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  • My Life Pretty Much Sucks, How About You?

    Some of the happiest I’ve ever been is when I was on drugs. There was one time where I took liquid acid in nature, at 11 in the morning, and even though I was with two other people we spent the entire day alone – exploring the wilderness and laughing to ourselves at the absurdity of existence. I’ve done cocaine on the beaches of Costa Rica, ecstasy in clubs in New York, mushrooms on a mountain. I’ve giggled to the point of near insanity on weed, and truly felt the oneness of all things… also on weed. The common link of those experiences that brought so much bliss was this sense of freedom of forgetting myself. Allowing my identity to slither away into the background, leaving behind my worries about the future and anxieties about the past. Of course some of my worst memories are on drugs too – puking off a balcony for 3 hours, waking up on to the sound of my own puking on a grimy bathroom floor, and desperately shoving my fist down my throat attempting to puke because I ligit poisoned myself. So… everything has a price.

    Of course the happiness experienced with drugs is synthetic and manufactured. It’s not the same as the deep cultivated happiness that comes from a genuinely good time. There are many cases when I’ve experienced that authentic type of joy as well, but it’s hard to come by, and only visits in the most unexpected moments. You have to wait and around and see if it will come, and sometimes like that Dad that went out for cigarettes, it can take a minute before it comes back.

    What is happiness really? It’s such an illusive feeling, yet something we all seek. According to the American constitution it is even our RIGHT to be happy! Can you believe that? It’s my god give right to be happy!!! Yet despite our forefathers insisting on it’s availability I find myself chasing happiness, trying to capture it in a cage it can always escape from.

    Maybe the quest for happiness, that assumption that happiness is something I deserve, is part of the problem. Contentment seems like a more reasonable goal to strive for. I don’t need a happy life; I would just like to feel content. Perhaps I would feel more content if I wasn’t so focused on wanting happiness? I should see happiness for what she is… a flighty sprite who dips in and out of life at a whim – a gift not to hold onto, but to set free for others to find.

    CAN YOU GUYS TELL I’VE BEEN HAVING A HARD TIME!?

    This is what’s going on with me. For one… my back went into spasm. AGAIN!! This JUST happened to me last month so I’m kind of wanting to shoot myself in the face. The problem with my back going into spasm is not only am I in state of constant agony, but also my limited ability to move takes away my main sources of joy. I can’t dance when my back is in spasm, and dancing is my antidepressant. The minute I enter into the dance studio I feel like nothing else matters. I love teaching, I love my students, and I love the journey we go on together. I always leave with a renewed sense of purpose. Who cares if I just got rejected from that film festival, I taught a woman to twerk today!

    With my back debilitating me, I also can’t make my videos, or write because sitting is so excruciating; I can’t do anything that feeds my soul and spirit. I just have to exist. WHICH I AM NOT GOOD AT!

    Doing nothing but allowing myself to rest and heal is my PERSONAL HELL! Relaxing has become super stressful for me. So instead I try to be really proactive about my getting better, and work really hard at it. Yeah yeah, I get the irony too. But I have shit to do, places to go, and adventure to be had. I did not schedule in debilitating discomfort!

    So far on this back pain journey I’ve seen my acupuncture lady and had her jab her needles in me – 3 times. I’ve been drinking the Chinese herbs she gave me that taste like licking the taint of Satan. I’ve done meditations, picked tarot cards, sat with my suffering, did ceremonies of gratitude, and drank more demon brew.

    It’s been my thinking that I have to dive into the esoteric when I’m experiencing discomfort because there is this part of me that believes I deserve these moments of pain. I see my misery as a lesson – a teacher to tell me how I’m not living life right. So I self-reflect; convinced my back pain is an emotional necessity of my development.

    In the midst of dealing with this back drama, I wake up Sunday morning and go downstairs to choke down some Chinese herbs/devil drink. As I’m retching, I absentmindedly feel my neck. There’s something there. I knew right away it was an embedded tick. I hobbled to bathroom praying… but when I look in the mirror my stomach drops. There was a deer tick sucking away at my blood like a mini Dracula, yet with less sexual swagger.

    Now if you don’t live in New England and don’t have your prerequisite PHD on tick breeds, deer ticks are the bad kind – the kind that carries Lyme. Lyme is the most feared disease of the North East. There is no real cure. It affects everyone differently. It can fuck you up for life. Lyme is like the AIDS of New England. I checked the tick’s dick to see if it was wearing a condom.

    I knew it had been on me for while. Because of my back I hadn’t exactly been showring, so I was not doing daily tick checks. I also didn’t even think of it because I hadn’t been outside either, and was too busy watching old Twin Peaks episodes. But my cat sleeps in my bed so I guess it had crawled off her and on to me? I got tweezers and pulled the tick off, wishing David Lynch was directing my life because this was a great moment for red curtains and a little person to speak backwards yet forwards.

    I stared at the tick that was still holding onto a huge chunk of my neck with his little mouth-claws. I then looked at the bite. Holy fuck he was really in there.

    I put him in jar and sat there watching at him. He crawled along the sides of the glass, still carrying a piece of my throat with him. We were bonded for life now.

    I staggered to my car with my tick, threw some pillows on the seat so I could attempt to drive, and headed to the hospital to get him tested. Yeah… so it turns out hospitals don’t really appreciate you’re bringing ticks to them.

    Nurse: You need to have your physician call first.
    Toni: It’s Sunday… and Memorial Day weekend? How is that going to happen?
    Nurse: Sorry. You’re gonna have to take your tick and leave.

