Being with a British guy (and also S.A.D. Gwyneth)

Gwyneth Paltrow sucks a whole lotta peen. Not that I would ever wish divorce on anyone, but really, Gwyneth, I’m gonna need you to take your Tracy Anderson dolltrollworkoutinstructor and your monogrammed leather fly swatter and go die in a hole. And please, feel free to do Tracy’s SUPER EASY DANCE WORKOUT WHERE YOU LEARN HOW TO DANCE LIKE EVERYBODY’S WATCHING in that hole, Gwyneth.

Anyway, one of my family members sent me an email with a link this UK Telegraph article, which is all about the ups-and-downs of being with a British man. The subject line of the email was, “Didn’t you have a British boyfriend?”

Why yes, I did. And here is what I have to say in response to that article, which I enjoyed very much and which was very cute, by the way.

My British ex, whom we will call Benedict Cumberbatch so as to completely protect his true identity (although if the real person reads this, he will of course know I’ve written about him), was very tolerant of my mental health chat and not terrible at expressing himself, especially given that he is British.

He rarely thought his Mummy knew best, mostly because she enjoyed hobbies such as African drumming (this did not stop him from asking her for financial assistance though, haha—we all need our ATMommies every now and again).

He also danced a lot, albeit badly, but I still liked dancing with him because I am not really a great dancer myself, and we had fun.

The diet is spot on, but that didn’t bother me because men (and women) who care too much about what they eat suck. Not that we should be fatties, and not that we should be unhealthy, but really, don’t be obsessive—it’s unbecoming. For example, I know a guy who won’t even eat a piece of cake to celebrate someone’s birthday because he is literally so obsessed with his healthy/body. Granted, he also has a propensity to cry at work, so clearly there’s a whole bunch of other issues going on with him, but anyway. The point is: eat a cookie. Eat some beans on toast. Stuff on toast is pretty yummy, by the way.

Benedict does hate American management speak (or at least he did the last time I checked)—from what he told me, his whole office mercilessly made fun of American business speak.

He wasn’t an amazing dresser, but he had an amazing bod, so everything he wore looked good anyway. And he NEVER wore socks with sandals, which is good because no relationship of mine would ever survive an appearance of socks and sandals (at least a public appearance…we all do weird shit in private).

I don’t know about Benedict’s public speaking capabilities, but the football thing is totally not right. I mean, MAYBE they won’t be into American football, but they will be into British football (aka soccer, which by the way is called “football” by the rest of the world) and RUGBY. The rugby chat never ended.

Also, Benedict had good manners when it mattered, but when it didn’t matter, he was like an animal. But really, that’s how I am, too. Maybe we fed off each other.

Then again, Benedict was a very special snowflake. Hardly your average male, much less your average British male—I will prove this by pointing out that he was able to sustain a relationship with me. This means he was very special, naturally.

In summary, this article is very cute.

Oh, also, I totally would spend $52 on a leather fly swatter, except that I NEED GROCERIES AND HEALTHCARE. Sorry bitch. Can’t spend $52 on a f-ing leather fly swatter. Goodbye Gwyneth.

I Got Fired and Somehow the World Hasn’t Ended…

A couple months ago, I wrote a post about following my dreams and how amazing I felt about doing something that would make me feel more fulfilled in my life and potentially make a difference in the world. I had just recently left my New York City-based consulting job (and my friends and my relatively high-paying salary and, you know, basically everything and everyone I hold dear) to move to Arlington, Virginia, for a job with a well-known news program, which I will call “Unnamed News Program.”

I was so so so extremely excited about this new opportunity, and actually the post got a lot of positive responses. I even heard from a couple people with whom I hadn’t spoken in ages who felt inspired by my post. I was firstly honored that I could inspire others and secondly proud of myself that I had made this big transition and was, you know, following my dream. Or something.

Today, less than three months after I wrote that post and just over three months after I left New York, I find myself…well, not where I thought I would be, to say the least. See, my plan was essentially to work at this new job for six months, get some good material for my reel/portfolio, then, you know, launch myself into extreme success as an amazing, intelligent, funny, beautiful television/multi-media personality. Or, you know, something…

But on May 17th, I hit a speed bump when I got fired from my new job. No, not laid off. Fired. And I can’t help but wonder: is this what happens when we take risks? Should I, going forward, expect to be punished for moving outside my comfort zone and trying to do what’s “in my heart?”

Besides the obvious annoyances and frustrations of having being fired—like being unemployed, not having a paycheck, being stuck in Arlington even though my whole life is still in New York—these questions are gnawing at me.

