April E. Brucker's Blog, page 16

Why I Marched

Last week I went to The Women's March in NYC. I was told by some of the white males in my life that the march was stupid and pointless. Trump was already president. What was done was done. I had to work with it.

The white men are part of the population that is never effected. They win every election. They never have to worry about sexual assault or intimate partner violence. Their reproductive rights are never questioned. Since they are not a part of an ethnic group that has been oppressed, they do not know the discrimination others do.

Instead, although we say The White Man's burden is dead, it is alive and well. And it is feeding the patriarchy that is killing us all.

Truth be told I almost didn't march. What was done was done. Maybe the white males in my life were right. Maybe it was time to accept Trump was president even though the woman I voted for won the popular vote. I and many like myself were angry after the election: that our rights were in danger and our vote didn't count.

Plus I had marched this summer in Cleveland with STAT (Stand Together Against Trump) I spent my days in the square street performing and bringing awareness and finally was at the front of the big march. It was Donald J. Tramp, a bunch of doctors, and myself. They never saw themselves being politically involved let alone being next to a puppet. We even trended on twitter that day. We were heard. Loudly, peacefully.
In the Square, a true protest chick and her puppet

I had done my marching, right?

In the words of our Cheeto in charge, "WRONG!"

I have had a lot of feelings post election. There has been the grief. As if something aka our democracy has died and a dictator has taken over. As if my vote didn't count even though I was one of the 3 million popular votes Hillary won by. Then there was the rage at the people who didn't vote that wanted to complain. There was the pure just ire with the Stein people for voting third party and essentially adding to the Trump tally. And then in part I was pissed with the Trump people, but they turned out and voted. They were a part of our broken system like I was.

Yet at the same time, my candidate had more votes and their man was in. Again, it was the system I was raging at. I pitied them more than anything and still do. They voted with sexism, faith, and fear, a deadly combo where they feared a powerful agnostic woman and instead got a madman who will get their sons blown up in his needless war.

I also wanted to know where the people protesting were in Cleveland. Where were they when we needed people to phone bank? Where were they during the voter drives? Oh I forgot, being apathetic.

Yet I was getting angry. Angry that Trump's picks were anti-woman and anti-LGBTQ. Angry at the thought of a wall as I live in a city where we have many hardworking immigrant families eager to contribute. Angry that the ACA might be repealed and that I'll lose healthcare. Angry that as a woman who was abused by an intimate partner that our commander and chief is a rapist and feels there is nothing wrong with sexual abuse.

ANGRY

Angry that my friends who were HIV positive could be denied health coverage if ACA was repealed. Angry these same friends might have their marriages declared illegal. Angry that a race of people is now being profiled. Angry that young black men are killed by the cops.

ANGRY.

I however wasn't going to DC. I had been travelling quite a bit and was tired. So when I heard there was a women's march in NYC I was on the fence. I was angry, but I had done my marching.

My mom changed the tide. A Title IX Crusader, she led a sit in so her winning swim team could get letter jackets just like the men. The captain at the time, just 21, my mom was also the media spokesperson for the cause. All they wanted was to be treated fairly. My mom told me she felt it was important I went. So I did.

It was a warm day, and Donald J. Tramp and I made the trip. Through a strange connection, we ended up behind the banner of the NYCLU. There were 500 K people who turned out in NYC alone. There were marches all around the country. There were marches all around the world. There were people saying no loudly, proudly, and peacefully to injustice. It was just as beautiful as Cleveland.

It wasn't just women. Male allies came out too to march alongside us. Men who understood sexism was wrong. Men who reminded us that while the patriarchy was oppressive, men were not the enemy. While the right would call them Betas that could not have been farther from the truth. Because a real man will march alongside a strong, vocal woman.

Being there felt magical. Being there felt important. Being there was making a statement. Not only was I marching for a cause, but I was marching into history. It was saying perhaps the system told me my vote did not count, but my voice and that of many others damn well did.


Look at me march. Donald J. Tramp is there, too
I instantly made some new friends. And we killed time as the march started an hour and a half late. The late start wasn't because of the disorganization, but because more people than intended turned out. Yes, that many people were willing to take a stand. For many, this was their first protest march. Others had been marching since childhood, even attending their first protest in strollers. There were some cases where whole families marched, children included.

The streets were crowded with people, to the point where we couldn't move. The banner and puppet hurt my arms at times, but it was important I was there behind it. Protecting free speech. Protecting satire. Protecting my right to say something is wrong.

And as we made our way, cramped like ants in an ant farm, people played music and hung flags and banners in support. As we were stopped at an intersection near Grand Central, cars honked. They weren't honking because traffic was jammed but they were rather honking in support. At Trump Towers, people protested into the wee hours of the morning.

