Archive for the ‘What is wrong with people?’ Category

Here We Go Again

May 4th, 2011 by Suzanne | 1 Comment | Filed in Asshole idiots, other rants, What is wrong with people?

A headline in today’s Wall Street Journal promised an article that would explain the difference between women’s and men’s tears. Really? Why is this interesting or important? I wrote about something similar (possibly even the same; I don’t know since I didn’t read today’s article) back in January at BlogHer.

Perhaps I should not complain about an article I did not read, but I’m sick and tired of “news” and “studies” that trumpet the difference between males and females. What would be totally interesting and different would be some findings that show how men and women are similar. Since men and women are both human, I believe that we have a lot more in common than we have differences, and these “studies” are just ways to enforce gender stereotypes and discrimination.

It’s not that I think men and women are exactly the same. Our bodies work differently in some ways that might affect our health, behavior, and thought patterns. However, isn’t that true of individuals? Just because two people are women doesn’t mean their bodies function exactly like the other, that they enjoy the same things, and that they have the same values.

Focusing on differences doesn’t add value to our understanding of humanity without a counterbalancing look at how we are the similar. At the end of the day, we’re all human.

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Long Shorts with Pockets, Please

April 27th, 2011 by Suzanne | 5 Comments | Filed in Asshole idiots, Damn, evil, fashion Suzanne-style, other rants, random, What is wrong with people?

Dear Women’s Athletic Apparel Manufacturers:

I appreciate that you understand that women should be active and earn your livings by producing clothing to enable us ladies to engage in physical fitness. However, what is wrong with you? Most of you seem to produce clothing for men and women, and of course, the men’s gear is a jillion times better.

First off, almost all shorts made for men have pockets. You seem to understand that men carry shit with them – like keys and ID and money and music machines and maybe even inhalers or tissues – when they run. Guess what? Women need those items too! Especially asthmatic ones! Those little “key pockets” are nice for a key, but otherwise they are fucking bullshit. I need to carry my inhaler with me, just in case. Where shall I put it in your pocketless shorts?

This brings us to the length of shorts. Men’s shorts come in a variety of lengths, from the short running kind to straight legs that extend to their knees. Women’s shorts, on the other hand, come in two sizes: short and even shorter. It’s not just that I look atrocious in these items, although that is bad enough. The bigger problem is that my fat thighs do not appreciate the lack of fabric between them. Chafing. Fucking. Hurts. Sure, I could go out and buy a separate pair of somewhat longer spandex shorts to wear under the running shorts, but why not just make longer shorts? I don’t wear Spandex because I hate having anything too tight on while I am sweating, particularly in my cooter region.

Speaking of tight, why is every damn piece of clothing “semi-fitted?” I like to be able to breathe and let the air cool me down. I don’t need Dry-Fit or Dry-Weave or whatever fabric clinging to my sweaty body. Nor do I love that these “semi-fitted” shirts do not flatter my tummy bulge. I just want something nice and loose. Guess who has that option? Men! Can you please extend me the same courtesy?

Thanks for listening. I suspect that there are a lot of women out there with these issues. If you take up some variety in styles and add pockets, you might make some more money. It’s a win-win situation.

Sincerely,

Suzanne Reisman

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Evidence Be Damned

April 18th, 2011 by Suzanne | 8 Comments | Filed in Asshole idiots, Damn, other rants, What is wrong with people?

A few years ago, as I waited in a long line at the best falafel cart in New York City, I overheard the two men in front of me talking. As the cart and I were downtown, they were very Wall Street-y types. Man 1 said to Man 2 that his daughter wanted to cut her long hair and donate it to Locks of Love. (Locks of Love is a nonprofit organization that says that it donates hair to make wigs for low income children who are undergoing cancer treatment of whatever.) Man 2 said something that I can’t remember, and Man 1 told him that he found another place for his daughter because Locks of Love actually does not donate the hair it receives to make wigs for low income children, but rather sells it.

“Uh,” I interrupted. “I’m sorry to butt in, but did you just say that they do not donate the hair that people donate to them?”

“Yeah,” Man 1 said. ” I investigated their business model and discovered that they sell the hair they receive.”

