Fearless Girl…

…and the fearful male.

An instigator decided he didn’t like Fearless Girl disrupting the integrity of Charging Bull. In response, he slapped together an intentionally poorly designed dog to urinate on her leg, installing her last night.

Alex Gardega insists he’s a feminist. He says he’s simply incensed by the marketing ploy by State Street and feels Fearless Girl doesn’t belong. Ergo, he’s protesting. Protesting by having a dog urinate on a child’s leg. A female child, at that.

Let’s say Gardega is genuinely enraged by the disruption of Charging Bull. Is it remotely appropriate to have a dog urinate on the leg of a child, even in statue form?

Additionally, even if Gardega is a “feminist” (which I doubt) how is it not blisteringly obvious that misogyny isn’t alive and well in 2017? That someone would think it’s wholly appropriate to urinate on a woman, without consent. To shame a woman in public. To degrade a woman “in the name of art.” We are not your tools, men.

On Twitter, someone suggested placing Fearless Girl elsewhere. And, you know what? I agree. She needs to be moved. She needs to face the White House until our society recognizes and accepts that a woman can effectively govern this country.

Lastly, sponsored/commissioned art has been going on for centuries. Stop making State Street the problem in this scenario. The statue is brilliant. It stands on its own and conveys a message. Making it about its sponsor dilutes the message. That said, I’m thinking a dilution of the message might be the intended consequence given how intimidated many are by women in positions of power, especially women of color.

The more vehement the protest about Fearless Girl, the more obvious one’s feeling threatened becomes. It says everything about the protester and our society, in general. We live in an age when a bronze female form is a threat. Think about that.

But it’s alright, ’cause it’s all white…

…or is it?

Another day, another explosion, another Muslim to blame. Expedient and convenient. In rapid fashion The Deplorables emerge from their basket, full of rage and bare chested, arteries close to exploding as the Do-Gooder-Patriot thumps his chest in outrage. The call to eject citizens or aliens, legal or non, grow louder and louder as crumpled cans of Budweiser hit the floor and Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless The U.S.A” bleats in the background along with Fox Noise, Alex Jones or whatever nonsensical voice from the Alt-Reich will serve as the clarion call to the patriots. Pick up the guns, bruh. We gots ourselves some work to do.

Let’s say The Deplorables get their way: Der Trumpenführer und Col Wilhem Klink Pence are elected in November. The mass deportations begin. Muslims *poof* gone! Mexicans (And let’s be blunt about the definition of Mexican, shall we. We all know the word “Mexican” encompasses anyone from Central and South America in this instance.) *el presto* dunzo! African Americans who refuse to heel to the esteemed white man and accept institutionalized racism *boom* outta here. Jews, sorry my fellow brothers and sisters, we’re off to live on disputed soil in a desert because Secretary of White Washing, David Duke, thinks were shifty, at best. I’d cite more but, admittedly, I’m bored. Also, why bother?

So, now that the Great Again United States of America is as white as a mountain of blow, all is good, right? There are no longer any explosions (abortion is outlawed so no need to fret about that). Crime no longer exists because white people don’t do that stuff. Right? Right? Wait…I’m…wrong?

After all that expended energy – the culling of the herd, the elimination of the undesirables, there is still crime? There are still people who are (scratches chin) bad? But, how could this be? It’s a white, christian utopia full of hard working, non-welfare taking, non-idle people who spend their non-work time at church or building homes for Habitat for Humanity (although why HH exists when everyone has a job and can afford a home escapes me entirely). When do the adults find time to commit crime? When do the studious angels find the time between school, volunteerism and extra-curricular activities?

The fact of the matter is, Dear Deplorables, you can eliminate as many brown, yellow, black, olive, purple, polka-dotted, twenty-armed, two-headed, nine-footed humans from your country as you wish. You will never eliminate bad behavior. It could be debated that the Deplorable is the embodiment of bad behavior but that’s tangential and not relevant to the discussion. The bad behavior remains. What will the basket dwellers do then? Do they systematically jail their brothers, sisters and cousins or do they bounce them out of the country, too? Back to Europe, for you guys! You are so fucking horrible, you white criminals, we’re going to make sure you have to endure the hell that is democratic socialism with its stupid healthcare, its 36-hour work week and guaranteed four weeks of paid holiday a year. That’ll show ’em!

Deplorables, you will never have a society free from crime, free from vice and free from bad behavior. Certainly not when you’re a part of it. But, regardless, the bad behavior will always be here. Even if your nation becomes a sea of white faces as you so desire. Your solution of toting guns and eliminating those who look and think differently than you is about as rational as a two year-old’s fallback of a temper tantrum for not getting a second cookie or a sixteen year-old’s screaming “YOU ARE RUINING MY ENTIRE LIFE” because she can’t have the keys to the family truckster.

