It’s time for 'moral' Christians to take a good, long look in the mirror.

The prism of morality:

Morality. That word though. So nebulous and malleable—a favourite of American Christians, in describing what they have that non-believers simply cannot. A moral guideline. You see, according to many prominent and vocal Christians, to be an atheist is to be morally deficient. For who can be good without moral guidelines such as the bible to go from?

The first thing an Atheist will say, which is a great question, is—are the ‘moral guidelines’ of your bible the only things keeping you from being a bad person? Is it the ink on the biblical pages the only thing that stops you from raping and pillaging and murdering willy-nilly? Most atheists agree, that if that is the case, you are a morally questionable person—and you don’t get to preach to anyone about morality.

You see, Christianity, or religion as a whole, does not own morality. Furthermore, morality is, going by the bible (and sometimes other religious texts), questionable. Let’s face it, the bible and its various kin are anything but bastions of morality. The bible alone suggests that while to kill is a mortal sin that it’s okay to sacrifice your children; and throughout the holy books, murder and sacrifice are rampant. The bible will tell you that being an adulterer is forbidden, that it is acceptable for the characters of the many biblical allegories, to marry as many wives as needed, to rape indiscriminately, to marry and lie with children, or to sleep with siblings’ wives and husbands are okay. The bible is filled with morally reprehensible acts, and the foundations of these stories are supposed to be the moral guidelines that Christians live by.

God, is anything but infallible on morality. I mean, to start with, the all-knowing, all-seeing word of god is so set in stone, that he had to revise his words in the New Testament—so exactly how reliable is the dogma if that’s the case? Books riddled with contradictions, which are meant to represent the word of an infallible god? Not exactly something to live by. Unless you pick and choose whatever sounds suitable to your narrative from the book. So if morality can be picked, and chosen, it is really morality? And more so, if your moral guideline is made up of carefully selected tenets, is it really a reliable guideline?

What does this all mean for the countless civilizations that existed without Christianity? And who somehow muddled through the centuries surviving, living wholesome lives, coexisting in communities with other people, raising children, building towns and cities, and doing so utterly bankrupt of Christian morality? Does the existence of Christianity negate all this history? Did morality not exist before Christ was ostensibly born and spent his short, hippie life preaching love and peace? Life did not begin when Christianity was born, and it will not end when Christianity does.

Morality has some very basic aspects that pretty much every civilization understands—with or without the imposition of some kind of overarching religious dogma to reinforce it. Pretty much anyone in the world is born with empathy. Pretty much everyone in the world, regardless of religion, knows to murder is wrong. Pretty much everyone in the world enters it with a desire to be thoughtful and kind to others. It is the programming of the immediate environment that fine-tunes how a child will grow up. And the society in which you are raised will determine, ultimately, who you are going to be. Children have shown, again and again, that acceptance and kindness is just part of their natural spirit. It is often the families themselves that teach that child whether to be accepting or not to; it is the family themselves that teach a child that it’s okay to hate. And it is the how those families choose to act and believe that will shape their prejudices. Whatever society and religious background you end up in, you may likely reflect whatever those norms are. Morality, at least the very foundation of morality; is inherent. Whatever else is placed upon you by your upbringing. And what one people think is moral, might be repugnant to another. Morality is mostly relative.

An extremist always believes he or she is the pinnacle of morality. Those ISIS guys, they’re not going around telling themselves that what they are doing is amoral. They believe that they are representing the purest of moralities when they murder and destroy. When Christian extremists attack or protest, they believe they are the defenders of moral behaviour, and they are showing the rest of the world that this is how one should be.

Most atheists are humanists. If you don’t know what a humanist is, let me define it for you (per google): Humanism is a philosophical and ethical stance that emphasizes the value and agency of human beings, individually and collectively, and generally prefers critical thinking and evidence (rationalism and empiricism) over acceptance of dogma or superstition.

Most human beings of their own agency, are moral. Most human beings don’t kill one another. They don’t harm, they don’t steal. Most human beings of their own agency are kind. They share. They heal. They provide. They soothe. They show empathy. There are infinite numbers of people who are these things without once ever being told to by a religious doctrine.

Atheists are in no way different. In fact, Atheists are often willfully empathetic, and kind, and accepting because that is the way they choose to be. Choosing not to take part in a collective delusion does not in any way affect how they are as moral beings. In fact, they are less likely to be amoral, because they do not have any overarching guideline that tells them they should be. They don’t have views that make them ‘moral extremists’, as let’s say, ISIS, or the Evangelical Christians, or the KKK.  Westboro Baptist Church and its mentally deranged acolytes truly believe they are morally superior when they protest a veteran’s funeral with hateful signs and threats of fire and brimstone. Atheism does not seek to impugn anyone for not sharing their version of morality. Atheism does not threaten hell or damnation for those who don’t align their beliefs with theirs.

The moral high ground: Who’s got it?

Well, sad to say, it isn’t Christians. Especially these days. Historically, Christianity has shown itself to be anything but moral. From the serial, almost systemic abuse of children in the churches, to the consistent oppression and belittling of the women in its ranks, Christianity seems to be better suited to demonstrate amorality than anything else.

