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Dear Fellow Women:

This week has been illuminating. It’s clear we are going about this whole “gender equality” thing the wrong way. We feminists have been advocating for women’s rights on the basis of equality.

We’ve been wanting people to play by what we think should be the rules (you know: logic, respect, fairness, etc.). But really, we need to be playing by rules already in place: men’s rules.

So here’s the deal: Let’s learn from the Kavanaugh debacle. Don’t get mad. Get even.

1. Deny, deny, deny

This is very freeing. You can do anything you want — especially when you are drunk — and just say you didn’t do it. Boom. Maybe you really did forget. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to you. Maybe you did it and don’t want to remember. It doesn’t matter. Just say you didn’t do it. Or you don’t recall. Or your accuser is crazy. You know, go full gaslight. The beauty of this is that people will believe you, the perpetrator! Just get super defensive. Don’t stand down — double down!

2. Accuse, accuse, accuse (i.e., the best defense is a good offense)

If you are ever in a jam, make sure you say that the person is making it up for fame. Clearly that works. I know all of us can name every one of Bill Cosby’s accusers. We want autographs of these world-famous women. Who wouldn’t want to be famous for being sexually assaulted? #squadgoals

3. Girls will be girls

We’ve all heard “boys will be boys” so much this week. I always thought that meant chasing each other with stick guns and farting on each other’s heads. But apparently it means that guys can do anything — ANYTHING — when they are 17 and younger, and NOTHING will happen. Clarification: white guys.

So ladies, do whatever you want as long as you are 17 and younger. We all will back you up and say, “Girls will be girls.”

4. Time is on your side

Oh you did something years ago, and someone wants you to answer for it? Pbfft! Who has time for that noise? It was 5, 10, 35 (insert number) years ago. You are important now. You have a whole amazing career ahead of you. Just remember that YOUR career path is much more important than your accuser’s career path and mental health.

5. Take what you want

You think a dude is hot? Grab him by the penis. Try to get inside that bathing suit. Lock the door, drop your skirt, and make demands on your male coworkers. Put your needs/wants first. Don’t think twice. Men need to watch what they wear, how much they drink, where they park, where they jog, what they say. This is your world now. You might even get to be president of the United States someday! (And if they don’t like it, just tell them they’d look better if they smiled more.)

There. Problem solved. I’ll take my thanks in gift cards for bathrobes, cigars and scotch.

Welcome to the jungle,
Beth

P.S. You are a man, and you’re mad at me now for generalizing? Get over yourself. I do not hate men; I hate the double standard. Also, unless you’ve sexually harassed someone, I’m clearly NOT TALKING TO OR ABOUT YOU!

P.P.S. You are outraged at my post, and you want to tell me that there really are false allegations. I’m sure there are. But only 2-10 percent of all rape reports are found to be false. Only 35 percent of rapes are ever reported. Why? I’m sure Christine Blasey Ford can tell you exactly why.

P.P.P.S. You don’t understand sarcasm? You’re reading the wrong blog.

P.P.P.P.S. Of course I am NOT advocating for any kind of sexual assault. By anyone. Anywhere. Anytime. Good grief! See P.P.P.S. above.

 

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Dear Kim:

Thank you for introducing me to the [name redacted] diet system. Like you, I am a busy Type A woman who loves rules. Packaged food helps as I often don’t have time to go get something to eat. And I hate the gym.

I listened to you for two reasons:

1. You lost 28 pounds in two months.
2. You said the food was delicious.

I’ve been on the system for four days. I have thoughts. Of course.

1. I know why you lost so much weight. This is about a 1,000-calorie-or-fewer-per-day plan.
2. The food is not delicious, Kim. Everything I’ve tried has the same flavor and texture. I feel like I’m eating dog food. (And now I’m concerned about the state of your taste buds, Kim.)
3. I do not want a personal coach/cheering section. This is why I don’t do CrossFit.

The coach part is the hardest. The system wouldn’t let me purchase the meal kit until I selected a coach. My coach has PLENTY of energy. She has contacted me via text, Facebook and phone at least three times a day since I signed up. Read that again. Kim. She calls me. You know how I feel about that. She’s very aggressive assertive interested in making sure I feel supported.

This is just one text she sent. A TEXT!

I can’t be too cranky: She really is making sure I have all the tools I need. She is more enthusiastic than I am about me hitting my target. And I guess I need that push.

Anyway, I’m drinking more water, eating less and walking more. I’ve already lost six pounds. Mostly water weight, I’m sure. But I’ll take it.

So thanks, Kim: You and your defective taste buds have given me the push I need.

Love and kibble kisses,
The slimmer version of Beth

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Dear Amazon Stork Prime Returns Department:

When I brought “First-born Son” home, I was so pleased with it. Yes, it did make plenty of noise at first — keeping me up many, many nights in a row (about 240 to be honest) — and it did make somewhat of a mess, but it was adorable. Everyone said so. And it was just what I wanted.

Very cute, right?

My husband and I then enjoyed years of fun with “First-born Son.” Lately, though, this product has started acting up. It started with an eyeroll here and there. Then it began muttering under its breath. The noises coming out of it over the past few weeks, however, are really too much to bear.

We usually only hear “whatever” or “I don’t want to (insert anything except eating Cheez-its and playing Fortnite).” But this weekend, it actually wished me dead.

This can’t be proper behavior of the “First-born Son” product line.

It’s stuck in this position.

