of reality was crucial, even inside a make-believe world.

    I think we can all learn something from this bakery vs. chipmunks making poop pie saga, mainly that my kid is weird as fuck for insisting chipmunks make poop pie when everyone knows they actually make diarrhea flan – but that’s just semantics. But the other lesson we can glean is just how vital it is for people to have a mutual understanding of their perceived reality both on the micro and macro levels.

    If you’re in a relationship with someone, living with them day in and day out, waking up with them every morning to see their face, going to bed with them every night with their breath on you – you know, the romance of being in a long-term committed relationship – then you also know how important it is that you both analyze your dynamic in a similar way. Sharing reality with someone is the only way to keep things functional. If you and I were together and we got into a fight because I was an asshole and you were an asshole, our common understanding of our individual asshole behavior would be imperative to coming back together. I would HAVE to see how thought I was an asshole, just like you would HAVE to see how I thought you were an asshole. If we both agreed on our asshole behavior, then peace could be made. (PS that agreement would consist of you admitting that you were the asshole and how the whole fight was actually your damn fault okay? GET IT!?)
    Yet if you don’t own your part of the equation when shit goes down, you don’t share a common reality of what happened, and then things then fall apart. When you refuse to look at yourself or be honest about how your actions impact others, then it’s easy to justify whatever behavior you want. You can become indignant and stuck in a paradigm of feeling superior. Yet part of being in a relationship with someone is learning how to understand the effect of your behavior on the other person. You have to be able to admit fault and come to a collective agreement of what happened. That is how we get closure. We have to mostly agree on our understanding of what happened. Of course we will always hold onto our subjective twists, yet the majority of the story needs to be consistent in order to feel emotionally connected.

    The best relationships are the ones where the couple is on the same page when it comes to dissecting their lives together. If you were to separate them and ask them to deconstruct their relationship, their fights, their faults, their main issues, what works and what doesn’t – they would mostly say the same things. When you share the story of your relationship then real communication is happening. When relationships have authentic communication, then it’s more possible to develop deeper intimacy. A major aspect of trusting each other is trusting that you both see things in a similar way. In order for that to be truly achieved, both parties have to be open to candid self-reflection. The more honest we are with ourselves about our motivations, insecurities, and shadow sides, the more honest we can be with our partners.

    We all can behave in ways that suck, or allow the worst of ourselves to sometimes take over – that’s to be expected. Yet when you own up to those parts of you, and those patterns, then it’s more possible to work through them in a real way. In order for that to be accomplished, you and your partner have to set aside your egos and replace the need to be right with the desire to understand each other.

    In the macro sense our shared reality is dwindling by the second, which is why Trump, partisan politics, and the idea of “fake news” is so fundamental. It kind of enrages me that Trump has taken over the concept of “fake news” because that used to be a hyper-progressive lefty thing. When I was in my 20’s I was always talking about fake news too – but what I meant by it was the corporate controlled media that had a vested interest in censoring information to protect their economic agenda. I would go on and on about Diebold and the voting machines being rigged in Florida so Jeb Bush could hand the presidency over to his brother. At that point the Internet was just starting to question official stories like 9/11, and I was ripe to eat up all the information about the lizard elite and their secret societies. Yeah fine, maybe I was off the deep end a bit and a little too open to aliens being the answer to all I didn’t understand, but I also think there was validity to questioning the “official stories” the government was telling me.

    Then the Internet became flooded with information, and as a result there now is an oversaturation of conspiracy. The real conspiracy is that there are now too many conspiracies to keep track of. Maybe that was an intentional move by the “New World Order” to keep us confused? Rather than denying “alternative information” that wasn’t controlled by the corporate media, they decided to allow all of it in order to dilute the brand.

    There are now so many versions of alternative truths that it is impossible to decipher what was what. No matter what you think, you can prove your hypothesis on the Internet. You want to think vaccines are harmless? Well, there is plenty of information that will support that thinking. You want to think vaccines will cause your child to become a mutant and grow scales? You can find that too. No matter what you want to believe, you can reinforce your beliefs with the “facts” on the Internet.

    Then we have Donny Trump yelling about “fake news” which only furthers us from having a collective reality as a society. Yeah maybe it was just as dangerous when everyone thought the New York Times was the Bible, but at least there was a communal story we were all buying into. There was unity in that, even if it was also delusional. The fantasy world we as adults buy into isn’t that much different than the imaginary world Munch and her friend were creating – they both rely on story to keep everything together. But now that there are so many potential narratives to believe, we’re all psychically being ripped at the seams.

    For thousands of years humans have used stories to organize themselves – the two most effective being the stories of religion and the story of money having actual value. Money isn’t real, but a collective fantasy we all agree to, just like religion. These are the fairy tails that have kept humans structured for millennia. It may be scary to think how much make believe stories are the scaffolding we’ve built our entire society around, but it’s true.