The on-paper reason I got fired was that I sent an unauthorized email to the Royal Press Secretary of Great Britain (yes, basically I got fired for trying to email my soul mate Prince Harry—please, laugh, it’s pretty amusing). The actual reason, however, was that my boss was a mean-spirited woman who didn’t like me because I told her she needed to stop being condescending and rude to me. Here’s the long and the short of it:

My boss—let’s call her “Becky”—seemed as though she was not on my side from the moment I got to Unnamed News Program. She wasn’t the person that hired me; the guy who hired me actually had left before I started my job, and Becky had taken his place. While the guy who hired me seemed pretty excited to have me on board, Becky seemed not as thrilled. Becky publicly chastised me, threw things at me when no one was looking, and made fun of me behind my back.

I’m not really sure why she acted that way…I was mostly just interested in being Becky’s friend, especially since I didn’t really have any friends in the DC metro area, you know? I was looking for people to hang out with, and of course I thought work would be a great place to start. But Becky made it pretty clear she wasn’t interested in being my friend.

There are some nuances to this situation, of course, but my main concern was protecting myself against abuse from Becky in the workplace. You know, this is just one of those things where I have to draw the line! So one day, I approached Becky about her behavior towards me. Her main message to me was, “I’m your boss. No matter how I treat you, you have to do what I say.”

Needless to say, I was astonished. After three years in consulting, I was used to a kind of…how shall we say…professional courtesy. But hey, as my oh-so-wise mom likes to say, “Them the brakes.” And so they were. Clearly this wasn’t going to be a battle I was going to win, so I resolved to try to build a better relationship with Becky—from the bottom up, pun intended.

Becky and my conversation happened on a Monday. Thursday of that week was my birthday—in an effort to show there was no ill-will between us, I invited Becky to join me and some colleagues for drinks. Becky declined; the following morning (Friday) Becky called me into the Deputy Executive Producer’s office. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but it didn’t feel good.

As it turned out, Becky had rapidly escalated her loathing of me to, well, the top, and the top was now yelling at me. I got berated for everything from “insubordination” to “lack of dedication to my job” to “inappropriate behavior in the workplace.” These were all, as the Deputy EP pointed out, grounds for termination. But the ever-generous Deputy EP explained that she has two daughters my age and, while she hopes they comport themselves well (which I was to understand as “better than you have been behaving”) in the workplace, she would hope that, if they made a mistake, they would be given a second chance. And so, out of the deep, warm, gooey goodness of her loving heart, she was giving me a second chance.

Turns out the second chance wasn’t so warm and gooey after all: I had to go to HR to sign some forms agreeing that I was a 26-year-old insubordinate delinquent and acknowledging that I had three weeks to demonstrate immediate correction of my behavior. Obviously I signed my life away and immediately adopted the persona of a paranoid nutterbutter. I found myself looking over my shoulder every five seconds to make sure no one was spying on me, fully petrified that every word I uttered would cause me to lose my job. In a final ditch attempt at self-preservation, I became a doormat. I even asked Becky permission every time I had to go to the restroom, an action which seemed to please her immensely.

In the end, though, my efforts were for naught. The following Friday—just one week after I had been “formally warned”—the Deputy EP called me back into her office. It seems that, one night that week, while Becky had been going through my company emails to “ensure that I was accurately representing the Unnamed News Program,” she’d come across an email I’d sent to the Royal Household Press Secretary asking if Prince Harry would have time to come into the studio for a visit. Upon further research, it became apparent that I hadn’t asked for permission to send this email, which was, as the Deputy EP exclaimed, “a diplomatic nightmare!”

It didn’t matter that I’d sent the email prior to receiving my official warning the previous week, nor did it matter that I hadn’t meant any harm by it (frankly, I hadn’t thought twice about sending that message…for better or worse, it was just kind of like a silly thing) or that the Royal Press Secretary had written me back saying that he was so sorry, but Prince Harry just wouldn’t have time to come into the studio as he had to head straight to Denver after his visit in D.C. I was toast.

Having received my official dismissal, I packed up my stuff and went to HR to do whatever you have to do when you get fired. After attempting to listen to the HR Lady tell me yet again why I was getting fired—you know, because I’m so dumb I didn’t really understand it the first time—I’d had enough. I believe my exact words to her at that point were, “Lady, I know why I got fired. Now I’m gonna tell you something: you’re the kind of HR person that gives HR employees all over the world a bad name. So why don’t you just s-my-d, finish filling out my paper work, and let me move on with my life.” She was hardly thrilled, but I didn’t hear another word out of her. It’s the little victories in situations like these.

