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La Principessa's Single Mother Comrade keeps sending me pictures of Alec Baldwin trolling Trump. At first I thought she was slipping into liberalism, but then I remembered she dumped Alec back in the early eighties for being insufficiently hip; now, I'm guessing, she's regretting it.
I hope you're wrong.
Speaking of which, I cancelled sexcation with La Principessa.
She talked a good, breathy game during the lead up, but when I told her I had the option of coming down a week early, she got all weepy and went on about she wasn't sure she could handle the "emotional murkiness" of doing it after we've broken up. I thought it made her sound like she was twenty-four instead of forty, but I didn't think saying "Grow up" was going to do me any good, so I said, "Well, let me know." She never did, so I unfriended her on Facebook and deleted her from my phone and filled my vacation up with communism. Of course, the following day she called, but she didn't say anything about sexcation (I'm guessing she doesn't even realize I'm on vaykay). Oh well.
Harboring revenge fantasies of taking up with a twenty-something next, just like her ex-husband did, but tbh, I think I go to bed too early to successfully date a millennial.
Comrade Anklebiter wrote:
...[B]ecause me and Mr. Comrade usually refer to the city of Lowell as the Weimar Republic of Lowell in honor of Mr. Comrade's unconventional, free-swinging sex life in said city.
Mr. Comrade recently was given the heave ho by his latest, hipster girlfriend, with whom he was quite smitten, and ran back to his transman lover, so I thought it would be a good time to finally show him Cabaret.
I hadn't seen it in quite a while; age and life do things to you, I guess, and I had quite a different reaction to Sally Bowles than I did the first time I watched it (probably late teens). It was summed up quite well, early on (first ten minutes?), when Mr. Comrade yelled at the screen, "Red flag! Red flag! Stay away, Michael York, red flag!" Now, if he would only take his own advice.
Mr. Comrade also saw through the love triangle right away and figured out that Max was also screwing Brian, which was a twist surprise to me first time I saw it, but I guess he's a bit more experienced than I was (am).
EDIT: Cabaret always gives La Principessa the guilts as it reminds her of the time she was in theater tech in high school and was responsible for unfurling a swastika banner during "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," much to the consternation of the heavily-Jewish residents of the Long Island town she grew up in.
Comrade Anklebiter wrote:
Independent Maoist-Inclined Red Historian Rival for La Principessa's Affections (Since Vanquished).
Although, he keeps dedicating articles to her. [Clenches fists unconsciously]
What happened at the UMass Feminist Club?
I came to the painful realization that I have become too old to date college women.*
The room was divided into three tables, each hosting its own discussion; one was one intersectionality, another on gender identity and presentation, the last on sexuality and media.
Mr. Comrade and I conferred afterwards and had the same experience: Twentyish Women's Studies major looked us dirty proles over and figured they had an easy mark and asked us a question or two and then looked uncomfortable when we answered correctly and then went on to reveal that we knew more about the subject than they did. Shouldn't be too smug about it, though; I've been reading on these topics since before they were born.
Not much came out of it, but I told Mr. Comrade that at least they'll recognize us next time we're peddling socialist newspapers on campus. In retrospect, though, I should have sent Young Autistic, Gay, Former Homeless Hustler Comrade in my place.
Oh yeah, there was also chocolate fondue.
*One fetching punk rock lass was giving me the eyes, but she looked like a child to me.
Parenthetically, at a wedding a couple of years ago I was introduced to a very fetching young woman who was working on her dissertation.
It was on, that's right, Georg Freidreich Wilhelm.
Last I heard she moved to the woods outside of Philadelphia and was living in a trailer with her cats and shotguns.
"Even some Democrats who participated in the effort to discredit the women acknowledge privately that today, when Mrs. Clinton and other women have pleaded with the authorities on college campuses and in workplaces to take any allegation of sexual assault and sexual harassment seriously, such a campaign to attack the women’s character would be unacceptable."
