(Above: Left - Kate, my girlfriend, Middle - Calliope, our furbaby, Right - Kate, me, blogger)
I'm a gay housewife in chronic pain who loves Jesus, ladies, and music. I do me rather unapologetically. Deal, gurl.
The video I posted is done by a master troll. And I mean _master_.
Check out his page: http://www.saveportlandfromhell.com/
It’s an awesome piece of truly dedicated trolling. Probably the best I’ve ever seen.
Bravo, good sir.
My very progressive parents spanked me as a child, and I honestly think that I am a better person because of it.
Discipline was and is necessary to raise a child. You can successfully bring up a well-adjusted child without spanking them, but I think that spanking helps drive home the “you cannot do this" point in a way that timeouts and losses of privileges cannot.
One spank, open-handed on my butt, and it was over. I think it was just one, at least. Regardless, I definitely deserved it.
What Adrian Peterson did to his son was not discipline, it was torture. I learned from Keith Olbermann’s show tonight that Adrian repeatedly hit the boy with a switch, which produced cuts on the boy’s legs, ankles, thighs, buttocks, and scrotum. Defensive wounds on the child’s hands prove that he tried to stop his professional football player father “from hitting him with a small tree branch.”
The four-year-old also said that Adrian “stuffed leaves in his mouth” while hitting him, and that he was afraid if he told what happened that Adrian would punch him in the face.
Keep in mind that Adrian’s two-year-old son died seven months ago because of child abuse at the hands of the child’s mother’s boyfriend, which happened because the man was “disciplining” the toddler.
What happened in these cases is not discipline though; it is torture. Discipline instructs a child on how to be a better human being, while torture breaks down a child, wounding their body for weeks and their soul for a life time. Torture brings grown men to tears when they see a stranger of a certain height/weight/race at the grocery store because it conjures up images of their abusers, or why certain people refuse to wear belts.
This kind of torture is physical and psychological and, thank God, illegal in America. It does not matter if “that was the way you were brought up” or if it’s “regional” or “cultural;” it is wrong. We have decided, as a culture, I grant sometimes at a painfully slow pace, that some things that were once considered the norm to not be acceptable anymore. Cultures change and evolve, and in this instance I believe it is for the better.
Don’t torture your children. Period.
[I know the legal definition for what happened is abuse, but I think the word torture is a better one for this situation.]
August 29 was the five year anniversary of being disowned by Pastor Kay Hooper, and you know what I did?
I enjoyed my excellent life with my awesome girlfriend and her new friends from UNC at a lovely little burger shack in Chapel Hill. I had an amazing burger, some Pepsi, and an ice cream sandwich with vanilla ice cream and amaretto/almond cookies. All of the above was divine.
Because really, the best way to spend a Crapiversary is to be profoundly happy. True joy is the ultimate push back to people who have been unspeakably, repeatedly, completely awful to you. Their horrendous behavior is because they are totally miserable and don’t know how to deal with things in a way that isn’t destructive. As a consequence they are supremely unhappy and occasionally (or not-so-occasionally) inflict their dysfunction onto others who were naive enough to trust them.
Joy doesn’t come fast, either. The damage caused does not repair in a day or a week or a year. It takes a lot of crying and processing to get to joy again. But because you’re not awful and dysfunctional and miserable with your existence, you do arrive there. And it is so lovely.
Hey there toomblurr. It’s that time again! The time when my hip hurts and I can’t sleep so I write a Tumblr post at 3 a.m.because eh why not.
Here’s what I’ve been making lately: