| And I'm getting madder.

Okay, No.

Posted on June 7, 2018 by Sister Wolf

Jaime King is an actress or something who recently appeared on a red carpet with her 4 year old son James, who as you can see is dressed like a girl.

Can we not pretend that he isn’t dressed like a girl? If we can’t agree on this, just stop reading. Thanks.

Jaime posted this photo on social media, and naturally, a bunch of celebs were eager to applaud her excellent parenting. “What a wonderful mom and human you are,” wrote Lisa Ling.

Jesus Christ! This is what gets you praise as a mother in 2018. Good for you, you’re letting a toddler decide its gender! I’m sorry but this bitch is way out of line with this. My belief system is going to be labeled outmoded and transphobic by forward thinking liberals but I’m good with that. My feelings come from experience with preschool children, who are all drawn to fancy clothes, whatever their gender.

Preschool children, when presented with a trunk full of clothes to play with, will go for the feathered boas and princess outfits BECAUSE THEY ARE FANCY AND PRETTY! My friend, who ran a beloved preschool for a hundred years, explained this to me when I expressed concern with one of my young sons. He was around 3 and wanted a sexy harem girl costume for Halloween. We were looking at a catalogue, and I said, “Nah, lets look at these costumes instead.” He grew up to be a regular cis male in every possible respect.

Do you think I should have squealed “YES, let’s get that harem girl outfit! Your wishes will guide me! Want a couple of dozen doughnuts, too?” I didn’t feel like encouraging behavior that struck me as inappropriate. If he had continued to exhibit a desire for dresses, at some point I would have sought professional help to figure things out.

I remember another mom, that same Halloween, who got her preschool boy a lavish gown to wear, with a lot of trailing chiffon. I disapproved but minded my own business. I’m pretty sure he dressed like a girl after that.

My mom dressed my sister and me in all kinds of outfits, but she kept our hair short. I think she was too lazy to deal with brushing it. I’m so glad she didn’t dress me like a cowboy or policeman. I had enough trouble fitting in. (Now, of course, I’m a gay man in a female body, but that’s a whole other post.)

In our effort to support gender fluidity, parents are jumping at the chance to be supportive. I think it would be more supportive to wait and observe. Toddlers love to experiment with everything. It’s how they learn. Gender is more than a social construct, as brain science tells us.

But Jaime King started a gender-free line of clothing two years ago. Is this the chicken or the egg? Who knows. I only know that the photo above does not merit a Mom of the Year Award so much as a HOLD UP! citation. Just no.

Alright, come at me, social justice warriors!

Posted in News, Rants | Tagged gender, idiots, mothers | 19 Comments

Kate Spade – Another Disturbance in the Force

Posted on June 5, 2018 by Sister Wolf

I wanted to rant about the celebrities on Twitter who are responding to the suicide of Kate Spade with recollections of their first Kate Spade bag. IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU, I was thinking in disgust, who cares about your fucking personal memories right now?

But my own reaction, having been “triggered”, was equally personal and about me.

My feeling was, don’t send condolences to her family or the usual bullshit, talk about suicide prevention and signs of risk.

Some woman who claimed to be a friend told CNN that the suicide was “out of character.” Like it was unusual for Kate Spade to kill herself. Idiot.

But Kate Spade’s sister gives a harrowing account of Kate’s persistent mental illness. The sister says that for years, she’s been trying to get Kate to admit herself to a hospital, to get treatment for her depression. She recalls how fixated Kate was on Robin Williams’ death. She reveals that Kate feared going public about her depression would ruin her personal brand as a happy, bubbly person. Most upsetting, the sister says that she finally had to “let go.”

“Sometimes you simply cannot SAVE people from themselves! One of the last things she said to me was, ‘Reta, I know you hate funerals and don’t attend them, but for me would you PLEASE come to MINE, at least. Please!’ I know she perhaps had a plan, but she insisted she did not.”

Well, letting go isn’t the answer when a loved one talks about their own funeral.

Letting go is never going to help a person in crisis, even if the crisis goes on an on.

I’m so sorry about this. In order to leave a 13 year old daughter, Kate Spade must have been in unbearable pain. You take your own life only when your suffering is stronger than your resources, I have read. She must have thought her family was better off without her. Because that’s how the suicidal brain works.