Sounds pretty traditionally subservient to me.
Comrade Anklebiter in an another thread wrote:
I only ever took one cultural anthropology course and I was stoned through most of it and the professor was gorgeous, but still: from what I recall, hunter-gatherer bands were, well, communist. I remember, in particular, with being impressed with something called "prestige avoidance," but the details are kind of hazy because, well, I spent the whole class high staring at the teacher's ass.
And it turns out she's union strong!
"'Our effort began with a simple but clear demand: Boston University should value teaching,' Laurie LaPorte, a lecturer in Anthropology at the College of Arts & Sciences, said in a statement. 'Corporatization in higher education is a growing concern here in Boston and across the country. With the support of our campus community, we’ve secured an agreement that begins to return the focus to what matters most – what happens in the classroom.'"
Woah. Went over to Facebook and the activist from Lawrence invited me to an event he is hosting...a follow up event on education...featuring...Ms. Berard!
In other news, one of my comrades from Worcester, Anarchist Nick, put out an EP on bandcamp. I haven't listened to it yet, but I will link it all the same:
I changed my FB profile picture to something distinctly more The-Big-Lebowski-ish and Ms. Berard "liked" it. She then changed her photo to something more sexy-ish and I "liked" it. I wonder if this is how cyberromances begin...
And if it is, I also wonder what La Principessa would do if she found out that I was dating yet another 39-year-old 8th-grade teacher who is estranged from her husband (who cries a lot?--at least, she cried when I saw her speak)?
David M Mallon wrote:
Speaking of talented celebrity crushes...
I had seen this news a couple of days ago and just now, when looking for it again, the first couple of articles referred to her not as St. Vincent or as Annie Clark, but as "Cara Delevingne's girlfriend" whom I had never heard of. I guess that's one more talented celebrity crush that will never go anywhere.
So...all last week was one pro-Hillary feminist after another making a fool of herself. Democracy Now! ran a couple of segments that would present a journalist from an obviously pro-Bernie publication against a pro-Hillary hack (Ellen Chelser of the Roosevelt Institute one day, Bertha Lewis of the Black Institute and NY Working Families Party the next) and the latter just pulling out every hackneyed Hillary talking point (and doing a bad job at it) and making me ill. And that was before Ms. Steinem's anti-feminist faux pas on Bill Maher's show and then the pronouncement of Madeleine "Special place in hell for scumbag imperialist war pig f$~~s who think a half million dead Iraqi babies are 'worth it'" Albright. Anyway, looks like Bernie took my fair state, so, it's time for another episode of...
Activist Friends (Acquaintances) of Comrade Anklebiter's In the News
Met Ms. Ropp at the Second Occupy New Hampshire General Assembly in Concord. Her husband, who claims he used to be a "yogic monk," works for the Quakers over at the American Friends Service Committee. Always was kind of sweet on her and was surprised when she denounced Mr. Comrade as a troll and told him to "f%+% off" after he asked some rather innocuous (I thought) questions about Bernie's history of working with the Democrats in Vermont to block third-party runs on a Facebook page. She later apologized for the "f$*& off" but doubled down on the "troll." She was friendly, though, at the protest outside the GOP debates.
Ms. Castillo runs every immigrant rights rally I've ever been to in New Hampshire. Last I heard about her, she and Mr. Comrade got into an argument on Facebook about the recent elections in Venezuela. Apparently, she had heard some bad things about Maduro from her maid. I trust you can imagine, dear reader, what Mr. Comrade made of that.
I tell Mr. Comrade he shouldn't spend so much time on Facebook, but his job at the steel plant has a lot of down time and he's got a smartphone, so...
I don't know the rest of them broads, not even the Hillary supporter quoting Chairman Mao.
Finished The City last night. Books have no come complete circle, with Cija back with her mother in the town from which it all started, with Zerd (who didn't appear in this book at all) coming back to reclaim his lost bride.
