All the commotion about Balenciaga’s new ad campaign with children is totally misplaced, besides being just stupid.

Where are the complaints about their awful pantaboots worn to death by Kim Kardashian??

Where is the outrage?

These fucking pantaboots are so egregious, and worn by KK, they are an abomination. They probably cost a million dollars, they make your feet look enormous, and how do you wash them? Everything about them is just aggressively awful.

And yet it’s the ads with little kids that has the entire internet going nuts with inflated umbrage and puritanical pearl-clutching. Balenciaga has been forced to issue several apologies for the ads, evidently confirming that they are inappropriate child porn, and vowing to implement a barrage of “safeguards” so this will never, ever happen again.

Where the outraged masses see bondage paraphernalia, I see classic old-school punk.

Look at this stupid bear, for example. It’s punk, not B&D! Jesus Christ, people of Earth. Get a grip.

Sometimes, pornography, or inappropriate images, is in the mind of the beholder. I think the kids in these ads are cute. They are not sexualized, in my opinion, and there is nothing seductive about them. But the furor is off the charts, rife with allusions to pedophilia and child trafficking.

I would like to have seen a fraction of this outrage in response to the children separated from their parents at the southern border. Children in cages weren’t as incendiary as these kids with teddy bears. Instead of aiming some well-deserved wrath at Kim K for her fucking pantaboots, the internet condemned her for being too slow to denounce the brand currently most associated with her. She finally expressed her concern, even though she dresses her young children in heavy gold chains that she hastens to label as “real.” Her tone was mild but dutifully sanctimonious

Not too long ago, I spent time with my friend’s two year old daughter, who was running around their living room naked. The adorable little girl was making hilarious faces at me, and I took a couple of picture with my phone. I showed a picture to a family member, who accused me of imposing child pornography on her. I was genuinely shocked; all I saw was the funny expression, without noticing the body parts. We had a heated argument, that ended up with both of us threatening to ask our therapists to weigh in on it.

Her therapist sided with her, while mine sided with me. I can guess where they’d stand on the stupid Balenciaga controversy. But me and my therapist would be right.

What do you and your therapist think??

A Pat Benatar song came on the car radio the other day and I was instantly reminded of a blog post I wrote years ago about antinatalism.

Antinatalism is the belief that it’s morally wrong to have children. Why is it wrong? Because “life is harm” and because the unborn is unable to give consent.

On the face of it, this argument is just nuts. I mean, it’s unconscious knowledge that this is nuts. By unconscious knowledge, I mean instinctual knowledge. We may also find it self-evident that a person who believes that “life is harm” is a deeply unhappy person.

But in trying to refresh my memory on the lunacy of antinatalism, I came across an essay that tries to refute the idea that antinatalism is a philosophy borne of depression. Yeah, well, some depressed people may see things more realistically than an incurable optimist, but it’s inherent in the illness to see the world in distorted ways that only therapy or meds can modify. (The most well-known proponent of antinatalism is a guy who insists on strict privacy about his private life so that we can’t extrapolate anything from his history or psychological make-up. Hint: He is miserable.)

Anyway, Pat Benatar caused me to go back and read the post from 2008, and just as I recall, the comments are hilarious. Comment threads like these have kept me writing here for a million years, and while they don’t occur very often, they are pure joy. I hope you will go read that post and then laugh your heads off at the comments.

And I hope you will be moved to comment here, so we can laugh some more.

I already knew that people are nuts, but spending some time in Facebook groups this week has revealed a whole new level of nuts. Maybe it’s The New Nuts. Group members are like piranha, waiting for a newbie to make a comment so they can perform a feeding frenzy.

A few years ago, my sister told me about joining an Opera group on Facebook. According to her, she made an innocent comment, and everyone pounced on her. She was shaken by the experience, because she has an extensive knowledge of opera. I didn’t understand why this happened until now.

Why do FB groups propagate this crazy behavior? Are the people who join groups already crazy? Or does being a group member generate deranged tribal behavior?

I wondered if groups centered on the arts attract irritable snobs. But a friend told me her Laundry Tips group was nuts too. This is kind of exciting, actually, and tempts me to join a million groups, to observe how petty and hostile they are.

I learned this shit the hard way by commenting in a group called “Victorian Images”. I rarely look at it but I did yesterday. There was a sepia photo of a stiff little child standing on a chair, as her mother knelt at her side. Stupidly, I commented that it looked like a postmortem photo. It seemed obvious, in fact, that it was a postmortem photo.

Before I knew it, everyone commented on my ignorance, some angry, some mocking. It was incredible. It was death by a thousand cuts. One person exclaimed that I wouldn’t be “satisfied unless there was a Dead Victorian Baby”. I suggested that they were acting nuts, and conceded that I might have been wrong.

