Saturday 22 February 2020

sex: the ins & outs of womanhood under the patriarchy

Some weeks ago, as I left the gym at 9 pm on a Thursday, stalker in tow, a strange thought occurred to me. Why was I being stalked? Why was a random stranger from the gym now following me down a dark street to my car, asking me if I am single and why I won't be his friend? Was this normal? Quizzically, I ran to my car, immediately locked my doors, drove home, and spent the next 24 hours staring at my bedroom ceiling, wishing I'd never been born. 

I never went back to the gym again. 


Sometimes I think about the weird 2004 science fiction thriller The Butterfly Effect. It was the sleepover movie to watch when I was 11. I feel like I was forever traumatised by that movie because in one of his timelines he loses his arms and in another timeline his friend's dad was a paedophile. I think someone also set fire to a puppy at some point. 

While maybe not appropriate for an 11-year-old, this movie introduced a new concept to my life. The idea that even the smallest actions have impacts; that nothing exists in a vacuum. Like when a butterfly flaps its wings in Chicago, and Tokyo is destroyed by a meteorite. Haters will say these are unrelated. 

The fact that small actions and ideas can incite larger, sometimes unintended consequences makes men like the one who followed me out of the gym all the more scary to me. I guess it just causes me to wonder what has happened during his life to make him think what he did was normal or OK. Has he heard or observed other men acting like this? Or has he just been raised in a world in which women are objects; without agency, opinions, and preferences?

This man was a complete stranger. And when he cornered me outside of the gym that night his first words to me were: "are you single?". That was clearly the only thing about me that was important to this man. Not my name, my age, what I do for a living; it was only my apparent availability to him that mattered.

The absurdity of some random man ambushing me outside the gym to ask me if I’m single was the implication that if I answered yes I was automatically available to him. And while I understand that the best way to get rid of men is to tell them that your dad is a police officer / prison guard and your boyfriend is a WWE heavyweight champion / serial killer, I just wished that I could tell him that whether or not I am single is entirely irrelevant.

In the past year or so I have lost count of all the times random men on the street have come up to  me asking questions they have no business asking. If I'm single? Where I'm from? If I'm Italian? If I can show them where to buy an umbrella? If I like pears (???) ?

Maybe they were not all sex traffickers as I generally assume. And mAYBE that one guy just really needed an umbrella. However: I still resent the fact that I should be open and willing to interact with any random man who sees me on the street and feels like talking to me. But this is a universal experience for women. We are expected to at least pretend to be happy to engage with strangers on the street. To be unwilling to do so can appear impolite or socially inept.  And the threat of appearing this way feels like its own kind of trap: and it functions as a means of controlling women's behaviour and responses.




When you grow up in white middle class suburban New Zealand it might be easy to think that you don't need feminism. And for most of my youth I wasn't astutely cognisant that there were any extra difficulties that came with being a woman. Perhaps it wasn't until I was 15 years old, and studying The Handmaid's Tale in English class, that I gained some clarity. In the same year, Elisabeth Fritzl was discovered after 24 years being kept as a prisoner in her father's basement. It was a big year for my personal & abrupt realisations about the mistreatment and abuse of women by men.

Over the last few years I have reflected more and more on womanhood and society. With every example or experience of misogyny, I felt that I could see connections, draw lines between apparently isolated events, like a map of the constellations. I imagined that every sexist comment or action by a man was made because he had witnessed a man do this before him. It's like, on one side of the world a man makes a sexist joke, and on the other side of the world, a woman is raped and murdered. (Haters will say these are unrelated.)

And it is true that women experience varying magnitudes of oppression depending on where they are in the world. Sometimes it feels selfish to complain about my own experiences when there are women in Saudi Arabia who aren't even allowed to go outside. In a world where female genital mutilation, child brides, male guardians, honour killings, etc, etc, exist, is it wrong to be dissatisfied with my own personal freedoms ?

But no matter where you are in the world, it is hard to be a women. Countless studies show gender discrimination in workplaces, wage disparities, societal stigma around periods / breast feeding /  female body hair / & so much more. And women are raped and murdered by men in every country in the world.

