A Really Offensive Grammar Lesson

Something neat about the English language. Check out the below.

entire sentence spell wrong optical Illusion

Yes, it is true that human beings, being the adaptable creatures we are, can still decipher a message that is completely spelled wrong.

On the flip, we will also assume that anyone who sends us a message like that is drunk, stupid, having a stroke or all three. That’s just human nature.

I’m bringing this up because something happened in my hometown that has a lot of people up in arms this week. I’m not going to go into it because I don’t have an opinion either way. I mainly just lurked on Facebook, enjoying the drama like the cheap drama slut I am.

Well, mostly enjoying it. See, I consider myself a bit of an expert on internet arguing and there is one thing I’ve noticed about any person presenting an argument. It doesn’t matter how good their opinion is. If it’s riddled with incorrect word choices, spelling errors, caps lock and straw man logic, it immediately takes their opinion down thirty IQ points.

Now, if you’ve ever gotten a drunken message from me, you’ll probably notice I’m no stickler for spelling. Shit, some of the stuff I’ve written to you people is barely decipherable as the English language, but there is a difference between what I send privately and what I post in public.

I want people to at least respect my opinion, even if they don’t agree with it. The means not writing like an angry tween who never took Freshman English. So here are a few minor things that I think people should be aware of.

Your vs. You’re

The only time the sentence ‘Your an idiot” works if you remove the ‘an’ .

“Your idiot’, as in ‘your idiot brother,’ ‘your idiot dog,’ etc. Your indicates ownership. You’re is a contraction that means ‘you are” as in “you’re an idiot for using your wrong.” These two are not interchangeable.

On that note

There, Their, They’re

There has ‘here’ in it because it references a place, even if that place is a simple state of mind. As in, “there is no damn way people are going to listen to you if you write like a moron.” Their, meanwhile, is a possessive noun. “Their brain damage prevents them from forming coherent arguments”. Finally, they’re simply means “they are” The presence of an apostrophe indicates the omission of a letter, space or both. Same goes if it’s versus its.


Look, in the past, people have said that the use of caps lock indicates shouting or if you have a very forceful opinion. I disagree. I think the use of caps lock means that you’re too fucking stupid to be able to reach your pinky slightly over to turn caps lock off.

Capitalization should not be your trump card in your argument. Your trump card should be using intelligent words. If you want to stress a particular word, italicize it, underline it, just do something that indicates you know how to work HTML like any person not working in a glove factory.

Just say no to text speak

Personally, I hate it. I’m not a texter, or a tweeter, because I am not concise…and I have giant clumsy sausage fingers. I think text speak is killing the English language, one awful acronym at a time. Does it really take so much time to write ‘you’ that you must use ‘u’ instead? Is your that much of a hardship that ur is your only refuge? Let me put it in text speak so all you text speakers can understand.

If ur space is nt limat8td FSR, and u still use txt speak, u look like an idiot. Jst m .02

Just saying, the extra .00005 seconds you spent spelling out the words could have saved me two minutes of Googling to figure out what the fuck you’re talking about. Text speak is the holocaust of human language, which leads me to my next topic.

Recognize when you’re using straw man logic…and then don’t

Straw man logic occurs any time you pull your opponents words completely out of context, and then argue with a point they didn’t make. For example;

“So you think that this guy should go to jail for shooting his dog? Then you must be picketing at abortion clinics every weekend, because murder is wrong, right?”


“Any person who is ok with this guy shooting his dog; How would you feel if this was your dog….or your child?”

These are examples from both sides of this apparent hotbed issue in my hometown, just to prove I’m not biased against either group. Both appear to suck equally bad at the fine art of internet flame wars.

Straw man is nothing more than misdirection for idiots. While I usually dig misdirection, and would probably fuck David Blaine because of it, I do not like it in my arguments. Everyone recognizes straw man logic for what it is; a desperate attempt to compare a smaller issue to a bigger, inflammatory one when it just isn’t comparable. Straw man logic can and will undermine your entire argument…and ironically, makes me want to light you on fire.

Look people, arguing on the internet can be a lot of fun. There’s nothing like getting unfriended in bulk over an issue that you probably won’t give a shit about six months down the road. But if you’re going to argue, at least do it safely.

Practice safe grammar, or just go with abstinence.


