I agree with this dude who said parents need to calm the fuck down.

I would like to add that people need to grow the fuck up. From this point forward, we shall use the acronym GTFU. Sometimes, that’s the simple answer. Calm the fuck down, GTFU.

Personally, I’m pretty tired of people walking around as if they’re grown up, only to commit some fatal juvenile act outta the damn blue, signaling a formerly unknown, totally unmanageable well of immaturity. It’s actually rather disturbing. You’re hanging out with somebody all chill and shit thinking “Yeah, look at us, two adults.” And then boom! It happens and you’re all “Oh, wow. I was wrong. You’re my tween.” Possibly my toddler.

I mean come ON, I’m immature. But even I have figured out a few things during my years, and my bar is low I assure you. Some things just aren’t right, and whether we want to or not, at some point, in some areas, we simply must GTFU.

So in the interest of helpfulness (not really, I actually have no interest in being helpful at all), I have compiled a list of behaviors that really signal a need to GTFU.

This list is not comprehensive.

15 SIGNS YOU NEED TO GTFU

1. Finding yourself disturbed for more than 12 seconds by something you read on The Twitter. Check this out: There’s real life and there’s social media.Twitter falls into the category of “social media.” Social media is known to be the gathering ground of all idiots of the world, because not only are they idiots, they are INVISIBLE IDIOTS, which empowers the shit outta them. So, since it surpasses standard dumb exponentially via the blessing of anonymity, social media weirdness needn’t compel serious introspection or offense, but rather one thought and one thought only: What the hell is wrong with these people? And then you get back into real life.

2. Getting unfriended on Facebook results in days of thought and emotional turmoil. If you’re pissing people off, you’re doing it right. Well, usually. Unless you’re Rush Limbaugh or a proponent of this website, which promotes the equal treatment of white people (because that’s obviously always been a problem). There’s no way anybody on that website is doing it right.

3. Involving yourself in every corner of your kids’ lives, telling yourself it’s “for their good.” Look, the rest of the world knows you need to GTFU, because really, it’s all about you. You have not realized your childhood is over. Ship fully sailed. Please stop controlling your kids to bolster the value and meaning of your own existence. We are now in grown-up mode, where we reflect on past mistakes with a mix of nostalgia and horror as opposed to attempt to FIX them through innocent children. Get with the program!

4. You are offended/disturbed/made to feel funny by women breastfeeding in public without a cover. Masturbate, watch porn, move to Denmark. DO WHAT IT TAKES TO FIX YOURSELF.

5. You are in your 30s and think it’s acceptable to smoke weed and play video games all day while your partner goes to work.

6. You are the partner of number 5 and defend him(her?) to your parents by saying things like “But we’re in love.”

7. U write all correspondence like ur texting.

8. You play Candy Crush. Dude I’m totally joking. Just got addicted to that shit last week. However, if you play Candy Crush and send repeated requests for it, you may need to GTFU, realizing that most people with brains do not play stupid candy games on their iPhones. And if they do, they deny the shit out of it. So deny your shit like the rest of us! (for real though, lately, my house is so messy I choose to sit on the couch and wait for more Candy Crush lives as a new form of denial.)

9. When you’re angry at a friend, you prefer The Passive-Aggressive Unfollow rather than an actual conversation. Look. Good old face-to-face conversations tend to be more effective than a silent click and seething disdain. While I can get behind the “unfriend” as joyfully as the next guy, if you are going to remain a fixture in my life for reasons beyond my control, can we just talk about our issues directly rather than dance around “follow” lists?

10. Wearing sweatpants with words on the rear.

No wait. Actually I’m not done with the Passive-Aggressive Unfollow thing. You see here’s what makes your move childish and infuriating: YOU KNOW THE UNFOLLOW WILL IGNITE A CONVERSATION so it isn’t that you don’t want to talk, it’s that you want to poke me and prod me until I say “Okay, FINE, what is it. Why are you mad? How can I make this better?”

Newsflash: That’s what kids do. GTFU.