*

A few years ago I listened to a Ted Talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, called 'We should all be feminists'. Until I listening to this Ted Talk I had not heard feminism, its importance and its meaning, so aptly and perfectly described and summarised in a 30 minute speech. I remember clearly a part where she says she was first accused of being a feminist: 'I don't remember what this particular argument was about, but I remember that as I argued and argued, Okuloma looked at me and said, "You know, you're a feminist." It was not a compliment. I could tell from his tone, the same tone that you would use to say something like "You're a supporter of terrorism."'. 

With this, I recalled when I was first introduced to the concept feminism. I was too young at that time to understand it well, however, I do remember the implication that feminism was something for ugly women, who don't shave, and who cannot find a man to love them. Feminism was a negative word when I learned it. It felt like a warning, of something to avoid. I think that this was a ploy, to make feminism into something unattractive, it was as though to call yourself a feminist was to call yourself ugly and unlovable.

But as I got older I changed the way I thought about feminism. I realised; if I didn't support my own rights, who would? And the world changed too. Even over my own lifetime I have observed societal change in the realm of women's rights. But change happens frustratingly slowly. Sometimes I feel that I will be long dead by the time women have equal rights, if ever they do.



Recommended link:

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: We should all be feminists


Monday 20 January 2020

Reduce, Reuse, Resign yourself to the planet's inevitable demise


it has become impossible to remain unaware regarding the rapidly escalating climate emergency we are facing. even though Greta Thunberg is both better and younger than me i still feel like reflecting on this topic. over the last few years we have been reminded of things that we, as individuals, can do to lessen our environmental impact. however, it often feels that even the culmination of our individual efforts to recycle more can do little to offset the profound and substantial damage that has already occurred. 

while scientist's concern about climate change began during or before the 1950s, it has only taken about 70 years and some white people in Australia to lose their houses in a fire for global warming to truly become a hot topic that is impossible to ignore (although some people certainly try)




every day it feels wrong to continue life as usual, as if climate change is not upon us. yet every day i continue my life as usual. unfortunately, in the event that i don't imminently die in a climate change related fire / tsunami / meteorite strike reminiscent of the 1998 drama/sci-fi Deep Impact then i still need to have a job :/  

i am aware of the ways in which i can reduce the impact that i have on the environment, but is it enough? for as long as corporations & capitalism destroy the planet in exchange for profits my own efforts feel inconsequential. sometimes i feel like i should just lie down in the street and die like the elephant man as a means of reducing my carbon footprint. 

?should the responsibility to save the world fall to individuals while BP and Exxon or whatevr cause 90% of all climate emissions? while i do think the average consumer can make some changes which would be to the benefit of the environment, will these efforts really have a deep impact?

speaking of Deep Impact (1998) i remember first seeing parts of this movie as a young child. a deep & impactful exploration into the end of humanity via environmental cataclysm; it took me almost 20 years to find this movie again as all i had to go on was a vague and distant memory of Elijah Wood on a moped. this movie actually has nothing to do with climate change although it depicts an environmental emergency in which most of the population dies in a series of tsunamis while the world's 'elite' either seek refuge in a network of interconnecting caves constructed inside the earth or go to Mars or something.

i recall as a child seeing the final scene of the movie in which the movie's protagonist and her estranged father stand on an empty beach as the first tsunami approaches, accepting that death is inescapable. 

Saturday 28 September 2019

GOD IS DEAD: reconciliation of antediluvian convictions in a contemporary époque // the final boss battle


They say that you cannot separate the art from the artist, but what if the artist is God and the art is rampant sexual abuse?


A disclaimer:
I have some experience growing up under the influence of Catholicism. Over my lifetime I have gone from bible-basher (person who lives by the bible (sort of)) to actual bible-basher (person who beats up bibles). Consequently, I feel that this qualifies me to say whatever I want about religion, without having to accept criticism of any kind.

