Where Do All The Karens Go?

I assume that after having their racist freak outs, the Karens just go back to wherever the fuck they came from, which is probably somewhere white, suburban and prosperous. They go back to their nice white lives, in their nice white homes, with their nice white families – all of which was not and never will be enough for them, because if it were enough for them, then they wouldn’t need to have racist freak outs. What’s so terrible about being middle class and well off in America? I don’t understand what kind of hell that is, because I don’t understand why having a nice life inspires so much racism. It doesn’t seem like hell from the outside, but I hope it is, because if that’s where the Karens return to – well, I just want some sort of reassurance that they’re suffering. I would prefer to see them dragged to the town square, drawn and quartered, or whatever other sort of medieval justice we can imagine to rain down upon them – because that would be satisfying. It would be nice to know that the Karens are in pain in a public way. Even though I know that the spectacle of one white woman’s suffering wouldn’t counteract centuries of racism – I just want to the thrill and the immediate gratification of justice as entertainment. I want to feast on the schadenfreude of one Karen’s suffering. I want to be filled with it, bursting with it, drowning in it. I want to digest it for days and shit it out, until I am empty again, and then we must feed the beast again. I want to dance in the destruction of their marriages, their reputations, their relationships, their jobs, their homes. I am a glutton in the halls of cancel culture, and all I desire is more and more and more and more.

But perhaps there is a hell I do not know, and that is where all the Karens go. Perhaps hell is not the fire and brimstone that I crave, but the stasis of mediocrity and the middle class. There must be something so punishing about the white, middle class American woman – it has to be terrible, otherwise it wouldn’t produce such terrible people. It is a terror I do not know and cannot understand, but perhaps sending the Karens back into the hole that they crawled out of is the best punishment we can give them. It certainly isn’t satisfying, but, then again, perhaps it’s a satisfaction that I have yet to grasp.

I am filled with hate, yet again, and this burning circus of Karens is a glee filled revelation.

Happy Mental Health Awareness Month

People are chirping about mental health on the Internet, so as someone with ‘mental health issues,’ I thought I’d throw my opinion into the mud wrestling ring. Basically, all I have to say about mental health issues is: my mental health problems (and a lot of the mental health problems of those close to me) stem from to primary sources – systemic trauma and interpersonal abuse. The systemic trauma is a big one – that’s the stress caused by generational poverty, institutionalized racism and sexism, an unnavigable financial system, lack of affordable housing, stagnant wages, lack of medical care and lack of job opportunities. It’s remarkable what a stable housing environment, a good job that pays fair wages, and equitable access to social resources will do to relieve mental health problems. Living in poverty literally takes more brain power than being middle class! But, of course, as we all know, mental health problems impact middle class (and even upper class) people, which is why we have things like school shootings, incels and white supremacists. These people aren’t faced with traditional systemic trauma, so what’s their deal? Interpersonal abuse is also a huge factor in mental health problems – rape, domestic violence, bullying, etc… Abuse is pervasive throughout humanity. But I guess part of me is just disappointed that the systemic trauma is so frequently ignored in favor of focusing on interpersonal abuse. To me, those two things are interdependent – often times, economic factors contribute to being unable to escape interpersonal abuse. It’s clear that this newfound focus on mental issues is intended to appeal to white, middle class people because it ignores the basic economic issues that contribute to mental illness. Part of me wonders – if we focused on repairing the systemic traumas, how much mental illness would remain? Because these two factors are causes of mental illness, and that mental illness is reactive mental illness. But what about actually zeroing in on inherent mental illness? Reactive mental illness can often times be treated before the scars on the personality become permanent, but inherent mental illness is permanent.

I guess I just don’t find anything relatable about Prince Harry and Lady Gaga talking about their mental health problems. The fact of the matter is: if a community doesn’t have resources for its people, then it doesn’t have resources to solve systemic trauma, and therefore it doesn’t have resources to help with mental health problems. As someone with mental health problems, suicide awareness doesn’t do anything for me. The idea of random strangers ‘being there for me’ isn’t a deterrent for anyone who’s truly suicidal. I guess what I’m trying to say is: friendships are the most important deterrents from suicidal and depressive behavior. True friendships with vulnerability and depth. But that’s not something that you can train a society to offer – you kinda just have to do it on a person by person basis and hope that it spreads from there. Abuse will always be a part of human relationships, but I’d rather see infographics on ‘how to be a better best friend’ than another meme about gaslighting.