I’d like everyone who is worried about someone to call them up. Remind them that you care about them, that you need them in your life. If you’ve already had enough of someone’s resistant despair, have some more of it! Do not let go. Hang on tight. If you have a gut feeling that something is wrong, don’t ignore it.

I’m sorry. Kate Spade may have found peace, but those around her are just beginning to face a loss that will never end.

Text HOME to 741741 from anywhere in the USA
for free 24/7 crisis support

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Posted in Horrible Stuff, News, Words | Tagged depression, mental illness, suicide | 6 Comments

What is Wrong With People?

Posted on May 27, 2018 by Sister Wolf

Recently, I’ve been wasting my time on Instagram, because it’s the ultimate passive diversion. Mostly, I follow handsome African models, tattoo artists, and jewelry designers. It’s pleasant eye candy, and it enables me to spend hours on the couch without moving or having to think.

A woman who seemed to share my sensibility started to chat with me there. I told her that I’m a grieving mother, as I consider this to be a significant part of my identity. So anyway, in order to soften the blow of this, I added that I have some pretend adopted children, (Chris, Ali, and Simone, xoxo)

Here’s this woman’s reply:

She went on to elaborate on how well the adoption has turned put and how nice the person was to “open her house to an orphan.”

I was so disconcerted that I continued to chat with her about this and that. I hate when I do this. I need to get better at going, ARE YOU CRAZY? But anyway, let me ask you:

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE????

Why do people say such awful things?? “Because they’re uncomfortable” isn’t good enough. Can you imagine if someone’s cat died, coming back with, Oh, a friend of mine had a cat that was torn to pieces by a coyote! No, you can’t imagine, because you’re just not that awful.

One of my loved ones was diagnosed with cancer, and is now cancer free and in great shape. But when they told people about the diagnosis, they were often caught off-guard by the stupidest and cruelest responses. I can’t repeat them here. But the correct reply is not “My grandma just died of cancer!”

If someone confides in you, regarding some misfortune, it’s not hard to just say, “I’m so sorry. Are you doing okay?” I find myself saying this fairly often, since bad things keep happening to friends and complete strangers. Please, please try this next time you are lost for words.

Next up is the non-compliment. A friend told me today that when she tried on some new sparkly eye shadow, her husband noticed and asked her, “What have you done to your eyes?” I laughed at the hostility of this response, partly because I know her husband and it’s a perfect summation of his personality.

I think it’s a good rule to not comment on anyone’s physicality UNLESS THEY ASK YOU TO WEIGH IN! Don’t say anything about my shoes if it’s not a compliment. Don’t call anything I’m wearing “fun.” I know what fun means, motherfuckers! Don’t say to people, “Is your hair different?” If their hair looks great, you can say so, but otherwise, just shut up. Never, ever, say to anyone “If you like it, that’s what matters!” under any circumstances.

There are so many expressions that strike me as inherently out of order, like when I was stroking my husband in my sleep and he muttered, Keep still. “Keep still” is what my dentist used to say when I was six years old and terrified. “Keep still” is what someone says when they’re lasering your eyeball or operating on your brain or getting ready to shoot you.

Thoughts? What do people say that bothers you or makes you wonder what the fuck is wrong with them?

Posted in Horrible Stuff, Rants, Words | Tagged awful people, common sense, Stupid fucking idiots | 19 Comments

George And Amal Clooney: No.

Posted on May 17, 2018 by Sister Wolf

I’ve nurtured an irrational hatred for Amal Clooney since I first heard of her engagement to George. The portrait of Amal in the current issue of Vogue magazine is a cornucopia of enraging new tidbits. I love how she invites a traumatized Syrian refugee to visit her English palace on the day of her interview with the fawning Vogue journalist.

I love how a nanny produces the Clooney infant twins for Amal to coo at, in between outfit changes.

I love how Amal had to put in a veritable forest of trees to obscure the view of her palace from the riffraff. I love how unapologetic she is about her consumption of couture fashion. And I super love how she manages to look awful no matter how much money she spends. If she would only eat!

