Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

Dear Whiny C*nt, MOVE ON

Woke up to another MAGAt using my inbox as his personal toilet.

His missive began with: Dear Whiny C*nt (I provide the asterisk for you.  He was not so circumspect.)

His message to me had to do with my recent pieces written about my experience as a sexual assault victim, and my take on the past two weeks of the Kavanaugh hearings.

I was given the same predictably misspelled, grammatically challenged offerings that seem to be the hallmark of a Trump loving Keyboard Commando.  Cowardly, ignorant, and craven, the message contained the following words, used several times throughout:  "Get over it" and "Move on."

Now, while I long ago gave up responding via email to those with whom any discussion would be as productive as asking my cats to cook dinner, I do have something to say to him and his equally dim cohorts here.

My rape took place 36 years ago.  Here is just some of what I have done since...

I went home, bathed, wrote in my diary, went to bed.  Moving on.

I got up and went to school, day after day, sharing the same locker banks, classes, hallways with my attacker.  Moving on.

I graduated with great grades, got into a Big 10 school.  I moved on.

I got good jobs, working at great places, with great people.  I was promoted.  Moving on.

I fell in love.  I fell out of love.  I fell in love again.  I moved on.

I moved to another state, got another wonderful job.  I moved on.

I got married.  I got pregnant.  I moved on.

I lost that baby.  I was devastated. I moved on.

I got pregnant again.  Her name is Culley.  I moved on.

We lost everything in a hurricane and ended up in a new city living in a hotel.  I moved on.

I made friends.  I made two more children - Kendall and Toby.  I moved on.

I started a cake business and was very successful.  I moved on.

We moved repeatedly as my husband moved up the ladder in his industry.  I moved on.

I developed an eating disorder, weighing 93 pounds as an adult with 3 children.  I battled it, found health, and moved on.

I became a writer - my words being published in countries around the world, in magazines, in books.  I moved on.

I made repeated appearances on TV shows.  I moved on.

We moved to more new places.  I moved on.

We lived apart for 10 years and 3 months so my husband could continue advancing in his career and our children could finally put down roots.  I moved on.

Trump proudly bragged about grabbing some pussy.  I took a deep breath, sat down, and wrote my story - then 34 years since it happened.  I moved on.

My child bravely stepped forward as transgender.  My focus, my protection, my every breath went to him - his life, living it fully, freely.  I moved on.

My three children have all made shifts of their own to new places, new adventures, new challenges.  I have helped them, supported them.  I moved on.

I now finally live with my husband in a new place.  I have adjusted, integrated, moved on.

Since my rape, I have done nothing but move on, get on with the business of living, raising my family, experiencing this world, this life, much love.

But hear me now, YOU whiny c*nt - I will never GET OVER having been assaulted, nor will I be quiet about it any longer.  It, every second of it, is a memory that is attached to my soul with the Super Glue of horror, confusion, panic, fear, and grief.  The young girl I was when it happened?  She is frozen in time, carried within me, chained to me, forced to move on with me.

She is also forced to watch as misogynists mock the pain of millions like me who have been taken, used, discarded.  She is the anger in my heart, the screaming in my head as our politicians pay lip service to us, elevating yet another privileged, entitled, self important man despite mounting evidence that he is not who he wants the world to believe he is.  We all recognize that face - it is the face of a man used to taking and getting what he wants, who is having his sovereignty threatened.  That is not a measured, thoughtful, rational Justice.  That is a spoiled, stunted, self important bully.

I am now 52 years old.  Like every survivor who relearns to smile, tries to live in the moment, focus on joy, and still carries hope inside - I have moved on.  My every success, my three amazing children, my incredible marriage to a man who knows the broken pieces, but loves me MORE because of them - all testament to the fact that I MOVED ON.

As for your advice to "get over it"?  I will tell you what I am over, what we are all over - being afraid of cowardly, misogynistic blowhards like you.

But then I have a sneaking suspicion that is exactly what you, Trump, and the Kavanaughs of this world are now worried about, why you thrash, bellow, spit, strike out. 

Poor thing, take some advice: MOVE ON or get plowed under.  Doesn't matter which.  We are done with you.

Sincerely,

An Empowered Whiney C*nt 

Snake In The Grassley

There is something hideously poetic about slithering Senator Chuck Grassley, a fixture during the heinous treatment of Anita Hill during her testimony about Clarence Thomas, being the head viper in the heinous treatment of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford during her testimony about Brett Kavanaugh.

Age has not educated him.  The years have not opened his eyes.  If anything, he is nothing more than the caricature of the old man screaming "Get offa my lawn!"  Only he is in a position to do more than shake a fist at mischievous tweens.  He is in the position of actively attacking a sexual assault survivor, and by extension, the millions of sexual assault survivors watching.

His glee in what is nothing more than an emotional re-raping of millions is sickening.

As I commented earlier on FB, awake in the middle of the night, I found my way to the opening statement Dr. Ford would be making to the committee.  Pure text, black and white, it still made tears sting my eyes.  This morning, while watching her read the statement, I was not prepared for the anxiety, fear, trembling, and nausea.

Hers and mine.