Presently, Christianity has become almost willfully and malevolently amoral. As it has attached itself to the right-wing political movement, Christianity has twisted into something even more despicable and horrible than it ever was. Promoting and supporting self-centric behaviour, supporting the idea that every person should have the right to be police, judge, jury and executioner in their promotion of firearm ownership, in the endorsement of things like the death penalty, in the cutting of resources for the poor, the old, the infirm and the ill. And it doesn’t stop there. Christians overwhelmingly voted for Donald Trump, and various congressmen and women who have made some terrible moral choice, and continue to stand by them. Trump’s offenses are almost too many to count. Offenses, that if imposed by any other person centered on the political spectrum, would have been tarred and feathered for. Roy Moore, a man who serially abused teenaged girls, received an outpouring of support from the Christians in the nation—and he too stood for the idea of Christian morality, while trying to excuse away his molestation of children. Yet these people, like Kim Davis, are morally corrupt by every definition, even by the ill-defined tenets of the bible, still have the stones to stand up and preach morality to people in books and speeches, as if they are somehow ordained to do so, in spite of being some of the most morally questionable people on earth.

Christians are besieged by their own hypocrisy. And that is a problem. Hypocrites don’t get to dictate how other people should behave if they themselves cannot abide by their moral beliefs. It has become almost painfully evident just how hypocritical Christianity is, since it became synonymous with politics. Christianity’s stance on abortion would probably be more impactful if the larger part of women seeking abortions weren’t Christian, or if the churches would do more to fight on behalf of the millions of unwanted, unsupported children in the world. Christianity’s rigid views on homosexuality would probably have more footing if pastors and priests weren’t consistently hiding homosexual activities. Christians would be better respected, if they took a hard stance on the pederasty that is endemic in the churches, and didn’t fight so hard to hide the problem rather than confront and stop it. Christian women would probably be taken more seriously, if they didn’t stand for their own subjugation and oppression. Christians would benefit from re-examining its condemnation of adultery when adultery and divorce were not part and parcel of the Christian community. Christian charity would be more valued if it didn’t always come with a side of indoctrination. Kindness should not come with conditions.

Many Christians will argue that no Christian is perfect, and that is part of their spiritual journey. But the response to that is simple: We don’t expect perfection. What we do expect is that a person who claims moral superiority as a Christian, to actually BE a Christian as they claim. To abide by those moral guidelines they set for themselves, and cherry-picked from the bible, and to stop twisting their moral guide to suit whatever madness they choose to pursue.

So who has the moral high ground? What we do know, it’s not Christianity. It’s not Islam. It’s not Judaism. All belief systems are morally questionable. Atheism, as it is not a belief system, simply makes conclusions on what’s there. Atheists seek only to trust their own agency in what is good and what is bad. And atheists seem to be doing a good job of it. Does that mean atheists have the moral high ground? Who knows? What I do know is that atheism has no ulterior motives. The only thing most atheists want is to have a reasonable, rational world where what’s best for humanity is taken into consideration first—where the quality of life takes precedence over some idealized idea of the afterlife. Where we take care of other human beings and always seek progress as a species so that we can achieve greater things. Atheism does not want to hinder progress, to stifle man’s potential, to cure, to build, to forge paths into the future, to educate, to enlighten, and to learn. Religion has, historically, always stood in the way of these things, for whatever reason.

Atheists are reviled for one reason alone: theists are filled with doubt. The only thing that reinforces their beliefs is to be surrounded by others who support that belief. Atheists stand to dismantle that comfortable delusion with pragmatism, and that is dangerous and threatening to a theist. It fills them with fear because it would force them to understand the world in a completely different way. That is why atheists are accused of being amoral. Because there is nothing scarier than someone who punches through the overarching dogma to see the world for face value, and not for the fantasy created by religion, and who functions with kindness, empathy, and acceptance without being told they must or how to.

Religion is not morality. It’s narcissism.

How self-centered does a person have to be to believe that god is watching over them and not others? The other day, I was in a discussion with a woman who told me with no small amount of gushing alacrity, that Jesus was with her. Through her trials and tribulations, through a crisis with her son, that took her to California and back, “Jesus was with me. All the way,” she effused with her hands clasped. “He was with me in the car driving down to California. He changed the radio stations as I went along, in a way to inspire me,” she declared (never mind that she might be shifting from one broadcast signal area to another… c’mon). I sat there, watching her rapturous exclamations, and thought to myself: What about those Christians that were made to kneel on the edge of a large pit by extremist Muslims, shot in the head and buried in it? Or the children being murdered and raped and dying of disease all over the world? What about them? Jesus cared about what radio station you listen to, but who the hell cares about the innocents being slaughtered? Would god only look after certain Christians? Different denominations? Or is the the Mormons who have it right? Which one? Yours, naturally.

It is an exercise in narcissism to be religious. To believe that a god loves you more. Who cares about where you left your car keys, but who lets entire cities be destroyed. Prayer is just a way of turning any issue into something about you. And religion lets you believe that all of this is a moral way to behave. To be so selfish. To be so absorbed in yourself and your journey to the afterlife living in the clouds playing softball with the apostles.

Selfishness is not moral. Even in its act of kindness, there’s self-serving motives when it comes to a church. As I said before, religious charity comes with indoctrination. In the end, religious people don’t have the monopoly on morality. Maybe they do on self-absorption and indignant righteousness, and on pointing fingers and attacking and threatening people who don’t align with their beliefs. But they sure as hell don’t own morality by any means.

So my suggestion to all Christians, before you start condemning others for amoral behaviour and attacking people for not sharing your beliefs; look in the mirror before you open your mouths. Look at what's scowling back at you. And learn to accept that it's ugly, or learn to be your own agent of morality, and rise above your dogma to be a better person.

