Badgerilla destroys Heartland town
Badgerilla’s next move? Soaking up all the attention at her cub’s book-signing at the Mall of America: Sarah’s going to be signing her books, too! Also.
And just in case Bristol was feeling that awakening of a smidgen of that vaunted article of Tea Party faith, self-reliance, Grisly Mama will only autograph her books (freshly purchased, naturally; no bringing your own tear stained copies!) for people who have purchased Bristol’s first.
A friend used to call it Hatersville, for obvious reasons. Back in the day, their fundraisers consisted of “Lissy” throwing a tantrum and doing the silent treatment until her poor readers threw money at her so she could buy new shoes. (and some of them gave their last cent, too, which was heartbreaking to watch) It happened twice before I stopped bothering to look anymore. Ugh.
I’m so glad I have Mother-May-I McEwan to tell me how feminism works, because otherwise silly ole poor benighted me could never figure it out for myself. And yeah, Twinky, I remember a few of those “I do and do and DO for you kids, and this is the thanks I get?” Lissy fits.
And now I’m remembering how Mr. and Mrs. Shakesville were POSITIVE beyond a shadow of a doubt that Obama’s “periodically” comment was SEXISMSEXISMSEXISMOMGWTFBBQ!?!?!?—but Hillary’s “hard-working Americans, white Americans” comment MIGHT have been an innocent slip, just possibly, but she should apologize anyway. Just because somebody might have thought she was being racist because it sounded that way.
God, it is far too early in this election cycle for me to be re-living the fecklessness and idiocy of the LAST one.
I believe this is the sort of “fundraiser” Twinky was talking about(pasted so as not to give them traffic,I bolded the “juicy” bits:
This community can’t expect me to run a safe space and get paid for my work in this space from somewhere else. That’s just the reality.
I’m tired of begging. I’m sure you’re tired of me begging, too. But six months on from my walking away because I was exhausted and broke and ever being asked to provide more more more, I’m back in exactly the same place. Maybe everyone assumes that everyone else is filling the pot, but that isn’t happening. I’ve held up my end of the bargain, but the same is not being done in return. I think you can imagine how much admitting that pains me.
The deal is: If you want to see Shakesville stay in business and run as a safe space, you’ve got to kick in. And if you want me to feel as though what I do here every day has value to the community, you’ve got to kick in. And if you don’t want this space to be yet another place where a woman’s service work is devalued just because it can be, then you’ve got to kick in.
Thank you to the people who have donated this month, or any other.
First, they came for the feminist bloggers, but I wasn’t a feminist blogger, so I remained silent. Then they came for the Firebaggers—and I fucking jumped in and helped them!
Seriously, I will never ever understand the poor lil me blegging thing. (Susie Mad-Hack had a nice fit toward her ungrateful readers that got her called out here a few years ago IIRC). If it doesn’t pay the bills AND you don’t enjoy it as a creative outlet or a way to build community or just for sheer grits and shins—FUCKING STOP DOING IT. You are not legally required to blog. There are actually lots and lots of other things you can do in the name of activism that are equally, if not more, valuable.
And honestly, if Strange and Betty and Polly don’t deserve top dollar for their fabulous efforts, then why would McEwan’s same-old, same-old bleatings be worth a tinker’s fart?
It would be a tad easier to yell “sexist!” when Palin/Bachmann is portrayed as a catfight if Team Palin weren’t actively trying to turn it into precisely that.
The Pella reports have been fab in true rumproast fashion, but this thread is so delicious I’m forced to delurk long enough to declare: Good golly how I love this blog.
The whole “safe space” thing makes me larf, too.
It’s the fucking INTERNET, kids. If your readers are such delicate broken blossoms that they can’t read about the news of the day without you having to take hours to post trigger warnings all over the fucking place and clean up any comments that might—MIGHT—offend somebody’s tender sensibilities somewhere, then I’m not sure you or your audience is up to the hard work of social change in the first fucking place.
Because people call you names, throw flyers back at you, write nasty letters to the editor about you, slam doors in your face and phones in your ear, etc. And that’s just what I experienced as a 13-year-old volunteering for ERA Illinois and many years later in the Obama campaign. (I didn’t go door-to-door for ERA or phone bank—but I did stand in the sun at the county fair handing out flyers and petitions and have Young Republicans and STOP ERA folks mock me, and the local biddies in Schlafly’s outfit took me on for letters I wrote to the town paper voicing my support. Oh dear, now I’ve triggered myself and must lay down in a darkened room.)
Sorry, commenting is closed for this post.
Next entry: The Opera House Putsch
Previous entry: Not A Dry Seat In The House at Palin's Pella Premiere