Everyone’s Offended All The Time

easily offended

Is it just me, or is it starting to seem like everyone is offended all the time? People are offended by a Halloween costume based on Caitlyn Jenner. People are offended by the K-State marching band allegedly forming a penis during a performance. Everyone in the world is apparently offended by this video featuring the utterly adorable Nicole Arbour

You know the common thread that I find at the start of most “I’m offended” statements?

“Well, I’m not usually the kind of person who is easily offended, but this (nipple slip/drawing of a penis/cornrow hairstyle/possibly gay cartoon/insert ridiculous thing here) offends me.”

Based on my extensive studies of wearing a lab coat while watching YouTube videos, I can tell you that if you’ve ever started off a statement about something that offends you with “I’m not the kind of person who is easily offended but…” you are actually the kind of person who is easily offended. The fact that you feel the need to justify your opinion to people who might become offended by it indicates that you are already of a mindset that requires a proactive disclaimer because you know from past history that you are easily offended and social proof indicates others will be offended as well.

Don’t know if that last sentence was a bit too complicated, but breaking it down simply?

He who smelt it dealt it.

I’m easily offended. I’m absolutely easily offended. Hell, I’m writing an article about how offended I am that everyone is offended all the time. Social justice warriors offend the shit out of me, because they make it seem like I’m too dumb to think for myself.

Case in point? Video games. There was an issue called Gamergate awhile back that went way too far, with threats and doxing and all that other silly shit you find in online troll wars. And it all started because some people found video games misogynistic. The ladies featured in them were either fighting fuck toys (Lara Croft) or damsels in distress (Princess Peach) and people were offended.

Here’s the deal. I thought it was kind of stupid to be offended. I mean, look at the demographic of gamers. Men, ages 18 to 35. Of course you throw a bunch of chicks with big tits and pretty girls needing rescuing at them! I don’t call that misogyny. I call that good marketing. When you find an underserved niche in a market, you don’t get pissed and insult the people that came before you by bitching about it. You find a way to serve the underserved market.

It’s the basis of capitalism for Christ sakes.

Let me explain with the case of Nicole Arbour. In case you haven’t seen it, she did a video called “Dear Fat People.” Sure, the video was offensive, but it was also funny. I found Nicole endearing and amusing and wondered what the fuss was about.

Then, I looked at the comments. They were all from people who were pissed. They called Nicole names, talked about how offended they were, what a bitch she was, and got into ridiculous fights in the comments section with complete strangers over how offended they were.

And I had to say “we get it, you’re offended. But what are you hoping to accomplish by bitching about it?”

Do you want to get her page taken down because you’re personally offended? Ok, do that. But what happens next week when your favorite comic makes a joke about Vegans, and all the Vegans complain? What happens next month when people complain that Halloween offends them? What happens next year when someone at your work says they find a woman showing her hair offensive?

Censorship is a slippery slope and we can already see its effects. When I was a kid, my school had a Halloween parade every year, and we all wore our costumes while teachers would read us scary stories.

My kid’s Halloween party at school is now a ‘fall festival’ celebration where they go to school in their normal clothes, eat gluten free, soy based cookies, and color nice inoffensive pictures of fall leaves in harmless shades of muted orange and brown. No one is offended and everyone goes home miserable.

Because making sure no one is ever offended is a good way to ensure everyone has a terrible time.

Being offended is nothing more than a human reaction something that comes in exact opposition to your personal preferences. You can either choose to try to silence the offensive party or you can go on about your day and get over it, knowing that people won’t always agree and variety is what makes us interesting.

Now, I’m not the kind of person who is easily offended (see what I did there?), but when you try to silence others based on your own preferences, by demanding that everyone else follow your own very narrow world view, I find that offensive.

Based on the rules you’ve already set, that offensive thing must go away. So you offending me because you’re easily offended? Yeah, that needs to stop.

Now finish coloring your leaves.

Essa’s Hurricane Preparedness Checklist

So apparently Governor Scott decided to declare a state of emergency over “Hurricane” Erika.  Now, I could be a skeptic and claim that this cry for help, (over a relatively moderate tropical storm) is nothing more than misdirection designed to keep people from noticing that he just openly admitted that he lacked training regarding how to manage civil rights in open forums and town hall meetings. I could point out that he forced someone to step down without due process or proper, constitutionally granted, civil procedure, by using inappropriate backroom dealings and questionable ethics.

Gerald Bailey…cough… Gerald Bailey.