11. Yelling at check-out people instead of managers. Everybody knows it’s not their fault. We’re all watching you yell at the pimply faced 18-year-old Target check-out-guy nursing a hangover and general malaise are thinking one thing: “What sort of asshat thinks it’s this kid’s fault the headphones were marked on clearance and now they’re not?” GTFU.

12. You have a beard like this guy.

I’m kidding. If you have a beard like this guy, you have reached the pinnacle of manhood. You have no further to go. Stop now while you’re ahead. YOU WILL NEVER GET MORE GROWN UP.

13. Judging people’s maturity by their facial hair. OH FUCK YOU. It’s a reliable maturity indicator.

14. Making duck face in photographs, seriously. 

15. Dismissing entire pieces of writing on account of one typo. Grown-ups have been the asshole, probably on more than one occasion, who suddenly for absolutely no apparent reason emails “there” coworkers and gets a reply from them, reads it, notices the typo in shock and horror, requesting immediately that those same coworkers hold her head in a full toilet bowl until she stops squirming.

Life is no longer worth living.

Okay if you think grammatical errors or looking like a douchebag signals the end of the world, you should probably GTFU, because actual grown-ups have realized we’re all douchebags who do the wrong thing, piss people off, and people piss us off.

And rather than pout and freak out and unfollow each other, we can just talk about it, like big people.

Or we can write about it on our blogs, sure the offenders won’t see anyway, CAUSE THEY’VE ALL UNFOLLOWED YOU.

OMG

I need to GTFU.

Leave me alone. I’m need to go play Candy Crush in my sweatpants with words on them while I unfollow people who were mean to me on Twitter.

And then I’m going to try to follow my own advice, which would be way easier if I didn’t hate advice like a fucking 16-year old.

No but really. The passive-aggressive unfollow thing is super uncool. I stand by that one with every shred of my immature heart.

Let’s get one thing straight, America: Miley Cyrus is not the problem.

I don’t care how often she “twerks” or humps teddy bears or foam hands. The problem is not that she’s a fucking moron acting like a douchebag on a stage. The problem is that YOU are surprised by it, offended by it, appalled by it and/or overcome with sympathy for her (which is the weirdest one by far, in my opinion).

Check it out, people bent outta shape that “Hannah Montana,” your “daughter’s role model” is grinding the groin of some giant stuffed bear and a dude who lyrically advocates rape (also, funny nobody’s tweaked out about him, don’t ya think?)  – the only dumbass in this scenario is you.  If you are still relying on American media – the ones who created Honey fucking Boo Boo and Jersey Shore – if you are still looking to them for role models for your children, I’m sorry but you’re a fucking idiot and should just stop talking.

If you are not teaching your kids that American media is designed for one purpose and one purpose only – to sell things to the perpetually moronic – then shut the hell up about Miley Cyrus, because you obviously don’t get it.

She wanted publicity. She got publicity. Her act was wildly successful. We’re all talking about it, aren’t we?

Boom. Her job’s done.

She is not responsible for acting in some way that encourages your daughter to use her brain or not rub her nose in the asses of stuffed bears. You, my friend, are responsible for that. If you’ve raised a kid so backward he or she can’t watch the vapidity of that performance and say to himself or herself “What the hell is wrong with people” (okay maybe in slightly different words), then you have some work to do.

Why don’t you teach your kid some critical thinking skills rather than whine about a stranger on a stage?

In case you haven’t noticed, the days when American mainstream media gave a shit about quality, message or substance have disappeared like Miley’s teddy bear onesie (if they ever existed). You want your kid to watch art? Goodness? Stuff with actual substance?

Watch some Leave it to Beaver or Lassie or fucking Ang Lee films or Sundance indie comedies or better yet take them to a freaking museum. Watch old movies. Go outside. Do something.

Listen to Frank Sinatra or the Sex Pistols. Go hear some live music. Analyze some graffiti. Do whatever the hell you want but please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop looking to American media as a guiding light for your child and then acting all surprised when somebody masturbates with a foam finger.