    So I did just that. I gathered up my tick and left. At this point I’ve fully developed Stockholm syndrome, carrying my tick around from place to place, feeling the need to take care of it. I put a piece of grass in the jar in case it got hungry, buckled him up in my kid’s car seat so he would stay safe, and then named him Noam – hoping that like his name sake Chomsky, this tick would fill my blood with knowledge about the political system in the Middle East and not Lyme.

    Noam and I headed to my acupuncture lady – for the 4th time in 4 days. She did her best to suck the poison out by stabbing the bite a few times with a needle. She then light some shit on fire and “cupped” the bite. With a giant hicky on my neck, she sent me on my way. Noam and I got back in the car, because of course I brought him in the house with me so he didn’t get lonely. Before driving off, I stuck my head out the window.

    Toni: Wait? What should I do about my back? It’s still really bad?
    Acupuncture lady: Keep drinking herbal.
    Toni: Right.

    While driving home my physician finally called back and said I have to send the tick away to get it tested, but I can’t until Tuesday because of the holiday weekend. She suggested I put a small piece of wet paper towel in the jar to keep some moisture in.

    I bring Noam home, and set up his new apartment in the jar with some Ikea furniture. He’s officially my pet now. I feel love for him. It’s not his fault that global warming means more ticks to destroy humanity. He’s doing his best.

    The next day I see my healer. My back is a mess. My bite is festering. My emotional state is borderline Jack in The Shining because I haven’t been able to sleep. I’ve been having nightmares every night about ticks and bugs crawling all over me, and keep waking up in a panic to check my body. And my stomach is a mess from all the herbs, aka the secretions of Lucifer’s loins.

    The healer and I talk about my back and the reality that I’ve been getting about five back spasms a year for the last five years and how to solve the problem of this chronic pain. I can’t take it any more. I don’t know what else I have to learn about myself. How much more self-reflecting I can do? I’m done thinking about me. I’m boring myself.

    Healer: I don’t think this pain is emotional. I think it’s skeletal. Your hips are so torqued and twisted.
    Toni: Do you think it’s from my pregnancy?
    Healer: No.
    Toni: Car accident?
    Healer: No?
    Toni: Well, I guess this all started when I was in the 5th grade. That’s the first time I remember getting this kind of back pain. At the time I was jumping on the trampoline about 6 hours a day so…
    Healer: It’s the trampoline.

    Right.

    Where everything stands now is not only is my back still all fucked, but also my hips, AND my right foot from walking so weird because of my fucked up back and hips. So now I have this shooting pain in my foot and can’t walk on it. Turns out it’s nerve damage. Cool. I look so hot in crutches – the perfect tool to impale myself with.

    Even though I can see how this is a physical misalignment of my bones, I still did learn a lot emotional soul searching from this current bought of suffering. Might as well since I have the time right and can’t work?

    First. I keep hearing about horrible things happening in other peoples’ lives – stories of friends that had a fire at their home, friends that lost a child. These real devastations that force me to realize how lucky I am. How lucky most of us are most of the time. There is so much potential for tragedy in this world, and it’s a blessing when you are not experiencing it. Perspective is crucial when feeling sorry for yourself because most of my pain is of my own making.

    I also realized that I’m motivated by the wrong sources. Much like a car that is powered with dirty fossil fuels, I need to shift what drives me. I need to become electric.

    When I was in my 20’s I wanted to change the world. I was politically motivated, and compelled by social consciousness. I had so many ideas of how I would make a difference, and even though my visions had merit, my executions never panned out. I got discouraged by life, and started to see the whole system as rigged. I felt useless in this paradigm of the New World Order and lizard elite with their alien DNA pulling the strings of the hallucinatory global economy. What could I possibly do considering all the massive corruption and greed that is the guiding principal of everything? I’m just some 25 year old that no one takes seriously.

    In the midst of this despondency and desperate feeling I was meaningless, I got pregnant. There is this assumption that a baby ties you down, but in a certain way it frees you. After the birth of my child, the world became so small. This infant was my world and nothing else mattered but her eating and sleeping. It was so simple. Just love this baby and keep her alive. It was this profound break from not only my own troubles, but also the troubles of the planet. This time in my life was like an altered state, the ultimate drug experience. I escaped into this sweet bubble of caring for my baby.

    As the Munch grew and I had more time for myself, I had to redefine who I was. I had to get to know myself again. There was less time to be spent on mothering, but now what? I was no longer living in New York City, and sequestered amongst trees. That’s why I started writing, and making art more seriously. I had always dabbled, but seen it as a hobby. Something shifted in me. I figured maybe I couldn’t change the world from the bowels of rural New Hampshire, but I could at least try to entertain it?

    Yet somewhere along way, my motivation of why I do the things I do got convoluted. I’m no longer in that adolescent state of my 20’s when anything seems possible. I’m in my 30’s. Reality and responsibilities color my every decision. I need to have a career. I need to figure out my place in this world. I want my art to be that driver. I don’t know if it ever will. But there is a pressure that sits on my chest making it had to breathe.

    Yet I can now see the only motivation I need is not one of success, or recognition, but rather to be propelled by the same force of my 20s – that naïve belief that I can make a difference in this corrupted world. Idealism gets beaten out of us so easily because of the overwhelming task of it all, but fuck that. I don’t want to be cynical. I want to be impassioned by the same ignorance of my youth. The benign belief that if you try hard enough, shit will change. It will get better even if it is just in your small corner of the world. Even if my only true contribution to society is that because of me, a woman can pulse her pelvis to the beat of hip-hop music at my dance studio.