Every. Single. Time. Seriously. (not for squeamish people)

I went through another convention (Walker-Stalker/Heroes & Villains Fanfest)  and naturally, this happened. Every convention since 2012, this has happened the night before or during the event. I got my period in the middle of my wedding day. So I came home from the event and was inspired to sketch. Enjoy. 

PS, go to the bottom to see what happened at our booth (hint: it was crashed by Michael Rooker and Brendan Routh...)

Michael Rooker snatched my ukulele which I had brought to manage my anxiety, and 'rocked out' on it. His handler told me I was lucky I got it back in one piece. LOL. 

Brendan Routh (Atom/Superman) -- crashed the booth too.

The Bitter Pig-faced Lolita (was *that* offensive?)

I’ve had it with Tone Bullies. Well, one Tone Bully in particular—who I thought had been blocked but whose inexplicable return came with the inevitable negative encounter.  You see, Facebook is rife with these people. The embittered, mean-spirited, hyper sensitive narcissists, who view every post and every comment as something invariably about them; as something about their issues. This one in is a particularly volatile example. I know her through the ORS. She made a brief appearance in the group. It wasn’t brief enough. Armed with an arsenal of bad seamstressing, personal issues and dietary and medical problems, every event she attended became something about her stomach, her health or her personal offense. She left one of our retreats early because she felt ‘unwelcome’. Stop the world! Nobody likes me! (Probably because you’re a whining asshole—FYI)

My first encounter with her is also documented in this blog somewhere. Unknown to me, a friend of mine posted a humourous meme or movie or something that laughingly mocked vegans. This person, (who I will dub henceforth as ‘Balding Pink Haired PigFace McEverythingsAboutMe’ or BPHPFMcEAM), being dietarily ‘sensitive’ (but also being as overweight as me if not more—obviously not *so* sensitive that she can’t eat like a Roman in a vomitorium), posted a bully missive that made my friend feel compelled to remove the post. She made a comment about having to do so, and that raised my hackles.

I.  Hate. Bullies.  HATE THEM. So I replied to the comment telling my friend that she should have not removed her post, that it was her wall, and that it isn’t up to someone else to tell her what should and should not be there. If that person is offended, that’s their fucking problem.

Now let me interject something here… A few weeks ago, someone posted a meme that was basically a statement about white men being more respectable than black men, simply by the way they dress; the meme showed black guys with droopy pants and flat-billed caps, next to a photo of a couple of white bros in suits and ties. Now that meme was stupid and flat out racist. There was no ambiguity, no lack of clarity; it was racist. And I told that person that it was. I also told them that there was no shortage of white guys running around with droopy pants and douchey flat-billed caps.  However there’s a stark difference between a full-on racial commentary and a meme making fun of vegans.  Vegans are not a culture of people being marginalized by society. They’re vegans.

So there’s a fine line here. The issue here is that this post by my dear friend was not about BPHPFMcEAM. But to her it was, you see, because SHE had dietary issues, and that would be offensive to people with dietary issues and blahdefuckingblah. I got into a fray with her, in which she did what apparently must be habit for her, she made some comment and then blocked me so that I could neither see it or respond to it further. No big deal, good riddance, yes, it’s cowardly to shout something before slamming the door, but I am used to the ‘attack then retreat’ tactic, my narcissistic mom did it all the time.

Life was quieter without evidence of BPHPFMcEAM’s existence for quite some time. But I noticed her name and the image of her pig-face popping up again on another friend’s profile under comments. I ignored her. But invariably, because she doesn’t like me, she found a reason to start her Tone Bullying again. This time, she hijacked this other friend’s post about the hyper-masculinizationß(not sure if actual word) of mens’ products.  It was a fake ad for ‘manpons’. It was funny. Funny as shit. Here it is:

Yes. It’s funny, and it’s totally true, the ads would TOTALLY be like that.  Anyhow, I made the comment beneath that, seeing as most men are total babies when it comes to pain in comparison to women, if they had a period, they’d more likely spend it curled up into the fetal position whining for a week.  And sound the horns, the TONE POLICE came a-ridin’ in on a Special My Little Pony Lolita Unicorn.

You see, apparently because she has a trans partner or friend, this was suddenly about the Trans community and my comment was horrendously offensive to them. I was dismissing trans men who DO suffer from periods, you see.  I was erasing their pain by making fun of guys being weenies about being in pain or sick.

I asked her to not turn the content of the thread into something else.  But she continued on, dropping a litany of inane and boring buzzwords and yammering on about how this was INDEED about what she wanted it to be. When I responded the last time, saying that her response had nothing to do with anything other than the male gender born with male bits, and that trans men could not be included simply by the fact that they experienced the heartbreak of menstruation. And in true form, she posted a response I could not see because she immediately blocked me.    

The above video, and the commentary about men being weenies about pain became something about this unfortunate woman. I cannot begin to imagine what it would be like to look at everything with her eyes. Seeing offense where there is none; digging for maliciousness where there never was any. But the part that chaps my ass the most is the active desire to hijack someone’s feed and turn it into something about themselves. Every shred of opportunity, people like this latch onto it and whine and flail until someone notices them.  Everyone deserves consideration and kindness, but going about like some embittered, angry fool, trying to force everyone’s narrative into something that doesn’t offend your overly sensitive viewpoint, well that’s just plain bullying.