But reading about her noble support of refugees, my thoughts turned to George, who just sold his Tequila company and reaped over $200 million for his share in it. We all know what a humanitarian George is, so I googled his name along with the word “refugees.”Lo and behold, George Clooney started The Clooney Foundation For Justice with his wife…

to advance justice for marginalized and vulnerable communities targeted by hate; justice for displaced children deprived of opportunities to learn; justice for refugees seeking to rebuild their lives abroad.

George is not just talk, no sir. In fact, he has been subsidizing a Yazidi Iraqi immigrant who’s been living in George’s Kentucky house while going to college! The guy’s name is Hazim. He seems really nice. If you google George Clooney, you will see that ten thousand news organizations have run the touching story of Clooney’s big heart in helping Hazim to succeed in America.

Why Kentucky instead of one of Clooney’s other properties? Because the Clooney’s don’t live there. And George’s parents are nearby in case Hazim needs anything! How nice for George’s parents to have access to their own immigrant, as it were.

On the foundation’s website, under the Refugee Resettlement Project, we learn about Hazim, followed with this:

To support our program and/or to refer participants to it, please send relevant details to us at info@cfj.org.

So, send some money or help them resettle refugees ONE AT A TIME, according to merit.

George cares deeply about the state of the world, so he gets $40 million for being the celebrity face of Nescafe. Nescafe, of course, is a subsidiary of Nestle, one of the world’s most egregious corporations in terms of child slave labor, privatizing water, international health threats, etc.

If George wasn’t so busy positioning himself for President (or Ambassador?), he could do his homework. He could be mad at Amal’s Lebanese family for their antisemitism and arms dealing.

Why can’t he just settle down with a nice guy he genuinely loves, like his pal, ahem, Randee Gerber, instead of this silly charade with Amal?

Wait, I strayed too far from Amal. Last week, she infuriated Tom Ford and Anna Wintour by electing to wear a crazy outfit by It-Boy Richard Quinn on the Met Gala red carpet, instead of the gown Ford made for her. The last minute change of dress was taken as a huge insult to Ford, who asked that she return the dress to be used for another red carpet event. But no. Amal changed into the Ford dress during the gala! Having got the attention with Quinn’s goofy costume, she could now relax.

I think George Clooney has made a deal with the devil who won’t wear Tom Ford. This bitch will run through his money in five years if he doesn’t up his corporate shill game. And if you think the Clooneys are a real love match, I don’t know, take it up with his exes, who describe him as “more like a father.”

If you’re going, “But remember George’s tireless support for South Sudan!” read this.

Cunt.

Thoughts, complaints, counter-arguments?

Posted in Celebrities, Fashion, News, Rants | Tagged Amal Clooney, cunts, idiots, politics | 12 Comments

Raising The Dead

Posted on May 11, 2018 by Sister Wolf

This year I’m not going to write about Mother’s Day, but the next best thing, death.

I’ve just came across the work of photo-journalist Alain Schroeder in a series called Living for Death, and the story blew my mind. I want to share it and hear your thoughts.

In Toraja,Indonesia, the rituals associated with death are complex, require extensive planning and are expensive. Therefore, when a person dies, it can take weeks, months even years for the family to organize the funeral. During this time, the deceased is considered to be “sick” and kept at home. Relatives continue to interact with them offering gifts of cigarettes and betel leaves, drinking coffee, having meals by their side and conversing with them. While, it remains a sad time, the transition from life to death is a slow and peaceful process strengthening family bonds. Depending on the family, the body may be kept uncovered, bundled in layers of cloth or in a coffin.

The funeral ceremony, Rambu Solo, lasts 3 to 7 or more days according to the social status of the family and includes, traditional dances and processions for receiving guests, buffalo and coq fighting, animal sacrifice and large feasts. In the region of Pangala, the Ma’ Nene, or cleaning of the corpses, ceremony takes place in August after the rice harvest. Coffins are removed from their burial sites and opened. The mummies are cleaned, dried in the sun and given a change of clothes. Expressions of sadness are mixed with the overall happy atmosphere surrounding these moments of bonding with loved ones and honoring ancestors.

I find this culture’s attitude toward death immensely moving, and wonderful. The first person I discussed this with one person who was mildly disgusted, and observed that it seemed very primitive. Another person was delighted.

Maybe primitive isn’t so bad. The First World has divorced itself from most primitive customs, starting with childbirth.