    Noam with his paper towel.

    Noam’s apartment.

    My tearful goodbye, sending Noam away.

    The culprit… my cat.

  • I Can’t Play With You!!

    It’s really hard to play with my kid. My brain has been corrupted by adulthood. I no longer have an imagination that can travel off to distant lands where vampire kitties can fly. I don’t know how to lose myself in a fantasy world because the so-called real world in front of me is so goddamn consuming. All my imagination has transmuted into anxiety about the end of humanity and trying desperately to envision a future where I no longer torture myself with endless craving. HAVE I MADE IT YET?

    Playing with The Munch is challenging. As she’s busy making up a world where bunnies pick daffodils made of sugar, I’m instead obsessing about how Mitch McConnell is to blame for the Trump presidency. I can’t lose myself in the moment, and keep trying to make the chipmunks talk about universal health care.

    It’s my own fault though. When you have an only child, you end up having to play with them more than if you had more kids. In many ways having one kid is MUCH easier as a parent. I have more freedom. It’s easier to find childcare. If I asked you to watch my one kid for the afternoon you’d most likely say yes. But if I asked you to watch my 3 kids for ten minutes you would probably lie to get out of it right? I think there is a major misconception that having more kids doesn’t make that much of a difference because you already have one – so why not add a few more? NOPE WRONG! The difference between having one kid and two is almost as profound as having zero kids and one. The amount of need you deal with is added exponentially with each kid. The equation is something like one child squared to the 10th power.

    Yet when you have a bigger family, the kids are more of a pack. They play together leaving you more free time to yourself to clean up after them. I don’t have that. Lucky for me The Munch has many friends and plenty of play dates, but there are inevitable moments where she looks to me to be the one to act out scene 7 of the mermaids that are astronauts’ saga.

    But you guys…. I think I have the answer to satisfy my inability to free my mind from the burden of hyper awareness about the destruction of world, and my daughter’s insistence on playing with me… a solution besides getting really high I mean.

    We now play political games.

    These games have been a profound journey because I get to learn what my 6-year old thinks about political policy. It is both equally awe inspiring and depressing.

    The Munch: Okay so Ariel the mermaid is a princess, so that means she’s royalty.
    Toni: What does it mean to be royalty?
    The Munch: It means you have to be kind and gentle and you have to like solving problems. Oh, and you have to love everybody.
    Toni: How do you become royal?
    The Munch: Well Ariel’s dad was royal and his dad was royal and his dad was royal and his dad was royal…
    Toni: Who was the first royal person though? Why did they need royalty.
    The Munch: Because everything was so confusing and the mermaids wanted someone to help create solutions to problems.
    Toni: I see. In the human world royalty is kind of different – so I like what the mermaids are doing.
    The Munch: What do the human royals care about?
    Toni: Mostly power, that’s why the humans have so many wars.
    The Munch: The mermaids have wars too. But they are silly wars.
    Toni: What’s a silly war?
    The Munch: Well, there are no weapons because they are too dangerous. They don’t want to hurt the other animals or fish in the ocean with war and weapons. So it’s a splash tail war. They just splash each other with their tails on the top of he water… like this.
    Toni: That makes a lot of sense.
    The Munch: So how were the first people made?
    Toni: How do you think the first people were made.
    The Munch: Ummm I think there was a ghost lady that has always been here – she’s never been born or anything. And that ghost lady created all the people and the earth and the planet and the stars and the mermaids.
    Toni: You’re probably right.

    This is the set up for tonight’s game. It’s called “Hey congress, rape is not a pre-existing condition.”

  • The Fragile Male Ego

    I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist, a brain surgeon, or even someone who knows how to toast a waffle to recognize the ego battle between US President Donald Tr… excuse me I just gagged a little… Donald Trump and North Korean Prime Minster Kim Jong-Un. So much of our current foreign policy seems to be a theatric display of men playing Star Wars, using their dicks as lightsabers, and the world as their playground for destruction. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not ready to die because of the massive ego of a small-handed man. Even though the Trump regime is trying to make us fear North Korea, the real person to fear is Trump, his volatile personality, and irrational taunting. In truth, the world is and should be much more afraid of America than we should be afraid of the rest of the world, because so far, we’re the only one’s who have ever dropped nuclear weapons. SAD!

    The US has been at war for 224 years since the “birth” of the country in 1776.That means we’ve only been a peaceful nation for 17 years? How is this okay? Where wars waged mostly by men are the ruling influence on the planet? Yes of course there is profit to war. Yes there are resources to exploit. Yes there are colonies to be made. Yes there is this constant pursuit of power – but WHY? Why is this a world of competition not cooperation? Isn’t it so dreadfully clear that this psychology is vastly destructive? Even though women are a part of the military and a part of the political system, it is clear that the majority of our war mongering history has been initiated by men. What is the root behind all the violence?

    Is Donald Trump’s ego the ultimate manifestation of the male ego that’s been in power for the last couple of millennia?

    The fragile male ego is perhaps the most elusive force on the planet. It has a mysterious power unbeknownst to even the most learned astrophysicist. More prevalent than dark matter, and beholds a powerful vacuum that rivals the black hole in the center of our galaxy. It has taken over the planet, and all of humanity bows to its glory. The male ego is the driving force of our economic system, political system, and even the solar system.

