The following includes descriptions, photos, and video that may serve as a trigger for victims of sexual violence.
Please be advised.
Someone asked me today, "What is 'rape culture' anyway? I'm tired of hearing about it."
Yeah, I hear ya. I'm tired of talking about it. But I'm going to keep talking about it because people like you keep asking that question.
Hey, are you a fan of Portlandia? Do you ever wish it was real, and more importantly do you ever wish that there was a Portlandia for right wing extremists?
Over at my vacation home this week I published a satirical piece about such a land. Read, laugh, share: http://mauldin.patch.com/blog_posts/where-seldom-is-heard-a-discouraging-word
The trunk of my grandfather's Buick Riviera boat tail held two cases of Budweiser and still had room for Jimmy Hoffa. "I couldn't buy any goddamned Coors this side of the Mississippi so I have to drink this horse piss," he said. "I don't know how they can call this beer." He slammed the copper-colored trunk lid. His flattop was razor sharp, as always.
Please click the link below to read another one of Helen Philpot’s fabulous blog posts.
I found a dog collar at Sherri's house that fit me perfectly -- nothing fancy, just a heavy red cotton belt with a buckle and a leash loop. I imagined that I looked like Cheetah Chrome in it, and even if I didn't I felt like a Dead Boy so it was good enough for me. I liked it so much that I decided to wear it to school along with a metal leash.