Don’t be mad at me for being consumed with Amber and Johnny; Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #JusticForJohnny have been viewed 8.3 billion times! Americans have googled Amber Heard four times more than google searches for abortion or the Supreme Court.

It could be serving as a needed escape from the reality of our politics, Covid, inflation, and bla bla bla. But I think it’s just a universal drama that most of us can relate to. Most of us have had at least one destructive relationship under out belts. Most of us have wanted to have sex with Johnny Depp at one time or another. Most of us love courtroom conflicts. And most of us pride ourselves on our ability to spot a liar.

And Amber is lying her head off, right??

Yesterday I read a preachy essay about how the backlash against Amber is misogynistic. There are a few of these essays making the rounds. If you don’t believe Amber Heard, you are dooming abuse victims to silence or worse.

But I disagree. I think it’s because this particular woman seems so awful and nuts. My favorite quote of all time is the former friend who described her as a sociopathic show pony. Try saying it out loud. It’s just a wonderful phrase! I could not love it more. And I feel it is apt, after watching her antics in court. The continual head bobbing and barrage of theatrical expressions are truly bonkers.

Further, I’ve decided that her “lip cut” is a cold sore, and her bruises are the result of botox injections. Don’t ask me about my research or you’ll know how immersed I am in this crap.

If you listen to their taped arguments – and who tapes arguments besides my sister??- you can hear her goading him, using weird baby voices or laughing demonically. Johnny seems to maintain a tired and pissed off tone, even though his acting skills are a million times superior, while she tries everything under the sun to manipulate him.

I don’t believe the bottle incident because whose pum pum can accommodate a fucking whiskey bottle for fucksake? Without having to go to the hospital for surgery afterwards? Her crazy email after this pretend incident says she wants to rip him apart and devour him. Which cannot follow a rape by a whiskey bottle, in my world or anyone else’s.

And also, what about her hairdos? Jesus Christ with those hairdos. The farm-girl braiding, the fluffy loose buns, the fake disheveledness. I’ll admit I’m jealous of her tailored designer suits and the way she buttons her shirt collars. But the fucking water bottle…no.

Her intake of mushrooms and MDMA do not reflect the anti-drug stance she insists on having, and her use of Elon Musk suggests a fetish for powerful men. There is nothing sympathetic about this woman, no matter how you regard Johnny Depp. I kind of want to kick her myself.

Worst of all is her flagrant lie about donating the $7 million divorce settlement, which I knew was a lie back when she first announced it. Because I can spot a liar a mile off. It is one of my superpowers, like finding thrift store treasures and critiquing bad writing.

Okay then. Thoughts?

It occurred to me that SiteLock is some kind of scam, which is odd, because Bluehost is a widely used and seemingly legit hosting service.

When I googled ‘SiteLock reviews,’ I discovered an impassioned community of SiteLock victims, who were justifiably furious. Some complained about SiteLock harassing them with phone-calls. Some described the difficulty of cancelling the service, and being told they needed to speak to a cancellation agent.

Some complained that in trying to remove malware, SiteLock completely destroyed their websites beyond repair. No one could get their money back.

Some even suggested that SiteLock planted the malware just to charge for removing it!

So now I’m fuming. I call SiteLock and someone says to call back during business hours. I call Bluehost and ask them to cancel the service, since they set it up in the first place. No, only SiteLock can cancel the service.

In the morning, Rochelle at Sitelock explains that only Bluehost can cancel the account, since they made the $500 charge on my credit card. She seems genuinely apologetic.

Rochelle offers to get Bluehost on the phone, and to stay on the call with me.

It is then I meet Steven, in billing at Bluehost. He sounds young, dumbish, and bored. He is the definition of the word sullen. Steven reports that he is unable to ‘terminate the service until it expires in January.’ He repeats this with the exact same inflection at least 20 times. I keep saying, ‘Rochelle, can you hear this?’

Steven puts us on hold to speak to a ‘supervisor.’ Rochelle has gone to look at my blog and we start chatting about Prince. She loves him too.

Steven returns to the call and says in the deadened tone of an executioner, “I can’t cancel the service. It will end when it expires.”

Now I scream, “WHO CAN CANCEL IT, GOD?” Steven is silent. I repeat, “Are you saying only god can cancel it, or that He can’t cancel it either? Are you fucking crazy?” I add, “I’m not asking for my money back, just to cancel the fucking service!” I’m getting sweaty. I’ve lost control.

Steven leaves the call again and returns. “I am now able to cancel your service, ma’am. I can send you an email to confirm this has been done.”

Rochelle gives me her contact information so I can confirm with her later. She genuinely wants me to be happy.

