The schlonging finally got me.

It’s just too much. The schlonging and the taunt about Hillary Clinton going to the bathroom. The Wall Street Journal calls it ‘potty talk.’

Potty Talk, from a Presidential candidate???

How can we take this, every day, more and more, and still feel like decent human beings? Or even semi-decent?

Every politician and news person who doesn’t object to this shit is complicit somehow.

They need to stand up as one and say, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU MORON!”

The immigrant hating, woman fearing, lying, egotistical stupidity is part of it but not all.

It’s like there’s a hidden factor that elevates Donald Trump from a standard cunt to an actual monster.

What is it, and is it the ‘secret’ to his appeal?

I don’t think his appeal is a mystery actually, it’s just the number of Americans who respond to infantile stupidity that comes as a surprise to the rest of us. We’d like to think that racist, hate-filled, drooling cretins are a small minority, but no. Trump is like a mirror of their own ignorance and repulsiveness, and they are mesmerized by the reflection.

The schlonging sent me looking for Yiddish words to throw back at him but nothing seems adequate to describe how deeply objectionable this cunt is.

‘Traif’ is the best I could come up with, but now I’ve discovered ‘vyzoso,’ a Yiddish word that means both idiot and penis!

If you know a better word, in any language, please, let’s hear it.

J Lo is sorry about going to Turkmenistan to sing for its dictator, President Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov. Her “people” had “vetted” the event, but they missed the part about its human rights record.

All you have to do is google ‘Turkmenistan human rights” to learn that it is one of the world’s most repressive countries. Media and religious freedoms are subject to draconian restrictions. Authorities use imprisonment and torture for political retaliation and to suppress dissent.

You can see why J Lo might want to sing happy birthday to President Berdymukhamedov; he looks so nice! She’s not a mind-reader, you know.  And neither is her choreographer, who tweeted during the event: “I wonder where all my Turkmenistan followers are!? Hit me up!” How could he possibly have known that twitter is blocked in Turkmenistan??

Anyway, please accept Jennifer’s apology, especially as she has pointed out that she was hired for the gig by the China National Petroleum Corporation. They’re nice, right? Because China is nice and so are gas, oil and chemicals.

‘Lopez obviously has the right to earn a living performing for the dictator of her choice,” says Human Rights Foundation president Thor Halvorssen.  You can’t argue with that. Even though she’s so obviously a moron and a fucking cunt.

I am truly blessed in the sister department. One of my sisters who lives in a Scandinavian country and who I will call “Clinique,” posted this on facebook:

[My daughter’s school-class is taking a trip to Poland and] will be visiting Auschwitz concentration camps. It should be an amazing, informative, and emotional trip.

I can’t even describe my reaction to this.

But I’ll focus on the word usage. When she writes ‘Auschwitz concentration camps’ does she mean, as opposed to the Auschwitz Bar and Grill or the Auschwitz Shopping Center?

Meanwhile,Tennis just sent a list of her services to the trust, which included a charge of $600 to prepare six checks.

Does everyone know about “Fifty Shades of Grey?” It’s a wildly popular new novel that women are reading discreetly and openly, according to their relative shame or bravado about enjoying middlebrow porn.

I had no idea what the story was about but now I know there’s a sadomasochist relationship at its center. Big deal. Haven’t these women read The Story of O or Justine? The problem for me is that it’s being called “Mommy Porn,” which is condescending, like Mom Jeans.

The other problem is the bad writing. It kills me that people will pay money for bad writing. Not just bad, but hilariously bad. Here are some quotes I found:

“Trepidation lances through me.”

“‘So I brought you here,” he said phlegmatically.

Hahahahahahaha! And yet some awful woman is making a fortune because she guessed that there was a huge audience for a dopey, safely perky adventure in bondage and discipline.   I’m mad I didn’t think of it.

Now that the book is a certified phenomenon, one will be called upon to take a position. If you condemn it, you’ll be scolded for being a prude or an elitist. If you read it and enjoy it, you’ll be dismissed as a sex-starved Mommy or a moron. Or wait, maybe you’ll be congratulated for being modern and having a strong libido!

I don’t mind the idea of dominance and submission in sex. I’m all for it. But why does it have to involve a billionaire with “unruly hair” and a heroine who says stuff like:  “I revel in his possession, his lust slaking mine.”

No no no no, you fucking idiot! “Slake” means to lesson the force of, to assuage. You mean the  opposite!

Can anyone give us a firsthand report on this book? Thoughts or arguments?

“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’.

All my devoted trolls are demanding that I go away and mourn. But the problem is, there’s no way to implement this. Mourning isn’t a thing you do in a black dress. Maybe they want me to spend all day at a cemetery. But it doesn’t matter where I am, it’s all the same barren place, a place I’d rather not be.

I am going through the motions, because that’s all I know how to do. I could take to my bed and never get up again. I’m not ruling that out. It just seems unfair to my family. I don’t know how to have a nervous breakdown or I’d gladly have one.

I don’t want to “recover” because mothers who bounce back after the death of a child seem despicable. How could anyone “move forward” after this? What would be the point?

