Pointing and Laughing

In “Well, no shit” news today, Florida’s lost a bunch of money drug-testing its welfare applicants over a 4-month period.  To the tune of over $45,000, lawmakers in Florida found out that not only did the number of applicants not go down, but only 2% of the tests were positive (most for marijuana use).  The state had to reimburse the applicants who passed, so the state ended up paying more for the testing than if the applicants had received benefits.  Which leads me to say:

HA, HA, TOLD YOU SO.  I FUCKIN TOLD YOU SO. 

Like I always say...FUCK OFF...er, I was right.

The Feminist Breeder shared a link yesterday about the failure of this program to prove…well, anything they wanted it to prove, that’s for sure.  Some of the comments on TFB’s facebook page were eye-rollers.  Some woman said “What’s harsh is when u go apply at the welfare office and in the parking lot u c brand new cars.  They don’t belong to the workers.  Its all the other people on welfare.”  How does one go about discovering this information?  Did this odd woman ask around in the office, applicants and employees alike, to identify the make, model, and year of their vehicles?  I’m pretty sure she wasn’t just talking out of her ass, you guys.  Probably.  You might say it’s none of this lady’s fucking business who drives what, when they got it, how much they paid for it, etc. 

But!  Drug testing is not unfair to poor people, and it’s not discrimination, as some other person points out smartly. 

It’s not discrimination when you are asking tax payers and the government to financially support you.  Just because someone passes a drug test does not mean they are drug free.  I know tons of people who have collected their child’s urine in order to pass a test.  Many people slip through the cracks.  Millions.

Listen, she knows thousands of pounds’ worth of people who use their child’s urine to pass a piss test.  Who knows how many people that is!  Though if they’re poor, they must be fat, amirite, commenter?  All those munchies from the weed and the crap food they buy with their food stamps, you know. 

And don’t dare question her, because this chick knows what she’s talking about.  “Millions is an accurate statement.  Millions of welfare receivers nationwide are on drugs and use the free money for illegal purposes.  Also online reports can be biased and missing key information.  Just because it’s on the Internet doesn’t make it true.”  Except what she just said.  That’s true. 

Besides, this happened to another commenter: 

This is a tough one for me…i was at the grocery store recently and the couple behind me smelled of pot so badly that my nose burned.  When they paid for their groceries, they paid with a welfare debit card.  Im all for helping the truly needy, but if u can afford to buy pot, I don’t need to buy your groceries.

A commenter who WASN’T an asshole pointed out that that commenter does not know that the couple bought the weed.  Stoners, as she pointed out, are notoriously generous.  Maybe someone gave them a bud.  Maybe they grow their own.  Either way, though, who gives a shit.  It’s not commenter X’s job to police the welfare recipients.  NOR IS SHE PAYING FOR ANYONE’S GROCERIES.  Not really, not any more than I’m paying for her roads and for her local fire department.  So STFU already with the whining, “I shouldn’t have to pay for that,” because you DON’T. 

Of course people on welfare use drugs—some of them.  Just like some congresspeople.  Just like some ranchers.  Just like some teachers.  Just like some internet commenters.  Just like some line cooks.  Just like some restaurant owners.  Just like some of every group everywhere ever.  Folks on public assistance don’t have the market cornered on drug use and government fraud.  So lay the fuck off.  And can I just say it one more time?

TOLD YOU SO.  TOLD YOU SO.  TOOOOOOOOOOLD YOU SOOOO. 

This is not goo on the belly, people

STILL want that abortion, dearie?

Just what in the crap is going on in this country, you guys?  A room full of men deciding the fate of birth control coverage?  But men can’t even…and they don’t…so why should they…what?! 

