Modern Woman – A Response to the NYT’s “Modern Man” List (UPDATED – TWICE)


A feshow-my-boobs-nice-personality-funny-memew days ago, the New York Times published a list by Brian Lombardi, dicksplaining to the rest of the apparently substandard guys out there what a “modern man” should be, own, wear, read, and feel, as well as where he should sleep and park. If you heed Lombardi, the modern man is apparently a metrosexual, contradictory dick pickle, whose purpose in life is to do dishes, buy shoes, and plug in electronic devices for his woman. It was an article so ridiculous, that several of my author friends fisked it, including the Fiskmaster himself, Larry Correia, who savaged this sniveling manchild in his own inimitable style! You should go read Larry’s piece. It’s hilarious and informative.

I won’t try to outdo Larry on this one, because that fisk was beyond perfect, but I did get inspired, as I often do by my writer pals, to write my own advice to my daughter on how to be a modern woman. A real modern woman, not the whining, sniveling version of today’s feminist who wraps herself in a warm cloak of victimhood anytime life doesn’t hand her the success she feels she deserves merely because she owns a vagina and a set of tits.

I will parallel Lombardi’s piece, but there’s more to being a modern woman than kitchen utensils, shoes, and flowers. So here we go.

  1. The modern woman does not need her spouse or significant other to buy shoes for her. She knows what size she wears, she knows what style she likes, she goes out and buys it without expecting her man to do it for her.
  2. The modern woman gains her confidence from her accomplishments and her abilities. She never allows others to destroy her self-esteem, because her courage, determination, and tenacity do not depend on what others think of her.
  3. The modern woman chews with her mouth closed. She does not shove mouthfuls of food into her maw, and masticate food all over her shirt. She is comfortable using a knife and fork, chowing down chicken wings with her hands, or using chopsticks to grab bites of sashimi. And she does it all with panache.
  4. The modern woman does not tell others what they should eat and how they should eat it. She realizes that everyone’s tastes are their own, and she doesn’t need to pad her ego by chastising others to show how sophisticated her palette is and how inferior others are.
  5. The modern woman knows how to change a flat tire, change her oil, and perform a basic maintenance check on her car. And if she doesn’t, she knows where to find advice and help.
  6. And speaking of cars, the modern woman doesn’t wait for her daddy or her man to buy her a cute Miata for her birthday or for Christmas and doesn’t complain when she doesn’t get it or gets the wrong color. She saves her money, goes out, and gets what she wants.
  7. The modern woman takes care of her family and loved ones, which includes teaching them how to plug in their own fucking electronic devices, how to safely use the tools of self defense in the home, how to survive in the event of a zombie apocalypse, how to make a basic meal, budgeting, writing a resume, and dealing with self-important assholes who want to tell you how to live your life with aplomb.
  8. The modern woman doesn’t presume to tell others what kitchen gadgets to buy, what kind of food to eat, what kind of beverages to drink, what kind of vocabulary to use, or what kind of shoes or clothing to wear. She lives her own life as an independent human being – with or without a significant other – without making judgments on others’ choices if they don’t impact her own life.
  9. The modern woman can take constructive criticism without claiming grievances against her womanhood or dignity. She certainly doesn’t claim that criticism on social media gave her PTSD or made her bedridden and in fear for her mental state.
