| And I'm getting madder.

Frank Sinatra: What a Fucking Cunt!™

Posted on December 26, 2016 by Sister Wolf

George Michael was my guilty secret at one time, a crush I was embarrassed to admit. But really, who could resist that beautiful voice and sensual face, the obscure sadness behind even his poppiest songs?

Another horrible loss to 2016, the second worst year of my life. Our icons are dropping like flies and only an assassin can save us from catastrophe in 2017.

Meanwhile, I was disgusted to learn that in 1990, Frank Sinatra felt compelled to respond to an interview with George Michael in the Los Angeles Times.

In the interview, Michael discussed his disillusionment with fame:

Stardom can make you miserable. After all, everybody wants to be a star. I certainly did, and I worked hard to get it. But I was miserable, and I don’t want to feel that way again.

Well, that was too much for Old Blue eyes, who shot back with this letter.

“Loosen up. Swing, man.” Jesus Christ, what a cunt. Who asked you, motherfucker?

Then the gossamer wings crack. Why not just call him a fairy, Frank?

I’ve seen this letter all over the place today, described as ‘Sinatra’s advice ‘ to George Michael.

It’s just an arrogant prick spouting off. Fuck him.

As I have said too many times, if he died every day for the next hundred years, Frank Sinatra will never be dead enough for me.

R.I.P. George Michael, I miss you already.

Posted in Art, Celebrities, grief, Rants, Words | Tagged Frank Sinatra, fucking cunts, George Michael | 7 Comments

Just Admit It

Posted on December 21, 2016 by Sister Wolf

The other day, I was devising a plan to get an acquaintance to admit that he will never drive to my house. I would put him on the spot by issuing an open invitation, saying, “Just pick any day that you’d like to come over and that will be fine!”

Ha, I thought. What then? That’ll fuck him up!

My husband pointed out that the acquaintance would just say, “Let’s talk after the holidays.”

Then he asked me what good it would do to get this guy to admit the truth.

Let’s pause here.

I have some questions.

Do you like to hear the truth?
Are you annoyed when you know someone is not being straight with you?
Do you practice denial in your daily life?
Do you respect other people’s right to practice denial?
Do you try to avoid being frank about unpleasant things?
And of course: Can you handle the truth?

I can’t handle the untruth. One of my most obnoxious traits is that I go around trying to get people to admit stuff.

There’s a song by Jane’s Addiction called “Ted, Just Admit it“that refers to Ted Bundy, the serial killer who wouldn’t admit to his crimes until just before he was executed.

I think of the title all the time, when someone is expecting me to accept some bullshit, however insignificant. JUST ADMIT IT TED, I feel like yelling. In fact, I think I have yelled it a couple times.

No one likes a friend who acts like a cross examining prosecutor but that doesn’t stop me.

Why can’t everybody just admit everything?

Is Oedipus an allegory about the price of knowing the truth? What about the story of Adam and Eve? Why are there so many myths that reinforce the idea that ignorance is bliss?

The truth might not set you free but it will make me feel better. I just want to hear it and get it over with.

Admit that you’re tired of this confession, which is territory I have already covered, sort of.

Admit that you don’t care about bad faith, as defined in existentialism.

Admit your deepest secret, at least to yourself, and see how liberating it is.

Admit everything, except in a court of law or a 12 step meeting or if your boss finds out you haven’t been filing those things but instead you just threw them in a box somewhere because you were busy fucking around online. Then you should just keep your mouth shut.

Posted in Disorders | Tagged bullshit, serial killers, stuff I can't handle | 7 Comments

Boy Or Girl

Posted on December 19, 2016 by Sister Wolf

If you’re wondering whether this is a boy or girl, how dare you!

Why should it matter?! You are stuck in your binary thinking.

Even wondering is a microagression. I’m not kidding. What’s your fucking problem?

The whole idea of gender is ridiculous and insulting. It’s not only a cultural construct, but bla bla bla.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy, and I don’t even understand Shakespeare.

Gender is a spectrum. You need to be more gender-expansive.

Here, try again.

Some people are really mad about the latest issue of National Geographic.