    That isn’t to say that ladies don’t have egos. Ohhhhh we do. Of course we do. But the lady ego is not in power. If the lady ego were the standard, we would be competing about who has the most beautiful gardens/national parks, which army’s outfits fit the best, and who hosted the most delicious country-wide bake sale. Maybe there would be some disagreements regarding who is the most popular dictator, but we would deal with that by gossiping behind each other’s backs… NOT BLOWING PEOPLE UP WITH NUCLEAR MISSILES!!!!!!!!!

    Come to think of it, would the lady ego have even developed the nuclear bomb? I THINK NOT! Perhaps a cosmic clam but it would simply be cozy place to store our enemies while we taunted them by offering cookies with BOTH gluten and sugar. “Here you go. Have a delicious cookie. Just remember, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on your hips you lady terrorist who terrorized me by hiding my tampons on day 2 of my period! All I had was toilet paper. It was a mess!”

    That is a world run by the lady ego. Is that reductive? YES! Of course but only because it’s impossible to imagine how ladies would run the world without male influence. Every element of society has been influenced by the male identity, and women have just learned to squeeze ourselves in, not revolutionize it.

    But the male ego, the fragile male ego. Holy shit. They make bombs that look like their dicks that dick over an entire nation in a matter of seconds by coming too fast and all over their metaphoric face. It’s a lot. It’s a lot to take in.

    Yet, I am an equal opportunity genital person. I don’t want to attack men all willy-nilly. It’s important that I display empathy and compassion. I would like to get to the root chakra of this conundrum of why the male ego is more fragile than a Faberge Egg?

    Is it because of his highly sensitive exposed scrotum? Just flopping in the wind, bouncing around as he walks. Does the extremely delicate balls sack motivate a deep fear in men, because they have to spend so much mental energy protecting them? Is there an angst I can’t understand because my genitals are all tucked in a like a suitcase, durable, and prepared for a journey? Yet all it would take for me to destroy a man is access to his balls. I could take them, turn them around in my hands like those metal Chinese Baoding balls for a while, and then, when the moment was right, squeeze the shit out of one until POP! Is that the problem? Is the tenuous sate of a man’s unprotected testes why we have nuclear war?

    Perhaps the boner is the main source of the male ego. I can imagine a boner is a very stressful thing. Again, a difficulty we women don’t have. I have never experienced performance anxiety about my boner. Of course a woman can be dry when she is not turned on, yet both parties can pretend that’s not happening with some spit, lube, coconut oil, of course the slime collected in packaged meat. There is an easy fix for the lack of lady boners. But when a man can’t get a boner, there is not much one can do about it except look at his flaccid penis and say, “it’s okay little guy. Better luck next time.”

    Maybe I’m wrong. I’m open to being wrong. But then you tell me why! Why is the male ego so goddamn fragile that he will rape, pillage, and bomb the shit out of countries just to prove its existence? Aren’t there other ways to make money and feel powerful? Like say, create an app, or start a podcast.

    April 20, 2017 • Current Events, emotions, Political Banter, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff • Views: 641

  • My Soul Has Blue Balls

    Hi. I’m Toni. And my soul has blue balls.

    Not because my life is bad. My life is fine. I just want more out of all of it. A lot of energy is spent picking apart the pieces of my life and wanting more – a mixture between chasing feelings and running from them in an endless marathon of avoidance. I don’t care if my glass is half empty or half full; I just want to know if it’s big enough for me to bathe in? Yet within this context of swirling around in an existential shame spiral of my own making, I turn my attention to world events, and the nightmare of modern times. I’m overcome with massive guilt around caring so deeply about my own life, when so much of the world is suffering. I wake up in the morning happy to be alive, then the overall malaise and general dissatisfaction sweeps over me. I think about myself, wondering if it’s possible to feel truly satisfied with my career, but then realize Donald Trump is still President – and a deep panic sets in. But then I remember how stress will give me wrinkles, so I turn my attention back to thinking about me, and wondering if the world will ever truly appreciate my anti-feminist feminist post-modern modern world view?

    I make it to my kitchen to prepare for the day and listen to Noam Chomsky on “Democracy Now” talk about how we are at the brink of nuclear war. I think to myself “You need do something about this Toni! Noam is not dumb, or alarmist. He must be right!” But then the show is over, and I’ve eaten my breakfast, so I go back to thinking about me. My brain trails to the very important question of, “is it really crucial to change your underwear daily?”

    I then get into my car to drive my kid to school and listen to the “Radiolab Podcast” discuss how at any moment, Trump could start a nuclear war. There is truly no one to stop him. Horrified, and in disbelief, I think to myself, “Jesus Christ Toni, this is a big fucking deal! What are you gonna do about it?” But then the show ends, and a sweet folk singer comes on the radio singing about grinning at her reflection in a spoon. So I go back to thinking about me again – and how I haven’t been to the dentist since 2003 and should smile less in public.

    I then go home and work on my computer. I spend an hour composing the perfect equal opportunity genital joke, and then check Facebook for a break. I see a post that reads, “How long did it take Trump to put the Threat of nuclear annihilation back on the table? Less then four months?” I start to sweat profusely, and ask myself, “Toni, are you seriously going to live your life as a passive bystander with the possibility of nuclear missals being launched into the sky?” but that makes me think of a funny dick joke, so I go back to that.