Anyway, book's all kindsa messed up. For example, when she finally comes face to face with her High Priest father, who wants to kill her because he's supposed to be celibate and not have children, it turns out that there's a loophole in the High Priest's code of celibacy.
Turns out he's allowed to have an alligator paramour.
Like I said, these books be all kindsa messed up.
Alas, La Principessa would do very nasty (nasty as in bad, not nasty as in good) things to me if I were polyamorous.
Freehold DM wrote:
Well, you'd better start doing your job, Freehold. She called me up last night, stoned, looking for phone sex.
Important Tip for Young Comrade Lovers
When your girlfriend sends you a bosom shot in her new steampunk dress she bought at ComiCon twenty minutes before a meeting, do NOT, repeat, do NOT wait until after the meeting to respond.
She'd probably still be ripshiznit, but, fortunately for me, another crisis has presented itself and my "inconsiderate smug asshol"ishness is no longer the topic of contention.
Off to Brooklyn, huzzah!, with copies of Jane Gaskell's The Dragon and Irish Fairy and Folk Tales by Yeats, which I scored off Comrade Curtin, for the bus ride. Huzzah, huzzah!
(Even more huzzah-worthy, La Principessa shyly informed me that, at thirty-eight years old, she has now purchased her SECOND outfit of skimpy, see-through, bedtime wear. Will we be watching the second season of Game of Thrones this weekend? I know not, but, HUZZAH!!!!)
It was the demise of Khal Drogo, that did it, actually. La Principessa really, um, gets into it when we do the KD/Dany scenes, so, you know, I started to identify with the barbaric, rapacious, horselord. I think I'm going to start putting bells in my hair.
"Indeed the same dark question often rose into her mind, with reference to the whole race of womanhood. Was existence worth accepting, even to the happiest among them? As concerned her own individual existence, she had long ago decided in the negative, and dismissed the point as settled. A tendency to speculation, though it may keep woman quiet, as it does man, yet makes her sad. She discerns, it may be, such a hopeless task before her. As a first step, the whole system of society is to be torn down, and built up anew. Then, the very nature of the opposite sex, or its long hereditary habit, which has become like nature, is to be essentially modified, before woman can be allowed to assume what seems a fair and suitable position. Finally, all other difficulties being obviated, woman cannot take advantage of these preliminary reforms, until she herself shall have undergone a still mightier change;..."
Spoilered for being less Women's-Liberation-Through-Socialist-Revolution!-ish but still pretty awesome
"...in which, perhaps, the ethereal essence, wherein she has her truest life, will be found to have evaporated. A woman never overcomes these problems by any exercise of thought. They are not to be solved, or only in one way. If her heart chance to come uppermost, they vanish. Thus, Hester Prynne, whose heart had lost its regular and healthy throb, wandered without a clew in the dark labyrinth of mind; now turned aside by an insurmountable precipice; now starting back from a deep chasm. There was wild and ghastly scenery all around her, and a home and comfort nowhere. At times, a fearful doubt strove to possess her soul, whether it were not better to send Pearl at once to heaven, and go herself to such futurity as Eternal Justice should provide."
Had an interesting conversation with the Nigerian Princess awhile ago that I have forgotten to write up until now:
I have no idea how it came up, but we were talking about catcalling, or street harassment if you prefer, and she said she was quite ambivalent about it. On the one hand, she said, when guys whistle at her or whatever, she gives them her "biznitchface." But, she added, as soon as they were gone she would smile because "You know, I must be looking good."
I told her that she had to stop sending mixed signals like that. "What do you mean?" she protested, "I don't send mixed signals, I glare at them."
"Yeah," I said, "but then you come back here and tell me and [Mr. Comrade] about it and then we go on the internet and tell everybody what you said. Stop perpetuating your own oppression, [Nigerian Princess]!"
Meanwhile, apparently, Mr. Comrade has been catcalled three times by black and/or brown girls since he has moved to Lowell.