Me, I don’t have to worry about being a gay man in a woman’s body. I’m comfortable with myself just as god made me. For others, it’s not so easy.

I certainly don’t care who uses which bathroom, as long as the line’s not too long.

But I admit I still like to know if I’m looking at a boy or girl.

Are you as fucked up in this respect?

Thoughts, insults, advice?

Posted in Fashion, irritants | Tagged gays, gender, men and women | 12 Comments

Don’t Worry, We Still Have Denim

Posted on December 18, 2016 by Sister Wolf

Until Donald Trump appoints a Commissioner of Denim to take it away from us, we still have denim to turn to for a spark of joy. This jacket by DSquared2 brings a whole forest fire of joy, with it’s thick encrusted bib and poofy shoulders.

From behind, it looks like some creature has hopped onto the host organism and won’t let go.

I like the gloves too, which hint at a skin disease. At $3,680, this is a true collector’s piece.

What if you paired the jacket with these jeans?

R13’s Alison Leyton crop jeans are assembled from blue stretch-denim ornamented with frayed patches.

I like how they’re “assembled” and “ornamented.” This is no haphazard sewing class failure! This is art. As always, a team of teething babies worked for days, chewing on the patches to ensure a realistic fraying.

At $595, these jeans are a steal. In fact, oops, I see now that they’re sold out at Barney’s but I’ll help you find a pair if you need them.

Finally, a jacket from Mark Jacobs.

This one says “80’s K-Mart” and that’s the joke. Get it?? A horrible acid-washed color, afflicted with pins and patches: a razor blade, peace sign, a fake ska emblem, and some crap on the back.

Ew. I’d like to know the customer who’d pay $895 for this. Even a Kardashian knows better.

But who am I to judge; I’m just here to spread the joy.

Posted in Fashion | Tagged denim, hideous crap, online shopping | 9 Comments

Do You See What I See?

Posted on December 14, 2016 by Sister Wolf

When I first saw the picture above, I saw a guy about to jump.

I still see that, but I’m aware that it’s just an ad for some new Nike’s.

My brain is not good, or let’s say it’s not operating in a beneficial way.

I once had a thriftshop painting of a guy holding a baby, and it looked clear to me that he was about to throw it off a balcony. I liked to ask people to look at it and tell me what they saw. I wasn’t the only one who saw that but the vast majority saw a guy holding a baby, even tenderly holding it.

I saw this painting at the vet’s office and was reminded of the guy-with-the-baby picture:

Here, I see a guy about to throw the dog off of something, even though he is sad about it. He’s thinking, “Well, I wish I didn’t have to.”

I remember taking the Rorschach inkblot test when I was around 12 years old. Some genius had figured out that I was troubled. I recall seeing people sitting despondently, waiting to get shot or something. After a few of these inkblots, I realized that my answers sounded nuts. I can’t remember if I decided to make up better reactions.

Lots of psychological notions are amusingly archaic but the theory of projection is still pretty sound, don’t you think?

Trump is projecting, every time he rants about corruption or liars or crooks. That’s just a big Duh.

I’m sorry, I don’t know how Trump got in here. I wish he were only a projection of my hatred of authority, or my dad.

At least I don’t see dead people. I see despondent people.

Trump And Kanye: The Perfect Convergence

Posted on December 13, 2016 by Sister Wolf

It is only natural that Trump invites Kanye to Trump Tower instead of holding that scheduled press conference.

Kanye has just been released from a psychiatric ward so he’s the perfect guest for today’s episode of The Trump Show. (And watch the dap, it is truly the money shot.)

They will work their way up to Kim and maybe even Kylie for the youth market, then they can have Young Thug, Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber, The Bachelor, and the Victoria’s Secret models.

Later in the season, there will be Madonna, to talk about misogyny and ageism. Drake will hang out with Trump and Jred Kushner in a mini Jewish Summit.

This is the show of our dreams, if our dreams are a waking nightmare, and we’ll watch it whenever we gather our nerve to crawl out of bed.

I’d like to suggest interspersing The Trump Show, season 1, with viewings of Bunuel’s L’Age d’Or. It can serve as a bracing counterpart to the ongoing Idiocracy .