    You guys!! I can’t stop thinking about myself even though the world might be coming to an end! Am I the only one? Can we have a support group for people who care enough to have major anxiety about world events, but still enjoy fixating on their own meager existence? It’s so hard to be simmultaniously self-obsessed and world-obsessed. It’s like every time I’m about to metaphorically cum thinking about my own life, awareness seeps in reminding me that my individual concerns are insignificant compared to the bigger picture. I feel so alone. Hold me.

    Here I am… in the snow… wearing a T-shirt… thinking about me, despite global warming.

    April 12, 2017 • ambitions, Current Events, emotions, Musings, Political Banter, problems • Views: 711

  • Donald Trump Self-Esteem

    I think the one thing we can all learn from Donald Trump, is how to maintain unwavering positive self-esteem, even in the face of total failure. His confidence is remarkable! He doesn’t care about the approval of others! If people aren’t into him, he just thinks it’s a lie constructed by the fake news made up of a bunch of dummies. Trump’s sassier then the sassy friend in a movie who knows how to sass it up!

    I don’t know about you guys, but I could use some of that Trump-esteem. My life is filled with rejection. I am constantly dealing with people telling me, “thanks, but no thanks.” It’s hard to keep going in the face of that. When you work in a creative field, you have to be somewhat, if not completely delusional. Even when people tell me that the films I make, or the things I write aren’t good enough, I have to tell myself “keep trying Toni… Not everyone is going to understand your style of genital humor.”

    But if I were in any other profession, say a surgeon, and hospitals kept rejecting me – I would probably stop. I would never be like, “they just don’t get my type of surgery.”

    If I were a lawyer and lost every case, chances are I would quit, rather then yell at the judge, “my law is post-modern, avant-garde, reductionist… and you have no taste because you’re provincial philistine!

    The other day I went for a walk, got pretty stoned, and thought to myself “wow, I am the hardest working unsuccessful person I know.” It would be one thing if I didn’t work that hard, then I would have an excuse. I could be like, “well Toni, you never really tried.” But I really try!! Then I started to think that I must just not be that amazing at anything, and my current life is the consequence of my being un-amazing. Then I got soooo hungry. But then, I got a new video idea!

    I think we all have to deal with disappointment and rejection – whether in love, work, school, or public approval. Yet even though we are a social species, we also can’t allow other’s to define our sense of self. In matters of the heart, we often take breakups so personally. “Oh dear, that person doesn’t love me, therefor I can’t love myself.” Well, maybe you were an asshole every so often and could have done more to clean up your dirty dishes. But you can learn from your mistakes and still think you are worthy of love. Rejection, although damaging for the ego, is also an opportunity to grow, improve, and better define what it is you actually want.

    So in these dark political times where the face of Donald Trump causes my mouth to water at the precipice of constant retching, and my vagina to dry up, ready to turn itself inside out – there is something positive I can learn from him. I can channel his unrelenting pride. And you can too, the next time an entire world thinks you’re a piece of shit.

    Looks like I need a dose of Trump-Esteem!!!

    March 30, 2017 • Current Events, emotions, Musings, Political Banter • Views: 434

  • No Words

    I have no real words to express… from losing Bernie… blatant political corruption… racism… sexism… rape culture…

    So these are my feelings expressed through personalized emojis

    toni-window-scared

    toni-hair-over-face

    toni-drinking-wine

    toni-dead-at-window

    toni-tears-full

    toni-screaming

    toni-laying-on-floor

    toni-hand-over-face-sad

    November 9, 2016 • Current Events, Political Banter • Views: 1207

  • How About We Stop Trying to Empower Women?

    Women in the Western World no longer face the same blatant discrimination of the past – we can vote, have custody of our children, and participate in the work force by being cogs in the wheel of capitalism slaving away endlessly in a soulless pursuit of wealth just like the boys! But of course that doesn’t mean sexism is behind us. The world is just as rapey as it ever – which is why I created the new “Pussy Protector” that works like a rat-trap and will tear off the hand of any presidential candidate who tries to grab yours. I’m selling them on Ebay.

    The current battle against misogyny in the Western world is a more nuanced, psychological one. A lot of progress has been made in the past 100 years, yet the lingering mental conditioning that women are inferior still remains. Empowerment has become a big theme in modern western feminism, and many think that is the solution we’ve been looking for to address the gender hierarchy. We have to empower women. Women need to be sexually empowered. Woman would be so much better if they just empowered themselves.

    But is the pursuit of POWER really what we should be encouraging?

    Power is a corrupting force. People in power are by FAR the most shady, greedy, selfish, destructive, murderous, and thoughtless people on planet earth. Power doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Power is in direct relation to what you have over others. You never have power WITH other people. That sentence doesn’t even make sense. My autocorrect hated it. You have power OVER others.

    Check it:

    Simple Definition of power
    : the ability or right to control people or things

    : political control of a country or area

    : a person or organization that has a lot of control and influence over other people or organizations

    Full Definition of power
    1
a (1) : ability to act or produce an effect (2) : ability to get extra-base hits (3) : capacity for being acted upon or undergoing an effect
b : legal or official authority, capacity, or right

    2
a : possession of control, authority, or influence over others
b : one having such power; specifically : a sovereign state
c : a controlling group : establishment —often used in the phrase the powers that be
d archaic : a force of armed men
e chiefly dialect : a large number or quantity

    3
a : physical might
b : mental or moral efficacy
c : political control or influence

    I don’t know if we want to be “empowering” women as much as we want to “disempower” everyone! Having power over others is too much for the human psyche to handle.

