muffy bolding

Dude…how come Woody Allen, Pete Townshend, and Roman Polanski get a fucking pass?

TUMMY. OFF. TRACK. TODAY. NOT. GOOD. THANK. THE. GODS. FOR. BABYWIPES. AND. CLEMENTINE. AIR-FRESHENER. WHERE. IS. YOUR. GOD. NOW. MOSES?

Contrary to the Right insisting otherwise, I personally believe that MUCH of this anti-immigration fuss is based in a profound and deeply-entrenched cultural and historical racist ideology. I think that there are racists walking amongst us who quite literally have NO IDEA that they’re racist — because such narrow-minded thought is all they’ve ever known. To ask them to examine their own white privilege is like asking a carp, “How’s the water?” They simply have no idea; THEY ARE FUCKING SWIMMING IN IT.

“I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing.” — Neil Gaiman

“I think anyone who’s an activist but doesn’t own up to their contradictions is not doing anyone a favor.” — Beth Ditto

Haven’t these Chinese astro-bastards heard of Space Food Sticks and Tang, goddamnit? Eat fucking raccoon, or hedgehog, or those awful pink-faced monsters, the possums. But for christ’s sake — DON’T EAT THE SWEET BABIES. They’re much more valuable as friends than as something to make hearty the motherloving space stew. The size of their loyal and loving hearts FAR outweighs the size of their JUICY HIND LEG.

OFF TRACK.

What’s up with Luke Wilson and that inexplicable meatface? His body looks pretty much the same…and yet his face looks like…well, it looks like MINE.

Though it doesn’t get nearly the same attention as its grey, Wintery sister, Summer Seasonal Affective Disorder is a right bitch. This time every year, the sun singes my soul and I watch the weather forecast every night with dread and horror. If I see the temp is going to be over 80ish…I can feel the blackness start to creep in around the edges. Sometimes it takes everything I’ve got to make it to Fall — and I mean that quite literally.

The Minotaur

The mahogany table-top you smashed
Had been the broad plank top
Of my mother’s heirloom sideboard-
Mapped with the scars of my whole life.

That came under the hammer.
That high stool you swung that day
Demented by my being
Twenty minutes late for baby-minding.

‘Marvellous!’ I shouted, ‘Go on,
Smash it into kindling.
That’s the stuff you’re keeping out of your poems!’
And later, considered and calmer,

‘Get that shoulder under your stanzas
And we’ll be away.’ Deep in the cave of your ear
The goblin snapped his fingers.
So what had I given him?

The bloody end of the skein
That unravelled your marriage,
Left your children echoing
Like tunnels in a labyrinth.

Left your mother a dead-end,
Brought you to the horned, bellowing
Grave of your risen father
And your own corpse in it.

Ted Hughes

On my way back from a delicious brekkie with the BRILLIANT Billy Butler this morning, I heard on NPR that a new exhibit is opening at the Gene Autry Museum of Western Heritage here in LA: “Gays and Lesbians in the Old West.” I immediately thought to myself, “Ummm…aside from Miss Kitty…I’d be willing to bet that EVERY SINGLE WOMAN in The Old West was a BIG OL’ BULLDYKE. After all, what other broads would be BUTCH enough to SURVIVE the fucking Old West? CERTAINLY NOT MY FAT ASS — and trust me, I’M BUTCH!”