Author Archives: straykatstrut

Week 45

Then Alabama State Rep. Ed Henry, Donald Trump’s Alabama campaign co-chairman, asked if there were any pictures.

That’s it.  I’m out.

Hey, Trump voters: I don’t give a f*** what Bernie or anyone else says about your needs, anxieties, or economic troubles.

When you can justify the rape or assault of children, I’m f****** done with you.

You pedophile-loving, sexual-assault defending, Bible-thumping, Putin-worshipping, evil, authoritarian racist losers can all drown for all I care. (Or, what would be more likely, shoot each other up.) If these are the values of the so-called “heartland”, than f*** the heartland.

You embrace hatred of your fellow man, yet promote lust for someone’s else’s child. Then you have the sick audacity to say you promote “family values”.   You don’t need economic help–you need psychological help.  The only people worse than you are the GOP silent enablers who excuse every monstrous thing because speaking out might mean they won’t get to kick a poor person in the teeth anymore.

via Now that you’ve tried to justify child molestation, we’re done reaching out to you.

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Rock ‘N’ Roll All Nite: The One Night I Wasn’t A Kitty

I wrote this piece, and posted it, to my private Facebook profile on Feb. 1st, 2016.

Writing about family is tough for me. I’m never sure what’s really gonna come out. Sharing it is difficult, but I think I’m ready now.

I’ve had some memorable concerts. This one’s up there with Voodoo Lounge in ’94.

Rock ‘n’ roll.

~ ~ ~

We had KISS tickets. I think T worked her concert mojo and won the ticket seller’s lottery because she had come out with four seats not only in the same section, but RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER. That’s rare.

It was done. We needed to prepare. We headed for the joke/magic shop.

The old dude behind the counter was rather awesome. While I was browsing the rubber chickens, Whoopee cushions, dirty dice, and playing cards, the others were picking out various makeup containers in shades of silver and black. The silver glitter was an afterthought from the old man. He got us. Like attracts like. We took our loot and headed home.

Hungry but too excited to eat. We painted our faces and dressed in our blackest finery. I wore my silver sequin tube top and black vinyl pants. If I had a tail, I don’t remember it. Erik wore the Demon face, Marci had the Starchild, T and I were both Ace. If I’d been a little more sure of my skills, I’d have worn the Cat makeup. No time for regret! But… regret.

Sunset. Time to roll. We filed out to the hoopti, garnering strange looks from the nieghborhood kids. They knew we were odd, but they hadn’t known just how much. They still don’t.

Flying through the darkened streets, tunes blasting, we arrived at the parking garage more or less in character; a state of mind that crystallized when T found herself on the wrong floor. First she was next to us waiting for the elevator, then somehow we were up, and she was one floor below. “Goddammit, Ace!” Then we went down and she was up. I’m still not sure how she pulled that trick off–hell, there was only one elevator on that side.

We were on the right track. Rock n roll, baby.

After extricating ourselves from the garage with much laughter, we head into the venue. Our silver makeup glinted in the light. My sequins made me feel like a disco ball. We bought one concert tee forever known after as “The KISS shirt”. I did a quick change on the escalator. The disco ball was feeling vulnerable showing so much skin.

We find our section and show our tickets to the usher. They call another usher over. They look at the tix again and murmur amongst themselves, casting quick glances at us. They say, “This way,” and we follow. Up, down, up, round and through half a stadium and some parted curtains into… box seats. The swanky seats the rich snots usually sit in. We sit. We look around. We see a sea of Aces and Peters and helluva lot of Genes and Pauls. They look good. We look better. The old man’s brainstorm on the silver glitter was genius.

The Who’s ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ was playing low throughout the place. It was five minutes in before I even registered it. The crowd was getting rowdy. T and I started waving at everyone, cheering them. The crowd got rowdier. The song got louder. We waved more.

And then… “Yeeeeaaaahhhhh! Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.”

The crowd goes wild!

And then the lights went down.

Showtime. The smoke. The boots. The codpiece. My eyes. Dat bass. The shattered mirror guitar. The sunburst. The swagger and the blood, the synchronized guitar and headbang. Ace’s perpetual slur. The spectacle, indeed. It was everything that had been promised, and it was good.

It was only after we sat sprawled, exhausted, into our seats that we looked up and saw the video cameras filming the crowd, us included.

That was a good night. Hope you enjoyed the view, boys. You’ll never get that again.

Writing What Scares You | The Huffington Post

When you can dig deep to uncover that stinging level of honesty, people will relate to your authenticity. So stop being scared and write the hard stuff. Fiction or nonfiction, it doesn’t matter.

Accept now, before you even start, that some people will hate it. Then again, some will love it. Write for the lovers.

Strip yourself naked, bare your soul, and be brave.

Source: Writing What Scares You | The Huffington Post

We Can Shut Our Eyes to the Horror in Front of Us, but We Must Never Close Our Hands to a Kin in Need – Johanna Rosberg | TheSeeds4Life.com

What you want for yourself, is what you must try to offer to others. You might take your freedom and rights for granted – but what about theirs? What about your neighbor, or your friend, a man on the street, or the estranged child on the other side of the planet? What can you do for them that you would want them to do for you, if the roles were reversed?