Anyway, so that’s what happened, and now here I am. It’s a month later. I haven’t found another job, and I just found out that my unemployment insurance claim was denied. As the government put it, “You should have known that your actions would jeopardize your job.” Thanks guys. Because getting fired wasn’t, you know, demeaning enough.

The thing is, though, that even in the face of this situation, I can’t quite bring myself to be really angry or upset. I mean, sure, I’m seriously annoyed at myself for not being smarter about the whole thing. For example, clearly I should never have tried to have a rational conversation with Becky in the first place. I also clearly wasn’t capable of adapting to that stringent of an environment. But I don’t think I was in the wrong for sending the email that got me fired, and I kind of think the whole situation is absurd. I mean, let’s be real: anyone who knows me knows I am never afraid to admit a mistake I’ve made. And I’ve made a lot of them.

In this situation, though, I ultimately think I just kind of hit an annoying bump in the road, and that happens to the best of us.

I also found a lot of solace and inspiration in this Harvard Business Review article, which I read recently. The author, Peter Bregman, writes about how, in surfing, no matter what happens, i.e., whether the surfer has a great ride or the surfer has a not-so-great ride, everyone falls of his board in the end. Bregman suggests that humans could live their lives more like surfers, understanding that, no matter what, we’ll all fall off our boards. We might fall in surprise, or we might gracefully dip off of it—but we end up in the water no matter what.

That’s how I feel about what happened with Unnamed News Program and Becky and all of that mess. I tried to catch what I thought looked like a good wave, but it tossed me off—and now I’m in the water. Luckily, though, if I think of “my ability to swim” and “my surfboard” as metaphors for my experiences, everything I’ve learned, my optimism, my health, my friends, my family, and basically everything else that’s good in my life besides my job at Unnamed News Program, I should be able to catch another wave pretty soon. I’m in the water, but that’s what happens when you take risks.

And so back to my original question of: should I expect to be punished or to otherwise fall flat on my face when I take risks? The answer isn’t “no”—after all, I took a risk, and I fell down. And lots of other people have taken risks and fallen down, too. But the answer isn’t “yes,” either. The answer is something like, “You can’t know how the story will end if it never begins.” And so I’m off to find my next beginning, and hopefully you’ll be off to find yours soon, too.

The Disease That Plagues The Military

The tale of sexual assault in the military is revolting. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about read this, and don’t come back until you do.) Seriously, it’s sickening to the point where I actually almost vomited in the middle of the newsroom today while watching the live feed of military sexual assault victims share their stories at Senator Kirsten Gillibrand’s press conference promoting the bill that would allegedly curb sexual assault in the military. There were legit chunks in my throat when Petty Officer Brian Lewis told the world that he was raped by a senior commanding officer.

Petty Officer Brian Lewis

No, it’s not narrow-minded of me to be uncomfortable—I’m not saying Lewis shouldn’t share his story. Obviously he should. I’m just saying it’s really friggin’ difficult to listen to that.

I think on some level a lot of people have been desensitized to rape of females. I mean…it’s terrible, but look at Law & Order: SVU! That show made female rape some kind of a general topic of conversation. And how many times have you said or heard someone say, “Oh my gawd that test/meeting/presentation/etc. totally raped me.” Maybe desensitized is the wrong word…maybe it’s more just like “accustomed to.” Like rape in the sense of male-against-female sexual assault is understood as part of the English lexicon.  

But male-to-male rape, whether it be anal, oral, or otherwise, is much less a part of our culture. It’s just, on a very real level, shocking, outside of my natural comfort zone, to hear a man talk about getting raped by another man. Of course it was terrible listening to the women talk about their experiences, too, but…I don’t know, it was just completely jarring to hear Lewis tell his story.

And this is the thing about sexual assault in the military. Something like 56% of the estimated 26,000 annual victims are men. 56%. That’s insane because, really, if I had to pick the top 3 most homophobic institutions in the US, our armed forces would definitely be on that list. Also, 26,000 people is just a lot of people. A lot of people who are supposed to be serving this country, doing something good for the rest of us who are lucky that we don’t have to go to war for our nation. The saying, “No good deed goes unpunished” suits this situation perfectly.