As we marched, we didn't just march for women. We marched for young black men like Emmett Till, Yusef Hawkins, Trayvon Martin and Jonny Gammage killed by racism. We marched for immigrants so that they would be safe in our sanctuary city. We marched to let Trump know the country was not behind him. We marched to let him know it wasn't acceptable to appeal ACA. We marched to let him know to profile and ban an ethic group was what Hitler did. We marched to let him know sorry, our taxes would not be paying for the wall. We marched to tell Trump his anti-LGBTQ cabinet was also unacceptable. We marched to let him know maybe he was making our lives hell, but as tax payers we were about to make the next four years for him mightily unpleasant.

On a personal level, I marched for my Nuni (Mom's mom), who got her college diploma at age 68 and became a published poet later in life after raising 6 kids. I marched for Mema Ralph (Dad's mom) who worked in the mills during WWII when the men were away and raised 7 kids on her own after her husband died. I marched continuing the legacy of my mother, the Title IX crusader, who was part of a generation who fought against the establishment and was fearless about crushing the patriarchy. I marched for my sister, an ER doctor, who wanted to attend her local protest but was busy working, saving the lives of others. And I marched for my dad, who was also working, that as a lawyer has taken on sexism in the establishment, defending women filing sexual harassment lawsuits against the Donald Trump's of the world.

I can also say that I had other family members who marched in their cities, my cousin in Atlanta and my cousins gf in Pittsburgh. We marched. We showed up. We were heard. We were counted.

My marching is not done, but rather the protesting is beginning. This is America. It is a melting pot. We are a nation of immigrants. Of all colors. Of women. Contrary to what Trump preaches, we all count.

We said so on all seven continents, even  Antarctica. We have support everywhere.

We are starting the movement. To the protesters at JFK, I was unable to come today but you have my support. Lastly, there have been people wanting to shut down my shows because of my message and my political humor. They are welcome to try. But I am a nasty, nasty woman. I am a nasty woman with a message. The message is always given to the one with a big mouth and my puppet's mouth is huge. I will not go gently into this goodnight, and I will not go quietly either.

There was even a Women's March in Antarctica


xoxoxo
April
The Lady and President Tramp
February 20, 2017 7PM
Dont Tell Mama
343 W 46

Another Night (Aretha Franklin)

A while back I was talking to someone I consider one of my best friends. He had the opportunity to have revenge sex with his ex-wife's sister soon after the divorce. From what I gather his ex wife wasn't bad, but they were just two people who didn't belong together. His ex wife also seems like a goody goody who was perhaps too nauseating. I dunno, I can only go off of what he says.

Her sister on the other hand, was a big ole pAArty girl with an even bigger coke habit. His ex had a love/hate relationship with her sister. While she was her sister, she disapproved of her fast moving lifestyle. My buddy admitted that the few times his ex's sister tried to quit partying, she was even more annoying sober. Oh isn't that always the fun case. Fun Bobby and Alcoholic Bobby....sigh McSigh Sigh.

Anyway, I said to him, "Dude, the revenge sex was right there, you should have taken it."

"Nah, that would have meant putting up with my sister in law and she annoys the piss outta me. Trust me." My buddy replied.

"Well it would have hit your ex where it hurt." I informed him.

"No, my ex knows her sister can be a bit fast so the joke would be on me." He said.

"That's what you think. Her sister probably always stole guys from her and was prettier and more fun. Trust me, she would have been breaking everything in the room and shaving her head. You should have done it." I insisted. It was true, his ex's sister was pretty. Granted, she looked kind of nuts but she was beautiful. His ex wife was cute......but her sister was drop dead gorgeous in that I'm gonna cut yo dick off kind of way.

"Why, what would I get out of it?" He asked.

"The bitch broke your heart! She made you miserable. Now it was your turn to crush her self-worth." I told him, thinking I was schooling him.

"Nah. I don't want anyone to be with me that doesn't want to be. My heart is fine now that she's gone. I'd be miserable if she was still here."

MIC DROP

Fast forward a few weeks later. I was running an errand and was just about done for the day. Glancing across the street I saw a familiar face. I couldn't place them. Whoever it was gained quite a bit of weight. Then I recognized him. It was an ex boyfriend of mine. One who I loved and one who lied. One who crushed my heart after he ripped it out of my chest and pissed on it. Bad heart break.

It was the kind of heart break where there was a time I would have had to fight not to strangle him. It was the kind of heart break where if there was a food item around, it would have probably flown towards him at one point.