But I’m not. Instead, I’m going to pretend this ‘hurricane’ is the real deal and not a form of misdirection designed to get the population to look in another direction while he commits a relatively minor crime. In short, I am going to do just what his PR people want me to do and pretend I’m fucking dumb.

So here’s my hurricane preparedness checklist.

#1. Bleach

Look, no one in Florida knows why people recommend it. We don’t know why we buy it during a hurricane. We just do. Maybe we want our whites to be whiter than white when people identify our bodies. Either way, you need it. I don’t know why. You just do.

#2. A smashing hammer.

I know number two should be water, but like any intelligent person capable of rational thought, I know that I don’t need to buy water by the gallon. Simply stopping up my sinks and tubs, well after the electricity is dead, will allow me to drain a minimum of 32 gallons out of the tap.

The smashing hammer? Well that’s for smashing my way into my neighbor’s apartment, in order to drain their water from their taps as well.

#3. A stabbing knife.

So me and my kid tried to do the responsible thing. We set up a bag in the event that we were told to evacuate. Then, my mother showed up and she said “Evacuate? Fuck that! I want a new TV. We’re going looting.”

Have I mentioned recently how much ass my mother kicks?

So the Alrocs will not evacuate.  We will not back down to this ‘hurricane’. Instead, we will do like our Irish ancestors and use it as an opportunity to make money and get drunk.

And any good looter knows you need a stabbing knife. Guns just don’t work as well in a highly windy, salt water environment. Only a knife is a guarantee when you’re trying to steal a 32” plasma from your neighbor’s apartment.

#4. A highly cynical attitude

Look, governor Scott, your state of emergency means shit to me. As far as I’m concerned, it’s political miss-direction. You know when I start worrying about a hurricane? When the Keys people evacuate.

If you live in Florida, you understand. See, the Keys people are a special kind of people. They have this magical laid back gene that makes it nearly impossible for them to become upset about anything. They sit around, smoking weed, listening to Jimmy Buffet, and being chill under just about any circumstance. Much like the Zen Buddhists, they have reached a higher state of being. They have lived out hurricane, after hurricane, simply with the saying ‘just be cool, man. Be cool.”

I know a Keys guy who lived out Wilma by living off the water he collected outside and cooking hotdogs over a candle. When I asked why he didn’t just evacuate he said to me…

“But where would I bring my bong?”

Only when Keys people panic will I panic…and Keys people never panic, not even when our governor is trying to draw attention away from his inappropriate behavior by pulling the hurricane card. I’d listen to a middle-aged Key West, high as shit, openly gay, chicken hawk before I’d ever listen to a dude who spends like two months a year in his home state…at best.

#5. A Life lesson

Recently, my mother’s car battery died while we were at a gas station. A few months before, she’d had her rear tire replaced and while there, the people tried to upsell her on about 2k worth of car parts. Some of the parts were bullshit. Some of the parts were real.

One of the real parts was her battery.

Here’s the deal. She’d become so used to mechanics lying to her, that she took any suggestion with a grain of salt. When they told her the battery was broken, she didn’t listen. The mechanic became the boy who cried wolf.

Then her battery died.

That wasn’t her fault. She’d been lied to so much, over so many silly things, it became impossible for her to tell the real from the fake. Through no fault of her own, she suffered.

“Hurricane” Erika is the same damn thing, and it bothers me. It bothers me because so many politicians have used natural disasters as a form of misdirection that it’s impossible to take those warnings seriously anymore. We see a politician who doesn’t spend most of his time here spouting off nonsense about national emergencies and we don’t listen, because those politicians like to talk about national emergencies when their ratings are down.

Just look at what Sandy did for Obama.

Then shit like Katrina happens and we don’t take the order to evacuate seriously…because we’ve seen it before, and before it was nothing.

Natural disasters are not a political platform and they are not misdirection. They are serious and lots of people die. I expect my politicians to take them seriously too. It’s fucking disgusting to me that they would be willing to leverage human lives as an opportunity to pull ahead three percentage points.

But that’s the way things are. So I adapt. I don’t listen when Florida politicians tell me to evacuate. They don’t know me and they don’t know my Florida.

I listen when Florida lifers tell me to evacuate because those are the people that have the same intimate and unconditional love for Florida that I do. I respect them in a way I will never respect a politician, because they actually know Florida and they know when she’s about to turn on us, much like a drunk high-maintenance chick at 3 am. They know her and they know when to run. I’ll run when they do.

