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Monthly Archives: December 2010

Link around, version: Don’t you hate it when the (progressive) dog you trust bites you?

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We’ve been on a brief hiatus, as Very Serious Life Business has kept Paprika  and me Very Seriously Busy.


You know what else is Very Serious Business, readerati?

Fr rlz, a dude being accused of charged with rape. Indeed, the MSM and many a lefty dude agree, This Is Very Serious Business.

It’s a conspiracy! She was a radical feminist! Bitchez be lying! Rape accusations and charges are “hooey!” A nice/powerful/attractive to some/cool/funny/intelligent/lefty/freedom fighter JUST CAN’T BE A RAPIST!

No, seriously. Check out the ever awesome tastic Sady Fuckin’ Doyle over at Tigerbeatdown. And next, PLEASE go read Harriet’s fucking incredible take down at Fugitivus. In fact I won’t mind if you stop reading this right now to go read that.

And Amanda Marcotte at Pandagon. Oh, And Melissa and Co over at Shakesville.

Furthermore, shout outs to the various Jezebel posts on the wikileaks Julian Assangegate bullshit that is currently exploding all over the interwebs. Pursuit of Harpyness too.

And now. For those of you who just don’t feel like clicking through, a run down on the consensus that the feminist blogosphere has more or less reached–

1. Wikileaks may or may not be important work, many lefty types feel quite passionate about its importance. So.

2. Julian Assange is not Wikileaks. Wikileaks will shine on like the crazy diamond it is no matter what happens with these charges.

3. We all agree that we don’t know what we don’t know about these allegations. But we do know that if the allegations are true, they are straight up, unquestionable charges of rape. Not broken condom, not “sex by surprise” (which by the way, is a really stupid heinous rape joke, quite popular amongst misogynists, and has never been any part of law, thank fuck). Rape. For the Whoopi Goldbergs in the audience, rape-rape, if you will (I wish you wouldn’t).

4. We live in a worldwide rape culture, and the accusers in this case have faced the same kind of awful, awful shit that any rape victim of any powerful/famous man faces, and that is what we take Very Serious Issue with. There is no reason to go all “bitchez be lying!” toward these women because their alleged rapist is a high profile dude who is doing things that make some people very very happy, and some people very very upset.

5. It is not More Serious to be accused of rape than to actually be raped, so everyone needs to stop with the “bitchez by lying ALL THE TIME!” shit, and “But she wasn’t whatever my personal definition of a perfect victim is! LIES!”

6. Kieth Olberman and Michael Moore went and Fucked Right Up In Very Serious Ways.

7. Really, conspiracy theorists, if the CIA wanted to get him busted on something, they could definitely do better than rape charges. Which is to say, you people need to decide if the gubbmint is terrifyingly powerful and capable of knitting vasty conspiracies which keep us all in the dark about the aliens that shot JFK with Jimmy Hoffa’s future spine, or sort muddling and incompetent. One or the other, people, one or the other.

Why not child porn? Why not drugs? Why not, oh, I don’t know, since he’s already been in trouble for hacking, make it look like he stole a bunch of money from orphans. Rape, as we are seeing in real time, isn’t actually a very good way to secure a conviction or extradition. The fact that these allegations are being taken seriously because of who the accused is, in no way indicates that these charges are false. They might just be a fucking windfall for the people who hate the guy.

8. Oh yeah– this one is my favorite. If you don’t give a shit about ladyproblems like rape, if you think feminist issues aren’t real issues, or aren’t important issues, YOU AREN’T PROGRESSIVE.

That sums that up, I think.

Or, if it’s a case of tl;dr, then how about…

Oh, progressive left, I like to think of you like this:

Deep thinking! But Really, I just want to hug you. And believe that you will rescue me if I'm drowning!

But then this whole Assange rape allegations thing happened, and I remembered that you are really more like this:

No, this area is for lefty people (read dudes) only. Bitches fuck off. Thats right, you let me into your house and gave me noms and I AM REPAYING YOU WITH THIS.

Now, a very special message from me!

This is me, speaking some truth. Also, this is what you get when you google truthful owl

The sick sad truth is that rapists are more likely than not to be nice normal seeming dudes who people admire. The statistics bear this out, and this is why reported rapes result in very few convictions. Not because it’s a case of he said/she said. Oh no.  We don’t struggle with other crimes that are he said/she said like non sexual assault in the same way that we struggle with rape. Somehow, juries and judges are trusted to parse out the truth about muggings! And yet.

No, most rapes are treated as he said/lying bitch out to destroy him or crazy bitch out for revenge or irrational hysterical bitch or slutty bitch or just regrets how much of a whore she felt like afterwards bitch or shouldn’t have been wearing that or she invited him in bitch or she didnt fight hard enough bitch or she went to his place bitch or if she WAS wearing that it couldn’t have happened bitch or he is her boyfriend or he is her husband or it doesn’t happen to nice girls.

The discourse currently heating up the twine and can system of the internet right now about this high profile case? It is confirming all of the above.

