Seems like every 6 months or so - maybe once a year - there is a debate about rape jokes. Here’s how it goes: A dude tells jokes about rape or deals with hecklers in way that includes rape. A woman hears these jokes or is the heckler. She publicly states that she is upset or didn’t like the joke or didn’t think it was funny or doesn’t think that particular joke really dealt with the topic seriously. And then the comic somehow takes that feedback and uses it to LOSE HIS MIND.
When a woman claims not to be a feminist, I think, I am sad for you, that you are so worried about scaring or upsetting men that you would go desperately out of your way to separate yourself from women who men find scary and upsetting.
When a woman claims to be a feminist, I think, sure, yes, what else would you be? I hope you don’t think that embracing the label goes any further than one single centimeter toward advancing the cause, right?
But mainly, when women say either of those things, I don’t care. The use (or non-use) of that term is probably the least important thing in the universe of ways gender relations and sexism have evolved and need to continue to evolve. And every article published about the word feminism instead of actual issues related to feminism reads to me as beyond asinine. It’s like when runners argue on the Internet about the difference between jogging, running and “racing.” Call it what you want, but you’re not getting any better at it during the argument.
Ooh boy, I can’t wait to agree with whomever’s answer is “because publishing a book cannot magically undo literally centuries of inequality,” unless they have a panelist whose take is “because frustration is a common human emotion capable of striking any person at any time regardless of societal circumstances,” in which case I’m going with that person.
I’m here with Snap Clawson, a local lake resident, to speak about this weekend’s tragic events. Mr. Clawson?
WELL, LIKE I SAID, IT’S SHOCKING, AND OBVIOUSLY ANY SENSIBLE CRUSTACEAN HOPES SOMETHING LIKE THAT NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN, BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY IT’S NOT ABOUT ME AT ALL AND I THINK OFFERING MY UNSOLICITED OPINION, EVEN JUST SOME ROTE OUTPOURING OF PRAYER OR CONDOLENCES, ONLY CONTRIBUTES TO THE PROFOUND NARCISSISM OF THE MODERN AGE. IN A TIME OF SENSELESS TRAGEDY I THINK IT’S BEST TO JUST GO HOME, TURN OFF THE COMPUTER OR THE TV AND REFLECT ON THE EVENTS FOR A COUPLE OF DAYS WHILE PROFESSIONALS GATHER ACTUAL FACTS, INSTEAD OF IMMEDIATELY TOSSING YOUR TWO CENTS IN THE RING OR CLIMBING UP ON A SOAPBOX. I’M NO EXPERT … ON ANYTHING REALLY … AND I THINK THE WHOLE SITUATION AND THE WAY IT’S HANDLED SHOULD BE ABOUT THE FAMILIES, WHO PROBABLY JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE IN THEIR GRIEF RATHER THAN BOMBARDED WITH POINTLESSLY HORRIFIC NEWSCASTS OR INTERNET MEMES THAT WON’T DO ANYTHING TO BRING BACK THEIR LOVED ONES. IT JUST SEEMS MORE RESPECTFUL TO STAY QUIET AND GET TO WORK ON CHANGING THE LEGISLATURE OR THE CULTURE THROUGH LEGITIMATE ACTION RATHER THAN MAKING BOILERPLATE FACEBOOK STATUS UPDATES OR INTERVIEWS LIKE THIS ONE.
THAT BEING SAID, I DO HOPE THAT FISHERMAN ROTS IN HELL.
Indeed. Thanks so much for that exceedingly rare opinion. Back to you, Jim.
It’s about a foot and a half long, and the scoop part is about six inches wide. I appreciate that it’s long enough so I don’t have to bend so far, and I like how sturdy it is. You don’t have to worry about it breaking while you’re trying to dig out the clumps that are stuck in the corners of your litter box. The handle has a nice grip on it, too. On the other hand, the handle is so thick that I had trouble holding it. I have arthritis in my hands, and by the time I finished scooping my cats’ litter box, my joints were so stiff and sore that I couldn’t move my fingers.