Bunuel’s L’Age d’Or operates on the duality between gold and shit. And throughout the film, everything sacred and pure was eventually equated to what is base and foul.

God, shit, president, moron, news, conspiracies, politicians, celebrities, make everything great again.

I can’t take much more for today so I’m retiring to my bed. Wake me up if Kim makes an appearance or Trump blows Putin or Exxon cancels the series. thanks!

Posted in Celebrities, Horrible Stuff | Tagged apocalypse, Donald Trump, Kanye West | 3 Comments

Do The Math

Posted on December 11, 2016 by Sister Wolf

$do-the-math$

I went to the doctor to get some awful infusion for my decrepit bones, and all I could think about was that I’d gained two pounds.

I don’t have a scale at home and I don’t like getting on them but the nurse told me to do it. I was horrified by the two new pounds. Just a few weeks earlier, I’d been to another doctor and I’d found my weight acceptable.

Here’s where it gets good. I complained and whined that I didn’t want to be fat, on top of everything else. Nothing would stop me from being pissed off. I decided it must have been my heavy shoes.

So the next day, I put my shoes in a plastic bag and took them to the market to weigh them in the produce department. The plastic bag shows how thoughtful I am.

Sure enough, two pounds!

Now I can breathe a little easier but this has underscored how deep-rooted the fear of fat is.

But the fear of fat, at this point, is tied up with aging, a dreadful prospect. And yet we must all age, even though the only woman on earth who is really old but not tragic and still hot is Gloria Steinem.

Aging doesn’t suit me and I don’t want it. I have looked at old ladies who are celebrated for their beauty and it’s still awful. It makes me want to just give up. Here’s a 62 year old model who posed for an American Apparel ad:

Here’s a model who is 70:

This one is 71:

This last one is a model who looks like she must spend a lot of time weighing her shoes. She is very lean and everyone loves her.

This is the best you can hope for (unless you’re Gloria Steinem.) You can look like an ancient old crone who has refused to Let Herself Go. And where’s the appeal in that??

As the years go by, try to think of me like this, asking my husband how my butt looks –

And know that these shoes weigh a full two pounds.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Donald Trump: Cunt Of The Year!™

Posted on December 10, 2016 by Sister Wolf

Kudos to Donald Trump for winning this coveted award.

He will dismantle public education, health care, environmental protection, voting rights, public housing, and then he will blow up the whole world!

Great choice, republicans.

Now, we can duck and cover, take to the streets, call for impeachment, pray he has a fatal heart attack or pretend this is all a dream.

Moving to Canada won’t help.

Every day, all day long, what a fucking cunt.

Follow the corruption here.

Posted in Horrible Stuff, News | Tagged cunts, Donald Trump, just kill me, politics, revolution | 7 Comments

Poor Little Barron, Autistic Or Otherwise

Posted on December 6, 2016 by Sister Wolf

The maker of a YouTube video suggesting that Barron Trump is autistic has taken the video down and replaced it with a grovelling apology.

The apology is in response to a threat from Melania Trump’s lawyer, who goes around intimidating journalists and bloggers who have incurred the nude model’s wrath.

I watched the video last week, curious about its premise that ten year old Barron is on the autistic spectrum. Clip after clip showed Barron seeming to have difficulty with social cues.

When Mike Pence tries to shake Barron’s hand, the boy keeps his arms rigidly by his side. In other situations, Barron does some mild hand-flapping and makes some weird facial expressions. Most of the time, Barron’s face shows little affect. He is blank but angelic, a description that will strike a chord with most moms of kids on the spectrum.

The video went viral and the Trumps went ballistic, presumably because the mere suggestion that their kid isn’t “perfect” is grounds for a lawsuit. Or maybe because they’re ashamed of having an autistic kid. Maybe they view autism as a defect they need to hide, like John Travolta and his son Jett.

James Hunter, the video’s creator, said in an interview:

I’m honestly kinda scared right now. The only reason I made the video is because I saw how much social media was bullying Barron Trump, and I wanted it to stop. I was just sending it privately to people who were bullying him to explain to them that Barron might be autistic, and that’s it isn’t okay to bully him for it, because I know what it’s like to be bullied for being autistic.