I remember in every detail the birth of my first child, and reaching out for him. It was totally without thought, just a primitive reflex. But instead of handing him over, the nurses took him and wheeled me alone to the recovery area. I still feel cheated out of those first moments of motherhood! Now, many of us believe that children should be born at home, and that’s a great step backwards, toward the primitive.

I wonder if our culture is capable of a step backwards in its attitude toward death. We are so squeamish about it that The Neptune Society is making a fortune off of our rush to be rid of our dead. Just hurry up and throw their ashes into the sea so we can begin our Journey of Grief, or of Fighting Over The Will.

Everyone seems to like celebrating Dia de los Muertos, with it’s Goth costumes and other hipster friendly activities. But the Toraja take it to another level. Maybe somewhere between their culture and ours there’s a way to accept and embrace death as part of a natural cycle if not a voyage to the other side.

In Mexico, it’s not uncommon to surround your dead loved one with ice until all family members have had a chance to visit and say goodby. In the deaths I’ve experienced, there’s a haste to get the body out of the house. Because death has suddenly made the loved one a piece of refuse? People probably had more respect during the Plague than they do now in the US.

Looking at Schroeder’s photos, I noticed in one that far from looking primitive, a mourner is carrying a fucking nice handbag, probably a designer knockoff.

So perhaps it’s possible to straddle both worlds, the modern and primitive, in a way that connects us to our humanity and spirituality while still allowing for nice handbags! This is my dream.

What about you?

Posted in Art, grief, Religion | Tagged culture, death, photography | 7 Comments

Rachel Dolezal: Not Just Crazy

Posted on April 29, 2018 by Sister Wolf

I watched the new documentary about Rachel Dolezal with a mounting sense of disbelief that turned to anger, pity, sadness and revulsion, cycling through all these emotions several times. What a piece of work is Rachel Dolezal. And yet in no way deserving of the seething hatred still aimed at her.

The film may be just a Rorschach test that divides people along color lines. I’m not black, so I can’t access the outrage she evinces in that community. I will be shocked if any black viewers decide to cut her any slack. As a white woman, I feel compassion. Because above all else, she is fucking nuts.

The film details her childhood: Evangelical white parents who adopt a bunch of black kids only to beat them like animals. It’s not hard to see why the blonde, dowdy, emotionally abused Rachel would side with the black children. They are literal innocents, and she strives to save them.

Somewhere along the line, she imagines that she’s one of them. That part is the thing that can’t be explained, or, apparently, forgiven. She continues to insist on her blackness to this day, at the same time acknowledging that she was born white. She views her racial “identity” as similar to gender identity – something one can decide, and expect others to respect, or at least accept.

Part of me wants to think, Well, yeah, if I can tell you I’m really a man inside my female body, why can’t I also tell you that I’m black? If it’s simply a case of I am what I feel I am, why is gender okay but not ethnicity? What is so sacred about ethnicity?

How you answer that question makes all the difference.

Putting that aside, there are Rachel’s children, who are clearly suffering from her notoriety. Your heart breaks for them, especially the sensitive 13 year old, whose father is a black man we never meet. Why doesn’t she put her children first and do what’s best for them? Maybe she’s convinced that she is doing what’s best, by standing her ground and not giving in to societal pressure. Or maybe she’s incapable of putting anyone’s needs before her raging exhibitionism and deep psychological wounds.

Then there’s her fucking hair. Oh my god, the hair. In the course of the film, she changes her hair a million times. The knee-length braided extensions underscore her not-Beyonce-ness. But she doesn’t give a fuck. Her hair is like a whole extra character.

When she brings a new baby into the drama swirling around her, it’s hard not to question her motives. And sanity. It seems like the last things she needs, but then we see how much the older kids adore the baby…whose father, naturally, is black.

The most disturbing aspect of this brutal character study is Rachel’s seeming gluttony for abuse and punishment. She continues to court a high social media profile, despite the barrage of hateful comments that attend her every Facebook post and public appearance. Writing a book about herself only stokes the hatred. But she seems baffled by it and stubbornly refuses to back down or apologize.

What’s wrong with Rachel Dolezal? Never underestimate the consequences of sustained child abuse, but this is more.

In her deludedness, she is more heartbreaking than infuriating. And in the end, to me, she is almost worthy of admiration in her strength of purpose. She will not crack. She will not give in, no matter what.

