I'm going to be completely selfish in this post. What's new, right?

I am far too young to have lost so many classmates to early death. Sure, I'm almost 50, (well, turning 47 this year, so closer to 50 than 40) and that's a lot more time than a lot of people get. Hell, it might be more time than most people get. I haven't looked it up.

At this point, I went to school with people who died and left behind young kids. Cancer, brain tumors, AIDS, accidents, and a bunch of suicides. Come to think of it, I think I know of more suicide deaths from my peer group than accidents or violent crimes.

Feeling the death of another classmate today.
He was a good guy, never a dick to anyone online--which is a major achievement in my world, since most of the people I know online are the occasional penis-for-brains.
Jim left behind friends and family who are devastated by the loss. I can't even imagine it.

As many of you know, my greatest fear is H dying. When something really frightens me, I sit down and try to think up all the worst case scenarios and figure out what I'd do if they happened. I've figured out zombies, alien invasion, fire, plague, nuclear war, my mom showing up here, and a militia takeover of the state. Damn glad I know people in the militia now.
But when I try to think through what I'd to if H died, all I can see is me sitting in my good chair, staring into space and waiting for someone to notice that they haven't seen me around in a while. Then I'd die. That's not supposed to get your attention or make you feel bad for me. It's rather a crushing defeat to know that after 17+ years with H, that I literally have no idea how I'd manage to live and function without him. Hilariously, most of the people I know have ONLY known me with H. Aside from family and a few classmates I talk to on FB, "Wednes and H" are the only way we exist for them.
So yeah, I have no idea how people pick themselves up and get over it. I'd probably just send messages to Patton Oswalt every day until his agent's assistant's social media manager told me to stop.


As for the rest of life, working on Hellish Calling and dealing with the Radish site not working well, or maybe me not knowing how to work it. Either way, it's slow going.

Whelp, it was fun having a president who didn't make me ashamed to be an American. I mean, look at what we've had to deal with just in my lifetime.

Jimmy Carter was awesome, but treated badly due to his "soft" nature. See, when I was a kid, it was Democrats who said we should be a "Christian nation," by which they meant feeding the poor and housing the homeless. Like many things between Republicans and Democrats, this has completely flipped. Now the GOP co-opts religion for their own purposes, but apparently THEIR Jesus has no interest in feeding people or helping them have homes. Now religion means anti-gay legislation and the closing of family planning clinics. Because...god is love?

Then Reagan. Now, I think he was a pretty terrible president, policy-wise. He funded terrorists and talked a lot of smack about the poor and gays. His wife was even worse. But at least Reagan made rich people pay their taxes. Can't get that nowadays. As much as I disliked Reagan, I wasn't humiliated at the idea that he represented my country.

Bush Sr should never have been POTUS in the first place, mainly because he ran the CIA. That's not cool. If you ever work in a big box retailer, they have a particular way the money is sorted at the end of the day. One guy calculates how much money their should be, while someone else counts how much money there is. This is to prevent theft and chicanery. Apparently, the United fucking States of America needed no such safeguards.

Clinton. Awesome guy, down to earth. Solid policies, great economic growth. All he had to do was say "Actually, what I do with my penis is not relevant to how I run the country. Next questions?" But no...he had to do a stupid lying tapdance that eventually made him a laughing stock. That sucked.

Bush 2. Do I even need to explain this one? He and Rick Perry should do a road movie where they blunder their way across the country, occasionally getting schooled by the people they've sought to oppress.

Obama. *sky opens and rainbows so bright they keep us from seeing all the drone strikes, still open Guantanamo, and lack of single payer healthcare* Yaaaay!!! So eloquent, so unwilling to cheat on his wife, so personable...

And now...this.
I still don't get it. I don't care how poor you are, how angry you feel about political-correctness (AKA basic human decency), or how really racist you are. You'd have to be monstrously stupid to think a man like Drumpf is actually interested in helping the poor and middle class. There is no metric by which Betsy DeVos, Rick Perry, Jeff Sessions, or Ben Carson are good choices for goddamn anything. You might as well put Charles Manson in charge of youth outreach, and maybe Yosemite Sam as a liaison to the NRA.