So I posted the image on my own page, and got a unanimous vote that the baby was dead. So I went back to the group and said the baby was totally fucking dead, quoting Monty Python, etc etc.

Now, everyone knows that neighborhood groups are contentious, except for their hatred of the homeless, but I just had no idea about other groups. Why don’t these nutcases take their fury to Twitter, where the action is? Are they pussies, only brave enough to vent in a private FB group?

While I have a deep disregard for trolls, I’ve decided to become one on Facebook. Everyone hates me anyway so why not? At least I can have some fun. I read a thing about losing weight in my Sisters AARP newsletter for Black women. It asked me to list ten things that made me feel good, besides eating. TEN, are they kidding? I could only think of 4. You try it.

Well, now I can add trolling to my list, for a total of five things. Yay, me.

There are now an increasing number of stances you can take about being forced to stay home. The stances may be infinite for all I know, but let’s review the ones getting the most play.

There’s the Gratitude stance, which I personally find horrifying. This one is popular on Instagram, often with a stupid Buddhist-style image of a sunset and a silhouette of someone doing a yoga pose. It’s a sanctimonious sermon on how this pandemic can teach us to use the planet more gently, how we now have the opportunity to rethink our selfish ways, blah blah blah. It’s an awful slap in the face to anyone who is actually suffering. I refuse to be grateful for a pandemic. Fuck that idea and the horse it rode in on.

Then there’s the Scolding stance, another dreadful position that tries to make you feel bad for spending hours watching Netflix or staring at your phone. This one blames you for losing touch with your Inner Life and your creativity. What’s wrong with you! it gripes, You brainwashed consumer! Have you lost the ability to sit in a room and just be present? Please. As if.

Then there’s the Silver Lining stance. This is the one where you finally have the time to learn a new language, to read War and Peace, to finish that screenplay, to rearrange your living room, try out new recipes and to host zany get-togethers with your girlfriends on Zoom. It’s fun being home with free time! Let’s get busy!

There is also the Existential stance, and that’s the one I’ve chose for now, although it’s more accurate to say it’s chosen me. This is the one where you face down your dread, the continual dread of being alive but close to death. It’s the one where you realize your existence can be reduced to almost nothing, just eating and sleeping with some time-wasting stuff in between. You wonder why you bought all those clothes, all those stupid eye pencils and shoes and trinkets. Life is only about having someone to talk to, to hold you, and a decent bed to crawl into. Life is about waiting for something to happen but hoping it won’t be something awful or unbearable.

However, the last couple of weeks have brought some unexpectedly wonderful moments. I watched Jeopardy for the first time in probably twenty years, and one of the categories was “Otters.” I forgot the question, but it led to the revelation that otters hold hands while they sleep. This is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, and sure enough when I googled it, I found loads of pictures. I’m so glad to have discovered this, I can’t overstate the joy it has given me.

Also, in the same episode of Jeopardy, I was able to shout out a few questions before anyone hit the buzzer, a momentous burst of feeling intelligent that I haven’t experienced in ages. It reminded me of my mother, dying of cancer and watching Jeopardy in bed, crying out the word “Loyola!” in a weak but authoritative voice, and being correct.

As time passes, my stance may change. I wonder if I’m the only one who is mentally writing a will? In California, a handwritten will with your signature is legal and binding. I’ve already promised my tiger claw jewelry to my friend Marya and my footwear will go to Simone. Anyone want anything else? Now’s the time to speak up!

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.

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!

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?

How exciting is it that Don Jr.’s wife Vanessa has filed for divorce??

“I love it.”

First, we learned that he treated Vanessa “like a second-class citizen,” keeping her on a restrictive budget. Now we learn that Junior had an affair with a contestant from The Celebrity Apprentice!

While Vanessa was pregnant with their third child, Don Jr. broke the news that he was leaving her for Aubrey O’Day, some bimbo that I don’t want to have to Google because that’s how excited I am.

I love how these Trump men can’t tell TV from reality, and I super-love how they run amok when their wives get pregnant.

According to Page Six (which has proven to be on the money where celebrity dirt is concerned) Donald Sr.  learned about Jr.’s romance and told him to knock it off. Like the brainless pipsqueak he is, Jr. obeyed. And on election night 2016, Aubrey tweeted ruefully that the story she never told was “now worth millions.”

Who should we feel sorry for? Vanessa? But why would she marry a Trump? Back in the day, she is reported to have been a real slut, I mean “gangsta.” She must have thought the name Trump was a step up. Maybe her modeling career was stalled. I don’t want to feel sorry for her, do you? She’ll get a great book deal, if she can break her prenup.

Let’s not feel sorry for this Aubrey person. Not with that hair.

