Category Archives: sad things

Trump adds anti-semite to his merry band of bigots

I was trying not to be fatalistic. Okay, I wasn’t trying super hard. But by Friday I had calmed down a touch and was trying to channel my fear and grief into productivity. I watched Hillary Clinton accept what happened and encourage us to do the same. I watched Barack Obama remind us to stay strong and give our new president-elect a chance. As usual, his words hugged me like a warm sweater, and I, too, was almost ready to give him a chance. (I recognize that the fact that I am unable to type his name here detracts from my claim of full acceptance a touch.) With newfound hope (okay, not exactly hope, more like resignation) I posted this heartwarming message on Facebook:

After watching Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama handle themselves with the grace and dignity we’ve come to expect from them, I’m feeling at least a modicum of the hope that led me to support them in the first place. Neither of them will be our president come January 20, but we can still count on them to lead us by example. And for that I’m grateful.

Then I set up recurring donations to Planned Parenthood and the ACLU.

So I was pretty proud of how maturely I was handling all this. So my candidate didn’t win. So we’d have, at the very best, a loose canon with no political experience in office for the next four years. Four years will fly by! Actually, no, it won’t, because that takes me to 32.

Then Trump decided to drive a giant tractor through my newfound peace.

This week, charming anti-semite/wife-beater Stephen Bannon entered our lives. Doesn’t he sound mild, like yogurt? His name rhymes with Dannon; that’s why I thought of that. He will be Trump’s chief strategist and senior adviser, while Reince “This is my name and I’m sticking to it” Priebus will be his chief of staff. I’m going to set aside my dislike of Priebus and his name for a second, because compared to Lord Bannon, he is like a precious downy baby duckling.

During his reign at Breitbart, which is basically a website full of Trump adoration porn (check it out–you’ll see what I mean), the “news” site spewed some truly memorable quotes:

“Bill Kristol: Republican Spoiler, Renegade Jew”

“Political Correctness Protects Muslim Rape Culture”

“Birth Control Makes Women Unattractive and Crazy”

There are some that are far more hateful, but I just can’t retype them.

There is also a picture of Planned Parenthood founder Margaret Sanger doctored with a Hitler mustache. Wow, those guys at Breitbart really know their way around Photoshop.

So yeah. He seems like a stand-up fellow. By the way, Bannon is a father. He has daughters.

Additionally, Bannon’s ex-wife accused him of physical abuse, including grabbing her by the neck and pulling her into a car. I say “accused” because the case was dismissed, but I’m ready to take sides in this one.

I can’t wait to see whom Trump selects next for his really stellar administration. I’m seeing David Duke as Secretary of State. Just as long as he stores his email properly. Apparently that’s the number one priority in that position.

It makes so much sense that Brock Turner’s father raised him

By now, you’ve probably heard about scum-on-the-earth Stanford swimmer’s horrifying father’s plea for leniency for Brock Turner, a young man who underwent the trying ordeal of having raped a woman behind a dumpster after a frat party. (If you haven’t read it, here it is via The Guardian.) I kind of hate that I just called him a Stanford swimmer, because he’s a rapist first.

You may also know about the Turner Family Support Fund Facebook page, which solicited donations for the defense of their son against the violent rape he committed. Not being a parent myself, I can’t speak to what I would do in this situation. I guess you have to keep loving your child, even if that child is a rapist. But you don’t have to ask other people for money to support him. Nor do you have to feel sorry for him because he can’t enjoy a steak and only got “20 minutes of action” out of raping someone.

I wonder if the rapist’s father would feel better if it had taken longer to rape his victim. (Side note: I’m pretty sure he has no actual idea how long the rape lasted.)

How does his mother feel about all this? As noted above, I’m sure she has to keep loving him, but that doesn’t mean she has to be proud of him. I sincerely hope she’s not proud of him.

“I’ve been shattered by the party culture and risk taking behavior that I briefly experienced in my four months at school,” the rapist said in his blame-game statement. Really great use of the passive voice. Your high school English teacher must be proud. I guess it was the abstract “party culture” that violently raped a woman, and subsequently made you the victim of its evil pull.

“These things force me to never want to put myself in a position where I have to sacrifice everything.” First of all, that statement offends the victim. Secondly, it offends the English language, because what? I’m really sorry about the sacrifices you had to make in order to rape someone.

I can’t respond to this any better than the victim herself did. If you haven’t read her statement to Brock, please read it in full here.