Luckily, and also upsettingly because it’s really emotionally trying to hear about it, the military sexual assault crisis is out in the open. Gillibrand and her supporters are lobbying to get a bill passed that will basically remove prosecution of accused sexual assault perps from the military. Sexual assault cases will be examined and ruled on by non-military forces. I can’t effing believe they didn’t just write that into the military’s rulebook in the very beginning—can anyone say conflict of interest? But per usual (see my post on guns), our Founding Fathers probably weren’t thinking, “Oh, well, we should definitely keep these legal proceedings outside the military so that when the sick fucks who commit these crimes commit them there won’t be a conflict of interest.” Founding Fathers, not thinking ahead or focusing on all the totally fucked/degrading things people would think to do to each other 200+ years after 1776. FOOLS.

But they didn’t, so we’re trying to fix the situation now.

As my mom pointed out earlier, though: does anyone actually believe this is going to change the military culture? I frankly have no idea. The problem is (and I emphasize that this is my opinion here, duh) the military needs to be populated with ignorant brutes who maybe don’t know right from wrong and are full of testosterone to go in to countries with which we’re at war and shank those enemy motherfuckers. I don’t want some soldier that’s gonna be like, “Ohhhh…this terrorist has five wives and 28 kids! I can’t kill him!” Or, “Hmmmm my $300,000 education taught me that discrimination based on beliefs that differ from mine is wrong.” Hellllll NO. I want some amoral freakshows to go in there and do what they gotta do so I don’t have to live in New Damascus, the city formerly known as Washington, D.C. Because obviously that’s what will happen if we don’t have a strong military.

BUT. BUT. I also don’t want the good men and women who do give their lives to their country, no matter where they come from, how smart or ignorant, how anything or whatever they are, to experience the agony of sexual assault. I mean for cryin’ out loud, don’t these people have enough to worry about without getting sexually assaulted? Yes. The answer is yes.

But it comes from within. And as long as within the armed forces there are a lot of people that are potentially more brutish than the average bear and potentially less concerned with the precise nature of what’s right vs. what’s wrong than they are with holding onto and acquiring more power, which I do believe there are and do believe there will continue to be, I don’t know how the “within” can change.

And what’s more, it’s one thing for men to rape women. It’s wrong. Fully 100% wrong, and the men that commit these crimes deserve to have their balls cut off, sliced open, grilled, and forced down their throats for dinner. But for men to rape men? Holy fucking shit. What the fuck? What can you even do about that? It’s like, seriously, bros, you are doing this TO YOURSELVES. This is not some garden variety sexual psychopath behavior—this is full on savagery. The ancient brutish methods of Neanderthals who lived before there were rules, when everything was chaos. If there’s a group of men who think that’s a way to live, even when every fibre of modern society tells them that’s no way to live, how do you—how can you possibly—change them??

One of the victims at Gillibrand’s press conference today said she was crying tears of hope, that she’d never felt so much hope in her entire life as she did now that this bill had potential to pass. I’m happy for her that she feels hope because she deserves to feel hope, and while I hope her hope is justified, I’m not sure I have the same hope that change is or ever will be coming.

The BEST OKCupid Message Ever—So Far

Legit, I don’t usually like to make public announcements about the fact that I am on this site (and log in, meet up with people in person, etc.), but this is just too good not to share. Let’s be clear: it’s definitely still a copy-paste that he sends out (if you don’t shoot, you’ll never score), but my friends, this is an excellent copy-paste job. P.S. One of this guy’s photos reveals he wins trophies at karate competitions. WOOHOO!

Maybe some day I will write more about the Cupes. Probably not… Enjoy!

BEST OKCupes Msg Evr

I came across your profile and was quite enamored by such an articulate and heavenly blessed beauty. I would be kicking myself if I didn’t ask, so I was wondering if you would accept an engagement of witty banter between two intellectuals? Of course this “engagement” may start off as purely platonic but my sensual desires will most likely guide our cohesive unity down more erotic, lascivious, and sexual paths that will include but are not limited to passionate make out sessions under the star lit sky, dry humping, fondling each others naughty parts inducing orgasms, and an abundance of new uncharted sexual positions where I assert my pure dominance in establishing a realm of absolute sovereignty in your nether regions. 
Is this something you would be interested in pursuing? 


As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m running through all the potential worst case scenarios of what could happen if Mr. Cowhead actually reads this post. He won’t, obviously, but if he did, he could, theoretically, get so extremely super enraged that he waged individual war on me and tried to…

This one’s for you @MrCowhead

This One’s for You, Fatty! @MrCowhead

As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m running through all the potential worst case scenarios of what could happen if Mr. Cowhead actually reads this post. He won’t, obviously, but if he did, he could, theoretically, get so extremely super enraged that he waged individual war on me and tried to ruin my career/life. Not sure exactly how that would go down, but I think that’s, like, the worst case scenario.