Look, we have to cope with the complexity of things– rapists produce great art and literature, rapists are beloved philanthropists and revolutionaries, rapists are not slavering maniacs in the bushes. Rapists are, more often than not, just normal seeming dudes.

( Std feminist disclaimer: Yes, men and people on all points of the gender performance spectrum are survivors too, no it is not less serious than when rape happens to trans or ciswomen, yes trans and ciswomen can rape. However, perpetrators are overwhelmingly more likely to be men known to their victims. And victims are overwhelmingly more likely to be trans or ciswomen. And that is who we are having this post about, mmkay? Mmkay.)

Entitled dudes. Dudes who don’t probably think, and now I’m just going to rape someone. Dudes who probably like to imagine that they were just being alpha, just taking control of the situation, just acting like a MAN you know? She was sending signals, no matter what she said, or that she was crying or stiff as aboard or shaking. Dudes who think that they are good people, that it was really just her being irrational about things and on, and on, and on to the ends of the earth and the bowels of hell.

We have a deep desire to draw a bright line and never dirty our hands with the stuff of monsters who commit Very Serious Crimes like rape. Well, we on the left who, at least generally believe that rape can happen and that women are semi people. Sort of.

But then we just jump over into bizzarro backwards land where instead of saying “I may have been wrong about that fellow!” we stick our fingers into our ears, screw our eyes shut and scream “Bitchez be lying!! La La La La La!!!”


I don’t care that some people find Julian Assange neat. I don’t know that he is a rapist, but, I don’t know that he isn’t. So let’s trust the victims of this crime in the same way that we would trust someone who claimed they were mugged, shall we?

Now, go forth and donate to RAINN (matched donations until December 31st!) if you can, or get all tweety bird at Michael Moore via tigerbeatdown, or for the fuck of shit, the next time some asshat is puking rape apologia all over you, call them on it, if you can. Especially if they claim to be progressive or liberal or leftist.



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To which the only response is: 

100 Comments–1,500 hits! Now jam out with your can of spam out!

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OHAI! Thanks for reading and commenting, glittering readerati!

Also: WTF, People?

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Paprika’s Do’s and Don’t’s for Writing About Your Penis

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Pepper and I recently came across this article. It’s the worst article in the world.

And it’s terrible for a lot of reasons, but I’m going to focus on the writing itself, on account of the fact that this rambling inarticulate asspandadouchecanoeclown has published something that vaguely resembles poetry (but not really) with something called Muumuu House.

And also because I work at the Writing Center, which I genuinely enjoy, but which also requires that I gently instruct people on how to fix their shit writing without actually saying, “wow, this is total shit, yo.”

So. Brandon Scott Gorrell. Did you know that Pepper and I have decided to systematically bring you down from the blogging lectern of douche from which you currently pontificate?

Well, we have.

And this is my imagined Writing Center session with Brandon.

Paprika: Hi Brandon. You look like a giant douche, and it’s great to meet you. Please have a seat.

Brandon (disaffectedly): Ok.

Paprika: So what are you working on today?

Brandon: Uh, well, my publisher–they also published my book of poetry, Inane Ramblings of a Complete Fucking Asshat–thought I should have my newest article proofread or whatever. But I don’t need much, just confirmation that I’m totally super badass and that you would personally like to see my penis. It should only take a few minutes.

Paprika: Sounds great. What’s your article about?

Brandon: The compartmentalization of identity, and also, my penis.

Paprika: Ok, well, why don’t we start by having you read your paper aloud, so that you can have the pleasure of listening to your own voice and I can pretend I care.

Brandon: Sweet. Check this shit out: I think my girlfriend sees me as a person that is reasonably smart but to a limited, predictable capacity. For about the first two months of our relationship I perhaps had her fooled that I was deep and mysterious and the owner of some logical capacity so complex that the unpredictable creativity of my worldview appeared constantly referenced and proven by intensely meta or seemingly non sequitur-ish (but poignant) metaphors or ‘takes’ on the situation at hand.

Paprika: Huh.

Brandon: Pretty awesome, right?

Paprika: Well Brandon, I do have one question.

Brandon: Is it about my penis?

Paprika: Kind of. You know how some penises sort of, you know, curve?

Brandon: Yeah. You wanna know if mine curves?

Paprika: No, it’s just, you know what also curves?

Brandon: Other penises?

Paprika: Commas.

Brandon: I don’t like those. I don’t like separating my clauses from each other. I prefer to let them flow together, much the way my sperm flows from my–

Paprika: And also, to be perfectly honest, I kind of doubt your girlfriend ever thought you were–

Brandon: Of average intelligence? Yeah, I agree. I think I was selling myself a little short there.

Paprika: …Right. Do you want to continue with the paper?

Brandon: Sure! (continuing to read from espresso-stained recycled off-white page) But like all good things, this came to an end after some normal amount of time, probably as the result of a build-up of instances in which her logic simply defeated mine and I either responded by making something up that further implicated my logic as shortsighted and altogether full of disconnects or admitting defeat and unintentionally showing the shame I felt.

Paprika: Alright, Brandon. You remember how we were talking about commas?

Brandon (exasperated sigh): Yeah.