  10. The modern woman refuses to be treated as a victim. She understands her vulnerabilities and weaknesses and works to overcome them, instead of using them as excuses for her lack of achievement and success.
  11. The modern woman does not rely on her plumbing to help her succeed. She relies on her intellect. And she certainly doesn’t blame alleged hatred for said plumbing on her failures. She doesn’t use her tits in lieu of smarts and abilities.
  12. The modern woman knows how to defend herself and doesn’t hide behind her man. She complements his firepower with her own.
  13. The modern woman strives for knowledge. She understands she has a lot to learn, and is willing to learn it from any source available. She doesn’t shun knowledge because it comes from the wrong gender or skin color. She does not take offense at being wrong. She takes it as a learning opportunity.
  14. The modern woman takes responsibility for her own actions and accepts the consequences. She does not blather about privilege. She merely acknowledges her mistakes, corrects them, and moves on. The maximum effective range of an excuse is and always has been zero.
  15. The modern woman doesn’t suffer in cripplingly uncomfortable clothing and shoes, so that others will ooh and aah about how hot she is. She knows how to be comfortable and look her best without wobbling around in stripper heels like a clumsy newborn calf. And by the way, she also knows appropriate clothing styles for the office, the home, the party, or the wedding without trying to wear spandex skirts short enough to show off her labia to work.
  16. The modern woman doesn’t complain if a man opens a car door for her. She’s capable of doing so herself, and secure in the knowledge that he is being polite, not condescending.
  17. The modern woman doesn’t choose a man who wants to whip out a yard stick to prove how manly he is. She doesn’t need him to shield her, to coddle her, or to pay her way. She wants a partner, not a daddy. She wants a best friend, not a leech. She wants him to appreciate her intellect, her femininity, her wit, and her humor, but doesn’t try to alter the best in her to fit his perceptions. Same goes for lesbians, but sans yard stick.
  18. The modern woman can drive a stick shift and kill her own spiders.
  19. The modern woman doesn’t draw validation about her worth from others’ opinions.
  20. The modern woman is realistic. She knows she is physically and mentally different from men, and doesn’t get offended when others acknowledge that fact.
  21. The modern woman isn’t afraid of bad words, but she uses them as a supplement to her point, not as a substitute for it.
  22. The modern woman doesn’t want to be a protected class or a special interest group.
  23. The modern woman doesn’t view sex as something sinful and embarrassing to titter ashamedly about with her friends. She embraces her sexuality and her desires, she’s proud of being a sexual being, but doesn’t try to use sex to boost her self esteem, mitigate her feelings of mediocrity, or manipulate her partner.
  24. The modern woman isn’t afraid to show off her body, but doesn’t dress like a cheap whore to do so. And she knows and understands the difference.
  25. The modern woman respects the man who reads news and knows what’s going on in the world. And she doesn’t give a rat’s flying ass whether he reads said news on his phone, his e-reader, or in paper form.
  26. The modern woman enjoys spending time with her significant other, discussing any topic they both find interesting, and not worrying about whether or not his Kenneth Cole oxfords make noise on whatever floor they both decide is best for their home.
  27. The modern woman cries if she feels the need to do so, but doesn’t use those tears as a weapon against the world, a tool of manipulation, or a way to gain attention. Emotion is a deeply personal thing, especially when it involves tears – be it of joy or sorrow. To use those tears to manipulate others into doing your bidding is reprehensible.