Back in the Tinder Box

I redownloaded Tinder out of sheer boredom/terror, you know, just to see what the fuck was out there. Let me tell you what is out there: the Great Pacific garbage patch. I’m shocked by the number middling attractive men who only know how to say ‘Hi’ or ‘hand waving emoji’ as an intro on a dating app. God, I’ve been off that thing for so long that I forgot that most people don’t know how to initiate a conversation with a stranger. I don’t really know how to respond to messages like ‘How’s your day going beautiful.’ Do I just say, ‘It’s good,’ and then move on. Or am I just completely out of touch with modern dating rituals? Granted, I put zero effort into starting conversations on this app because despite looking at it every day, I do think it’s beneath me. I’m just there to browse the merchandise. Granted, I thought I was walking into a Whole Foods of men, but turns out it’s the Grocery Outlet in Richmond, which is dirty and kinda scary. (Although, I’ll be honest, I’d shop at the Grocery Outlet in Richmond over Whole Foods every day of the week, but just humor me for this analogy.) Actually, no, don’t humor me for this analogy – the Grocery Outlet in Richmond is far superior to Whole Foods whether you’re buying food or using it as a comparison for men. Whole Foods is anodyne in its demand for ‘self care’ culture conformity and they mistreat their workers. Grocery Outlet, however, has great deals, and the last time I was there the cashier looked like a West Coast Meg Thee Stallion. Maybe I just miss being around people who can spit game, because this dating app bullshit is just so disappointing. At least I know when I go to Grocery Outlet that there’s a 50% chance that the things I buy will be terrible! However, when I got to Whole Foods, I know that there’s a 100% chance that I’ll be ripped off and contributing to class exploitation.

Anyway, all of this is just to say: I’d rather muse on the sociopolitical implications of one’s choice of grocery store than think for one second about my both boring and horrible experience of having been back on Tinder for three days. Somebody save me and tell me when the bars open again.


What happened to feminazis? Where did they go? Or did they even exist? I haven’t heard anyone get called a feminazi in quite some time. I’m pretty confused about feminazis. I’m pretty sure that ‘feminazi’ wasn’t used for self identification – rather, it was a slur hurled at women who were ‘too feminist.’ After a quick google search, I discovered that the most recent Internet think pieces written on the word ‘feminazi’ were published in 2015 – six years ago! It’s an interesting timeline – it seems that the popularity of the word majorly declined after the election of Donald Trump, which we all know is when white supremacy gained a lot more mainstream traction again. It seems that all the trolls, incels and scrotes who loved the word ‘feminazi’ realigned their understanding of the word ‘nazi’ – before 2015, people still associated nazis with bad things, but Internet extremists started embracing it full heartedly during the 2016 presidential election. I’m beginning to think that there was some overlap there – perhaps the people calling women ‘feminazis’ were actually just themselves nazis, and they quietly reclaimed the word and took it back from the realm of insults. Which leads me to wonder: does this mean that we should be calling female white supremacists ‘feminazis’ now? I might try it out. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Bad Girl 2021

I woke up with a mild hangover, which is uncharacteristic because I don’t drink that much these days. But I had two shots of liquor last night, and I forgot to drink water, so I’m awash with this familiar yet foreign feeling of dehydration and hangover. It feels punk rock. I haven’t felt punk rock in a long time – all the skeezy, scummy habits I used to have are somehow gone, washed away with responsibility of getting older. I have become exactly as boring as I always feared I would – all I do nowadays is wash my dishes immediately after they get dirty, put away clean dishes, and miss my feyonce. I occupy my time doing thinks like recaulking the sink and installing fancy knobs on the cabinets. I have been domesticated. Not by anyone in particular, just through the reality of time. I have been placated. I no longer go to warehouse parties or house shows. I don’t fuck random people just for the sport of it. I use anti-aging creams and pay my mortgage. It feels unsexy. But the idea of doing the same shit that I did in my 20s also feels unsexy. I want to feel dangerous again, but all the dangerous things I did scare me now. I don’t know how to feel dangerous in my 30s without truly ruining my life. I’ve had enough of fucking pretty criminals and getting wasted in the bad part of town. I’m concerned that I don’t have enough money to feel dangerous in my 30s, but that also feels like a sham. Perhaps I’ll indulge myself in some throwback vice just to see if it feels the same. I’ll try cocaine again and embark on a one night affair. Drop mushrooms and be naked in public. I don’t know. Those things all sound cliche. I also like feeling like a princess in a castle, covered up and avoiding everyone. There’s something dangerous about feeling better than other people, and I will hold onto that any way I can. In the meantime, more diet food and, eventually, Botox.

