BY THE GARMENTS HE HATH ON

ANTI-BULLYING WEEK

17-21 NOVEMBER 2014

Let me get this bit over with.

IF YOU EVER HEAR ME UTTER THE WORD 'KARDASHIAN', TURN AWAY - I MAY HAVE SNEEZED.

That is not bullying. I merely illustrate the point that I am not here to discuss Kim's rear end: ironically, I can't be arsed. Thank you.

For a few days now, I've been brewing one up over this Shirt business. Just when I thought the battle was all in vain, and I was going to have to lay aside my spoon and spew forth bile and outrage whilst exhorting the Keyboard Warriors to Just Be Fucking Nice For A Change, It Doesn't Cost A Fucking Penny, You Irretrievably Myopic Slack-Jawed Learn-Nothing Want-Wits (breathe, Mu - that's the girl), Colin gave me a better idea. That is, it's still his idea. I'm just running away with it.

BULLYING FUCKING SUCKS.
Nothing else need be said. There is no excuse for bullying, ever. Never. Don't sit behind your computer and act like a c**t. If you wouldn't say it to someone's face, don't type it; and if you would say it to their face, then possibly you're a git. Do you want to be a git? No? Then be nice. Or shut the fuck up.

THE IMPORTANT BIT

Ok - smile! Here's Colin's idea.  It's his birthday tomorrow, Wednesday 19 November. He said this (see pic). He's a top bloke.

So to take part, all you have to do is post a pic of yourself in a crazy, colourful, gaudy or plain badass shirt on WED 19 NOVEMBER. I recommend posting it on the Facebook page  '10k for Dr Taylor'  with the following hashtags:
#Rosetta
#10kLikesForDrTaylor
#AntiBullying
#HappyBirthdayColin 
...I'm going to throw that last one in for good measure. You can add a link to this blog, too, if you like.


Don't forget Twitter and Instagram, and if you are able to make a charitable donation, please do so.
If anyone cares to give money in the name of anti-bullying, here are some links to anti-bullying charities.
www.bullying.co.uk
www.bulliesout.com
www.anti-bullyingalliance.org.uk
In the US: http://livedifferent.com

There are plenty of others. I am not endorsing these ones. Choose another if you like. I donated to one that supports families of LGBT victims of bullying earlier this year.

Now. Here is a photo of Dr Matt Taylor, and a link to the real story he's been involved in, actually, bollocks to that, go to his wiki page instead, he's amazing. But it doesn't stop there, does it? I now find myself obliged to agree with everyone's favourite bumbling moptop Boris Fucking Johnson, who apparently said:
"There must be room in our world for eccentricity, even if it offends the prudes, and room for the vague other-worldliness that often goes with genius." 
Fuck's sake.

Finally, here is how I think his apology should have gone. And you know how I feel about opinions; I should be grateful that all of twenty-five people agreed with it. 
Presumably, everyone else thinks it's balls.

Now... Hand me a new spoon, Butler, for I must bite through it with vigour.

Live And Let Live. Grow and Let Grow. Something About Kissing.

Oh fuck me, I’ve come over all ranty again.

It’s Movember: the time of year when – first and foremost – the campaign to raise awareness of prostate/testicular cancer¹ gets its biggest slice of the attention-pie all year. That is, after all, what Movember is for, and I hope that actual fundraising takes place, besides all the moustache baby-steps and hirsute guffaws. I’m all for it. Anything that makes a difference; bonds men together; makes people happy and adds fur to faces – those are all boxes to be ticked in my opinion (woo – there’s that word again, Mu’s favourite). After all, I am heavily involved in the Bearding Community and I have seen first-hand the good that Beard Clubs do, not just in raising funds for charities but right down on a personal level. Beards Help Their Brothers.

 

Some lovely Bearded Gentlemen. The Wessex Beardsmen, in fact.

Naturally, SocMed fills up with the usual memes relating to moustache growth; beards; shaving; not shaving; the superior ability of the one faction to ‘get pussy’ compared to the propensity for the other faction to actually have one, or be one, or something equally droll. These are met with laughter and/or derision, depending on the point of view – nay, the OPINION – of the other users. 