The thing is, though, that nothing Mr. Cowhead and his followers, the Cow Klux Klan—no that’s not a joke ( –would or could do to me would ever be worse than what Mr. Cowhead and his low-life enablers over at Cox Media have already done to the Holland family and to the communities of people with special needs and those who love and support them. See this article if you’re confused as to what I’m talking about—abc-news-topstories.html You frankly have to read it to understand where I’m going here.

Although I generally don’t think an eye for an eye is the way to go—I find it doesn’t usually work out the way I want it to—I just can’t help myself in this situation. Mr. Cowhead, you win, because I am going to respond to your vulgar behavior by stooping to your primitive level and engaging in some of my own vulgar behavior. That’s right Fatty McFatfat. I am going to attack YOUR people now.

Oh, you don’t know what I mean by “your people”? Allow me to clarify! I mean fat, lazy, ignorant, inbred, incestuous, ignorant, Southern white trash. And Mr. Cowhead, as far as I can tell, you are the king of these people. WOOHOO! Daddy always said you’d be the king of the world one day!

Actually, though, I doubt your momma ever said anything, since she was a cow. Legit. A cow, as in the animal that moos. Your daddy looked in the mirror one day, realized he was so fat and ugly he’d never be able to get a human woman to have sex with him, so he went down to his parents’ barn, fucked ol’ Sally the cow, and a few months later, you popped out. You were an ugly little fucker, but your daddy done wanna do right by your momma Sally the cow, so he took you in and raised you.

Unfortunately for you, you got your momma’s body, lookin’ like a big fat piece of lard. And you got her brains, too. I really don’t know why I’m writing this out, in words, in English, because all evidence points to you being an illiterate piece of shit, but hey, maybe one of your cousins who you like to fuck sometimes learned how to read and can read what I’ve written to you. Oh, yea, that’s another your people do: have sex with your immediate family. Mmmmm incest. I know you sometimes get confused, don’t remember which cow is your momma—don’t you hate when that happens?!

Really, Mr. Cowhead, if it were up to me, you would be kidnapped, stripped naked, covered in tattoos that say “FUCK BASHAR ASSAD” and “DEATH TO THE REGIME” and the like, and dropped, ass naked, in the middle of Damascus. (Get a map you fat fucker because I know you don’t know where Damascus is.) How long do you think you’d last there? A minute? 5 minutes? They’d definitely castrate you and make you eat your own junk, which still wouldn’t be punishment enough for you, as far as I’m concerned.

What should really happen is that you should be sterilized. People as ignorant and insensitive as you should be weeded out from the gene pool. I mean, I don’t think it’s good to perpetuate your cow lineage either, but mostly you’re just so fucking dumb, you should definitely not be allowed to reproduce. I pity the woman—probably women, since God knows all your nasty people love to bang each other—who has sex with you, but that’s her choice. She should not, however, be allowed to make the mistake of carrying your child. Woof. I just threw up all over myself thinking about thinking about you having sex with someone. UGH. Oh my gawd I can’t go on, it’s too awful.

Anyway, I’ve also already emailed your bosses telling them to fire you. It’s only a matter of time before they do. Good luck you fat fuck. May you rot in the lard of your own body.

Read this article—abc-news-topstories.html 

Then see my photo response below. This is a picture of the illustrious role model Mr. Cowhead himself, of the Cox Media radio show Mr. Cowhead, which apparently doctored the original photo of the young man with Down syndrom. I lifted this photographic gem (woof) from his Twitter account. I have photoshopped it to reflect how I would stereotype him. xoxo


About 2 weeks ago, Kirsten Powers of USA Today assumed a most righteous position of Advocate for Humankind when she accused the media of not paying enough attention to the horror show that is the trial of Kevin Gosnell.

At this point, you may have heard something about the Gosnell trial. Kermit Gosnell is the “doctor”—and I put doctor in quotes because calling this man a doctor shames the medical community—who ran an abortion clinic for poor women in Philadelphia. He purportedly offered safe abortions for women who had nowhere else to turn.

As it turns out, what Gosnell may have actually been doing was committing infanticide…and murder in other forms. Employees from this clinic have claimed they bore witness to all sorts of horrors, many of which involve illegal late-term abortions, snipping live fetus’ spinal cords, and blood. Lots of blood. I frankly can’t believe it, but apparently there were preserved fetus pieces in Gosnell’s clinic space, and the freezer was stuffed with aborted fetuses that he couldn’t throw away because he was in a financial dispute with his medical waste disposal contractor. Woof. And there’s lots of other gruesome information, too.

So there you go. If you hadn’t yet heard about this atrocity…I mean court case…you’ve heard about it now.