    Yet currently in modern America we no longer have a collective story that we’re all connecting to. Maybe that why the “Make America Great Again” slogan was so appealing to so many? Perhaps part of the nostalgia we cling to is how everyone was way more conformist in the past and bought into the story of the American identity? Yeah they were fucked up racist, sexist, homophobic stories designed to make us consumerist drones, but most people told them to themselves and their children. It was the American sexist, racist, homophobic story, until then those damn hippies started unraveling everything, encouraging people to think for themselves and question the narrative that women belonged in the kitchen, people of color belonged in segregated ghettos, and homosexuals belonged in hell.

    I embrace the rewriting of these stories because the past wrote a fucked up plot that I don’t want to be part of, but what are the new stories we’re writing? Some of the stories people are telling themselves today make me question if we’re even the same species. I don’t share reality with the white women in Alabama that voted for Roy Moore! That’s not a bedtime story I’m telling my kid at night. I don’t even know where to begin to find a common reality with those chicks that voted into office a molester? Yet I guess that’s what we have to start figuring out. What is the most base, common reality we share with people and then start slowly building a common understanding. Maybe we both enjoy marshmallows, and we can use that to keep finding common ground, and write a collective story together where maybe, just maybe, a fucking child molester shouldn’t be considered a candidate for senator.

    (Ps if you’re wondering where these delightful/disturbing images are coming from, follow my on Instagram to see my interpretive dance where Trump uses the language of my body to express his heartache after the Roy Moore loss. Toni Nagy)

  • Maybe I’m not a total failure after all?

    In this age of social media where we’re constantly seduced into comparing our lives to the glorious existence of others, it’s easier than ever to feel like a total failure. If it weren’t for Facebook I wouldn’t know that a kid I went to high school with was now a U.S Representative and probably going to be president one day while I’m watching his speeches about health care stoned in my sweatpants. Forget the fact that he’s a Kennedy, he knew what he wanted out of life and pursued it with focus while I’m busy thinking how I should start micro-dosing mushrooms because then maybe I’ll come up with more vaginal related humor.

    I try not to envy others because jealousy is one of the most useless emotions. It doesn’t motivate me but rather traps me in a cage of my own insecurity and all I can do is feast off the flesh of whatever carrion the zookeeper of my psyche nonchalantly tosses at me. I grew up in a very competitive environment living in a Harvard Dorm as a child, and then going to a private school where kids were having panic attacks in the 5th grade because they feared an 85% on their spelling test meant they weren’t getting into MIT and only getting into Brown would cause deep shame to their family.

    I was used to competition and probably even felt it was healthy. It wasn’t until I drank ayahuasca in my 20’s (of course that happened) that I realized my competitive nature was part of my dis-ease. The medicinal vine showed me that comparing myself to others was what was holding me back emotionally in life and an energy I had to address. From that moment forward every time I felt myself comparing myself to someone else, either to feel better than them or worse than them, I would send that person loving kind energy. You should fucking try this sometime because it actually works. The minute you feel the impulse stop yourself, send them some love, and move on to the next thought. Don’t worry – you have thousands up there, like being curious if white supremacists worship albinos. I HAVE TO KNOW!

    Yet even though I developed this practice to stop me from comparing myself to others, I still have all this competitive energy socialized into me. Because I’ve been so committed not to direct it towards other people, its morphed into competing with myself. I think this is mostly okay, but also means that I’m always striving towards something in front of me. No matter what I accomplish, I’m then already focusing the next goal. I’m like one of those horses in a race chasing a fake rabbit that will always be a few paces ahead. I run faster and faster, frothing at the mouth hoping to catch up with a dream that is unattainable because I’m not meant to reach it. Okay fine, that’s not a great way to be either. Whatever no one’s perfect.

    Everyone always tells me I have to enjoy the journey because the journey is all we have. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the stupid journey. Don’t get me wrong, I believe this to be true, it’s just hard for me. I try my best to have patience with myself and realize that there is no destination because the place I’m trying to go will always change. I can’t reach the horizon because it actually doesn’t exist. It’s just an abstract line in front of me that will always move farther into the distance. There’s no point in stressing out about my lack of success because I’ll probably always want more. The best thing I can do is to accept that truth, and appreciate the process. I’m trying. I really am. Some days are better than others, but there are moments where I can actually feel this peace of mind and not just pretend I do.

    But what is success really? The way I measure success is through my work ambitions, but is that a metric I should be using? Aren’t there other ways to track success beyond the recognition of the economic marketplace validating your effort? Is my obsessive determination to quantify my artistic self my only worth? Of course not, even though it can feel that way for me.

    What I realized about myself recently is that all the parts of myself I value the most are the most conventionally “masculine” aspects of my personality. I respect that I work really hard, that I’m driven, that I don’t have emotions, that I rarely cry, that I’m hyper rational and argue like a corrupted corporate lawyer. It’s rare that I look at my more feminine qualities and honor them as part of my success.

    YOU GUYS!! DID YOU HEAR WHAT I JUST SAID? This is so humiliating to admit? I secretly worship my inner male and cast aside my inner female? Me?? The womb worshipping witchy woman? How can this be? How insane is it that a rabid feminist that gnaws at the heels of the patriarchy is still so internally ruled by it. I never feel pride about my more “feminine” successes. They are not a part of my self-esteem. In fact, I barely even notice them. So how can someone like me, who so openly honors the feminine in others, disgrace it in myself?

