Author Archives: Miss Kitten

Go Fuck Yourself Weekly: Mike Huckabee is out of his goddamned mind.

The previous week in American politics has seen one of the winningest winning streaks in recent history. In the wake of the overwhelmingly tragic shootings at the EMA Church in Charleston, SC, public officials all over the South finally came to their senses and took down the Confederate Flag from government buildings. Then shortly after declaring that the Affordable Care Act is, in fact, constitutional (again), the Supreme Court of the United States gave one big judiciary middle finger to homophobia when they ruled that all Americans, regardless of sexual orientation, are entitled to equal treatment under the law, and therefore it is unconstitutional to deny them marriage licences. Same sex marriage became legal in all 50 states with one resounding pound of the gavel. Justice Kennedy’s final ruling on the case reads like poetry. He totally kills it.

Myself and my like-minded friends and family members rejoiced when the news broke out on Friday, undoubtedly just as fervently as the right-wing hate machine at Fox News and the conservative blogosphere reacted equally and oppositely with outrage. They declared that the SCOTUS was overstepping its bounds, that the ruling is unconstitutional, totally misapprehending that the primary function of the SCOTUS is to interpret the constitution. Therefore, if they say something is constitutional, then it’s good and damn well constitutional. End of discussion.

One of the most insane voices in protest over the ruling is former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee, who told Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly that he wouldn’t acquiesce to a “imperial” court anymore than the Founding Fathers would do so to a tyrannical British monarch. “We must resist and reject judicial tyranny, not retreat.” Yes, he’s actually comparing the SCOTUS ruling on equal marriage rights to the Revolutionary War. How typically Tea Partian. To her credit, however, Megyn Kelly’s not buying a word of it. “What does that mean,” is her response to his ravings about the “tyrannical” Supreme Court. And when he tries to tell her that the SCOTUS ruling was unconstitutional, she reminds him that the SCOTUS has the final say and that he has to accept it, “How do you not accept it,” she asks.

He then goes on to compare the ruling on same sex marriage to the Dred Scott Decision of 1857, in which free African Americans were found not to be citizens in a 7-2 ruling by the SCOTUS. They therefore had no rights whatsoever, and President Lincoln, acknowledging the unfairness and general awfulness of the ruling, decided to consider them citizens anyway. Yes, Huckabee actually invoked a SCOTUS ruling denying people rights as an example of why we don’t need to accept one granting people equal rights.

But then how could one expect anything less from a man who, earlier this year, declared that he would “call fire from Heaven” in an effort to root out the “false prophets” and make American citizens come to their collective senses regarding traditional marriage and family values. According to Huckabee, same sex marriage is the single worst atrocity that has ever been committed by man, worse than enslaving an entire race of people, bombing entire cities into oblivion, or committing genocide in the name of religion. No. Gay marriage is what’s really going to provoke the wrath of God, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to stand by and and just watch it happen.

Or perhaps, he and the rest of the right-wing, homophobic, bible thumpers currently foaming at the mouth over the ruling, could just calm the fuck down and accept it, since gay couples being allowed to get married doesn’t affect them in the slightest possible way. Or they could always move to Canada, as many have threatened to do over the ruling, just like they did over Obamacare, not realizing that, along with National Health care, same-sex marriage has been universally legal in Canada for almost a decade.

Well, gosh darn. Is there nowhere that an insufferable, intolerant, and insane idiot can find refuge these days? I hear Saudia Arabia is very nice this time of year.

Problem Areas

It’s summertime, ladies.
When the living is uneasy,
For those of us with,
Problem Areas.
Those imperfect parts of us,
Endlessly discussed,
How they offend and they disgust,
And should be always hidden.
Away from view, forbidden.
Cover up your Problem Areas,
For they only want to see,
Bodies flawless and magnificent,
Smoothly plastic, prepubescent.
Wear a minimizer, for the girls.
(That’s a bra that shrinks your assets)
For nobody wants to see them,
Particularly, the men.
Who, as we know, cannot stand,
To look at women’s breasts.
So before someone arrests you,
Cover up those Problem Areas.
Contain yourself in lots of shape wear.
Suck everything in everywhere.
And never ever remind anyone,
That you’re an actual woman.

A Poet’s Heart – In Honor of World Poetry Day

So, you want to write poetry,
But where do you start?
Well, it helps if you have,
A poet’s cracked heart.
A heart that is damaged,
A heart with a hole.
(Not a literal one, mind,
Just metaphorical)
For in that dark hole,
The poetry resides.
And it eats up the pain,
That you try hard to hide.
And when it’s filled up,
With your pain and your doubt,
Then that’s when it’s time,
For the poetry to come out!

Go Fuck Yourself Weekly: Tampons and other non-essential, luxury items.

Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. For realz. Did you know that we pay extra for shit? Such as getting our hair done, and clothing, and hygiene products in pink packaging with the words, “For Women” written on them. Why do clothing companies, hair stylists, and manufacturers of bullshit “For Women” products charge women more? Well, because they can. So they do. They know that we will pay more money for a woman’s product even though it’s the same exact thing as the men’s formula, just with a “feminine” scent added to it. What can I say? We’re idiots. We totally buy into the gendered marketing phenomenon because, ooh…this deodorant is strong enough for a man, but made for a woman. I feel so special.

