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It's like someone I love has died, and millions of people not only caused it, but they're celebrating it. And I'm supposed to act normal.
I feel like I've failed my children. I feel hopeless.
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anybody paying attention saw the rise in conservatism among the youth over the last few years. the return of the r slur, modesty/ tradwife content, rampant fatphobia, misogynistic twitch streamers...the writing was on the wall
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"This is what Kamala did wrong and how she should gave run a better campaign" she did everything the exact opposite of what Hillary Clinton did and in the end it didn't fucking matter because our country hates women, you pretentious fuck.
Kamala and Biden and Hillary all had roughly the same goals. Two of them are women. Let's see how this goes.
You can smarmy yourself into righteousness all you want, but in the end, men just hate women, and lots of women also hate women, and here we are.
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the fact that so many people continue to back trump every year makes me nauseous. it doesn’t matter if he loses because too many fucking people have clearly become comfortable with and supportive of right wing extremism thanks to him. what do you mean you support fascism. what do you mean.
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I'm certain this is on Tumblr somewhere, but I haven't seen it around, so I'm sharing it myself
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Voters in Iowa have the opportunity to do something very funny here.
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I was shamed (by nobody important) for eating ice cream in the bath because it's the bathroom. As if germs aren't everywhere. As if I were eating on the toilet. Get a grip, that guy. I like bath snacks.
I read an AITA post a few weeks back about a woman who liked having snacks in the bath when she's had a long day (a result of residual trauma iirc - the bath was her safe space). Her brand new husband of three weeks, a man twice her age who had no job, made her pay all of his bills and do all housework, and spent all day every day gaming because he wanted to make it as a Twitch streamer, had always been fine with this; but, on the day in question, had whisked her bath snacks out of her hands as she was on her way to the bathroom and tried to bin them, telling her it was time to 'break her of that filthy habit in his home'. She told him if he ever actually paid anything towards the house she owns outright he might get a say, took her snacks back, and had her lovely bath. He was since giving her the silent treatment.
(Obviously the judgement was an avalanche of 'NTA and also he's abusing you', which she agreed with, and decided to kick him out, so happy ending.)
Anyway I told my husband about this and he was outraged. "I would never do that!" he told me, furious. "I would find it adorable if you had bath snacks!"
Since then, every time I try to have a bath (which I only do as a rare treat) after about ten minutes there has been an anxious scrabbling at the bathroom door.
"Elanor!" he says. "Do you have bath snacks? Do you need anything?"
My answer is irrelevant. He brings me wine and poptarts. Now I have bath snacks. I'm a bath snacks person. Last time he was literally sleeping on the sofa when I went for the bath. Somehow this still happened. I now have an eager bathroom butler. How did this happen. I have never been so decadent yet bewildered.
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It's been 84 years, but I finally made a ZR blog!
I found this on my drafts and one of these days, this will be finished. One of these days...
Anyway, you can follow me in my Main Blog (if you want)
(From left to right: Simon, Jody, my Runner Five, Sara, Jack, Sam)
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