On Fear and Silence
When I watched Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee, I felt her desire to be believed, and her fear that she wouldn’t be, as palpably as if it were my own.
It is my own.
I am afraid to tell this story. I’m afraid to put it out into the world and let others judge its seriousness and its veracity.
American Shithole #28 — Keeping Up with the Kavanaughs
“Boys will be boys,” some old, crusty bitches have said about drunk, teenage rapists — by the way, fuck you, conservative white women over 50. Seriously, fuck you. I want a new world order where you get assaulted at bridge club by wandering donkeys fed solely on Viagra.
Hey, donkeys on Viagra will be donkeys, you crusty fucking bitches.
When Ali, Casey, and I were in college down in central Illinois, we lived in this great place just a block off campus. It was situated at the top of a hill overlooking the town smack dab in the middle of Greek Row, snuggled between the Beta and SAE houses—a modest, three-bedroom house with a front porch and back patio, and yard that made it ideal for barbecues and other themed or not themed parties.