And all you people attacking her, a 20-year-old barely woman, for acting like a slut/whore/whatever you call her, put this in your pipe and smoke it: She can act as slutty as she damn well pleases. She’s an adult.

You know you did the same when you were 20, only she’s making a crapload of money from it whereas you only made an ass of yourself at frat parties and walked home in shame.

I jest. Sort of.

But really, why the hell is she held up to some STANDARD? Whose standards are we talking about? YOURS?

No.

She’s a pop entertainer. She has a whole TEAM behind her telling her what to do and how to do it. The pop entertainment world constitutes the standards against which she is held, and I think we can all agree those standards are LOW.

Her job is to make money. Her job is to pull attention to herself. Do you think this ruined her career? COME ON. With American amnesia and obsession with trash, this merely piques our interest. The question is now: What’s she gonna do next?

My goodness, honey, what’s that crazy girl up to NOW? Let’s turn on the television and buy People magazine to find out!

And why the hell are people feeling sorry for her? My God if I hear it one more time I’m going to break something: “One more casualty. One more poor girl destroyed by American media.”

Really?

She’s a VICTIM you moron? No. She is not a victim. She is a 20-year-old making more money than you will ever see. She is a 20-year-old privileged asshat playing a game working so beautifully the only chumps are US.

The joke’s on us people.

She gets on stage and bolts around like a tweaked out sex-addict squirrel with a broken tongue and weird hair and all of America responds on cue: The scandal! The shame! The poor Hannah Montana! Center of the national spotlight! Fuck Syria! Fuck Egypt! Miley will ruin all the people!

I just feel so sorry for this young woman who is making millions playing American idiots like a fucking fiddle.

No, no I don’t. I do not feel sorry for her at all.

Do I respect her? No. Do I give a flying rat’s ass what she does? No.

Why?

Because she has no bearing on my life or my kids’ lives and if she does, I have only myself to blame.

If my daughter feels all “let down” by Miley Cyrus, I need to have a serious sit-down with her, explaining first of all: “Honey, thou shalt not revere Disney (Nickelodeon?) pop stars or anybody created to sell shit to tweens.”

Actually, don’t revere anybody famous merely because they’re famous. Watch their art. Is it art? Is it saying something? Or is it insipid contrived drivel? Figure it out, kid.

Is it Hannah fucking Montana or is it Ed Norton? Which one of them played Tyler Durden’s alter ego? Which one of them flipped her hair a lot on television? So…which is worthy of your admiration? Which one is created to sell lunchboxes?

That’s the kind of judgment my kid needs.

I want my kids to EXPECT this Cyrus crap, not stand in awe and disbelief of it. We should be thanking her for being so damn upfront about it, for just saying it outright: I AM A SHALLOW, TASTELESS POP ENTERTAINER. If you have a brain, you will ignore me.

Stop whining, America.

Grow up. When Miley does, she’ll be laughing her ass off at all of us, if she isn’t already, for caring so much about a game she’s played, and played brilliantly, tongue hanging out and all, almost as if she was mocking us all along.

So today is the first day of “Breastfeeding Awareness Month.”

As I was thinking about that, I started thinking that there’s a time to be reasonable and thoughtful and understanding. There’s a time for conversation and negotiation and peaceful discussion.

There’s a time to talk about things like adults, listen intently to both sides, sit across from one another to calmly discuss viewpoints.

But there’s also a time to whip your fucking tits out and talk about it later.

Or never.

Ladies and gentleman, we have blown past the moment of discussion. We have no choice but to move into full frontal nudity.

Oh wait that’s right. Breastfeeding isn’t full frontal nudity. So maybe that’s not the best approach.

Whatever. You know when I nurse my babies I generally go in from the top. And if my breast flesh offends you, well then sweetheart, you are my reason for doing it again and again and again and again until eventually, maybe after the millionth time you and your kind have seen it, it won’t quite shock you anymore.

Yeah, I’m talking to you, people who think women shouldn’t breastfeed in public.

I’m talking to you, people who think women should use a cover.

