Jessica Wildfire's Blog, page 437

Have you seen the first 2 episodes of Blunt Talk? :) You should!

Have you seen the first 2 episodes of Blunt Talk? :) You should!

Great points here. :) It’s good to know I’m not as alone as it feels sometimes.

Great points here. :) It’s good to know I’m not as alone as it feels sometimes.

It felt a little self-serving/venty, but I was completely out of ideas yesterday. :D

It felt a little self-serving/venty, but I was completely out of ideas yesterday. :D

Trolls I’ve outmatched in real life

We call assholes on the Internet “trolls.” But let’s face it. These people do offensive shit in real life, too. For some reason, I only realized today that I’m fighting them online and offline, because our society depends on it. At one point, I thought I was just a bitch. But now I see the truth. Every troll I confront in real life is an act of public service.

People used to get shamed for the stupid, rude shit they pulled. Now, it seems like many of us feel too polite. We think calling out someone for acting like a troll makes us just as rude.

A friend of mine posted on Facebook a couple of years ago about some parents who stood by and laughed as their 8-year-old played whack-a-mole in the bread aisle at a grocery store. My friend walked up to the parents and said, “You realize your kid’s ruining all the dinner rolls, right?”

The dad started to berate him on having “an attitude,” and asked what he planned to do about it. So my friend, about six foot and 210 pounds of Duane Johnson muscle, said, “I can play whack-a-mole with your head, and see how you like it.”

Victory was his. The parents recalled their brat and absconded. But my friend felt bad, in hindsight, about resolving the issue with conflict. He wanted to know if he’d overstepped. Maybe?

But no, most of us applauded his boldness.

Is that wrong? I’m not sure. I’m still conflicted.

The good news? We’re winning the battle against trolls. This battle goes back thousands of years. It will continue for thousands more. But we’ll always win. Because trolls are blowhards. And cowards. Call them on their shit, and they’ll retreat. Unless they’re of the NRA variety. Then you should be careful.

Let me give you some more examples.

A year ago, I visited the zoo with my spouse. We walked into the large primate area, and soon began to hear a loud pounding sound. Was it a gorilla? Well, sort of. A large white male was slamming his hand on the glass over and over again. To attract the attention of an actual male gorilla.

The gorilla was sitting peacefully in the grass, right on the other side of the glass. Every few seconds, he would glance casually at the white jackass. The gorilla appeared dignified, almost regal. Meanwhile, the human looked greasy and unkempt, wearing sunglasses indoors and a big red baseball cap. So ahead of the curve.

We walked up to the guy and observed a few seconds. Then we noted the sign right above him that said, “DO NOT TAP GLASS.”

Obviously that only applied to women and liberal snowflakes. Just like every other law in America.

But still, I walked up and asked him to stop.

The guy turned around and sneered. “Oh, I guess you think you work here,” he said.

Wow, just like Twitter.

So I replied, “No. But if you hang on a few minutes, I can find someone who does.” And I pulled out my smartphone and started looking up the zoo’s phone number. Yep, I was going to report this asshole. Just like Twitter. People started to gather around us, looking at the gorilla in their midst. Finally, the guy huffed and said, “Knock yourself out,” then hurried off. Troll vanquished. I even received some thank yous from other zoo goers.

And yeah, I still reported him. Just to make sure he didn’t come back later. The whole time, the actual gorilla remained calm and peaceful.

A few months ago, I met another real life troll at a movie theater. You know where I’m going with this one. This guy and his girlfriend sat down right beside me and my spouse and started openly talking to each other for the first twenty minutes. Shit like “What’s up with this guy?” and “Oh, big mistake, pal!” and finally, “When’s the real villain going to show up?” As if they were at home, watching Netflix.

Was it just me growing irritated? No, a few glances around us revealed other people growing exacerbated by the running commentary. But they seemed helpless. If it was rude to talk during a movie, then how could you silence someone else? It was a classic Catch-22.