So God bless you my Keys and Panhandle people. Thanks for keeping it real.

The Pumpkin Agenda


What’s with all the pumpkin flavored crap coming out in August? Usually, I only have like two months of pumpkin to deal with.  But now, pumpkin is slipping its way into my coffee and my beer earlier and earlier.

Look, pumpkins are useless. They’re only relevant for about two weeks a year, and usually used as decorations. I mean, when was the last time you sat down to a hearty plate of raw pumpkin?  When have you ever seen anyone bite into a pumpkin like they would an apple? Never? There’s a reason for that.

Pumpkins are disgusting.

And don’t bring up pumpkin pie either, because you can accomplish the same results with sweet potatoes, and not have to spend four hours dismantling a 25 pound gourd, peeling it, cleaning it, cutting it, etc. Also, you can eat sweet potato pie any time of year and have the added benefit of not looking like a crazy person.

You see someone order pumpkin pie in July, it’s safe to assume they have some deep rooted childhood issues.

Even the ‘pumpkin spice’ you get doesn’t really taste like pumpkin. It tastes like the stuff people add to pumpkin so it won’t taste like wet cardboard. Pumpkin would not be remotely appealing if not for sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon.

I have a conspiracy theory about pumpkins. I think the whole ‘pumpkin flavor’ craze got started after some politician’s idiot child bought a pumpkin farm, thinking they’d only have to work like two weeks a year.

Then, they realized that the average household’s pumpkin needs came to less than one pumpkin per year. So the idiot kid went to daddy for help, and their dad snuck an addendum onto a bill he knew would pass. That sneaky addendum read;

“All popular franchises must find a way to incorporate pumpkin into their product for a period of no less than 8 calendar weeks per year.  Businesses that exceed the requirement will receive a 1 million dollar government grant for researching the use of pumpkin as a mind-altering substance.”

No joke, if pumpkin got you high, I’d eat like forty a month. But they don’t. They don’t get you high and they have no redeeming value. They don’t taste good. They’re expensive, cumbersome to carry, rot in like 15 minutes and carving one always makes it look like someone vomited marmalade all over your house.

I’m old school. I like my coffee to taste like coffee, and my beer to taste like beer. I don’t need the flavor of pumpkin to make me feel like it’s fall. I live in Florida. I know it’s fall the first time I’m forced to give directions to Disneyland to a European tourist that speaks broken English.

So to the people pushing the pumpkin agenda, I have three suggestions for increasing pumpkin sales.

  1. Make it the next trendy superfood, and market it to idiots with the promise that it will make you better looking, more energetic, or give you a nine inch penis. It worked for acai berries, coconut oil and kale. Why not let it work for pumpkin?
  2. Find a way to get high on pumpkin. There’s got to be a way to turn it into a smokable hallucinogen.
  3. Throw away all the pumpkins and plant a food people want to eat…like twinkes or skittles.

Look, I clearly know very little about farming. My closest experience to farming came when I tried to dig a hole to China in my back yard. I was so stupid in my late twenties.

But I do know what I like, and I don’t like pumpkin. So please stop trying to slip it into my food. I will not be swayed by your pumpkin agenda.

No… We’re Not Going to Argue Anymore

I recently took down my “responses to hate mail” page. When I first started blogging, I wasn’t familiar with online politics and I thought the whole ‘responses to hate mail page’ was funny. I was so proud of my ability to hurt a person’s feelings that I felt the need to show everyone how great I was at being a bitch and how easily I could make these people who emailed me look like morons. In short, I was an arrogant asshole who thought she knew everything. And like any know-it-all, I am making this video my change of perspective announcement.

Let me explain the reason I had to to respond in the first place. I have a hair trigger temper and I’m intensely paranoid. I think a few of the readers of this very page have been victims of that. While I might not show it, I am the kind of person who can become extremely angry even over the slightest slight and hold onto that for years.

So when someone emails me, harshly criticizing my writing (often times without reading the article) I get blindly furious. I have been in my share of online fights, that extended all the way from angry emails, to digging up personal info and posting it online, to website hacking.

It’s also part of my industry. While I don’t read my reviews, I know many other writers who do, and even get into arguments with people who don’t agree with them. Lots of reviewers don’t behave any better, using their online clout to attack authors that they think have crossed the line. While I never actually got involved in any of these fights, I’ve watched them from the sidelines, eating my virtual popcorn and saying “wow, these people are all idiots. I’m so much better and more professional than them. Don’t they understand that they’re arguing in circles?”

