Management regrets to inform you of the death of Mrs. Geoffrey Michael. Mrs. Michael died the way that she lived, which is to say, not at all. Mrs. Geoffrey Michael, just like Mrs. Kelly Hopkins, was a figment of the fevered imaginings of the patriarchy and men threatened by equality of the sexes.
Ms. Kelly Hopkins, we are happy to report, is still alive and well and still a feminist progressive working for a more just society for all. Except for those who would disregard her humanity. Those folks can go straight to hell with all the rest of the Trump voters.
Management would further like to note that all mail sent to the Hopkins-Michael household addressed to either the late/non-extant Mrs. Michael or Mrs. Hopkins will be immediately recycled without opening.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog posts.
Disclaimer: Geoff loathes this movie and book upon which it is based. That’s not why I am posting it here. That’s just a bonus. (Love you, sweetie.)
The scene above is important for one really major reason. For all of their ups and downs and crazy drama, Rhett no longer cares for Scarlett. At all. He doesn’t love her, he doesn’t hate her, he just doesn’t care.
This is probably where I should warn you that this post is about unpleasant things. Trauma, PTSD, abuse – a lot of stuff. Turn back here should you need to. Likewise, for a variety of reasons, what I’m going to write may be a bit opaque with oblique references. This is necessary. I apologize for the confusion.
Yes, Geoff is correct in the post that he just put up. It isn’t cold outside. At all. But I’m not talking about actual weather, I’m talking about that blasted song. I’m talking about that “Christmas Song” that’s commonly referred to now as “The Rapey Song.”
You know the one. Once you actually listen to the words you get uncomfortable each time you hear it. It’s a duet. It’s ostensibly about flirting, a date, and a storm.
I’ve been in a couple of situations lately I’ve witnessed the racial equivalent of Mansplaining. That is, Whitesplaining. In short, it’s when a white person explains to a non-white person how they should react to the use of a particular racially loaded term or epithet. It also happens when a white person explains how non-white people should react to said to said terminology in an all white group. In short, “this should offend you/them more or less than that” or, “that shouldn’t offend you/them at all.”
Today the Supreme Court decided to enshrine in law the idea that 1) if you are a rich, business owning, angry, ostensibly christian white man you are sexist special and 2) if you are a woman you’re not a real person. God forbid you be a person of color, non-Christian, and female, war has just been declared on you.
Coupled with the unanimous decision from last week that killed the 35-foot buffer zones around women’s clinics that provide abortion, among other services, I’m ashamed to be an American right now. Free speech, my ass.
Generally speaking, I am not a fan of popular culture, but on occasion I am pleasantly surprised by it. And on even more rare occasions, it shocks me. Not in a bad way, but in the way that you are shocked when you experience a true windfall.
That is how I feel about A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. The books AND the TV show that they inspired.
As you may have seen from Geoff’s post from the other day about Inappropriate Napping, we spent Thursday in New Hampshire with Geoff’s parents, sister, brother in law, and the kids. Before going out to dinner we went to a local gift shop aimed at the camping and antiquing tourists that come through the area. It was… an experience.