    When I confessed this to myself I was overcome with confusion. My whole life’s goal has been to venerate the metaphoric vagina in all of us. I believe the feminine aspects of all humans have to be penetrated into culture. Society has been ruled by the so-called “male” for so many thousands of years and we’re obviously out of balance. I’m not talking gender binary because gender is a fluid spectrum every person experiences. I’m talking about how society has defined, boxed in, and co-opted our understanding of gender. Whether we identify with gender or not, the gender stereotypes exist and we’ve been over valuing the “masculine” since the dawn of the patriarchy.

    If I’m going to self-righteously preach the glory of the feminine and how we need its influence, I also have to apply this rhetoric to myself. Isn’t it time I de-program my vision of success through this masculine financially based model and look at what I’ve accomplished that isn’t quantified? I may be an economic failure, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless. For the first time I looked at my life and proclaimed to myself that my greatest success has been being a mother.

    I know. I just said that.

    This may be something many women feel, but it was never something I felt. It didn’t even occur to be to see my mothering as a success. First of all, my life is my writing and that’s not funny content to write about – no one wants to hear about that. Can you imagine if my blog was just a series of humble brags about how much I loved my kid and what an easy time we were having? Boring. Snore. Blah. Makes me want to barf. But the truth is, that I’ve done a pretty fucking great job raising my kid, so much so that I can barely write about her anymore because she’s just so damn delightful. We have very little conflict, she’s wonderful to be around, I really enjoy her company, and our boundaries are super clear. I don’t feel like I even have to parent The Munch right now. I ask her to do things and she just does them because we have an understanding of how to best live together and there is mutual respect. The Munch is more like a roommate than I kid that I have to constantly monitor their behavior. I mean just writing this paragraph kind of made me gag, but I’m trying to hold back the bile.

    I’m sitting with this. I’m doing my best to let myself feel the success in my mothering and just not feel like a total failure for one day of my life. Sure most of the things I apply to reject me. Yeah I prostitute myself on the regular for “likes,” “comments,” and “followers.” Yes I spend everyday desperately trying to make myself culturally relevant in an artistic world oversaturated with talent and content. That’s all still true and can eat away at my soul like a raccoon at the dump of trashed self-confidence. Yet I do have this one gem in my life – this little person I’ve influenced that is not an asshole. That’s got to count for something right?

  • Maybe you shouldn’t masturbate at people?

    Wow. You guys. Life just keeps getting better huh! I mean every time I sit down to look at the news and see such great stuff like Harvey Weinstein masturbated at a woman, I think to myself, “Man, what a wonderful world.”

    I mean, who masturbates at another person? How do people come up with this stuff? And what is the thought process behind this rational? How does someone’s brain start firing off the synapses that say, “Oh, huh. I see this woman is not interested in me sexually and is actively refuting my attempted physical invasion in this restaurant kitchen – a totally appropriate venue to try and fuck a stranger mind you. No worries. I’ll just pull out my flaccid pink dick, and then rub it really fast at her. After a good few minutes of furious hunched over tugging at my dick, it will spew some semen and pulse for a bit while still dripping cum onto the floor. Yeah. That’s a good idea. That’ll show her to not be not attracted to me.”

    Can you imagine a woman doing this to a man? Also it would be such a more complicated and involved process because chicks often have more of a ritual when it comes to their masturbating technique. Unlike Harvey’s uncanny talent of being able to stand erect while yanking, we ladies tend to set the mood.

    Can we just envision a female Hollywood executive cornering a young hot man with her aggressive advances, and then reacting to his rejection with, “Oh yeah, you don’t want me? Well I’m just gonna masturbate AT you then. Hold on a second. I just have to light some of these candles first. Maybe put on “No Ordinary Love” by Sade. Now I have to find my pillows. Wait sir, could you just lay down on the floor with me so we can maintain eye contact? I have to lie tummy down, but my pelvis has to be positioned just so. Wait, can you pass me one more pillow, I need just the right angle. Okay that’s great. Actually can you also go turn on the fan for me because I like to drown out my thoughts with the white noise? Okay perfect, thanks. Now I’m just going gyrate around like this for a bit, but make sure we keep looking into each other’s souls okay? Hold me.”

    I’m sure women are not the only victims of high power executives in Hollywood wanting sexual favors in exchange for that great role in Alvin and The Chipmunks 7. This kind of culture is rampant in tinsel town. Men experience it too. I’d bet many men trying to “make it” also have stories of other men being sexual predators towards them. Men abuse men as they do women; it’s just even less talked about because there is all this gay shaming in our great nation. If you’re a heterosexual man you’re even less likely to talk about sexual assault from another man.

    It’s hard for me to relate to the psychology of someone who gets off on abusing others sexually because call me old fashioned, but I kind of like it when my partner is genuinely attracted to me. I can literally think of a thousand better things to do with your dick rather than forcing it on someone who doesn’t want it starting with seeing if an M&M fits in your pee hole. Of course as we all know too well rape culture exists everywhere not just Hollywood, yet the fame of Harvey Weinstein makes this very common occurrence news worthy.