It was a WTF moment because I did not intend to see that ex, and actually hadn't thought of him for a while. The last time I got an update was this summer when I saw an old friend who also hates his guts. But after that I forgot. It was the past. Whatever. He was such a bad memory that when the heart break faded I cringe and laugh. But either way, he kind of just popped out of no where.

He gained a ton of weight, and he was someone who was riding that life ruining Casanova ticket to the moon. Either he was on psych meds or God hates the same things I do. I studied him for a brief second. Damn, time had really not been kind to him. To say the boy got ugly was an understatement.

I remembered the lies he told when we were together. I remembered the cheating. I remembered how he sent his lady friends after me to say nasty things. All of it. And then I glanced at him. He was working a dead end job and he was a loser. LOSER. Oh and he also supported Donald Trump I heard. It's been years since we have spoken. But people told me.

LOSER!

What the frekkkk did I see in him? What was I thinking? AHHHHHH!!!!

Then they say they are an ex because you ex them out of your life. I had the opportunity to get with his best friend who annoyed the piss out of me. He also had a brother who was into me. Hell no. I glanced for another second before walking away before he could see me.

I was glad I didn't end up marrying him. He was still no where. Not to mention he was probably still a liar and a cheater. And he had totally gotten ugly. Or maybe his outsides were becoming his insides and he was now the full blown rat he always was.

My buddy's words echoed in my mind. "My heart is fine now that she's gone. I'd be miserable if she was still here."

Then I realized not only was the break up for the best (I already knew that but sometimes you need to be reminded), but I wouldn't slit my wrists without him. I would probably slit my wrists if he returned.

MIC DROP

Seasonal Maladjustment and Other Business

If you have ever walked the tight rope known as 12 Step and self-help, you know about HALT: Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. They should highlight Tired. I make all my terrible decisions when I am tired. Once when I was tired I withdrew my rent out of the wrong bank account putting myself almost 2 grand in the red. It was bad. I had to call my mom like an asshole.

Yes, nothing says asshole like calling your mom to tell her what a fucktard you have been as an adult. But moms are moms. They are always there like parachutes to rescue and hot air balloons to lift you up.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind.

Work was busy before leaving NYC for Christmas. Then during Christmas my mom was sick, so I couldn't rest as much because she needed the assistance. I would have been a complete asshole if I wouldn't have stepped up. How many times has my mom stepped up for me? Plus the docs feared she had pneumonia which is no joke. Needless to say I didn't get much rest during the holiday.

Then I was in Vegas working and rehearsing for the APAP showcase performance of The Lady and President Tramp. It was rehearse, rewrite, rinse, repeat. In between I was getting threats on twitter and the venue was getting threats too. Never a dull moment.

Then I went to APAP, did some reporting for Clyde Fitch, did my showcase.....success.

However, the next few days were spent trying to recover. I got onstage right away and thought I was okay. But then I couldnt sleep. I tried but my phone buzzed, people called. I found a new Lifetime movie. I was too wired to sleep.

Finally Friday I forgot what time zone I was in. I forgot my groceries at the supermarket. I dropped my keys on my front stoop and left them outside. I got into a fight with someone I care about who's my heart in a lot of ways. When I say fight it was a big fight......so big I didn't know if they would be talking to me the next day.

Luckily Tylenol PM was to the rescue. I slept until almost noon when my landlord woke me up to tell me he made too much coffee. And then he told me about his latest UFO theory. I managed to complete my errands the next day without dying or falling asleep on my feet. Bonus, I knew what time zone it was.

Yesterday, I managed to patch things up with the person I cussed out who compared me to an infant throwing a tantrum.....ouch, and they were even kind enough to laugh me off.

Either way, I got some decent rest this weekend and put in some self-care. Now to get my show back up again, find a pianist, enter it into festivals, and make some videos. Oh you got to eat that elephant one bite at a time. Did I mention I am releasing a calendar and book?

Sigh, no rest for the weary. 

Death Threats and Other Things

The Lady and President Tramp had it's New York debut at Don't Tell Mama this past Sunday. LEading up to the show, there had been some fireworks on twitter. A man claiming to be a delegate from Michigan threatened me, and then emailed the venue saying that if they didn't pull my show he would go to the press. This individual who called himself Jack Holmes said he would take me and my message down.

He didn't. The venue didn't pull the show.

However, Don't Tell Mama received several aggressive messages, some death threats, on their facebook page. I didn't know about this until I got to the theatre. To say things were crazy is a complete understatement.

The night of the show was actually successful. At first it didn't look like it was going to be because my tech was a mini disaster. However the show itself was marvelous. The audience LOVED IT! We are even talking about doing a run. Life is good. As a bonus I didn't get shot.

