A Deadly Sin (100 Posts Motherfucker!)

I was eight or nine when NYC had one of the coldest winters on record, and every year as far back as I can remember, I come down with a cold that leads to bronchitis. This spell was particularly harsh that it superseded the two-week limit.

Mom picked my homework up daily so I could keep up, and Dad (that worthless asshole) would stare me down as I sat at the dining room table doing my homework diligently as I sniffled and barked like a fucking dog. One night as my coughing just wouldn’t quit, I heard the old people haranguing in the living room:

“Just give her the fucking thing!”

“But she’s a kid! This isn’t like what you used to get at the drug store!”

I honestly could give a shit as I sat on the floor all dehydrated and miserable trying to read my Dr. Seuss clutching my Care Bear Love-A-Lot when Mom, frazzled to fuck, burst into my room with a medicine bottle and a teaspoon.

“Now I’m going to give you this, but if you feel sick tell me right away.”

She dosed me with something that tasted like cherry schnapps mixed with diesel. Dimetapp tasted like a Popsicle, and the amoxicillin I was taking had to have been made by the Dubble Bubble people. But this shit was wretched…

And then I saw God.

Well as much as dancing Big Birds and rainbows with Wonder Woman spinning cotton candy could be considered God to a third grade atheist. I regained consciousness two hours later, and after I emerged from my room walking on sunshine to use the bathroom, Dad proclaimed:

“See? Nothing out of her after all this time. And she’s still alive!”

Twenty-three years on and Vic has been quite an influence. Campus rent-a-cops can’t catch everybody, and once outside the grounds Russians like to do business. CWE is a precious tool, but once I decided to do a threesome with blue label vodka, my nodding became scary. Since then I stick to the seasonal ‘script (although when someone goes to the dentist or gets a cough the bottles do empty quite fast- they let it go, I do everything around here).

I don’t hate Janis, Jimi, Kurt, Dee Dee, River, Johnny T., or Phil for making love to a needle. I don’t hate them for dying. I love them even more for their imperfections.

He who is without sin, may cast the first stone.

Still in love with you (all 11 ounces)

Still in love with you (all 11 ounces)

Michael Jackson, Resurrected

Well my fellow reptiles, the Wacko Jacko Clan has done it again! And by that I mean generating more press (and thusly more dollars) by waving Michael’s shriveled corpse in front of a camera.

Four years ago Michael Jackson died of a drug cocktail consisting of propofol (a pre-anasthetic) and bennies (a.k.a. antidepressants- lorazepam). Now I avoid daytime TV like the fucking plague but on The Talk, panelists Sharon Osbourne and Sara Gilbert made a pair of realistic comments on the Jackson Clan taking li’l MJ’s GP Dr. Conrad Murray (serving a 4 year prison sentence) to court  for $40 billion dollars. Now both women come from celebrity backgrounds- Sara acting, Sharon metal- where drugs are simply part of the entertainment culture, so they have direct experience with drug use and/or those who use. A combination of inspiration, arrogance, privilege, boredom, and stress has invited the uses of pharmaceuticals as quick fixes. Gilbert was bombarded with Twats from rabid MJ fanfucks screaming their umbrage over their black-turned-white-quasi-Peter Pan idol, and today she backpedaled.

Way to go Darlene.

Why don’t we step into the Wayback Machine and zip back to 27 January 1984. Wacko Jacko was filming a Pepsi commercial in front of fans when a pyrotechnical effect misfired causing Mikey’s scalp and face to catch fire. Suffering 2nd degree burns he was scarred and had permanent nerve damage, not to mention the trauma of the injury. It was either at this time or his two previous nose jobs that Mike began his addiction to painkillers that opened the doors to other prescription drug abuse. Remember coke, weed, meth, and smack, the accepted drugs that stars abuse that turn up in red-topped newspapers aren’t the only ones. Judy Garland and Elvis were total pill freaks, enabled by family, friends, doctors, agents, and producers alike. You think Mikey was any different?

It’s a fact that the last two Jacksons that were solvent were Janet and Michael until the 1993 sex abuse allegations. Michael was more than likely financially supporting his siblings’ lifestyles. But the millions he raked in sales after his death was taken by record companies and creditors with little to spare even for his mother and kids who were handsomely provided for in his will leaving the bulk of his fortune to his charities. This, of course, didn’t sit well with those who expected a big payout, so they held up little brother’s burial for 10 days forcing for his estate to pay for not only MJ’s tomb in Hollywood Forever Cemetery’s private mausoleum, but for ALL THOSE JEHOVAH WITNESS ASSHOLES’ WALL PLOTS! And adding insult to injury, they forced the LAPD to provide a motorcade for the the Staples Center memorial that displayed an empty gold plated casket, but it was a time when the police department was suffering motherfucking cutbacks!

