My Dad: Probably Not a Serial Killer


I’ve become a big fan of IDTV, or The Murder Channel as I like to call it. Most of the time, I find the stories entertaining and even calming. But once in a while, something will trigger a real sense of shock and horror.

A couple of days ago, I watched the story of a serial killer, punctuated by interviews with his now adult daughter. In old photos, you can see the daughter as a toddler and the father as a big, good-looking all-American guy. The daughter describes him in those days as a charismatic family man.

But she recalls that all forms of horsing around with her dad ended up as uncomfortable power plays. Tickling became torture, as she begged her dad to stop. He would pin her arms down and keep on tickling.

Here I began to think, uh-oh.

My dad liked to be physical with me and my sister when we were kids. In one game, we would all get on his big bed and the object was to try to throw him off. Of course, this was impossible. I can’t remember if I enjoyed the struggle. I think I enjoyed this substitute for affection, since my parents divorced when I was three and I was a timid, neglected child.

Other games included trying to get his thumb loose from his fist. He was strong, a weightlifter and tennis player. We could never succeed and he enjoyed our committed struggles. He also enjoyed challenging us to perform some impossible task. When I was around eight, he bet that I couldn’t do 500 deep-knee-bends. Why would a father do this? Beats me, but I was determined to win. I somehow managed to rise to the challenge and I was in agony for days afterward. I remember my mom yelling at him about it.

When we were very young, my dad used to take us out on the freeway in his big Lincoln Continental and he would suddenly let go of the wheel at a high speed. He would turn to whichever of us was sitting next to him and say, “Take the wheel! Hurry up, you have to control the car!” Our terror was hilarious to him. Later, I would have recurring nightmares about a car I couldn’t control. I still can’t drive on freeways.

Back to the daughter of the serial killer, she recalls that her dad used to take her on a walk over a bridge. Halfway across, he would lift her up and pretend he was about to throw her over. She notes that she learned to run away before they got to the halfway mark.

My dad used to take us on a fishing boat that stayed out all day. I liked to fish. But I didn’t like it when he sneaked up behind me and suddenly lifted me off the ground, saying “I’m gonna throw you overboard!”

What fun he had!

The daughter in the story recounts her feelings of shame when her dad flirted with waitresses, crossing over the line of normal friendly banter.

Ditto, with my dad.

She was in high school when her dad was arrested for murder. He confessed to killing at least 8 women, but may have killed as many as 100. One was his fiance, who had rebelled against being dominated and had mysteriously disappeared. The daughter worries about having her father’s genes. She’s glad he didn’t kill her.

My dad died around 8 years ago, never having killed anyone as far as I know. But finding that his behavioral profile was so similar to the serial killer…that is upsetting. What the fuck was wrong with him and why didn’t anyone step in? How many fathers go around terrorizing their children in order to feel powerful? How many kids know that this isn’t normal?

Does this sound familiar to any of you??

As Father’s Day approaches, may my dad rest in peace, but may he stay good and dead.

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Madonna, Canceled

Today there’s an article in The New York Times called “Madonna at 60“.  I am pleased to report that I didn’t, and will not, read it. Madonna is canceled.

Madonna has already taken up too much of my time and emotional energy. I used to rant about her being a cultural scourge, a terrible role model responsible for every subsequent blonde sexpot who made a career out of hardly being able to sing. Plus Lady Gaga.

When I wrote gossip for a living, I found that on any given day, there was some Madonna news. Her family problems, her Instagram provocations, whatever. I was both fascinated and grossed out. I watched her face swell with fillers and took it personally. I flipped out when she appeared on awards shows wearing revealing outfits. I rejoiced when her legs got chunky.

Now I can stop. I don’t even need Chantix. I’m just going to take my business elsewhere. Hating Beyonce is a pretty good substitute, actually.

Who gives a shit about Madge at sixty? She’ll just insist that she’s still relevant and still sexy. Ew.