I would characterize cucumber-avocado shower gel as a somewhat luxurious, non-essential item. After all, you could always use regular soap and save money. However, there are some products that women definitely need in a very essential, and very non-luxurious kind of way. I’m of course referring to menstruation peripherals (thanks, Russ), otherwise known as feminine hygiene products. These are some of the most essential products required by anyone with a functioning uterus. Getting one’s period is not a unique, nor a luxurious experience. Therefore, why on earth are tampons and similar products classified as “non-essential, luxury items” by HM Revenue and Customs in the UK? This classification means they are subject to VAT, a luxury tax that’s not added to completely non-luxurious, and absolutely essential items like edible sugar flowers. After all, everyone buys edible sugar flowers every time they go grocery shopping, right? They are as essential as crocodile meat and alcoholic jellies (I mean…Jello Shots! Hello!!), both of which are also not subject to VAT.

But for some reason, tampons are. Granted, it’s a reduced VAT. It used to be 17.5% but it was dropped to 5% in 2000. I just don’t understand the reasoning behind the idea that tampons are luxurious and non-essential. They are required by every single female with a functioning reproductive system. Once again, we’re being charged extra just because we’re women.

By the way, you know what else is subject to the 5% VAT? Children’s car seats. Apparently the HMRC also considers these to be non-essential and luxurious. I thought parents were required by law to use them, but what do I know?

How to Buy Cheap Wine in Sweden: Go to Germany

One of the things about living in Europe is that due to the small size of some of the countries, it’s possible to leave one country, drive all the way through another, and then into a third country all in one day. That’s what we did on Saturday.

We wanted to get as early a start as possible, so Daniel and I got up at 4:45am. Hans wanted to hit the road at 5:30, although we ended up leaving closer to six. He drove the three of us through the pitch black of the early Autumn morning to the Scandlines ferry terminal in Helsingborg. It took about two hours to get there, and the sun was just rising as we arrived at about eight. Daniel paid for our return ticket to Puttgarden, Germany, and we drove our rented pickup truck onto the ferry. This was a very short crossing, only about 15 minutes, barely enough time to use the bathroom and browse the tax free shops. I only had time to purchase two bags of Halloween candy.

We got back in the truck, drove into Helsingor, Denmark, and continued on our way. Daniel took the wheel for this leg of the journey, where we passed through very flat but beautiful Danish countryside, with its endless fields of yellow rapeseed blossoms destined to be made into cooking oil. In another two hours we arrived at a second ferry terminal. Once again we drove onto the ferry, but since this was a longer crossing we had the time to do a little duty free shopping. Hans bought some red wine, which seemed rather foolish because after 45 minutes, we arrived at Puttgarden and the enormous border shop contained in a barge floating in the harbor.

It was about the size of an Ikea, four stories high, with a different type of alcoholic beverage on each floor. We started with the wine floor and began filling up our three shopping carts. Daniel and I bought forty boxes of wine equivalent to 125 bottles. Each box was at least a third, and in some cases a quarter, of what we would have paid for similar wine in Sweden. This is how you recoup the cost of the trip itself.

After we paid for our wine, we pushed our carts out to the truck and loaded it up with our combined eighty boxes. Then we headed back into the shop to fill up on beer and liquor. Everything was half the price you would pay at Sweden’s alcohol monopoly, so we stocked up on bottles for the pub in our house (the only “real” pub in Alvesta) and for Christmas and New Years. The boys are experienced border shoppers; we packed all the bottles in boxes we found in the shop, and cushioned them with pieces of cardboard for the drive home.

At this point it was about three in the afternoon, and it was time to head home. We drove our booze-laden truck onto the ferry and then, at last, we were able to relax and eat some lunch. Five hours later we arrived back in Alvesta, unloaded all our boxes and crates and bottles, and stashed them temporarily in the garage.

So now I can say I’ve been to Germany. Well, at least to a very small part of it.

Sweet Little One

I try not to think,
About her much.
How her fur was soft,
And warm to touch.
How she she slept,
Beside me in my bed,
And rubbed me,
With her little head.
I try not think,
Of my little one,
It hurts my heart.
Tears always come.
My darling cat,
No longer mine.
Sweet little one,
I left behind.
Have I vanished
From your memory?
Or do you try,
Not to think of me?

Natural End

Little ducklings swim behind,
In a single file line,
Little mother mallard duck,
But they’re running out of luck.
There were six and then just five.
Must be hard to stay alive.
For with every passing day,
One more duckling goes away.
There were five and then just four.
The other ones are seen no more.
So then in a shorter line,
Swim the ducklings from behind.
There were four and then just three.
But no trace that one could see.
Not a whisper of their song.
They’ve just vanished, simply gone.
There were three and then just two.
What’s a mother duck to do?
Mother Nature is so cruel,
Knows no right, nor wrong, nor rule.
There were two and then just one.
But they never can outrun,
Mother Nature, who’s so kind,
She left one duckling behind.