Paprika: Have you considered that adding commas would be tantamount to adding penises between your clauses? And that this could be a way to incorporate visual penile aids into your writing?

Brandon: Huh. That’s not a bad idea.

Paprika: Just something to consider. Carry on.

Brandon: (rambles on about his mighty mighty intellect versus his girlfriend’s pretty pastel ladybrain)

Paprika: (has a pleasant, refreshing nap)

Brandon: Another difference between how my girlfriend sees me and how my friends see me is that my girlfriend knows the size of my penis and other sexually-oriented information. As she has seen it from perhaps many angles and in many situations and environments, I think she is intimately familiar with the majority of aspects of my penis – it’s color, shape, size, regularities and irregularities. She also knows how long on average it takes me to achieve an orgasm over a wide variety of sexual acts, what my face looks like during sex, the sounds I make, which positions I’m used to, and how much sex I typically want to have (daily).

Paprika: Oh, fuck off, dude.

Brandon: (stares blankly)

Paprika: Seriously, why are so few people able to use the word “aspect” correctly?

Brandon: But–but what about my penis?

Paprika: Well, apparently it make you use the wrong form of “its.” “It is color, shape, size, regularities and irregularities”? What the fuck? Your penis is color?

Brandon: My penis is the world.

Paprika: And also, I kind of doubt that your girlfriend has studied your penis as if it were some kind of magic glitter pony carrying a basket of eggnog cupcakes with bourbon caramel cream cheese frosting.

Brandon: But it is. I mean, metaphorically anyway.

Paprika: No, it’s not, and dude, of course she’s “intimately familiar” with your penis. That comes with the sexin’ territory. So what, exactly, is your point?

Brandon: Uh, penis?

Paprika (audible sigh accompanied by massive fucking eyeroll): Ok, what else have you got?

Brandon: But friends have hardly any of this information, while probably having, at one point or another, wondered about the size of my penis or idly explored a curiosity about what my face looks like while I have sex. But as far as I can remember, there has not yet been an occasion in which my penis has been exposed to any of those I call friends. I don’t use public showers i.e. in gyms or swimming pools that require a membership and prefer not to piss openly in front of others (actually I can’t) so any penis ‘flashing’ my friends might have been subject to has been merely coincidental and unintentional and left unmentioned.

Paprika: Brandon?

Brandon: Yeah.

Paprika: I don’t think I can do this anymore.

Brandon: Wow! You sound just like my girlfriend!

Paprika: I just–

Brandon: Look, honey bunches of of penis envy, I know this is probably making you feel a little sad and, dare I say, inferior, but just listen a little longer, ok?

Paprika (reminding herself that this is her job, and damn it, she’s gonna do her job): Ok.

Brandon: I have not had sex with any of my friends (except maybe a few who were girlfriends at the time or who I had sex with in a sort or ‘trial period’ in which we were assessing whether our ‘thing’ would become longer-term) so unless an ex-girlfriend of mine has taken the time to describe my sexual behavior and mannerisms to a current friend, my friends remain clueless regarding this information as well. I do not foresee myself ever discussing with any friend, comfortably, the aesthetic aspects of my penis or things like my facial expressions during sex, any time in the future.

Paprika: (combusts)

Brandon: Ooh. I think I’ll write a poem about this.

Why I’m a Blogging Fail

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Computer: No hard drive detected!

Paprika: Dude, what?

Computer: Ha! Your life is gonna suck.

Paprika: Oh, fuck off. I’ll just replace you.

Checking account: Uh, no. No, you won’t.

Paprika: You’re an asshole.

Checking account: Yeah.

Paprika: No worries. I’ll just fill you back up with tip money.

Springs1 Clone: What, you mean MY money? Oh heavens no.

Paprika: Yeah but—

Springs1 Clone: Also, these fries are tragically subpar.

Paprika: Well, um.

Springs1 Clone:  Also, I want a margarita with Grand Marnier and no sweet and sour.

Paprika: You must be joking.

Homework Mountain: Hi!

Springs1 Clone:  You seem distracted. Are you high? And where’s my ranch, you asshole?

Homework Mountain: Hi!

Computer: Hi, Paprika’s homework! Man, isn’t complicating Paprika’s life fun?

Checking account: I know, right?

Homework Mountain: Hi!

Springs1 Clone: This soda isn’t nearly carbonated enough, and these pre-packed plastic cups of half-and-half should be fuller, and you deserve to be sexually harassed.

Boss at Restaurant: Hey, Paprika! I fucked up the schedule again! Just for you, lovey.

Paprika: God damn it. Why are you such a dick, anyway?

Boss’s Useless Floppy-Haired Son:  I’m too stoned to take tables tonight.

Paprika: I would like a cup of tea.

Empty Box of Tea: And what exactly makes you think I can help you with that?

Springs1 Clone: Hey, you know who wants tea? Me. I would like tea. I would like it microwaved, then poured over ice, because that makes no sense at all.

Homework Mountain: Hi!

Christmas Tree:  /falls over for no discernible reason

Paprika: Oh, fuck off, all of you.