As a resolute atheist and natural skeptic, I have, since becoming devoutly anti-Catholic in 2010, become more and more consumed by my hate for all things religion. This hate was not only for the institution itself, but extended towards those who chose to uphold it. However, due to several recent epiphanies, I have begun to question this unwavering contempt, and instead: I want to understand. 

I want to understand religious people. Your average religious Joe, that is. Because while we all hate the Mother Teresas, and the Pope Benedict IIVIXCIs, and the [more modern powerful influential religious figures],, there are ..possibly.. many, many religious people out there who actually aren't hurting anyone. 

Unbridled rage and hatred is a young mans game, and I am a 26 year old woman. Through this blogpost I seek to understand how religious people (specifically: Catholics) are able to reconcile the abhorrent scandals & archaic worldview of the Catholic church with the rest of society,,, and: how I am able to reconcile the fact that Catholic people exist with my own personal peace. 


***

1. Catholic scandal

The Catholic Church is no stranger to scandal. We all know the unfortunate fates of the poor altar boys who suffered at the hands of depraved Catholic priests. Evidence suggests that these victims are predominantly boys between the ages of 11 and 14, but sometimes are as young as three years old. The Church has been e x p o s e d by countless accusations since the 1980s, but only garnered media attention from the 1990s onward, and investigations only began in the 2000s. 

To make matters even worse, Pope Francis has revealed in his (somewhat) recent tell-all that Catholic priests have been keeping nuns as sex slaves. Reports reveal that these nuns have suffered repeated instances of rape and in some cases have been forced by the priests to have abortions. 

It appears that, in the Catholic faith, one is considered a second class citizen if they are a boy under the age of 14 or a woman of any age. And yet, altar boys still exist (maybe?..haven't been to a church in a while so not sure?), and there are many woman out there in the world who voluntarily practice Catholicism.  

My question for all the practicing Catholics out  there: do you not consider your wife, your son, your sister/mother/neighbour's son/son's friend Timothy/daughter/illegitimate male child/grandmother/etc to be  h u m a n  people, deserving of bodily autonomy and the right to live life free from molestation??? ??

I guess what I'm wondering is: how does one, in 2019, justifying supporting an institution in which the old-rich-white-man archetype is ride or die, and everyone else is a casualty and a victim?


2. Catholic guilt

Obviously, priests-gone-wild raises many questions vis-a-vis the true morals of Catholicism. Premarital sex, abortion, homosexuality; all condemned by the church (not to mention paedophilia & rape which is condemned by everyone) and yet come into play as part of these not-so-recent revelations. To be Catholic is to deprive oneself of many kinds of personal freedoms, however, those enforcing the rules do not themselves abide by them. It is a total 'do as I say not as I do' situation.

And yet Catholics everywhere still appear to wish to follow these rules. It is my interpretation that these people may in fact be victims themselves.

Consider New Zealand's most lovable cult: Gloriavale. A devoutly Christian society in which all woman must work in the kitchen, all men must plow the fields, and everyone must have no less than 13 children. Although it is a totally sexist society I still believe that the men and women alike are all victims and servants to the only people who actually benefit from Gloriavale; aka those at the top: Neville Cooper the convicted child rapist (now deceased), and his gang of paedophiles. 

Just like in Gloriavale I believe that your average run-of-the-mill Catholic woman OR man is kind of a victim of their own beliefs. Sure, women have it worse as misogyny is part of the very essence of all religion, but there are many men out there who also live by these arbitrary and strict rules. Just like in Gloriavale, the only people who truly benefit from Catholicism are those at the top: Pope Francis and HIS gang of paedophiles. 

Knowing this, I question if my hate for Catholics is misplaced, and wonder if I could instead feel a modicum of compassion for them? They are the ones who suffer because of religion. And if they are not forcing their religious views onto anyone else, are they actually hurting anyone? 


3. Reconciliation

My biggest question regarding modern day Catholics is: how is anyone able to be a part of and support the Catholic church knowing that those who are large & in charge are;

1. not following their own rules, and;
2. actual paedophiles and rapists ?

I guess there must be some way in which Catholics are able to separate their own faith from the paedophilia, abuse, & sex slavery that the Catholic Church has come to know and love.