So what can we take from all this? A failed reality show, a ridiculous musical (that only ran in London’s West End), and a Dumb and Dumber kidnapping of Katherine and the kids couldn’t keep these big-headed assfucks afloat, now they have to resort to the talk show circuit and Court TV to kick a dying horse for sympathy and money. People, Dr. Conrad Murray is just one of thousands of Hollywood’s Dr. Feel Goods. If he didn’t procure for Mikey, someone else would have (and we all know that despite an agency “contracting” him on paper under shitpiles of legalese it was really Michael). And MJ had an entourage that wanted to stay in his good graces to get a piece of the action, Murray liked the money addicted starts gave him, and if anybody said “no” they were ignored, threatened, or removed.

Welcome to La-La land people. Careful what you wish for, you just might get it.

Fifty Shades of Twifuck Fanfic Bullshit!

Now you understand why I only visit Barnes & Noble’s for the restroom.

Now even Wikipedia reported that Mrs. Erica Leonard uploaded Fifty Shades of Grey as Master of the Universe (I really fucking hate this bitch because she has destroyed the good names of He-Man and She-Ra!) Twifuck fanfic under the pseudonym of “Snowqueen’s Icedragon.” I found the .pdf and have skimmed over it, and let me tell you it is a 604-page assload of shit! At least the British wildebeest admitted she spewed it under the duress of a midlife crisis. As a fan of Anais Nin, Alina Reyes, and Anne Rice (before her Catlick reconversion) I can say this is unequivocally poorly written and poorly researched in the BDSM department. Perhaps she should’ve opened up communications with Sapio Slut and asked her a few questions concerning her relationship with her dom lover. OR she could’ve watched Cool Devices. Not that this had a chance in the seven circles of hell with proper research and editing.

How low can the publishing industry stoop? I did some research and looking at a Blogger link for the MOTU fic-shit, in 2010 all these screaming Twifuck teen and cougar idiots gave the fic 40,000 gay disco ball sparkling reviews. I guess Mrs. Leonard took her experience as a British TV exec decided to do what the entertainment industry does best: rehash, repackage, and re-release. In 3-D. Incidentally Erica is Chilean/Scottish, married to somebody who’s as mental as she is, attended the University of Kent and majored in HISTORY before getting her first real job as a studio manager’s assistant at the National Film and Television School in London. Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s done a fuckload of writing…

Incidentally, her publisher is The Writer’s Coffee Shop (which is formatted a bit like Ellora’s Cave), be sure to read the submission guidelines, and remember, anybody can be a writer. It doesn’t matter if you’re not any good… And if you need an agent ring up Valerie Hoskins since she did such a good job with Erica!

Valerie Hoskins Associates
20 Charlotte Street
London
W1T 2NA

email: info@vhassociates.co.uk

phone: 020 7637 4490

REGISTERED ADDRESS
Valerie Hoskins Associates Limited
8 The Glasshouse
49A Goldhawk Road
London
W12 8QP

REGISTERED NUMBER 2435715

P.S. They might be optioning this for a screenplay. Your best bet into what this pile of fuck might look like, DL The Secretary.

P.P.S. If you have any questions regarding the .pdf email me.

“Music is disposable now. It doesn’t have the emotional impact anymore. That’s sad.” – Bob Welch (1945-2012), Fleetwood Mac guitarist.

Public child bans: put up or shut the fuck up breeders because this is YOUR fault!

It stared with an article on bratfree about McDain’s, a restaurant and golf course that caters to the adult professional crowd who finally put their foot down on kids who ruined other patrons dinners that wouldn’t quit misbehaving. Now no child under six is allowed a seat. I applaud owner Mike Vuick (and sent him a supportive email), how many times have I had the urge to slap the living shit out of brats when they won’t shut their mouths, quit braying, won’t eat their meal, or mouth off to the adults in a restaurant? Countless. And so have you. But you spineless morons and jealous hypersensitive breeders will post on your Fuckboook pages, Twat, and MOO on your message boards how we must be muscled (with pignancy lard) into submission because we are the evil childfree. Beautiful, rich jet setters that live a superficial, uber-materialistic lifestyle Smeyer couldn’t conjure up while blessing the dead.

Well bitches prepare to eat crow, because the kid-free zoning has caught on like the whooping cough you refuse to get your kid vaxed for!

A Texas movie theater chain has designated “baby days” for kids under six, Whole Foods in Missouri is offering childfree shopping hours, and a Florida condo is trying to ban kids from playing outside because it has no real courtyard or play area for them- just an active parking lot where cars can get wrecked and kids could get run over.

Floridian entitle cow: “I don’t have to. My child can do what she wants.” (Translation: “I’m fat, exhausted, and need to watch my stories! Let the brats do what they want, as long as it’s away from my flatscreen!”)