Life Moments

My cheap wedding dress from China came in the mail yesterday, and when I tried it on I felt like a fucking fool. Mostly because, what am I doing? All I did was buy a dress, and I made my friends plan out everything else. Neither I nor my feyonce put any effort into all of this, which might be telling. Mostly, it tells that I have supportive, Type A friends. Or something.

I’ve noticed recently that a lot of people are having kids nowadays. I’m not talking in a ‘I’m getting older, everyone’s doing it!’ kinda way. I’m talking about a ‘it seems like these people made it through pandemic together and decided the next logical step in their boring lives was to have a kid’ kinda way. I’m feeling very judge-y about it, perhaps because I’m jealous that I’m not so bored with my life and my relationship that I need to procreate in order to feel a sense of purpose or progress. Or perhaps I’m jealous because these people’s lives must be so god damn stable to be inviting such a chaos element into it. I mean, I guess this is what people do. It’s what the entire human race is based on: getting married, having kids. As someone who is doing one of those things, I probably shouldn’t judge, but, fuck it, I’m really good at judging so I’m going to do it anyway.

There’s not really any point to saying any of this. I’m just being observational and snide at the same time, which I know isn’t very interesting or revelatory. Oh, well. I’ll just be over here, sitting in my condo, saving money for Botox, and dieting myself into the dirt, as usual, looking at other people’s lives and patting myself on the back for being able to accomplish basic home care tasks such as caulking the sink. I think I’m just scared that all these life choices I’ve made recently are going to make me miserable in the long run, so it’s easy to look at other people’s life choices and decide from a distance that those choices will definitely make them more miserable than the life choices I’ve made. It’s just an anxiety coping mechanism. It doesn’t really harm anyone other than myself and the few other people I talk to.

All I know is – I better not get jilted at the altar. There is nothing in my relationship or my feyonce’s personality to indicate that there is even a remote possibility of this happening, yet it is the thing I think about most nowadays. In fact, I think about it so much that I’m starting to convince myself that in order to avoid being jilted I have to be the one to do the jilting. Which just goes to prove: I am the thing that scares me the most. Check back in one month to see if I hate married life. Until then, unedited and free flowing self loathing!

I Wish I Could Fuck Like A Gay Man

There’s something about sleeping around that feels so superfluous. So self indulgent. Perhaps even childish, but at the very least joyless. Which is upsetting to me, because I used to sleep around all the time. I used to sleep around just for the sake of sleeping around, up until one day I realized that it wasn’t very fun anymore, and then I kept sleeping around in the hopes that it would become fun again eventually, and when it didn’t I stopped after a while. I miss that part of me that that liked sleeping around and didn’t feel like it was a god damn chore. Of course, back then, attraction was incidental, and I slept around just to sleep around, not because I was in love, or believed in love, or wanted a relationship, or was hoping for a phone call. It was a self fulfilling sport. Fucking with all the vanity removed – I didn’t need to look great, he didn’t need to look great, we didn’t have to respect each other or communicate. All I did was fuck. In the most distant way possible. Now I fuck with my emotions, and it just feels so risky, like a con job or a guaranteed failure. There is something perpetually elusive about fucking someone you love, a moment of sadness when it’s over, a feeling of emptiness. I don’t feel sad after I fucks someone I don’t love – it’s a conquest, not an act of kindness. If I don’t love him, the sooner he leaves the better. If I do love him – my body collapses without meaning if his dick is not inside me. I’d like to say that I love too much, my love is too great, and this is why I can’t stand to fuck the men I love, but that’s not true. It’s just that I’m selfish, and I have been destroyed before by wanting something I cannot possess and by having only for a moment the best that life had to offer me. The only cure for this is sex without love, but the medicine is worse than the disease, but maybe if I’m lucky the medicine will kill me.