The venue administration was amazing in standing behind me this entire time. When others there were panicked, the owner said the show must go on. It's free expression. It's what America is about.

Now that being said, today I feel a little unimportant. No one is threatening me. I always knew I would be close to a bullet in some way for my outspokenness. This is not the first time. However, it is the first time I could picture the bullet. That in itself was a little scary.

I have a show tonight where I am Lady Gaga. I'm not being political. My mom is relieved.

Someone sent me a message that they saw my show and it wasnt good. This person was a pro-Trumper. Who knows if it's true. People are so tough behind the internet. Either way, it has been an entertaining past few weeks.

Donald J. Tramp and Hillary Clifton debate

The Last 24

The last 24 hours have been very trippy, almost like a strange experience with acid but not quite. I have been extremely busy as of late. One getting the show mounted. Getting up. Working. Trying not to die being me. The usual.

Wednesday night I did a bud's show. I was tired but one thing is I am good on my feet. I have gotten even better this year as I have disciplined myself with my craft in a way I have not in a while. So as I performed I went on a rant about Snapped. The crowd dug it.

Needless to say someone there captured it on video. They tweeted it. The narrator of Snapped got a kick out of my little rant. Watch here https://www.facebook.com/eddie.jones....

However, the fun on social media was just beginning. Thursday night, as I was doing some publicity for my show, I was minding my own business just tweeting something. Through my efforts I have over 20K followers and am working on getting my account verified.

Anyway, out of no where Roseanne Barr attacks me. Yes, the Roseanne. She begins ripping into me. I didn't agitate her. As I said I was minding my own business in the twittersphere. Anyway, she is attacking me for no reason. So I start to fire back just to defend myself.

As if that's not enough, she starts liking and retweeting my tweets as she is fighting with me. I am like WTF is going on. And then she just blocks one of my followers for telling her off. The bitch is off her rocker. So she calls me a troll. I tell her pot calling the kettle black. She calls me a name. I tell her that's funnier than the time she falsely accused her family of molesting her. She takes several minutes to get back to me. Yeah, I went low but she kind of deserved it. In between I also brought up her horrendous rendition of the national anthem.

After which she says something else and I remind her she's out of work, that's why she can fight with me. Then she quotes my profile, and I tell her that she was better when Tom Arnold was writing for her.

BAM!

Roseanne blocks me.

It wasn't me reminding her of her false incest claim. Nope. Not even the fact she wasn't working. It was Tom Arnold. That was the knockout punch.

Sigh. When she blocked me I tweeted, "I was just blocked by Roseanne Barr. Now I have to explain to a whole generation who Roseanne Barr is."

Today a comedian friend told me she too was blocked by Ms. Barr. I think a lot of people are. My manager said he would have been more impressed if I got into a twitter fight with someone relevant.
Still, it was kind of funny.

Only on twitter

Only in America

Only in the 21st Century.

Oh Lordy Lordy Lordy 

18 Cents......

Yes, that is a real Christmas song. My dad and his family used to sing it when I was a kid. Apparently unknown artists before the days of the Countdown Singers put out little records. 18 Cents is the most depressing Christmas song ever. It's about this poor kid who has no money except for 18 cents and how he divvies it up. But damnit, 18 Cents is our depressing Christmas song.

I am glad 2016 is almost over. I am so tired I feel as if I will die some days. There are moments where I want someone to throw a blanket all over me. Yesterday I was so exhausted that I nearly fell asleep in the train station. That would have been a bad idea, but eh.

Lately, I have been running around so much and there has been so much to do. I have been dealing with folks overseas. Then I have been getting ready to showcase my show The Lady and President Tramp at APAP. I have been interviewing piano players who work everywhere and are more tired than I am. In between I have been getting onstage and delivering telegrams. Today I interviewed a young woman still covered in my Lady Gaga sparkles. I know, STABLE.

I asked her about her life as if I had the right to judge anyone covered in my sparkles. She lived with her boyfriend. I asked how their relationship was because I had a piano teacher who broke up and wouldnt get out of bed. This is why I don't know how to play piano. She said things were fine. I said I had to ask. Then I remembered I was covered in sparkles. I was in no place to judge anyone anywhere.

Two weeks ago, I did a podcast with an Irishman who was recording me from a bathroom in Poland. It's not what you think, often the bathroom is the quietest place in the house. I have a soft spot for the Irish because my dad's family is Irish. Heck, my pop's himself is the stereotypical Irishman in a lot of ways. His dad even more so.