Pennsylvania cunt Stephanie Kelley: “All children do not have meltdowns, and I don’t feel I should have to suffer the repercussions.” (Translation: “My husband works all damn day and doesn’t care about me or the kids! I deserve a night out after being cooped up all day with these little idiots. Besides, we could just afford McDain’s and even if we could get a sitter I want the good looking businessmen to tell me what a beautiful mother I am!”)

Why does everything in this country have to be family friendly?! There’s a plague of Fuck E. Sneezes, Crapplebees, and McShit playlands that could take up every inch of land in the state of California! Breeders don’t have that much by way of disposable income! They’re only putting it on plastic and forgetting about it until the bill comes (ie. debt)! This should be covered in all business schools and economics classes as a new model for American (small) businesses.

P.S. It wouldn’t hurt if you dropped an email to the places mentioned above for a show of solidarity, I know I did!

A childfree man vs. breeder-brain man: an illogic omelet in the making.

Fundie, mentally ill, and anti-vax wannabe hippie parents love homeschooling!

Fundie, mentally ill, and anti-vax wannabe hippie parents love homeschooling! Gee, I wonder why…

On bratfree we were making fun of the crazed homeschooling breeders, and swapping tales of our own personal experiences with homeschooling. Or should I say, unschooling. If you’re a Beverly Hills Cop I & II fan like me, then you know who Judge Freaking Reinhold is. A few years back he had a TV sitcom (that lasted all of 8 eps) called The O’Keefes. The premise was a hyperactive pretentious family homeschooling their supposed intellectually superior kids now transitioning into public school. Can you see how these characters might be the posterchildren for unschooling? I know I can.

Now as I bitched in my last post American public, religulous, and charter schools are SO FAR OFF THE FUCKING MARK, only a cultural revolution could change them. But, hey, this is America! And when do things really change? My father suffered from Paranoid Personality Disorder and codependency (like my grandmother), and several of the big red flags of these disorders are inflated ego and capability, projecting blame on others and even things, and quick loss of interest. In ’93 I was pulled out of my second Catlick school because I was the target of bullying. I had been the target of bullying up until I was in high school (I said this before). My father couldn’t and wouldn’t accept the reasons for this was my social maladjustment because of isolation, being biracial, and being overweight (PCOS played a big role in my weight problems I later found out). I had been out of school (the first time around) for 44 days. At the time Rudy Giuliani had been crowned king of NYC and he was overhauling the BOE big time. The big problem was truancy, the other big problem was the shit ass educational programs, but neither really got solved. Dad nicely informed the BOE that he would be homeschooling me for the remainder of my educational career, to which the secretary on the other end of the phone replied, “Put her back in school.” And hung up.

This fell on blissfully deaf ears. Mom, Dad, and me tramped down to the WNET (Channel 13) Building at Rockefeller Center to buy me GED workbooks. Now I always believed that the GED programs were for lazy ghetto-ass high school kids who don’t feel like doing anything (which is largely true since I know so fucking many of them), but Dad never figured out that 1) I was 13 and these materials were made for older teens and adult education and 2) in order to complete the work in the books you had to follow a set program series that aired at certain times of the morning on PBS. You can’t imagine our embarrassment upon walking into the smoky glass and steel monolith of establishment liberalism with a Hispanic man speaking too loud wearing grungy three sizes too small clothing barely stretching over his beer gut. The volunteer country club and 5th Ave. Synagogue old lady members stared us down with puckered disgust, and the uncomfortable college kid who rang him up (paying for the books with rolled up coins) was forced to listen to his insane diatribe that I was being homeschooled because I was a “misunderstood genius.” I seriously considered suicide for the first time when I got home that night.

At WNET they also sold the GED VHS series, but they were grossly overpriced and I think you had to have qualifications as a GED instructor to purchase them. So needless to say Dad felt that I was smart enough to figure out the material on my own. He forced me to watch the series in the middle of the lessons (consequently I was unable to follow them at all) and then sent me to my heatless room to do my “homework”. I found out that the workbooks had the answers in the back, making the whole thing pointless, and I just abandoned the books in my closet and proceeded to make dollhouse accessories from swatches of old clothes. This went on for a week, and Dad no longer brought up my homeschooling in favor of watching video taped eps of Star Trek: TNG, Forever Knight, and prime time crime dramas over and over again. After 44 days the school sent a letter requesting my return, or ACS would come a-callin’. I went back willingly knowing what I would face, so Dad put cotton balls in my ears to block out the abuse, but when Mom questioned how I would follow the lessons, he ignored her. I finished out the ’93 school year barely passing, and my parents didn’t pay the rest of the tuition (they didn’t deserve it), but I didn’t return to school until November ’94, and my bro Archer was pulled out of school for three months in September of ’94. We were both held back a year because of Dad’s (and Mom’s) actions, Archer became destructive, I fell into the deep well of an eating disorder and became more withdrawn and paranoid as I was not allowed to go near a window when I was at home during that very long year.