Source: We Can Shut Our Eyes to the Horror in Front of Us, but We Must Never Close Our Hands to a Kin in Need – Johanna Rosberg | TheSeeds4Life.com

We’re Still Going To Call You A Racist Piece Of Shit If You Are A Racist Piece Of Shit, Hooray!

We don’t need the government to change things, and we never have. We don’t need the president to agree with us in order to call a bigot a bigot. Every battle fought in the interest of equality and fairness has been fought without the approval or interest of the government and those in charge. Sure, it’s easier with that seal of approval — and yes, a lot of the hurt and pain we are feeling right now is made so much worse because we started to think we were close to not having to fight quite as hard — but they need that more than we do. They need societal approval more than we do, because they are weak.

Take this into consideration — the absolute worst thing conservatives have ever had to go through, as a movement, was the last eight years of Barack Obama being president. Behold, how rattled they were after merely a few years of having to deal with the abject trauma of sometimes being told they were racist or sexist on Facebook! How it hurt them to have to see people say “Black Lives Matter!” How it broke their little hearts to see women as Ghostbusters! The poor dears! They could barely stand it.

All of this, to them, was so positively unbearable that they completely fell the fuck apart. Their very first test of being slightly uncomfortable, and they decided to burn it all down. They went in for the Alex Jones shit, they wore tricorner hats and cried about how they wanted their country back. Electing Trump was not a show of their collective strength but of their collective weakness in the face of adversity. We don’t fall apart, they do.

Source: We’re Still Going To Call You A Racist Piece Of Shit If You Are A Racist Piece Of Shit, Hooray!

Life is pain « Cristian Mihai

“All this pain, all this suffering…even though it almost broke me, almost turned me into the worst version I could be capable of being, in the end, all it did was make me want to save the world, made me want to spend the rest of my days improving myself and helping others too.

That’s why I write. Why I blog. I try to make sense of my suffering, and hopefully help others understand their own struggles.

. . .

The real struggle is in the choice. The real pain. In walking on the street without wishing for someone to hold your hand, in spending time by yourself without feeling bored as hell, in working your ass off every day, trying to better yourself. The pain of choosing to love yourself even though you hate what you see in the mirror. To help the broken even though some of them will try to break you as well.”

Source: Life is pain « Cristian Mihai

“In dealing with you, I will match courtesy with courtesy, insult with insult, incompetence with incompetence. I have transmitted requisition forms to your astromechs and to your datapads; please use them, and always check your spelling. Thank you.”

-Squeaky, Wraith Squadron quartermaster

when nice people say they’re voting for trump – The Essential Kit

“Earlier this summer a friend said they were going to vote for Trump.

I turned bright red, I kid you not. Bright bright red. Even I thought it was funny. They said, ‘I take it you’re a Hillary fan,’ and I said, truthfully, that it wasn’t so much that I was pro-Hillary as I was vehemently anti-Trump. (This has changed: I’ve really had to examine my prejudices against Hillary and question how many of them were instilled by 30 years of media telling me she was evil and corrupt, but that’s another post.)

My friend said, ‘Why?’ and I said, ‘Because Trump thinks that women are things, not people, and if he’s elected President he’s going to be the person appointing at least two, up to probably five, Supreme Court justices, and every right women have will get rolled under. If you think, for example, that there are any circumstances ever under which a woman should be able to have an abortion, you should not vote for Trump.’

(I don’t know if I had the clarity of mind at that moment to actually say ‘You in fact need to vote for Clinton if you think women are people,’ because a vote for a third party in a two-party system isn’t a protest vote, it’s taking support away from whichever major party, whether you like it or not, aligns more closely with your values, hopes and expectations of your country. Which is also another post.)”

Source: when nice people say they’re voting for trump – The Essential Kit

The Renegade Press | Tales from the mouth of a wolf

“As someone who has suffered from depression and anxiety, I know how difficult it can be to admit that you are struggling. I know the crushing feeling of despair that settles into the back of your mind and pushes down on your chest until you feel as though you are drowning underneath a sea of hopelessness. But thanks to blogging, I also know the feeling of release that comes with being able to open your heart and mind and communicate with your peers. There is no shame in admitting that you are vulnerable, depressed, or alone.

Mental illness is claiming far too many lives, and for me personally, it has taken too many wonderful people away from me far too soon. While I adore and admire the hardworking organisations that fight valiantly to save lives, I believe that we as individuals can have a far greater impact. We can start having conversations that might seem uncomfortable, or difficult to broach at first. We can stop turning a blind eye when we see a friend, or stranger struggling.  We can give those in need an ear to talk to, or a hand to hold, instead of a cold shoulder and a diverted glance. And maybe in doing so we can stop people from feeling so fucking alone, or depressed, or broken that suicide becomes their only answer.”

Source: The Renegade Press | Tales from the mouth of a wolf

“You see, we may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated. It may even be necessary to encounter the defeat, so that we can know who we are. So that we can see, oh, that happened, and I rose. I did get knocked down flat in front of the whole world, and I rose. I didn’t run away – I rose right where I’d been knocked down. And then that’s how you get to know yourself. You say, hmm, I can get up! I have enough of life in me to make somebody jealous enough to want to knock me down. I have so much courage in me that I have the effrontery, the incredible gall to stand up. That’s it. That’s how you get to know who you are.” — Maya Angelou

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