But I’m tired of discussing. I’m tired of the back-and-forth convos with misogynistic douchebags with their heads shoved so far up their asses they can’t tell the difference between breastmilk and whiskey.

So anyway, during the month of August, donned Breastfeeding Awareness Month by the U.S. Health & Human services, we’re supposed to “raise awareness” of the benefits of breastfeeding to increase breastfeeding rates and help Americans becomes more accepting of breastfeeding women.

But as far as I can tell, most people agree that “breast is best.” Or maybe it’s not “best” for everybody, but most people can agree that it’s damn good. It’s where that breast can occur that’s still, somehow, up for debate, and that is where the “awareness” needs to rise. The “awareness” of why women should be able to breastfeed in public wherever, however and whenever they damn well please is “the question.”

But really, the only people who need their awareness raised need their intelligence raised.

Logic, people. Give it a shot:

You say it’s about “modesty” and “self-respect.” LIES, motherfucker, LIES.

If that were true you’d be losing your shit over the thousands of scantily clad sex objects plastered all over television and magazines. And yet, you are oddly quiet on the subject.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME SOME WOMAN WAS THROWN OUT OF A RESTAURANT FOR WEARING A SHIRT TOO LOW?

Or those shorts that allow butt cheeks to peek out the bottom?

So your argument is false. It is not that you have a problem with breasts being exposed. Rather, you have a problem with breasts being exposed for a purpose other than the sexual satisfaction of men. If you would just THINK for like two seconds you’d see that nobody loses their shit over the widespread use of women’s bodies as pieces of meat for the consumption of men. It is only when that body becomes the woman’s and her baby’s, ALONE, that she somehow becomes “offensive.”

What’s offensive is not the breasts being exposed, it’s the breasts being exposed for a purpose other than the enjoyment of the patriarchy.

It’s the BIOLOGY of it that kills you.

It’s the primal femininity of it.

It’s that the breast becomes a vehicle for child’s nutrition as opposed to patriarchal pleasure, and this violates the misogynistic social contract you’ve signed. Yeah, you know, the one women have been battling against for 150 years?

Yeah that one.

I’m talking to you, women on BabyCenter and reddit and wherever your breed of idiot hangs out, ranting about women nursing in public and how they’re “disgusting” and “immodest” and “making a production.” (Well, you are right. Some of us are in fact “making a production,” but most American women are just nursing because their kid needs to, um, nurse.)

Do you know you’re spewing the ancient Puritanical crap you’ve been fed by a twisted society? You think you’re thinking for yourself, but you’re not. You are merely regurgitating the messages you’ve been fed, like a brain-dead sheep, programmed to see yourself and all women through the eyes of a society that commodifies them and their bodies.

You say it’s a “private act” like using the bathroom. Really, that’s weird. I’m 99% sure neither urine nor shit have ever come out of my nipples.

And we are feeding babies. As in, food. Eating. Consumption. Is your lunch private? Is bottle-feeding private?

No. Well then, exactly.

You say it involves a breast and breasts are sexual, like the vagina or penis…and we sure don’t whip those fuckers out at random!

First of all, read the above regarding patriarchy and sex. Secondly, breasts are only “sexual” because our society has made them so. They should be treated like an elbow or a knee or a thigh. If YOU see them as something else, more power to you, but you can’t expect the rest of us to cater to your ignorance. Breasts are not actually attached to women solely to serve the erotic interests of men. Just like the vagina, they serve a biological purpose! It’s called “feed the offspring!”

Basically, though I’m clearly ranting (and damn does it feel good), I genuinely believe the only way to change this conversation  is to shove our boobs in the faces of these idiots so many times it becomes normal to them.

(I’m speaking metaphorically, people. If you actually shove your breast in the face of a stranger there’s a good chance you’ll get arrested. Or a marriage proposal. But probably arrested. Word to the wise, baby. You know I’m always lookin’ out for ya.)

Or, their kids at least. (Which reminds me of the weirdest argument of all: Kids shouldn’t see women nursing. Okay just take a moment and realize how insane that is. Kids shouldn’t “see” the way kids have been fed since the beginning of time.)