I am embarrassed to say I was even less prepared for the treatment she would endure by the Republican faction on the judicial committee.  I should know better.  They proudly wear their misogyny 365 days a year.

The rage I wrote of yesterday?  What I feel, what I know millions of others are feeling now, could power the Titanic furnaces straight through the iceberg.

It is shameful.  Hiding behind a female prosecutor (Rachel Miller), a la Aunt Lydia in Handmaid's Tale, because they could not trust themselves to ask their own questions without being misogynist pricks.  Trying anything to turn her memories and testimony into Swiss cheese.  And Grassley, hissing at every turn because he was being loudly, directly called out by Democrats?  Well, Chuck, you certainly did not help your side.

While watching her answer questions, I also watched as comments rolled in a Live Stream.  This country may not be saturated with malcontents, rape apologists, and complete pieces of shit with eyes, but there are enough of them, happily typing out their own forms of assault to feel their sickly weight.   The Cowardly Keyboard Commandos - threatening Ford, Ramirez, Swetnick, other commenters, you name it.

I particularly enjoyed their desperate attacks on Ford's answers that used big words, an understanding of how a brain works, how memories are stored, how traumas attach themselves.  SHE'S A DOCTOR OF PSYCHOLOGY, you feeble minded halfwits.  I have news for you.  My daughter is 24 years old.  She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in psychology.  She is currently enrolled at Harvard getting her Master's.  She will go on to earn her own PhD.  She speaks in these big words, too.  She understands how a brain operates, knows the clinical, correct terms for areas of the brain, behaviors and how they are formed, informed. 

It's called education.  It is not a party trick.  And your inability to understand, your eagerness to demonize?  It speaks to your stupidity, not against their intelligence.

Grassley did no favors for himself, his fellow misogynistic committee members, or his Hefty Bag In Chief.  And he certainly did not help Kavanaugh.  The bottom line here is there is no reason other than his obstruction for not requesting an FBI investigation.  There are now multiple women and men who have stepped forward about Kavanaugh, about his character, his behaviors, and his attacks.  There is no Constitutional time limit on getting a nominee voted upon.  I do believe the words Merrick and Garland put paid to any notion of that.

The only clock they are up against is the one ticking ever closer to the midterms - they all can see the writing on the wall.  Their hold on power grows more tenuous every day, and consolidating it is all they care about.

To them, and all the Armchair Warriors hiding behind your computers, enjoy your ignorance.  Your words, your accusations, your threats are born of a privilege of not knowing, of never having been attacked.  And while it would be very easy to wish personal, painful knowledge to come your way, I won't.  Yes, I believe in karma, but I also know my story, the stories of my friends, and I would not wish these horrors on anyone.  Not even you.  Just know they are real, they are lasting.  You may not see the scars, feel the memories seared into our souls, or understand our silence, but then we do not need your approval, your empathy.  We have each other.  We are stronger together, and we only grow stronger with each jab, demonization, slur, and threat.

Bravery is contagious.  This is the saying repeated by Senator Patrick Leahy to Dr. Ford this morning.  He is right.  Evidence of this is everywhere as more and more victims step into the light of truth, finding their voice and sharing their stories of assault.  That Dr. Blasey Ford and all the others who have stepped up about Kavanaugh have absolutely ZERO to gain and everything to lose, yet did it anyway?  That speaks loudly to the world - not just those of us who know sexual assault firsthand, but all those being confided in by their friends, mothers, daughters, sons.  We cannot be drowned out.

Not even by a snake like Grassley. 

Raging (at the) Bull(shit) - There Must Be a TKO of the GOP in November

As is the case with countless victims of sexual assault, the past two weeks have not been easy to navigate.  From aspersions being cast, to the Senate Majority Leader literally calling Dr. Blasey Ford a liar on the Senate floor, the feelings that have been released are muddled and myriad.

I lay in bed a couple nights ago trying to talk more of this out as my husband listened, struggling with his own array of emotional fallout because he cannot make any of it stop.  He can no more protect me from what goes on inside my head as he can from what happened to me 36 years ago.  So he listens.

I rambled about it playing on a loop in my head.  How I can still, to this day, feel the seatbelt clasp digging into my shoulder.  I talked about trying to place it on a spectrum in my head - as if that is possible - because I know that my rape, compared to so many, was brief.  It was the grab, the action, the threats, and then being tossed out.  For others there is so much more. 

I talked about how one of my dearest friends endured horrors I cannot even begin to imagine.  How death was an imminent possibility.  How there was damage, so much damage on so many levels.  How, while I know she would never marginalize my experience against hers, I cannot help but do it to myself.  Maybe because it is how my brain still tries to make it "not so bad" by reminding myself of how BAD bad can be.

No matter.  While there is a spectrum of bad for this like so many other things in life, rape is rape.  It is an act of violence, of possession, of stripping someone of their autonomy, their personhood, their dignity.  It is a taking without permission.  It is being treated like garbage, and tossed aside as the same.

Staring into the dark, I tried to explain the anger that has been building.  Yes, of course anger that it happened.  That has been alive and kicking for 36 years.  But this is more.  Bigger.  This is rage.  This is a fury born of watching, listening as not only Dr. Blasey Ford, but survivor after survivor has come forward with their stories, only to be scoffed at, disbelieved, called liars.