Feel free to add your own points in the comments and send this to those who may need some practical advice.

UPDATE: The beautiful and talented Cedar Sanderson crowdsourced her article about the modern woman, and the replies are glorious to behold! Go. Read. Enjoy.

UPDATE ZEE SECOND: I just found out Chicks on the Right also linked to this piece, as well as Larry’s. Thank you, ladies. I’m honored!

Amen, Sista!


I haven’t been involved in the Sad Puppy “controversy” manufactured – maybe too strong a word – but certainly promoted by the shrill, shrieking shrew K. Tempest Bradford of “The Social Justice Warrior Racist Reading Challenge”. If you haven’t 40558488@N00_rread this bit of pompous spew, do yourself a favor, and don’t – unless, of course, you like having your blood pressure rise so quickly and so high, that your brain explodes out of your eyeballs. The bottom line of this porcine twunt is: stop reading literature written by straight, white males. You’ll be better off. (translation: Talent and writing ability don’t matter. Choose your reading list based on the plumbing, color, sexual orientation, and gender identity of the author, because RACISM… or something.)

Given how many of my friends are authors, I figure this manufactured “controversy” deserves at least a mention here.

The Sad Puppy campaign, according to one of its creators author Larry Correia, “was a campaign to get talented, worthy, deserving authors who would normally never have a chance nominated for the supposedly prestigious Hugo awards.”

I started this campaign a few years ago because I believed that the awards were politically biased, and dominated by a few insider cliques. Authors who didn’t belong to these groups or failed to appease them politically were shunned. When I said this in public, I was called a liar, and told that the Hugos represented all of fandom and that the awards were strictly about quality. I said that if authors with “unapproved” politics were to get nominations, the quality of the work would be irrelevant, and the insider cliques would do everything in their power to sabotage that person. Again, I was called a liar, so I set out to prove my point.

Notice the campaign wasn’t meant to get straight, white males nominations for the awards. It was to get TALENTED, WORTHY, DESERVING AUTHORS recognition. The background to all this is in the link I provided above, so if you want to read it, that’s a great place to start – from the keyboard of the talented, worthy, deserving author who started the campaign.

And guess what! It was a resounding success! Authors supported by the Sad Puppies got a ton of nominations in an arena that for a long time has been dominated by exclusionary social justice warrior types, who are now spitting, crying, and wringing their collective hankies that talented authors that weren’t approved by their clique have gotten nods. Because dog forbid the nominations include anyone other than their approved pet victims!

Tempest over there went on an obscenity-laced Facebook tirade about it. Not that I mind obscenity. Please. I revel in it… if it’s creative and appropriate. Unfortunately it was neither in her case – surprising, considering that she’s supposedly a writer or something. Witness the lack of originality, and revel in the teeth gnashing!

Here’s a thing: I need people to stop responding to this Sad Puppies/Hugo thing with “well, if you want to change things, you should have voted.”

First: Fuck you.

Second: Has your ass been paying attention to the conversations in this community for the past 5, 10, 20, 30 years on this topic? because, if you haven’t, I invite you to shut your damn mouth.

You see, if you had been paying attention you’d know that lots of people do and did nominate. And in the past few years more and more people who care about diversity in SFF have been making an effort to join the WorldCon voting ranks.

THIS IS WHY SAD PUPPIES EXISTS. Not because some people just happened to decide, but because the mostly white mostly male contingent of whiny assholes saw that there was a shift happening toward a more diverse Hugo slate and away from their ilk and decided to work against it. And bring in people fro outside of the community to help them.

If you don’t fucking know this then you should keep your opinions in your head.

Third: If you can’t or don’t attend WorldCon, the only way to vote is to become a supporting member. That costs $50. Does everyone have $50 to spend on this? No, no they don’t. As I said, in the past few years there has been an upsurge in people willing to do so because they feel it’s important. But again, the mostly white mostly men who are involved in Sad Puppies and the mostly white, mostly men brought in from gamer gate have money to spare (this is often a result of said whiteness and maleness). For them $50 is no big deal. For others it is not.

So fucking cut it out acting like “Oh, you can just vote”. It’s not that simple.

This is a class issue, a race issue, a gender issue. In other words, it’s intersectional. And I know some of you have a hard time with that concept. I don’t care. You’ve had plenty of time to figure it out. I’m real tired of your inability to understand these things,

Speaking of “whiny assholes…”

I won’t bother fisking this cunt nugget’s dull-witted rant, but Sarah Hoyt did a fantastic job doing just that, so I would urge you to read it. And she does it without all the creative invective I would have used.

Here’s the thing, boys and girls. Tempest and other teeth gnashers lie. They refuse to acknowledge that the Sad Puppy slate this year included women and minorities, as well as white males. They refuse to acknowledge that the Hugos and any other awards aren’t a bloody affirmative action program, and they shouldn’t be. And when whiny social justice warriors drool about the unfairness of using objective criteria rather than just handing an award to a black-pansexual-illegal-alien-transgendered-paraplegic because they happen to be a black-pansexual-illegal-alien-transgendered-paraplegic and not because they’re a talented writer, you have to wonder about their ability to reason and comprehend.

Stuff it, SJWs. You lost. Deal with it.

