Sometimes I go looking for trouble but other times it assaults me when I’m doing what I call Minding My Own Business. These fucking boots are in the second category.

I was scrolling through the new arrivals at farfetch.com when they came at me. What the fuck is wrong with this designer, Natasha Zinko? Everything she makes is a monstrosity, just pure visual hell. If you do a search of the brand at farfetch, you will want to kill her.

Anyway, the stupid sleeve-flaps hanging from this boot…let the website explain.

Much like the designer herself, Natasha Zinko is fun, vibrant and brimming with energy. Her personality undoubtedly shows through each clothing piece. These blue 100 denim-wrapped leather ankle boots from Natasha Zinko feature a pull-on style, a pointed toe, side flap pockets, a cut-out heel, a 100mm high stiletto heel and a leather sole.

The price, $1,313 is also an affront. Why the double 13? Round up or down, motherfuckers.

But then, not content to wallow in the nightmare of the boots, I went looking for one of my favorite tools of self-harm, the ex-wife’s monthly column in her neighborhood paper. This month, she is expounding on the weather.

Try reading it aloud, if you’re alone. Or to your partner, if he wasn’t ever married to her.

How can this be real, the real thoughts and words of a human brain? Each time, I am amazed. Or as she might put it, amazed anew.

God. On the other hand, I’d be sad without the torments of the internet. Wouldn’t you? Or not?

Last night, I was summoned by George W (described by a talking head on CNN as a ‘high-functioning moron’ in a rare moment of candor) and Grandpa to meet with Sarah Palin in her home-state, Alaska. She had fled there after suffering a nervous breakdown on national TV, due to a ruthless interrogation by Katie “Mengele” Couric. Even Grandpa himself couldn’t have stood up to this kind of merciless torture.

Sarah looked freshly tanned, but a little shaky. She led me outside to her backyard and pointed out Russia. Sure enough, I could see Putin in Alaska’s airspace! What the hell was he doing? Sarah started running around in little circles. It wasn’t panic; it was more like she was dribbling an imaginary basketball.

I helped Todd and Levi carry her to her bed, where we managed to sedate her by reading the bible and injecting some thorazine into her one remaining functional vein. Everyone wandered outside to watch Putin up in the sky. Little Trig tried to wave. Or maybe Piper was just flipping him around. Bristol’s water broke, but her dad advised her to ignore it until after the election.

When I arrived home, exhausted but proud to have been of service, I received this email from Sarah, who has managed to open a new Yahoo account with only a little help from Piper. I don’t think Mrs. P would mind if I share her letter with the good citizens of our exceptional democracy.

Dear Sister Wolf,

Our visit was so cool and awesome. I know you and John McCain agree that I can see Russia and that such as. The people in Russia who share our border and who fly around dropping the things and we must be prepared for the terrorists over there and not here on our own democratic soil as I have said as Governor many, many times. A pitbull is now overhead in the sky but haha I’m a hockey mom so I know what to do.

The First Dude is out with Bristol somewhere, and I know they are praying for John McCain to save this Fannie Mac type economy that the taxpayers must not blink! Not at all Charlie, no blinking, none. Nada.

John McCain is the answer to this country’s change, as I have said to the people, thanks but no thanks. That was when they asked me to take down the beehive. Over my dead body will I cave in to liberal elitists on the hair issue. No blinking on that one.   Now McCain is hinting that I could best help this great exceptional country by taking a trip on an ice floe.   I will pray on it and then decide what God wants from me.   I can’t second guess Israel and neither can John McCain or that fucking bitch Katie Couric, excuse my French.

Again, I did not blink nor will I second guess Israel, or second guess what Israel may or may not or may yet want to do. Nor should we second guess Israel.

<3 Sarah

This new reality series will be fun to watch, as long as you have a stiff drink on hand. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll want to smash your TV or whoever happens to be sitting next to you.

Grandpa is one of those crusty old guys with a hair-trigger temper. He’s a lot like Hank’s dad on “King of the Hill.” He usually talks in a soft voice, eerily reminiscent of John Travolta with the whistling “s.”

You can never be mean to Grandpa because he was tortured during the war. Not that war, the other one, where the poor little girl got burned with napalm. Anyway, Grandpa was on a bombing mission and ended up getting tortured. You heard me, HE WAS TORTURED. He was tortured for you, much like Jesus, only Grandpa was even braver.

The Church Lady is a real bully, and she smiles when she’s mad. She looks like a librarian, but in fact she tried to oust a librarian in Wasilla when the librarian refused to ban some books. She had to back down from the librarian, but became known for her vindictiveness. People were scared to incur her wrath. She fired the chief of police when she became mayor,   because she didn’t believe “in her heart” that he “supported her enough.”

This season’s highlight is when The Church Lady is questioned about the birth of her baby with Down Syndrome. Instead of just confirming that of course she is his mother, she shoves her pregnant teenager into the limelight to quash the rumors. THEN, the teenage babydaddy is rushed to town as a prelude to a shotgun wedding.

WARNING, SPOILER AHEAD!

In my favorite episode, The Church Lady brings her family on stage at a huge loud convention and reaches for her baby, turning around so the cameras can get a shot of his little Down Syndrome features. Too bad if he should have been shielded from the deafening noise and bright lights! He is a trophy now, just like the dead bears and wolves she loves to shoot.!

Tomorrow, we’ll try to have some fashion or something less horrible, like almost anything.

The movie is based on a true story. In 1965, a mother of 7 in Indiana took in two young girls as boarders. One of the girls became the focus of the woman’s demented rage, and ended up being tortured to death.

This plot seems timely, given the news from Austria, but there is nothing to be gained from this film, in terms of understanding the forces that can pervert human behavior.

The worst thing is that according to the film and factual accounts of the crime, a group of children took part in torturing the girl. It became an after-school sport to visit the basement and abuse this helpless, broken teenager.

I want to know why ordinary children would do this. I want to know why a filmmaker would chronicle this abuse without offering any insight or consolation. I want to know what the actors were thinking when they took on this project. And I want to be warned before a film this thanklessly brutal appears in my living room.

I could have stopped watching, but I was desperate for catharsis. I felt certain that there would be a payoff of some kind. Silly me. The use of torture as entertainment has no obligation other than financial profit.

If you ever suspect a case of child abuse, don’t hesitate to report it. It won’t matter if you’re wrong, at least you’ll know you tried to help. Look out for each other. And beware of this fucking movie, no matter how much you like Ellen Page.