righteous indignation!

So this is old and posted elsewhere, but I recently remembered I had this blog and felt it really could not be restated often enough. Warning, nerd rage to follow.

I have been sitting on this for a while, but I gotta say it.

Dudes. Why the fuck is Carol Danvers not in the Avengers movie? No, seriously. Why? She has this incredible back story, alien superpowers, snark, and so many issues. So. Very. Many. Issues.

I mean if you took all the man pain and awesome from Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor and rolled it up into a snarky blond in an awesome costume, WHO CAN FLY, you would have Ms Marvel. She has even been called “The House of Ideas premier heroine.”

She’s a patriot (Steve), a solider who fought for her country and no longer has a war (Steve as well). She is an on occasion  not so recovering alcoholic (Tony), she can be a arrogant pain in the ass (Hello Tony again, with a side of Nordic god). She has freaking alien/cosmic powers (Thor) and she even has daddy issues to thrown on top of everything else. And seriously? Who on the current roster does NOT have daddy issues? (Bruce, Thor and Tony, so very much Tony, I am looking at your remarkably toned asses right now. Though I’m sure Steve and Clint have their fair share as well.)

Why throw away a golden opportunity to mix shit up and finally have a Superhero movie featuring a female character? I mean, Marvel is pulling out all of the stops for their movie verse and with that kind of backing we could have one hell of a Ms Marvel movie. With, like, a budget and a decent script and like a director who is not total crap and massively incompetent! Because? Those would be the reasons all previous movies featuring a female character have tanked (Electra and *shudders* Catwoman). They failed at the box office NOT because it was a girl in the lead, but because they WERE CRAP MOVIES! Put some actual effort in and trust me, people will show up. I mean there was concern that Thor would tank cause he’s not a “name” hero and look. It did incredibly well, BECAUSE IT WAS A GOOD SCRIPT WITH AN AMAZING DIRECTOR AND PEOPLE WHO CAN ACT. This is all you need.

And seriously, the time to strike is now. We are living in a post Buffy world here, we are ready to watch a woman kick ass. Hell, we are craving ass kicking ladies right now. So come on Marvel! GIVE THEM TO US!!!

DC is wandering around in circles with a bucket on it’s head in regards to a Wonder Woman movie and the totally botched (and thankfully never to haunt my TV) show and um… That would be about it. So DO IT!!! SEIZE THE DAY!!!

Um… So I did not intend to get up on this here soap box, but here I am nonetheless. So while I’m here, Uh, I guess… Stay is school? Don’t smoke? Wear Sunscreen? I guess I’m done.

What The Hell???

So I just read in an article that apparently science fiction was invented on May first 1871. Cool I think as I read, though for some reason that date does not quite feel right to me. Seems a little late, but I shrug off my concerns and dive into the article beacuse as G. I. Joe has taught me, knowing is half the battle...


So I keep with the reading and am puzzled. See, I always thought that Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was the first science fiction novel ever written, at least in english. Mad scientist creates something horrible with work that pushes the boundaries of science as we know it and then pays the price for playing God. I mean seriously, it's the classic sci fi premise. Right? But no this article is all about some book called The Coming Race that was published that date and something else called the Battle of Dorking also saw the light of day.


Hmmmm.... I say to myself as I pause to digest this along with a Snickers before pushing forward with my reading. Then it all makes sense once I get to the second paragraph.


Cause apparently there is some debate as to if WHAT MARY SHELLEY WROTE IN 1818, FIFTY THREE FUCKING YEARS BEFORE THESE WORKS, ACTUALLY COUNTS!!!! What the hell? Frankenstein is sci fi, it was published, it became a HUGE FUCKING DEAL. How is that not the definitive birth of science fiction? Yeah two sci fi books were published on the same day way back in 1871 and I am not arguing that that is not a big deal, but how does that invalidate Mary Shelly's accomplishment of creating an entirely new genre of fiction?

I mean seriously, is it because if she's a girl it doesn't count? Cause that's what it's smelling like to me.
And of course let us not forget any of the sci fi books that were published in between, including the works of Jules Verne (Journey to the Center of the Earth, pub 1863) for fucks sake, that don't count either. Because apparently it's not officially the creation of anything unless the creator is white, male and creates it in english.

And now that I have vented the spleen I am going to go re read Frankenstein and also the Vor series by Lois McMasters Bujold and the books by Celia S. Friedman, because ya know what? Women write some damn good sci fi, fuck a woman created the freaking genre, and even if a huge hunk of the fandom won't acknowledge it still doesn't make it not true.

Snow is slowly eating my life and I find my only solace, the only weapon I have left to fight it’s encroaching freezing dampness, is- I shit you not, foodnetwork.com.

Seriously.

I am making my way through every pantry, cupboard, freezer, and fridge I have at my disposal, pulling out the baseline components of food and having the great oracle tell me what to fix. I haven’t done this since I was a kid, cooked my way to sanity. I gave up on trying to do domestic when I figured out that cooking was merely the Patriarchy’s way of controlling my womanly destiny and I would not be hindered by the yolk of their pearls and sweater sets. I was woman, hear me microwave a bag of popcorn. From hence forth I was the goddess of prepackaged reheated goodness and while on occasion I would lower my self to the depths of preparing an actual meal, it was only for special occasions and if I really loved you.