Currently there are 1.2 billion self-described Catholics worldwide. That is over half of all Christians. That is a lot of ppl willing to put their name on something that is inextricably linked with abuse and corruption.

I had previously assumed that if someone is OK with calling themselves Catholic, and attending Catholic Church, and going to anti-abortion rallies with their Catholic friends, then they must be OK with whatever is going on at the Vatican behind closed doors. Perhaps this isn't the case. I guess I may never understand the goings-on in someone's personal faith, and whatever personal deals they have with God or whatever: but I suppose if someone keeps their religion away from politics and other people's lives and accepts that if they are free to practice Catholicism then other people should be free to live without religious restraints, then maybe,, m a y b e,, m  a  y  b  e,,,, I  can live with that.


***

Thursday 26 July 2018

Pro-Life Protests: the joys of taking away a woman's right





I still remember the first time I was introduced to the concept of abortion.

I was like 10 years old. My family is Irish so we were attending this Irish Catholic church in Hamilton called St Patrick's or somethingggg. As we filed through the church foyer to enter the main building I caught sight of a small poster pinned to the church noticeboard. 

The poster featured a picture of a fully formed foetus, a close-up on its creepy face, and the caption 'Pls don't kill mE' (or something like that..). I remember thinking, kill? a baby? ??? Whatever this abortion business is, it must be BAD NEWZ. 

Fast forward 15 years. Reflecting on that moment, in the church atrium, I can now see, clear as day, how deliberately misleading and manipulating that poster was. Not only are abortions not performed on foetuses anywhere near as developed as the one on that poster, but foetuses actually! can't! talk!, so that caption was almost definitely not written by an actual foetus. 

((Which means that,,, some grown up adult man or woman,,, actually wrote that caption, from the point of view of a foetus, which is quite. creepy. actually. Especially because. They have no idea if that is even what the foetus would have wanted to say.))

Scrolling through RNZ today, I came across a news article about a pro-life protest that occurred yesterday in Wellington. waht. I thought to myself. Is this 2018 or 1818? Turns out, it was 1818. At least to some people. A pro-life group, Voice for Life, had put 13,285 pairs of knitted baby boots outside parliament to protest the number of abortions that occurred in New Zealand in 2017. The protesters were calling for tighter abortion laws, in wake of a push to make abortion more accessible in New Zealand following the abortion reform in Ireland earlier this year. 

The president of Voice for Life, Jacqui DeRuiter, lead the protest. She wanted to prove to parliament that more liberal abortion laws were not called for in New Zealand. In exchange for her proposed denial of healthcare to women she offers: more support for mothers. Whether Ms DeRuiters is offering to pay for everyone's medical bills and is opening an orphanage to take in every child of a women who was stripped of the human right of bodily autonomy is unclear, her archaic and offensive views, however, were not. 

Currently, under New Zealand's 4000 year old abortion law, women must obtain the permission of two certifying consultants to have an abortion, which must be justified under the Crimes Act. This costs the New Zealand taxpayer over $5 million per year in consultant fees, so I am genuinely s h o c k e d that Ms DeRuiters and the other members of Voice for Life are able to afford the wool for 13,285 knitted boots when they obviously love putting so much money towards robbing women of their rights. 

Perhaps even more shockingly; rape, age, and financial situation are not legal grounds for obtaining an abortion. The majority of abortions in New Zealand are granted on mental health grounds, and the average time it takes to get access to an abortion from the time of the first GP referral is 25 days. 

Despite my disdain and hatred for the pro-life movement, I manage to have a microgram of understanding. I still remember what it was like to be 10 years old and momentarily deceived by a church bulletin board. Churches are notorious for their general hatred of women, and unfortunately, still have a lot of sway over the opinions of the populous, even though God has basically been debunked by child poverty.

Encouragingly, nearly twice the amount of people attended yesterday's protest in order to protest the protest. And while I sadly believe that churches might be here to stay, I still have faith. I have faith that our out-dated laws will slowly change. Because like, if Ireland can do it, pretty sure anyone can do it..........  