Feminist In Fighting: The Female Dating Strategy Edition

Over the pandemic, I stumbled upon a subreddit entitled ‘Female Dating Strategy.’ First of all, I loved it. It was the vitriolic, catty, mean girls reaction to the current state of ‘liberal feminism versus Internet incels.’ It was the perfect concoction of misandry, misogyny and sex negativity to keep me thoroughly entertained for at least twenty minutes a day while I rolled around the Internet.

But, first, what is Female Dating Strategy? Some people liken it to women’s version of incels of Men Going Their Own Way. It’s a combination of female empowerment and regressive dating tips that categorizes men as either “Low Value Men” who have no money and can’t get their dicks hard and “High Value Men” who (you guessed it) have money and can get their dicks hard. Women are likewise categorized as either “Queens” who follow the FDS dogma or “pick mes” who bend over backwards to please their low value boyfriends. Some of the dating tips that FDS advocate are not putting out on the first date (or second, or third), insisting on dinner dates as a first date, and having men pay for everything. I’d say that FDS takes a pretty marriage-minded approach to dating. Their dogma also advocates against pornography, video games, sex workers, and every once in a while trans women. They’re ruthless in their skewering of low value men (honestly, that’s why I follow the subreddit because they go IN, and you know I love a good hanging in the town square).

Naturally, I gravitated towards this subreddit. What can I say – I love other people’s dating horror stories. And after having chalked up a few of my own, there was something very relatable about the conversations. Sure, there are plenty of things with which I disagree on this subreddit. Apparently, if a man suggests coffee for a first date, that’s a red flag. They’re super anti-porn and anti-sex worker, which is a bummer to me because clearly I love both those things. But FDS indulges my yen for feminist trauma porn, and they’re just so mean! However, omigod, they can be mean to women, too. Which is part of where the schism comes from: FDS loathes liberal feminists and, well, they’re the nexus of the backlash on hook up culture – something I advocated and participated in eagerly a few years ago. That’s fine – I enjoyed hook up culture while I was there, but I get that hook up culture wasn’t good for everyone. FDS claims to be the scion of modern feminism, and they’re trying to pry the mantle of feminism from liberal feminists’ hands.

The liberal feminists are not having it. They claim that FDS is just black pilled pseudo-feminism, with main points of contention being attitudes towards porn and sex. I didn’t realize how vitriolic the rivalry was until I got kicked out of r/askfeminists for merely talking about FDS. I don’t consider myself an adherent of FDS, just a fan. But I also resent liberal feminism, mostly because they let themselves get exploited by Hilary Clinton in the name of a failed election bid. Or, I guess what I’m saying is: I’m a feminist in no one’s eyes on the Internet. Which is fine by me. I’m not interested in pussy scented candles or girl bossing around town. Just, let me have my cancel culture and leave me alone. I’m thoroughly content with being problematic by myself on my couch. So what, the ideas that I advocated for are no longer trendy and have been twisted against me. That’s fine. I’ll survive. I just wanna watch hentai porn, read about Qanon and watch the financial news.

Back on My Bullshit: Porn Reborn

I started watching porn again. I hadn’t really been watching porn for the last three years, mostly because I lived in a house with thin walls and ground level windows that were easy for people to look into. Sure, I’m an exhibitionist, but there was something about living with a bunch of racist lesbians that was just a total boner killer. Normally, I’d love for my roommates to hear me masturbate, but those bitches were both basic and nosy, and I just wasn’t ready for all of that.

I guess there’s something to be said for the pandemic, too – it was a great opportunity for me to break a lot of my bad sexual habits and start over. Primarily, I decided I didn’t want to just fuck for fuck’s sake. Sex is fun, but fucking just out of habit, in this emotionally void yet compulsory way had lost its luster. So I took a break, doubled my anti-anxiety medication, and tried to be zen in my room while not spreading a deadly infectious disease.