The only option was a loud shhhhhhh. But let’s be honest. That only works for librarians against 12-year-olds.

At last, I turned and asked the guy to please stop talking. After my audacious request sank in, he slowly blinked his eyes and then leaned forward. He breathed, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

I stood up and raised my voice. I said, “Stop talking, or I’ll get your ass thrown out of here.” To my surprise, his girlfriend intervened. She whispered some stuff into his ear. He leaned back. And we all sat quietly through the rest of the film. When the credits began, he hightailed it.

I know what you’re thinking. What film? Suicide Squad. Yeah, weird film to choose for your showdown over movie etiquette. But, hey, even a mediocre film deserves some basic decency.

There’s one other moment I can be proud of. A few years ago, I taught academic summer classes for the gifted. Basically, nerds. My people. A problem arose during lunch hour. My meek, respectful nerd students would stand in line to swipe their meal cards. Meanwhile, students from other programs like football, soccer, and dance would cut right past them in groups of three or four, as if my nerd students were invisible.

But my nerds didn’t realize. We outnumbered all the other camps 3:1. We had more than 200 students total. Twenty teachers and 20 more assistants. We could outmatch them in numbers alone. Not to mention brains.

So I spoke with the head of the dining hall, and she said she’d noticed that problem as well.

But still, the problem persisted. No matter what the dining hall people said or did, somehow the sports kids and dancers managed to browbeat everyone into submission and cut to the front of the line. You couldn’t talk to them or reason with them.

You might think I’m foolish to get worked up over a stupid lunch line. But where does it stop? If you let people cut you in lunch because they think they’re better than you, it won’t stop. Ever.

The next afternoon, a football coach was horsing around with his students in the lunch line and tripped into me. Spilled coffee all over my shirt. He turned and smirked. “Wow, that sucks.”

A pond of coffee now stood between us.

I turned to see a few dozen young nerds watching us.

I said, “Nah, this sucks.” And I threw the rest of my coffee at him. Now we were both coffee-stained. I threw my travel mug on the ground and walked ahead of him to swipe my meal card. Over my shoulder I said, “You’d better clean that up.”

And so the coach and his troupe of football players stood aside, mouths agape, as nerds filed past them, onward to lunch.

The only negative part of that transaction? I lost my mug. What was I going to do, stoop to pick it up while the coach and his buddies were still milling around? Nope. Shame, too. It was stainless steel. No small loss. Those things cost like ten bucks. Twenty if you buy from the campus bookstore.

It’s always hard to know for sure if you’re justified in your righteous vanquishing of a troll. Whether it’s online or real-life. Some of my friends have noted that I come off as a little harsh. Sometimes, maybe. I’ve worked on lowering my confrontational tone. On the other hand, I don’t think I’ll ever stop confronting assholes when I come across them. Some people respond to dialogue. Others only to bold confidence.

Think about the asshole pounding the glass at the zoo. This guy may never completely understand respect for animals, or zoo etiquette. But at least he knows that if he does something like that again, some pale bitch will publicly shame him. In these times, that has to count for something.

Exactly. :) And as we’ve seen today, religious authorities will even justify your crimes if they…

Exactly. :) And as we’ve seen today, religious authorities will even justify your crimes if they happen to be against 14-year-old girls.

What load of liberal propaganda is this? ;)

What load of liberal propaganda is this? ;)

A eulogy for Charles Manson

What can anyone say about Charles Manson? He looked kind of scary, with that swastika inked onto his forehead. But he also looked kind of hot, especially when he was younger. Like James Franco. They should get Franco to play Manson in the new biopic blockbuster.

Charles Manson said a lot of weird shit. Some of it sounded ominous. He once proclaimed that when he died, the world would end. Well, he got that one wrong. We’re still here. At least for a little while.

