New Year, New You: Don’t Do It

Well let us begin with a friendly HAPPY NEW YEAR! Now that we’ve got that out of the way we can discuss what our resolutions are, or, what we’re going to better this year. Think about yours, close your eyes, count to five, and allow me to inform you that it is complete bullshit. Self-improvement is a wonderful thing, but using January 1st as a starting point is a foolish move. You’re not going to accomplish what you hoped for, unless you’re one of the small percent of people who do actually accomplish new year goals (it’s rare as balls). Pick a time of year and day of your liking to start your goals. For now let’s take a look at the most common New Year resolutions and say, “don’t do it.”

  1. giphy-1Lose Weight: What a fantastic fucking idea! Why didn’t anyone else think of that? It’s been on your mind all year anyway so let’s go to the gym the most crowded time of year! You can start this when you are really motivated to do so. As a New Year resolution, don’t do it.

  2. giphy-4Change Eating Habits: I pull this information from sources that are the same, because it’s all based on conversations I have with other people. This one is the worst/the best. Same rule applies to losing weight, you’re only setting yourself up for failure by forcing it as a New Year resolution, don’t do it. Some of the cleanses and diets sound.. well… yucky.

  3. smokingQuit Smoking: This is a fantastic idea! Problem with it is that most successful quitters without relapse don’t do it as a New Year resolution. Another common one that might as well get flushed down the toilet because I’m tired of all the damn lies, don’t do it. Seek assistance, only the overly stubborn can do this successfully on their own.

  4. giphy-3Do more exciting things!: Looks like you’re off from work on MLK day, and there you are binge-watching another TV show. If you’re the boring type, stop lying to yourself saying you’ll do more exciting things, don’t do it. In fact, things you see others doing that you think are exciting might be boring to you. Cut the crap.
  5. giphy-5Find Love: Oh sweet lord of all that is annoying, don’t do it. Let this happen, if you’re forcing it as a New Year resolution you’ll find yourself opposite of some screen crying as you fap furiously in to the night, wondering why you’re so awful. You probably are, but that’s not the point, the point is don’t lie to yourself as if you have some sort of magic juju that will make the love of your life suddenly appear.

New Year’s resolutions are lame so make the world yours. Make it the best year ever and accomplish whatever you want on your terms, and get to the doctor to make sure you’re not going to die.



If Trump Destroys Your Sex Life, It’s Your Problem

Laura Hooper Blecch

Recently, a writer for decided to share the sordid details of the rapid decline of her mental health and sex life with her husband, a man, all due to anxiety over the 2016 election; more specifically, Donald Judas Trump.

Laura Hooper Beck could be mentally unstable, bordering on dangerous. Who knows for sure? Only the gods, and possibly her sexless boring husband. But she’s not boring–and she’ll go to great lengths to tell you how full of sexy sex fun she is when she’s not picturing Donald Trump grabbing her by the pussy.

But here’s the rub…the pussy-rub if you’re feeling adventurous: If Trump is destroying your sex life, it’s your problemBecause the joy and uncertainty and excitement of this election process should be sending a tingling through your loins if you’re into it…and if you’re just a normal person (read: shouldn’t be voting, anyway) you shouldn’t be invested enough to let it effect your chemistry in the first place.

But Laura Hooper Beck isn’t a normal person. And that is what I’ll set out to prove.

Exhibit A: On Laura’s personal page she describes herself as a “fat redhead” and contributor to various “magazines” including Jezebel (go figure), “sexxxy lady magazine” Cosmopolitan (which we’re going to explore), and “vegan lifestyle blog” (red flag) Vegansaurus!


She’s desperate to be a sitcom writer and she’s available for hire; if you can live with having an erratic fat redhead in your writer’s room (which…let’s be honest…you can’t).