Buck up, Cupcake! Life is tough.


At the risk of sounding insensitive…

OK, I really don’t give a crap. You caught me. Sensitivity to me means simply that you have to be aware that some people are too weak, too cowardly, too fragile, or too dishonest to themselves to hear the truth, and frankly, I have no time for those people. So this is your warning: I’m going to be brutally honest and insensitive in this post, and if your delicate little ego can’t take it, I suggest you close your browser and go take an herbal bath, chased by a glass of boxed wine, or something.

I’ve written about feminism before in the context of victimhood. There aren’t a whole lot of people who have spent any amount of time reading this blog who don’t know how I feel about whiny, diaphanous snowflakes, who consider themselves heroes, because they somehow survived the insurmountable hurdle of people disagreeing with them, or even *gasp* doing so in a less than respectful way!

I don’t consider that heroic. I consider that part of life. Life is filled with challenges. Getting over them doesn’t make you a hero. It makes you a human being.

Lately, I’ve seen a video on my Facebook feed that is being perpetually reposted by feminist types, who find it appalling that a bunch of meat heads would catcall and harass a woman merely walking down the street.

There’s no doubt that the cave-dwelling Neanderthals who approached this woman on the street were utter knuckle-dragging cretins. After a couple of hours of that crap, I’d probably turn around and throat punch one of them. Hard. I’d also probably wind up in jail, but hey… I’m willing to face the consequences of my actions.

But of course, things are never that simple in feminism world! The video’s release resulted in reactions ranging from, “It’s appalling that women can’t feel at ease in public,” to “Why do men feel free to demand attention from a woman?” to “ERMARGERD! RACISM!” because the majority of the men depicted in this video are black and Latino.

All of a sudden “harassment” is a thing – a prevalent societal ill that oppresses women, instead of merely an irritant that would result in a dressing down of the offending savage. Gone are the days of simply turning around, offering a remark so caustic, that the imbecile in question slinks away with his dick between his legs, and going on one’s merry way. Today, we must necessarily have a public discussion about how this is just another example of how women are oppressed and harassed at the hands of men, and how this is an endemic societal problem, and how the poor oppressed women in question shouldn’t have to put up with this egregious abuse!

It’s appalling women can’t feel at ease in a public place…” You know, no one is responsible for how you feel but you. Is it ridiculous that a woman can’t walk from point A to point B without being accosted by some barely literate, drooling ignoramus, wanting to have what in his own head passes for conversation, but in fact is an incoherent stringing together of grunts and barely-recognizable words? Sure it’s ridiculous. But your feelings of ease are your own. If you can’t shrug off the doofus and move on with your day without feeling like you’ve been assaulted, you might be a feminist.

Why do men feel free to demand attention from a woman?” Maybe because it’s a free country. Maybe because some guys are driven by that great force that resides between their legs and saps the blood from their already deprived cerebellum. Maybe they were raised in a barn – without any manners or breeding. But mostly, because they are free to do so, just as you are free to ignore them, actively spurn their advances by administering a throat punch (although I don’t recommend this unless you’re willing to spend some time in a holding cell), or take them home for a night of naked Twister.

Showing only black and Latino guys is RAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSST!” This is my favorite. The video’s creator did admit that a fair amount of white guys engaged in imbecilic behavior as well, but mostly for technical reasons, they had to cut many out. Undoubtedly, there are a number of rude, irritating, cavemen out there who are white. I couldn’t possibly care less what color the cro-magnon happens to be. A jackass is a jackass. But apparently, some people are more concerned about how racially sensitive the piece is, than with the fact that the woman is getting harassed. Why the hell should it matter whether the harasser is black, white, purple, green or yellow?

Overall, here’s how I see this: this shit has been going on since the first caveman grabbed the first cavewoman by the hair and dragged her into his cave for some primitive humping. Sure, it has become more refined over time (and by refined I mean that the cavemen no longer physically drag the cavewomen by the hair, but rather use primitive attempts to communicate via grunts, clicks, and trolling to get their point across), but it’s pretty much been around forever.