Sunday 26 November 2017

Tale as Old as Time: The Mercilessness of Time and the Tragedy of Ageing




Have you ever wondered why there are such high rates of elder abuse at rest homes, but the rates of child abuse at the same rest homes are much lower? Or do you wonder why the enchanted mirror said Snow White was the fairest of them all even though Charlize Theron is a perfect 10? I'm sad to report that we,, as a society,, live in a society.

A society that  h a t e s  old people.

And I'm not just talking about people over the age of 100 here. Society's ageism applies to anyone who no longer fits into the youthful ideals of physical beauty. But ageism doesn't stop there. This situation is more similar to the Two-Pronged Attack Yu-Gi-Oh card than it is to literally anything else. Ageism is far more apparent for women than it is for men, which creates something of an ageism-sexism axis. 'Sexageism', or 'agesexism': two terms that I just now made up, pretty much describe the unfortunate fate of any woman who;

a) dares to be born, and:

b) has the n e r v e to grow older than age 35

I feel like I am exactly the perfect person to write about this. As a woman, I know what it is like to be a woman. And as a 24 year old, I know basically everything else. 

Studies show* that the older a person becomes, the less beautiful they are perceived by people in all age brackets. This is pretty aptly demonstrated in James Cameron's famous mockumentary, Titanic, where Rose, a beautiful young fire-starter, tragically ages 84 years, while in typical patriarchal form, the male character of the movie never ages, and stays young and beautiful (albeit dead) forever. In the distressing conclusion of the movie it is revealed that we, the viewers, were the old lady from Titanic all along. 

When I turned 24 I had the peculiar feeling that I was slightly older than I was when I was 23.  I got scared. I felt like Benjamin Button in reverse. I knew the end was nigh for me so I went straight to the Countdown skincare section and bought one of everything. I was determined to stay young. I wanted to be the real life Peter Pan. I refused to give the haters what I knew they wanted most of all: The opportunity to target me with their sexist, ageist ideologies, and cast me to the fringes of society, where I would live out the rest of my days knitting scarves to cover my hideous, ageing face. 

But in my quest to be forever young I had a realisation. In my efforts to evade the pressures of society, I had unwittingly done the very thing that society had been pressuring me to do. Somehow, by attempting to defy societal expectations, I had fully conformed to those expectations. I had been buying into --literally 'buying': skincare ain't cheap :''''( --  the idea that there is something wrong with the natural process of getting older. Is it possible that to truly disregard society, and oppose the ageism, I should instead embrace my ageing? Nobody knows!!!. But it takes an empowered woman to throw caution into the river, and age gracefully. And at the young and impressionable age I am at currently, I am just not ready to brave the callous world without multi-active anti-ageing facial serum. So for the next 10 years you can find me in the Countdown skincare section, crying into a face mask  :''''''''(


*probably

Thursday 17 August 2017

Why Must I Suffer in Endless and Unrelenting Torment Until I Eventually Die and Other Tales


Me @ My Childhood


Chapter 1. Why Was I Born?

At my previous job, about 5 months ago, I was standing at the bathroom sink: mentally preparing to go to the interview for my current job and attempting to brush my teeth with a wet wipe. Then, all at once, with the violent abruptness of a piano falling from the top of a 15 storey high-rise, I was wholly consumed with feelings of unadulterated misery and emotional disquiet.

"Jobs", or as I call them: ''Carpet-weavers, Morocco' imagined'  are something of a double edged sword. Yes, you need them in order to get that $cash money$, but seriously: at. what. cost.?

Trading in my precious youth at a job I hate just to make enough money to put food on the table for my future illegitimate child so that they can grow up to get their own job that they hate ???? It is a literal nightmare of unyielding proportions. 

Worse than the job itself, though, is the job interview - a shameless charade in which one must convince someone that they want to be hired for a job that they don't even want. Never do I feel more like I am selling my soul to 'The Man' than when I am citing my attention to detail and unabating dedication to the menial. It is a ceaseless cycle of despair, and one that I will be trapped in until my best years are behind me, and I'm more ""Grandmother Willow"" than I am ""Little Mermaid"". 