Actually, Manson kind of looked like Jesus. Don’t you think? A little bit. There’s probably something to that.…

Manson did a great job of freaking out reporters. Imagine sitting across from some dude who didn’t care about his life, or yours. And on top of that he was saying weird shit and acting funny. That’d make you nervous, too.

We can’t say that Charles Manson contributed nothing to society. Look at all the horror movies he inspired. And that TV show. And the books. And the t-shirts. And the websites, and so forth. And the jokes.

You probably don’t even know what Manson did. You just know the name, and what he looks like. And that he’s scary.

Charles Manson gave comedians endless material. Basically, you could slam someone hard by comparing them to Manson somehow.

You probably still can, for decades to come.

Let’s not forget how he inspired the goth-rock scene of the 1990s.

After all, we have Charles Manson to thank for Marilyn Manson. That’s where he got the name. Could you imagine the other options? The only worse guy from that era was Lee Harvey Oswald, or maybe James Earl Ray.

Think about it. Marilyn Oswald. Marilyn Ray. Nope, it just doesn’t work.

Believe it or not, Charles Manson once hoped for a career in music. He wrote dark songs about sex and death. Something something something about the tragedy of failed art. Something something something a turn to the dark side. If only he hadn’t given up.

And lastly, let’s remember that Charles Manson was far from the worst person on earth. Surely by now, we must understand that somehow our sick culture selected him as the dark hole into which we cast all of our fears, anxieties, and hatred. Evil’s a lot easier to deal with when you think you’ve locked it up in a super max, and you only see it on TV.

Manson talked about Nixon a few times. Somewhere in his twisted brain, he knew he was making a statement. Just because evil wears a tie and knows how to say the right things, that shouldn’t terrify you any less. And now, may Marilyn Manson forever rest in peace. Shit, I mean Charles Manson. Charles. Sorry about that. Now let’s break out the booze.

A eulogy for Charles Manson was originally published in The Hit Job on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A Eulogy for Charles Manson

What can anyone say about Charles Manson? He looked kind of scary, with that swastika inked onto his forehead. But he also looked kind of hot, especially when he was younger. Like James Franco. They should get Franco to play Manson in the new biopic blockbuster.

Charles Manson said a lot of weird shit. Some of it sounded ominous. He once proclaimed that when he died, the world would end. Well, he got that one wrong. We’re still here. At least for a little while.

Actually, Manson kind of looked like Jesus. Don’t you think? A little bit. There’s probably something to that…

Manson did a great job of freaking out reporters. Imagine sitting across from some dude who didn’t care about his life, or yours. And on top of that he was saying weird shit and acting funny. That’d make you nervous, too.

We can’t say that Charles Manson contributed nothing to society. Look at all the horror movies he inspired. And that TV show. And the books. And the t-shirts. And the websites, and so forth. And the jokes.

You probably don’t even know what Manson did. You just know the name, and what he looks like. And that he’s scary.

Charles Manson gave comedians endless material. Basically, you could slam someone hard by comparing them to Manson somehow.

You probably still can, for decades to come.

Let’s not forget how he inspired the goth-rock scene of the 1990s.

After all, we have Charles Manson to thank for Marylin Manson. That’s where he got the name. Could you imagine the other options? The only worse guy from that era was Lee Harvey Oswald, or maybe James Earl Ray.

Think about it. Marylin Oswald. Marylin Ray. Nope, it just doesn’t work.

Believe it or not, Charles Manson once hoped for a career in music. He wrote dark songs about sex and death. Something something something about the tragedy of failed art. Something something something a turn to the dark side. If only he hadn’t given up.

And lastly, let’s remember that Charles Manson was far from the worst person on earth. Surely by now, we must understand that somehow our sick culture selected him as the dark hole into which we cast all of our fears, anxieties, and hatred. Evil’s a lot easier to deal with when you think you’ve locked it up in a super max, and you only see it on TV.