Watching GOP women be interviewed and defend the actions attributed to Kavanaugh with bullshit such as this, "Tell me, what boy hasn’t done this in high school?”

What the actual fuck?  Are you serious?  There are millions of boys in high school right now who have no intent of trying to corner, rape, cover the mouth of a young girl.  There are millions more who have gone through their high school years without a single assault in their records.  I am angry on behalf of all the young men who were literally written off as potential rapists by these pathetic excuses for women, for mothers.

I see redder every time another person writes off rape because we did not report it when it happened.  Rationalizing that it must not have been "that bad."  The orange BLOTUS tweeted this very thing about Blasey Ford's accusation.  Listen up - 63% of sexual assaults are not reported.  

This notion that there must be broken bones, bloodied lips, black eyes, uncontrollable screaming or crying for it to be SEXUAL ASSAULT?  Get over that now.  Rape and the reaction of the assaulted comes in every possible variant.  Crying?  Sure.  But we may also be numb, mute.  Bruises and blood?  Absolutely.  Or not.  And no matter how it went down or how one is responding, IT IS ALL BAD.  IT IS A VIOLATION.  IT IS A TRAUMA.  IT IS ASSAULT.

One in five women and one in 71 men will be raped at some point in their lives.  Do you understand what this means?  It means whether you are aware of it or not, been confided in or not, YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN SEXUALLY ASSAULTED.  Chances are, you know many people who are forever chained to a horrific violation, an act against them that changed them. 

Forever.

I reached out to my friend to check on her.  I figured if this is the place I find myself, than I must not be alone.  I'm not.  Despite the miles of horror that separate our rape experiences, she is in the same place - "white hot rage."

That same rage directed at the legislators who have already scheduled Kavanaugh's vote despite Dr. Ford being scheduled to appear before them on Thursday; despite there now being multiple women having stepped forward with accounts of his behavior towards them and others;  despite these women being supported by men who knew him and how he behaved.

Fury directed at each and every person who laughs at our stories, minimizes our trauma, shits on our bravery in finally finding our voices.  

I am angry for every young girl burdened with a father currently defending Trump (who admits to sexual assault, and has a cadre of women who have stepped forward with their stories about him), defending Kavanaugh (boys will be boys - good luck with that when your little girl is the next victim).  I am infuriated at the stupidity Kavanaugh believes we will buy - his FOX interview in which he points at his calendars from high school and his virginity as being reasons he could not have done this.

Sidenote for Kavanaugh - priests take vows of chastity for life.  They also touch, rape, pillage, and terrorize. 

I am enraged because despite the mounting accusations and evidence, the GOP refuses to put forth a different nominee.  As if this is the best they have got, or worse, they simply do not give a shit other than getting a NO ROE vote on the SCOTUS.

I am sickened and beyond horrified at this morning's latest addition to this dumpster fire: Julie Swetnick, who holds multiple government clearances, came forward with her sworn declaration about not only seeing Kavanaugh and his buddy Judge lined up at repeated house parties to take their turns gang raping helpless, drugged girls, but her story of being one of those girls.

I am especially galled at the apologists who have lined up to make Ford's assault something less than what it was.  (And the line of naysayers about Swetnick has started in earnest as well.)

Stephen Miller of FOX News blew it off with "it was drunk teenagers playing seven minutes of heaven."

John Cardillo called it a "non crime."

Megan McArdle waved it off with the notion that people did not take this kind of thing seriously when Kavanaugh was in high school.  ( I was raped in high school, Megan.  I took it very seriously.  Or maybe it is more accurate to say IT TOOK ME VERY SERIOUSLY and has never let go.)

Megyn Kelley defended it with this gem, “Maybe he blew her off.”  Yes, Megyn, he blew her off and that stayed with her for so long and so deeply that she confided in a therapist about what happened to her.  Turn in your ovaries, Megyn, or go back to FOX, most of us women are not Glenn Close from Fatal Attraction.

And the anger I feel at this mindset, attributed to a White House attorney?  “If somebody can be brought down by accusations like this, then you, me, every man certainly should be worried. We can all be accused of something.”

I have news for you - if you don't have a history of being an entitled piece of shit, belonging to things like Kavanaugh's fraternity's Tit and Clit Club, treating women as chattel, or sexually assaulting someone, you don't have much to worry about.  This bullshit notion put forth by legislators that no Republican can be voted onto the court now?  That this is just 11th hour politicking by Democrats?  Um, Gorsuch ring a bell?  He was voted onto the SCOTUS, no accusations, and Democrats did give him some votes.

The anger builds with every story I read from brave men and women who are finding strength in numbers, a strength that empowers them to finally share their own story.  From millions with no face or fame to celebrities stepping forward - sharing our stories helps.  It can never unring the bell, never give back what was taken, never unchain us from the broken person left stunted inside us - but it does give us community.  It lets us see we are not alone - not in what happened, how we responded, how it has followed us all our lives.

My friend and I are not alone in our mounting anger.  And while anger alone may not make any difference in Kavanaugh's vote on Friday, where it can make a difference is at the polls.  There has been much talk about a Blue Wave, a tsunami taking out the power of the GOP.  But what we are seeing build alongside it now is a red hot lava flow of anger.  