In her article, Powers raged, implying that the liberal left-wing media wasn’t covering the trial because the story makes abortion look bad. The pro-choice media didn’t want to hoist itself on its own petard by going into this story that would make abortion look like the monstrosity that Powers undoubtedly believes it is. (Note: there is another side to this, of course, which is that actually, the pro-choice people should have been bending over backwards to cover this story because it proves that, if abortion was legal and regulated, hacks like Gosnell wouldn’t exist. Powers wasn’t engaging in ethical reporting, however—she was writing an op-ed, so she ignored this other side of the argument.)

Instead, she fought what she thought of as fire with more fire, politicizing something that she already thought was inappropriately politicized. Powers wrote about the Gosnell story, “This is not about being ‘pro-choice’ or ‘pro-life.’ It’s about basic human rights.” Well Kirsten, it certainly wasn’t about being pro-choice or pro-life before, but now, thanks to your accusations against the liberal media, it is! Congrats! That eye-for-an-eye strategy has never worked for me, but maybe you’ll have better luck.

Unfortunately, just as everyone was getting ready to respond to Powers’ finger-pointing and start covering the story, the Boston Marathon Bombings happened. Frankly, I’m surprised Powers—or one of her partners in upholding media integrity—hasn’t accused the liberal media of orchestrating the bombings themselves to divert attention off the Gosnell trial! “That liberal media!” she’d scream. “They’ll stop at nothing to protect their pro-choice viewpoints from public criticism!” But maybe even she wouldn’t stoop so low…

Regardless, now that the immediate drama of the Boston Bombings has semi-subsided, the Gosnell story is back on the table, and many mainstream national news programs have started to focus on it. Partly this is, in fact, because of the backlash that’s come from it not being covered, but the pick up may also have to do with the fact that the defense of Gosnell is scheduled to start tomorrow. People are wondering: how does one go about defending a monster such as Gosnell? People want to know.

Now that it’s being covered, and I have had the misfortune to watch too much of this coverage, I am prepared to offer my own hypothesis about why the media—liberal, conservative, or otherwise—wasn’t covering this story. First of all, there’s a gag order on everyone involved in this trial. There’s no video, or anything really, coming in and out of the courtroom. And thank gawd for that because IT’S FUCKING DISGUSTING! That’s the real reason this story hasn’t been covered! Not because the media has some secret conspiratorial plan to take over the world. No. It’s because this story is sickening!

Seriously, this story is worse than even the most perverse horror movie. In part, it’s more terrible because it’s real, but also, we’re talking about dead babies. Alleged hundreds of dead babies, some of whom might have actually been alive outside of their mothers’ wombs. Little formaldehyde-preserved fetus feet, jars full of dead baby pieces. Gosnell and his esteemed associates snipping the spinal cords of little babies that, if born in a hospital, could have survived and been adopted by loving parents. Instead, we have a horrific story of human neglect, recklessness, murder beyond murder. And the best part? Gosnell had accomplices, many people who helped him do this dirty work, who, if not fully, at least partially, worked with him by choice. We have a whole group of people who committed crimes most foul, crimes against humanity. They have shamed humans everywhere, marred our society, contributing to the darkness that continues to consume the world, bit by bit.

Who wants to talk about this shit? No one! This story is sensational, for sure—sensationally vomit inducing. This ain’t no Jodi Arias rodeo people. No crime of passion here. No porn, no sexting, no hot blond-turned-demure-brunette. Oh no no. This is pure, unadulterated dead baby chat. Shit that’s so heinous no one would want to make it up, much less talk about if it’s real.

But there you go! There you go, Kirsten Powers, Media Research Group, and everyone else who cried against the injustice inflicted on the American people by the liberal media, I hope you’re happy. Now everyone’s talking about this story. About the infanticide. About the bloody babies that perished in Gosnell’s clinic. About the would-be mothers who felt so hopeless they turned to this monster for “help.” And maybe we do need to know about this…maybe this is news… But maybe we should have figured out a way to have a more…civilized dialogue about this. An examination of what really happened.

But now we all get to hear every last gross detail about Kermit Gosnell and his atrocious behavior. Over lunch, over dinner…ironically I’ve lost my appetite for the next week after hearing this story. But who cares because Kirsten Powers is all like, “Take that, liberal media! Yummmmmmm.”

What the $*@! was that #$*@ on the news today?