That was before he heard this from the lawyer:

A video was posted at YouTube recently speculating that Barron might be autistic. He is not. The video includes the hashtag ‘StopTheBullying’ but yet the video itself is bullying by making false statements and speculation about a 10-year old boy for the purpose of harassing him and his parents. The online bullying of children, including Barron Trump, should end now.

It’s just a video, for fuck sake, hardly harassment or libel. And the narrative is plainly compassionate, not snide or cruel in any way.

In the US, 1 out of 42 boys is diagnosed with autism. Older fathers are a common characteristic, and Trump was 60 when Barron was born. Many famous fathers of autistic sons are open about the diagnosis, taking pride in their sons’ capabilities and strengths.

But not Donald, and not Melania. No sir.

Personally, I know tons of kids and adults on the spectrum and it’s no big deal. It’s like saying you know people who love to talk or who avoid crowds. It’s like having quirks that most people notice and either enjoy or ignore.

The Trumps want to turn it into a horrifying malady because they’re a couple of cunts. Their reaction and the apology they demanded are insulting and likely to increase uninformed stigma.

Luckily for Barron, his private school offers a special program that offers –

oneonone support to students with learning challenges. Intensive long–term support and remediation is available to a limited number of students in grades K12 for an additional fee.

Maybe that’s why Melania resists taking Barron out of school to move to the White House.

Poor Barron will have to overcome many obstacles as the son of a greedy narcissistic father who has forced him into the public spotlight. It would be nice if he’s allowed to be himself, whoever that turns out to be.

Posted in News, Rants | Tagged autism, Donald Trump, fucking cunts | 7 Comments

Baby Cafe

Posted on December 5, 2016 by Sister Wolf

I have the perfect business concept for anyone who wants to finance it: Baby Cafe!

I think it’s self-explanatory but in case you’re picturing a cafe that serves Babies on Toast or something, no, it will be like a Cat Cafe, only with babies to cuddle instead of cats.

WHY DON’T WE HAVE THESE ALREADY?

Baby Cafes would not only bring joy to baby aficionados, they would provide respite and income to stressed-out new mothers. They would ensure that babies receive the tactile affection so necessary for emotional health. They are a win win win!

I think the employees should wear crisp white vintage nurse uniforms, for an aesthetic that says Clean, Safe, and Professional. Employees would have to be bonded, obviously.

Patrons would first wash their hands before being seated.

The babies would be laying in nice wicker baskets or maybe little fake cabbage patch gardens.

Patrons will get to wrap the babies in little blankies, feed them with little bottles of their mommies’ milk, burp them, and play simple baby games like One Little Piggy Went To Market. The employees will be available for diaper changes.

Listen, I’m not the only person who craves babies. I know plenty other women and girls who go nuts at the sight of a baby. We just want to hold them and smell them and stroke their little heads. We want to pick out the lint between their toes. You know why?

Because we are fucking mammals, that’s why.

Cat Cafes started in Taiwan and spread to Korea and Tokyo before showing up in Europe and the US. At first, I found them intriguing but having seen pictures, I am now pretty disgusted. Cats are destructive predators even though you are so mad I just said that.

Cats prey on endangered birds and were once classified as vermin. They carry a parasite that can lead to schizophrenia in humans. Their tainted feces can be deadly to other animals and we all know they are dangerous to pregnant women and people with suppressed immune systems.

Does this look appetizing?

If you answered yes, just go away now. We’ll never understand each other.

The time is ripe for Baby Cafe. Think of the millennials who love their cold brewed coffee and don’t have time to have children because they’re busy taking selfies and Ubers. They don’t want to own houses or cars or start families because they don’t even like their own families.

But babies are cute and adorable and lower your blood pressure and help to fulfill a biological drive that technology has not yet entirely extinguished.

Babies are everything.

The other day, my husband was playing some boring dirge-like music in the car, and I quietly sang along, repeating the word “babies” through every tune. It was entertaining for one of us, let me tell you.

Okay then. Baby Cafe: Who’s in?

Posted in Art, love | Tagged babies, icky cat stuff | 6 Comments