Well, here I am. I’m on the other side of all of that bullshit now, living in my nice condo with a view and drinking strawberry smoothies every morning. I’m off the lexapro, which is cool but it has also made me both very weepy and very horny at every moment of the day. Which is cool after a year of sexual stasis, but, oh. My. God. I found myself on 4chan the other day for the first time in a long time, and in a matter of minutes I realized that I had been looking at hentai porn for hours. I felt like a little kid on Christmas – I totally forgot that I could watch animated fox impregnation porn with just the click of a button. Incest hentai. Tentacle porn. Holy shit. And, even better, now that I don’t have roommates: sound on, bitches!

That was two days ago, and I don’t know if I’m making up for lost time or what, but I cannot stop watching porn. It’s exhilarating. And what’s up with hentai? I was never into hentai back in the day. I was a BDSM lesbian porn kinda gal, but I guess things change, and now I’m really into watching cartoon porn. There’s something about people porn right now that just isn’t doing it for me. For one, American porn is just so…fake. I tried watching a people porn, and it was just like: these people clearly don’t wanna do their jobs. How am I gonna be watching porn and thinking about how these people are just phoning it in at work today? How American. Even the porn actors need a union these days, but I wasn’t trying to think about unionizing porn actors so they can get better health care or whatever – I was trynna jerk off. So, hentai it is.

So, long story short, I’m back on my freak shit, which honestly is kinda annoying because I liked feeling like an asexual asylum dweller during the pandemic. It was easy, comfortable, controlled. Now that things are reopening and I’m fully vaccinated – well, this is how I make stupid decisions. But it’s been a long time since I made a stupid decision, so wish me luck.

The History of Cancel Culture

Cancel culture is gay. I’m not sure if people know that, but it started in gay culture as a way to self-police and out rapists. This is purely anecdotal, and I don’t have any evidence apart from my rather hazy memories seeing this shit go around on Facebook. It’s a phenomenon of the Internet era, and the feminists picked it up from the gays before it went mainstream. Cancel culture was a way for marginalized communities to advocate for themselves and manage conflict without involving the police. Cancel culture used to be a good thing. I don’t know why people constantly feel the need to say “I do not believe in cancel culture,” like it’s some terrible thing. Sure, the ensuing online harassment campaigns can get out of hand. But online harassment campaigns are not a direct result of cancel culture – that’s troll farms and #gamergate. Digital armies are a tool, and everyone uses them. Sure, cancel culture is an inherently negative thing, but then again it only exists as a reaction to other inherently negative things such as a rape. Everybody loves to blame cancel culture for everything that’s wrong with the Internet: the mass hysteria, the false accusations, the group think. But, come on. That’s so overly simplistic. Sure, cancel culture is the modern version of a hanging in the town square. Everybody loves a spectacle. That’s just who we are as human beings. But this tip toe-ing around cancel culture – it doesn’t make any sense. Cancel culture existed in various iterations before the Internet – doesn’t anyone remember boycotts? Or black lists? Or planting bad PR? Or fucking law suits? People who don’t like cancel culture are the same ones who say boycotts don’t work. Boycotts don’t always work, but when they do work – well, then it’s powerful. Yes, there’s a lot of vitriol inherent in cancel culture, so I get that it isn’t for everybody. But for those of us who don’t mind doing the heavy lifting of cancellation – leave us the fuck alone! I just want to know who the rapists are so I can avoid them and my friends can avoid them. I like cancel culture because it’s a lot easier than duking it out at the bar. Now that shit was stressful. Sure, maybe cancel culture needs a bit of a rebrand – the conservatives are losing this shit with this ‘uncancel-able’ bullshit, and it’s becoming tacky. But regardless of what it’s called, cancel culture, boycotts, law suits – it’s a tool in the tool box. It’s the gun. Some people don’t know how to use it. Some people are just fucking scared of it. Some people will wind up shooting their best friend in the face just fucking around. Others will get caught trying to kill someone. But for those of us who know how to use it – well, it shoots bullets, and that’s a very useful tool if you know how to get away with murder.