    But here’s my question. Were you surprised when you heard that Harvey Weinstein was a rapey monster? Nope. I don’t think you were. Your reaction was probably a lot like mine. “Yeah that makes sense. I can see that.” His face looks like a banana peel. Rich and powerful men that didn’t get laid in high school are primed for a lifetime of exploiting their money and influence to exploit women. We’ve seen this before.

    What I am surprised about, but shouldn’t be, is that fact that his wife is NOT STANDING BY HIS MOTHER FUCKING SIDE BUT INSTEAD IS STANDING WITH THE VICTIMS!!

    Georgina Chapman recently said: “My heart breaks for all the women who have suffered tremendous pain because of these unforgivable actions. I have chosen to leave my husband. Caring for my young children is my first priority and I ask the media for privacy at this time,”

    Is it sad that I am astonished by this!? Hell yes! My shock at her leaving him is sadder than my lack of shock that jerk off Harvey was jerking off on people. How fucking tragic is it that I was more astonished by her actions than his?????!!!!!!!!!

    So many women have loyally STOOD BY their dick face husbands when accused of rape. Even one woman is one woman too many.

    The trauma of sexual assault doesn’t end with the event happening to you, but continues as you suffer the constant questioning of your story. If you were robbed no one would ever ask you, “are you sure you were robbed?” or assume you were lying about being robbed for attention. There also wouldn’t be this covert public acceptance of, “well, sometimes you just have to be robbed to get what you want.”

    I get that when you are robbed you have property taken from you that you could “prove” is now missing, but when you are raped a lot is also taken from you – it’s just harder to point to because you don’t have a receipt for that piece of your soul.

    It’s one thing to have to relive a horrific event in your memories; it’s another to have your painful experience then doubted by others. That must not only exacerbate the pain, but also dig it in even deeper. One of the worst experiences is when someone thinks you’re lying when you’re not, and when it comes to sexual assault, there will ALWAYS be a population of people not trusting your side of the story because you might just be admitting this deeply humiliating incident because you wanted to be in the papers. You know how ladies LOVE getting press about rape. It’s so good for their personal brands and all.

    Everyone who is openly standing against Weinstein is sending a crucial message. That message shouts out to all the victims of sexual assault who felt they couldn’t tell their mothers of their experience with incest because they feared they would be blamed for their father’s abuse. These words speak out to all the women who held in their suffering because the horror of not being believed was too much to risk. It speaks to all the women who exposed themselves and their pain by pointing out their assailants in the face of being interrogated as if they were asking for it, or acting as if their assault wasn’t really that bad.

    BUT…

    Now this is a big but. SOOOOO MANY PEOPLE were complicit to Weinstein’s horrid ways, including his wife. There is no way she didn’t hear the many rumors about her husband, because it turns out that fucker’s fuckery was the talk of the town for the past 30 years. TONS of people covered up his actions because they’d rather work with him than against him. Again, maybe I’m just a stickler, but it wouldn’t take a media frenzy for me to look into my husband being a raper. I would just have to hear one whisper of his raping ways, and you bet your sweet ass I would figure out if that shit was true… which it PROBABLY IS BECAUSE THE PERCENTAGE OF FAKE RAPE ACCUSATIONS IS PRETTY DAMN LOW!

    At this point anyone defending Weinstein looks like an idiot, so yeah, it’s on trend right now to distance oneself from his rapey reputation. I can’t get too Pollyanna about Chapman leaving him, or any of those people finally coming to the side of the victims. Too many of those same people not only turned another cheek, they rotated it all the way around like Reagan in the exorcist. That also sends a goddamn message to all the rape victims out there that tried desperately to get help and told someone they hoped would care that ended up plugging their ears instead.

    Men raping women is one thing. The hundreds of people that sit by and do nothing as men rape women is another thing. The fact that money, power, influence, and movie studios buys your capacity of being able to force yourself on others while everyone around kind of knows but what are you going to do about it…. says a lot about how much we value these things. No one was taking personal responsibility about knowing Weinstein was a raper just like he wasn’t held responsible for his raping ways.

    It took 30 years and many settlements to take this dude down, so it’s not looking good.

    Maybe the only way things will change in the future is if people who aided and embedded this asshole are also charged. The type of person that is pathological enough to rape someone is pretty far gone psychologically, but the bystanders who let it happen are kind of just regular people. If we can’t stop maniacs developing that would feel entitled to rape, we can for sure put the fear of god in anyone who knows and does nothing. People get charged with being an accessory to a crime when it comes to murder, so why not sexual assault?

    October 12, 2017 • Current Events, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 1445

  • Maybe The Mayan Prophecy is Happening Right Mother Fucking Now?

    Question: Do white supremacists worship albinos? And if not, what the dick?

    If you’re going to be a white supremacist, then you better be building shrines and temples to albinos. You can’t revere white skin and not honor the ultimate whiteness manifesting in a total lack of pigment! Let’s have some consistency people.

