Everything is horrible and more horrible by the minute. We’re not going to be ready for the next outrage unless we stop and take a breath. Some may want to stop and smell the roses, but I prefer a bracing poke in the eye … like these pumps from Jimmy Choo.

Remember when the brand was the epitome of glamor and wealth? Ew!

How much stupider could a shoe be? From this angle, it looks like you’re walking in a box.

Here, it just looks l;like you stepped in black toilet paper. If anyone complains, you can just scream, “THESE ARE FUCKING BOWS, OK, AND THEY COST $745, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Jimmy Choo is not just a one-trick pony. Check out these new boots:

This is a collaboration with Off-White, a brand that thinks you’ll spend anything for a sweatshirt. I love the look of your stockings falling down around your boots! So clever.

They remind me of the time I was a flower girl at a wedding, wearing my very first pair of stockings, and no one told me that you needed a garter belt to hold them up. Every step down the aisle was excruciating. Like these boots. It was humiliating, but at least I wasn’t out $1,795.

From the rear, you can really appreciate the heel. Are they going for a Gaudi mosaic tribute or just a Disney princess thing?

A textured, silvery block heel encrusted with sparkling crystals in shades of blue brings a feminine update to a square-toed loafer finished with genuine shearling tassels.

Uh-oh. I would call this green, not shades of blue. Anyone?  Funnily enough, the whole thing looks different when it’s coming straight at you.

Now it’s a smiling shoe making a funny face! Adorable. $1,100 

Remember, when the world is about to blow up or just fall apart, there is always footwear and denim to take the edge off.

I’ve noticed a new trend in shoes, and it’s perfect for these maddening times. Heels that make walking dangerous if not impossible are kind of Trumpian somehow. Stupid, irrational, and mean-spirited….they are everything but fat and psychotic, right??

The Saint Laurent pumps above are a good case in point. Notice that even though the brand has dropped the Yves from its company name, they’re using it for these heels. Like Trump, they’re flip-flopping on their stated ideals. How dumb would you need to be to buy these shoes?

What about these elephant heels? Why? Just tell me why. Stupid and awful JUST BECAUSE! No one needs to walk on an  elephant, just like no one needs to marry a Slovenian prostitute. To anyone who does either, I remind you that you get what you pay for.

This design isn’t new, but we haven’t had to see it in a while. I remember that Daphne Guinness knew how to walk in shoes like this. But I still don’t get it. Do you have to hop? Is there a thrill in feeling unstable? Again, notice the Trump metaphor.

All roads lead to Trump, I’m afraid. And by afraid, I mean afraid.

I am so happy to be contributing to the MIISTA Blog!  They are a great a company whose shoes and values I fully endorse. Go and see. I have written about men in dresses, social media hate mobs, and that venomous piece of shit Donald Trump.

I am not happy to all of a sudden find I have carpal tunnel syndrome. What the fuck?! I don’t want or need new problems. There should be a limit. Last time I went to my doctor, she gave me a print-out that included a part called Current Problems. It was a list of 16 things, starting with Depression and ending with “Marijuana use.” EXCUSE ME, but marijuana use isn’t a problem so make that 15 things please.

Now for ugly, did you know that blogger and influencer Sea of Shoes is getting married?!? That’s right, she is all grown up and ready to tie the knot with some older metrosexual food blogger! It’s sure to be a festive occasion filled with Dallas socialites and the elite intelligentsia who once showered me with comments about the state of my vagina!

I look forward to covering the event to the best of my abilities, even though the bride to be blocked me on Twitter for correcting her grammar. But I understand. I have to block Nazis and republicans all the time.

Speaking of Twitter, here is my favorite user, who sparks joy like Marie Kondo has probably never experienced.

What the fucking fuck?!

This is one of those times I can’t even begin to can’t even.

Cowboys? Bondage? Turducken? What’s going on here? I want my mommy!

TOM FORD’s boots grounded the debut look on the label’s Fall ’16 runway. Made from supple leather with a stretchy sock-like upper, they have a trio of tonal-brown and black buckled straps and are set on a sleek, sculptural heel. Team yours with midi skirts and cropped tailoring.

Oh please. At $2,450, I could only team them with a lobotomy.

Is Tom Ford insane?

Who can finish this sentence?

These Tom Ford boots are designed for _________________________.

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Salvatore Ferragamo is no stranger to maximalist footwear. These Fata sandals are constructed from an eclectic mix of tactile fabrics – note the green reptile-effect calf-leather front, suede trims, and mink-fur block heel and ankle strap. Consider them a fresh, contemporary way of offsetting a demure midi dress.

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I agree they would offset a demure dress, if by “offset” you mean adding a note of pure horror. Look at the rear view:

It’s like a grizzly bear ate your feet and is trying to get away with it, like Nothing to see here, move along!

$1,499

This new offering from Chloe says, simply, “I’m Sorry.”

Chloé’s ‘Liv’ boots are embellished with swirling silver, burgundy, midnight-blue and brown beads and finished with swishy fringing. Made in Italy, this black suede pair has a comfortable round toe and block heel.

Swishy fringing…the words alone are embarrassing.

They’re like someone trying to cover a big butt with a grass skirt. But it’s not their fault!

I forgive them.

But not Chloe.  $1,799

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I scrolled by these shoes today and felt their sadness.

They’re trying hard to look gay and festive and boho, but you can see right through that shaky facade. They are about to cry.

I don’t know about you, but I can see sadness everywhere. It’s either a gift or a pathology, depending on your value system.

I read a good thesis on empathy as a spectrum, with autistic indifference on one end and a kind of hysterical hyper-compassion on the other end. Neither extreme is any good.