In other news, now might be a good time to buy a set of encyclopedias. People laugh at having a set of books collecting known knowledge of the world. But see, a set of encyclopedias is a snapshot of the world as we know it. It's supposed to lack bias. But if you've ever read an encyclopedia from say, the 60s, some of the biases are much more evident now. The America we enjoy now and the one we'll be left with in 20/20 may be markedly different. Might be nice to have a hard copy to compare and contrast.

The Good:

I voted. I'm so glad I did, because several analysts have said Ann Arbor was a potentially pivotal factor--as late as 11pm. We lost in the end, but I can at least know that I did what I could.

I'm gratified to see the good guys coming together, vowing to protect the vulnerable--because they're gonna need it. I'm not an especially powerful person, but if I can do something to help you or someone you know who is being oppressed, bullied, terrorized...please ask. I'll do what I can.

The Bad:

Duh, everything about losing two branches of government before they proceed to corrupt the third. I can't even express the disappointment, sadness, and fear I feel. When Obama got elected, a lot of gun enthusiasts were afraid that their guns would be confiscated, and a lot of uninformed (or lied to, Thanks FOX "news") people thought the ACA was going to murder their grandmother. Obama supporters tried to explain to those people that their fears were unfounded, and kind of silly in their unlikeliness.

But now, when Muslims, Mexicans, the LGBT community, African Americans, children, women, and everyone who isn't alt-right says they're afraid--the response from the Drumpf camp is akin to "Yeah, you should be. You people are in for it now."

Watching Trevor Noah and Stephen Colbert both try to put on a brave face was...painful. It hurt to watch. I miss Mitt Romney. Hell, I miss John McCain--and he's batshit now.

Congratulations, America.
You've really outdone yourself this time.

If nothing else, it'll be fun to see the memes you post when Drumpf only fulfills the campaign promises that fuck people over (legally protected bigotry, even further restrictions on abortion, the return of stop-and-frisk), not the ones that help the middle class and below (jobs).

Like most of us, I don't normally answer my phone when I don't recognize the number. But when it rang around 6:45 this evening, I figured it was either a telemarketer I could mess with, or an amusing wrong number. In fact, it was H's Aunt Sherry, who I don't think I'd ever talked to before.

H's grandmother, a lovely woman named Virginia (also a family name in my own family of origin) had died on Valentine's Day. We hadn't heard from her in a few months, and H was afraid to phone because he kind of expected that this was the reason. Yes, I could have phoned as well. I didn't.

I've blogged about H's grandmother before because she was such an awesome lady. Her husband had a stroke a year or so before he died, and she cared for him full time. They'd been together for over 60 years, which boggles the mind. When he died, she never really got over the sadness of it. Her heart had broken. I imagine that's exactly how I'll feel if I'm unfortunate enough to outlive H. It def speaks to my own selfishness how much I DON'T want to outlive my husband.

I didn't realize, until Aunt Sherry told me, that H and I really were in her thoughts often. She showed off all the gifts and cards we sent her over the years, and displayed our photo prominently in her home. When she went into the hospital and then to hospice, she took our photo with her (and the other grandkids) so she could look at us whenever she wanted. Even when she couldn't keep food down, she asked the nurses to apply the lip balms we sent her for Christmas. She had told me once how amazing it was that I knew how to make them. They're embarrassingly easy. I didn't realize this, but a lot of H's family think I'm a great wife and a wonderful influence on him--and that it's great of me to keep in touch with the family on his behalf.

As many of you know, H's mom and I don't see squarely on many issues. So it's nice to know that there are people in his family that are in favor of our relationship. I mean seriously, we've been together over 15 years. Get over it! H's mom is more bossy than warm, and has been married three times that I know of. I often wondered how H managed to be so kind and loving, fair and patient growing up with his mom. Upon reflection, it was clearly Virginia and her husband Fred who modeled for H what a loving and successful marriage look like. I suppose that means that I owe her a great debt.