I don’t know what to do besides cry or distract myself.   I’m still waiting for him to come back. When he does, I’ll try not to scold him for putting us through this. Meanwhile, I have to pick out a grave marker and then try to pay for it.

I started blogging as a way to express myself. Now, it’s a way to escape myself.

If one more moron whines about my “negativity” or complains that I “hate on” people, I’m going to lose my fucking temper. You can’t hate “on” people. But I might have to learn how.

A new shop is coming to one of my favorite malls, called Intimacy. It’s a place where “experts” will help you select a bra, because even at your age, YOU DON”T KNOW YOUR OWN BRA SIZE.

That’s right, you are too stupid to choose your own bra. Oprah changed the world overnight by devoting a whole show to this phenomenon.   I saw it at 3 in the morning, and I’ll never forget how Oprah asked one woman if she could feel her boobs.   Anyway, we all learned that we were wrong about our chest measurements, and need to size down on chest size but UP on cup size. Okay, done!

But no, we’re just total fucking morons. Luckily Intimacy is here to help.

“Our bra fitters are experienced style and fit gurus. They’re passionate about uplifting women at all stages of life.   Trained in the {Intimacy}holistic   bra-fit process, they can help you achieve the comfort, fit and shape you desire.”

But I don’t know if I want a passionate fit guru to assess my boobs.   That’s a little too personal. But wait!

“You don’t have to feel shy or embarrassed during an {Intimacy} Bra Fitting. We take utmost care to protect your privacy and to honor your feelings.”

Eeeoow! Now I REALLY don’t want this service, unless the fitters are eunuchs or doctors.   Furthermore, you need to make an appointment, although walk-ins are welcome as long as you’re willing to wait up to 2 hours for your fitting.

Go check out the website. It’s fun to take their fit quiz, where they magically calculate your REAL bra size, which in my case turns out to be a 32-C. As if! Flattery won’t get me in there to wait two hours to get felt up by a eunuch.

This week’s award will have to be shared by the two authors of BleachBlack, a style blog that is rife with exclamations of fuck,   sick, dude, stoked, rad, killer, major, kickass, um, and all the other blogese we have come to expect from 20-something women who act like naughty schoolgirls.

Bleach and Black created a green nail polish called “Dickweed,” and that was just silly.

Now, they’ve come up with a new color called “Jizz,” a pearly-white that is modeled above by their pal Roomy, whom they slavishly mention at every opportunity.

Here’s the problem. It’s one thing to be a stupid would-be whore who manages to make money by posting photos of consumer goods and videos   with the caption “How amazing is this!” or “Hedi Slimane is a Genius!” It’s another thing to market nail polish called Jizz to their audience of clueless fashion girls.

Jizz? Dude. Is that like the coolest, funniest name for white nail polish, like ever?

I wouldn’t like to have to explain to my kids what jizz means. The whole idea is just sad. Why not spunk or smegma? I don’t like people who use the word jizz. They should use the word “come” but they don’t need to use it for nail polish. I think that in recent years, young girls have been giving out blowjobs with their phone numbers; the act has been downgraded from one of love and intimacy to a cheap party favor.

Nail polish called Jizz is an extention of that trend. It’s also a reminder of how the vernacular of porn has entered the everyday consciousness of the masses.

I resent BleachBlack for blighting my life with their lowbrow witlessness. Why did god make them? I hope you will join me in congratulating them for achieving the coveted Cunt of the Week  award!

On the subject of Terry Richardson, here is blogger ‘Gnarlitude Jen’:

“If someone is uncomfortable in any situation, they have the fucking choice to say NO.
Sorry but this is a choice those models made. If he got naked and they weren’t having it, walk the fuck out. Otherwise, don’t complain about him later when you chose to be there. If your agency drops you because you didn’t want to suck him off, well then that’s that. Don’t give me none of this pussy shit. So now everyone reads all these ‘terrible stories and omg he’s such a bad guy’. Has no one seen his photos before? What’d they think was gonna happen? All good clean fun and maybe some prayer circle after?
So if a model gives him a hand job, did he force his dick in their hand? If they’re that hungry for fame that they’re willing to do whatever to get it, including sucking him off and then whining all over about it later then fuck them.”

First of all, she is fat, let’s just admit it. I saw her on TV with David Letterman, recalling how hurt she was when the tabloids called her “fat”.   Then she talked about her ex-boyfriends, and her new reality show.

Have you ever seen someone on TV who is so stupid that you want to cover your eyes? This is the true horror of Jessica Simpson. She brays loudly and inappropriately after making awkward jokes, all the time being fat. I had to turn away out of common decency.

Now I find that she’s involved with Billy Corgan, who wrote a song for her new show. I know how much everyone hates Billy Corgan but I love him!   Loved him, I guess. Why does he want Jessica Simpson?! Is it because she’s “sexual napalm?” Isn’t napalm a bad thing? And what if he wants a coherent conversation after the napalm?

I’m just depressed about the whole thing. And don’t tell me she’s not fat. She’s not fat like her awful sister didn’t have a nose job.