However! I have collected Madonna pictures to accompany my made-up stories and just for my own entertainment. Please enjoy or disenjoy them before I delete them. And if you’d like to give me an award for canceling her, I graciously accept.

Posted in Celebrities, irritants, Rants | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Jared Kushner: What a Fucking Cunt!™

Jared Kushner has been, until now,  a specter of robotic evil in our midst. We know his vacant, girlish face and stiff walk. We know he was born “Jerilyn” somewhere in a New Jersey laboratory. But now we can see him in action, thanks to Axios.

Watching him closely, you can see that he is able to raise one eyebrow! Added to his grimace, that’s two facial movements. More than a Ken doll but less than, say, Ivanka, who can smile, look smug, and laugh with all her teeth showing.

Have you noticed how smooth and glowing his skin in ? It’s almost shiny. Now we can see that it’s a thin coating of sperm, acquired from his father-in-law. I don’t know who applies it, but they do a great job. It probably has a high SPF factor to maintain the lily whiteness.

Is Jared really a “Jew”? I can’t believe that he shares my esteemed, ahem, lineage. Just like when the Son of Sam killer turned out to be Jewish, the tribe was relieved to discover he was adopted. Jared is no Jew, or if he is, he is traif.

Why is Jared in charge of so many critical missions as senior advisor to the President? Would you put him in charge of watering your lawn? Would you trust him near young children? Or puppies?

Asked if the Birther shit was racist, Jared insists that he wasn’t part of it.

Was the Holocaust racist? How about lynch mobs? Armenian Genocide?

How should Jared know, HE WASN’T PART OF IT, okay?

What a fucking cunt this cunt is.

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Met Gala 2019 Exegesis

Worst ever, obviously. And time to end this stupid event since there’s nowhere to go from here. Poor Anna Wintour wouldn’t know “camp” if Kim Kardashian’s butt read the dictionary definition aloud to her. The Met Gala is itself an exercise in camp. It could only improve on it’s ignorance by making next year’s theme “Classy.”

The red (actually pink) carpet was a nightmare of awfulness. Who were stupider, the celebrities who aimed for camp or the ones who ignored the theme entirely? You tell me.

My vote for biggest moron is Demi Moore, who clearly thought Fuck you, I’m elegant, I look younger than my daughters, just look at my hair extensions and facial work!

Most repulsive, Kim K, flaunting a greasy-looking distorted body and a houseboy wearing black streetwear. The other members of her family wore clown outfits appropriate to their stations in life.

Most delightful goes to Cardi B, whose tribute to Rihanna‘s yellow omelette dress looked like a gigantic cartoon of a blood cell. I loved her total commitment to the look, which included a bathing cap-like head covering. Most pitiful attempt at oneupsmanship was Nicki Minaj, who looked like a blob of pink pork laced into a pink ruffly tarp.

Lady Gaga takes the award for most needy, with Katy Perry a close second. Jared Leto wins the GO AWAY FOREVER prize with his stupid Gucci robe and severed head. Gucci designer Alessandro Michele also must go away, pleeeeeeeeeease Kering!

Emily Ratajkowski was the most Almost Naked (big surprise). Celine Dion was so close to most tragic that I hate to take it away from her. She gave it her all, including a peek at her crotch area.

But Harry Styles is my pick for Most Tragic, wearing his grandma’s sheer black negligee with a deer-in-the-headlights expression and a gratuitous dangly earring.  He probably thought he was being all Mick Jagger but instead he was Anna’s Bitch.

Meanwhile Anna herself chose a beautiful gown and feather cape, opting for straight up couture and leaving the lampshade hats to her guests. Thank you Anna, next!

Posted in Celebrities, Fashion, News | 11 Comments

Ivanka Goes to Africa, On Your Dime!

Ivanka Trump went to two shithole countries (Ethiopia and Ivory Coast) to tout her global economic program for women, a trip with all the pomp and ceremony of a King’s visit, paid for by We the People! Yay, Ivanka! Evita would envy this bitch’s sense of entitlement, which is off the fucking charts.