It's my job to help come up with something for the inscription at the memorial where the ashes of Fred and Virginia will be interred together. I've got a 26 character limit including spaces. We'll see.

Aunt Sherry told me the greatest thing though. Apparently Virginia wanted to be at home among family at the end. But what she actually said was "I don't wanna go out like a punk," which meant she'd go out on her own terms. And she did.
That is just fucking beautiful.

How much more disgusted is it possible to be with one's countrymen? Every time I think I've reached maximum disgust between the Tea Party and all their nonsense, in-your-face gun activists who can't go out to dinner without packing major heat, and Donald Trump being treated as if he's actually a viable presidential candidate--I get schooled on how cowardly and terrible Americans can be.

I know plenty of Christians online and in RL--of all stripes. I know Mormons who think it's their duty to keep having more children as long as they can, even though they aren't able to support them financially. I know Baptists who were taught, and still struggle with, slut-shaming being the duty of any good parent. I know Catholics who honestly believe that using birth control is a one-way ticket to damnation. I don't agree with these things. Frankly, I doubt the veracity of those who claim to honestly adopt these beliefs as part of their worship of a purportedly benevolent god.

But here's the thing: I've been hearing for years now about how we have to do everything the bible says, lest we be immoral. Of course the people who say this don't really mean it--because they wear glasses to church, eat shrimp, don poly-cotton blends, get haircuts, etc, etc, etc. They also don't own slaves or force rape victims to marry their attackers. But hey, we have to follow at least the spirit of the bible, right? For morality? That's why we're supposed to applaud people like Cliven whatever the fuck who trespassed to graze his cattle, or Kim Davis who "took a stand" against those awful gays with all that gayness. It's because of the bible that we have to refuse to make pizzas for gay weddings or rip our kids out of scouts because the leader is gay. It's why Planned Parenthood is getting ridden out of town on a rail despite a profound and immediate need for it. Because Jesus, because bible.

But now...that war orphans, widows, displaced families are desperately seeking asylum--what do we do? "Sorry, all full. Sorry (not sorry) but none of you can come here." Shit, this cowardly bullshit is even coming from the very people who wouldn't even fucking be here if it wasn't for the US taking in refugees. I'm looking at YOU, Ted Cruz, you shrewish sack of crap. And the Anne Frank thing? It's actually true. She might still be alive now if we hadn't wanted to "stay out of it."

If you have honestly informed yourself about the Paris attacks and the overall refugee situation caused by Daesh (which was, in fact, largely caused by the good ol' US of A), and your takeaway is that they're all Muslims which means all terrorists which means GTFO? You are a monster. You aren't living by traditional Christian morality, and you sure as fuck don't believe that #AllLivesMatter despite your insistence to the contrary. As many others have said better than I: By refusing refugees, we are giving in to terrorists. We're giving them exactly what they want.

The "that's too bad, but this isn't my problem" school of foreign policy has been our ugliest export for some time. We fuck with any country that has something we want, claiming it's about 'necessary regime change' or 'exporting democracy.' But we do fuckall in countries where abominations happen all the goddamn time. Why aren't we helping oppressed Chinese workers? Or any of the other non-Paris places that have been bombed by terrorists in the last few weeks? Because we don't actually care about the people in these places. As a nation, we only care about what we can get from them.

The United States of America has the biggest, baddest, most well-funded armed forces in the world. Yet we're cowering in fear at people running for their lives from the very people we profess to hate? Are we really that lily-livered? Where are all the gun-enthusiasts who need fucking rocket launchers and semi-auto machine guns to "protect their families?" Why aren't they standing by the borders, ushering refugees in and offering to dispatch anyone who tries any terrorist shit?
No, I don't think we are entirely cowardly. But I do think we're that hateful. I think we, as a people, are absolutely callous enough to hear about refugees and think "Well who the hell told them to live in [insert godforsaken hellhole here] in the first place?" You know, the same way people say "Hey, if you didn't want to be treated like shit for 50 hours a week and still not be able to afford a doctor, why'd you choose to work at [minimum wage shithole]?"