Maybe I sound crass, irrational. Out of control and unreasonable.

Yes, well. I am.

There is a point at which conversation dies and only action speaks. There is a time when you’ve just got to do the thing they’re telling you not to do.

I’m so tired of the women getting kicked out of pools and restaurants. I’m so tired of new mothers absolutely distraught because they can’t figure out how to avoid nursing in public. I’m sick of women feeling like they’re “exposing themselves” when their baby needs to nurse.

I’m sick of women nursing on toilets.

I’m sick of women having to THINK about NURSING at all.

I’m sick of women giving up breastfeeding entirely because it’s just too fucking hard to navigate never doing it in public.

I’m sick of society telling us we should breastfeed, but then adding the disclaimer “as long as we don’t have to see it.”

I’m sick of tits being paraded EVERY WHERE all the time in every corner of all media, but we’re shamed for nursing in public.

And my god, I’m sick of people telling us where and how and when we can nurse the babies we birthed, the ones we are working so hard to love and teach and hold, to grow into healthy strong capable human beings. We have a really hard, important job, and we don’t need MUST NOT SHOW NIPPLE EVER added to our list of responsibilities.

Get over yourself, America.

They’re boobs.

They feed babies.

You’re gonna pull through this one.

I’m not saying don’t use a cover. If you’re more comfortable doing that, then cool. What I’m saying is this: If you use a cover begrudgingly, knock that shit off.

Tell the world to go fuck itself. Learn your rights and stand up for them.

And I’m not breastfeeding any more, but if I were, you can think of me, sitting next to you, going in from the top and inviting the world to bite me. Ha. Nice pun.

And since my baby girl weaned herself at two (a year ago), I can only offer you these photos. Facebook likes to take photos like these down. So does Instagram. These photos will surely offend people: Look at that woman! Exposing herself like that! Disgusting! Immoral!

Immodest!

How dare she?

Does she have no self respect?

I THINK I SEE A MILLIMETER OF NIPPLE, people. NIPPLE.

Please, once you’ve stopped writing your angry comment, take a moment to kiss my giant, proud, once-milky breast.

Cheers!

Anyway, if you want, throw your nursing shots up on Instagram and tag it #renegadenursing. Then we can all join together as crazy nursing misfits.

Ha. Yes. So radical. Feeding our babies.

When will the insanity end?

the “toddler supposed to be nursing but not” photo!

Sometimes we nurse and mama’s kinda over it

From the top at home, from the top in public. Too bad I don’t have any of those shots.

oh lord, the chubby hand.

boob as big as her head, that’s what I’m talking about

tell me this isn’t heaven

I miss it. I do.

OH, the gorgeous, blissful milky grin!

these kids are clearly TRAUMATIZED!

Happy Breastfeeding Awareness Month, friends!

Now let’s piss some people off by feeding our babies!

Yay!

Occasionally I get a comment or email from some “well-meaning” human explaining to me that I really should stop saying such horrible things about my kids and being a mother because my kids “will read it someday” and it will “hurt their feelings” or “make them sad” to find out their mom felt that way.

And I see this attitude throughout the internet, in comments and articles critiquing those “shit-talking” mamas.

Yesterday I received a comment that encapsulates this perspective so well I have to share the whole thing: “Janelle you are trying so hard. I do wonder though, after reading some posts ( which do make me laugh!) how your children will feel reading them in the future: for example the one about your ‘ insane toddler’ or the one where you admit you hate playing with them. Lots of mum’s think this but no one actually says it. You think it’s just a vent and no harm done but you can never truly erase things from the Internet. For your children to one day know how you really felt about their childhood is so sad. Please write some more content your kids can be proud of. I say this with love so that one day you don’t have a poor relationship with your grown children. They deserve better than that and so do you. Think what you are sacrificing for others’ cheap laughs. I hope one day family life will bring you the joy it truly can be. All the best.”