I love how Ivanka chose a fitted white Colonialist dress, complete with a little safari-style neck-scarf! It was the perfect choice for dancing around with African women, who smiled and laughed like happy children, despite working long backbreaking hours at textile looms, or bending over troughs of cocoa beans.

Speaking of cocoa, Ivanka praised her co-sponsors, including Nestle’s, known for its failure to observe international protocols for child labor.

I have to say that this is the most idiotic public relations scam I have seen in recent memory. Melania herself is a model of humility compared to Ivanka. No wonder they hate each other.

If you can stomach a little more, here’s Ivanka talking about the tremendous toll her “work” has taken on her family life.

“That’s a price that we’re paying together. I am looking forward to a time in the future when I can live a slightly more low-key private life and be able to spend a little bit more time with my children.”

Her kids, she stressed, are proud of the current family business.

Ivanka Trump said her 7-year-old daughter Arabella recently used her nanny’s phone to ask the Siri digital assistant how many people her father had helped get out of prison, after the passage of a criminal justice reform bill Kushner had helped champion.

“I think our kids are really proud and I share with them as many of these stories as I can,” Ivanka Trump said. “I’m certainly going to share the stories of this trip.”

Will she share the stories with the nanny, to pass on to the kids, or will she tell the kids directly? I have so many questions! Can I see Jared’s birth certificate? Who flat-irons Ivanka’s hair every morning? Will anyone ever mention Barron? And when can they all go to prison?

I’ll just try to be patient. At least there was no collusion.

Posted in Horrible Stuff, News, Words | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Butt Masks: Please Kill Me Already

butt masks just likk me alreadyy

When I saw an ad on Sephora online for a “Booty Mask“, I was excited by discovering a  new avenue of ridicule. Haha, I thought, how absurd, a beauty mask JUST FOR YOUR BUTT! I’m still amazed by the aisles full of weird Korean sheet masks at my local CVS. It seeks like overnight, people have become obsessed with masks. In my world, skin masks are something you do maybe every six months when you’re bored and nothing’s on TV.

Silly me! I went to laugh at the website for B-tight Booty Mask, because little did I know that butt products already comprise a whole category of creams and scrubs and masks that promise you a smaller, bigger, smoother, better smelling, tighter, and more voluminous ass.

Think about your butt and everything it has to go through every day. invest in your booty skin, Don’t leave your booty behind! 100% Safe & Effective. Increases Skin Firmness. Helps Reduce Cellulite. Tightens The Skin.

Do I really have to think about my butt more than I already do? As the daughter of a full-throated misogynist who liked to shout about random women, “Look at the fat ass on that one!” I am more than aware of my butt, and not in a good way. After 27 years of marriage, I still try to walk out of the room backward if I’m undressed.  I couldn’t put into words what the flaw is; I just know that my butt’s very existence is an offense of some kind.

And yet I am not prepared to buy any butt products. The language employed to describe these products is itself a crime against humanity. Here’s part of a review on Refinery29:

To my surprise, mirrors weren’t necessary — although I did literally “look back at it” twice while lying on my stomach just to make sure my entire bum was covered, adding more product as needed. Once satisfied with the pink-tinted mounds behind me, I did as instructed and scrolled Instagram for 20 minutes while it hardened.

“Pink-tinted mounds”?! SOMEONE NEEDS TO DIE.

Then there’s the actual names of the products, like “Tush” (“plumping and lifting infusers for the tush,” $175) and even worse, “That booty tho.” How could anyone name a product that, unless they’re trying to kill me personally?? I guess I should be grateful they didn’t go with “Dat”.


Who’d like to try a Bamboo Charcoal Butt Cheek Mask? This one you use after the Butt Cheek Cleanser, and it offers:

the added benefit of brightening age spots, sun spots and hyper-pigmentation. Ingredients include MSM and Vitamin C, which make the complexion look clearer and more radiant with each use.