The response to this refugee crisis is another embarrassingly ugly case of demonizing victims because it's easier to hate than to help. It's simpler to say "Hey, they brought this on themselves," than to say "Holy shit, that's awful--what can I do to help." It may be true that taking in displaced people or donating $50 won't "solve" the problem of terrorism. There will always be disgruntled assholes who think hurting people is fun and use that excuse to advance some bugfuck ideology. But what there should never be, are people who see these atrocities and say "I'd like to help, but helping might make something go badly for me, so I don't think I'll even try."

I've seen the way some of you react when your basement floods. Now imagine that your house was blown up, half your family dead, your son stolen and forced to fight for terror, and you're literally running for your life. Now imagine a bunch of comfy AF Americans sitting amid central heating, watching Netflix and eating food they can drive to the store and get without anyone shooting at them--got it? Imagine them saying that you can't stay in an empty hotel and get a cold shower and decent sleep, because they're afraid you might be the people you're actually fleeing from.
Then tell me you wouldn't fucking hate the people who did that to you.

So if you're saying that, if you're saying anything like that--stop it.
Just fucking stop.

A lot of people I went to college with are mourning the death of a classmate. A lot of the same "so young..." "such a shock," and "How terrible that this should happen to such a [kind description] person" is all over my feed.

I'm not able to get on that train. See, the person in question was a mean-spirited asshole. A goes-out-of-his-way to be cruel to strangers asshole. An I-don't-even-know-you but I'm going to spend a few minutes each week making your life hell, and then when confronted with that fact do everything in my power to pretend I didn't do anything wrong asshole.

To this late-person, I'd like to say, Yeah, it sucks at least a little bit when someone dies. Not only does it snuff out a life that some decent people might care about, but it snuffs out your chance to be a better person. Did you ever try to be better? Did you succeed? I don't know. You were such a fucking asshole to me that after college I made it a point never to think of you again. And I haven't--until I heard that you died. If you have a family, I hope they're taken care of. If you have a god, I hope s/he treats you slightly better than you chose to treat others.

From me personally though, fuck you. Fuck you right in the ear.

I'm about to complain about something. I'm going to ask this one time, that if this is something you do/have done, that you not bitch me out for having the nerve to complain about it. It's something that bugs the shit out of me, even as I realize it is not usually done with cruel intentions. I really, really need to get it off my chest, and haven't blogged about it because someone is bound to get offended.

Within the last two years, seven people I went to school with (I went to two high schools and one college) and 3 others I was friends with since college have died. Cancer, stroke, accident, suicide...one guy just keeled over and they still don't know why. It's tragic, both for the people involved, and for those of us who are forced to contemplate our own mortality.

When this happens, invariably one or more people will contact me asking me to remind them who the person was. No, I don't mean they called to reminisce about moments we shared, or discuss the legacy they left to the world. No, these people are literally saying Oh, that person you're mourning--who was that again? They've totally slipped my mind. Really?

To me, that's just gross. I've stopped answering those Emails all together. Taking the occasion of someone's death to remind grieving people that Hey, they didn't mean shit to me. I don't even know who they are is incredibly insensitive. Not sure why it's okay to be insensitive to me. Have I somehow given the impression that I'm an extremely strong person? I have no idea how that could have happened.

When Phillip Seymour Hoffman died, people actually made shitty comments about him on my page. Everything from "He wasn't that great" to "I don't think I've seen him in anything" or "I hated him in X" or even "Yeah, but do you care about all the other people who died who weren't famous?" Okay, let me say this as calmly as I can. Fuck. You. When I post how sad I am about Rik Mayall, what's the point of interjecting how you don't know who he is, or that he never made an impression on you, or that nobody should care because we didn't know him personally. Someone actually Emailed me to ask if I needed my meds checked, because I seemed so sad. Um, unless you're my doctor, go fuck yourself with your backhanded concern trolling. It's not necessary for you to Tweet to me that if he heard that I died, he wouldn't know who I was. What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?!? Yes, James Gandolfini played a mobster on TV. That doesn't mean if you're sad about his death that you're glorifying the mafia for fuck's sake.