    I want to believe that if women had more power then we would handle it differently, but that implies women are somehow more morally high-minded then men. If we look at women that have rose through the ranks of power, Margaret Thatcher, Hillary Clinton, Angela Merkel, Dilma Rousseff… it’s not like any of them have been flawless saints. They played the game of politics and power, and compromised just like men do. There are women CEO’s for General Motors, Hewlette Packard, IBM, and I don’t see these giant corporations as righteous. These companies aren’t helping to save us from the transhumanist, apocalyptic, World War 3, nightmare that lies ahead of us.

    There are “good” women leaders, and there are “good” men leaders, but ANYONE who get’s into positions of power can be seduced into making decisions that prioritize their power over what’s best for humanity. A selfless person in power is about as easy to find as the G-spot when you’re drunk and stoned.

    When I think about the messaging I want to internalize and teach my daughter, I’m not convinced I want it to be predicated on power. I want women to be tough, feel comfortable in their own skin, and question the status quo that shapes us as people. I want to teach my daughter to be insightful, strong-willed, compassionate, thoughtful, inquisitive, empathetic, tell funny dick/vagina jokes (equal opportunity genital humor) – but most importantly I want her to be philosophical. I don’t think humanity needs more people striving for power, but more people approaching life philosophically.

    This is not a new concept; the great philosopher Socrates was assassinated by his community because he encouraged children to question authority and think for themselves. It was his belief that the ONLY people fit to be kings (he was kind of sexist in that way) were philosophers. They were the sole humans who could handle the job because they were the only ones NOT seeking power. Yet of course the tragic irony is philosophers don’t want to be kings because they understand the moral vulnerability of that position.

    I think we should be teaching our daughters and sons to seek a philosophical understanding of themselves and the world rather than suggesting a vague quest towards empowerment. Think about it. Philosophers are not slaves to materialism. They aren’t out shopping for plastic bullshit that will later be dumped in the ocean to choke an octopus. Philosophers aren’t starting wars or enacting genocide. Can you imagine a philosopher in charge of nuclear weapons? That button would never get pushed because they would spend the rest of their life with their finger hovering, pontificating endlessly about the consequences of their actions. Philosophically minded people are not violent or reckless because they are too busy peacefully staring at their belly buttons pondering the meaning of it all.
    I don’t want to be sexually “empowered” because my sex isn’t a weapon I want to lord over, or control some one with. If I am sexually attracted to someone all that means is that I’m waving my DNA flag, and he is waving his, and we happen to have enough variety where we won’t create a deformed spider-child with 7 legs. Sexual attraction has to do with biology, and I shouldn’t be told to feel powerful because someone has a different double helix than me. If I’m attracted to a dude, I want him to know, because that’s the whole point right? And if I’m not attracted to a guy, I don’t want him to be attracted to me, because that feels manipulative.

    When we equate sex with empowerment it suggests that sex is a part of power. I don’t want to feel like sex has anything to do with power. I want to be sexually free. I want to be sexually explorative to make my own decisions. I want to be sexually liberated and begin relationships with the man knowing blowjobs are a great gift I bestow upon him exclusively for birthdays and anniversaries. But I don’t need to feel powerful because I am sexy, or have sex.

    I’ve always thought sex was about genuine desire and mutual lust. But maybe I have been wrong about this?? I guess if I’d been thinking about fucking my way to the top, I wouldn’t still be at the bottom of this mountain kicking rocks. Shit you guys, did I not capitalize enough on my youth? Was it a mistake to only sleep with people I actually liked? Did I waste my 20’s fucking DJ’s, skaters, and club kids? No wonder why I’m not a millionaire – but I at least I can scratch a record and do a kick flip. I didn’t learn about power through my sexual exploits but I did learn I probably shouldn’t fuck dudes who expect me to do more than 2 positions or care about their orgasms after I’m done.

    Power dynamics exist within sexual relationships because there are power imbalances of who likes who more. But aren’t we all searching for that one relationship where power doesn’t exist? Where you love each other equally. Isn’t equality what we are seeking in every aspect of humanity? Racial, gender, and economic equality!? Fuck power… we want an even playing field!

    Power struggles are all part of the patriarchy no matter who is struggling for power. Women don’t need to be encouraged to fall into the same trappings that culture has put before us for thousands of years. Let’s abandon this way of thinking where power is what we seek and instead focus on what women are inherently talented at; building community, developing intimacy, prioritizing connection, and using methods of communication over force. I want our (potential) woman president not to solve problems with the same solution of war and violence, but instead by talking off Putin’s ear until he just gives the fuck up. Then this tension with Russian can end just like every argument between a man and woman… with the guy saying, “you’re right, I’m wrong, I’m sorry.”

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    October 20, 2016 • Current Events, Musings, Political Banter, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 791

  • What The Left Wing Needs and The Solution To the World’s Problems

    Like most of you, I watched the debates with an expression akin to what I would look like if a snake crawled out of my asshole, and then licked me on the nose – horrified, but also intrigued. In both cases the main question is, “how did you get here?”

    Sometimes I wonder if Trump is just a brilliant performance artist using this platform of presidency as his canvas for expression. Maybe he’s being mentored by Marina Abramovik to reveal the truth of our country through his despicable behavior and bigotry? Doesn’t it seem more reasonable that he’s the physical manifestation of an interactive live art installation intended to pull back the veil of American imperialism than him being an actual candidate?!

