UK Shameless vs. US Shameless

POSSIBLE SPOILERS

Image from: http://shameless.wikia.com/wiki/Frank_Gallagher

I'm an unabashed Shameless fan.  I love the US version and am up to date on that. I also love the UK version, but I have not finished all episodes available on Hulu quite yet. After a lot of episodes of both, I have come to the true conclusion that the Brit's version is better, although there are characters I like better on the US version.

I find the UK version to be more real.  Chatsworth Estate IS poverty. Cramped, dingy, neighbors right up your ass. Crime is rampant; in fact, the Maguires (Milkovich's in US version), a crime family, live right next door to the Gallagher clan. The characters are much more down to earth and believable.  Not every one is a gorgeous human being with a perfect body; they look like people you'd see walking down your street, not standing next to a Hollywood star or walking the red carpet.

The Gallaghers may be down and out in the US version, but they have a huge house I would love to have for my large family.

Frank Gallagher in the US version is pretty much just a huge piece of shit most of the time, using his children, not caring for anyone but himself.  UK's version has a lot more nuance and is more than the caricature portrayed on the US show. He has feelings, he actually does care about his children, but is still a piece of shit. He's got the red cheeks, the gin blossom, and greasy hair. William H. Macy is amazing and I adore him, but he looks too good to be an alcoholic.

So, UK Frank wins it for me. As for the other characters:

Fuck your prayers

I am having a hard time working today. I do customer support through chat, email, and phone, and I find myself crying off and on all morning.

I am so hurt and so angry at our government and many of our people. I just find it so disheartening that while our children go to school and get murdered, you are more interested in keeping your guns.

NO ONE HAS EVER COME FOR YOUR HAND GUNS OR YOUR HUNTING RIFLES. NEVER.  Obama had eight years and despite your idiotic tropes, he never took your guns.

You care more about your right to own weapons of mass destruction than you do about my kids' right to go to school without worrying where they'll hide from a shooter. My fucking family members care more about it than they do about my kids, their own kids. It's...sick.

I am so proud of the kids at the school. David Hogg had me sobbing through my stretching at the gym the other day when someone ill-advisedly turned on the news in the fitness room. They are leading the way this time, and I want to hug every one of them. I want to assure them that someone does care about their friends dying.

I saw a tweet suggesting we all keep our kids out of school until our government decides their lives are important. I would support that.  Maybe even just a day. I don't know what to do at this point, but I sure as hell won't be praying for change. Even the mythical Jesus said you have to do more than pray. Pray, then DO. THE. WORK.

Regret-free Abortion

Today is Roe V Wade's anniversary. The other day our shithole president addressed March for Life (butlolfuckyouifyouarealreadyalivingchildorwomanonthisplanetespeciallyawomanorchildofcolor) protest, claiming he gives a shit about the lives of children and women. Women called bullshit, of course.

Women aren't going to stand for his dumbass bullshit, trying to drag us into back alleys for our abortions. And in case you didn't know Dump was a flaccid flip flopper, here's proof he is lying to his redneck anti-woman base.  

So if you believe Dump is anti-choice, you're wrong. I bet there are dozens of women who have expelled Dump's nasty cell clumps from their uteri. I mean, christ on a cracker, we can't have more Don Jr and Erics and Ivankas running around. That's fucking disgusting. 

I have had two abortions and I have not had a single moment of regret. The first guy who impregnated me was abusive, and he was excited about the pregnancy. He wanted the baby, way more than he wanted me. He wanted to marry me. He also barred me from leaving a room when we got into a fight, and pinned me to the wall. He also cheated on me during our brief summer fling. I had no doubt that I would be having an abortion, and I did. I dodged a big bullet with him.

The second time was with a boyfriend that I later married. He supported the decision, and I don't know if he really wanted me to have the baby or not, but it doesn't matter, because I didn't.   No regrets, not a single moment wondering what if I hadn't. Two regret-less abortions. 

The situations were quite different but my decision was not and I am happy I made those decisions. The most harmful thing about the process for me was when I naively went to a Crisis Pregnancy Center expecting them to provide what they advertised, referrals for abortion. Instead a nasty old woman in polyester pants tried to convince me to keep the baby, even sent me a postcard at home, a clear violation of privacy, and called my house as "a friend." She gave me booties for my precious baby, which I threw in a dumpster.

The Bad Christmas

The year before we took in our nieces and nephews, they had an awful Christmas.

Their mom, though she was supposedly working full time and then some, and making tips, neglected to buy them any presents.

She should have gone to her parents. They would have made sure to buy a few things for them, if they knew my sister-in-law had nothing for her kids. But since she was leaving the house every day for 12 hours, they thought she was working (and maybe she still was at that point, I really can't say), and had no reason to believe that she couldn't provide this for her children.

My mother and father in law are raising two grandkids from another sister-in-law, so that Christmas morning the kids began opening their presents. My MIL noticed that my SIL's kids were sitting, still hopeful but sad-eyed, watching their cousins tear into gifts. When asked, my SIL teared up and said she had bought presents, but they had been stolen out of her car in the Wal Mart parking lot. All that was left was a movie for her youngest son - Toy Story 3.

The only gifts they got were what their grandparents got them; well, we had gotten them gifts but we were broke that Christmas and so only got them a few small items from the local thrift shop. The kids came over to my house that evening to play.  Some of the older kids took my daughter's brand new bean bag and tried to hang it from the rafters in the basement and swing on it.  It immediately tore and spilled out millions of staticky, white balls. I got so angry at them for that. I yelled at them. The bean bag was pink corduroy, it was really big, and my youngest daughter loved it. I made them clean up those white balls for over an hour, and I was still huffy.

Later the kids were upstairs and I asked them what they got for Christmas, and they told me they'd gotten pajama pants from Grams and Papa. They recounted the story of their presents being stolen, and I immediately got pissed because I knew it was a lie. I also immediately felt like dogshit for chastising them for breaking the bean bag.

The next Christmas came up, and we knew we had to make that up to them. We got help from the school - two different organizations got gifts for the kids. My beautiful, generous friends bought all the kids gifts. We splurged too much too, and that morning when they came up the stairs, we recorded their faces, so bright and surprised and nearly in disbelief. Three more Christmases and we spoiled them rotten. I tried not to, but I'd go overboard and it would take us several months to get caught up on the bills again.

Finally, this year we scaled it back. The kids are older now and some of them mainly wanted clothes. We decided no new electronics; they are on computers, tablets, phones, etc., enough already. So they each got about five gifts and a stocking. For seven kids, that's still 35 presents. The baby only got a couple, of course (oh, I forgot to mention, my youngest nephew is now living with his dad and doing fairly well. We also had a new baby about 18 months ago) and the kids had their stockings as well, filled with candy and small gifts. We are still behind a bit but will be caught up next paycheck. It was important to us to dim the memory of that last bad Christmas with their mom.  I doubt we succeeded, except inasmuch as kids memories do blur when they are that young.

But even if they never forget that bad day, I hope it will at least be overshadowed by the happier holidays.