Manson talked about Nixon a few times. Somewhere in his twisted brain, he knew he was making a statement. Just because evil wears a tie and knows how to say the right things, that shouldn’t terrify you any less. And now, may Marilyn Manson forever rest in peace. Shit, I mean Charles Manson. Charles. Sorry about that. Now let’s break out the booze.

A Eulogy for Charles Manson was originally published in The Hit Job on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Wait, so who is this Taylor Swift person?

Wait, so who is this Taylor Swift person?

Starbucks manager hopeful brags about 1,000 sexual encounters

Now that everyone’s all worked up over this sexual harassment stuff, it’s time for me to speak up on behalf of every living thing on earth that might have genitalia. Or reproductive organs. Or both.

You might be aware that last week I applied for regional manager of Starbucks Southeast. Yes, it’s a big responsibility. I’ll oversee the quality of every single one of our coffee shops in 10 states. Even if they’re just one of those places with a sign that reads, “We Proudly Brew Starbucks…” They’ll still answer to me. So you need to know about my sexual history.

Let me save you some time. Over the past 12 years, I’ve had intimate relations with a thousand different guys. Many of them happened under the influence of alcohol, narcotics, or barbiturates.

They range from the uncle who molested me when I was in high school to my first boss, who promised me a reward if I gave him a blow job in the back seat of his sedan. Sheesh, and I thought he was just offering me a ride home from work. It must’ve been a killer bj, because I got a fifty cent raise.

I’m sooooooooo disappointed in this national feeding frenzy. Come on, girls. If you’ve never woken from a drunken stupor to find a middle-aged man unzipping your skinny jeans, you haven’t lived!

In college, I starred in a dozen amateur porn videos. Unfortunately, nobody paid me and they never went viral. I mean they got hundreds of likes, but nothing on the Hilton or Kardashian level. Come to think of it, I don’t know that all of them technically count as pornos. A few of them were filmed on an iPhone. Does that count, at least as a sex tape?

Most of my sexual partners involve supervisors and men in positions of authority. Who has time to date a normal guy my age, when so many important ones want to have sex with you? And they might actually give you some reward in return? Don’t get me wrong. Most of them are fugly. They’re like a four at best. But I don’t care.

A handful of them really make me wanna puke. They’re the ones who have to slip something in my drink, or hold me down while I scream ewwwww grosss stoooop! But you can’t blame them. They’re so fugly, how on earth would they ever get laid unless they forced us a little?

Here’s how I see the whole situation. It’s like eating broccoli when you’re three. You sure as hell don’t want that green shit in your mouth. It tastes disgusting. You scream. You cry. Your parents sit there patiently and wait until just the right moment. Then zooom! Open the hangar.

Come to think of it, that reminds me how I got my first big promotion. This guy from the branch management office came down for a surprise inspection. Let’s call him Bob. He watched me brew three different drinks and complimented my frothing technique. Bob said, “I bet you could froth just about anything.” I giggled. He asked me on a date.

Bob was an average looking guy. But his name plate elevated him just high enough that I said yes.

A name plate elevates a guy 2–4 levels on the 10-point scale. At least temporarily. At some point the name plate has to come off, usually with the shirt. That’s when things get tricky.

Fortunately, there’s all kinds of sedatives.

Anyway, let’s skip ahead. After the date, he lured me up to his hotel room and then unzipped his pants. It was just like the broccoli situation all over again. Me saying ewwwww nooo groooss, and he just waited patiently until the right moment. Then zooom! Open the hangar.

Once it was in, I decided I might as well see what would happen. And that’s how you get ahead, ladies.

Ahead. A head. Get it? Ahhhhhh?

Now can we get back to the real issues? We need to come up with a plan to support Fair Trade and sustainable crops. Save the rain forests, because that’s where we grow our coffee. What happened years ago simply doesn’t matter, whether it involved consent or not. Peace.

Starbucks manager hopeful brags about 1,000 sexual encounters was originally published in BullshitIST on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.