There are lots of other things that prove that this person is just generally an angry, nasty person in general, and who projects a great deal of her shortcomings on people. She didn’t last long in the group because of it. She blamed all of us for it, naturally, rather than her own social deficiencies. I am kind to everyone. Always. But when they try to make me out to be something I’m not, that’s when my kindness goes away. That’s when I stop giving a shit about their overly sensitive nature. And when they start hijacking threads, and bullying people into removing posts because they want the attention drawn to themselves, then that’s when I just call them out for what they are.

And since I have been blocked in a cowardly manner from saying so…. I will call this person out for what she is. She is a loser. An attention whore. A mean spirited, tone bully. A sour, pig faced, cow with shoddy costumes that no amount of pink Lolita wigs and bows will cure. And no amount of spouting PCness will change that. You don’t get social-credit points for fighting the acceptance fight where there is no battle. You don’t get to be sanctimonious and self-righteous because you have dietary issues; contrived or real, or because you are married to a trans partner. These things don’t make you a better, more accepting person. The fact that you can’t view a conversation of any kind unless you see it through your defensive lens makes you a non-accepting person. The fact that you can’t let people have a good laugh, or an opinion that is benign and NOT ABOUT YOU IN ANY WAY, without making it so, means you’re a bully. A nasty, ugly bully.  And you think that by defending the cause du jour (where no defense is required) will absolve you of that, well that’s deluded and pathetic.

Reflect on yourself, you sad human being. Don’t let a cause define you and make you bitter. I will not calculate my words, restrict my sense of humour, edit my postings, to keep from offending you. I know I’m a good person. I KNOW I am. I am not without flaws, which I often own, and some I deny… but I am not overtly mean, racist, intolerant, bigoted or cruel. I’m snarky, yes. I own that. I’m blunt, and forthright. And I will call people out on their shit. But I don’t like to be called out for shit when there is none. I won’t tolerate that.

You are not the decider of my character based on your own twisted standards—turning benign words into bad ones because it suits you. You can see me any way you want to see me, but don’t you dare tell me how I should speak, try to censor or control my speech or correct me. Unless I am overtly condemning trans people, or saying that all vegans should be put into death camps, you have nothing to say. If you don’t like me, keep your stupid words to yourself. But don’t paint me into the person you want me to be because you’re a nasty, insecure, obnoxious, self-righteous, sanctimonious bitch. And if you want me to be offensive to you, here it is, you pig faced ugly cow. Now you can go cry what a terrible person I am. Asshole.

God I can't stand that idiot. She didn't even deserve the politness she got when she was around.

End of ranting session. TYVM

The life of an extroverted introvert.

I am an introvert. When I declare this to people who've gotten to know me a bit, they furrow their brow as if I'm declaring my conversion to religion. It's just hard to believe. In social situations, I can't shut the fuck up. I talk all the time. It's really annoying, even to me. I look at that kind of behaviour as my frantic thrashing to keep myself from drowning. It's the only way I can describe it. Internally, I'm telling myself to shut up, shut up, shut up! It's a hell of a dichotomoy to cope with.

Introversion comes in so many shades, it's crazy. There's the full on hermit, then there's the kind like me, who enjoys social interaction, but only for a certain amount of time before I'm done.  Every time I have social interaction, I need recovery time. Even if it's just making a phone call.  Having this anxiety thing added on makes it even more impossible, and adds a sense of growing panic doing things that are just ordinary to other people.

I've been having a rough time of it these past few months. I think it's a cruel machine of perpetual motion; staying home makes me even more hermit like, and more anxious, but being out drives me home again, and there you go. Anyway... I'll try not to make every post these days be about the stupid anxiety and such. But it's so much of my life I need to chill about it.

I am going to focus on some projects. I have comic con to deal with this month, plus the dreaded birthday--you all know how much I despise the birthday. Anyway, I am gonig to repaint a Monster High doll and try to costume her up too. I'm not great at sewing in miniature, but I'll give it a try. It could be a fail or a win. We shall see! I also have some gorgeous merino wool for the hair.

I've been a little 'off' on the regency thing lately. My interest levels in costuming have been Merh at best, possibly even a Gargh. But my interests wax and wane. And I just read a study that creativity is paramount to beating depression, so being creative is a great way to counteract my blahs. Now to just get the blahs out of the way enough to get motivated,

No more grumpies today! I promise. Hopefuly I'll have some fun creative posts in the next weeks or so. Happy Valentine's to all, and come by my table at Comic Con to see me if you're in Portland on the 19th, 20th and 21st of Feb.  Miranda Mayer is me. I'll be hiding behind the safety of my table, schmoozing people and hawking my pulp.

A real post for a change but still with 365s

I’m not going to minced words—I’ve been struggling with keeping my eyes and nose above the water level this past year. I hate that I now sound like one of those people who annoyed me to no end talking about their medical issues; “Oh, my sciatica is just killing me these days….” And “The migraines are just incapacitating…”

I’ve developed a bit of a soul over the past having been humbled by the development of my own medical issues. The anxiety has become a part of my life I can no longer ignore and it has made my already hermity and anti-social nature even worse. I’m on medication, naturally, it’s now a regular part of my routine. It has helped normalize me as far as it can. But it does not stop the insomnia, the constant self-censure, the insecurity, the sense of helplessness and it has made my RLS so bad at night that sometimes I cannot sleep at all because my legs feel like they want to run off the bed. Anxiety sucks balls. I have been working to be better; forcing myself out of the house, and all those things. I’m getting better, but it’s up and down.