Either way, I am ready for 2016 to be over. I am ready to hear my mother's lecture about how I need more protein in my diet. I am ready for my father to shame me about my life choices as we watch Big Battles and I admire his train platform. I am ready for my male younger cousins to tell me about how they realized recently that women were jealous. (Honey, we all jealous). I am ready for one of my female cousins to have a meltdown over a guy and spill the truth via eggnog. And I am ready to tell her at least he went away on his own, you didn't have to get the cops involved.

I am ready for my cousin to get out his trump and to start playing 18 Cents

Here is the link to the podcast I did with the Irishman from his bathroom in Poland. Enjoy. http://thecomedycast.com/podcast/the-...

Mean Girl Etc.

I have something that has been weighing on my mind. A few years ago I had a friend and now ex friend who was super supportive of me and my efforts. We had a lot in common. It's hard for me to have female friends because I am a very independent woman. A lot of girls need a clique and I don't.

I wasn't a Beta Female who was spineless and needed a man. Then again, I wasn't an Alpha who had to be ahead of the wolf pack either. More or less I am and have always been an Omega Female. I don't need the company of friends, but they are good to have. I can keep up with the guys while preserving my female side. Not to mention I love my alone time, and often out perform an Alpha any day of the week.

Anyway, in my experience my better friends have been males, gay and straight. But occasionally I make a good female friend and I do keep them. I thought this girl was gonna be one. She was ballsy. She was a good writer. She was funny. She was helpful. She was happy for me.

And then one day she blocked me on twitter.

I didn't know she had done this until I saw her on the street acting all shady. At the time she had a wonderful freelance gig and I figured I would drop her a line on twitter. That's when I found out she blocked me. Yeah, I would be shady to someone I blocked on twitter too.

But what had I done?

Had I said something bad?

Had I offended her with my actions?

Did her fragile ego, one who's writing was constantly being rejected, get hung up because my book was published and her's wasn't? But she was happy when my book went to print.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Anyway, I found out through the grapevine that she met a total creep and her whole world has become about him. This idiot she married was accused of sexually assaulting a girl when he was in college at some small school. Instead of just letting it die because the girl dropped the charges and changed her story, and maybe it was a drunken encounter where a conversation wasn't had, she proceeds to destroy this girl on social media. When I say destroy she attacked her on twitter, facebook, instagram.

As if that wasn't enough, her husband didn't like her dog. So I also heard she poisoned her dog. This dog had behavioral issues, but I remember she loved it. Well when her man came into the picture she started locking Mr. Pugs in the bathroom.

Needless to say, I feel like I dodged a bullet with this girl. I do believe I will find solid female friends and good female friendships are possible. Just not with this bitch. She's a mean girl, one who never got out of high school. She's about empowering other women until they get to be a threat. She's about being confident until there's a man. She's about destroying anyone or anything who gets in the way of her relationship.

She's nothing I want in my life. That's for damn sure. 

Name Calling, Etc

As many of my readers know I became very involved in the election this past year. So involved when you throw a topic at me I am almost as knowledgeable as Anderson Cooper without the hefty paycheck. I have learned many of these issues are not quite black and white but a huge brush stroke of gray.

For example, I am pro-choice. I am all about abortion access. My body, my say. A fetus is not a person under the US Constitution nor should it be. If a man can walk away why can't I? Many women are forced to go through with a pregnancy by an abusive partner who wants to hold onto them. Often times, people have abortions because the child has a health issue that will make their lives either short or unbearable. It's not an easy choice.

But I respect the pro-life side of things and felt that way for nearly the first 16 years of my life. I even gave out the white ribbons at the Catholic Church I attended as a young girl. However, over time I saw that the bully boy Republican lawmakers, mostly male, pressured women into going through with the pregnancy via legislation. Their evil, masked behind religion and sexism, was used to torture women. And these cock sure men were also the first to cut education programs that could help these young women leave poverty. The paradox behind Jesus made me ill. This is when I became pro-choice.

However, I do advocate for adoption. We need to make it easier for people who want to adopt. Heck, I have 6 cousins who are adopted so I can testify that my aunts and uncles gave these children wonderful homes and were amazing parents. Being a parent is far from giving birth, that's just a small sliver. It's being there in sickness and health and always and forever until you no longer walk this Earth. Someday, if I am to be a mother to real beings, I would honestly be more inclined to adopt or foster than bear a child of my own. It's because the pro-life movement doesn't account for the abused, unwanted children who are Constitutional Citizens who fall through the cracks.

Whenever I tell this to people they yell and scream. I'm a murderer. I'm a baby killer. Have I never seen a video of an abortion being performed. God will judge me harshly. Over the years I have had a lot of people ream me outline, friends, and they have disfriended me. We can't agree to disagree. We can't say the issue is gray. I am a baby killer plain and simple. Ya!