Your butt has a complexion that needs to be radiant?? Is there enough time in the day to beautify every body part? I know there’s an overnight mask for your feet that promises to give you smooth, baby-soft feet. Maybe wee all need to be babies again. Soft and new, devoid of pores and age-spots, spitting up milk but still preferable to something that’s been around for awhile, accumulating age spots.

But wait, I just found Rump Bottom Rub by Lush, and the comments almost make it all worthwhile!

butt-masks-just-kill-me-alreadybutt-masks just kill me already

Ladies and other people with butts, are you ready to invest in the dream of a bigger, smaller, tighter, more radiant ass? Until they make one with my father’s voice screaming out of his car window, I am abstaining.

Posted in Disorders, irritants, Words | Tagged , , | 10 Comments

Pronoun Problems, Solved


If you’ve spend any time thinking about gender and pronouns, go and read what I wrote here, and get back to me with your thoughts, arguments, and insults! xo

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Let’s Say You’re Missing a Leg

let's say you're missing a legYou can imagine my delight at finding these wonderful trousers at the super edgy, superbly curated fashion site

Mid-rise. Four-pocket styling. Single cropped leg. Zip-fly. Partially lined. Tonal hardware.

“Single cropped leg.” Roger that. No explanation necessary! Here’s another view:

lets say youre missing a legSo good.  All eyes will be on you, hopefully. It’s a casual look, and quite breezy on the one leg, but you can upgrade for a more formal look by getting the nicely proportioned matching jacket.

lets say youre missing a legFor some reason, I think the trousers would be better for a one-legged person, don’t you? Instead of leaving that poor exposed leg to just hang there so vulnerably, a one-legged person would look great, without having to to take it to a tailor. I feel the same way about the popular one-armed look in dresses and tops. I just don’t feel good about the bared limb.

Let’s say you’re Dan Cooper, a guy who is currently featured on a reality show in the UK, living in a house with 4 other “extraordinary” people. Evidently, viewers don’t have much sympathy for Dan, who had his leg chopped off in order to feel “whole.”

let's say you're missing a leg

Dan has BIID, and suffered for many years with the affliction of having one too many legs. Interestingly, this appears to be an extremely British disorder. There’s a great documentary somewhere that spends time with a few of these guys and they are all British. A Scottish surgeon got in trouble for amputating healthy legs, even though he was just trying to prevent his patients from seeking a potentially life-threatening back alley solution to their being bipeds.

Be that as it may! Dan is now a TV personality and people will just have to learn to accept him. Thank god that fucking leg isn’t tormenting him any more. But how good would he look in those mid-rise, partially lined pants at Ssense?

I’m just saying.


Posted in Disorders, Fashion, Horrible Stuff | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Old Bag Fashionistas: Stop it!

old bag fashionistas stop it

Last night, I was watching Billions with my husband, and was moved to exclaim, “I had no idea I was capable of so much hate!” He laughed, because he has never doubted my capacity. It’s like I’m listening to the character called “Wags” and expending all my hatred on him when suddenly there is that guy who plays whatshisname’s father, and my well of hatred instantly fills up again, ready for action.

It is easily the worst show on cable TV, and we watch it in order to squirm with perverse pleasure at the horrible pseudo-hip dialogue and rabid overacting. But Billions is not my subject right now. Instead, I’d like to address the growing problem (ie., my hatred) of Old Lady Fashion Influencers.

old bag fashionistas

The most formidable of these appears to be Accidental Icon, who insists that she is “freaking cool”despite all evidence to the contrary. I’ll bet she is hopping mad about the newbie imitators wearing big black sunglasses and aggressive white bobs. A friend alerted me to Grece Ghanem, who has “worked her way up from influencer to style icon,” according to Who What Wear. She is 54 but looks ten years older. Revealing her style plan for 2019, she says this:

Goodbye to miniskirts and flat ballerinas. You will also see me sport [fewer] ruffles and all-sheer looks. I am highlighting a more modern silhouette in 2019. I am ready to hang my oversize, padded jackets with the strong shoulders and adopt a softer figure for the New Year.