I have little to no interest in the regency stuff right now. I love being around my ‘peeps’ when I’m with them, but revving up my motivation to even participate is so hard. I try. I go to things, but honestly, most of the time I just don’t want to. I hope that passion comes back. It was awesome and I miss it. I am also pushing myself to finish my newest book and get it to the editing process. It’s easier to focus on that because it’s part of being creative and I’ve been missing that very much since Alex was born. I think the inability to use the creative outlets I have has probably contributed to my anxiety and depression issues. I have been ruminating on how little I’ve posted on my blog these past months besides my 365s. I’m amazed I’ve kept up with them as long as I have. I think I might make the full year! I confess the weeks after my trip to Florida, I did flag a bit, but I was overcome with a hideous case of giardia (NEVER.AGAIN.OMG), and I wasn’t in any shape to do anything, so a few photos were taken on the same day or many over a few days to catch up. Some are also out of sequence.

In the meantime, I decided I need to write something serious. I’m not quite back to my snarky self yet, she’s coming, I’m sure, but since I do go just about everywhere in this blog, I figured my next rant will fit right in. My rant is about the state of the world right now. About terrorism and refugees. It’s about the privilege of being a detached and indifferent American. Privilege comes in many forms. In the United States, especially. And there is an additional privilege that I think (and this is my own conjecture alone) is part of the reason why Americans are so quick to jump into war.

You see, the USA has enjoyed a charmed existence compared to Europe and other parts of the world; at least when it comes to war. That doesn’t mean I’m in any way diminishing the losses from either world wars, the Korean war, Vietnam etc. What I mean is that the USA has frequently found itself sending its sons and daughters overseas to fight on foreign soil, but with the exception of Pearl Harbour, the USA has seen little to no really intense war action on its own soil -- since the civil war.

Why this is relevant is because, for example, in Europe, especially the UK, France etc, there is a very fresh, short memory of the last war that ravaged the countryside. World War I and World War II were devastating. Landmarks decimated, millions killed and injured, cities bombarded continuously. The US arrived late into both of these fracases, and they sustained comparably fewer losses than most of the world-war countries. It took the direct engagement of American interests to even get them fully involved.

But war is profitable, and the US has since been at war almost continuously ever since; but American civilians have never experienced a blitz in their back yards. They aren’t still digging up live ordnance from the soil. They don’t have graveyards upon graveyards laid out like a quilt of nations, filled with the bodies of the dead taken down in their towns and villages.

The atrocities of war are a real thing for most of Europe still, and for many countries, they are a thing people are living with every day. And it’s our privilege as Americans to dismiss this because we don’t have any recent experience that can help us empathize and relate to what other people might be enduring. We have become a nation of insensitive fools because of it.’

9/11 only took 3000 lives, and yet it hit such a raw nerve, the country went into a collective state of shock, and turned to fear and xenophobia instead of defiance; as the countries who understand conflict directly do. We sent out our sons and daughters to fight on our behalf on the soil of countries not even related to the acts performed on that day, but somehow it soothed our collective fears to know someone was dying for what happened to us.

Imagine, if you will, how the US would react if it was pummeled like France or Britain in WWII. Imagine what real conflict would be like. Most Americans cannot. Their lawns remained meticulously pruned and their daily lives were largely unaffected by the succession of wars since the Civil War. The loss of their sons was a sufficient price to pay for this peace; while their children wreaked havoc on foreign soil on behalf of our government. We are attacked and we send a couple of massive thermo-nuclear devices and watch it from afar. We have grown arrogant and cocky because of this. We believe ourselves untouchable; while realizing deep down that we aren't, and feeling the fear of that bubbling up.

The Syrian refugees are fleeing violence that most American people cannot even begin to relate to. They don’t want to. They’ve never had their homes mortared. Their grandparents haven’t sat with them to recount how their homes were taken over by invading forces, and how certain people were taken away for their beliefs and killed in massive death camps. Americans were rationing stockings. That was the hardship the home-front suffered—while the eastern hemisphere literally burned.

So privilege it is. Even if we lost sons for the sense of near arrogance; the lack of humility and the zest for confrontation, as long as it’s not on American soil.

The attacks in Paris only made France more defiant. There is an element of fear, don’t get me wrong, but the predominant response in the country is FUCK YOU TERRORISTS you are not going to change our way of life. In the US, the mere whisper of terrorism means shouts to close borders and to turn away refugees; it means brown people being persecuted for being brown, and people buying more guns and bigger cars. The privilege of fear.

It’s upsetting to me how the USA has turned from a country of greatness and goodness to one of fear and paranoia. I can see where it happened, and where it continues to happen, and as long as we foster this culture of fear, we have allowed the terrorists (note how 'terror’ is part of this word)  to achieve their ends. A small faction of extremists, having such a powerful effect that it stuns an entire nation into fear… crazy isn’t it?  Americans merely wash the muslims with a sweeping generalized term of terrorists, and imagine millions of brown skinned people hoping to destroy the west—instead of even opening their ears to the fact that ISIS is about the same threat as the next five or six mass shooters that have attempted to enact their own terror in this country, but somehow not instilled that same level of fear.

Here is what’s true: You are more likely to be shot by a police officer than you are being harmed by a muslim extremist.  You are WAY more likely to be shot by your OWN gun in your OWN home (or someone in your household) than you are being harmed by a muslim extremist. That is just the truth. And fearing the Syrian refugees… well, that’s like fearing meteors falling on your head. With the intensive vetting process, no self-respecting extremist would bother. It’s easier to just hop on a plane and come as a tourist. And heck, it’s easy enough for them to get a gun here, so there you go.