The very last scene is a spoiler that will blow your mind. Once you’ve seen “The Rachel Divide,” a fascinating but draining experience, get back to me and tell me what you think.

Posted in Art, Disorders, News | Tagged controversy, mental illness, movies, racism | 6 Comments

How Much Pills Would a Woodchuck Chuck?*

Posted on April 26, 2018 by Sister Wolf

My meds don’t work anymore but I’m afraid to get off them. Effexor is notorious for terrible withdrawal symptoms like dizziness, nausea, migraines, nightmares, brain zaps, insomnia and more. Drug companies prefer the word “discontinuation” to “withdrawal.” They warn you to seek your doctor’s help if you want to stop taking your meds; they know you will be fucked, no matter how slowly you titrate down.

My prescribing doctor insists that I should try adding Abilify. Call me crazy but I don’t want to add drowsiness, weight gain, blurred vision, drooling, restlessness and possible tardive dyskinesia to my current panoply of “challenges.” He has written prescriptions several times, saying, “What’s the worst that can happen?”

The original literature on Ability says:

[it] can be effective in treating the acute manic episodes of bipolar disorder in adults, adolescents and children. However, its effect is only useful for the manic phases with little or no effect on the depressive phases.

Abilify is an expensive drug and so naturally the strategy is, Just use it for other shit as an add-on! If I wanted some more debilitating side effects, I could just stuff my face and bang my head with a frying pan every day.

If you’re taking antidepressants, you probably had a compelling reason to start. But no one ever says, “Hey, you’re functioning pretty good now, let’s get you off these meds!” And no one knows the long term consequences for your poor brain.

Once in a while, I forget to take my Effexor. I can always tell the next morning, because one day without them triggers epic nightmares of blood pouring from the ceiling or worse.

I’m never going to be “happy” in the usual sense. I would settle for miserable. Meanwhile, my brain is stuck in exhausting circular rumination and an urge to be unconscious. I keep wondering about the purpose of life. Not just mine, but mine most acutely.

Do normal people wonder about this? I just don’t know. What are they thinking about instead?

Does anyone have any advice that isn’t a personal horror story? Or if you must, I’ll listen to your horror story. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Posted in Horrible Stuff, Rants | Tagged crazy people, depression, drugs, mental illness | 18 Comments

Just Fuck You, MacDonald’s

Posted on April 11, 2018 by Sister Wolf

This commercial drives me crazy. What the fuck are they thinking?????

I googled it and found that plenty of other people hate it too. They find it racist, which it is. Overtly. But the whole scenario is so stupid and rife with problems, all jammed into just 31 seconds.

Why would the manager grab the envelope and read the contents aloud without knowing what it said? God damn it.

Can anyone explain why this commercial hasn’t been retired? Is it to cheer up racists or what?

Thoughts?

Posted in irritants, Rants | Tagged advertising, TV | 7 Comments

Black Wives Matter: The Johnny Cash Cover-Up

Posted on April 7, 2018 by Sister Wolf

How many people who’ve seen Walk the Line (the movie about Johnny Cash) would be amazed by these pictures of his first wife, Vivian?

I can’t get over how dismayed I am by the choice to portray Vivian Cash as a white Italian woman, given the truth.

I know that at the time, it was illegal to marry a person of another race. In the South, it must have been pretty risky. And if you wanted to be a famous country performer, it would cause way too much controversy. In fact, after the photo above was printed in a newspaper, the couple were threatened by the Klan, and there was a movement to boycott Cash’s records.

So his manager or someone produced records that “proved” Vivian was white. She was described as Italian or Sicilian. Now, everyone was happy.

But not me. Cash had four daughters with his first wife. None of them seem eager to discuss their ethnicity, and it’s nobody’s business anyway. Still, as a fan of Johnny Cash and a gullible moviegoer, I don’t want to be fed some bullshit about his life story. Whether it’s more palatable to the public to forget about Vivian and just think about Johnny and June instead, or because the movie business still can’t stand to portray women of color, it’s dismaying.

2018 is beginning to feel like 1953 in America, before civil rights and before racism was identified as something to be condemned. What the fuck! When can we go back to correcting wrongs instead of perpetuating new ones?

I guess black people are accustomed to being whitewashed by Hollywood. I feel bad about being so ignorant.