Do people think that's okay just because it's famous people, because we don't know them personally? That implies that we don't get attached to actors, musicians, comedians, or anyone else who creates the kind of work that impacts our lives. Then there's the obligatory "don't be so sensitive," on the rare occasion that I openly take issue with that. Yes, being sad about death is SOOOO inappropriately sensitive, right? That said, I still can't watch Crocodile Hunter without feeling sad, so maybe I'm just a hothouse flower. o.O

Besides, if you're hitting me up on FB or Twitter, or commenting on my blog, or Emailing me--you clearly have access to the Internets. When I was in college, I used to be very complimented when people would ask me random facts they wanted to know. The alternative would have been going to a library or something. Plus, I have a ton of intellectual vanity. Duh. But if you have every answer to every question on earth at your fingertips--why the fuck are you asking me to explain who someone is?

Ultimately, if you don't care about something you see other people caring about--you don't owe anyone an explanation. People are probably not thinking So and so didn't post about Harold Ramis, they must not care about busting ghosts! Whether it's sports or a death or American Idol, There's no need to interject your apathy when people are already hurting (or celebrating--because that happens too, and it's just being a pseudo-intellectual party pooper). Maybe it's not universal to think that kind of behavior is rude, unfeeling, or just completely unnecessary, but I'd be much obliged if everyone would keep it the hell away from me.

On that note, I leave you with one of my favorite bits from The Young Ones. Join us just after Rik accidentally kills Neil and buries him in the garden, where he grows into three Neils.

Okay, one more. Why are the kids crying? Rik is dead, the People's Poet is dead!
But then one sensitive and particularly articulate teenager says How can Rik be dead when we still have his poems?

*sigh* Rest in peace, funnyman. I will never get over not being able to see your performance as Peeves.

Most of you who know me are aware that my initial reaction to sad things is to feel angry. Much more familiar and comfortable. So when I found out that an old ex-boyfriend of mine killed himself, I was pretty pissed. First of all, he had kids who needed him and an ex who, as far as I could tell, was allergic to managing her own life. Secondly, he wasn't dying or in constant pain--which makes killing yourself a cowardly move. Third, he had plenty of judgemental and shitty things to say about me when we were together and I was horribly depressed and suicidal.

One might think I should have more compassion for him, especially given my own suicide attempts. But I don't. I can't. All I can think is Fuck you, you were surrounded by people who wanted to help you and you didn't even try.

I was living with this dude when I began the draft for what eventually became The Finster Effect. He's actually the character Blue LeRoy in that book, as well as Count Drunkula in A Stabbing for Sadie. He never knew it though, that's actually what I was trying to catch up with him to tell him. Procrastination never pays, kids!

Maybe I'm still angry because this guy was drunk, mean, and afraid to leave the apartment without a gun. He carried a .357 in his lunch pail. Seriously. Once, he hit me in the face because I told him if he offered his 10-year-old son drugs again that I was calling the cops. I went inpatient psyche when I lived with him--because I'm not exactly the picture of mental health myself. After we broke up, I had another fucked up relationship that ended pretty badly. Three years after that, I met H and it all came together.

I'm not surprised that he is dead--though I did think it would be from drinking or drunken shenanigans than anything pro-active. His son gave me the news, so I didn't want to ask for details. I'd be surprised to learn that it wasn't a gun-death. His son has depression as well, and I really, really hope he's able to find his way through it. That's the kind of history that should never repeat itself.

I don't even want to consider what it says about me that my overriding emotion here is that I'm glad I got the hell away. How gross is it that outliving someone should be seen as some sort of triumph? My life is far from perfect, and my choices far from flawless--but I am grateful to have a nice life that's full of love. I need to remember that more when I'm having bitchy little fits over shit that doesn't fucking matter.

I was shocked and saddened earlier tonight to learn of the sudden demise of James Gandolfini. Damn. He should have had at least 20 more years of acting ahead of him. By all accounts, he was an awesome guy who was warm and welcoming to everyone. If you heard some crap about how he wasn't--do us both a favor and keep it to yourself, at least as far as this blog is concerned.