    Where are all the left wing political assassins?? How come assassins are always right wing? Every public figure that has been murdered by some gunman is always a progressive trying to fight against injustice. Abe Lincoln, JFK, RFK, Martin Luther King, John Lennon, Indira Gandhi, Mahatma Gandhi, Malcolm X… the list goes on. Where are the crazy lefties that go around executing people, and why isn’t Trump first on their list? I am not saying I want him dead, but no one has even tried to shoot him in the leg? If that isn’t proof enough that every left wing assassination is a government conspiracy conducted by the New World Order lizard elite then I don’t know what is!

    Trump isn’t the real problem because ultimately he’s just a figurehead. The real issue is that millions of people support him, and they aren’t’ going away no matter who’s elected. This country is beyond divided. It’s fragmented. The corruption of the justice system is an obvious symptom of our collective disease. Police getting away with murder, and rapists getting away with rape is an everyday occurrence. Everything is boiling to the surface and no one can find a lid to stop it.

    The world is fucked, everybody knows it, and nobody knows what to do. The environment is going to serious shit, there are endless wars destroying humanity and the planet, corporations rule politics, and we are facing potential extinction. The reason why we don’t know what to do is because we are all so isolated in our tiny boxes, staring at our tiny boxes with screens – separated from each other and nature and thinking connection is best achieved through “likes.”

    If I “like” enough articles about global warming and Syrian refuges will it all go away??????

    Humans are by nature followers, and we need a leader. I know you don’t think you’re a follower, but you are. That doesn’t mean you aren’t lovely, but 99.9999999% of us would rather be told what to do then figure it out on your own. But if you are on the outside of the political fence looking in, we don’t have a leader – so we sit around finger-blasting ourselves and our phones, waiting for the diarrhea to hit the windmill.

    That was one of the problems with Occupy Wall Street – it was a leaderless movement. I get the philosophy behind it. I respect the impact that it made. A lot was born from that initiative. But in order for people to really make change in their every day lives, they crave someone giving them specific direction.

    Bernie Sanders was the most powerful potential leader for progressive left wing in my lifetime. There was a moment when his light was so bright, and millions of psychologically and politically disenfranchised people wanted him to lead us out of the darkness. We were begging for someone who shared our vision of the world to be our take over. Please Bernie… be my dad, tell me how to take down corporate America, and then hold me.

    But Bernie couldn’t survive within the current political landscape. It’s too corrupt. I’m not saying that because I’m sexist and hate Hillary, but because the status quo is compromised and anyone who can rise to the upper ranks of power is also –including Obama.

    We want politics to be our parents because figuring out how to self-organize is too daunting. There are too many people, and we didn’t evolve to live in such big groups. We are overwhelmed with population, infrastructure, and corporate monopolies. Revolution takes sacrifice, but we aren’t willing to actually fight for a cause because the present paradigm isn’t that bad. Forget the fact that we may not have a future… right now is okay because “Stranger Things” is an amazing show and I just watched the entire first season!

    A vote for Hillary isn’t just a vote against Trump, it’s a vote for the establishment that already exists. Bernie Sanders is urgently supporting the democratic party’s nomination and doesn’t feel like now is the time for 3rd party protests, but when is that time? The first vote I ever cast was for the 3rd party, and everyone blamed us for the rise of the Bush era.

    People who want more than two choices are thought of as irrational and naïve. There is NEVER going to be an election where it is safe to pursue that goal. But a democracy isn’t just a two party system, and there are many countries that successfully prove that.

    The right at least has the Tea Party for their extremists, but the left doesn’t have the New Age party that only speaks in sacred geometry and whispers in fractals. Maybe the kind of politics that I want to see in the world can’t exist within this current framework, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t need leaders outside the scaffolding to shake shit up. The Black Lives Matter movement is proof enough that so many of us are CRAVING a movement to ignite change. We need to take these social movements to the next level and use this momentum to force the hand of those that are destroying the planet with their greed and corruption.

    If you think about our access to connection, we have more opportunity now than ever before for mass protesting. I feel like we need to enter into an era of love induced social terrorism against the corporate elite. We need to spread our message like a venereal disease across all social medial platforms. The 1% does not own the world, and we need to take it back from them.

    We need someone to tell us, “hey, nobody pay back their student loans until we have more reasonable college tuition and a better support system for our youth so they don’t enter the work force with $200,000 in debt.” Or “No African American person should pay taxes until the prison industrial complex has been completely reformed and the police state addressed.” Or no one pay their medical bills until we’ve had a true overhaul of our health system so people aren’t dying because of insurance complications.

    If EVERYONE participated in these kinds of economic protests you bet your sweet ass we would get shit done!!! We just need someone to lead and organize us… and not get shot by the lizard elite! So maybe this leader has to either be able to regenerate, have many clones, or be like the Dali Llama and if one get’s killed another is born.

    So who ever is trying to lead these kinds of initiatives we have to vehemently support and defend! If you know people that are on this level… LET US ALL KNOW so we can get organized.

    October 1, 2016 • Current Events, Education, Environmental Impact, Political Banter • Views: 878

  • Bitches and Beauty

    Recently Alicia Keys went to the VMA’s without any make up on. My reaction to this was as complex as – “that’s cool.” I posted an article on my FB wall and kept living my life. Yet now the “news” is talking about her “bare faced” look spurring a revolution! Ummm… really? A REVOLUTION?? Does that mean that I am now considered a guerilla warrior because I am too lazy to put on fucking foundation?

