The status quo is unacceptable. We have a room full of rich fucking white men deciding the fates of everyone who ISN'T a rich fucking white man. A bunch of entitled pricks who everyone says think they know better what we need than we do.
But here's the thing: They KNOW that what they're doing is harmful. Let's stop pretending their intentions are altruistic. Let's stop pretending this is about anything more than power and money. It isn't that they think they know better than we (and our doctors) do--It's that they legitimately don't give a shit about what we need. What they want is FAR more important than what we need. What they want is to have all of the money and all of the power, and for women and PoC and poor people and queers to literally serve them or die. (We queers are in the "or die" category, except for the hot women, who need to have the queerness raped out of them.)
It's really not that difficult a concept. Some things shouldn't be joked about. It isn't because I'm One Of Those Feminists with no sense of humor, it's because joking about things normalizes them. And honestly, that's dangerous.
So let's try to dumb it down a little.
Don't make fun of people who can be hurt by it.
Now I'm not talking about 45 getting his feelings hurt about a television comedian making rude comments about his mouth's relationship with Putin's hairy manhood. He'll make poop-tweets about how he's being treated unfairly, and try to violate the First Amendment by censoring said comedian, but at the end of the day, he's still shitting on a golden throne that shoots warm water up his oddly pale arse so he doesn't have to worry about cleaning himself. On his private jet. Which he's taking to his golf resort. On the taxpayers' dime.
Make fun of the politicians. Make fun of the 1%. Make fun of the pe…
I know, I've been neglectful again. Like Silent Bob, I only speak when I feel it's truly important. I hope that this means that you take my words a little more seriously, when I do speak.
Recently, I've fallen into the deepest, most crippling depression I've ever experienced. At least that I'm aware of. (There WAS that one summer that I don't remember. But who knows what I was like then?) I mean it's bad. When I say "crippling," I mean that it's hard to function in the most basic ways--Feeding myself, bathing myself, getting out of bed. You know. Socializing and working tax me more than I knew was possible. I've recently started suffering "crashes" after extended periods of being in a good mood. After the happy activity ends, I feel myself start to deflate. If the crash is bad enough, it results in me curled up somewhere in my underwear (How did that happen? I don't even remember getting undressed!) crying for l…