A new one this year was along the lines of (um), “She Says She’s Doing No-Shave November – She Better Get Ready For No-‘D’ December”. I’m not posting the meme here, for fuck’s sake, you’ve seen it enough times. I gather the implications are

• ·        that the Girlfriend of the Male in question is planning to stop shaving one or more body areas from which she is habitually inclined to undertake hair removal;

• ·        the Male is repulsed by the prospect of the Girlfriend acquiring a month’s worth of hair growth in said areas;

• ·        the Male proposes, presumably as an intended punishment, withholding sexual intercourse (the “D”, if you will) for the month following

It is unclear whether the Male intends to continue engaging in intimate acts with the Girlfriend during the month of November, nor is it clear whether the Girlfriend will revert to her usual state of depilatory satisfaction in time for the apparent penance of ‘No-D December’.

I am struggling with the logic here. Surely the Male will punish himself twice:

 - firstly, by forcing himself to have to commit acts which, though normally pleasurable, will disgust him (but not her, presumably) because he is having to do them with a lady of a very slightly more hirsute appearance during November;

 - then, for the month following, by which time the Girlfriend has become smooth and therefore, to him, desirable once more, by declining to engage in said acts despite the offending follicles being made bare of their growth in accordance with his preference?

Entirely gratuitous Jimmy Niggles shot. What? My blog...

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Mu, you’re thinking, Stop over-thinking it. It’s just a meme, and not a very good one at that. Well! Clearly I am not the only one to over-think things. ‘Swhat the Internets is for! This meme appeared in a ‘Closed’ Facebook group where, it must be said, nearly² all of the members are of sound mind and sense of humour: warm, kind, tolerant, and always happy to laugh at the ridiculous. The passion which unites us is for The Beard, and we don’t seem to care whether it’s on a man or a lady: all are welcomed with love and respect. It’s great.

However, this meme proved divisive. Debates began. Insults were thrown. True colours showed. Members left. Others laughed. I won’t repeat any of it – it’s all filed under YHTBT³. But it got me thinking about Feminism. Again, not a debate I plan to open, but I will say this: it is possible to be a Feminist and still shave your legs. Not every woman – not every Feminist – sees hair removal as a symptom of male oppression. If you are happy with your reasons for shaving – or for not shaving – great. That’s all you need. I don’t care if your reason is ‘Because my boyfriend prefers it’: if that’s your choice, that’s fine with me.  Why does it even need to be ‘fine with me’? See previous blogs where OPINIONS are concerned! Stop reading! You don’t need to care what I think! I barely give a fuck myself! There are bigger issues to be tackled by the Feminist movement than the choice of body hair removal. But to the men who buy into this ‘No-D December’ nonsense⁴, ask yourselves a couple of questions:

• ·        Do you think women’s body hair is gross because your friends say so?

• ·        Or because you watch a lot of porn?

Photo: Nash.  Meme: Me.

• ·        Or are you so ungrateful that the woman who lies down beside you actually desires you (whatever state you may be in) that you can’t look past a bit of leg stubble or even a hairy armpit?

If your answer is yes to any of these, seriously, grow the fuck up. Grow the fuck up. Body hair is unimportant. What we do with it is unimportant. Don’t use it as a tool for oppression, a symbol of liberation, don’t use it as anything. Shave it; don’t shave it; do with it as it pleases you. Respect the right of others to do with theirs as it pleases them⁵.

You know, though… I got to thinking. Again. If I were a man, yeah,

and I was having sex with a lady, yeah,

and I found she had hairy armpits, yeah,

that would be kind of cool. It would be like finding a little mini-beard in a place I wasn’t expecting.

A mini-beard! Amazing!

Women are beautiful. Men are beautiful.

Do you know what’s really amazing? Kissing. There should be more kissing. There just should.

¹The Movember movement also supports men’s mental health. I approve this warmly. Love. Respect. Kindness. Compassion. Everyone. Women and Men.

²I say Nearly. Clearly one or two of them turned out to be misogynist pricks. Or maybe they were misunderstood; Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged. Thou Shalt Not Be A Keyboard Warrior. And all that shit

³You Had To Be There. That’s where it’s filed

⁴No, I know it’s not really a ‘thing’. But there are people out there who take memes more seriously than they should. For example, I’ve got a thousand words out of doing just that

⁵My own feminine horticultural arrangements remain, however, my business and mine alone. I will not be drawn on this⁶

⁶And no, I don’t mean it’s drawn on. Fuck’s sake. But you know, I do love a footnote

Your Opinion Matters. Wait - No It Doesn't. And Neither Does Mine

I was going to blog about this week: a lot has happened. But I’ll tell you all of that next time, because the following exchanges occurred this morning before I’d even got out of bed.