Before I go all in, I’d like to make clear that I’m sure Laura Hooper Beck is a capable human being (despite all evidence to the contrary). She has an impressive resume, and I’m certain that if she gets the help she needs (up to, and including a team of world-class psychiatrists), she may…one day…be a functional member of society. Her largest faults (pun intended) seems to be her self-depreciation, lack of self-esteem, and the overwhelmingly socially crippling desire to come off as “cute” as an adult woman.

Exhibit B: The Cosmopolitan Article. I’m going to jump around, but rest assured…each paragraph is more insane than the last.

I haven’t had sex in weeks. After considering why and how this election is threatening to ruin my previously amicable (even enthusiastic) relationship with sex, I think the problem is twofold. On one hand, the thought of being touched by my husband, a man, after spending day upon never-ending day listening to Donald Trump’s sexually assaultive language, is not a pleasant one. On the other, we are both so obsessed with the election that our combined anxiety is killing our sex drives.”

A T-Shirt Laura claims she bought for herself, her husband, AND HER DOG.

The fact that she feels the need to identify her husband as “a man” is ultimately troubling, and likely to be, considering his decrease in libido over an election, demonstrably false. Personally, I can’t imagine being sexually attracted to anyone who describes their relationship with sex as “amicable.” Let alone a fat-positive ginger.

Instead of retiring to my boudoir to engage in a garden of sensual delights with my husband (quick missionary followed by a [bubblegum] cigarette), I stay up late into the night, refreshing FiveThirtyEight in hopes that my benevolent/merciless overlord Nate Silver will bring some rest for the weary (in the form of blue states).”

The use of terms like “boudoir” and “sexual delights” are only rendered overbearingly cringe-worthy by the admission of “quick missionary” sex followed by a “bubblegum cigarette.” Presuming Laura and her “male” husband aren’t children, or in some way related, this information should send any sexual adult into immediate and violent dry-heaves.

Imagine–for a fucking second–that you just finished having boring missionary sex with your “male” husband, chewing a stick of bubble gum, then turning on the TV for a post-coital look at your “benevolent overlord” Nate fucking Silver, who…I should remind you…looks like this:



“Did you see Trump gained on Hillary in Utah?” I say to my husband who is as far away from me as humanly possible on the other side of our king-size bed (read: almost falling off). I’m lying down and also sweating, probably because I’m about to have a stroke.”

What a frightening and unattractive image, Laura. Your poor cucked husband would rather sleep on the floor than spend another moment waking up in a mattress soaked with your sweat, tears, and dead eggs.

“…Then we both pop extra Ambien and blessedly slip into darkness, clutching our phones, fully clothed and barricaded by pillows — another night of restlessness and absolutely no sexual congress.”

Laura’s “Male” Husband?

This picture is getting darker and darker. I fear that at some point, the sun will rise and Laura and her “male” husband will just be dust in the wind…as if they’d never really existed at all. And perhaps they didn’t, because with a narrative so bleak as this, can you really call it “living”?

Clutching your phones. Fully clothed and barricaded by pillows. No wonder you have no sexual congress. You call it sexual congress! Even the fucking act of making love to your “male” husband is comparable to impending political discourse.

Laura’s psychiatrist (surprise, surprise) tells her that part of what she’s experiencing is normal. Often people who are in great stress lose their sex drives. Which is true. The brain can do weird and awful things to the body if it’s under the influence of stress or depression.

Laura compares this to how contestants on Survivor lose their desire to fuck because they’re exhausted and stressed over physical and mental challenges.

This, however, seems unreasonably naive considering that Laura has no physical challenge, but may be extremely mentally challenged. Her advice to her readers is to watch political documentaries instead of having sex. Good advice, Laura, you spherical shrew…but not everyone has the desire to suck all of the joy from our lives.

“I’m not alone. Friends and family members alike (OK, just friends; I don’t talk to my family about sex) told me they also feel the stress of this election cycle building a wall down the middle of their bed. One lady friend in a long-term relationship said she wasn’t necessarily opposed to sex, but she just didn’t have the time between refreshing David Fahrenthold’s Twitter and worrying about all the ways in which we’re all gonna be screwed if Trump wins. Spoiler: It’s not the orgasmic way.”