Sometimes I kind of love crazy Wall Street-y types. Who else would read that kind of stuff? At any rate, the information upset me because my sister and a few of my friends had donated more than once to locks of Love, thinking they were helping people. Eons ago, a donor could even get a free cut at a nice salon if they donated their hair, but more recently, they had even paid to go to a nice place affiliated with Locks of Love to get a cut so they could help poor kids.

Since I generally don’t trust crazy Wall Street-y types, I looked up Locks of Love’s financial statements myself. There, plain as day, was the fact that Locks of Love derived the vast majority of its income by selling the hair that people donated. That money supported a lot of admin and other costs. And, of yeah, some wigs that they donated to low income kids.

I was furious. I called my sister and the other friends who had donated their hair and told them what was happening. Dana then found that Pantene had a hair donation program, and she used that the next time she donated her hair. We both felt better.

I bring this old story up now because someone on Facebook recently donated a lot of hair to Locks of Love. He was rightfully proud of helping a poor kid, except that of course, he didn’t help a poor kid. I debated whether I should comment and share my knowledge since, as is the case with many people I am “friends” with on Facebook, I don’t really know him and I also did not want to take away the good feeling that comes with doing something generous and kind.

So of course I left a comment. Within seconds, a woman told me that they only sell hair that they can’t otherwise use because it is too short or damaged. I wondered who bought it if it was unusable. She told me that hair can be used to absorb oil spills. Which it can, of course, and is very good at doing. However, that begs the question: if the organization was started to donate hair, should it not then donate hair to oil spills? And even if it is justifiable to sell the hair for other things so that it can raise money to support its actual mission, why is the amount of money they spend on wigs for poor kids a very small part of their operating budget?

No, no, no. No one wanted to hear it, so I dropped it. Just because the evidence is there that an organization does not operate efficiently or possibly even ethically (I think that they advertise that they use donated hair to make wigs for poor kids when they don’t is pretty misleading), does not mean that you should question what is going or try and find a place that does good work even better. In fact, how dare I even question them!

Thus I get to what is wrong with America today. God forbid evidence is out there that shows that a belief someone holds is not exactly accurate. Instead of re-evaluating what we “know,” we go ballistic and blame the evidence (and the person bearing the evidence) for questioning something in the first place. I give up. When does the next season of Jersey Shore begin?

Crazies and Writing Bugs

April 13th, 2011 by Suzanne | 1 Comment | Filed in bad puns, other rants, random, What is wrong with people?, writing

If blogs were part of a system of protective services, I would be reported for neglect. One thing that surprised me when I entered my MFA program in the fall of 2008 were how many students did not blog. I could not imagine not blogging. It was my daily writing exercise and my brain dump. I often got ideas for longer stories from my posts.

Yet, over two years later, I realize that it is hard to blog and write longer works at the same time. When it takes me almost a whole day to come up with one double-spaced page, it is hard for me to sit down and write a few more paragraphs. Plus, to be honest, nothing really interesting is going on. I run a lot, as I am preparing to participate in a half marathon in June. I also read the newspaper over breakfast and think mean thoughts. (Examples: “If Americans want to live in a third world country, who am I to stop them?” or “I hope the Republican fanatics get their way and ban private health insurance plans from offering abortion coverage so middle-class women will wake up and realize what it is already like for women who need a medical procedure and can’t get one because of money. Then maybe things will change.”) Then I read books about Warsaw in the 1920s and 1930s and compare things to today. It is fascinating to note that illegal abortions were rampant in those days (and that it is easier to get an illegal abortion in Poland today than it is to get a legal one in some places in the US).

I also realized that because many of our elected officials are batty, they probably are also rabid. It is the only logical explanation I can come up with for why so many horrendous policies are being proposed and passed. Rabies! Incidentally, I share my birthday Louis Pasteur, the man who invented the rabies vaccine. He also invented pasteurization. I always thought that was cool, although these days people hate life-saving vaccines and are convinced that pasteurization is unnecessary despite the fact that people used to die all the time from various illnesses and get sick from bacteria in milk. Strange days, I say.