I will be happy when Steven is broke, hungry, cold, alone, and desperate, while some little piece of shit on the phone tells him, “I can’t cancel your service. It will end when it expires in January.”

Once you are traumatized, you are vulnerable to triggers. And triggers are everywhere.

Jane Birkin’s daughter, Kate Barry, jumped from her fourth story window last week. I couldn’t stop thinking about her despair, and how fame and talent don’t protect families from depression or suicide.

Then, on Homeland, they executed the poor hero, making us watch as the life drained out of his face.

When I’m triggered enough, my mind reverts to familiar paths that lead nowhere. Often, it settles on Tarzana Treatment Center, a lucrative rehab business whose $45 million budget is largely funded via contracts with Los Angeles County.

I took my son to TTC when he relapsed during a period of hard-earned sobriety. They made a big fuss about payment and made a copy of my credit card. They refused to let the family inside the building. After a few days, I started receiving calls from a guy named Del, in the financial department. He said they needed more money, even though they were a Blue Cross provider and had accepted our son’s insurance.

Del’s harassing phone-calls brought me to tears but he persisted. He threatened to kick Max out instead of keeping him for the agreed 30 days. I came up with $1,000 and then another $1,100. Del kept calling and demanding money. He said the rehab cost $500 a day. Meanwhile, Max called me, sounding panicky; he shared his room with a bunch of convicts who played cards all night, depriving him of sleep. He was cold but I wan’t allowed to bring him a blanket.

After around 12 days, a woman called me and said she was a therapist at TTC. She told me that my son was being discharged for lack of sufficient funds, but that she had convinced them to let him stay until morning.

In the morning, Max’s dad picked him up from TTC. He was still in withdrawal from klonopin. At dawn the next morning, he jumped off a cliff.

So I think about Del. I sometimes call his extension at TTC but I always get his recorded message. A couple of days ago, I called and he answered.

I told him who I was, and told him what happened after he kicked out my son. He stammered that he was sorry for my loss but quickly regrouped. He denied calling me to demand money and I laughed maniacally. WHAT?!, I said, Are you serious? You called me a million times! You made me cry!

No, he said firmly, this never happened and couldn’t have happened. They never discharge anyone for lack of money. Never. He has worked there for 18 years and it has never happened. Furthermore, it wasn’t his call. It was someone else’s.

I asked whose call it was and after some arguing, he gave me a fake name with a fake extension number.

Now, if  you are still reading this, you can understand my distress. I’m going to call it distress because rage doesn’t cover it. Why didn’t that cunt just apologize and say it was a terrible unforeseen consequence, one that he regretted?

I don’t want to hear “Just let it go.” I want to hear useful ideas about how to proceed.

Intermezzo was a movie starring Ingrid Bergman, and of course it’s a musical term. Now it’s also a drug for people who wake up in the middle of the night. I’ve seen ads for Intermezzo at least ten times tonight while watching TV. In the last week, I must have seen the ad 100 times. I almost know the side effects by heart. (In depressed patients, there is a risk of suicide. Not suicidal ideation, but suicide.)

You might also drive, eat or engage in “other activities” while not fully awake, without remembering the event the next day. Other abnormal behaviors include aggression, confusion, hallucinations and agitation. Common side effects are headaches, nausea and fatigue.

Is it worth all this shit for a few hours of drugged sleep? It is right to market Intermezzo as a brand new drug when it’s just Ambien at a lower dose?  Why this deluge of  TV commercials? I can answer the last question:

“Facing lower-than-expected demand for sleep drug Intermezzo, Purdue Pharma and Transcept Pharmaceuticals are broadening the commercial strategy to include DTC and a larger selling force.

Intermezzo is a sublingual version of Sanofi’s blockbuster insomnia pill Ambien (zolpidem). But the new formulation, approved in November 2011 and introduced earlier this year, has had a lethargic launch. Hence, the firms are rolling out a $29-million DTC ad campaign and, for the first time, tapping into Purdue’s analgesics sales force of 525 reps to call on PCPs and retail pharmacies. Another 90 contract reps will detail specialists.

“There are a few ads for Lunesta out there, but the market has been fairly quiet,” said Transcept president/CEO Glenn Oclassen on a conference call this morning. “So we get to take fullest possible advantage of that and believe this level of expenditure will be sufficient to get the impact being sought.” (more here)

Oh no, the ad is playing again RIGHT NOW! Unbelievable.  I won’t be happy about this until the lawsuits start rolling in.

This is a story of unmitigated fuckery, replete with cunts, bit I will focus on Robert Kennedy Jr as the Cunt in Charge, so to speak.

When his wife Mary hung herself last month, it was a tragic event that naturally shocked the public and was covered by the press with all due sensitivity. The Kennedy’s were in the middle of a difficult divorce and one could infer that Mary Kennedy suffered from depression.

