Do you know what I’ve discovered? I’m finished! I’m screwed as a blogger! I can’t figure out a blog topic, and I have no more inspiration to pass along! I’m tapped out! I’m all clogged up. I’m three days late in posting a blog because my brain is fried and I could just scream! Oh God, I am undone!
Cartoonist: Michael Trent Martin | www.strangecomics.com
My husband (WW) has been out of town all week. I thought this would be the perfect time to get a lot of writing done. Instead, I’ve been sitting in one spot, disheveled, unwashed (be happy this is not “smell-a-blog”), and in sweats for three days with abandoned cups of coffee, discarded Jelly Belly bags, empty microwave popcorn bags, and wrappers of Dove chocolate scattered here, there, and everywhere. I’m sitting amidst the junk food carnage like Job of the Bible when he felt God had forsaken him. My brain has turned to mush. It is in this state that my husband found me when he returned from his business trip.
WW: “So, suffice it to say, you haven’t gotten much writing done?”
WW: “That bad, huh? Is this what a caffeine-chocolate-Jelly-Belly overdose looks like?”
ME: “I know this looks awful. I don’t know what happened to me. I was getting great reader traction on my earlier post about Paula Deen, and felt I’d generated some great comments about racism and forgiveness. But then she opened her mouth again and tried to justify her racism with a line from an old racist joke: ‘I is
what I is, and I’m not changing.’ Either she is stupid as a stump or she’s one clever bitch. You know why I’m pissed at Paula? Not because she used an inappropriate word, but because she sold us a brand of authenticity regarding who she was as part of the new South—open-armed, accepting of everyone, full of love and tolerance for all—with her only vice being butter. Now she’s using a racist joke to underscore that she was not at all as she portrayed herself to be!”
Used by Permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch
WW: “Well, nobody is exactly who they say they are, cutie—you know that. We’re all actors on a world stage trying not to lose control of the narrative that we think will keep us safe or help us get over on one another. I hate to ask this, but what old joke?”
ME: “You mean what old racist joke? The joke is ages old, but it’s clearly one Paula might have grown up with, and she allegedly admitted to engaging in these types of racist jokes in her workplace during the deposition. If I remember it correctly, it goes something like:
There was a black guy and a white guy, and they were debating over whether God was white.
The white guy said that there was only one way to find out and that was to pray.
So they both go up on a hill to pray and after sometime they hear a voice say: “I am what I am.”
The white guy jumps up from his knees and says: “Aha, I told you God was white.”
The black guy says: “What do you mean? That didn’t prove anything.”
“Yes it did,” said the white guy
“If God was black, he would have said, ‘I IS WHAT I IS!’”
WW: “Yeah, that’s not even funny, but I could see how racism might be a systemic issue in Paula Deen’s life if she engaged in jokes like that in the work place. It makes me wonder if she said those jokes in front of her black staff.”
ME: “I can’t even imagine someone saying that joke in front of me and surviving my wrath. Anyhow, she’s the least of my problems. Her brand is never going to be the same again. I hope that silly old woman enjoyed her entrenched moment in the sun of ‘I is what I is and I’m not changing,’ because it’s costing her the empire that butter built. Anyway, I have bigger fish to fry. Part of my depression is over the way SCOTUS gutted the Voting Rights Act of 1965. That was the Emancipation Proclamation of my generation. Didn’t the Supremes notice the wide-range voter suppression that took place during the presidential campaign? Are they blind to the struggles still afoot regarding voting equality? And who stuck roasted jalapeños up Justice Scalia’s ass? What the fuck caused him to say that preservation of the Voting Act (instrumental in ending the Jim Crow Era) perpetuates “racial entitlement”? Good googalimoo!
Used by Permission: Adam Zyglis, The Buffalo News|Cagle Cartoons
WW: “Well, you need to get out of your funk and find something inspiring to write about. Paula’s too old to change; racism is here to stay (at least for a while), because you can’t legislate attitudes and hearts. It is also going to take more than a blog and a day to change the damage that SCOTUS has done against the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Besides, before I left, I thought you were going to write a simple, breezy post on the local massage parlors.”
ME: “Day spas . . . day spas—not massage parlors! The term “massage parlors” sounds so sleazy. I did all the research, but I don’t know . . . Did you know that I thought the worst massage I ever had was a “sugar massage” at a local froo-froo spa at the behest of a couple of co-workers. Turns out the word “massage” means different things to different people. I mean, I’m still pulling sugar out of my butt from that damn sugar massage and that was years ago. I didn’t know that the teenager that was my “therapist” was going to shoot sugar straight up my ass and call it a day—and she almost drowned me to boot! Also, apparently in California (because only in California would people be crazy enough to do shit like this) one can get a massage done by a tank full of snakes on your back. Oh, and get this: did you know that “happy endings” are legal in massage parlors in China? They call them: ‘hitting the airplane,’ ‘playing with little brother,’ and ‘visiting Miss Five.’ That’s why I’ve been stuck here in a daze for three days—to write about ‘hitting the airplane’ or not to ‘hit the airplane,’ that is the question.
Cox and Forkum |http://www.coxandforkum.com/
WW: “Or you could sit very still, detox from all that junk you’ve been eating, and think about your mission statement as a blogger—as inspired by Oprah: “to help people ask the big questions (with humor) about the hard situations in life.” So what stories did you find in the cesspool of the Internet while I was gone that will help you, and how can they help you ask the big question this week?
I am discovering that “authentic” blogging is really, really hard work—then again—what isn’t? It’s hard because in order to meet weekly or daily deadlines, one can so easily become trite and cynical, thereby producing a lot of crap. There is a certain filthiness attached to gleaning stories from the daily carnage of the world news in order to lend one’s opinion to the Titanic state of the human soul and ask the right questions that will steer us toward love, joy, grace, mercy, truth, and peace—or in other words—the face of God. It is so easy to fall into the pit of writing for the continued bump in numbers. It takes a consistent revisiting of one’s mission statement in order to sanitize oneself from the consequences of most human actions. When it becomes too much, I have to sit quietly in my garden and wait for the stories of the sacrificial lives of people like the Arizona 19 (the brave firemen who gave their lives to save those of their neighbors) to remind me that I am not just a blogger—I am a storyteller that wants to see beyond the stupidity and the cynicism in life. Knowing what celebrity has let her nip slip out of her dress while she posed on the red carpet in a $2,000 pair of Louboutin’s zippered heels doesn’t touch the unthinkable and the unbearable in our everyday lives.
I can do that. I just need to stay calm and carry on.
“I don’t want to go viral, I want to set hearts on fire.”― Coco J. Ginger
“My blog is a collection of answers people don’t want to hear to questions they didn’t ask.”― Sebastyne Young
“If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader.”—John Quincy Adams
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