See? Crazy, albeit typical, thoughts. Nothing worth writing about, but I will try and be more attentive to my blog. It’s what got me infected with the writing bug in the first place.

Louise Was Right

March 9th, 2011 by Suzanne | 10 Comments | Filed in Asshole idiots, evil, fuck, mortification, other rants, sadness, What is wrong with people?

Again, this is why I should not read the newspaper while eating breakfast. Vicious Assault Shakes Texas Town read the headline in The New York Times. “Students Among 18 Arrested in Gang Rape of 11-Year-Old.”

What’s enraging is that the headline is not the worst part of this story. The suspects range in age from middle school students to 27 years old. According to The Times:

Five suspects are students at Cleveland High School, including two members of the basketball team. Another is the 21-year-old son of a school board member. A few of the others have criminal records, from selling drugs to robbery and, in one case, manslaughter.

Of course, they made at least one video while raping the girl. Another student received a copy on her cellphone and showed it to her teacher. That’s when the town was shaken. As one woman told The Times, “It’s just destroyed our community. These boys have to live with this the rest of their lives.” (Emphasis mine.) Yes, her sympathy lies with the rapists. Oh those poor boys who hung out with grown men with criminal records and raped someone! They can’t go to school now.

Really, it isn’t their fault, others said. The girl was asking for it. She “dressed older than her age, wearing makeup and fashions more appropriate to a woman in her 20s. She would hang out with teenage boys at a playground.” The same woman wringing her hands about the boys’ future reminded readers that it was as much the girl’s mother’s fault as anyone’s. “Where was her mother? What was her mother thinking?”

What I would like to know is this: who the fuck raised these boys to think it is OK to hang out with older men, kidnap girls (or women, for that matter), and rape them? If the girl’s mother is a bad parent, what about the member of the school board whose 21 year old son participated in raping and videotaping? What about the parents of the middle school students who let their sons hang out with men in the same age group the girl seems to have spent time with?

Another woman said, “I really wish that this could end in a better light.” A BETTER LIGHT? Really? A person was fucking gang raped and she is worried that the incident end in a “better light?” What kind of light would be better? That we find out the girl actually hypnotized the boys and men and tricked them into raped her and videotaping it? WHAT THE FUCK?

I’m so angry I can’t sit still. Twenty years ago, the movie “Thelma and Louise” came out. In it, one woman is about to be raped outside a bar after dancing with a male patron and drinking with him. Her friend tells him to leave the woman alone, and when he tells her to fuck off, she shoots him. The movie hints that she was raped a long time ago in Texas and nothing happened to her rapist because “she asked for it.” I guess things still roll that way in Texas. Even if you are eleven.

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The Stupidest Thing I’ve Ever Done

March 3rd, 2011 by Suzanne | 3 Comments | Filed in Asshole idiots, Damn, fuck, mortification, What is wrong with people?

Last Thursday, I agreed to help my friend Dr. H move a few things into her new apartment. My role was to sit in her car to ensure that it was not towed while she ran upstairs to drop off various items. She is well aware of my utter hatred of driving in general, and my specific terror at the very idea of driving in Manhattan. Oh, and it was rush hour. And we were in Midtown. However, she assured me that it was unlikely that I would have to move. I told her that I would rather ferry her stuff from the car to the apartment, but she insisted on doing it herself, so I sighed, sat in the driver’s seat, and hoped to hell that I would not be required to actually move the car. (In fact, I decided that should I be approached by a policeperson and asked to move, I would consider taking the ticket ($150) and paying it rather than drive in rush hour traffic. I kept this to myself, though.)

As I waited, I thought about the last time someone asked me to sit in a car and move it if the cops came. It was in 2000 or 2001. I can’t remember what led me to run errands with my friend after work one night, but he had to stop at a software store on 23rd Street, which is a pretty busy street. (At least Dr. H was on a side street.) I said OK, and remained in the passenger seat. He left the keys in the ignition and ran inside.

Before I knew it, a policewoman was peering into the window of the driver’s side. “Um, he’ll be back any second,” I told her. “That’s nice,” she replied and pulled out her pad to write a ticket. I debated what to do. As the wheel turned slowly in my head (Maurice, the hamster in charge of running on the wheel that powers my brain, was frozen with fear – he is scared of driving in Manhattan, too), a man approached the car.

