I was feeling pretty smug about cheering myself up this morning by reading a wonderful article entitled “Golden State Warrior,” which centers around an interview with one of my – and I’m sure many, many others – new favorite people, the Honorable AG of CA, Xavier Becerra. The piece was very well written by Michelle Cottle, as a featured article in the May 2017 issue of The Atlantic. I especially appreciate the way she captured what I see in XB as an earnest desire to effect change for the BETTER, not just for change. And, of course, I love that he’s down to go a few rounds with that person sitting in President Obama’s office. Cheee huuuuu! I’d put money on that.
In fact, I was so pumped after reading Michelle’s article that I signed in so I could make a comment. And then I happened to glance at the existing comments and was unable to keep myself from reading said comments. And then, I just couldn’t help but respond. I know, I know. After I hit submit, I may have felt a little like Melania…but, of course, minus the revulsion and borderline nausea , “money” being swapped out for “energy” and Trump not being anywhere near me.
I think I’ve mentioned it somewhere, but if not, well, I grew up (and remain) in Hawaii and, I’m not gonna false-yank your chain and say it isn’t beautiful, but it sure is expensive and it sure is crowded.
And we’ve certainly got more than our fair per capita share of elitist attitudes, ignorance, and assholes…
but by and large, I lived a very sheltered, well-insulated (with love), life.
I mean, seriously like fairy-tale-ish in comparison, really….
I didn’t realize the depth and degree of discrimination and persecution that was still alive and unwell on the mainland. Sadly, my bubble burst shortly after I met the magic that is the WWW.
I was livid – and I mean LIVID. I was shaking and crying (mad cry, not estrogen cry) and probably had steam shooting out of my ears – the first time I was blind-sided by what I now refer to as a “Triple S” or “Small Syndrome Sufferer.” This ugly person crashed what is and was meant to be the best day of 2 of my dearest friends’ lives. They both happen to be hes and, apparently, Triple S didn’t approve.
That first time was very personal and I was very seriously ready to rumble, I was so disturbed by the filth that came out of him – Dude, I was looking for a flight out to nobokeswhere, Booniesville, where this little turd thought he was safe, that’s how not joking with that little fucktard I was. Hoooooo-eeee. There would’ve been some definite UFO sightings in the cornfields.
It took my 2 dear friends to talk me out of that tree or I would’ve jumped on that flight, found that turd under whichever rock he lived and demanded payment in skins (hey, this was early twenties energy).
I remember feeling a combination of outrage and helplessness blanketed in a haze of confusion because there was just a complete disconnect for me with the troll. I couldn’t get on a level with a person who could spew that kind of poison on people he didn’t know, never met, will likely never see in his lifetime, and who did not invite him to the site where they had posted a video to share their special day with those of us who couldn’t be there, the troll just happened to land there.
I can laugh at myself now, with all these years between me and that memory, especially because I distinctly remember repeatedly thinking – and saying out loud, occasionally, “How DARE he?!?!” I remember it as a very Blanche Devereaux type of over-the-top offended-ness… hahaha 🙂
Those feelings have not diminished in all these years – the bad ones, not the Blanche ones. I have (mostly) adjusted my reaction to them, but I don’t think I’ll ever even begin to understand what kind of person you have to be to not only generate, but to then arbitrarily dump that kind of toxic waste on and in this world.
And that, my friends, is something I will always be grateful I can’t do. Or be.
Amen to that.
XO – K