A high degree of empathy isn’t the same as being depressed, although I’m depressed too. It’s just an involuntary response in the right supramarginal gyrus (part of the cerebral cortex.)

I don’t know why an abundance of empathy seems to result in an acute sense of the tragic rather than an overload of joy. It just doesn’t seem to work that way. Certainly not unless you’re stoned.

When poor Hillary Clinton spoke at the Commander in Chief forum last week, she was criticized for not smiling enough, and even worse, for appearing “joyless.”

Imagine being graded on how much “joy” you appear to exude!

Life would be even harder for those of us who feel the sadness of shoes.

When I was getting to know my husband, he complained once that I was not more “celebratory.” I remember feeling wounded but also furious. I think I screamed something like, “Celebratory isn’t even a fucking word!” I figured he was comparing me to his ex, who literally wore party hats.

Maybe there’s a spectrum for celebratoryness, which totally isn’t a word, with me at one extreme and the ex at the other?

Here’s one thing I learned recently and I wish I’d understood it forty years ago, before having my first child: There is a spectrum of human sensitivity, and is apparent in early childhood.  Some kids are more like dandelions and can thrive anywhere, while others are more like orchids – highly sensitive and more permeable.

With intervention, highly sensitive children can learn to process their environment in ways that make life less traumatic for them

If you’re always accused of being “too sensitive” or you suspect that your kid is anxious or depressed, read this.

But first, look at this Fendi sneaker:

It’s like an animal or bird crashed into it and died, but it won’t fall off. This shoe is not only sad, but embarrassed. It wears its shame wherever it goes. And so can you for twelve hundred bucks.

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When life gives you lemons….. .ugly shoes!

Ugly shoes got your back.

Thanks, Miu Miu.

I don’t even know what these shoes want, except to offend. Mission accomplished, Velvet Ankle-Wrap Ballerina Flats!

Just tell me, why those fucking buckled straps? Are they there to make sure no one can yank off your $890 shoes and run off with them? Or are they just there to discourage potential suitors?

These shoes are the essence of ‘I can’t even’.

I hope they bring you a spark of joy, as Marie Kondo might say before throwing them out.

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If you live in the world of pop culture and fashion, you know all too well that the green suede Puma creepers by Rihanna are the new holy grail.

And you’ve been anxiously awaiting May 26, when they were scheduled to go on sale.

I discussed the challenge of obtaining them with friends online, and we braced ourselves for the effort. And the probability of disappointment: Rihanna’s shoes sell out in the blink of an eye, leaving a global trail of broken hearts and frantic eBay searches.

I missed out on the pink creepers and it was a bitter loss. It still hurts. It will hurt forever.

So I discussed my plan with my husband, and we both logged on to the Puma website at midnight eastern time, thinking how smart we were. After a long period of nothingness, I called customer service, who said they would be available at 7: a.m.

Now, here comes the love part.

My husband knows I can’t get up before noon except for catastrophes. So he set his alarm and tried to buy the shoes for nearly an hour before giving up. Every time my size seemed to appear, he clicked on them and got “SOLD OUT.”

Later, he told some friends about the ordeal, and no one could understand my fixation on the shoes. Apparently, they associated my behavior with “young people.”

Hey, fuck them! 62 is the new forty, and forty is like 25, and at my core I am still 14, stubborn, angry, and style-obsessed.

When I finally got out of bed, I scoured the internet for the green creepers, and using a list of the Top Ten sneaker sites, found a pair at a store in Texas. I figured it was some kind of mistake, even after I paid for them.

But tonight I’m wearing them, and obviously they did nothing to change my life or even dull my greed for more pointless consumer goods. The high is in scoring, I guess, like opiates. Rather than ‘happy,’ I’d say I’m relieved.

I do feel lucky to have my husband. He always has my back. He is my everything.

And I’ve just tried to pick a fight on Twitter with some writer on Bustle who’s gloating about scoring two pairs and describes them as “illusive.”

Well me neither, but that’s just us. What do we know? We’re so basic.

Spending $974 would be a small price to pay for broadcasting to the world that we are edgy, daring and hostile.

Actually, if you’re following fashion as neurotically as I do, you’ll know that all anyone cares about right now is the perfect low-top white sneaker. You have to get a very special kind that’s so Nothing, you can’t figure out why it costs $395 or $695, depending on whether it’s Common Projects or Raf Simons.

You will wear your perfect white sneakers with your shapeless minimalist shroud by The Row, or your cropped flare jeans by Frame or Mother that hit your leg at just the right part of your calf to look especially, calculatedly, awkward. And you’ll be carrying a nondescript handbag by Mansur Gavriel.

Or, you can just wear some oversized streetwear by Vetements that only other idiots will recognize, because Kanye.

Fashion is so monumentally irritating!

How do fashion bloggers and magazine editors keep up their enthusiasm? Fashion is so loaded with class signifiers and mindless imitation and sweatshop slavery. You can’t set your own trend unless you’re Rihanna. Everybody tries to wear what everybody is wearing, because otherwise you’ll look like a know-nothing who can’t keep up or afford to emulate a Rhinoceros.

Right now, I’m wearing a pair of black cords by Paige Jeans and a silk shirt by Equipment. You won’t know how cool I am unless you read a lot of fashion shit, but trust me. I got them at Salvation Army or Goodwill, which only shows how devoted I am to my coolness and label-whoring.

Now, if all this means nothing to you, I salute you! You’re my fucking hero.

And I offer you these banana shoes by Dolce & Gabbana, priced to sell at a reasonable $1,745.