Throw out everyone. Make every minority leave. Oust everyone who has a dissenting opinion. I guarantee you there will still be things blowing up, people walking around crowded places with guns and knives, women still being raped and children still being abused. I guarantee you will still be in physical danger to a degree. Otherwise, in your white utopia that you have achieved, you wouldn’t have any need for that gun you’re clinging to, right?

Oh, Florida…

…where killing a black man is just fine but fucking on the beach – not so much.

Last July, Jose Caballero and Elissa Alvarez were arrested on Bradenton Beach for having the sinful sex on the sand. They, being Floridians, presumably, were genetically predisposed to approach this from a very unintelligent and inelegant fashion. They took that delightful, little diddy, “Afternoon Delight” a little too seriously and knocked da boots on the beach in the middle of the afternoon, in front of other people. Urgh. Classy.

Doubly unfortunate for the frolicking duo, a four-year old child was present. Also present, someone with a camera. When the mom of the four-year old asked Caballero to stop, Caballero wasn’t very receptive to the request. He was confrontational. Who knows? Maybe he was super-dee-dooper close to the best beach sex climax of his life? I dunno. I have never partaken of the old beach sex. It strikes me as particularly uncomfortable and itchy. Sex in an old coal furnace, on the other hand…never mind…

Caballero has priors; among those, cocaine trafficking. So, you know this isn’t going to end well for him. He’s not getting off (not on the beach and not in court) with a slap on the wrist. He ended up with a jail sentence of 2.5 years. A bit draconian, if you ask me.

His partner in crime, Elissa Alvarez, was also found guilty of lewd and lascivious (one of my favorite words) exhibition in front of a child. Not in front of a child! For fuck’s sake, think of the children! The children who, likely, have no fucking idea what they’re witnessing until their parents freak the fuck out and make a giant scene that will remain permanently etched in their memories. “Hey mommy! Remember that time we were at Bradenton Beach when I was four and we saw those two people fucking in the sand? I do! Thanks to you and your histrionic reaction.”

This particular charge is a second degree felony and as such, both parties must register as sex offenders. For fucking on the beach. Something that how many people have done at some point in their lives? Man, you know the bar is low when you’re popped and nailed with a felony for a cliché.

Here’s the really sad thing – Elissa Alvarez is all of 21 years old. She was sentenced for time served and is now out of custody. She is not, however, out of the woods. She is a registered sex offender and, as such, has a life of no career to look forward to. Think of all the stupid, youthful indiscretions we engaged in around that age. As I alluded to earlier, I got busy in an abandoned coal furnace at the tender age of 20 with a belly full of beer. Thank fuck there were no such things as cellphones with cameras or the internet. Or kids around. I could have been Elissa Alvarez, easily. Sex in public places is a rite of passage. Don’t look at me and act horrified. Y’all probably have done it once or twice, too.

The sex offender registry is important. We deserve to know when paedophiles are among us. That said, when you add people like this to the registry, people who diddle on the beach – how much service is that providing to the community? I don’t feel that this behavior is overtly dangerous. I don’t feel that two people are going to drop trou in Agrestic and get busy in the park. And, if they do, I think a simple “cut it the fuck out” would stop that shit in its tracks. Even if it didn’t, I wouldn’t want to destroy someone’s life over something as minor as this. It’s sex. It’s not rape. It’s not sex with a child. It’s consenting adults having sex. Even if the choice of geography isn’t the best option.

Should we fuck on buses, in shopping centers, public parks full of kids, playgrounds, etc…? No. There is a need for decorum. That’s why I have highly recommended abandoned coal furnaces and have long been a champion of them. Even if your clothes end up stained and mucky and your hair stinks after. But still, is any of this worth torpedoing the life of a 21-year-old woman?

No. No, it’s not.

Alas, this happened in Florida. Florida, the state where killing an unarmed black teen hungry for Skittles is perfectly acceptable but sex on the beach is an affront to mankind. Bugs Bunny had the right idea all along but we have known that since the 2000 election, haven’t we?

Oh for fuck’s sake…

…do grow up.