Sure, I support the mother's choice not to have the child. I support the mother's choice to give it up for adoption. I support someone's choice to keep the kid as long as there are programs to benefit them. But I am big on women knowing their rights regardless.

A childhood karate buddy and facebook friend is an evangelical Christian. She is pro-life to begin with, but she had a child who was born premature. This woman feels that if her son could survive at 28 weeks, that's a full term person. I am not going to tell her she's wrong. If anything it adds another layer to the whole complicated issue. For me to even debate her stance on this, her experience, would make me or anyone else a judgmental monster. And to her credit, our views could not be more different, but she was able to appreciate my point of view. She also didn't resort to name calling. That's what America should be about.

This election in general has made bitter enemies of some I used to call friends. I was called a libtard by some because of my activism against Trump. Others resorted to saying I deserved to be raped, cowards online more or less. All because I spoke my mind. I guess they were speaking theirs, and their insults laid claim that they really and truly had nothing to say. One man who had a KKK avatar messaged me saying, "Respect our next president you cunt," when I initially released a Donald J. Tramp video.

The hood over the head was scary. Anything hate group related always is. It's a level of evil that is based on both ignorance and fear that we can never fathom. Yet the hood over the head also led me know this was an idiot who was easily manipulated that had nothing to say. He had nothing to back him up. Of course he called women the c word. A woman with an opinion was a dangerous thing.

My political point of view tends to be more socialist. I am light pink. While I can appreciate Marxism, I know it does not fully work. Yet like a lot of Americans I will not demonize it either. The only reason I registered as Democrat is we have a two party system we need to work with.

I posted what I believed to be a very objective tribute to Fidel Castro. No, he wasn't perfect. He was a dictator. However, he got rid of the color stuckedness issue in Cuba. For the first time the black Cubans, second class citizens, had the same rights their white counterparts did. He also educated the people and gave them universal healthcare. Castro wanted a free Cuba for the Cubans like Ho Chi Minh wanted a Vietnam for the Vietnamese without Western influence. And yes, Batista was our man, because he let us swing our imperialist dicks around and dip our dirty fingers in his water. I told the truth.

I got some support but I was told by a lot of people that I "did not understand history." That I had never spoken to a Cuban. Yes I have. My deceased best friend was Cuban, and his family disliked Castro but told me Batista was much worse and kept the people racially divided. More Cubans in the US are white than black. The white Cubans were more or less political exiles and of course hate Castro. And as for me not understanding history, I debated becoming a history professor. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire was my bedtime story as a child. I understand history a hell of a lot better than you.

Then there were those who kept telling me I was a stupid American. And they kept going on and on about the people in boats. Yes, the people on the tires. Let me point out that's bad. But we killed more blacks in the middle passage as we embraced the progressive immigration policy of displacing one ethic group solely to be slaves. Before importing slaves was made illegal, we also worked these people to death because we figured they could be replaced. And then when importation was made illegal, we bred them for work in the field and ripped their families apart time after time because they were not full persons under the law. Now we have one of the highest incarceration rates in the world, most of those convicts young men of color who don't know their rights.

Let me not even get into how we massacred or killed off with disease The Native Americans. Our record is nothing short of terrible in America. We have no room to criticize anyone at any time.

Andrew Jackson literally killed off an entire tribe of Native Americans by himself. He also initiated The Trail of Tears where many more died. Additionally he was a terrible sexist and brutal slave owner. Not a nice man, but a hero of our history. He's on our $20. Castro's no hero but he pales in comparison to Jackson.

Then there are those who challenged me that Castro censored artists. Yes he did but we censor the art and media all the time in the United States, and our coverage is nothing less than biased. Additionally, yes he put HIV positive people in quarantine. But Reagan denied HIV/AIDS and millions of Americans died. Some even argue the AZT killed more people than HIV/AIDS, and the government knew this and was eager to rid themselves of the demon of the homosexual. If this is true, it makes us worse than Castro could ever be. Sure, he was terrible to homosexuals. Yet we listed homosexuality as a mental illness in the US until the 1960s and then subjected young LGBTQ kids to conversion therapy for years......abuse of the worst kind. Yet we wag our finger at Cuba for being such bad, bad people. Double standard much, Miss America?!

And then let me add as I tried to make these points I was a traitor. Don't think so, just telling the truth. I was also a Communist. Eh, maybe I am as long as it pisses you off. People were going to try to set me straight. You are more than welcome to. That is when I just finally stopped answering. I know I am telling the truth.

