Sleep begins the turning process. What surprise shall we observe tonight? Apprehension meets foregone conclusion as my hands turn trembling page. Balance found in imbalance of life, the mighty of the day tremble beneath sheets of pure white. We soil them with our humanity as we sweat our pride from open pores. What does the box of dreams hold for me tonight…
I don’t need feminism because feminism obviously doesn’t need me. I was blacklisted apparently… all I did was show up with a plate of snickers… for hunger… because hunger makes you… Never mind.
I don’t need feminism because I am pretty aware of what I do and don’t have in life. I don’t need another group showing me one more thing to be unhappy about… or are you also handing out guns with a single bullet too?
I think women probably need feminism because if they don’t have something to complain about they begin to age strangely. It puts them off center. Women that are constantly arguing are far more beautiful to behold… some might even say exotic.
I think women need feminism because they finally realized those other “parties” they are forced to go to really are boring as hell. Tupperware party women? Really???… I would need feminism after one of those parties.
I think women need feminism because they have run out of ways to bond with their daughters. They decided “women’s rights” was a safe bet and decided to run with it. The aggressive side of feminism was simply a pleasant bonus of it all.
I don’t need feminism because I won’t feel guilty for what I haven’t done and what I don’t have. Entitlement? Some… but it wasn’t due to having a penis ladies. Sorry. Hardship? Had it and I saw far more “rides” being given to the ladies along the way. Get real.
I don’t need feminism because I don’t need to see your boobs. I only need to see my wife’s and possibly a strippers if I really feel the need. People have to go to medical school you know.
I don’t need feminism because I don’t need to see another lame movement. Can we all just accept the fact that everyone in society is out for themselves and start rowing our own damn boats for a change?
The Biggest Loser – I really can’t stand this show. I don’t care if it is inspirational to people to exercise or to lose weight, I personally find the show boring. Maybe if the contestants lived in an actual Gingerbread House they weren’t allowed to eat… that might be entertaining.
CSI – I really hate CSI and any show that is connected to it. The “detectives” are far too smart… do any of us believe the police are really that intelligent? “I smell sulfur… which clearly means the bullet was fired from a coke bottle through that window, hit that small pebble, and killed the woman. Case closed!” Most cops can’t even find a stolen, bright pink bike in the middle of the afternoon.
Sex in the City – I think I hate this show because everyone likes it so much. I think it is also remarkable how I am immediately labeled as sexist for NOT liking it. Ok… I am sexist.
True Blood – I had a “guy” friend that kept trying to get me to watch this show. First off, he is a former friend because that is just lame. I told you once I don’t like vampire flicks and from the previews this show is just another lame 90210 meets the world of flying beautiful people.
The Wiggles – If I never see the Wiggles again I will die happy.
Barney – I have often wondered what type of jackass goes up and punches mascots or people wearing costumes. Barney helps me to understand just a little bit what would drive someone to do such a thing…
Real Housewives of Anywhere – These shows are stupid as shit.
Real Mobster Wives??? – Since when did being married or divorced to a criminal make you the perfect candidate to have your own show? Not to mention most of these women on the show look and act hideous.
Caillou – I have a serious question. Why is Caillou bald? He is a healthy kid so he doesn’t have cancer… so what gives?
American Idol – Give it up! American Idol is now like turning on a radio station and having no clue what genre music is about to play.
I cannot see the light as I stare into the night. I stretch out my hand and rest it on a prayer. It flutters beneath the failing strength of my belief. Bottled hope is sold within buildings of sand and stone. Beacons of guidance that shine with splendor… blinding the very ones that approach on bended knee. Look up fool and see the god you kneel before.
I ignore the praise that is freely given. It clatters upon the cobbled courtyard and bounces oddly like fool’s gold. Value washes away with the tide, I lament the need for sorrow at its passing. Still, I care not.
Each morning I see you. We look deeply into each other’s eyes… the same damn eyes. We struggle, we accept, and we struggle again. The intensity of our bond causes the glass to melt. It forms small puddles upon the floor that reflect different images of my inner struggle. I stomp on them, but with each victory I am rewarded with more awareness of my failure. I weep my soul from my eyes. It falls like liquid glass even as it struggles to keep a single fingertip upon my queevering eyelash.