And so, at that moment, standing in that bathroom, I was struck by the question: truly, what is this hellish thing we call existence, and w h y must I be a part of it?


Chapter 2. Reflection

Sometimes, I reflect on my childhood: a joyous time when my future seemed as bright as the blinding white light of the sun - kind of like when you accidentally open the lid of a photocopier when it is still mid-scan and go blind for 6 minutes. A time when my life lay before me as a series of endless pathways, so plentiful were my opportunities, that I was afraid to choose one for the fear of choosing wrong. The world was my lobster back then, and I thought that was how it would always be. 

Tragically, however; time is a cruel and unforgiving mistress and I am her subservient whore. Gone are the naive plans and idealistic ambitions of my youth, buried forever in the field of dead hopes and dreams. 

I can only assume that I have done nothing wrong and that this is all entirely the fault of society. I recently read Frankenstein and discovered that the true monster was humanity all along. (But also Frankenstein's literal monster who was killing the townspeople and stealing huskies and etc.).

As much as all of this makes me want to revert to a pre-verbal level and live out my days in the hospital from Girl, Interrupted I feel that I must persevere. But only because I know that is what Julie Andrews would tell me to do.

So I sit at my desk, day after day, and stare out the window, fantasizing about the day when technology has advanced such that I can build a robot who is indistinguishable from myself and has no capacity to understand slave labour laws. She will masquerade as me at my job by day, and be my sex slave by night, and this will finally afford me enough time for leisure activities like reading gardening magazines in the sunshine (or something??). 

But until that day I have to go to my job myself, like a chump....... 

Thursday 8 September 2016

I've Been to the Year 2000




Tonight, as the clock struck midnight, I was watching a movie. In this movie, young Mark Ruffalo returns to his home town to borrow money from Laura Linney, hang out with his nephew, and generally just f*ck sh*t up. Now, anyone who has seen Mark Ruffalo's Instagram lately knows that he is looking pretty old. So I came to wonder, how is it that he looks so young in this movie; it was only made in 2000 after all.

But then I realised. 2000 was 16 years ago.

16 years ago. That's almost my entire life (kind of).

16 years ago I was 7 years old, the London Eye opened, and the PlayStation 2 was released for sale in Japan. 16 years ago Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was published and Tiger Woods became the youngest golfer to win a Grand Slam. 

It was a different world.

Someone told me ages ago, that the reason the years go by faster as we get older, is because each year is a smaller fraction of the life you've already lived. I can't imagine what it must be like to be 80; the years must pass by like seconds. 

I don't remember much about being 7. But I do think the years passed more slowly back then. Probably because I had no concept of time and nothing much changes from year to year when your schoolwork is colouring and learning to tell the time. I do remember this weird play I was in called Millennium Bugs though. 

I remember feeling so old when I was a child, thinking that I'd already squandered away my youth. But really I squandered away my youth thinking that I squandered away my youth. I'm squandering away my youth right now eating nectarines in my underwear at 3am looking at pictures of Marty McFly on Google Images. There is a lesson to be learned here, probably. 

I feel like when I'm 100 years old, and on my deathbed with only moments of life left, I will think back to all those little moments in my life; moments when I was bored, or miserable, or wasting time doing absolutely nothing of value - and be filled with regret at the fact that I spent them bored, or unhappy, or wasted them away. I will regret thinking that I was old when I was young. I will regret thinking that my life was hard when it was easy. I will regret that I wished moments of my life away when I'm old and want nothing more than the wasted time back. 

I'm just so afraid of one day looking into the mirror and seeing an old face staring back at me, and wondering how this old guy got into my house, and which retirement village he escaped from, and having to call the cops. 

You either die young or you grow old. It's a tragedy. Mark Ruffalo. Julie Andrews. Me. All subject to the mercilessness of time. I wish I could go back to when I was 7. One day I'll probably wish I could go back to right now, and stop writing this blog and do something more important like save the whales or adopt an orphan. Or maybe I'll just hope that when I'm 100 I have Dementia so that I don't have to remember this abject, wasted life.