First off, yes you are alone. Desperately alone. Your unfuckable “male” husband has now rendered your freckled mug unfuckable, and your life, as you would have expected it to be as an optimistic little Disney princess adolescent, is over.

Second, your “lady friend” (if she exists, and isn’t just a surrogate character in this narrative for yourself) shouldn’t be refreshing feeds by a man (David Fahrenthold) who looks like this:


Did either of you actually consider that maybe the rapid decrease in your sex drive has less to do with this man:


And more to do with the fact that you’re all mentally ill babies who get all of their affirmations and masculine input from men who look like they crawled out from a jizz-filled sewer, behind a series of thick weeds, underneath their mothers’ basements. You can’t survive this way. I’m not saying every man needs to be the height of masculinity, but these men you look up to–and try to bring yourselves to fuck–look like they carry an extra pair of shoes around in a plastic grocery bag just in case they step in a puddle. Real go-getters.

“Every time I try to get in the mood, I just picture Donald Trump’s face over my boyfriend’s and I want to Hulk smash,” said one friend who was happily married before this election cycle began. A currently single pal shared that she felt her vagina glue itself closed when she read Trump’s comments about Mexicans being rapists; she hasn’t had the time or inclination to DIY it back open yet.”

Fucking gross. All of these “friends” that Laura has are just as unstable as she is; which does very little to upset the echo-chamber.

“It can be fun to joke about this terrifying election but mainly because if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. Maybe forever.”

2.gifCan you imagine someone who can’t make a joke about a meaningless political process…who claims they may start crying…perhaps forever? No man reads Cosmopolitan, but if they actually did (as I did, just for you), do you really think they’d have any sympathy for this kind of behavior? If your “male” husband has any decency or self-respect, he’s currently elbow deep in something relatively less likely to be shaped and colored like a Halloween-themed bag of leaves. But I doubt that very much…since he consciously (we hope) married you, Laura.

“I love my husband very much and he is truly one of the most decent humans I’ve ever met, but sometimes I look at him during this election, and I want to say, “I love you, but please stay away from me right now.”


Laura goes on to say that she approached a “male friend” at a party and bothered him about Donald Trump until he had nightmares…then had the nerve to say:

“See, it was only a matter of time before Trump got him too, and right where it hurts: in his blue-state balls. (Sorry. It’s too many bad puns. I know this. I wouldn’t be making these if I was having sex. Puns will never Make America Fuck Again.)”

Trump didn’t get to him, Laura! YOU DID. You rendered a (gay) man incapable of fucking. I hope you’re proud of yourself. Christians have been trying to do this for centuries. But one look at that freckle-puss and it was “so-long, downtown!”

“No, the only way out is through: through making informed decisions and making sure you exercise your goddamned right to vote. But don’t stop there: Talk to your friends and family, volunteer at a phone bank, knock on doors, post on social media. (Yes, be that person who posts about politics on social media. Everyone loves us!) Because if you’re not fucking — and you’re not, stop lying, girl — you can at least use this time to make a difference. On Nov. 9, I’ll know I did my part, and then I’m gonna take a vacation and get so laid.”

This is one of the grossest paragraphs I’ve ever read; and I’ve read large portions of both the Bible and the Koran. This entire endeavor ends with a plea for strangers to post political things online and to vote. Note, she didn’t say “vote if you’re progressive” she said “vote.” She then assumes that, because she’s not fucking, no one is fucking. False.

People who aren’t dangerous lunatics are fucking. Hard and passionately. Because on November 9th, we hope that all of our giddy excitement over the future of our country will culminate in people as emotionally fragile and regressive as Laura never being able to fuck again.