For their every word of derision, every call of LIAR, every marginalization of what we have endured, their goal is clear.  They do not care who they hurt.  So whether these cretins are drowned by a wave or burned up by a fire, I do not care.  They simply must be eradicated. 

They do not get to rape us again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can read Julie Swetnick's declaration below.  Click on each thumbnail for large version.

This Is Sexual Assault

It takes moments, but steals lifetimes.

As days move forward, a part of you never does.

Chained, anchored, paralyzed in place.

You breathe in, you breathe out - an involuntary act that keeps you alive. Well, most of you.

You perfect silence, denial, a smile, a face you show the world.

To the outside you appear strong, confident, maybe even successful. There are days, maybe weeks when you do not let it cross your mind. You’ve got this.

Until.

Until a sound, a smell, a comment, a news story pulls the trigger on your trauma and the tsunami strikes.

You flounder, you flail, you rage, you weep as the flash flood of those moments threatens to drown you, pull you under.

Because who you were when it happened - and everything you lost, endured, had stolen - is forever chained to who you have tried to become.

There is no escape.

This is sexual assault.

(Special thanks to Toby Sharp for helping capture what happens every 98 seconds. The moments that last the lifetime.)

The Kavanaugh Accusation: Pulling The Trigger

Like everyone else with a disdain for the level of hypocrisy Republicans have elevated to an art form, I have been infuriated as I watched the farce that is the Kavanaugh hearing.  The hiding of hundreds of thousands of documents from review; the obvious rush to get this man into a robe because he will tilt the bench and protect Trump; and the GOPers who have zero compunction whatsoever about facing a camera and calling Democrats obstructionist - Merrick Garland ring a bell, Mitch?

We have an Oval occupier who is under investigation on MANY fronts, and is an unindicted co-conspirator.  McConnell and his coven refused to even allow a hearing on Garland because it was during President Obama's last year in office.  They grandstanded that bullshit as if it were precedent or law.  It was not, it is not.  Yet here they are, masturbating over Kavanaugh being nominated to a lifetime spot on the highest court in the land by someone who has been in full criminal-grift mode his entire life and is currently under investigation. 

Despite grilling, protestations, and concerns by sitting Democrats, this appointment has all but been guaranteed.  Sure, the likes of Collins and Murkowski and Flake may grandstand on Twitter, but in the end they always fall into lockstep with their party - the good of the country, the promises of her equality be damned.

But then last week, a letter came to light.  A letter written by someone who laid out her attack when a high school student by Kavanaugh.  It had been funneled to Dianne Feinstein (D) by the accuser's congresswoman.  This was July 30th.  The letter was handed off to the FBI only last week when it began being spoke of in DC and the media.

Feinstein's office is said to have told other Dems that "the incident was too old to merit public discussion."  But as it leaked out, her office released this statement Friday, “The Senator took these allegations seriously and believed they should be public. However, the woman in question made it clear she did not want this information to be public. It is critical in matters of sexual misconduct to protect the identity of the victim when they wish to remain anonymous, and the senator did so in this case.”  

The criticism poured forth from both sides.  Predictably, Republicans cried "11th hour!" and "Conspiracy!"  Dems called out the decision to simply sit on the letter and give it no credence.  

Then, in some David Copperfieldian magic trick, less than 24 hours after the letter came to light, GOPers produced a letter from 65 women claiming to have known Kavanaugh back in the day and attesting to his character.

I call hard and heavy, assripping bullshit on that one.  He attended an all-boys prep school for starters.  And while that doesn't preclude knowing girls, it does limit the pool.  As for finding SIXTY FIVE of them within 24 hours and getting them to not only remember him, but vouch for him?  Give me a break.  I couldn't remember the names of, much less track down, 65 people I attended high school with.  (For the record, back in July, after he was nominated, a raft of former fellow Yale students signed onto a public letter calling him "morally bankrupt" and citing example after example of his danger anywhere near the SCOTUS.)

Of course, the weekend heated up, as did the online trolling of this woman and her story.  So many writing it off as never happening, or if it did, it was just teens fooling around.  And predictably, the tired line of "why did she wait so long to say something?"

And so was born a new round of triggering.  

After watching coverage Friday night, and feeling my blood pressure and indignation rise in equal amounts, I went to bed.  And I knew.  I knew it would happen.  And it did.  Around 430am, I bolted upright in bed, panting, frightened, fresh off reliving my high school rape in another nightmare.

Because it never goes away.

All Saturday, I went through my day in a haze.  The feeling of a hangover, where no alcohol had been involved.  A hangover of memories, of fear, of pain, of confusion.  And my anger grew all weekend.  

I have not been alone.  There is an odd kind of comfort in knowing you are not an island in something.  Reading accounts from so many women who are experiencing the same things, being triggered in the same way, and feeling the need to defend how they had handled, internalized, hid their experiences offers, at the very minimum, a sense of community, of knowing someone else understands the murky waters in which I swim.