You can crow until the cows come home about your security but you don’t know what being in danger is. Not compared to the Syrians. Even the French can claim the privilege of far better security than that of the truly afflicted nations like Syria and Lebanon.

And finally, a salient point here... We built this. As much as many Americans like to avoid responsibility for the consequences of our global actions, we have to face it; as a nation we have a duty to start fixing the disasters our policies and war mongering have caused. And if that means finding ways to support the hundreds of thousands of people fleeing their war-torn homes, then that is what we should do. If we risk a terrorist event in our country doing it, then so be it. Honestly, it’s not like we don’t already have our own home-grown terrorists who do much greater damage. Between the mass shootings and the church burnings and all the other crap going on, why are we focusing on ISIS? Is it that we fear that they will bring war to our back yards? Imagine that.

This is my next set of 365s for you. Enjoy.

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305/365 - I got this cat in 1984 for my birthday.
He's one of the few things I have from my
childhood. Alex is giving this old dude
a run for his money.

306/365 - I took this pic with my husband's phone. It's Halloween.

307/365

308/365

309/365

310/365

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313/365

314/365 

315/365 - Happy third birthday baby boy,

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320/365

An Overstepping Easter

I have to really credit myself these days for my ability to control my anger. I’m amazed I can do it actually. And this Easter was proof of it. I got into a bit of a row with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law.  It began innocently enough. We had a beautiful easter morning. Alex woke up to a basket full of treats, which he breakfasted on a bit. We then had an egg hunt in the yard, which was repeated because he loved it so much (I had to re-hide eggs). I was feeling good. One of the rare days these past weeks when I have.

Easter morning egg hunt. We just put a flannel over his jammies and put on
his shoes. No, he did not dress in the dark. LOL.

I was in my jammies too. Nobody saw.

The next stop was to the family gathering at the SIL’s house.  Let me throw in some background here.  T has never liked me. Ever. It’s been almost twelve years and she still hasn’t bothered to even try. She’s one of those people that celebrates her rudeness; she thinks it’s funny to be obnoxious, and her crappy people-skills earned her a demotion at work because she can’t keep her mouth shut or control her anger. For the duration of my being with my husband, T has made it clear that I am not to her liking. She’s cold and brusque with me. She makes underhanded, snarky, passive-aggressive comments, she invites me to nothing, does nothing with me, will withdraw from things I’m involved in, and has not bothered even once to try and get to know me on any personal level. It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve even done things I hate just to humour her. Laughed at Mexicans, and put up with listening to their ignorant drivel about Obama and their racist jokes. I have smiled, I have nodded, I’ve swallowed my urge to lay it all out for twelve years.  Why? To keep the peace, to let my husband have a good time with his family sans drama.  I’ve put up with this caustic woman and her  loaf of a husband for long enough.

Shortly before our wedding, I noticed that Loaf-in-law hadn't gone to the tux store to pick up his tux. So my husband called him to ask what the deal was. The loaf-in-law then proceeded to tell hubby that he wanted nothing to do with our wedding in that capacity and began listing the reasons why my husband shouldn’t marry me. I don’t know the exact words; I just remember the terse reply my husband gave him.  It was the one thing my mom got right on my wedding day. She walked up to Loaf and said: “Oh, hello. I didn’t recognize you without your tuxedo.”

It has always been a delicate dance. They criticize me, I suck it up and smile. I hug them hello; I engage them in conversation, I compliment whatever I can compliment, and I keep the peace. The only time she really engaged me in conversation was to complain about people. She bitches a lot about people. Every event that involved them is an event I approach with a pit in my stomach. It’s not pleasant being around family members who don’t like you—and you know if you say something to defend yourself or retaliate, you can earn the ire of others, including your husband. It’s emotional blackmail.

Dude, what's wrong with you? You're all weird looking.

You have something stuck in your teeth too.

He likes pretty girls. So much so,
he will get his face painted for some
face time.

Yeah, I'm cute. So what?

Yesterday, we arrived in high-spirits to their home. We got inside and Alex, being a normal child of two-years old, bee-lined for their cat. Their cat is an asshole. Of the worst kind. T even laughingly called him that when he spat and swiped at my child.  I did not get up in arms about it, I dismissed her ‘embarrassment’ and moved on.  I could tell from the get-go that Loaf was antsy and irritated. The TV was off for one. Usually, Loaf spends entire family gatherings in front of the boob-tube and then has the audacity to nitpick me if I choose to stay home from their get-togethers sometimes. He doesn’t participate, he’s just present, and not even really present.  But hey, I digress.

Alex proceeded to collect the eggs that T had sweetly set around the house for him; and he LOoooooved egg hunting.  Everyone was fussing about him, so I moved to the dining table and sat down, and the family then got him his easter baskets and oohed and aahhhed. Since he’s the only little one, that is the attention he gets. I just sat in the corner and let it happen. I love it when he is surrounded by  his family. He loves his grandpa and grandma and his cousin B.

During this fussing interlude, I heard a peppering of “Alex, No!”s coming from the cluster of 3-4 adults hovering near him.  I called out from the corner because I could not see, “What happened?” My husband replied: “He threw Easter eggs at the cat.”  My response was to the like of: “Oh, maybe he’s taking revenge for being swiped at by the cat.”  I did not see the incident, I figured there are four adults there, including his father, it’s covered. No biggie.

Daddy and Alex colouring some eggs.

Sweetest father on earth.

