I have a problem when I get angry. The problem is that I’ve long ago learned – particularly in dealing with traditional publishers – to get depressed instead of letting myself go berserk. Mostly because when you’re dealing with publishers they’re not near enough to vent your berserker on, so you just end up hurting yourself. (Whoever said stress is the feeling you get when you can’t strangle someone who righteously deserves it was right on the money.)
Lately, I’ve been getting deeply, profoundly depressed, which is why I’ve been so silent. (Yes, post three on how to write short stories is on the way.)
So many things are winding up, it’s not even worth listing them all. The most proximal one, though, is the accusation against Kavanaugh, which, even if true, would not be in any way actionable nor, barring this behavior persisting into adulthood, mean anything about his character as a grown-up. High school has always been a weird and psychologically unstable part of anyone’s growing up years, partly because we’re all learning the ropes of what “adult” means, and partly because we’re isolated with other kids, also all learning the ropes. (It’s not the best system, no.)
But this nonsense with the accusations against Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh — which, by the way, not only doesn’t rise to “credible,” it’s barely past the level of “inane ramblings of crazy woman on the corner” — is being given credibility and the Senate is bending over backward to give that crazy woman the chance to ramble at them. Any way she wants to.
READ THIS.
Reblogging to read later.
Wow.
When Every Boy Is Guilty, Every Girl Becomes a Monster
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