Now, I have no interest in criticizing this commenter in particular. We could attack her for being condescending and oddly interested in the life of a stranger (which is all totally true, of course), but what I want to look at is the attitude behind this comment. It’s everywhere. She is mouthing a viewpoint deeply ingrained in our society.

And I want to tear this shit down because it’s nonsense, and it’s ruining futures.

To me, the most terrifying part of this comment is this: “Lots of mums think this but no one actually says it.”

Oh, lord.

This ain’t good. So what you’re saying is: Though many mothers experience the struggles you talk about, think and feel the same way, they have internalized the societal expectation that they SILENCE themselves for the good of their children.

They have learned to SHUT THE FUCK UP because they have uteri and have “made the choice” to join the sacred tribe of motherhood and therefore, they uphold the sacred values of that calling while simultaneously erasing themselves on its behalf.

Erased.

We don’t let our kids know “how we really felt about their childhood” because we do not matter.

But check this out, my friend: How is dishonesty and lying and the perpetuation of mysogynistic expectations GOOD for my kids?

How am I doing my daughters and sons any favor whatsoever by pretending reality is something other than it is? Hey kids, join me in this falsely constructed world, because society says it’s the way we’re supposed to act. Even though it’s not true, and WE ALL KNOW IT’S NOT TRUE, we do it anyway…just because!

Haven’t you blissed-out mamas ever heard of Sylvia Plath? Haven’t you people thought about WHY it is that so many women suffer from post-partum depression, kill their kids, lose their minds, SNAP one day over a batch of gluten-free cupcakes?

And all the family is dead.

Do you ever think your blissed-out bullshit attitude contributes to women hiding themselves in shame as they pretend and pretend and pretend it’s all good and right and fun and rewarding…until they can’t pretend anymore….and Boom. Done.

They’re dying inside. But they can’t say a word.

Because they’re mothers.

And motherhood is sacred, you know. And they might hurt their kids someday. And they love those kids so desperately they wouldn’t take that chance. So they hold on, in silence, with bowed heads and contrite hearts but a fire in their gut that won’t stop burning, a red, raging, insane mass — because maybe they’ve been lied to, or maybe they’re the only defective mother in the world – the one who isn’t infinitely fulfilled and hates playing Monopoly with her kids and thinks PTA meetings are pits of despair and can’t seem to get the house clean and organized when everybody else can..right? She walks around the schoolyard with a smile and a gagged mouth and freshly washed capris, but she pinched her baby that morning. The truth sits like bacteria eating her soul, a little more each day.

But she can’t say a word, because it might hurt her kids.

She tells herself she’s sacrificing for her children. She holds on with all her might to society’s promise that this is what’s best for them and they’ll thank her someday and they’ll be good people in a good world she’s made.

But one day they’re gone, moved on with their lives and yeah, they love her but now she’s 45 or 50 years old and her truth has never been spoken and her life’s half over and all those kids don’t even know.  They’re in a new place but she’s just there, STILL. Wondering why, and how it is she was erased just as she was starting to live.

She probably wonders if she could have told the truth after all, and been a little freer, lived a little stronger, maybe helped her daughter who seems to be struggling with the same shit now, but she can’t say anything because it’s too late now. It’s just too late now.

So they both go on, alone, thinking things but not saying them…

You know what? This is HER LIFE TOO and she is a PERSON not a SHELL. She is a PERSON who acts as MOTHER. She is a mother though not ONLY MOTHER.

You’ve tried to make her “only mother.” You’ve tried to eliminate her.

And you’d sooner see her die than speak her truth.

Well let me tell you something, you fucking rainbow ribbon mamas walking around with butterflies of love flying out your asses: You’re killing people.

Not only that, you’re delusional. You’d rather live in a fucking fantasy world than face the truth, which officially makes you a damn nutcase.

Put this in your pipe and smoke it: I’m doing my kids a FAVOR by telling them the truth. That way, when my girl has her first baby and feels that death of self, maybe she won’t suffer quite like I did. Maybe she’ll know she can call her mom and talk to her about the real, the grit, the nasty, raw ugly truth.