Don Jr. was famously slapped around by his dad, even as a college student, so maybe he deserves some compassion. But wait, he killed all those beautiful tigers, so no. Fuck him.

Why can’t the Trump men sleep with their pregnant wives? Is that too personal a question? I guess they find pregnant women disgusting. That is truly the pot calling the kettle disgusting, isn’t it?

Don Jr. is a real piece of work. His idiotic tweets sound like fun, especially when he flirts with models by talking about bacon.

He meant “Chanel.”

Remember when people thought Don Jr. was a great spokesperson for his dad, during the campaign? Was everyone hypnotized? He is the second dumbest person in the world.

How soon can Ivanka’s marriage blow up? Hurry it up, Ivanka! I am locked and loaded.

Today, it’s “narcissist.” People throw this term around like it’s fairy dust, meant to undermine or discredit anyone you don’t like. In fact, only around 1% of people are narcissists in the clinical sense.

To some degree, narcissistic traits are healthy and useful. But the label Narcissist should be applied with care, unless you want words to stop having meaning, in which case I hope you’re good at interpretive dance. I think it’s safe to say that Trump is a narcissist, and maybe my dad, who wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t mirror his sense of his own wonderfulness.

Some poor children who hate their mommies are still writing to me, to offer their diagnosis of my narcissism. Again, please study your DSM. I am profoundly depressed, with some PTSD. Got it? Self-help culture has confused a whole bunch of fragile, angry Adult Children. Some of them don’t even understand satire. It’s probably Mommy’s fault.

Anyway! On SNL the other night, Pete Davidson did a sketch about depression, and his recent diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. If you thought he was joking, he was, but not about his disorder. He is not ashamed of his diagnosis, and he can see the funny side of suffering. He is going to help remove the stigma of mental illness, and god bless him.

Borderline Personality Disorder is a tough one. It’s core conflict is “I Hate you, Don’t Leave Me,” the title of a really good book on the subject. People who tell you about their psychotic ex will often accuse them of being Borderlines. What they usually mean is that the ex dumped them abruptly without explanation and they are fucking furious as well as hurt and baffled.

I love abnormal psychology! I have shelves of books on various disorders, including The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat, of course, and some good ones on OCD. OCD is particularly poignant, I think. Especially the kind where you think you ran over someone in your car and have to keep driving back to check. Personally, I have no OCD traits but don’t worry, I have plenty of trouble without them.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing is kind of a fatuous cliche but it applies pretty well to psychology. How many times have you yelled “You’re projecting!” during an argument? Or what about “control-freak?” If you’re mean, you probably like to accuse people of being “too sensitive!”

Those of us who live with mental illness are keenly aware, for the most part, of our challenges. If you want to call us names, just stick with “nuts” unless you know what you’re talking about.

And here’s something exciting: I’ve discovered a brand new disorder that might explain my entire life!!! I have to discuss it with my psychiatrist before I announce it, but as awful as it is, I’m prepared to joke about it. Gallows humor is not only my brand, it’s my life force. I don’t mean this in a narcissistic way – I’M JUST SAYING.

Thoughts, delusions or rationalizations, anyone?

I have been struggling with inertia, feelings of hopelessness, and general apathy. Thanksgiving made me aware of my resistance to the whole idea of being thankful.

Why do we have to be thankful on demand? Why can’t we just wallow in bitterness and despair?

My Thanksgiving turned out to be a happy one, by the grace of friends who cook and play guitar. I even made a festive centerpiece. But three days later, I’m still coming across lists of Things To Be Thankful For. I just found one with a full 100 things that some idiot or group of idiots managed to compile.

Number 1 is :

Your health- because it’s one thing that you should never take for granted.

Really? I thought health was the thing you turn to when you can’t think of any other reason to be grateful, a last resort and kind of a bitter pill. “At least you’ve got your health.”

Number 4 is “scented candles”. Hahahaha! Jesus. In my world, that would come right after paved roads.

“Friends” come in at Number 15. Oh well.

Number 32 is “Free Shipping.” LOL!  Actually, free shipping is a good one, I’m going to make it number 10 in my personal hierarchy of gratitude.

Number 65 is:

A cup of really good coffee.

Clearly these philistines know nothing about coffee.

Number 85 = Hummus. Whereas “Art” is Number 91.

I have to admit this list gave me some good laughs, so I need to put “stupid lists” in my top ten. Let me change my mind about the Thankfulness thing and offer a list of my own. I hope it’s clear that I’m making all this up as I write, okay?

1. Love
2. Art
3. Music
4. Coffee
5. Chocolate
6. Dogs
7. ???
8. ???
9. Stupid lists
10. Free shipping.

Anyone want to share their own top ten? Or to fill in my seven and eight?