We should have been removed (as ACS did come to the house that year), but chances are nothing would have been done. Why? Simple, Mom, me, and Archer are white. We live in a clean, white middle-class neighborhood. I had no idea that Dad was mentally ill because his character was always unstable and I chalked it down to racism and the abuse he suffered from his equally insane family. I always saw homeschooled kids as being abuse victims, and this post from a Midwestern fundie cow of eight hailing from a piss-poor farming community in Buttfuck, Minnesota with no real job trolling the internet when she should be “teaching” her kids (especially when among them are disabled) reaffirms my belief:

“I have a feeling that you don’t know a whole lot about homeschooling, but you do know a lot about public school. You need to understand that homeschooling can be very different from public school. There is no law in Indiana that says an 11-year-old must know how to read well, or the parents have been neglectful. I wonder if you know the family well enough to know if that girl has a learning disability. As the other answer mentioned, it is legal for parents to encourage reading in a more gentle fashion, instead of forcing it on a child who is not ready or willing.As for what the children tell you, they might forget that they did tests, since tests can be far apart in time. As for lessons, homeschooling fits into the everyday lives of the families, and the children may not realize they are doing school. They might be learning through lots of activities, interaction with parents, and through books and movies. For example, some of my kids are studying the Vikings. Yesterday, they watched Veggie Tales “Lyle, the Kindly Viking”. Tonight, we are planning to watch “The 13th Warrior”. Videos and movies like these give lots of useful info about historical subjects. If I didn’t tell them, my kids might not realize the videos are part of their schooling. Also, last summer, I took them to the Kensington Ruinstone Museum.
For homeschooling, families do not usually have the kids in desks with the mother by a blackboard “teaching” them. It can be a lot more casual, and spread out throughout the day. It fits into the families’ lives.
If you reported this family, you would have to have first-hand knowledge that the parents are not in compliance with the law. If the law only says that the parents have to notify the public school of their children being homeschooled, and has no specifics about what or how the children are to be taught, then the parents are free to do it how they see fit.
I just urge you to be educated on the subject before you go and cause turmoil for this family. Educational neglect is a very serious charge. If you falsely accuse the family, you can expect that you will never see those kids or your sister or brother again. Talk to them before making judgement. Tell them your concerns, and ask them to explain their homeschooling philosophy and plan. Keep in mind that you may not agree with what they are doing, but that doesn’t mean it is wrong. If you won’t talk to the family first, then I question your motives. Possibly you are against homeschooling in the first place, and you just want to “get” them.
I have had my disabled child in public school for 2 1/2 months, and I can tell you, we were doing much better with him at home. There are no “magic special teachers” who can make the kids normal.” 

Butthurt, an hero? Fill this out in triplicate please.

From thom_c, a kick ass EMT from bratfree. Can be used on annoying breeders, trolls, dick coworkers, your significant other, spouse, soon-to-be divorced spouse, your parents, or anyone who thinks that their superiority complex is going to lead this world out of chaos. Blessinz of teh Ceiling Cat be apwn yu, srsly.

Because your mommy and daddy always said YOUR feelings come first.

31 candles on my cake

Well I’m 31 today and I feel no different than when I turned 30. Still no job, didn’t get back to school, and the best part the old bitch is coming up to wish us a happy birthday, THEN harass us about getting a new dining table! Ain’t life grand? Three years ago the old bitch bought us a $2k dining table from the ghetto Macy’s (that happens to look JUST LIKE HERS) under the pretense that we’ll have dinner parties like this was 1987. We can’t have K. over to do the taxes because the old bitch doesn’t want to hear any noise from strangers (K. being black doesn’t make shit any better). Still K. comes over and does our taxes- TOUGH ASS OLD BITCH!

Then she’ll start on all the camera equipment my bro archer has in the corner of the living room for the umpteenth time. It’s enough that she’s codependent and the fact that she’s 80-years-old makes her near impossible. I know that as we age the processors in our brains slowly degrade, and we need things to be more black and white to feel secure. And if an elderly person is LOGICALLY challenged, that person will become more combative and obstinate. The old bitch also has made tremendous mistakes and pissed away money, and when we bring that up she won’t respond or she becomes a wildcat. And then when Mom, archer, or I talk about getting lives of our own she gets this pathetic look on her face. She knows what’s coming. We need out of here. It was our fault we didn’t teach her to become acclimated to life on her own earlier, but we weren’t normal. Conservatives will call us lazy, but if your back is against the wall and all you could do is stand stalk-still because you’re white and people laugh when you ask for a low-wage job in NYC, what else is there?

But at least I know I’m a person and not a punching bag.