Wednesday 20 April 2016

Everybody Hates Vegans




Apart from the stingray that killed Steve Irwin, animals are pretty much innocent.

Let's look at the facts; animals didn't murder JonBenét Ramsey, or David Bain's entire family. They didn't cause 9/11, or vote in John Key. What have animals ever done to you? (I know some people have been, like, bitten on the face by a dog or kicked by a horse, but bear with me while we look at the bigger picture).

Act II:

The Rain Forest. Planet eaRTH. Mother N A T U R E.

What do these things have in common?
The consumption of animal products of any kind is ultimately leading to their total destruction.

I've watched about an hour of Cowspiracy so am obviously an expert. And what did Cowspiracy show me (other than a guy who, with no apparent job other than looking at the Greenpeace website and secretly filming people, somehow affords a really nice house)?

  • Raising livestock produces more greenhouses gases than the emissions of the entire transportation sector
  • Agriculture (such as cattle grazing and the production of food crops) is the leading cause of deforestation - an acre of rain forest is cleared every second!
  • Raising animals for food is responsible for 30% of global water consumption, occupies 45% of the earth's land, and is the leading cause of; environment degradation, resource consumption, habitat destruction, ocean dead-zones, and species extinction

Don't get me wrong. I have done no additional research, nor have I considered anyone else's opinion other than Cowspiracy guy's. But when I learned these things I was pretty saddened. But what made me most saddened was the fact that I, along with many other people, were supporting the agricultural industry by consuming animals products and thereby creating the need for these things to keep happening. 

The true heroes? Vegans.

Vegans are literally the unsung superheroes of the present day (and I can say this because I'm not a vegan).

Yet people mock vegans relentlessly.

But why?

WHY??

They are trying to SAVE US.

Making fun of someone for being vegan is like making fun of someone for cleaning up oil spills on beaches or nursing sick old people back to health.

While the rest of the population is taking a literal axe to planet earth's literal back, vegans are tending to the wounds. But there are too many axes and not enough vegans.

And check out this comprehensive list of things we wouldn't have if it weren't for planet earth:

  • An inhabitable place to live
  • Existence of any kind
  • Julie Andrews

If the entire human population were vegan, there would be no more global warming, and the planet would last 1,000,000,000 light years longer, we would live forever, and all the bees would come back. I'm pretty sure I heard a scientist say that, no need to fact check.

The point of my writing this is not to convince everyone to become vegan (I have no where near enough faith in humanity for that - humans are b*tches), but to remind everyone that while you are enjoying your salami and your yoghurt, vegans are doing something to try to slow the world's eventual demise - maybe just long enough for another Adele album. 

Wednesday 30 March 2016

Bad Friday: The True Meaning of Easter


Do you have a moment to talk about JESUS ?


Everyone's heard of Easter. Everyone's heard of bunnies. But how many people have actually heard of tHE BIBLE???? 

Studies show that only 100% of the people surveyed had ever even heard of Christianity. So, for all of you ignoramuses out there, here is an excerpt from the holy book itself, to give you a little crash course in the origins of Easter.

__________

Ages ago, like 40 years ago, there was a guy called Jesus. Instead of getting a job like a normal 33 year old, Jesus spent most of his time spitting in the eyes of blind people and hanging out with his 12 friends. That's why Jesus had to live at home with his mum, Mary, and his dad, Morgan Freeman. 

Jesus hated fig trees so much. And his best friend was Judas Iscariot. They would do everything together; praying at the temple, washing the feet of prostitutes, and some freaky cult sh*t like drinking each other's blood. 

But one day their friendship took a rocky turn when Jesus tried to steal Judas' girlfriend, Mary Mandarin. Judas was so mad!!! He had Jesus crucified so that he would never do it again. 

Jesus was on the cross for 40 days and 40 nights. Then he was buried in a cave. Everyone thought Jesus was dead, but he was faking it!!!!!!!! !!!!! He was alive!!!!!! He came out of his cave after 3 days and went to find Mary Mandarin to profess his undying love. 