 Not only that, but Virginia, Texas, and Iowa with the forcible transvaginal ultrasound for women wanting an abortion?  Transvaginal – that’s up in the vagina, if you didn’t know.  That’s a medical instrument forcibly placed into your body (which you have to hold?!).  Um, so the FBI recently changed the definition of rape to include, well, EXACTLY THIS.  Penetration against one’s will.  And that’s what the mandatory ultrasound laws are about.  They’re not about smearing goo on a woman’s tummy and then forcing her to check out the screen with the wavy blue lines that is supposed to magically make her change her mind but actually pretty much never does.  The laws are about legalized rape. 

 And for what, you GOP assholes?  It’s dizzying how fast it comes down to treating women like children or chattel when you start unraveling the reasons a state would legalize rape.  Let’s see if we can follow it, if we slow it down a little:

1.       We think abortion is bad, which means

2.       Abortion is bad, which means

3.       Abortions shouldn’t happen which means

4.       If abortions still happen women don’t know better which means

5.       We have to protect the women from themselves which means

6.       We have to remind them of their natural purpose which means

7.       If we force them to look at wavy blue lines they will come around and they will thank us in the end.

I really can’t believe this is on the table at all, but let’s let the fact that it is fire us up.  Komen learned a lesson about politicking women’s lives, and I think the GOP needs a lesson about staying the eff out of women’s personal decisions. 

In Which a Confession and a Wish Occur.

I can’t be a Bitch.

There, I said it. My ex-husband may not agree, though, I have a suspicion that he might. Our divorce could have been way worse.

I have always wanted to be a bitch. To call the douchebag out in the bar. To shove the pretty girl telling me to “move back” at a concert. Get all up in someone’s face. To tell off the woman in the business suit that she is a horrible person for parking in the handicapped spot at PetSmart “just to grab Fluffykins some food.” But, I just can’t.

Seriously. The worse thing I have done is put an open barbeque sauce packet on a guy’s windshield because he thought it was funny to pretend he was going to run over my son in his stroller.

In my mind though, I do horrible things. Pour gasoline in the ex-boyfriend’s basement and then light a match. Pour vinegar into the pots of his most precious plants. Set the shed at the house I spent most of my marriage in on fire as a symbolic gesture. I put ex-lax in the mean girls brownies and spit in the new girlfriend’s shampoo. I imagine I scream at “that cute guy” everything he did wrong to hurt me, then point out how small his penis is and he doesn’t date for years. I have the potential to be a monster.

But instead, I admire from afar those who just say what they feel, risk it all and don’t care if anyone likes them for it. They trust in who they are.

My sister has always been known for not taking shit from anybody. She threw boys up against lockers for being uncouth in high school. When a couple of boys spit ALL over our bikes in grade school she made sure the boys who did it were not well liked and for one in particular, she kept his feminine hygiene product sounding last name memorable until high school graduation. This was before we called people douchebags. My sister is a revenge trendsetter. I’m in awe to this day.

My sister and I also work together. One day, our new boss was trying to be funny and throw paper at her while she was talking to someone. I told him, “You don’t mess with her. Trust me. She has been the one NOT to mess with in my family, forever.” I don’t think he took me seriously, but trust me, I think he is learning.

My brother is a quiet badass. Just hangs out and chills out but if someone messes with his sisters, all bets are off. He and my younger sister were at a hardcore show when some guy, probably messed up on meth or something, kept slamming into my sister. My brother pushed the guy away as one does at a hardcore show but the dude kept coming back. So my brother punched the guy IN THE FOREHEAD.

Two days later, he found out he had broken his hand.

Hardcore, indeed.

So, see, I am not a bad ass. I’m more like a wimp. My anger comes through in the metaphors of my poems and even then, it is more like pain and melancholy. And I guess I fear that bringing all of that potential bitch energy to the page would just turn the language into a rant or some other non-eloquent movement of words. Perhaps, I am meant to deal with everything life throws at me in my own way but sometimes I feel it would benefit me more if I could embrace my inner bitch. Maybe she just isn’t there and instead I am made up inside of lost souls and battered saints.

Ugh…that does sound like something I would say.

art: "Set on Fire: (2009) by Kristoffer Zetterstrand