Then a few minutes later, I felt a bit removed from the hullabaloo, so I came out of the corner and sat down nearer to them, in one of the bottomless pit armchairs they have.  It’s the kind where you sit down and wonder if you’ll ever be able to get up. And Alex came crawling around the corner pushing a little Thomas train he got along the carpet. He chugged it along towards what turned out to be Scratchy the Asshole cat who should have been put away, and then paused, and chucked the train at the cat (and missed by far). I tried to extricate my fat butt from the sofa and was telling him no, but Dan actually got to him before I could actually get to my feet, and he turned him away from the cat.

Then Loaf says from the peanut gallery: “I would have spanked him twice already if he was my kid,” he mutters. Then he proceeds to say: “He needs to be disciplined. He needs just a little discipline.” You could tell by his red face that he was grossly irritated by my kid.  I looked over at Dan who said in a low voice: “Do you want to leave?” I shook my head and said no. I wasn’t willing to make waves at that point, even if I just had to endure having my parenting criticized by someone who thinks parenting is using the back of your hand.  But then the next ten minutes or so, Loaf did nothing but eyeball Alex, and make comments under his breath whenever the kid even moved.  He stood too close to the screen window. He walked too close to the cat treehouse.  My annoyance with him was building so I put on my shoes and decided to take Alex outside where he and I could be outside without irritating the Loaf.

They all followed, because it turns out the ‘adult’ egg hunt was set up out there.  I roamed about, letting Alex find eggs. I resolved to have a talk to T, and establish that what Loaf did was not okay. So when the eggs were all found, and we were counting them out at the picnic table, I said:

“For the sake of maintaining good feelings, I’d like to talk about what said.  It isn’t his business to tell us how to parent our child. I grew up in abusive home, so spanking is just not going to happen. If Alex is too rambunctious for him, then we can just not bring him here anymore.”

At first, T was claiming it was about the cat’s safety. You see, our kid could have harmed Scratchy the Asshole Cat who wouldn’t let my kid within four feet of himself without baring everything sharp on its small furry being. I accepted that, but as she spoke, she just got nastier and nastier. And then the setoff happened. She looked at me and said: “Telling me that you won’t bring Alex here anymore was a shitty thing to do,” her face contorted into the twisted ugly expression that can only be remotely be described by posting this picture:

She then repeated it in a low, gravely voice: “IT WAS A SHITTY THING TO DOOOOOOOOO STEPHANIE….” It took every fibre of my being, god help me, not to just burst out laughing right at that moment. It was sadly comical how she was blowing everything out of proportion.

I replied as I felt. I honestly felt that Alex wasn’t welcome by Loaf. That my crappy parenting made him intolerable to him. So that’s what I said. “If is uncomfortable with our undisciplined child, then we don’t need to bring him here.” In my head, I was thinking; you are welcome to visit him at our home, where we allow him to freely abuse and imperil his own cat without consequences :::snark:::.  The eyeroll was wanting to happen so bad, but I kept calm, meanwhile, T was starting to spool up even more.  Her husband loafed over, and my husband, who is a taciturn, quiet guy by nature, was also bristling.

She got in my face and started claiming that I laughed at his throwing toys at the cat. I did not.  “IT’S NOT CUTE, STEPHANIE! IT’S NOT CUTE!” she spat like some sort of possessed freak. She had decided to turn me into the enemy. This is the point where I realized this wasn’t about the cat. This was a venting of resentment that has been waiting for twelve years. T doesn’t like me, so I was about to feel the brunt of it.  Miss Anger Management then went off.

“Nobody said it was cute, T,” I muttered calmly.  Her reply was a furious growl: “Stop speaking to me like a CHILD, Stephanie…” At that point, I think I totally did roll my eyes. Then Loaf put in his two cents, which I don’t recall what he said; and my reply was: “Look, I would NEVER, EVER PRESUME to tell you how to parent YOUR child. It was uncalled for.  You do not get to tell us to spank our child. Period.”

My husband said “Let’s just go.” So I got up and we went into the house. T ran in front of us, and declared to everyone else as we walked in, in a loud, berating tone: “WELL THEY’RE THROWING A TANTRUM AND LEAVING…” She then began to repeat her accusations of my laughing, and then told everyone that I THREATENED her.  And she said threatened exactly as you would imagine it, In this dooming, horrified tone. I told her she was interpreting what I did and said to suit what she wanted, and that I am none of those things. But I can’t control how she feels. I called her defensive, and she blew up again. I started gathering up our stuff and Alex’s things. Dan, who is the quietest, sweetest, calmest person hollered at her to shut up, and shouted at Loaf that he had no businesses telling us how to parent Alex. Loaf then listed how great they are as parents, and how successful they were at raising their kid. B is a great kid. But they are far from perfect. 

T is a helicopter mom. She hovers over her kid like some kind of carrion bird over a carcass. She dresses in matching track suits with her kid. They don’t do anything socially, they really don’t have any friends, their lives revolve around their kid’s sports. They coach, they do booster stuff, they are their kid.  She has been overprotective of him since his birth as a preemie. I get it, I don’t have any issue with that, but that brand of parenting is not for us. We want Alex to not be a narcissist who thinks the world revolves around his needs and wants. I have never once, in all my time with this family, made any comments. I never asked them them if they had college plans for him. I never made any backhanded comments about what a momma’s boy he is—and how rarely I see him with other kids his age. I never snarked about how many hours the kid spends with his headphones on in front his array of gaming consoles every day, and during family gatherings. He’s like a ghost. He comes and goes and rarely speaks. If he’s not gaming, he’s watching TV with grandpa who spends at least 5 hours a day himself in front of Fox News getting angrier and angrier.