In summary, The Onion said it best with this amazing video from 2011.

Wistful yearnings of a Yelp reviewer

I was on Yelp looking for a bar to pass time before my class tonight, when I came across this review. I felt so bad for this poor guy.

One Saturday night, I was feeling depressed. I was tired of spending Saturday nights alone watching stupid YouTube videos. I was also upset at the fact that I’m 31 and I still live with my parents, while almost everyone I know has their own place. In order to get over my misery, I hung out with my two best friends, Bud and Light.

This is a run-of-the-mill bar. There’s nothing special about it. It’s small and cramped.There wasn’t that much to do other than to watch TV or joke around with your friends. Practically all of the patrons were white (not that I have a problem with that). The bartenders were cool. I had two drinks while I watched a Mets game (there was nothing else on). I didn’t have anything to eat so I can’t comment about that. .

I didn’t come here with the intention of meeting women (although that would’ve been nice). I just came to pass the time. I neither liked nor disliked this bar.

Granted, maybe Yelp isn’t as appropriate an outlet for this as, say, his therapist’s office. But it seems like Yelp is all he has. It’s kind of like how I feel about my credit score. It’s all I have, and it’s really, really special to me.

Upon further investigation, I discovered that this individual has also reviewed such establishments as Brooklyn and Queens (for all you non-New Yorkers, I am indeed referring to the Burroughs; these are not some new hipster establishments).

He really likes Kmart, his local music store, and his physical therapist “who speaks in a fake American accent;” Newark Light Rail, not so much. Let’s take a look at what he had to say about that:

Many people think that Newark is a ghetto, crime-infested city. However, I recently began an unpaid internship at a legal aid organization in downtown Newark. After walking around the area, I realized that there are actually nice parts of Newark. With that said, I decided that I wanted to check out Branch Brook Park. I’d heard that it’s the New Jersey version of Central Park. Today, I headed to the park. I fucking regret it.

I got on the train at Newark Penn Station. The inside of the train was relatively clean and the riders behaved themselves. However, I noticed that several of the underground stops were desolate and dimly lit. Someone could get raped or robbed in those stations. The ride was pretty fast- it only took about 20 minutes to get to Branch Brook Park.

I got off at the station and walked to the park. I wanted to see the cherry blossoms but I came a few weeks too soon. I was very disappointed. I headed back to the station and waited for the train back to Newark Penn. And then that’s when things went from bad to worse. I was about to lean on a pole when I noticed that it said ,”Danger: High Voltage”. I quickly got away. I was scared shit. Keep in mind that I was on the platform, not the tracks. Why would NJ Transit have something so dangerous on the platform? I was inches away from being fried to death. Wouldn’t it make sense to have a fence to protect people from something that’s potentially fatal?

A simple train ride to a park nearly turned into a ride to the cemetery.

Just a quick reminder that David Bowie and Alan Rickman were not personal friends of yours

Guys. It’s very sad that Alan Rickman passed away this week. It’s also sad that David Bowie passed away the same week. But please remember that they are celebrities. You did not know them personally. They are not your mom or your boyfriend. You admired their acting and music respectively. You did not share mimosas and tater tots with them on the reg. So when you post “I FUCKING HATE THIS WEEK” on Facebook and Twitter, please bear in mind that your life is not going to change because these two individuals are no longer part of it. They were never part of it.

Also, it’s not a strange twist of fate that they died during the same week. It’s not even a coincidence. They actually had nothing to do with each other, just like they had nothing to do with you. Lots of people you never knew die in the same year, month, week, even day.

Obviously it is not up to me to forbid you to collectively mourn. But please remember that this week is what you make it to be. You can still live your life minus one great musician and one great actor.

(Apologies to any of my Facebook friends who did, indeed, consider these two individuals close personal friends.)

I went on a dog adoption site because I am a masochist

So after reading about a pet adoption site styled like an online dating app in The Daily Dot, I went on the site,, took the matching quiz, and fell deeply in love with my matches. This is all for naught because

  1. I live in New York and don’t have space or a backyard
  2. My commute to work is about 45 minutes so I can’t come home to walk said dog
  3. My apartment doesn’t allow pets
  4. My roommate is allergic

That said, I really, really want a puppy. Guys, there’s one who’s cocking his head and staring at me mournfully all “please love me.” I get you, dude. Don’t we all just want to be loved? His foster mom describes him as “friendly, loyal, cuddly, and smart.” I am all those things, too! We would be BEST FRIENDS.