    If you’re like me, you’re currently in a politically induced depression. Not only is the earth trying to drown us, but also Donny Trump’s racist policies have been the highlight of the week with the repeal of DACA. Forget the fact that we’ve yet to recover from the KKK sponsored “alt right” rallies of the summer. Btw… Do you think that Neo Nazis have a summer jam that everyone get’s down to? What are their summer parties and BBQ’s like without “Despicito??” I personally can’t imagine a life worth living that doesn’t include Drake. Whose music do these people party to when they’re celebrating all their successful hate rallies?

    Does it not feel absurd that in the face of massive hurricanes and environmental destruction there is still so much energy spent towards hating people’s skin? Who has the mental space for that? How are there people on Facebook right now thinking, “Oh wow… the largest hurricane in recorded history is just getting bigger, but also, aren’t Hispanic and black people the worst?” Are we even the same species?

    Remember back in those innocent times when we talked about the Mayan Apocalypse and the end of days as some off the wall obscure potential? How 2012 came and went, but the world kept turning so we figured, “Hey, what did those Mayans know anyway? They sacrificed virgins so whatever. Silly prophecy.” Of course I know shits been fucked up since the dawn of human history, but I have to say, since the election of Donny everything seems magnified to a terrifying degree. Yes, Donny does not exist in a vacuum of his own making – he’s the product of a long existing patriarchal hierarchy that has been in power for thousands of years. But at the same time, doesn’t it feel like the dark side is descending upon us?

    Are we living the 2012 Mayan prophecy right the fuck now? Is this what this is? All those hippies kept talking about a paradigm shift like it was going to be a good thing, but what’s really been revealed is the dark underbelly of a society that cares more about deporting people than importing basic decency? This coupled by cities going underwater while others burn in a hellacious inferno seems like a Hollywood sponsored punctuation mark to alert us of the harsh reality that we have no idea how to prepare for the future where millions of people have displacement to look forward to.

    I cry uncle! I will give up all my earthly possessions for just one earth to keep living on!

    For years I’ve been thinking about the corruption of the financial system and how the ruling lizard elite have built our global economy off debt and corruption. I used to believe that the only way to break free from this state run oligarchy was some type of citizen driven revolution. That we would come together and take back our power by dismantling the system that has psychologically poisoned us while brutally raping the planet of all its resources for profit for the few. But right now, I don’t know! On the one hand there is a group of people galvanizing and protesting against Donny’s efforts, yet how much are we really willing to sacrifice? We still are really into our creature comforts, spare time, and Game of Thrones. I’m no better. I really like having the Internet and organic tomatoes. Isn’t there a way we can keep living our self-obsessed narcissistic lives, but without all the horror?

    So whoever the alien species from the Palladian system that rule us are – the heads of business and industry that are holding on to their power so tightly that they are willing to sacrifice the future of humanity for their private jets. If you want to keep all your money and world domineering power, fine. Do it. But rather than oil and war for your investments, can you just make all your money with wind energy or some eco shit that isn’t creating DARPA induced mega storms? I don’t care if you have more money than god. Won’t make a difference in my life. You can be as greedy as you like, but can’t you just make all your money in a non-evil way so, I don’t know, the rest of us can keep living?

    Here is a picture of a stuffed bear holding stuffed bears because FEELINGS!

    September 7, 2017 • Current Events, Environmental Impact, Musings, Political Banter • Views: 706

  • A Plea For Economic Social Terrorism

    Now that it’s no longer “International Women’s Day,” I notice that no one is thanking me for having a vagina. Where are all my Facebook shout outs for housing a womb to house a child? What kind of shit is this?

    The problem with the current state of activism is that social issues have become trendy. You’ll go on your Facebook newsfeed, and a gaggle of friends who think the same as you will post the same array of information. Once that trend get’s boring, it’s then no longer “cool” to post about. But social issues don’t go away just because they do on Facebook. There is still conflict in Palestine even when Banksy isn’t tagging walls.

    When causes become commodities for social capital, they may get a momentary bump in ratings, but they lose their audience once the next cause premiers on the red carpet. I went to an event the other day where these monks were talking about persecution in Tibet and their need for support and I was like, “Ummm no you’re wrong… Tibet is free, remember? I went to that concert in 1996.”

    We lose our stamina for social causes because we get protest fatigue, and then need Viagra for our activism. In the midst of our busy lives, it’s hard to schedule in “fight against tyranny.” Do I do that before or after I watch the OA? There is a sense of irony at play because the reason we agree to the concept of a goverenment in the first place is because most of us don’t WANT to think about the nuances of how a collective society functions. We prefer to defer to the Mommy and Daddy of our political system to take care of us, (or in our case in the U.S.A., mostly Daddy). Yet because we have given our power over to those that we assume “know better,” we then have to be even more diligent politically to make sure they don’t abuse their power. So in wanting freedom from the responsibility associated with having no government, we consequently lose our freedoms because of the corruption of government.