And then, yesterday afternoon, there it was - BREAKING NEWS.  Not only had Professor Christine Blasey Ford stepped forward to The Washington Post as the writer of the letter, she had the receipts, as it were.  Therapist's notes from back in 2012, long before Kavanaugh's name was known nationally.  A lie detector test administered by a former FBI agent, which she passed.  And details.

Reading them, I went cold.  Her assault happened roughly the same year and time as mine.  She was caught, cornered, held down.  She feared for her life.  He laughed, as did his equally drunk ass friend, Mark Judge - someone who has gone on to be an even bigger piece of shit in adulthood.  Thankfully she was able to get free, lock herself in a bathroom, and escaped the party.  She did not tell her parents.  She was afraid she would get in trouble.

To anyone who wants to quibble with that part?  FUCK OFF.  ALL THE WAY OFF.  I did not tell my parents either.  When I finally told my mother, only because I thought I was pregnant, I could not even speak the words.  I handed her my diary.  And as I wrote here back in 2016:

Her response was, in retrospect, largely generational.  And I stress I do not hold her responsible in any way here.  We are all formed by the times we are born in and live through.  The response was to be quiet, we could not even let my dad know.  So we went on acting like it never happened because WE DID NOT WANT TO MAKE IT WORSE.

Thankfully I started my period and simply moved through the days and years.  What followed were shame spirals, questionable behavior, eating disorders, cold rages, dark thoughts.  But  never again speaking of it.

That part about Christine being scared?  That's real.  My mom didn't mean, "Don't let your dad know" in a He'll-kill-him kind of way.  She meant it in a He'll-kill-you kind of way.   So I ate my feelings, I avoided my rapist in the halls, and moved through one day to the next, never again speaking about it.   

Until I did, here, October 14, 2016.  So triggered by the Trump "grab them by the pussy" and his victims being written off, disbelieved, called whores, I finally took a breath, came forward, and told my story.  Yes, my family - my husband, my sister, my children, found out by reading about it.  Somehow vomiting it into text made it easier to get it out.

Since then I have done therapy, railed against the fates, had explosions of emotion that Rudy absorbs and then holds me until the storm passes.  I am 52.  This happened to me when I was 16.  Do the math - that's 36 years since it happened.  But it still lives on.  The memory was inflicted, and it will never go away.  As I have explained to Rudy, could my body accommodate what happened to me then?  Yes.  But my heart, my soul, my psyche, my spirit could not.  Something was taken against my will.  A piece of me.  No, not some notion of virginity, something bigger.  My autonomy, my decision making, my CHOICE.

Professor Blasey did not want to go public initially.  Having seen what happens to women who speak up, she decided, “Why suffer through the annihilation if it’s not going to matter?” 

But watching her story being bandied about in the media, social media, and reading Kavanaugh's complete denial of it happening, she decided to put her face and name on the record.  I am heartened that the outpouring of support exceeds the shitful MAGAts and rape apologists.  Take a two minute walk through Twitter and we are there, sharing our stories, standing with her, backing her fully.

(For the record, I am not surprised if he doesn't remember.  I doubt I ever cross my attacker's mind.  Ever.  He did it.  There were no consequences.  He moved on.  As opposed to me, who has a part still stuck in the past, reliving it, feeling it soil so much.)

But the trolls take their toll.  It is sickening how casually men (and yes, women) write off sexual assault.  How excuses are made based on Kavanaugh's age at the time (17).  How rife is the "get over it" mantra directed at people like Christine, like me, perhaps like you.

Yes, it is the hallmark of puberty, high school parties, the teen years to make out.  It is discovery, it is exciting - when both teens are in it together.  It is not "boys being boys" when two trap a 15 year old in a room, cover her mouth, crank up the music to drown out her screams, and attempt to rape her.  That is not making out.  That is a crime.

And as for this "boys being boys" garbage?  What in the ever lovin' are you teaching your boys?  As an adult male, how do you view women?

I have news for you - we owe you nothing.  Whether you are 16 and horny, a pathetic 4Chan incel virgin, or a fifty year old man.  WE. OWE. YOU. NOTHING.

Not our time, our smiles, our attention, our voices.  And absolutely not our bodies.  Your penis is not some monument to be worshipped.  And if it gets hard, it is not some cancer you must deposit in a female or die.  Your balls won't turn blue, they won't back up.  You know what happens to an unrequited erection?

IT GOES AWAY.

Or you can pleasure yourself - your choice.  But at no point does your libido overrule our libiDON'T.   Who the fuck do you think you are to deign to touch, to grope, to take by force? 

Did Kavanaugh do this?  Well, it happened over 30 years ago, but I am going with YES.  She has receipts.  She has therapy dating back far before his name was bandied about by Trump and his minions.  And she has absolutely nothing to gain by speaking out.  NOTHING.

While ranting more yesterday (sorry, Rudy), I ruminated out loud about what I gained by telling my story.  There was no $$ payoff.  It certainly didn't make it unhappen.  The best I can point to is that as much as it still lives inside me, it no longer chokes my voice.  My husband knows.  And so when I explode or get angry, I no longer blame it on something else.  I don't have to hide it.  And when I bolt upright in bed, torn from another reenactment, he knows why.  He holds me close, and waits for the storm to pass.