I think if there was no such thing as public school, he’d probably socially stunted. The closest thing to criticism I ever shared was asking them on the event of his thirteenth birthday, if he was going to do anything with his friends.  The answer was no.  I feel sorry for the kid. He’s a nice, sweet, passive kid with a good heart. But then I hear him parroting the hateful, racist shit his parents and step-grandfather like to say and I feel immediate and profound pity.  I’ve known him since he was three. He had only just begun talking at three. He was the polar opposite of Alex. Alex is independent and spunky, he runs and climbs and jumps. B is reflexive and clingy. He plays sweetly with both his mom and dad, and they have a good relationship, and I genuinely like the kid. I feel bad that he had to be spanked at all. How they raise him is their fucking business. Bottom line, and it’s none of my damned business to tell them how to parent.

But the T and Loaf seem to be under the impression that they have all the answers, and that they have the right to impose their methods on our kid. T was shouting at this point how she’d have been all over the kid if he’d thrown toys at the cat. I told her Dan handled it. She then implied that Dan would always handle it, making sure to leave me absent from that. I looked at my husband, whose face was beet red, and he retorted that she was full of crap and that we both handle the kid quite well. The irony is, I’m much tougher on Alex than Dan is. He’s the good cop. But T seems to be under the impression that I’m some sort of marshmallow/doormat. Of course, the three times a year she actually sees me is all the evidence she needs to come to that conclusion. Never mind that Alex is with me pretty much 24/7 and is really a good boy for a two year old. I then realized that maybe the reason why Loaf was so irritated when we came in, and why everyone looked so uncomfortable (aside from being exposed to this shouting match), was that maybe they were discussing our parenting before we arrived; possibly anticipating with a dash of dread spending time with the Tasmanian devil we are raising.  I dunno, it’s speculation at best, but I can’t account for the reason why Loaf was being such a douche, unless it was because the TV was off, which as I said, is a first in all the years I’ve been married and with my husband. The TV is usually the most valued guest at these gatherings.

Either way, hubby and I gathered up the stuff, and the kid and we left. My hands were shaking, but my temper was under control.  I don’t do well with confrontation most of the time. Just letting a tiny bit of my anger leak out usually just leads to the inevitable explosion of every resentment I’m feeling at the moment, including personal insults, attacks and any other nastiness I’ve swallowed over the years. I did not do that.

I’m not sure if this is fixable. I truly believe that these people owe us an apology.  I truly believe that the cat should have been put away. If they brought a kid into my home with my bitey, scratchy pet, I would put the pet into a room. Alex is two years old. You don’t reason with two year olds yet. And I sure as hell won’t hit him and take the lazy parenting way out.  Too many people do.  I won’t be spoken to like that again. So there’s a crossroads here. Hubby is angry as hell at his sister and brother-in-law. How can I trust Alex in their care at all now? If they think that it’s permissible to lay a hand on him when he does something as trivial as touching the cat’s tree? They obviously don’t respect the guidelines we have for our boy, and they think what is normal (giggling, running, jumping, being curious, touching things) for us, is intolerable for them; that kids should be cowering in quiet intimidation. Not going to happen. I love my child’s inquisitive nature, and if he was mad that the cat tried to attack him, then he had a right to be. That cat should not be around toddlers. My child’s comfort and safety is more important than their dickwad cat. You can’t expect a two-year old to leave a cat alone. At least, if you don’t hit them to make sure they do.  I don’t have any desire to continue swallowing anything when it comes to this anger-management nutcase of a sister in law or her lurch husband. I’m tired of their shit. And Dan is finally with me on that. It took them turning their attention to his son for it to smart enough for him to actually react.  It’s funny how one sibling is all reflection; Dan… and the other is all reaction. Good luck getting that demon woman to listen to anything. Yikes.

The saddest part was that she was projecting so much nastiness on me, I can’t help but understand her dislike for me. Because all that spitefulness towards me, the projection she makes onto me, just reflects her own dislike and unhappiness with herself. Of course, her drawn, face, dark circles, her baggy clothes, her defensive, embittered nature; that is already pretty obvious. She isn’t happy. Dan said she’s always been this way, which is even sadder.  How long can someone function just being a ball of resentment? It’s so sad.  I do have some measure of relief over all this. I don’t have to smile and fake it anymore.  If I see her again, I won’t hold any bars. And if I don’t, oh well. 

Evolution explained in simple terms

I am an atheist. I have pronounced this fact numerous times throughout the history of this blog, and I am a strong supporter of the idea of scientific process, evidence and the validity of the theory of evolution.

Every once in a while, I hear this come up:

:::DERRRP::: "Well... if we came from monkeys, how come there are still monkeys?"

All this phrase does is reveal with no small measure of embarrassment on the behalf of the speaker, that they are completely ignorant. It is the dumbest thing to say.  They should be ashamed for being so willfully stupid.

So, I have created this primer that can somehow explain to these people in the simplest of terms, the concept of common ancestry.  Although the reality of this is much more complex, and the trees branched much more than once, it hopefully can fire up those underused grey matter cells and maybe teach someone a little something.

Oh, and again a note to all: this blog is not a place for debate. It is my autocracy. Trolls will be deleted. Maybe you can pray for me to change my ways. See if that works.  In the meantime, do not post divisive language here, I will delete it before a single person can read it. It will be a waste of your time.  And trust me, all the ire and rage and threats of hellfire and damnation in the world isn't going to make me change my mind. Only evidence will.  Enjoy.