Today was just wild! Up until about 2:30 PM, the newsroom was dead. Like, we were working on stuff, but nothing to do with the Boston bombing other than finding a reporter to tell us there have been no new developments in the past 24 hours. Then, suddenly, the TV screens—all 24 of them—lit up with banners reading, “BOMBINGS SUSPECT ARRESTED” and “FBI BRINGS SUSPECT INTO CUSTODY”, etc., etc. The newsroom went silent (well, as silent as a newsroom can be, anyway) while everyone put on their headsets and listened to the reported developments.

What happened next was…how to say this delicately…a complete and utter clusterfuck. Like, literally. Three of the top male network news anchors, who shall remain officially unnamed, were all standing around in front of their network’s on-site camera doing what looked like their best impression of a three-ringed circus while they went back and forth and back and forth and back and forth about the report that there was a suspect in custody, then there wasn’t, then there was a suspect but he hadn’t been arrested, then there was a suspect who the police were chasing, then there was no suspect at all, then the sources had given them bad information, then they’d been quick to jump to conclusions, then there was a suspect going to the Federal Courthouse, then the Federal Courthouse had been evacuated, then there was a bomb scare, then there was something at one of the hospitals, and then there was a suspect here, there, nowhere. I mean, you wanna talk about a three-ringed circus. I mean, fo realz! I felt like I was watching Moe, Larry, and Curly do a slapstick routine that was just tanking.

Where I work is not a “breaking news” station. We don’t have the ability to go live any second—we have a show during a set time, and we do that. We “analyze” the news. So not only were we not on the scene in Boston seeing what was going on, but we also weren’t having any sources call in and tell us this, that, and the other thing—in other words, we were taking what the media was saying for granted. Then someone noticed that nothing was coming through on the wires (wires = journalist’s bible of official, validated “news”). Now, when something doesn’t come in on the wires, that’s suspicious…you immediately wonder, why is XX TV channel reporting this before it’s been validated? Sure, some stations are going to have amazing sources, but sometimes…well…sometimes maybe you need to wait to make sure your story checks out.

I’m not entirely sure who was the first to report the misinformation about the suspect having been arrested (tragically, I think it might have been CNN; they also had their source speaking on the air, and she was explaining the story basically as it became invalid…), but the thing is, it was misinformation. And it spread like wildfire. Seriously, within a matter of less than 2 minutes, every major network station was picking up on what the others were saying, namely that there was a suspect in custody. When that turned out to be incorrect, confusion and the trend of everyone trying to cover his ass caught on just as quickly. And soon enough, everyone was confused. Reporters, the American public, probably even Obama were like, wtf mate? No one knew what was going on.

You may be wondering: how did this happen? How did so many people have all this bad information all at once?

This is definitely a tricky question. For one, there’s oftentimes a “follow the leader” situation in news. In other words, news stations will cover a story because other news stations are covering that story. It doesn’t always happen, but in a world where news gets less and less original each day, this has become fairly commonplace. But second, and I am just postulating here, but what I think is: our über connected modern society may be a great for vanity (oh em gee I am such a babe in that Facebook pic you just posted!), but it may prove detrimental to fact checking and accurate information. If the goal of—or at least the pressure of—modern day reporting is to get the story out as fast as possible, then it would make sense that you would just pick up what someone said on Twitter or Instagram or wherever and take it as gospel and run with it. I honestly don’t know what happened in this situation, but I bet it involved at least a few texts and maybe some tweets. Note: sometimes, you’re just going to have a misinformed source, and that sucks. But we just have to try to double check all our info. If one person knows something, chances are there’s someone else who knows it, too.

Eventually this confusion sort of resolved itself, but this situation was not good. In the world of journalism and reporting, misrepresenting facts and misinforming the public is, to put it lightly, really fucking bad, even when done accidentally or in good faith. Sure, sometimes shit happens. Someone says something, it catches on to someone else, your sources get jumbled, you make a mistake, and then maybe you lose your job over it. Maybe even if no one really noticed you lose your job over it. Whatever. You lose your job, and your journalistic integrity is totes in the shitter. But all of journalism is not ruined by your mistake.

With what happened today, though, I mean, what can they do? Fire every major news correspondent in the country? Doubtful. News networks do, however, need to figure out how this mistake happened and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Reporters everywhere, myself included, need to be extra cautious. First of all, shit like this makes the media look bad. As in, it’s just embarrassing. And frankly, there are enough embarrassing things that happen in the media—being bad reporters doesn’t need to be added to that list.