Christine Blasey Ford gets nothing from this.  This is a kind of exposure that grants infamy, endangers her, her family.  Agreeing to sit in front of the committee and speak doesn't pad her checkbook.  Ask Anita Hill.  She lives everyday with the knowledge of Clarence Thomas being on the Supreme Court for life despite baring her soul, her name, her  face, and her story.  

All she walked away with is knowing she gave voice to the truth.  That is all Christine will take away.  

And because our leaders are blinded by power and money, they will pretend to listen to her, tweet some "thoughts and prayers" bullshit, make murmurs about concerns and their vote - and then go on to confirm Kavanaugh.  

Pulling a trigger that will further echo for decades.

I Remember The Feeling - Revisited

In 1984, Chicago released their album, Chicago 17.  Among the many popular tracks such as Stay The Night, Hard Habit To Break, You're The Inspiration, and Along Comes A Woman sits a lesser played number, but one I woke with in my head this morning as I stared into the dark thinking about what happened to this country 17 years ago.

Remember The Feeling

The title alone speaks to what we are all doing this day.  Remembering.

 
 Remembering the shock and awfulness, the completely surreal images of passenger jets flying into skyscrapers, the horror of watching people on the upper floors - trapped by smoke and heat from a fire so unimaginable - they chose to plummet to their deaths rather than endure one more moment of anguish.

Remembering the sobering images of New Yorkers looking like ash covered zombies as they stumbled away from the devastation in shock, firefighters and bystanders carrying away the body of Chaplain Mychal Judge - recognized as the first victim of 9/11 (not because he perished first, but because his body was the first recovered and taken to the coroner).

 
 
 

 Remembering how for one brief shining moment we were ONE.  United by an attack so monstrous, so diabolical, so full of evil, so bereft of human compassion - that when the towers fell, they also stripped away political affiliations, religions, financial barriers, colors, the tags homo and hetero, bi and trans.

 
And in the wake of the cascading rumble and billowing smoke, all that remained were PEOPLE.

She was a vision I couldn't believe
I held her close so that she wouldn't leave
Suddenly helpless, hopelessly falling in love

In this case, "She" is that feeling we all experienced.  The realization that life was indeed fleeting.  That every moment could be our last.  That there but for the grace of whatever God you worship - go you and I.  

I remember the feeling
I remember the way
She came and wrapped her arms around me
Told me that she cared
Said she'd always be there

And we clung to that feeling.  We wrapped our arms around it, fell in love with one another, cared for one another, desperate to find hope, reassurance, safety in our fellow citizens.  And we told ourselves we would never forget, we would move forward TOGETHER.

Taking me places I've never been
She had the beauty that comes from within
Was I just dreaming, was it too good to be true

We flew flags, our cars were decorated with magnet memorabilia, we wore tshirts commemorating the attack.  Patriotism was the oxygen we breathed.  Loving our fellow man (except for those among us who asshattedly go through life with a huge paintbrush wiping broad strokes of fear and hatred over groups like those of Middle Eastern descent), supporting one another, supporting the families of the victims, holding telethons, holding hands...

Was it too good to be true?

I was a man all alone in the night
She came along and she showed me the light
I was confused then she told me the way
I was alone and I begged her to stay

9/11 was a unifier we will unlikely see again in our lifetimes.  A seminal moment, a touchstone moment - our "I remember where I was when..." moment.  It opened our eyes, it showed us the light.  And while fear was a daily emotion in the aftermath, we were no longer alone, we had each other.  And oh, how we begged it to stay.  It was how we navigated the frightening waters surrounding us, how we took the next breath, how we stood up when we all we really wanted was to curl into the fetal position and cry.  How all it took was two sets of eyes locking to know, to feel, to comfort.

We were not alone.

She was alive I was caught by the fire
She brought emotions that filled my desire
I should have noticed that something was wrong
When I awoke she was gone

But then something happened.  

Time.  Time happened.

Time did what its job is to do.  It forces us forward, further and further away from the intensity of tragedy and loss, helps us heal, grow stronger, and shoves us back into our little lives, back into the minutiae that govern our every waking moment.

And in moving us further and further away from 9/11/01, time allowed we human beings to do what we do so well - clump into packs, name call, label make, point fingers, place blame, and forget.

I should have noticed that something was wrong
When I awoke she was gone

And she is gone, again.

It doesn't matter that today we make all the right noises, that politicians make all the right speeches at all the right locations.  That we pause for a moment and remember what took place that September morning.

It doesn't matter.  Because tomorrow will come and we will still be what we have allowed ourselves to become again over the last ten years.  Petty, bickering, juvenile, disconnected, selfish.

Some wrap themselves in the flag.  Are they more patriotic?  No, they're not.  Some scream the loudest and point the fattest fingers.  Are they right?  No, they're not.  Some hate whole groups of people.  Are they better?  No, they absolutely are not.  And some continually place blame on others.  Are they innocent?  Absolutely not.

In memory of those who woke that morning, boarded a plane, went to work, ran towards the buildings while others ran away - we should not just raise yet another flag - we should hang our heads in shame.

 
We have failed them.  By squandering what we had found, what we had gained as human beings, as a citizenry, as a global family - we have let them down.  