Yes. I'm in this.

I say ‘exchanges’; they weren’t. I told you last time, I don’t do social media spats. But, but, but. This is beginning in the middle. Let’s wind back a little bit.  Earlier this week, issue 242 of Skin Deep Tattoo Magazine went on sale. I admit I haven’t had cause to get all that excited about SDTM in the past, but now I have reason to be – and not just because I’m in it. Yes, I had a small tattoo somewhere private* as a result of youthful folly, but I never, ever dreamed I’d get another one, or that it would be huge, or that it would raise £2000 for charity, or that it would – oh, here it comes – end up as a five-page reader profile in a magazine. 

See? Told you

 I won’t say anything about the article – bloody go and buy a copy. It’s well worth the money and there’s a nice picture of my bum in it. Besides, you know, all the other cool tattoos and much-prettier girls. But – exposure… it has a circulation of fifty-odd thousand or something, so you never know what will come of it. Then, this morning, something did. One thing, definitely: I don’t know about the other two. It’s possible. I ended up with the feedback classic, the Shit Sandwich.

Layer one: Nice Gentleman, sent this. Charming words AND he liked some of my poems. What a lovely thing to say! Earns a deep curtsey from me, not to say a flutter of my fan. My actual fan. Seriously, Shup, people.

Layer two: hardly a Gentlemanly response to the image on the right, but if all opinions are valid, his is too**. As you know, I don’t respond to this kind of thing, but I did share it – quite objectively, I hope; with a hint of sarcasm, I admit.  A flood of comments followed – again, not a wave of support but plenty of feelings on both sides of the argument. Privately someone suggested I take a look at his profile and rip him to pieces. No. I just wouldn’t. It doesn’t matter. Again, as has happened before, I’ve reached a place in my life where this kind of thing doesn’t hurt. I wonder, though – does that actually make me a Condescending Witch? Oh, the irony…

And finally, Layer three: layer three is just delicious. Layer three is not a slice of Hovis 50/50. It’s not even a complex handmade Seeded Batch. It’s a delicate, melting Brioche, lightly warmed between the thighs of a –

Well. Read it yourself. It was a private message, from a woman. Her permission to share it has been sought and obtained.

Have you read this far? Well done, you. Seriously, I'm impressed. Thank you. I check my blog stats: no fucker reads it. Ever. The only time they even glance at it is when there are pictures of tits and arse in it, and then the chances of them actually looking at the words are almost nil. So yes, I will continue to voice my opinion, safe in the knowledge that no-one will ever, ever know what it is.

Not really my opinion. Lighten up.

• Damien Hirst can't fucking paint. 
• Some people are beautiful, both inside and out. 
• Others, though, are just c*nts. 

Ignore this. My opinions are no more valid than the next fool's. See below.

Then kiss me, Motherfucker.

*I say ‘private’ – didn’t stop me getting it out at the the Great British Tattoo Show when a random individual asked to see it. Can’t believe I did that. Well… there’s a lot of nudity at these events. You stop worrying about it after a while. Still – tut, tut

**All opinions are NOT valid. Ever read ‘Have Your Say’ on the BBC website? For fuck’s sake.

Reflections of the Death of H.R. Giger

I was reflecting last night on some great artists who have died leaving the world a poorer place for their departing. Some of you reflected with me via Facebook - thanks guys, many tears shed, loved your clips. I was very touched.
But I got to thinking, who these days is writing like Adams*? Who's creating art like Giger? Who's singing like Freddie? (Clue: Cowell isn't going to be pulling one out of his ********* any time soon)
And I made this. You can share it, if you like. It contains a rare thing: a Mu-opinion. 

BE TALENTED LOUDLY! Be famous quietly. Kisses, Mu.

photo: © Stephen Moore

 *There's something else. About Douglas. And - 

No. Towel Day is coming up. I'll do it then.