But when he saw Judas and Mary Mandarin together, and how happy they were, he knew that he could never be with her. And he died for real this time - of a broken heart. 

The End
___________


But so many people seem to forget this. In their minds, Good Friday and Easter Sunday are not the days that Jesus fake died and real died, respectively, but instead a day of eating chocolate and spending time with their loved ones.

IMHO it's pretty f*cked up that Jesus lovers worldwide celebrate his heartbreak and subsequent death by doing the very thing Jesus was never able to do; eat chocolate eggs. 

And I don't wanna get into Christmas but usually on someone's birthday THEY are the one who gets presents????? Not literally everyone else. 

If Jesus were alive today, I'm pretty sure he would be livid at the state of modern society. On top of which, when was the last time anyone actually gathered together to pray for and remember Jesus? 

I'm no expert. I only know everything about The Bible. And I know Jesus would not be cool with the fact that his birth and death now mark the dates for some of the biggest consumerist holidays.  

Jesus was cremated when he died, and the place his ashes were scattered is now the site of Disneyland Paris.

Monday 14 March 2016

How to Disappear off the Face of the Earth and Why You Should Try it This Season

Everyone loves a good mystery. That's why Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed grossed $400 in the Box Office. But although we see mystery portrayed in film time and time again, when was the last time you actually encountered a mystery in real life?

To properly construe my point, I have designed a short quiz to determine how much mystery is currently in your life.

Have you, or has anyone you know, ever:

a) been selected to track down an escaped mental patient, only to find that the missing patient was yourself? 

b) spent years battling amnesia and trying to track down the man who killed your wife with insulin, only to find that that man was yourself?

c) gone on a quest to find Mary Magdalene's tomb and discovered that it's under that triangle thing outside the Louvre, and that Mary Magdalene was yourself?

d) had anything remotely similar to the plot of Gone Girl happen to you?

If you answered 'no' to any of the above questions, then it sounds like it is a good time to enigma-up your life. There's no better time to start than right now immediately!!

Why Scooby and Velma never got together is the greatest mystery of all

The reason there are so many movies about mysteries, is that we, as an internation, have forgotten what it is to encounter a mystery for reals. And no wonder. We live in a world where it is near-impossible to be MIA, or AWOL, or DDR. We're all on the grid, like a giant game of Battleships. 

Thanks to Edward Norton leaking the contents of Obama's diary back in 2013, we know that we are being watched 24/7 by the NHS. Our every move is constantly monitored; when we are sleeping, or hanging out with our friends, even while using the internet to search for child porn.

To make matters worse, everyone uses social media these days, even (unfortunately) old people. Social media is just another means for 'Big Brother' to infiltrate our lives. Once you put something on the internet it's there forever, like herpes.  

Between us putting the information out there, and the government right clicking, and saving it to desktop, privacy is a thing of the past. It's like in the Lord of the Rings, how when Frodo puts on the ring the huge creepy eye of Sauron can see him, even though he's miles away in the forest hiding under his cloak that makes him look like a rock. And if I learned anything from Lord of the Rings, it's that you definitely don't want to be a Frodo. You want to be a Gandalf, or an Aragorn, or at the very least Elrond. You don't want to be Gollum either, but for different reasons. 

So how do you seize back your privacy and be the mystery you always dreamed of becoming? I have compiled a list of excellent tips to help you become a modern day Madeleine McCann. 

1. Start by deleting all of your social media accounts. This won't be easy, but it will be worth it. It takes 6 weeks to delete a Skype account, so start today!

2. Throw your phone into the river. Then throw your whole house into the river if you can.

3. Get one of those SIA wigs that obscure your face and wear it always.

4. Go to mountainous China and live out your days alone in a cave. You will need a fake passport for this so that there is no record of you leaving the country. When you get to China, set fire to the passport and scatter the ashes along the entire length of the Great Wall.

Bonus points if you: a) have extensive facial reconstructive surgery so that you are no longer recognisable, or b) successfully fake your own death. 

Godspeed, friends, on your journey to total privacy. I hope to never hear from you again.