Stop. Calling. The. Police. Just. Because. Someone. Is. Black.

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

One of my neighbors, black, had an uncle come to visit to ensure that his nephew, who had gotten out of jail for stealing stuff, didn’t get in trouble again or start getting his brother in trouble.

One of my neighbors, white, murdered his wife and hid her body in the garage for at least a month.

Theft: not cool.

Murder: oh my god that is so beyond no cool and goes straight into burning in hell.

If you need to call the police on someone, maybe you need to be looking for a lighter skin tone. 


What the Hell are the “Glamour Women of the Year Awards”?

By H16794 U.S. Copyright Office. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
By H16794 U.S. Copyright Office. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

It’s kind of sad I have to ask, but I just do.

Here’s the thing: I read the news.  Lots of news.  And I saw a link on my local news for “Glamour Women of the Year Awards.”  And it’s just a slideshow.  Thirty-four photos.  And some of the “thumbnails” are of the women’s waists.  Others are just faces.  And there is nothing on the page anywhere about what these awards are for.  It’s just a bunch of pretty faces.  Nothing to identify what these awards are for.

Okay, that’s odd…normally people care about what awards are for, right?  If we were looking at “Men of the Year Awards,” wouldn’t we care about what they were for?  Wouldn’t there be a mention somewhere?  Somehow?

But going to Glamour’s website doesn’t help.  Instead, there are great headlines that tell me that I should own dresses, know sex tips, and will be judged by my body.  Thanks, Glamour, that’s exactly what I was looking for!

I went ahead and Googled it, thinking maybe eventually I would find the information.  I could find only a single page that wasn’t a bunch of photos.  Celebrity-Gossip.net actually listed the awards and the winners.

Hmmm.  Helpful, but not too helpful.  Then I found it – the best page that told me the true purpose of the “awards.”  The Huffington Post stood up and shouted it – “This Week in Beauty: Best & Worst From the ‘Glamour’ Women of the Year Awards 2012.”   And how awesome, you can judge the women and rank them!  Cause, you know, the awards were only about how they looked.  What else could they be?  And if you check out the comments, it’s clear that is the only point of the awards.  People –both male and female – insult the women in the photos, making fun of their eyebrows, eyeshadow, and roots.

Yes, this is another rant.  But it’s a worthwhile rant.  Why don’t we notice these things?  Why don’t we call them out?  Why don’t we argue and shout and tell these people that we mind what they do?  There are only two options: we don’t mind, or we do and we keep quiet about it.  So let’s not keep quiet.  Let’s talk about it and argue and shout.  Because if we don’t, who will?


Heinlein was right!

Okay, so everyone who knows me knows of my habituation. (And thank you to the League City Police Officer who was kind enough to explain to our small group the difference between an addiction and a habituation – we are not “addicted” to coffee. We are simply habituated to it!) So here I am at a Starbucks in a part of town I don’t normally hang out in, but I have a job interview in about an hour, and I needed a quick coffee and some lunch.

First, I knew the area wasn’t really my comfort zone when I saw the stores surrounding the Starbucks. It’s like the Galleria vomited out all their top sellers. If you walk in with anything less than three credit cards, you will be lucky to be able to afford a pack of gum. A slight exaggeration, maybe, but I’m not joking all too much. We’re definitely talking about stores that a mere adjunct can’t afford to shop in. Not even their sales racks.

The baristas here all drive luxury cars. At least, I assume that from the fact that my convertible is the cheapest car in the lot. From my window seat, I can see the line of VWs, Lexi, and BMWs. Another PT Cruiser might show up at night. You know, when the cleaning crew is here.

So what does all description of the 1% have to do with Heinlein? You may be asking yourself that question, and I won’t keep you in suspense any longer…

The bathroom was filthy. Seriously, these people have never learned how to use toilets before from the amount of piss all over the seat. And the floor was covered with used paper towels that had just never managed to make it into the garbage can (which was a nice covered one with plenty of room left).

Now, if you don’t know Heinlein, maybe you aren’t making the connection. But he had a lovely little bit once about how you could tell a lot about a society about how they treated their public bathrooms. If they had any respect and caring for their fellow man (or woman), the bathrooms would be clean and well maintained.

I think it’s pretty clear that the 1% using the bathroom here sure don’t care about their fellow women…either that, or they’re just too used to having a maid dogging their footsteps and cleaning them up.

Worst Starbucks bathroom ever.

The 1% should be ashamed of themselves for that alone.