Nothing grabs my attention more than the moans and groans of “Mah Christmas was ruuuuuined forevaaaaaah!!!!”and “ZOMG! Scarred for life!” This is likely due to the fact that I have zero compassion for anyone or anything. Really. Years ago, my husband turned to me and said “I have finally figured it out. You’re basically the real-life version of Frank Pembleton from Homicide. No emotion or compassion what-so-ever.” Now, we all know he’s wrong. I do emote and feel the things. It’s just that I only feel the things that are important or relevant to my own interests (ok…that’s called sarcasm, kids. Narcissist, I am not).

Trying to get myself excited about working on bariatric analyses, I needed to surf the old internetz for inspiration (erm…riiiiiight) and I happened upon this bullshit on Gawker. Apparently, some parents had a very unmerry Christmas because Santa brought their precious snowflakes a Play-Doh kit with a penis. Working in healthcare for as many years as I have, I immediately assumed it was clinical and thought “Golly jeepers! Educational play, at last!” Nope. The kit in question is Play-Doh’s Sweet Shoppe Cake Mountain Playset (so girls can prepare themselves for the workforce, I suppose). Within this set is an icing extruder that happens to look phallic. Maybe. I mean, I’m pretty much the most frigid woman on the planet and I have neither seen nor touched a penis since I did my wifely duty of procreating five years ago (for the record, when I closed my eyes, I did not think of England) but after reading that it could, potentially, resemble a penis – I admit – I can see it. I can also see that it looks like a really bizarre syringe. We have tons of play syringes around the house for Milkface because he wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up (or maybe he wants to be a smack addict and lacks the temerity to fess up to that).

Christmas day comes ‘round and those blessed with the Make-Your-Own-Dry-Crumbly-Fondant-Nightmare-Cum-Poor-Excuse-For-A-Cake-Kit open their packages. Much to their parents’ chagrin, the penis comes tumbling out. Twitter goes bananas, as does every other form of social media. The verbal spanking of Play-Doh begins. The screams of “YOU RUINED MY CHRISTMAS!” echo throughout a good, Christian nation. Appointments will be made with qualified mental health professionals to deal with the impending PTSD. One family member will inevitably snatch up the icing extruder/penis and spirit it away to the bathroom to perform unspeakable acts which will be featured in DeadSpin’s “What Did We Get Stuck In Our Rectums Last Year” series. Trauma will be inflicted upon otherwise clueless children who see things for what they are because that is what egocentric children do. That is how the child brain works. It is what it fucking is to kids. You can hold up a pipe cleaner, tell them it’s a mind-reading device that detects fibs and they will believe it. And, once again, a grown-up who is supposed to be setting the example of appropriate behavior shows the child how to behave like a fuckstick.

Behold the circle of idiocy. Is it not a thing of beauty?

As Milky grows and his genius brain expands, I try to instigate some profound discussions with him in the hope that some of my wisdom and/or observations make an impact. One thing I often tell him is that while grown-ups are the voices of authority and are to be the voices of reason, grown-ups are flawed and far from perfect. Grown-ups make stupid mistakes from time to time. It’s imperative to not only observe the mistake (and it is exceptionally impolite to point it out) but observe the follow-through; how the grown-up remedies the mistake. There are times grown-ups won’t because they don’t understand they have done something incorrectly or, to be blunt, wrong. There are times grown-ups won’t because grown-ups can be prideful which is foolish. We don’t dance with fools. Time is precious and precious time is not invested in fools.

The mind I previously considered a curse because it never shuts off, never stops thinking and never stops formulating ideas has become an actual blessing in this regard. I’m able to quickly examine the situation, Milky’s behavior, my behavior and what the long term implications are going to be from my example. It’s why I would never scream “Christmas is ruined!” in front of my kid. If the phallic icing extruder came tumbling out of the box and landed in front of Milkface, I’d likely laugh and just carry on like it was nothing. But, if I was genuinely offended, I certainly wouldn’t carry on in front of him and potentially ruin his experience (tainting the toy and potentially making Christmas awkward).

These stories pop up in the news and result in two outcomes: a source for moral outrage for those who feel they are more righteous than others and a source for intellectual validation for those of us who feel we are smarter than others. And yes, I ate the bait and am giving it play by writing about it and looking down on the ridiculous idiots who let their entire Christmas be ruined by something that really wasn’t worth being upset over. So, shame on me. And, shame on me, again, for being higher and mightier for laughing at people for being so thin-skinned and tight-assed. Triple the shame for my judging their parenting. Although, in this instance, I really think my brilliant approach is better. If you don’t make a big deal out of something, your kid won’t either. If you leave things be, you don’t run the risk of ruining a pleasant experience for others. If you manage to keep your mouth shut, you may actually be giving the best gift of all: selflessness. You may also be teaching your children something, as well: use of histrionics does not result in a positive outcome.