And maybe I can help her with the truth of my own life.

Maybe my son will give me a call in 15 years and say “Mom, I think my wife is going through what you did. She won’t get out of bed and it’s scaring me. She says she doesn’t want the baby. Mom, what should I do? How did you get through this? I want to help her.”

And he’ll have the power and courage and knowledge to face the nasty, raw, ugly, life-saving gorgeous truth. That’s what I want to give.

Why?

BECAUSE IT’S REAL, moron. And therefore it is right. It may be harder, but it’s right. And it’s the only way to become free. Why waste our time devoted to a fantasy? Why waste our lives perpetuating lies, even though we have daily evidence of reality, of the truth? Why do we justify a constant disconnect between what we’re experiencing and what we portray to the world?

Is there a faster track to insanity?

Maybe you don’t find motherhood difficult. Maybe you love it through and through and it works for you 100%. If that’s the case for you, rock the fuck on!

But don’t tell me I should adopt your experience even though it isn’t mine, that I should lie and cover up my truth because it might “hurt” my kids someday, as if you have some monopoly on motherhood because you happen to be living an American-approved Hallmark movie.

Sometimes I hate motherhood. Other times I don’t. How is that hurtful? And even if it is hurtful, who gives a shit?

It’s true.

I don’t care if honesty is the “best” way to parent. I don’t care if telling the truth results in the “best” outcomes. All I know is this: THIS IS WHO I AM.

And I love my kids with every fiber of my being. My love for them pulses like blood through my veins, like the very blood that sustains my life.

And if that’s true, which it is, why would I ever doubt the validity of my occasional loathing for them? That’s true too, and it’s happening in me, and I’m an alright human who loves her kids.

It isn’t wrong because I’m not wrong. I am a human being with a good heart and strong mind, trying my best in a world I barely understand and I’ll tell you right now I would give my life for my kids. Since that’s true, I have nothing to prove.

So why would I shirk from the REST of the truth? Why would I admit the loving part but deny the rest?

Because I’m scared? Because I think it’s wrong? Because it would break my grown children’s hearts and souls to know their mama loved them desperately AND occasionally considered launching herself into oncoming traffic to escape the sound of their bickering?

No, that can’t be it, because, hmmm…

OH YEAH THAT’S RIGHT.

It’s exactly how they feel about their fucking children.

I “offend” people, a lot.

I don’t give a shit, a lot.

I’m not a cold-hearted person. I’m actually quite sensitive. But when people write “This offends me” or “I’m offended by this,” the only thing I think to myself is “It is impossible for me to convey how little I care.” Not because I’m evil (though that may be true), but rather because I just don’t understand what the hell that’s got to do with me.

Recently I wrote a post referring to “childless” people. I used that word because I wanted to refer to people without children, and “people without children” is three words whereas “childless” is one. And since I’m into the whole brevity thing, I decided on the latter. If you hop over and read the comment thread, you’ll see numerous comments clarifying that “childless” is an offensive, politically incorrect term. The word is “childFREE.” ChildLESS implies a void.

See now this is precisely the moment where they lose me. Yes, of course “childless” implies a void. In English, when you add the word “less” to the end of another word, it means “without” that thing. Hence, without children, which is precisely what I’m trying to say. Forgive me, but I’m not going to INVENT some new word because you find the actual word unpalatable.

I know there are people suffering from infertility, and this word must pierce them, and that makes me feel sad, but can you imagine if we kept changing up English every seven minutes to accommodate every individual experience ever known to humankind? I didn’t set out to hurt people’s feelings. I was just writing. And I’m not particularly invested in the word “childless.” But the fact is I’m not responsible for crafting ideas that are pleasant and palatable and gentle on every version of human on earth today.

I will always hurt people, somehow, and they will always hurt me.

The reason some words are replaced by others (“humankind” for “mankind” or “artificial” or “human-made” for “manmade”) is that they are inaccurate.  They erase women. Women are also humans. And unless you know without a doubt that not a single female played a part in the creation of whatever’s in question, then you are misspeaking to call it “manmade.”