    As Trump tweets about which gender can fart in which bathroom, he’s simultaneously de-regulating business and allowing for a future of MAJOR environmental assault. Trump’s crusade against “fake news” has strangely inspired news outlets to report on their own fakeness rather than the fact that Trump’s making deals and longterm contracts for his businesses. The way this presidency is going to effect the future is terrifying when you think of how Trump prioritizes profit over the planet at every turn. Beyond Trump’s gross nature of giving chicks the “shocka,” this current regime has ZERO respect for the very real impact of business our ecosystem – which incidentally is the ONLY PLANET we have to live on. We are NOT Elon Musk and can’t afford Mars!

    Half the country is freaking out right now. We see the problematic nature of this Post-Apocalyptic Trump world, and want to do something. I like the spirit behind the call for strikes, but I think we can do more. One problem with the strategy of strikes is that if you are not of a certain social class, and believe you can’t make that kind of financial risk, you feel alienated. Also, there seems to be relatively wishy-washy outcomes. Why wasn’t there a specific demand for the strike on International Lady Day? How about women strike until the Supreme Court is ruled by a majority of women – much like it has been ruled by a majority of men since the birth of this cuntree? But the suggestion to “not go to work so guys realize how important we are” doesn’t exactly change the world. Simply wanting to be honored is too vague. We need be making clear demands, with clear outcomes, and clear deliverables. It’s not like the terrorists in Bruce Willis movies just want to be seen. No! They want x amount of cash, a private plane to get away, and to die just after hearing some pithy comeback like “yippee ka yay mother fucker.”

    So this is my plea: let’s engage in acts of economic social terrorism. I don’t think black people should pay taxes until reparations have been given, and the prison industrial complex has been abolished. I don’t think students should pay student loans until that exploitive system has been re-established and the cost of education brought down. I don’t think any of us should pay health insurance companies or our medical bills until we have universal health care. And if you are anti war, and believe that our military is one the LARGEST contributors to global warming, and terrorism, and is the greatest threat to the future of humanity, then do not pay the 21% of your taxes that go to supporting that system.

    If we all organize and refuse to participate in the economic structure that tyrannizes us, we will be heard. And guess what? There isn’t the infrastructure to come after us individually. It would be a bureaucratic nightmare. We could shut down the White House and Wall Street, and we don’t need guns to do it. We just need to be aligned.

    If we want change it’s not going to be through sporadic involvement. Change comes by kicking the system in the balls… where it hurts… with MONEY!

  • Can’t I Get Paid To Just Be Me?

    The first trauma we experience as humans is birth. At one minute you’re floating in a warm pink gelatinous ecosystem, and the next you’re squeezed mercilessly by the only home you’ve ever know, ejected into a cold world full of unknown dangers, then slapped on the ass by some stranger. No wonder why the first thing babies due fresh from the puss is cry.

    The shock of birth is so harrowing that our minds file it under, “never remember.” When The Munch started talking at one year old I asked her, “do you remember what it was like to be inside my tummy?” and this was her answer: “Yes, it was more gentle.” I then asked her, “Do you remember what it was like to be born?” and she ran out of the room screaming. TRUE STORY!!!

    The second great trauma of our lives is the transition into adulthood. That moment where you realize that you are fully responsible for your own wellbeing, no one is going to save you, and you have to take care of yourself. No longer can you look for a grownup to protect you, because you are the grownup – one that’s expected to make money, own property, and commodify your identity around a “career.”

    The ideal is to find a job that feeds your soul, aligns with your values, and makes you feel like you have some sort of meaning to your life. Yet when I think about what my struggle has been, I have to admit it’s been getting over the harsh realization that no one is going to pay me for just being me.

    It was probably insane for me to ever assume that, and it wasn’t a conscious expectation. It was more this underlying current that powered my thinking. Retrospectively I can see how absurd that desire was. If you were to ask a little kid today, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” they have the social awareness to answer you with a phrase that makes sense. They conceptualize a character they plan to fit into. A policeman… a fireman… an astronaut… a vampire. They intuitively know is never okay to say, “I’m just gonna be me when I grow up.”

    But aren’t I delightful???? Isn’t being me enough for the world?

    NO! It’s not!! Not even close!!

    Most of my 20’s I was trying to squeeze myself into mold that I thought “success” looked like. I wanted to save the world from a catastrophic future filled with genetically modified nightmares, and my vision was to start a socially responsible businesses that would re-imagine industry. Those were some lofty ambitions for a girl who spent most nights ripping bong hits… but I worked hard!! Yet go figure – I guess investors usually want people with “experience,” and have a “history of success” that don’t eat liquid acid on a random Tuesday afternoon. WHATEVER!

    Just because I believe I can do something doesn’t mean anyone else does. I have to PROVE I am capable, and part of that process is fraught with strategy, compromise, and more strategy. I have to think about how I’m being perceived AND how to create financial value from my creations. Of course I can spend my time creating for the sake of creating, but unless I can eat a dick joke, I have to translate my efforts into dollars.

    But you guys, don’t you ever feel oppressed by the pressures of modern society? Don’t you think we would all be happier if we switched to a barter economy and didn’t have to worry our place in the capitalist system? Is money really what we should be spending our precious time on this earth acquiring? Don’t you think the mass production of products is raping our souls and the planet? Yeah the US military is the number one contributor of global warming, but there is still a vast amount of pollution caused by the manufacturing of mostly pointless goods. What if we all collectively decided that we have enough stuff? We could just trade shit and free ourselves from the psychological tax of dollars and cents.