Now here I stand in the battered remains of my kitchen, barefoot no less, and I feel like I am rediscovering some lost part of myself. That maybe it’s okay to cook, that maybe it is not in fact yielding the high ground in the battle of the sexes if I know how to deglaze a pan. I can sauté and bake and broil and still be a mighty warrior of awesome and goddess of things other than fucking domesticity. Fuck, I even did my dishes in a timely manner. This so more than dinner my friends, this is... Actually I'm not quite sure what it is, but I will let you know as soon as I figure it out.

No Filter Ever: Fuck filters, what I really need is to go grocery shopping.

First really bad cancer joke.

Gallows humor is the way we cope, okay it’s the way I cope. I honestly don’t know if I am actually dealing with anything until I make that first really horrible joke. The one that as soon as it’s made it’s way past what little filter I have in play and out of my mouth makes me cringe even as I’m making it. I did it for my Aunt and Uncles death, I did it for 9-11, and I still haven’t managed to do it about my last dogs death.

I just did it the other day for life’s latest curve ball and I can’t tell you if that’s a good thing.


My mom has cancer. Lung canner. The cancer with the highest mortality rate, the one that’s notoriously difficult to treat, that one. I just found out less than a week ago, five days ago to be precise. She went into the hospital for something else that turned out to be very little in and of it’s self, but while she was there they found this. The big C of the L.

I’ve had a lot of reactions, Kubler Ross-ing my ass all over the board, though mostly I keep swinging my ass back to anger. People are pissing me off, mostly because my mom and her pack a day habit that may just have killed her is pissing me off, but I can’t yell and scream at the person with cancer, it’s bad form. So I’m angry with everyone and everything else around me. And since I work retail, there’s a lot to be angry at. Assholes abound, especially during the holidays, and I really count it as one in the win column every day I make it to the end of without screaming or taking a swing at someone. So far so good, though I still have to make it though Black Friday, so keep your fingers crossed. Anyway between the rage and the numb I haven’t really had time to process the new parameters of my reality. I mean it’s going to change a lot, maybe even everything, even if she makes it though this like she owned the breast cancer years before life’s about to go all sorts pear shaped. I was kinda worried that I’d not be able to do what has to be done, for her and for me, to get us through this.

Then I made my first really bad cancer joke. I mean it was bad, just horrible. Not only in poor taste but not that funny even, but the instant I said it I felt better. Like suddenly it all snapped into place and I knew I got this, that what ever comes it’s doable.

So yeah, first really bad cancer joke, honestly probably the first of many. Not the first I wanted for this blog post but it’s the one you’re getting. I guess firsts are not always going to be some awesome amazing adventure or new cats, sometimes it’s going to be something that is only a first because thus far you’ve been lucky enough to dodge the bullet up until it becomes one. Lets hope the rest of mine are better than this one.

No Filter Ever (factory defective since 1972)

- The joke was about me being able to take mom in a fight now that she has no wind. Yeah I know, lame and tasteless and yet still better to me than any soppy affirmations any day of the week.

And So It Begins

I have debated long and hard over what to write here. Toyed with and discarded several of what I am sure were brilliant concepts for my first Blog post for a variety of reasons. These reasons run the gamut from entirely reasonable and bug fuck insane. So in the end we’re just going to go with this.
Today I got a cat.
Wait! Before you run off to what I am sure is some much saner part of the internet please know that this is not going to be yet another cat lady blog about how miss Kitty is just so adorable and watch as she plays the piano and stuff. (Cats play the piano right? That is something they do, I think. Along with lurking in ceilings re writing the bible and eating chez burgers.) Other people pretty much have that market covered and probably do a much better job of it that I ever could. So no, this will not be a cat themed blog but the cat thing is significant and important. Or at least significant and important in No Filter Ever context sort of way, along with Misha Collins, Show Tunes and Bacon.
See thing is, I have never had a cat before. Not a one. Generally if I had to qualify myself as something or another it would be as a full on, hard core, Dog person. And yes that is a capitol D cause I think dogs are just that awesome. So to wake up one day and to now suddenly find myself sharing my life with a cat is kinda new experience. Which is sort of the point of this journal, blog, word vomit, experiment. I am going to try new things and then bitch endlessly about it to a cold heartless universe who does not care. Or you know, whoever might actually read this. So you know serial killers and Brit. (Hi Brit!). I am not fond of the new things as a general rule so along with the bitching there may even be a bit of personal growth on my part as I attempt to push past my boundaries and see what the world holds. Try not to hold is against me.
Anyway one long, confusing and slightly point less mission statement later here we stand. I don’t think I’m going to post frequently since I am both lazy and hate change but when I do summon the Herculean strength it’s going to take for me to get off the couch, turn off whatever is currently playing on the WB and do something new? You guys (and by You guys I mean Brit and the assorted serial killers) will be the first to hear me whine and complain about it at length.
Wish me luck.
No Filter Ever (Cause my ass is way to cheap to get one installed)