As for those families affected by Castro, not excusing him. But unfortunately that is the bi-product of political unrest and revolution at times. We see it constantly in the developing world. Heck, we are about to see it here with a Trump presidency. So let's not judge because we have a superiority complex.

Heck, when Marx wrote "Religion is the opium of the masses" he might have been on to something. We use religion to keep people in their place constantly. We used it to preach that segregation was good for blacks and that gays were evil. We use it to control women's wombs at the government level. We use it as a mask for the sexist, racist notion of The White Man's Burden. While I am not totally for it as a spiritual woman, maybe not having it isn't the worst idea.

Then there is the subject of burning the flag. People tell you that you're UnAmerican if you burn a flag. Personally, I think you should be allowed to but feel it's lazy protesting. There are people who feel you should be in jail. Trump wants to take away your citizenship. Makes me want to torch one just because.

There are the idiots who use the argument that the troops died for our freedom. Not since the Revolutionary War have the troops died for our freedom. Mexican American War was Manifest Destiny. The Civil War was to preserve The Union. Spanish American War was imperialism. Both World Wars were imperialism. Vietnam was imperialism. Both the Gulf War and this conflict were imperialism.

I do respect those who lost their lives in battle, and feel for their families. I regard their sons as heroes because our government cheats the vets whenever they can. Plus as an American I do support them because I know there are also layers to the story we do not get and they are pawns. That being said, stop saying they are fighting for our freedom. It isn't true!

Also, unless you are white and male America is not always the paradise it is painted as. When your rights are denied and you feel there is injustice maybe a flag needs to be torched to make a point. While I feel perhaps you should run for office or join a peace rally, people are also pushed. Just like the minutemen were pushed. Actually, these farmer soldiers, untrained but sick and tired of being sick and tired, would probably actually be for flag burning. We are a country built on protest. So I say don't tread on me. And if that means torching the flag do it.

This past week I have been called a stupid cunt by a comic I once liked who defriended me online. Another called me a psycho, and this was one who used to be a nice dude before he decided to swing for Trump and left reality. One man who was a former club owner who let his club run into the ground called me a slew of names, one being failure. (His 5 businesses that went into bankruptcy could say if you spot it you got it).

Several people told me to get on a flotilla and go to Cuba. "Go somewhere else."

Eh, you mean somewhere that people can have a discussion without calling each other names? I think I will go there. And I think the loss of your friendship is no real loss. I can appreciate different ideas. I can appreciate discussion. But I don't appreciate name calling. Just saying, kids.

The Greater Good

This past week, I did a show at Carmen Road School. It was a nice little jaunt out of the liberal bubble I call my backyard. The school is a special needs school in Massapequa Park, NY. I took the LIRR and off I went.

The school services students with developmental disabilities whether it be physical, mental, or in some cases both. Students in the school are up to 21 years old, because some kids with an IEP get longer to finish. Anyway, I had no clue how this would alter my week in the most positive of ways.

Before the show, I ended up talking to the comedians. A lot of them, unlike my little liberal bubble, had voted for Trump. I feared I would be shot for bringing Donald J. Tramp. They told me I was fine, I was in suburbia. Had a laugh about that.

The show itself was a fundraiser for the PTA. The audience, composed of parents who children were students, were wonderful and laughed the entire time. There was also not one weak link in the lineup. The show was a wonderful breath of fresh air, as it was composed to people who aren't in my usual orbit. Comedians from LI tend to focus on jokes more than "being real." That is a thing particular to NYC comedy.

I watched the entire show, and learned a lot from this talented group of people. City comedians tend to get personal and deep, while Long Island comics tend to have more fun actually. Again, it's always good to get out of your bubble. The parents were nice, and even wrote us all wonderful thank you cards.
Look at the whole crew of us! 

Afterwards, I was speaking to one of the parents. He told me his son played wheelchair soccer. I had to applaud the staff and the teachers for all they did for these kids. Sure, they were disabled, but it didn't mean they weren't able. Life is about doing the best you can with what you have. It's amazing how much they were able to do for these kids, and how hard their parents were willing to fight for them. It was a blessing to be a part of that effort, even if it was for a brief wrinkle in time.

Right now, what the world needs is more people doing the right thing for the right reasons. There is so much hostility on both sides post-election. It's to the point where I need to take a break from the internet more often than not. So what we all need now is a little kindness and a little laughter.

Donald J. Tramp received a mixed welcome as this was a red county. However, May Wilson swooped into save the day. Everyone loves a party girl.

Either way, thank you to Carmen Road for an incredible experience. And thank you to the comedians who performed, and Joey Petroni for organizing.

April n May

Flag Burning......