    I’m not wearing make up in the above picture, but does that make me brave??! UMMM not really because have you seen my abs?? I think it’s depressing that the world is shitting golden eggs because a painfully pretty woman dared get her picture taken looking painfully pretty without lipstick. SHOCKING!!!

    Pop News” is asking me if I will I join her #nomakeup movement. MOVEMENT?? It’s seriously such big deal that a chick goes outside without mascara that we are actually comparing it to a social movement?! Sure Keys is a celebrity and thus judged for her looks, but the way the media is reacting, you’d think that she was as bold as to tattoo “Politics Can Eat My Pussy” across her forehead.

    At this very moment I am sitting at my computer wearing tie-dyed “Hammer” pants… much like Joey Buttafuoco circa 1992. I haven’t washed my hair in a week, and when I did, I used body soap because why bother with a variety of substances that make bubbles? I have never in my life received the compliment “you smell amazing,” and I’m pretty sure the dirt under my fingernails has it’s own eco system.

    I could put a lot more effort into this package… Bitches are supposed to be beautiful, and when we are not, we are expected to feel bad about ourselves. Oh no, my skin isn’t as smooth as a baby’s scrotum, and I haven’t scorched my cootch with a blowtorch to remove all unwanted hair follicles. DO YOU STILL LIKE ME? Have you seen my abs??!

    Beauty, sex, and physical appeal are all part of the trademark of femininity. It is a constant conversation in society… more than Syria, Yemen, the Federal Reserve, and the ruling lizard Elite. The only thing we talk about more than women’s being beautiful are women NOT being beautiful. How dare you be unfuckable you whore!

    The problem with “beauty standards” is the consequential brand recognition of what is considered attractive. You see something enough times and it becomes engrained in your psyche. See this?? This is what you should buy into!! If you go to a grocery store to get detergent, most people will buy “Tide” because they’ve seen it before. It’s familiar, so it must be good right? Who cares that it’s a bottle of toxic chemicals? Same thing goes with beauty. These photo-shopped, over made up images are slammed down our gullets, and we deep throat that message without even gagging… unless you are retching to puke up dinner to be skinny enough by tomorrow. PS don’t forget to shoot some Botox into your lips and ass because those are the only parts of you allowed to be fat.

    Even industries that claim to be about acceptance and soul seeking are just as superficial. If I see one more skinny white chick in a yoga video wearing her underwear while doing a split – I will literally turn my labia inside out, use it as a cape, and fly to another planet like a goddamn super hero. Hey Yogis… you could be doing a lot better with your “being the change you want to see in the world.”

    I am so bored of this being such a huge issue in the collective consciousness of the female identity, yet at the same time, I WANT TO BE BEAUTIFUL SO YOU WILL CARE ABOUT ME!

    Sometimes I try. I slap some make up on my face and run my fingers through my tangled mane, but then give up because I am pulling my hair. It’s too knotty! I will throw on a sexy outfit, stick my tits out, and strut around like a peacock with a feather up its ass. I am not saying it doesn’t feel good when people look at me like I am hot… yet at the same time, what the fuck? Why do I care?

    I care because I am conditioned to care. I care because it does matter what I look like, even though it doesn’t, because actually it does. For thousands of years, beauty has been part of female survival, and in many ways we are still making it so.

    For most of recorded history, women were commodities and property. In that paradigm, attractiveness added to the value of what we could be purchased for. Being beautiful was a strategy of success. There was hardly any chance for us to have power beyond what our husbands could provide. So in order for a woman to have any influence, she had to be part of the right family – all Game of Thrones style.

    There then comes this massive social shift where women start earning value with their minds. We start to intellectually compare with men, so now their competition for achievement has doubled. Smart women eat into the economic and political pool that was once dominated by men, and that is a threat to their livelihood within a capitalist model.

    But… if we make women use their psychic energy worrying about what they look like, and feeling insecure about their thigh canyons – that will chip into their life force… therefor making them distracted! I am pretty sure Stephen Hawking wasn’t freaking out about which wheelchair made him look chubby. Obsessing about beauty has become a prison of our own making.

    All humans are at their core artists. Everyone has creative energy – it just varies on how we choose to express it. Yet women are encouraged to put a vast majority of their creativity into their looks. This isn’t to say that sexy chicks aren’t bringing positivity into the world. It is nice to look at beautiful women. But at the same time, there are a variety of other outlets for you to pour that exertion into – like say, baking cookies.

    When I was a kid my mom told me I was beautiful every day of my life. You’d think that would make me vain, but it had the opposite effect. If made me feel like that was a meaningless statement. It made me stop caring. Yeah yeah yeah mom, sure I’m beautiful but did you know I could do a back flip? Could we talk about that shit?

    Because I have a daughter, I am extra concerned with her future relationship to beauty. I don’t want her to be defined by it, afraid of it, or confined by it. She is a pretty girl and there is no reason to pretend otherwise, but that doesn’t mean she needs to over think it’s meaning. The Munch should honor her natural beauty and see it as a gift, but it’s not more precious then her winning personality and genius mind… a brain that makes up songs like “a penis is an instrument that nobody wants to play.” WHICH IS A REAL GODDAMN SONG SHE WROTE!!!!

    This chick don’t give any fucks

    munch goggles bike

    August 31, 2016 • Current Events, Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 5637