Somehow, I thought that by only attacking people who attacked my blog, and not my books, I was being a better, more professional writer.

Then I met Russ.

Well, I’m calling him Russ to protect his privacy. We’ve known each other since I released an article called “No, You Don’t Have PTSD. You’re Just Being a Pussy.”

Russ was one of those people who did that thing that irritates me. He read the title of the page without reading the article. Then, he posted about 400 comments on my page and sent me an angry email. I did nothing to diffuse him. I did the opposite. I got angry at him. I deleted his posts, responded to his email by signing off “I hope you get cancer” and wrote an angry blog post correcting his entire hate mail message.

Russ later apologized, agreed to disagree, and then moved on…for about 3 months. Then, I said something that set off his own hair-trigger temper again. He sent another angry email. I again got furious when I read it. He flooded my page with angry comments, using a bot system in order to change his IP repeatedly so he could continue posting without going to spam.

So I found his phone number and posted it on the NSA section of Craigslist with a request for cock pics. Again our fight ended with him apologizing. We both moved on…until a few months later, when something I said angered him again.

I have been playing out this cycle for three years now, with the most recent cycle being him gaining access to my Facebook account and posting a fuckton of messages spamming products like Viagra and adult diapers. Russ has followed me for years.  I should be angry and afraid of this man. He’s threatened me repeatedly, as well as threatened my family. He’s sent me emails in  graphic detail of what he’d do to me if we ever met.

I should be afraid of him, but I’m not. I’m not because I have to admit that as fixated on me as he is, I’ve become fixated on him.

There’s something about the thrill of knowing you’re about to get into a fight. There’s something about wanting to top the person you’re arguing with and make them look stupid, that’s kind of addictive. It becomes easy to make it into the focal point of your life. It becomes easy to make it into the sole reason that you write. You get positive reinforcement for it. Whenever I argue with an idiot online, whenever I post about hate mail, my page views and likes go through the roof. People love a train wreck. They love watching it, breaking out their virtual popcorn and saying “wow, these people are idiots. I’m so much better and more professional than them.”

Because the people watching, they didn’t care about who was wrong or who was right. By the time they reached me, that was impossible to tell. Nothing was in shades of gray. My reactions to Russ’s emails turned me from being the bullied, into the bully. But in my riotous indignation, I just felt superior.


The fact is, no one cares about the argument. The only one who really cares are you and the person you’re arguing with. In the end, everyone else is in it for the enjoyment of watching a train wreck. It’s why people loved “Jersey Shore” and every other copycat show that’s been created since. It’s human nature.


The last time Russ hacked my page, I posted his name, address and social security number on Facebook. Per usual, Russ sent me another apology email. But this time, I decided I was done with this love/hate stuff. No joke, the dude has been threatening me and following me for three years. This needed to end. If he needed an argument, I was more than willing to be his Huckleberry.

I'm your huckeberry

So I told him I was done with his bullshit apologies and asked one question I never asked before.

“Why do you keep bothering me?” I asked, expecting some kind of explanation of how I reminded him of his absentee mother or overbearing aunt.

“Because you keep responding.” His answer was simple. Stupidly simple. Turns out Russ is reasonably smart, but socially awkward. He felt invisible. Getting my responses kept him from feeling invisible. How I gave him attention didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad. He barely even read or acknowledged my responses. It was the fact that I responded at all that made him keep coming back.

I was arguing in circles, getting into a fight with a person I knew would never agree with me, because actually agreeing with me would defeat the purpose of the contact in the first place. By arguing with him, I created a connection that neither of us was willing to let go of.

I wasn’t willing to let it go because something inside of me needed to make this stranger, this person who I had never met, agree with me. Make him admit he was wrong, and I was right. Make him admit he was the bad person and I was the victim. But I certainly never behaved like a victim. There were many things I did to him that were far worse than what he did to me, simply because I’m more tech savvy. I knew I had the advantage and I used it. At the time, it made me feel strong.

But after talking to the dude, it makes me feel like the kind of asshole that would beat up a person in a wheelchair. I’m not stupid. I knew I was dealing with a person who was not at the same level of computer knowledge as me and I used it against him.