This past summer in Cleveland, Donald J. Tramp and I stood in the square entertaining. As spokespuppet for STAT (Stand Together Against Trump), he told jokes to the crowd as I was decked out in my cutoff shirt and braved the heat. All because I felt the need to express my dismay at a Trump candidacy.
For the most part, the square was nonviolent. The cops relegated people to two sides: Pro-Trump and Anti-Trump. It was like a music festival more than anything; Lollapalooza with a political feel. The Trump people had their guns attached to their hip, doing the inbred thing with pride. Some took photos with Donny. Actually, a lot were just soaking up the day. It was history for all of us. I had a lot of respect for those who I disagreed with, because we were all in the heat speaking our minds because The Constitution gave us that right.
Since our job was to give our water to anyone protesting, many a Trumpkin drank STAT water. And many of us drank Jesus Water aka Trumpkin water. It’s an unwritten rule that even though we disagreed, we respected the guts we all had. Because once you get vocal about your politics, you have people in every direction turning their back on you. Welcome to free speech. Welcome to America. There was one group, Rev Com, or Revolutionary Communists. While the Trumpkins had their guns strapped to them, Rev Com were the kind of protesters who showed up just to get arrested. During the march, when they joined, several members of STAT exchanged worried glances and someone whispered, “Oh no. Here comes Rev Com. They can get violent.”
Yes, these disorganized, idiotic, super paranoid, nutcases who probably had the bones of Karl Marx in their basements crashed the march that STAT had gotten permits for. Even when Westboro Baptist showed up to the bridge to protest STAT (your protest always has a protest) we never yelled back let alone responded. Now Rev Com was here. It was like it was our birthday, they were too broke to have their own, so they added their name to our cake. However, we had to roll with it.

Getting my puppeteer protest on

Days before, a girl who was with Rev Com had attempted to light a flag on fire. In her quest to express her anger over Trump, she was going to make a statement. Well instead she lit herself on fire. The cop, who was witnessing this screamed, “You idiot, you’re on fire!”
Promptly putting out the fire on her sleeve he apprehended the flag and ordered, “Go home, you’re done for the day.”
Up to that point I had been politically active. I canvassed for an out lesbian politician the day DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) was struck down. There was dancing in the street in the West Village where I was. I wrote about domestic violence for The Huffington Post, giving my input as a woman who survived a partner who was physically violent. I even marched in Pride supporting my LGBTQ friends. However, I had never been at an event where a flag was burned. My rage and passion let alone that of anyone around me had ever gotten to that level.
The day of the march, Trump accepted the nomination. We were on the green when we were approached by a Black Lives Matter activist. A young man about 22, he informed me that someone had been arrested for burning a flag. He told me there was a march to the jail as they were going to break this would be revolutionary out, and he was inviting me to come.
What could possibly go wrong?
I was indignant that he was arrested for expressing himself. Maybe tyranny was taking over. Yet I knew the march to the jail could only end badly of course. The members of STAT around me looked into my eyes, begging me to refuse the invite. I did.
As he left, the people around me looked relieved. We had a laugh. Yes, we were peaceful. The whole day had been peaceful and wonderful. However, the laugh was short lived when I saw out of the corner of my eye the young man who had approached us was being coached by Rev Com. An older hippie informed him, “My first protest, ha! My first arrest, never!”
Seconds later, the older hippies began approaching people informing us the man in the jail was arrested for burning the flag. My mentor, who is an ex cop, was with me. He told me flag burning is legal. However, he was sure there was more to the story. Googling, he found the arrestee had tried to light a flag on fire but failed. However, he had decided the next prudent action was to assault a cop. Needless to say that got him arrested.
I became sickened by the pot stirring, intentional misleading of this group. They had used the young man from BLM. And they got their message out by any destructive means possible. It made me ashamed to share the green with them. STAT had been so peaceful and purposeful with the protest, and we were positive. We believed in what we did, and we know that we were heard.
Rev Com was just there to cause trouble. It made me ill that a cop had to tend, while someone elsewhere in real need was probably terrified or bleeding to death because their hands were being tied by these whackos.
I thought of heroes like Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Bobby Sands, and Ghani who protested peacefully. Their message not only resonated, but therein could bring about the conversation of change. After the conversation came the change itself.
I will not stop anyone from burning a flag. It is their right. I will also not tell them how to feel, their rage is also their right. Their pain is their own and I will not dare to condescend to tone police. Yet I will say that the louder you scream the less likely you are to be heard. And the more you scream the less you have to say. And the less you say the more you inhibit the needed conversation.

So can you burn the flag? Yes. Should you burn the flag? Up to you. Do you need to burn the flag? In my opinion there are better ways to be heard. Just saying. It’s all up to you.