Like most people, I will remember him best as Tony Soprano. Soprano was an infuriating character that met a predictable end. But damn, I couldn't stop watching. Gandolfini has been great in lots of stuff, most notably as Juror #6 in Billy Friedkin's excellent remake of 12 Angry Men, and as Carol in the tear-jerking Where the Wild Things Are. When I had crazy mafia dreams about the Sopranos, James Gandolfini was always my dad. Take from that what you will, I guess.

As if that wasn't enough to be sad about, Stephen Colbert came back tonight with a tear-filled and touching memorial about his mom. She sounds like one of those super strong women who weathered a hard life and always looked on the bright side. Plus, eleven kids? Damn. It's sort of uncomfortable to hear Stephen speak as himself rather than the character. As a viewer, I really only hear that when he's on another news show or if something is wrong.

In non-sad news, Under the Dome starts on Monday. I'll be pretty disappointed if it's not totally badass. I saw a pic of Stephen King on the set. That certainly bodes well. Plus it almost certainly means he did a cameo. Woot! Don't forget, I'm reviewing it for GeekBinge.

Oh, how's the writing going? Funny you should ask:

Stayed up all night working on the comic I got asked to do for a thing called Resilient Brainforest. It's basically a bunch of non-comic folks trying to tell a story with some words, and B&W pictures that we created ourselves.
I had this "brilliant" idea that I'd "just" draw a few things, have H scan them, and then photoshop them together into something cool.

Turns out, that's really fucking hard.
Not only can't I draw AT ALL, but because of certain factors, it was "easier" to do in Illustrator than Photoshop. Essentially I had to cut out all my shitty drawings, move them into new files with transparent backgrounds, then shade them. At that point, I could place the in an Illustrator template (which I also had to make myself--with some assistance from H). All and all it was at least 20 hours of labor and nearly twice that of freaking out about how shitty it was going to be. Then I couldn't find a picture of a house that I had the rights to. Not having a car is a pain in the ass when it's 3:30 in the goddamn morning and you CANNOT find a picture of a house.
Anyway, it's done now. 3 panels, two of which have visual stuff in it. The one other non-spouse human I've showed it to say it was pretty cool.


This morning I woke up and found out that some crazy guy shot up a midnight screening of Dark Knight. Reactions are as you'd expect. Mostly people are shocked and/or saddened. Some Republican assholes are crapping out soundbites about how the audience should have been armed so they could shoot back, or how this is all really an attack on Romney or a way to obfuscate judeo-christian teachings. No, I have NO idea how anyone could get there from a crazy man shooting movie patrons.

I also hear a lot of people, people I know even, calling this an act of "Evil." As my regular readers know, I don't believe there's a such thing as "evil" humans. We tend to call acts evil based on either how hurtful they are to other humans, or on how difficult it is to understand the so-called "evildoer's" motives or intentions. It's one of the reasons a kid who steals a car is tried as a juvenile but one who shoots someone is tried as an adult. Shooting someone is more serious in terms of consequences. But the act itself shows no more maturity or intent--especially when you're talking about a kid of 12 or 13.

But I digress. By dismissing things like this as Evil acts perpetrated by Evil people, we relieve ourselves of the need to understand, to dig deeper and find out what the hell is going on with someone who would do such a thing. Understanding is the only path to prevention. Evil is an excuse, a made-up construct we apply to horrible things we don't understand. It's as lazy as any other stereotyping, and hurts us all just as much. This is something I discuss in my books, this one in particular. If I am actually able to influence the culture with my work, I hope I influence people to dig a little deeper, to ask a few more questions, and to keep their minds open to the possibility that things are not as simple as they're pretending they are--especially when it comes to the wide world of the mentally ill.

Mentally ill people sometimes do horrible things. They sometimes do wonderful things, things no one else would ever think of doing. This has to mean that we have things to learn from them. Please, let us not squander that opportunity by dismissing every incomprehensible tragedy as a mere act of Evil.