Jesus Christ, I should hope it’s goodbye to miniskirts!

Checking her out on Instagram, I was rewarded by a montage of annoying fashion looks dominated by Gucci, Celine, and the usual suspects. Grece is a personal trainer so she likes to show off her arms. She also likes to wear those huge white sneakers, which makes me feel sad for her. But then, I saw her wearing a leather biker jacket and my whole world fell apart. I will never be able to feel good wearing a leather biker jacket, thanks to this old bag.

old bag fashionistas

I complained about this to my sister, who said, “If you stop wearing leather jackets, you are giving her too much power. DON’T LET HER WIN!” My sister has become a wise village elder in my life, and not a moment too soon! I will wear my jackets, because I am a proud anti-terrorist, but it won’t be without a frisson of shame.

At least Grece doesn’t seem too self-important like the Accidental Icon, who complains about being marginalized as a senior blogger. Boo-hoo! That’s what you get for letting your hair go white! She is one obnoxious old lady. The last time I looked at her, she seemed obsessed with Rick Owens. But now she’s in a scary ad for Go Daddy!

Oh my god, why is this happening??

Can’t we just be old ladies for fucksake!

Do you think I should start marketing myself as Deliberate Icon? Or maybe Fuck You, I’m Almost Dead?

My style is so nothing, and yet it is so distinctively Me! Jeans and t shirts and sweaters, with enormous size 10 shoes. I ignore fashion rules, except for the ones about not looking stupid, and Mutton Dressed as Lamb. I like to feel comfortable. I like stuff to fit normally. I am not freaking cool, but I’m Hot AF. How do I capitalize on this??

me me me me me hot af

Want to see more old bags? Here.

Posted in Celebrities, Fashion, Rants | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

Why Are They Torturing Me? Part 2

why are they torturing me part 2

When I think about the internet and how it has distorted the reality of day to day life, first I think about social media. Nothing matters unless it can be documented, or liked. Every  few hours, a gigantic wave of rage erupts on Twitter, all aimed at someone who crossed an invisible line with a thoughtless comment, or maybe an R. Kelly type figure who serves as a scapegoat for all the seething self-hatred that can never be examined or depleted, since it regenerates with every moment of inaction toward Facebook for selling your personal data and reminding you what you posted last year.

Next I think of all the time it has robbed from me, time I could spend doing anything offline, like clean the house or engage with a person face to face, not to mention generate my own thoughts. In the last two days, I have learned about Swedish preschools, rehab statistics, Japanese phonemes, Tucker Carlson’s misogyny, maternal infection and autism, restaurants that accommodate fat people, and the challenges faced by Uniqlo. This is just a small fraction of what I’ve consumed while sitting anxiously at my computer, wondering how I can find out everything about everything before it’s too late.

Do you do this? Maybe you don’t have the time, or if you do, you use it more constructively. Me, I don’t know how to discern what’s useful or important from garbage. I’m trying to resist the temptation to click on the worst crime stories, with some encouraging results. I did read about the little girl stuffed in a suitcase, and I read the comments on the mother’s fb page, calling her a piece of shit, etc. I already know not to click on the secrets of productive people or the truth about diets. That’s just instinctive knowledge. I’m not an idiot, after all. I’m just a person who has forgotten how to be present in my own life.

With all my desperate hunting and pecking online, I would have missed something noteworthy if it hadn’t been forwarded to me: the harrowing writing of Patricia Lockwood, who describes her own descent into internet lunacy, and it is terrifying. I don’t want to end up too immersed in online culture to find my way out. I’m not sure if there’s an antidote to the damage it’s done to my attention span and short-term memory.

Maybe blogging isn’t really writing or communicating. I’m not sure. I need to think it over.

Thoughts, anyone?

Posted in Disorders, Words | Tagged , | 11 Comments