People argue about Vivian’s ethnicity and see what they want to see. I’m not a genealogist but I’m not blind either. I see a cover-up and I’ll never think of Johnny and June without a sense of betrayal. Fuck them.

Thoughts?

Posted in Celebrities, Rants | Tagged music, myths, racism, what the fuck | 19 Comments

Happy Birthday To Max

Posted on March 25, 2018 by Sister Wolf

Max loved butter. It started with toast, which turned into Toast Parties, meaning a a large quantity of buttered toast eaten in one sitting.

Bread was merely a vehicle for butter, he told us. Then what’s the butter knife? his little brother wanted to know. The knife was the concierge.

Max loved pesto, chocolate, burgers, pasta, ice cream, ribs, and cheese. He loved condiments. He loved dogs and babies. He loved cashmere and velvet. He was very tactile. He loved reading and his writing impressed all his professors.

He loved Henry Miller, Derrick Jensen, Don DeLillo, Shakespeare, Matt Taibbi, Martin Amis and Poe. He loved philosophy. He was an atheist who read books about religion. He loved art. He loved nature. He loved honeysuckle and often stuck a little flower behind his ear when he was out taking a walk.

Most of all, he loved music. Loved isn’t a strong enough word. He loved the Stones, Pixies, Velvet Underground, Beatles, Surf guitar, Gogol Bordello, Dresden Dolls, Hank Williams, The Ronettes, Beach Boys, David Bowie, Dengue Fever, Os Mutantes, The Kinks, a million ancient blues singers and the Ramones. He loved his first guitar, a Strat, and he finally acquired his holy grail, a Hummingbird.

He taught his friends how to play guitar. Some of them wrote to me with memories of this. They wanted me to know he’d been an important figure in their lives.

Max loved prank calls and was an inventive practitioner of the art. He loved pranks in general, the more subversive or absurd the better. He liked to annoy people but he couldn’t hold a grudge. He liked to sing in funny voices, unable to believe he could actually sing. He loved Mac the Knife when he was a kid, and patiently transcribed the lyrics, stopping the record over and over to do it. He wrote down every Huh! Huh! I’m pretty sure I have it somewhere.

We liked to compare top ten lists of books, movies, and desert island records. We shared a hatred of cheesy rock bands. In a perverse response to a thing I wrote about stuff I love, he made an exhaustive list of every band he hated:

Getting back to hatred for a minute, i coincidentally just compiled my own list of classic rock bands I hate. Before making this list, I thought of myself as a classic rock lover (Beatles, Stones, Dylan, Love, Doors, Velvets, Beach Boys, David Bowie, Neil Young, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, etc.) But now I am not so sure. I wouldn’t mind if the work of these “artists” was erased from existence:

grateful dead
the who
the eagles / don henley
steeley dan
santana
jethro tull
king crimson
billy joel
sting
U2
Rush
Chicago
America
Kansas
Journey
Aerosmith
bob segar
steve miller
tom petty
alice cooper
frank zappa
supertramp
styx
eric clapton
ELO
earth wind and fire
blood sweat and tears
bad company
iron butterfly
robert palmer
deep purple
doobie brothers
crosby stills & nash
grand funk railroad
the guess who
mountain
thin lizzy (except “whiskey in the jar”)
allman brothers
lynard skynard
peter frampton
the cult
steppenwolf
heart
Emerson Lake & Palmer
zz top
ted nugent
bon jovi
humble pie
hot tuna
ten years after
j geils band
little feat
robin trower
badfinger
genesis / phil collins / peter gabriel
yes
tower of power
nrbq
three dog night
john cougar mellencamp
spirit
brian adams
acdc
sweet
carole king
leon russell
carly simon
sugarloaf
meatloaf
jimmy buffett
wings

I love how thorough he was! And I love the Maxness of “getting back to hatred for a minute.”

Max was funny. It took a lot to make him laugh aloud, but he was hysterically funny.

I forgot to say that he loved Andy Kaufman.

After eight years, it terrifies me to think what I may have forgotten. The part that doesn’t change is the love and the grief. Every fucking night, it’s goodnight sweet prince. Tomorrow I will light another candle and speak to the little flame until it goes out.

Posted in grief, love, Words | Tagged Max | 12 Comments