Thursday, July 9, 2015

Shame on You

By now I'm sure you've seen the woman's selfie in an Old Navy tank top that recently went viral. The lady overheard a teen comment to her mother about a plus-size tank top being large enough for two people to fit inside at the same time. The mom agreed and laughed. The offended woman took this as "fat shaming" and left the store crying.

A clothing company for babies was under fire for selling a onesie with "I Hate My Thighs" printed on the front. Some people were outraged because they say the garment is basically baby fat-shaming. Fat babies are the greatest! How big of a stick must you have up your ass to even come up with the idea that talking about a baby's fat is shameful???

People need to lighten up -- and I don't mean that they need to reduce their caloric intake and exercise more frequently. I mean we need to stop being offended by every-fucking-little-thing someone  says that we don't agree with or that hurts our feelings.

Are there insensitive assholes in the world? YES! Are there people with opinions that counter mine? YES! But classifying every instance as an act of shaming is absolutely ridiculous.

I looked up different kinds of shaming and here are just a few of kinds I discovered: pet shaming, body shaming (includes fat and thin), slut shaming, mom shaming, passenger shaming, and the one I was most surprised by -- sunscreen shaming.

What is sunscreen shaming you ask? That is when someone who actively tans and perhaps doesn't use sunscreen makes a comment like, "You're pale" to someone who chooses to use sunscreen to prevent tanning.

Are.You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?!?!

Going back to the Old Navy case, the girl remarked that the top was large enough for two people to fit into it at the same time. Based on the size of the top and the size of some people, I'd venture to say that was a factual statement. Stupid and pointless, but likely factual.

Who. Gives. A. Shit?!?

An observation or heaven forbid a criticism is NOT shaming. Take it or fucking leave it for goodness sake rather than making it a huge deal. Classifying every criticism as shaming devalues true cases of bullying. By constantly alleging shaming, you are giving people who offend you far more power than they deserve.

Fact:  I'm short and have little boobs. If some asshole comments on either of these facts, it would never enter my mind to allege vertically challenged shaming or tiny titty shaming. Would such comments hurt my feelings? Maybe, but I would get over it because I've been offended or had my feelings hurt before and have learned that it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Hell, if I've had a drink or two, I'm likely to counter, "Like I give a shit you giant, little dicked asshat!" Boom. Over. Resume normally scheduled programming for fuck's sake.

However, if over-shaming continues to be the norm, I'm primed to initiate two types of shaming that will enhance the world in which we live:

1. Chewing with your mouth open and/or smacking shaming -- There is no excuse for this and all of mankind benefits if this shaming causes some of these animals to close their damn mouths and cut it with the visual reminiscent of a dumpster after last call.

2. Pen click shaming -- An annoying-as-fuck habit that serves absolutely no purpose in the world other than cause rational people to totally lose their shit upon prolonged exposure.

You. Are. Welcome.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Art or Not?

Artist Tracey Emin recently turned the scene of personal heartbreak and despair into a windfall.  Her art installation titled, the Unmade Bed just sold for over $4 million.  For that price, the buyer not only gets the rumpled, stained sheets, but an assortment of empty liquor bottles, cigarettes, panties AND a condom.

Un. Fucking. Believable.

I'm amazed by this for a couple of reasons.  First, that someone would have the cajones to put her panty-laden, unmade bed in a gallery and call it art.  Second, that someone would pay that kind of money for an unmade bed with shit strewn on and around it.

Damn.  I'm sitting on a goldmine.  I'm surrounded by "art installments" just waiting to be discovered. When the dogs got into the trash, like a fool, I cleaned it up.  Next time, I'm getting an agent and putting that feast for the senses on the market.  Ca-ching!  Ca-ching!

Y'all get ready because I already have an artistic vision for my first show....  Keep in mind, these are only photographs.  The actual pieces will be life-sized and easily worth millions to people who have far more money than sense.  Hell, just because I want to share my art with the world, I'll go ahead and say right now that I'll sell the entire collection for a cool $1 million.

Total.  Bargain.

This first piece depicts the triumph of procrastination over easy care and clearly shows that labels do not define me.  Bonus!  The jeans can actually be worn when not on display.


Society places rules and expectations on us.  Some of which I cannot abide.  For example, don't tell me a crisper drawer is for vegetables.  Who needs an entire drawer for lettuce?  No, sir.  Not in this house. Ours is reserved for wheat and barley.

"The Vault"

This piece is a personal one for me.  It depicts my commitment to diet beverages and recycling.  The lone regular drink hidden among the others represents temptation.  Deep.  

"Aspartame Orgy"

It's a cold, hard, fact:  Crime is everywhere.  Never is it more threatening to our existence than when it creeps into even the darkest corners of our home, brought by the ones we love.

"Money Laundering"

My last installment will be an experience for the senses.  You will you see it.  Hear it.  Smell it.    It may take time to rightfully gain access to the Commodores' hit, "Brick House" as it is the essential soundtrack to this piece, but I shall persevere until my vision is realized.

"Shit House"

Whew....  I'm drained.  Journeying deep into my soul to create these one-of-a-kind masterpieces is totally exhausting.  No doubt, it will take time to replenish what I have lost through the creative process.

Time to hit The Vault....