It should not take another mass attack, another unfathomable loss of life, another set of surreal images splashed in blood across our flatscreens to make us open our eyes and realize that we need one another, we ARE one another.

And the first step is simple:  Remember The Feeling.

 

Yes, Virginia - It's Almost That Time Again

We are now a week into September which means roughly three months before our annual Yes, Virginia wish fulfilling will be in full swing, and the last of the gifts will be hitting the mail system to make it in time for Christmas.

I know it's hard to contemplate twinkle lights, stockings, and Santa when it is still reasonably warm outside and there is so much national upheaval front and center 24/7,  but I wanted to start directing your attention back to our Yes, Virginia link.  Back to the spirit of this blogmunity.  Back to what never fails to make us all refocus our attention, refuel our spirits, and remind us that we can make a difference.

Each year your generosity helps keep the heat on, provides food for empty stomachs, boots for chilly feet, and everything from beds to clothing to toys. You literally change lives and remind those in need that the good people DO outnumber the bad.

This year's donating is made easier by the creation of a new DONATE button for Paypal.  You may use it to donate from your own Paypal account or from your choice of debit or credit card.

I will be away for three weeks at the end of October/beginning of November, so would like to get a headstart on Elfing this year.  Please begin to give if you can, and if you know of some children whose Christmas looks in jeopardy, or you need help keeping the spirit alive in your own home, please email me.  The sooner we get started, the more children/families we can include.  (I know many people hate to even think about Christmas before Thanksgiving, but I hope you will think about donating.)

For those who are new to DGMS and not sure what Yes, Virginia is about, or if you'd like a reminder just how amazing this blogmunity is - CLICK HERE.

cOP(out)-ED

I suppose it was intended as a bombshell.  Something revelatory, shocking.  And given the hysteria into which the media was drawn, one might think it was.

The mysterious New York Times op-ed, purportedly from a Senior Trump administration official, in which the writer laid bare the courageous machinations being undertaken on our behalf.  The covert, heroic, superhero-like subterfuge being practiced in order to keep Trump in check.  

In reality, it was nothing we did not already know.

Let's be real.  It was nothing we have not known from the beginning.

Trump is ill equipped, intellectually incurious, racist, and a narcissist drunk on power.

WE KNOW THAT.  Anyone paying even a modicum of attention since the 80s has always known he is a self admitted piece of shit whose only concern is the greater glory of Trump.  Putting him in a position of national, hell, international power only served to ratchet up the demagoguery, embolden his illusions of grandeur, and allow his already morbidly obese ego to gorge even further.

I am sure the person who wrote the piece pictures him/herself as a Clark Kentish figure, hiding behind boxy frames, a sweet smile, a placating attitude.  Sees what he/she is doing as saving the nation.  

Bull and Shit.

What this person is doing, and if to be believed, doing in conjunction with others in the administration, is cowardly.  It is self serving.  It is disgraceful.  

But let's unpack this suitcase of self importance, shall we?

President Trump is facing a test to his presidency unlike any faced by a modern American leader.

Hmmm, and just why would that be, shadowy writer?  Could not possibly be that he is a duplicitous, treasonous, traitorous sack of shit now, could it?

The dilemma — which he does not fully grasp — is that many of the senior officials in his own administration are working diligently from within to frustrate parts of his agenda and his worst inclinations.

Here's the real dilemma, oh prose proud cipher:  You and those other officials see this daily, yet you do nothing to stop him - like coming out into the daylight - face, name and all, and providing evidence to the Senate, Congress, and citizenry of this nation of his unfitness for office.  You stay because proximity to power, even frightening power, is intoxicating, addicting.  You could all have taken steps to stop this long ago.  You did not.  Nor are you now with this sanctimonious screed about his bad behavior and your "sacrifices" on our behalf.

To be clear, ours is not the popular “resistance” of the left. 

You got that right, mystery man or woman.  You are enablers, not patriots, and history will name, shame, and remember you as such.  You are part of an administration that still has 500 children caged away from their parents despite being court ordered to reunite them.  You are part of an administration that this morning has announced plans to withdraw from the Flores Agreement because it threatens to jack with your masturbatory glee over keeping them apart, causing grievous damage to the young psyches, and unimaginable pain to the parents.

You are not resistors.  You are shit supporting an outhouse.

The root of the problem is the president’s amorality. Anyone who works with him knows he is not moored to any discernible first principles that guide his decision making.

Again, none of this is new.  He is what he was when he rode his escalator to announce his candidacy.  TRUMP is his only principle.  His amorality is no more a revelation to us than it is to you.  You knew what he was from the beginning, but hitched your wagon to a czar anyway.  I would argue that YOUR amorality is as much at play here as is his.

In addition to his mass-marketing of the notion that the press is the “enemy of the people,” President Trump’s impulses are generally anti-trade and anti-democratic.

His mass-marketing?  You are part and parcel of every word he slobbers, every rally he holds in which he further endangers the lives of people who believe in the duties  of the 4th estate.  Every threat received by a newsroom, every doxxing of a reporter, and every drop of blood that will eventually be spilled by some wetbrained, MAGA hat wearing terrorist IS ON YOU.

YOU. ARE. COMPLICIT.