Is it annoying? Yes.

Is it stupid? Yes.

Does it paint the ape in question as a drooling, troglodyte? Absolutely.

Should it be elevated to the level of a societal tragedy so deep that every feminist out there claims PTSD because she heard a wolf whistle from some unwashed, rude barbarian? Please!

There are all kinds of shitbags out there in the world. I guarantee that for every swine you encounter who treats you like the target of his overactive, inadequate excuse for a penis, there’s a guy who thinks he’s a douchebag.

The fact that this woman got harassed so much in this crowded city doesn’t mean she would encounter the same type of thing elsewhere. As many have mentioned, these ass weasels all were dressed like they were hanging out on the streets all day rather than actually working. Based on their shameful behavior, it’s certainly safe to assess with a certain amount of confidence that they’re likely not employed and come from a background that lacked any type of training or education about respect for others, or self. One certainly wouldn’t act like this in any respectable place of employment without getting shitcanned post haste. So we’re probably looking at a certain socio-economic class of shitbag in this particular case.

Is this a societal problem writ large deserving of the clamor it received, and the obvious efforts to make this into yet another thing that ostensibly oppresses women? No.

There will be assholes in this world, Cupcakes. You don’t have to like them. You don’t have to put up with them. You certainly don’t have to allow them to affect you! That choice is yours.

The only person who can make you into a victim in this case is you.

Another phony PTS sufferer collects cash she hasn’t earned


So, the other day, I wrote about Melody Hensley and her dubious claims that she contracted Teh PTSD™ from Twitter users being mean to her. What I didn’t tell you was that she has now started a fundraiser for people with PTSD, ostensibly because she’s been bullied, harassed and had her life threatened by the Internet.

Now, I don’t know what she has done to earn this alleged reaction, but I’m fairly sure I’m more offensive on any given day than she is. The difference is I don’t whine or claim bullying when I elicit the responses that I do. I just move on… or ridicule the responder… or even sometimes I admit they’re right! *GASP* I know… it doesn’t happen often.

This brings me to the next woman who claims she caught Teh PTSD™ – this time from an imaginary ship. Why do I say “imaginary”? Because according to her military records, this heinoceros has never stepped foot on a ship. (Thanks to This Ain’t Hell)


And why do I say “heinoceros”? Because this creature also claims to have been gang raped by six shipmates, and while I understand that rape is about control and power, and not about looks… …given that she lied about her service… …and given this ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓


Oh. Dear. Gawd. On. A. Popsicle. Stick. I’m not seeing how anyone could get it up for that.

And the only ship she’s seen is probably the Goodship LollypopJellyDonutCandyPoundcakeFrenchfry.

What pisses me off even more is that she is using these outrageous lies to bilk people out of thousands of dollars in donations with a scam to open a ranch for folks with PTS (sound familiar?), and has disappeared with the money.

Additionally, there are very real victims of sexual assault, both in the military and out. She has now set their battle for justice back thanks to her shenanigans.

The bitch deserves a real beatdown from real people – people whose lives are affected by her lies.

And if you come over here telling me that I have no right to judge this douche rocket’s alleged “suffering,” or that I don’t know her background, or that her VA doctors apparently fell for her bogus PTS claims, and where is my medical degree that I feel qualified to judge her, just don’t bother. If you feel you have to defend this sow, I can’t help you, and I may even lose my temper to such a degree, that you will wind up with PTSD after I’m done with you!

While the fugasaurus above was simply stealing money under the guise of trying to help actual victims of PTS, I doubt Hensley will run away with whatever she collects.

I do, however, think that she is using her fundraiser not only to help people with PTS, but to bolster her own credibility. And while I hate ascribing alternate motives to people when they’re trying to help others, given Hensley’s propensity for drama…    

It kind of speaks for itself.

I got sand in my vagina, and it’s all Twitter’s fault!


A self-proclaimed feminist and atheist from Washington claims she got Teh PTSD™ from Twitter, and not only that but it’s as bad as the post traumatic stress service members suffer in combat!