Jesus…just the fucking possibility of that makes my dick harder than Laura’s “male” husband’s when he thinks about anyone but Laura.


Stop Mandatory Sentencing

It can not be over-stated that the entire population cares very deeply about rape and sexual assault. We are constantly searching for way to drive the numbers down, and whether it is by sheer luck or the result of such measures, rape and sexual assault are at one of the lowest points in history.

That is not to say that we can eviscerate this scourge. Crime is already illegal, and no one ever commits a crime thinking they’re going to be caught and punished. Most people commit crimes without thinking at all. When we establish mandatory sentences for any crime, we remove the ability of a Judge, Lawyers and Jury to do their jobs–which is to assess a situation and make a ruling based on criminal history, past convictions, severity of crime, likelihood for the accused to be a repeat offender, status as the individual threat, and proclivity of the accused toward rehabilitation. Essentially, whether or not prison is the right answer.

California Assembly Bill 2888 asserts that there should be no legal distinction in how various forms of sexual misconduct are punished. It is an over-simplified mess of legislation that essentially serves no legitimate purpose other than for lawmakers to say “we did something” to quell any negative emotions constituents may harbor. We can not make new laws as an emotional response to things we don’t comprehend. That’s how innocent people get hurt, and guilty people get a fucked up form of justice. None of this benefits victims. None of it stops crime.

pols_reeferThe Bill, which is sitting, waiting for approval from the Governor of California after passing both House Assembly and Senate (no surprise there), states nothing about terms or length of sentencing; only that the Judge MUST sentence “jail time” for anyone convicted of sexual misconduct. This doesn’t change the Brock Turner verdict one bit. Jail time could be 48-hours, for all they care. It’s just an arbitrary and flippant faux-reformation. The Bill even states that probation is not allowed unless the judge deems it appropriate (meaningless)…but then the Judge must outline exactly who he/she felt that probation was preferred over jail time. Most-to-all individuals with sexual violence convictions would get both, to varying degrees. But the real punishment is having to live your life with a permanent “sex offender” name-tag, utterly fucking a guilty person out of most opportunities in life. But who cares, right? Unless we’re talking about rehabilitation, and getting convicted felons back on their feet and back into society, then we pretend to care again.

The point is, no amount of head-patting and saying “there there” is going to ease the pain that victims have. There is only one way to stop rapists from getting away with their crimes, and that’s to report sexual assault and stop trying to conflate what you feel with the crime. Stop telling victims that police are going to “laugh at them” or that we live in a rape culture that consistently blames the victim. That doesn’t help, and it’s never ever been true.

Stop speaking for victims and spreading rumors that could diminish the victim’s legal recourse. That doesn’t help.

And stop corroding the experiences of actual victims of sexual violence by claiming that every time someone is “mean” to you, it’s assault. That doesn’t help.

Cat calling and otherwise being a creep does not translate as sexual violence or abuse.

Nobody who goes through their life wanting to play the victim knows what it’s like to actuallbe a victim.


Everyone needs to do their homework and stop believing nonsense about these high-profile cases before it’s too late. Your overenthusiastic mob mentality destroys our legal system. Nearly ever myopic and poorly constructed criticism you have about the American legal system can be boiled down to Mandatory Minimum Sentencing.

But, fuck, you don’t trust the system anyway…so why would you care?

You’ll care when you’re the one in trouble, when you’re the one accused of something, whether you’re guilty or innocent. It’s easy to make new laws, take away rights, simplify systems that you don’t understand, so they rely on a coin flip and not human intervention. It’s not so easy to reverse those laws, return rights to the people, overturn a guilty verdict, or give someone back their humanity.

There’s one lesson that everyone needs to learn; male or female, no matter where you live, no matter what lifestyle you have, no matter if you’re going out on the town with the girls, or going out partying with the boys…take personal responsibility. Your decisions matter. And if people in the social media ether had their way, your decisions would have more impact than you could have ever possibly intended.