I'm on vacation, and between time zone changes, sleepless hotel nights, family issues, and time away from the black book I'm coming up empty. On top of that, I received a half-dozen rejections last week, which really isn't so bad considering I also placed three pieces, but it's so much easier to focus on the rejections. This is one of those weeks when the will to write wanes, and bad alliteration slips past the goalie.
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.