Yeah, I thought this was from The Onion too, but apparently it’s real.

Melody Hensley was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder 16 months ago following online abuse, which she says is the result of her being an outspoken feminist and atheist.

She caused upset to many military veterans and their families and friends when she claimed her PTSD from Twitter trolls was as bad as mental anguish suffered by those who do active duty.

Let’s, for a moment, assume that this woman really does have a disorder, and that it is so severe, that she cannot leave her bed or her house, as she claims. Let’s assume that her symptoms are comparable to those of vets who saw their battle buddies – people with whom they were as close as family – blown up, who held their friends’ mangled bodies as they died, who picked up pieces of their friends from the bloody streets, or even of those who spent a year under the threat of enemy fire every day.

(I should get a Medal of Honor just for being able to actually force myself to write that sentence!)

What kind of pusillanimous, spineless zero would allow Internet trolls to affect her in this manner?

What kind of FEMINIST would allow a bunch of idiots to victimize her to the point of incapacitation?

FEMINIST? My aching asshole!

So, I responded to Hensley’s claims on Twitter with my usual… eh… tact.  Hey, you all should be proud of me. I didn’t curse!

And wouldn’t you know it, I got a reply! Not from Hensley, but from a horde of shrieking harpies, who jumped to her defense like tics looking for fresh blood!

It started with someone claiming I’m an embarrassment to feminism, because I don’t subscribe to the “Hensley is a survivor” theory.

Yes, you read this correctly. This person actually believes that someone who got sand in her vagina because of a bunch of Internet trolls is a “survivor,” which implies an internal strength – intestinal fortitude – to fight and win against a challenge or threat.

As ridiculous as this sounds, these… uh… women apparently believe that curling up in a ball, sucking your thumb and claiming victimhood is somehow comparable to actually fighting a battle and winning it. (Added: Someone informed me that this Oolon thing is a male. Wow, I wonder if its testicles actually ever dropped!)

Another one joined the fray with the following (click on the twitter pic, if it doesn’t show up):

And she got the most appropriate reply possible, given her implication, and responded in the only way you expect ignorant cowards with no actual mental capacity to discuss anything of substance to respond.

Other Tweets followed from various feministas about how I’m a horrible person, about how I have no right “to dismiss someone’s claims of having PTSD” (I do have that right under the First Amendment, unless of course, Twitter decides I’ve used their service inappropriately and makes a decision to shut me down), and, of course, the ubiquitous claim of “harassment,” which is not covered by the First Amendment.  Never mind that one Tweet from one individual refuting the whole “I’m a feminist, I’m a victim, and I will persevere against mean people” PTSD claim does not qualify under the legal definition of harassment; these shrews persisted.

Of course, the problem with that claim is that one individual tweeting one critical thought does not harassment constitute. Not even under the most liberal of definitions. But you know what does constitute harassment per the shrew’s claim? The group of them attacking me. When I pointed that inconvenient fact out to the hag horde they quickly stopped tweeting at me for some unknown reason. Funny how that works, eh? But if you think it ended there, you’re sadly mistaken. Tweets ranged from “Fuck you, I have PTSD from a car crash” to this little gem here:

And you know what they all had in common?

The claim that somehow their “victimhood” gave them moral authority over their adversary.

These people claim their weakness is their strength. They couldn’t possibly fight their adversaries without the pedestal that is their oozing sore. They couldn’t possibly defeat challenges without using the ladder of victimhood. Their claim to martyrdom is, in their eyes, what gives credibility to their claims and bolsters their arguments.

It’s pathetic.

If they fail to achieve something, it’s because they were victimized.

If they did achieve something, they aggrandize the accomplishment by their “survivor” status.

They need validation at every turn about how strong and capable they are, and if you don’t give it to them, “Fuck you! I’m a survivor.”

And this is what is considered feminism nowadays?

This simplistic, sad excuse doesn’t even come close!