Why did I do it? Did his opinion really mean that much to me? Or was I so desperate for attention, even bad attention, that I was willing to engage in an online war that I knew would end badly?

I knew I wasn’t doing it to make peace. I knew we wouldn’t agree on anything. But there was something so enticing about the argument that I kept fighting anyway.

But through writing, through interacting with people, I’ve finally grown. I’ve realized that when you respond to a troll argument, you never win. You are never going to make these people agree with you, because they know from the second they send a message that they are never going to agree with you. This is not what they care about., They only care about the response. They only care about you emailing them to prove they are not invisible. It’s a game and they want you to play with them.

I’m not playing anymore. I don’t want the cheap publicity an online fight will bring. I’m not going to be desperate for you to agree with me. There is a very good chance that we will never agree. There is a very good chance that our opinions on everything differ even at the most basic level. This is not something I can change.

I’m not responding anymore. It’s not because I think I’m wrong, but because I need to believe that things are going to get better. I need to believe that people are interested in more than petty arguments and stupid squabbling. I need to believe I’m a little bit more than a bad car crash on the side of the road that you pull over to look at.

I can’t stop you from saying horrible things about me. I can’t control the way you react. But I can control the way I react to those reactions.

Words are words and the words you use have no power over me. Use them whenever you feel like. I have a delete button on my computer and my phone for a reason. There is nothing in the world forcing me to interact with you. Unless you physically threaten me in person, we have nothing left to talk about. We don’t agree and I can be cool with that. It’s the whole “if a tree falls in the woods”, thing.


If an asshole says something about you that you never read…did he really say it?

I’m going with no. Unless you’re actually, physically in my life, you don’t exist to me. I am not going to argue in circles. I am not going to give you the attention you seek. We can disagree and I can be cool with that.

So the responses to hate mail page is gone. The responses to anything are gone. I refuse to be the online equivalent of the Jersey Shore. I’m better than that and I’m smarter than that. I’m not a fad or a car crash. I’m just Essa and I’m cool with that.

Nothing about me needs to change. It’s only the way I’ve responded to dissenting opinions that does. Trust this; I now, and always will, think I’m right about everything. Essa on Everything remains an aristocracy, with me earning the title of “Dictator for Life.” Your comments will be approved should they pass my stringent quality control test of not pissing me off.

Email comments will go into my spam email address to be reviewed every six months or so, much like the system I already have in place for reviews…where I delete them without reading them because in  my opinion, life’s too damn short to spend it arguing over ‘the principle’.

Because my principle is this, taken from one of those 1980’s movies I love so deeply.

You want to hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I’m an easy target. Yeah, you’re right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you… but I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I’m not changing. I like… I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. Cause I’m the real article. What you see is what you get.

That’s all there is to it people. I’m Essa and what you see is what you get. That is the very last response to hatemail I’m ever going to make and the only one that matters.

Because I like me, and I don’t give a flying flippedy fuck about your opinion on the subject.

. .

Desperately Seeking Facebook Friends….And No, I’m Not Trying to Nail Your Husband

So I have a limited amount of Facebook friends. While my fan page does ok, my actual friend page is embarrassingly low. Most of my friends have at least upwards of 300 friends. My page has a pathetic 140 friends. While in real life, that number would be impressive, online the number is abysmally low. Like “smelly kid in class’ low.

So I did what any normal person would do. I went online and sent out at least 50 drunken Facebook friend requests to anyone who looked even vaguely familiar.  The results were mostly positive, with me reconnecting with many new (old) friends that I forgot even existed.

But it wasn’t all nice. Especially not nice was this message.

bitch facebook message

That response made me do a double-take, and then a triple take. I was shocked and offended at the same time. And it’s incredibly hard to shock or offend me. I get a lot of hate mail, after all. I actually write off the time spent responding to hate mail on my taxes, so I’m used to it. But this was so out of nowhere that it blew my friggen mind.

This person I friended was not a person I dated.  This was not anyone that I’ve had an ongoing flirtation with. This was a person that I went to school with, that I haven’t talked to in at least 15 years that I was like “hey, cool, he’s on Facebook. Maybe he wants to be friends? I shall send him a friend request.”

This was not “hey, this is my ex-boyfriend from high school and I’m lonely divorcee who wants to flirt with this guy I haven’t seen in twenty years.”  This is not a person I would consider fuckable even after my worst possible bender…and trust this, my benders are impressive. I once sent topless photos to the dude that plays Tyrion on Game of Thrones. There is just something about Peter Dinklage that gets me going.