But apparently,  RFK Jr couldn’t take the rumors that it was his womanizing and financial bullying that led Mary to  despair.

Now, his private affidavit in the divorce procedings, documenting his accusations against Mary and his reasons for wanting to restrict her access to the children, has been “leaked!”

And Newsweek (i.e. Tina Brown) has employed “Kennedy historian” Laurence Leamer to write a sordid piece on Mary Kennedy’s “Tragic Last Days,” based on the leaked affidavit and some out-of-context quotes. The Newsweek piece cites a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, which Mary’s family flatly denies, and RFK’s accounts of being punched by his wife, “a trained boxer.” He contends that he was so frightened of her on one occasion that he jumped out a second-story window to escape her blows.

As if. But the story is so much worse. And Mary’s family says, in part:

The scurrilous affidavit, which is the entire basis for the Newsweek article, was written by Bobby Kennedy as part of a contentious custody battle and was nothing more than a brutal psychological weapon in the divorce case. The affidavit, which Mary repudiated at the time, is full of vindictive lies. This latest piling on is proof perfect of the unbelievable emotional and psychological abuse that Mary endured during the last years of her life, and now in death. The false claim that Mary suffered from BPD is also an insult to those who do struggle with this serious mental illness.

Meanwhile, no one denies that RFK was rampantly unfaithful throughout his marriage, including a long affair with Cheryl Hines, the actress who plays Larry David’s wife on Curb Your Enthusiasm. (I don’t know why this fact bothers me but it does.)

Fuck RFK Jr and his funny voice. Fuck him for “leaking” his sealed affidavit. He’s just another Kennedy who thinks he can use his name and his money to cover up his bad behavior. Fuck Tina Brown for stooping so low to publish this shit. Fuck Laurence Leamer for making a career out of Kennedy hagiography. Fuck the Kennedy clan for refusing to let Mary’s family take custody of her body.

And fuck the housekeeper, on RFK Jr’s payroll, who says that her husband bought Mary some rope because “she said she needed it.” This after stating that Mary was always threatening suicide.

Poor Mary! May she be be somewhere peaceful, and free of the Kennedys, for all eternity.

“Rick Perry is like George Bush without the ethics or intelligence”   – Jim Hightower

Michelle Bachman poses with her children and her gay homophobic husband. Who wouldn’t want these fine Christians in the White House?

And here are Mrs. Palin’s toenails as she relaunches her “family vacation”.

Since Mitt Romney is already toast, we can look forward to a nasty competition over which candidate is the most Christian, plain speakin’, and determined to cut social security and social services to the American People who are presumably longing for fewer regulations of aviation standards, air quality, and whatnot.

It’s the stupidity and the hate-mongering that make me gag. I’ve given up on waiting for Obama to live up to his campaign promises.   But seeing Rick Perry morph into a g’ droppin’ , Bushian fake cowboy makin’ crazy charges about treason…it’s going to be enraging.

I mean, enragin’.

Here is Mrs. Palin, just days after her resignation, preparing a baby for human sacrifice.   Mrs. P is marking the spot where the giddy mother will cut the heart out for the Unholy Offering.

Oh fine.   Maybe I’m just hallucinating. Maybe it’s perfectly normal to autograph a baby while its head hangs upside down and someone digs their nails into its arm to hold it still.

But after refreshing my memory with some blogs that still hope to uncover the truth about Trig’s birth, I have to wonder if I’m the only one with this theory: Mrs. Palin was hoping to lose her baby, but despite her best efforts, he survived.

Wait! Hear me out!

Le’s say you were a bible-spouting “pro-life” Christian who was genuinely opposed to abortion under any circumstances. Then, you find yourself pregnant at 43, carrying a baby with Down Syndrome. You already have 4 kids, two who are clearly on the road to big trouble. You are pursuing a political career and it’s really taking off.

What can you do? You could hide your pregnancy, even from your children and your staff. Maybe somehow God will step in and let you have a miscarriage.

When God doesn’t jump in, you stay busy, jogging and acting like you’re not pregnant. You don’t tell your kids or your staff. Maybe you can still miscarry your unexpected and unwanted baby.

Finally, as luck would have it, your water breaks while you’re giving a speech in Texas. Great! You decide to fly back to Alaska, where someone can help you out, like your discreet private doctor. When your plane lands, shit, the baby still seems okay. So you drive to Wasilla, taking 5 more hours, still hoping to lose the baby.

In the end, your baby is born healthy, even though he is premature. What can you do except send everybody a funny letter about your very special baby, and sign it: “Trig’s Creator, Your Heavenly Father.”