Ladyfingers: Everybody knows

I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. A stiff, bullshit-free drink. The kind that touches your lips but you don’t know it’s anywhere near your body until it punches you from the inside. Reminds you that you’re alive. Because I swear to Jameson it feels like I’m in the middle of M. Nightshamanadingdong film-twist. I mean, this shit is really happening you guys. And I can’t just Into the Wild this bad boy and wish you all the best. I’m in it. We’re in it. But, I need a break.

We all need a break. There’s no quitting, but a breather might be nice. Remember the good ol’ days of Facebook? “Sabrina Ambra: is so bored OMG!!!” Shame on me, forever rolling my eyes at Tom’s 17th picture of a sunset. How dare I internally complain about Tina’s poll on who has better ice, 7-11 or Wawa? I’ll take an entire feed of Tyrell’s fish tank updates over what I scroll through on a daily basis. I know I can always delete the fucking app and pretend I’m above it, but until then can we talk about it?

Do you ever wonder what a person is doing during one of their many feverish Facebook rants of the day? Besides slamming their thumbs on the screen hard enough to hear out loud and breathing heavily through their flared nostrils? Are they picking up their kids from school? Like in a minivan with those stick-figure-family stickers pasted on their back window? Is it the guy that just delivered the 40 lbs of cat litter I ordered off of Amazon? Is it my eighth-grade math teacher? I feel like I don’t know anybody anymore. I have zero grasp on what an individual may be like, but almost a perfect idea of how certain groups of people act when together. It’s a very weird feeling. I’m all about the benefit of the doubt, but that ideology goes out the window when the blissfully ignorant have no doubt in their ways.

Besides, as muttered in the immortal words of Leonard Cohen, as interpreted by Concrete Blonde during the season of youthful discontent, or the Pump Up the Volume soundtrack, “Everybody knows that the dice are loaded. Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed. Everybody knows that the dice are loaded. Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed. Everybody knows the war is over. Everybody knows the good guys lost. Everybody knows the fight was fixed. The poor stay poor, the rich get rich. That’s how it goes. Everybody knows.” In this day and age, we all know we’re fucked.

Growing up, I was encouraged to stand up for what I believe in and speak up when something isn’t right. Now I’m not here to determine who is right and who is wrong (and by “right” and “wrong,” I mean logical and batshit crazy), but this self-righteous, woe-is-me, fucking-kill-yourself-if-you-don’t-agree mentality has gotten out of control. Hey assholes, look around – turns out your DIY soapboxes put you at the same exact level as every other asshole. It sucks to be sucked into this – the negativity. I mean, here I am writing against it and even I’m angry. What kind of example am I setting?

We have a bumpy road ahead of us and we will have to fight. However, we fight with dignity and kindness. But most importantly, we must give ourselves a damn break once in a while. Get high and watch funny videos on YouTube. Grab a drink with a friend and DON’T talk about politics for at least 30 minutes. Masturbate standing up. I don’t care what you do or how you do it, but it’s important that we don’t kill ourselves by nose-diving into the Lake Bigot. WE HAVE GOT TO STAY AFLOAT PEOPLE!

I know the next four years I’ll be walking around with my palm’s imprint on my forehead, but I’ll be damned if any racist, sexist, homophobic, chauvinist social media post thinks they can silence me. Bring it on. I’ll keep using my voice, I’ll continue standing up for what is right, I’ll show compassion and love to any mother fucker that wants to try me. You can hide behind your smartphones and tablets all you want, you don’t scare me and neither will your memes! Maybe one day we’ll all go back to using those devices the way they were intended to be used: for watching pornography. Until then, my head will be held high and my pussy un-grabbed. If you ever find yourself sinking in dicksand (quicksand, but made out of people acting like dicks), take the opportunity for a breather. If you need a buddy, count me in. The first round of stiff, bullshit-free drinks is on me.