In Response...

Or How Stinky Managed to Keep Me Up Later than I Had Planned.

I was reading a friend's post about jerks reducing a lovely young actress into so much meat that they can lust over (but never hope to ever touch) and the classless way they described her....attributes? Now once upon a time, I was an angry lil riot grrrl and loudly protested men-- I use the term loosely-- like them. The jerks, not my friend. Since that time, I've mellowed. Well, ok, I haven't mellowed all that much, but I have learned to pick my battles. Sometimes. Idiotic comments about the female form no longer have me up at arms, screaming "My eyes are up here!" anymore. Most of that just rolls off my back now. Why? You can't change people. You can't make the morons see the light. You can only hope that the light is a fast moving train and they're too slow and/or dumb to move off the tracks.

I could rant and rave at the jerks, but what would that change? If anything, they've won by getting a rise out of me. I keep my comments to a minimum because it's a waste of my time, my breath, my energy. And, yes, I have had comments like that directed toward me, Stinky. I've met my share of scum. I've even hurt a few, but that's another story. Most of those men make their annonymous comments on a forum because they're too afraid of saying anything like that in real life. In real life, they feel powerless. Maybe emasculated. I can't be sure. I don't even really care. I've stopped wondering about men who so obviously hate women. I've even gotten out of such a friendship. The only thing to do is let them be small. I believe they hate themselves more than they hate anyone else.