    The economic burden that consumes us is supported by the marketing machine that makes us feel that we are less than. The more insecure we feel the more we assume that buying things will make us feel complete. Material objects end up becoming what we strive for rather than experience, human connection, and memories. There is this new age liberal rhetoric keeps suggested if we would only come together, then we wouldn’t be at the mercy of corporations and government. But how can we come together when everyone is fighting on Facebook all the time? What if social media was invented not to unite us, but to destroy us with our own bullshit closed minded opinions??!!

    Maybe it’s the impending doom of WW3, or maybe I’m just bitter because I don’t make money with my vagina puppet play? Just kidding… it’s not a play – BUT AN IMAX FILM I AM DEVELOPING FOR THE MASSES!

    You guys… these vagina puppets don’t just make themselves you know…

    unknown-3

    images

    October 27, 2016 • Musings • Views: 991

  • Is There a Point Of Excellent Talents When They Don’t Make You Money?!

    It’s hard to make a living doing what you are truly passionate about. It’s one thing to get a job that makes money – but it’s another to have a career that feeds your soul to the point where you can’t wait to wake up in the morning and get back to work! Even when you are able to do something you truly love, there will still be all sorts of bullshit, crap, and poop you don’t want to do, but HAVE to anyway.

    Society only honors hobbies once you fully commodify them. Culture measures worth on intrinsic material value, yet not all of our personal goals line up with the metrics of Wall Street. I bet most of our greatest skills are things that can’t be sold on the free market.

    When I think the abilities that I naturally excel at, I don’t see a place for them in the adult world. For instance, I am amazing at parallel parking. Seriously. I’ve had many a stranger clap for my tight squeezes with minimal wheel effort. But where can I take that? To the valet parking world? Not really – because most of the time they are pulling into spaces. My talents would be wasted!

    I am also unbelievable at Tiger Woods Golf on PlayStation circa 2003-2005. I mean… not to brag… but I’m probably one of the best east of the Mississippi. My only condition is that I have to be stoned, and cookies MUST be baking in the oven. Yet I can’t support myself playing Tiger Woods Golf ☹ There are no international competitions that I could enter! And if there were, I can’t play the game on our modern PlayStation 3… it HAS to be 2! My only hope would be to get a flux capacitor, make a time machine, harvest plutonium, and stay in 2004 forever!

    Is there something that I can do with my epic gift to text really really super fast? AND WITHOUT LOOKING! Why doesn’t anybody care that I can find the perfect emoji to express disdain without being offensive faster than a cowboy can draw his gun!?

    I bet you have 1,000 skills that no one will pay you for, but you are fucking amazingly excellent anyway!

    (Me in my Tiger Woods Days)

    toni mona 190 est 7th

    September 14, 2015 • Musings • Views: 1112

  • Politics Make me Want to Puke, Pee, and Poop (Explaining Voting to My Child)

    Okay… so the GOP swept the house and senate. That happened. I do not consider myself a democrat because I believe corporate interests also control them, but at least there is progressive pressure on their asses – you know, being donkeys and all. From a foreign policy perspective both parties prioritize profit, war, and oil – but when it comes to domestic social services there will be a tangible impact by a republican ruled legislative branch of government. Considering I was thinking of gay-marrying medical marijuana and then aborting our baby for stem cell research to save the lives of immigrant children displaced by global warming catastrophes before attending a rally to raise taxes for atheist convicted felons to stay off death row – things are looking pretty grim.

    I want to be hopeful, but in truth I just want to puke, pee, and then poop. In that order, because if I pooped, peed, and then puked, the puking would be infinitely extended by the existing contents in the toilet. You can poop on puke, but you cannot puke on poop. Sorry I am not sorry about all those visuals.

    Yesterday when going to vote, I tried to explain politics to The Munch. Yeah fine she is only four, so her understanding of government is limited. Yet at the same time she is not that much different than many of the voting adults. Munch isn’t exactly “informed” about the complexity of the issues, but she has emotional reactions regardless. It is not like the vast majority of Americans are talking about the long-term impact of sanctions in Iran, or the fact that the US is currently involved in 134 wars. The discussion isn’t about the petrol dollar, and how the entire US economy is dependent on a scam to trade oil in the US dollar despite our inflating the value. People don’t vote because of vast research, they more likely vote because of party lines or passionate triggers.

    It is not that people are dumb; it is more that the information is hidden behind rhetoric or a misinformed media that is beholden to advertising dollars. Digging for the truth through conspiracy theories about lizard people ruling the planet to harvest human blood for the Palidian elite takes time. Also, it is confusing what to do even when you do spend ample time educating yourself on the ins and outs of the belly button of bureaucracy. It is not that I fancy myself a political analyst; I just know I am being lied to, and the main agenda is money/power.

    So here is my conversation with Munch trying to explain the importance of voting… I think she gets it.