Second, though, and more importantly, this gives the American public reason to hate us, and worse, not believe us. We effectively discredit ourselves, remove any trust in a relationship already shrouded in skepticism. It shouldn’t be a question of whether people should believe the news or not—it’s our job as reporters to double and triple check our facts to ensure the public is getting the truth. The second that stops happening, television news becomes Hollywood. If it’s not 100% fact, it’s not reporting. A big component of making sure we’re sharing the facts is going to involve sifting through what’s coming through on social media. What’s real and what’s not. We also need to make sure our sources are capable of sifting through that because, if they’re not, and they take something on Twitter and share it with us, it’s just as if we’ve directly shared it ourselves. This may have been the first kind of widely publicized, across-the-board media farce, but it won’t be the last time for a potential similar situation to arise. It will be up to the media—no one else, and no members of the media excluded—to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

Pledge to Prevent Preventable Tragedy

Some people with whom I’ve spoken since the Boston Marathon Bombings yesterday have expressed complacency. “This is just part of humanity,” one said. “It’s awful, but you’re really just not safe anywhere anymore. That’s just how it is,” from another. Even the Wall Street Journal put out an op-ed called “Terror in Boston” that was just kind of like, well that sucked, but we’re really vulnerable and just need to protect ourselves more with defense systems and such.

Here’s the thing: that may all be true, but WHY DO WE ACCEPT THAT? Why do we just accept that tragedy and unspeakable acts of violence will be part of our lives? Why are we seemingly prepared to accept that, any time we go out in public, we might get blown to smithereens? And most of all, why do we accept that our only solution to this terror is to ramp up defense forces?

EXCUSE ME?? I thought I lived in the United States of America. Not Afghanistan. Not Iraq. Not Israel. I mean, hello? What the fuck? I absolutely REFUSE to accept that we’re going the way of the Middle East. We CANNOT accept this hatred and violence, and we certainly cannot accept that we are powerless in preventing it!

And if we do, well shame to everyone. Shame to the President, the government, and each and every last citizen because that is ABSOLUTE FUCKING BULLSHIT. I fundamentally refuse to believe that this is our future, that we just won’t ever feel safe, and there’s nothing we can about it. I mean, what’s next? American suicide bombers in protest of freedom of religion? Complacency about car bombs in front of movie theatres that show movies someone doesn’t like? Hell fucking no. This country cannot go that way.

Here’s what we need to do. We need to stop fucking sitting on our disgusting lazy asses and MOBILIZE. We need to mobilize against hatred and violence and teaching our children that fighting is the answer. We each need to work to breed peace from within each other, our family members, our friends. I’m not saying we all need to go march on the Washington Mall or walk across the country in protest. No. Fuck that. Enough with the walks and the demonstrations and the masquerade of action.

We need to ACTUALLY ACT. Each individual has the INDIVIDUAL POWER to act in a way that will make this country a better place.

When we see something wrong—even if it’s just someone saying something despicable and hateful to another person—we need to do everything in our power to stop it. Tell the hateful person to STOP. Calmly, but in a way that makes them understand you are serious. We need to make acceptance the norm, not exclusion. So get more involved in helping each other.

You know, I appreciate that having a kid like Adam Lanza can’t be easy. I don’t know what it’s like to have a child at all, much less an emotionally distraught child, but I find it exceedingly difficult to believe that no one—really, no one—saw what was going on with him. Someone—probably multiple people in fact—saw that he was sick, maybe were afraid of him, but they just didn’t do anything about it. They thought, “I don’t want to meddle,” or, “That’s not my problem.”

Well guess what?!? IT IS YOUR PROBLEM. It has BECOME your problem, whether you want it to or not. You know why? Because maybe it wasn’t you this time, but next time, it could be. Next time, that could be YOUR child, or YOUR brother, or YOUR mom. I bet you wouldn’t feel so fucking complacent then.

Terrible, awful, horrific things happen, and sometimes we can’t do anything at all about them. If someone dies of brain cancer or some sort of swimming accident, there’s nothing we can do. That is unpreventable tragedy—we can’t control everything, and accidents do happen.

But people dying in war, officers getting shot while chasing a criminal, people having their legs blown off by a bomb at a joyous international event—this is all preventable tragedy. PREVENTABLE, as in, could have been stopped from happening. We’re too complacent, too comfortable with the level of violence and destruction we all wreak on each other. We need to be more shocked, more emotional, and more dramatic about these horrors to the point where we are MOVED TO PREVENT THEM. We each need to pledge to be kinder, more compassionate, more forgiving. Most of all, we need to pledge to never be part of an act of hatred or violence, no matter what the motive; and if we see someone else doing something of the sort, we need to pledge to do everything in our power to stop him.

The future of the US is up to us: are we going to help each other help ourselves? Or shall we just sit back and watch while we, together, destroy humanity?