Great, now his wife is probably going to send me an angry Facebook message.

But it was so upsetting, I decided to address the issue here. So crazy chick who emailed me? This one’s for you.

I’ve found that most women who think everyone is trying to fuck their husbands are married to dudes that no one wants to fuck in the first place. Meanwhile, the chicks who have utterly fuckable husbands are the first ones to say “OMG, you should friend my DH. He thinks your friggen hilarious!”

Insecurity breeds bad choices. When you’re not confident, you tend to settle for whoever will have you. So the fact that you’re a “WIFE’ does not impress me. Just about any girl could be a “WIFE” if she settled for whatever came along. You’re clearly insecure, so that tells me you’re the kind of person who settles for the human equivalent of the rotten potato that is always buried under the good potatoes in the produce section.

Just to clarify, your email tells me;

  1. You’re incredibly insecure
  2. Your husband is very likely that rotten tuber that no one wanted anyway.

So to the lady who emailed me, thanks for being a cunt. I’m sure your husband is incredibly happy that he married a shrew that goes through his Facebook friend requests to ensure that no one attractive gets through. I’m sure you guys will be very happy together…until you wind up on an episode of divorce court.

I’ll watch that episode with glee, but I’ll never again send a friend request to your husband, though it will be hard to resist. I mean, who could resist an overweight middle aged day laborer with a drinking problem?

On the flip, if you’re a normal chick, or the husband of a secure woman who does not feel the need to send offensive messages to Facebook strangers, I welcome your friend request. Rest assured, I will make every effort to resist the urge to try to have sex with you or your significant other. You can find me here.


Or You Could Try Not Being a Dick

Check out the below eye roll inducing video.

For those who don’t want to watch, some Texas idiot decided based on his extensive legal expertise of…well, not being a lawyer, that’s for damn sure, he was going to a disobey a lawful order and got his window smashed in for the trouble. It amazes me how many people I see trying to get out of a speeding ticket or other minor charge by offering some kind of ‘loophole’ legal argument. Here are some of the most idiotic ones I’ve heard.

  • If I ask an undercover cop if he’s a cop, he has to say yes
  • I’m never required to give ID
  • I don’t have to talk to the cops at all, because of the 5th amendment
  • If they don’t read you your Miranda Rights at the time of the arrest, it’s a get out of jail free card

I don’t know how these fallacies get spread. Maybe it’s movies, maybe it’s the magic of the internet, but in reality, if there is a loophole to be found in your case, don’t play street side lawyer. Let your real lawyer handle it.

Otherwise, like the above guy, you’re probably going to fuck it up royally.

You really want to walk away from a potential arrest, here’s an idea and you won’t have to pull legal research on off of some shitty internet forum.

Try not being a dick. That’s it. Just not being a complete dick works about 99% of the time. Let me give you an example.

Officer: So the reason I pulled you over is because you were going 95 in a 60 while snorting coke off an underage hooker’s ass, and also, a bunch of AK-47s fell out of your trunk. May I have your license and registration?

Wrong Response

I don’t have to say anything or give you anything, because of the 5th amendment and this isn’t Nazi Germany, and you’re worse than Hitler. I saw on Law & Order that before you pulled me over you were required identify yourself as a police officer, and you were waiting on the side of the road and that’s entrapment and… is that a Taser? Wait! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTT…AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Right Response

Here you go (smart person hands cop their identifying credentials and then SHUTS THE FUCK UP. Cop returns with paperwork and decides to let driver off with a warning)

Hey, I’m in Florida. If everyone in this state who drives around with illegal firearms, with underage hookers, while high on drugs was arrested, there’d be no room in the prisons.

Not being a dick is an arrest defense that has worked time and time again. It works whether you’re a man or a woman, whether you’re black or white. It works because it keeps a bad situation from escalating.

Sure, you might still get arrested, or a ticket, but if you pull the “I’m a street side lawyer and I’m going to be a condescending dick” routine, you’ve just given the cop more reason to want to see you in prison. However, not being a dick gives you the possibility of getting let off with a warning.

The time to use loopholes is not at the time of your arrest. It’s when your case goes to court. Lawyers are experts at loopholes because they get their info from places other than the internet and crime shows. Help them help you by not being a dick.