    Munch: Why are we stopping here? What are we doing?
    Me: We have to go vote.
    Munch: I don’t want to go vote. I want to go home and get in my cozy bed.
    Me: So do I. But we have to vote because it is important.
    Munch: What is voting?
    Me: Well you know how we live in New Hampshire? There are these people that we vote into office that we think will best represent our interests.
    Munch: I don’t get it.
    Me: Well, you know how we have laws and rules of conduct? Well, there is a system that dictates this. We vote for people to make decisions about what we can and cannot do, and what we can and cannot get. They also figure out how we interact with other states, and even countries. Basically, the people we vote into office have power over the way we do things. They have the power because they decide where the money goes.
    Munch: Why do we want people to have power? I don’t get it.
    Me: Well, it is a way of organizing ourselves so there is order to humanity. We vote people into power, and they make decisions that affect all of our lives – but that way we can just live our lives and not have to worry about making those decisions.
    Munch: I don’t get it. Why don’t we just all take care of each other rather than people having power?
    Me: I don’t get it either.
    Munch: I have to poop.
    Me: Me too.

    politics-poop-blog-(i)

  • Can I buy my Happiness online?

    When I was a young child life was much different.  If I wanted something, I actually had to go to store and find it.  Doesn’t that sound wild? Almost as extreme as having to walk 9-miles to school, in the snow, with the wind blowing in my face both directions while wearing shoes made of Kleenex boxes.

    There was no online shopping in the 80’s.  So as a 5-years old when I really wanted Teddy Ruxpin for Christmas, my parents had to drive around for hours searching for him.  After a whole day of their lives was spent frantically going in and out of Toys R Us’ they finally found my precious talking bear- only to find out that the reason I had wanted him was to see how he worked, and then didn’t give a flying fuck about him anymore.

    Okay, that was a dick move on my part.  But it wasn’t totally my fault.  Teddy Ruxpin looked so seductive in the commercials.  Like he was the Charmin bear come to life.  Once I realized you just stuck a tape in his ass so he could tell you some asinine story, the novelty quickly wore off.  But don’t blame me alone.  Blame the marketers! The ad guys! I was not a spoiled little shit!

    The Munch lives a pretty sheltered life, I am willing to admit that, but one day I mentioned the concept of buying something online for her.  She really wanted foot pajamas like her cousin Calvin, but Target didn’t have any.  So I explained I would get the jammas on the computer while she was sleeping. This was a strange concept for The Munch to understand, but once they came in the mail she was pumped.

    My issue with online shopping is that there is no effort involved.  I mean besides flapping your fingers around on a keyboard.  This breeds a disconnect between the thing you think you want, and what you are actually are buying.  The idea of material objects is irrationally seductive. Hey computer, I WANT ALL THOSE LEGGINGS!

    But when you are actually shopping and holding something in your hand, you have to identify with it more than if it were just on a screen.  Of course there are extreme cases of shopaholics where the act of spending and acquiring goods is a rush, but even if you have a semi-normal relationship to consumerism, it can still be corrupted in the ethereal world of the Internet. Not only do I want all those wrap-around dresses, but I WANT THEM TODAY!

    I didn’t realize that this concept had been so deeply imprinted into The Munch’s psyche until she was visiting with my mom this weekend.  She saw a doll catalogue that my mom (who The Munch calls Manna) had lying around.  Why my mom has doll catalogues floating around her house is yet to be determined, but once The Munch found it she was flooded with things that she desperately desired.

    Munch: “Manna, I want this doll right here.”

    Manna: “Well, there is no store to get that doll right now.”

    Munch: “You can get it on the computer.”

    Manna: “Oh I can?”

    Munch: “Yes go on the computer and you can pay for it.”

    Manna: “Okay.”

    Munch: “I wanna see.  I wanna see too!”

    Manna: “Alright well sit next to me.”

    Munch: “I want that baby too!”

    Manna: “Munch, you already have that baby.”

    Munch: “NO I DON’T!”

    Manna: “Yes you do, that is the same as Water Baby, just with a different outfit on.”

    Munch: “NO THAT IS A DIFFERENT BABY”

    Manna: “Pretty sure I know my babies and that is the same as the one you have.”

    Munch: “Can I get that baby then?”

    Manna: “Okay but for your birthday.”

    Munch: “Can I get the stroller too?”

    Manna: “The running stroller?”

    Munch: “YES!!”

    Manna: “Okay.  Done.  The baby and the running stroller on their way.”

    Munch: “But I want to have them now.”

    Manna: “You can’t have them now they are coming in the mail.”

    Munch: “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! I WANT TO HAVE THEM NOW!!!!!!!!”

    The proceeded to fight about The Munch wanting her toys now and my mom saying she had to wait.  So my mom calls me on the phone to fill me in..

    Manna: “Your daughter is absolutely insane did you know that?”

    Toni: “I did.  But why now?”

    Manna: “Well she made me order some things for her online, and she was angry that they weren’t here right away.  So then she used my phone to have a pretend conversation with you and said ‘Mamma, get me my fucking stroller now!’”

    Toni: “Maybe the new family rule should be no more online shopping.”

    Manna: “Maybe you should stop swearing around her too.”

    Toni: “Maybe I fucking should.”

    online-blog-(i)