Feminism is a state of mind. It’s the recognition that you may be at a disadvantage, but you will figure out a way to defeat your adversary anyway. It’s not clubbing your opponent over the head with your festering wounds and claiming a moral victory, but rather the ability to win despite those wounds, so your enemy never knows you had them in the first place.

Feminism does not involve curling up in a ball and sucking your thumb in defeat, and then using that defeat to claim victim status. It’s not reveling in being a victim and not advertising your weakness to the world, but overcoming that suffering and persevering anyway.

These women aren’t feminists.

They are deplorable, miserable victims, who think so little of themselves and their abilities, that their weakness becomes the single most important weapon in their arsenal – a weapon they use to shame others into submission.

You’re hurtful…

You’re harassing…

You’re an awful person…

You’re privileged (always my favorite one)…

You’re blaming the victim…

You’re appropriative (that’s one I haven’t seen before, but I’m sure it has everything to do with my so-called “privilege”)…

All this translates to is “You’re mean to me. I’m weaker than you are, and you should therefore genuflect in front of my defects.”

There’s no strength. There’s no struggle, except what is in these aching twits’ minds. There’s no effort. There’s no fight, no matter how much Hensley and her sniveling legions like to pretend there is.

Once you have admitted the ache in your vagina and relegated yourself to a bed for more than a year, you have lost. Opening your laptop to expose to the Twitter world your miserable, leaking sores does not qualify as “fighting,” no matter how loudly you whine to the contrary. It qualifies as nothing more than weak mewling, and that ain’t feminism either.

Get this straight – your failure is your own. It’s not mine, because I refuse to bow to your mediocrity. It’s not the world’s because their refusal to agree with you has caused you butthurt. It’s yours.

And to compare your inability to cope with the world to real trauma experienced by those who lose limbs, lose friends and lose lives is insulting and weak.

You want to be a whining martyr? Choose another category. I’ve taken feminism back.


Women and guns


I never thought I was a rare breed – a woman who actually enjoys shooting and takes personal responsibility for her own safety by having a concealed carry permit and actually carrying a gun.  But apparently, according to this guy, I’m some kind of an anomaly.  While examining the allegedly paltry number of women who attend NRA conventions, this particular misogynistic tool somehow decided that:

1 – Shooting sports will never be popular with women until women start worrying more about their guns than about their lipstick.

2 – Women won’t take any rational steps to defend themselves with the most effective tools on the market, because they’re too worried about getting dirty, smelly and whether or not their pretty little gun and its accessories match their shoes.

3 – Women won’t find training with their firearm as important as looking sexy in their earplugs.

No, I’m not even kidding.  Apparently, this tool lost his penis (which also doubles as his brain) somewhere in the depths of his desk drawer, which is likely filled with paraphernalia meant to make him look more masculine… you know… deer urine spray, a Zippo lighter, a body building magazine, along with a dog-eared, sticky copy of Maxim, and a small comb for that cheesy mustache.

Gee, am I generalizing?

How’s it feel?

Women & Guns


I’ve never been someone who screams for attention.  I write this blog for me – not for anyone else.  I don’t take advertising dollars.  I don’t plop my links down at more popular blogs just to get some traffic.  If my friends decide to link to my blog, I’m grateful, but I don’t live for traffic.  I don’t care if people read or not.  That’s why I sometimes use language that is… well… somewhat salty.  If people like what I write, I am grateful.  If they don’t, so what?

But this is one time I will toot my own horn.  Recently, a writer named Genie Jennings interviewed me for an article in Women & Guns magazine.  She used a combination of interview questions and passages from the very first article that I ever had published – The Moment – to write a very nice story about me.  It’s very sweet, and she did a great job. 

I’m sort of humbled, because she makes me sound a lot better than I am.  Yes, I served in the Army, both on active duty and in the National Guard.  Yes, I’m a mom.  Yes, I’m a blogger and a writer. It doesn’t sound nearly as impressive as when Genie writes about me, but I thank her for her kindness.

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