But I wasn’t misspeaking. I was merely pissing people off and hurting feelings.

And really, in the end, as harsh as this sounds, who gives a fuck about feelings?

You, your spouse, the people close to you. Feelings are super useful in indicating to us that something’s wrong, that we need to take some action. Internal unrest is a great indicator that our feet or mouths need to do something: Leave, tell the truth, clean up a past action or wrong. Talk about something. Call somebody. Click off this bitch’s webpage.

But people (whiners) of the fucking internet, your feelings are not sufficient evidence that the world should do something different.

In other words, it’s not our problem you’re “offended.”

Let’s think about this for a moment. You’re offended. You’ve taken offense. You announce that on a website or comment thread (or to a live human being) as if it means something, as if it’s some grand proclamation with relevance and importance, but all you’re really saying is this: “I don’t know you and you don’t know me, and we’ve had two totally different lives, but your existence is not validating mine, and that makes me sad, and therefore you should stop doing what you’re doing.”

Do you see how insane that is?

“I’ve had a unique experience of life and my feelings reflect that experience but you don’t, and so YOU’RE WRONG! Stop it! I’m hurt! Wahhhh!”

The problem is not that you’re “offended.” The problem is that you think the rest of the world should care, do something about it, change its behavior to accommodate your inner self.

I hate to break it to you, but your feelings are your own. They’re not mine. They’re not his or hers or theirs or the douchebag writing that article. They are YOURS. Own it, dude. Deal with it.

Every time I hear somebody say “I used to be an alcoholic but now I drink moderately” I want to bash them in the face and my heart sinks into my toes, because that ignorance furthers the plight of actual alcoholics, who of course can’t safely touch alcohol in any form. And there are people dying in the fucking gutters from this disease, and it sure isn’t helping to have people calling themselves alcoholics announcing that they’ve seen the light and “learned to drink reasonably.”

But I know that because I am an alcoholic, because I was dying in a gutter (well actually it was a beige Ford Taurus but who’s counting?). My feelings are hurt because I know – no, I’ve experienced something –this person has not. But that’s not their problem, is it? It’s mine. If I really want to be helpful, perhaps I attempt to explain my perspective, if the opportunity arises. But simply proclaiming “You offend me!” is about the most useless, narcissistic, entitled and meaningless statement ever.

Am I so important that the world should bow and shift and change because my inner self is wounded?

Poor inner child.

Grow the fuck up.

It must be frustrating to troll around the internet endlessly announcing the offense you take to this and that only to find a bunch of unfeeling bags looking at you like “Yes, and?”

But check it out: People find gay people “offensive.” People once found integrated schools “offensive.” People find people of other races, ethnicities and sexes “offensive.” People find breastfeeding in public “offensive.” People find uncovered heads “offensive.” I could go on all day.

Do you see my point here?

The fact that you find something “offensive” cannot possibly mean anything to anybody other than YOU, because if it did, if the world really had to respond to every offense ever taken by every person to ever walk this earth, well come on, you know that’s ridiculous. Nobody would be able to say or write or do anything. The world would turn into some giant vanilla ego-stroking orgy. And there’s no way that’s any fun.

So if that’s true, if quite clearly the world can’t respond to every offended person on the planet, WHAT, dare I ask, makes you so fucking special?

Oh, yes. That’s right. You’re not. You’re only that special in your own head, and possibly your mom’s.

So once again, we’re back to “your problem.”

My problem.

So please, people of the interwebs getting offended all the time and sharing it with us (and then getting more offended because nobody cares), for the love of logic and effectiveness, move beyond your damn feelings for a minute and look at what’s causing them.

Tell me why I’m wrong.

Tell me what I’m not seeing.

Tell me what you’ve experienced that I have not, leading you to see the world differently, from a different place in a different way, and maybe, just maybe, even an asshole like me will take a moment to think about what you’re saying.

Because to begin with, you’re actually, finally, saying something.

So go you.

And now, a moment of silence in reverence for Stephen Fucking Fry. The man-god.