“Do you need help? I could drive it for you,” he offered.

“Oh, OK,” I said.

Yes. That is what I did. I told a strange man that he could get into my friend’s car and drive away with it – and me.

As the man opened the door, my friend emerged from the store. “What the fuck is going on here?” he said.

“Well, I didn’t want to drive, so he offered to move the car,” I told him. The guy had already begun walking away, muttering “Just trying to help.” The po-po stood there, watching everything. My friend got in the car and asked me what the hell was wrong with me. Now that the situation was passed, I wanted to cry. Did I seriously almost let that happen? Yeah, I did. I wanted to puke.

In the ensuing years, I’ve thought about that incident once in a while, and I still want to puke. How could I have been so stupid? I am so lucky that my friend showed up when he did. Maybe the stranger really was just a good Samaritan who would have driven me around the block and returned to get my pal. I’m glad I never found out.

Rush Hour

February 14th, 2011 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in Damn, family, fun trips, hilarity, I love New York, What is wrong with people?

I went with my sister and father to Costco on Sunday morning.  Dana wanted to fill her car with gas before driving back to Iowa, and my mom suggested that she stock up on diapers as long as we were there.  We finished getting gas at 9:53 am, but the store did not open until 10:00.

We pulled into the lot, expecting to be the first people there.  To our surprise the lot was a quarter full.  At least two dozen people lined up at the door.  “Damn,” I said.  “You’d think there was some sort of doorbusters sale going on.”  We stayed in the car and watched people streaming from the lot in all directions.

The doors opened and the growing crowd surged forward.  My dad sprang out of the car.  “Hurry,” he said.  “It’s open!”  I guess this is rush hour in north suburban Chicago. 

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Sightings

February 10th, 2011 by Suzanne | No Comments | Filed in hilarity, I love New York, mortification, random, What is wrong with people?

Last night I went to a lit event downtown. My friend participated in the panel of experts, and at the end, we met up. As we put on our hats and gloves, a wan woman approached me.

“Can I ask you a strange question?” she queried. I nodded. “Are you Suzanne Reisman?”

I had no idea who this person was. “Yeah,” I said. She was a little disheveled looking. I hoped she was not some sort of deranged anti-choice activist who read one of the posts I’ve written at BlogHer in the past few weeks about the assault on abortion access.

“I’m Fakeyname McFakerson,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” I said and smiled.

“I was friends with Dana in school,” she continued.

Oh. I had confused her with another person with the same first name. This was even crazier. My sister is four years younger than me and had not been friends with Fakeyname in about 20 years. How the fuck did she recognize me? I told her that I thought it was remarkable that she recognized me, then felt good about myself. I still look the same after 20 or so years. Go me. I tried to engage her in conversation, asking her what she did and letting her know where my sister lived, but she had zero interest in anything I said and walked away. Strange.

After my encounter, my friend and I went to grab some grub. As we waited to cross the street, I looked at the women standing next to me on the corner. She was African American, lean and tall, had curly grayish hair in a pony tail, and funky glasses. She was Carla from “Top Chef.” I love Carla from “Top Chef.”

“Hey, you’re Carla, right?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said.

“I think you are great.” Then I said something about how the show would be on 45 minutes and I want to root for her to win but I can’t because everyone I root for gets voted out.

“Definitely don’t root for me then!” she said and smiled. I wished her luck, and then hoped like hell that I did not completely stick my foot in my mouth. She clearly was not watching that night’s episode – what if she had been voted out and couldn’t bear to watch? I didn’t get home in time to watch the show or the recording, so I am curious to find out when I view it tonight if I created a situation as awkward as the one I found myself in with Fakeyname McFakerson.

This is one of the many things I love about living in New York. I never know who I will see as I go about my business.

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The Call

January 25th, 2011 by Suzanne | 4 Comments | Filed in hilarity, I am a bad person sometimes, What is wrong with people?