Meetings with him veer off topic and off the rails, he engages in repetitive rants, and his impulsiveness results in half-baked, ill-informed and occasionally reckless decisions that have to be walked back. 

We. Are. Shocked.  Shocked. I Tell. You. 

He makes Sarah Palin's word salads look like gourmet feasts.  He is an idiot.  A brute.  A playground bully with nuclear codes.  Yet you stay, cash your checks, make your secret recordings a la Omarosa, and dream of your book deal, your movie premier, your 15 minutes of shame fame.

FUCK YOU.  Your books will be bargain table within a month, and you a social pariah forever.  Just curious, were you never taught that poking a snake is a bad idea?  What do you think your "brave" op-ed did to that already unstable, impetuous viper in the Oval?  We are not safer for your published efforts.  All you did was stoke the fires of his paranoia, throw suspicion on every player around him, and endanger the world further as he froths and spins and plots.

It may be cold comfort in this chaotic era, but Americans should know that there are adults in the room. We fully recognize what is happening. And we are trying to do what’s right even when Donald Trump won’t.

Adults in the room?  Give me a fucking break.  There are supplicants, sycophants, cowards in the room.  There are no adults.  You are all drunk from sucking at the orange power teat.  An adult would not go on TV and lie to the people at every turn, making excuses for his behavior, his words.  An adult would not hold daily briefings and lie, obfuscate, mean girl her way through questions.  An adult would not secretly be interviewed by Woodward, then Tweet ridiculous denials when the book begins being excerpted.  Woodward records everything, dimbulbs.  You are con artists, bigots, D students, and grifters.  You are not adults.

The result is a two-track presidency.

And here is where the biggest problem with your sanctimony lies.  You are willingly ignoring Constitutional obligations, setting up a system that is not even remotely how this country operates, and refusing to go to Congress, to the Senate.  Not that Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell would do anything, but there are loud voices of actual resistors who would.

Given the instability many witnessed, there were early whispers within the cabinet of invoking the 25th Amendment, which would start a complex process for removing the president. But no one wanted to precipitate a constitutional crisis. So we will do what we can to steer the administration in the right direction until — one way or another — it’s over.

Too late, jackass.  The Constitutional crisis is here - see your own admission to creating a new operating system that does not even acknowledge the Constitution.  The 25th amendment provides steps to be taken should a President prove unable to fulfill their duties.  That is not some hollow Miss America pageant bullshit here.  We're not talking about a beauty queen who can no longer attend grocery store openings with her sash and crown.  We are talking about the supposed leader of the free world.  The person who is supposed to have a steady hand on the rudder of democracy, not be the poster child for demoCRAZY.  

You are not steering anything.  Your ship is rudderless, and worse, your actions are moral-less.  

The bigger concern is not what Mr. Trump has done to the presidency but rather what we as a nation have allowed him to do to us. We have sunk low with him and allowed our discourse to be stripped of civility.

Our discourse is exactly the result of his actions, YOUR actions.  As for civility?  FUCK YOU WITH AN UPENDED CACTUS.  What you are seeing is the actual resistance finally playing on your level - you know street fighting - and like any bully, you don't like it.  We have finally opened our eyes to the fact that taking the high road with you cretins only allows you an easier shot at our balls.  Extending an open hand to you is met by a clenched fist.  You don't even know what the word compromise means.  You are a cabal of grifting, cheating, amoral, racists bullies.  Powers is all that drives you, and your thirst for more is unquenchable.  Civility is not a Republican watchword.  It is a punchline.

Senator John McCain put it best in his farewell letter. All Americans should heed his words and break free of the tribalism trap, with the high aim of uniting through our shared values and love of this great nation.

Keep his name out of your filthy, cowardly mouth.  And as for tribalism?  Why don't you watch the Kavanaugh hearings?  A perfect example of Republican tribalism, where your tribe is a cannabalistic horde gorging on hypocrisy, hate, and power.  You have a President who you openly admit is worthy of the 25th amendment intervention, who is under investigation on multiple fronts, who is an unindicted co-conspirator, yet you see nothing wrong with him appointing a Supreme Court judge and ramming his confirmation through.  Spare me your simpering "shared values and love of this great nation" as you enable moves like this that will harm and echo for a generation.

There is a quiet resistance within the administration of people choosing to put country first. But the real difference will be made by everyday citizens rising above politics, reaching across the aisle and resolving to shed the labels in favor of a single one: Americans.

You are not putting country first.  That would involve signing your names, quitting your cushy jobs, stepping in front of the cameras.  You are putting your asses first.  This op-ed is a cOP out-ed.  You are not a hero, and you have done nothing brave, new, laud worthy.  You have provided nothing to the American public but a look into your skewed view of patriotism. heroism, sacrifice.  What you see when you look in the mirror is not a patriot, it is a hatriot, a coward, a toady.  You stay because you want to stay.  And because I suspect you know that no one is going to hire you when this is all over.  This orange stain is forever.

But you are right about one thing.  There are millions and millions of us who are resistors.  We are not, however, quiet about it.  And we do not hide our faces.  We are everyday citizens who are coming for you, your Orange overlord, and your complicit, enabling coven.  

Because WE are Americans.  You are just a coward with superhero complex and access to the New York Times.