Anyway, if you want a puppy and have the means to support and house one, check out this site. If you want the puppy and don’t have the appropriate resources, stay away, because you will end up crying in the bathroom at work like I did.

Stepford American Girl has arrived
People says: “Larkin, whose story is set in 1954, is a strawberry blonde who loves to draw – and yes, she comes with plenty of era-appropriate outfits, including a poodle skirt.” I just threw up in my mouth.

The latest American Girl is here, and her name is Maryellen Larkin, and I can’t. First of all, she is nine years old and wearing pearls. Secondly, her crocheted cardigan matches her crocheted handbag. Again, she’s nine.

I’m glad that they’re throwing the “Be Forever” collection a bone, because I do miss the early (better) days of American Girl. But you know what the world doesn’t need? A doll training for her M.R.S. That’s all I see in this chick.  I’m sure her mother Mrs. Biff Larkin is teaching her how to make a nice meatloaf to please her man, so she’ll be all set to wife it up when she turns nineteen. And she’ll learn how to set that table righty-oh in finishing school.

Did I mention the pearls?

Good thing I wasn’t popular in middle school

According to a New York Times article about a new study published in Child Development, the kids who were cool in middle school are now losers in their early twenties. I realize we’re talking about people four years younger than I am, but it does lead me to wonder/fantasize: Is the reverse true? I was a certified loser in middle school, so does this mean I’m totally killing it now?

Pretty sure no. But to be fair, there’s probably a separate category for ladies who went to all-girls Quaker schools like I did.

I have a lot of feelings

The PATH has a very specific odor. Last year, I had a boyfriend who lived in New Jersey, so I spent a fair amount of time smelling that smell, which is not terrible; it just kind of exists.

When I passed the entrance at 14th Street recently, I smelled that smell, and I thought about him. For a couple minutes, I cried. (If you don’t live in New York, you should know that it’s not that unusual to see people walking along a busy street with tears streaming down their faces, so nobody really looked up. This is a city where a clown dressed in drag riding a bicycle with plastic flowers on the handlebars once told me I was pretty, and it totally made my day because who doesn’t like to hear that they’re pretty? And my friend from out of town was like, “What was that?” And I was like, “You think it’s weird that he said I was pretty? Do you not think I’m pretty?”)

Anyway, I wondered what he was doing, and if he ever thinks about me. (The ex-boyfriend, not the clown. The clown probably doesn’t think about me.) Usually I don’t miss him, but sometimes I do. Now that it’s summer, when things were good and right, I think about him a little more.

I’m getting angry

Excuse the multiple posts in one day, but today I saw something so horrifying, so completely despicable, that I had to take to the internet with my fury.

Oreo “Thins” (quotes mine) are something that are about to exist.
Today Food thinks this a good thing (

There are some things in this world that have come to be accepted as a given. The sun is bigger than the earth. Climate change is real, and humans are responsible for it. And, of course, the filling is the only point to an Oreo.

Double Stuf is really the only kind that matters, except when mint is available. Really, they need to make a Double Stuf Mint variety, but I do understand that I’m in the minority as someone who loves chocolate mint. But I refuse to believe there is anyone who thinks Oreos can be improved by cutting back on the stuf. Except, apparently, the author of the above Today Food post. But if you’re not an Oreo person to begin with, you don’t deserve an opinion. Of course you’re just going to like something that includes less Oreo if you don’t like Oreos.

These cookies of betrayal can hardly even be called cookies. They’re fake cookies. Fookies, if you will.

I will know I have hit rock bottom when I start shopping for clothes at Rite Aid

This just makes me sad. I was at Rite Aid the other day and walked by the center aisle, where there was a whole display of ugly clothes. Not Halloween costumes or anything, just regular clothes. The highlight was a pink bubble shirt.

If you don’t know what a bubble shirt is, you probably weren’t a middle school girl in 2001 like I was. They were all the rage for about thirty seconds, highly coveted in the tween set, and I did not have one. But by god did I want one.
Like this one, only pink. Don’t worry, guys, Amazon still sells them.

I guess I never realized how ugly they were. And I guess Rite Aid never realized that nobody has worn them in fourteen years.

Anyway, this is a just a sad fact of life that apparently people shop for clothes at Rite Aid. Like, lemme pick up an outfit that will go with my deodorant. Damn will I look fine and totally like an adult in that bubble top.