A few minutes before 9 am, the phone I rang. I was in the bathroom, but worried that it was someone calling to cancel the appointments I have today, so I ran out. When I looked at the caller ID, though, I did not recognize the number. Still, I picked it up.

“Hello?” I inquired.

“Good morning, I’m calling for Husband,” a woman replied.

I rolled my eyes. I should have known it would be a telemarketer and finished brushing my teeth.

“He’s not here right now,” I said. Really. It’s almost 9 am. Don’t you think he’s at work? “May I take a message?” I like asking that last part because usually the telemarketers get flustered and stammer and tell me they will try back later, to which I think to myself that if they do, I will be smarter and not answer the phone. Then they will hang up on the answering machine (yes, we still use one, not voice mail) and I will get equally annoyed.

“OK, can you tell him his personal banker from Chase at 61st Street and Broadway called?” the woman said in a pleasant tone.

I almost started laughing. Personal banker? Right. These “personal bankers” have called from that branch a few times, and whenever I give Husband the message, he reminds me that we don’t have a “personal banker” and they just want to sell us a financial product that is a rip-off. “Sure,” I said and murmured “uh huh” as she recited her name and number.

“Thanks, Suzanne,” she said. “You have a nice day now and keep warm.”

I wished her the same. As I hung up, I thought about how interesting it was that she assumed I was the person listed on the account as Husband’s wife when I never identified myself. For all she knew, I could have been guest who was answering the phone while my friend Suzanne was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. I also found it amusing that she was just Husband’s “personal banker,” as if I have nothing to do with our finances. (Actually, that would be true, so she was two for two on her assumptions, but still.) Overall, an unsatisfactory interaction, but good fodder for reflection.

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Blood Libel

January 12th, 2011 by Suzanne | 16 Comments | Filed in evil, Jewishness, mortification, What is wrong with people?

I planned to write a lighthearted post today about using pliers to zip things. That story will have to wait. I was very upset this weekend by the shooting that took place in Arizona, but a lot of people were writing about it, and I didn’t have anything to add to their poignant and thoughtful – and yes, sometimes, angry – words.

Then Sarah Palin released her video statement. I’m not going to pretend that I watched it; I didn’t. I did not not watch it because I was sick of the people who take no responsibility for their words and actions accusing people like me of taking no responsibility for our words and actions. I didn’t watch it because someone told me that Palin claimed that there was a blood libel against her.

It’s hard to write this because I’m so upset that I’m crying, and the tears are obstructing my vision and my nose is running and it’s a mess. Blood libels have been used against Jews for centuries in Europe. They are accusations that Jews (or in some cases other minorities) kill Christian children to use their blood for religious reasons. They always led to extreme violence against Jews. They were always strummed up by high powered authorities as ways to incite mobs and let them feel justified in murdering and maiming. Almost always a blood libel conveniently was manufactured by officials when they needed to get pressure off of themselves for their failures and blame others. The insidiousness of blood libels touch multiple levels of human failure.

One of the most recent and infamous blood libels took place in Kielce, Poland in July 1946. When police/government officials/local citizens manufactured a story about a missing Christian boy, a mob – comprised also of police and government officials – rampaged. About 40 (out of the 200 Jews who managed to survive the Holocaust and return home) were killed and dozens of others injured. Around that time, my grandfather had just returned to Poland from Russia, where he had been since 1940. In August, he left Poland forever, taking my bubbe and father across the Czech and Austrian borders illegally so they could live in the relative safety of Austrian DP camps.

In the last few years, many people have accused people they disagree with of acting like Nazis. Recently, Glenn Beck claimed that Holocaust survivor George Soros was a Nazi. In the last decade, people who disagreed with George Bush’s (admittedly bad) policies compared him to Hitler. Now of course, people are claiming that Obama is another Hitler.

When we allow this speech, we denigrate history. We say that run-of-the-mill disagreements and policies that we think are bad are tantamount to genocide. Worse, in cases like Sarah Palin or Glenn Beck, we allow demagogues to misappropriate history, using it against the people who were hurt by it, painting the victims as perpetrators and the perpetrators of violence as victims. This is sick. No, it is beyond sick. It has to end, but I don’t think it will. And that’s why I’m crying. Because I don’t know what to do.