I’m not sure what kind of warranty you have on “First-born Son” or refund policy, but I need to find some kind of resolution. Is there at least a master reset button or factory restore I can perform?

Please let me know. Time is of the essence.

Sincerely,
Beth

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Dear Climate Change Deniers,

I know that nothing I say can change your mind, but I can’t sleep unless I try. (I mean I can’t sleep anyway, so … )

Here are my bona fides: I have five college degrees: B.A., B.S., M.A., M.F.A., Ph.D. (not bragging; just offering facts). The second is the one you should care about as it is in Geosciences.

That’s right. I’m a meteorologist.

(Uh oh, trigger warning: a scientist — member of the intellectual elite, blah blah blah.)

I know evidence when I see it with my own eyes. Even without other scientists (and even NASA) saying over and over that global warming is real, I see proof in many ways.

Increasing intensity and number of tropical storms is just one. I mean, just look!

WTF?!

So it’s really hard to deny that climate change is real.

Still with me? Let’s move on.

The second argument is whether it is caused by fellow two-legged menaces. Like most rational humans, I believe it is. That doesn’t really matter, though.

Shouldn’t we still engage in practices that will improve the environment as opposed to destroying it?

Shouldn’t we still explore alternative fuel sources?

Shouldn’t we still recycle, pick up after ourselves, eschew straws in favor of sea turtles and the like?

We all have to live here on Earth, you know. Despite Elon Musk’s attempts, Mars is still not an option.

It’s not like it really costs each of us much more to be responsible land dwellers.

Plus, there are plenty of jobs in new technologies, so it makes fiscal sense.

Come on, folks: Work with me here. Let’s be rational and make some progress together.

You want to, right?

It’d be a lot cooler if you did,
Beth

*Brian Klaas, The Washington Post

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Dear Routinely Judgy People:

I try not to be you, but sometimes I am. Case in point: Friday night.

It was a weird, busy night.

5:30 p.m.
Mini reunion of some high-school friends: Lee Ann, Susan and Katherine. Lee Ann’s husband had signed up to be part of the 500 Songs For Kids fundraising event at The Earl.

7 p.m.
Quick get-together with Eddie, the kids and Brenon, an old friend in town for a funeral.

8 p.m.
Picked up Wendy to go to The Earl. Wendy is a college friend in town to move her son into our alma mater.

8:30 p.m.
Wendy and I met up with Lee Ann and Susan (and I hoped my worlds colliding would be a success).

The fundraiser featured plenty of crowd-pleasing songs such as “Bad Reputation,” “Stacy’s Mom” and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.” Lee Ann’s poor husband Bill got stuck with “The Gambler,” though. Not a bad song, but not so great for this event/venue.

Here’s where the judging comes in:

Between each song, the host chatted up the fundraiser, all Jerry Lewis telethon style. After a while, though, he talked more than the bands played.

There he is, talking. Again. Still.

I began to hate him.

I actually looked in my pocket to see how much cash I had, thinking I could donate all of it to make him SHUT UP.

Lee Ann and Susan had left by this time, but Wendy was with me in sentiment (lest you think I was the lone hateful hag).

But then, something magical happened.

That’s right. He threw Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies into the audience to the tune of Michael Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet.”

And my heart grew three sizes that day.

The romantic aftermath

I should have learned my “book by its cover” lesson, but no.

Another group came on stage. Riff Raff with a dye job, an ’80s hair band reject wearing Uggs lite and smuggling chicken nuggets in his spandex, and a D&D basement dweller.

Whose basement exploded?

 

Wendy and I were being very mean.

Me: (About the RHPS lookalike) There’s your boyfriend.

Wendy: (Squeals) Every time I see him, I’m freshly horrified.

Then they began to play.

They played Rush’s “Tom Sawyer.”

They played Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” better than any band I have ever seen (sorry, Jesse’s Divide) besides Rush themselves.

Riff and the gang earned mad respect. And Wendy and I felt like the heels we were.

So hallelujah for self awareness.

And hallelujah for that guy. Amazing.

So even though I try not to be disparaging, I often fail. But I also admit when I’m wrong.

I was wrong.

I’m sorry.

I’ll do better.

Love and karma,
Beth

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Dear Conference Presenters:

Congratulations on having a research paper or topic deemed worthy of presentation. You cleared the biggest hurdle!

The next hurdle is the actual presentation.

When you are preparing your remarks, keep in mind that the audience members are your peers. They come to your session because there is something about it that seems interesting. They may or may not know as much as you do about your subject.

You have a duty to prepare something interesting. Auntie Beth is here to help.

Here are some DOs and DON’Ts for presenting (really, any kind of public speaking):

  • DO tell a story to kick off the presentation. You can do this; humans are natural storytellers. For example, tell us how you got interested in your topic.
  • DO think of your presentation as a narrative with a clear beginning, middle and end.
  • DO have visual aids. DON’T write out all your text on the slides.
  • DO show how to use the technology if you are presenting on the benefits of an app. Every conference room has a projector. DON’T walk up and down the aisle waving your phone as a visual aid.
  • DO relax and turn on the charm. Think of it as a conversation, or at least a conversation starter.
  • DO pay attention to your audience. If they are napping, then your storytelling needs some work.
  • DON’T read your research paper, for the love of God. (I will leave your session so fast I’ll just be a blur.)
  • DON’T go over your allotted time. It’s just unprofessional and rude to your co-presenters.
  • DON’T fight with your audience. It’s OK to disagree with various points people make, but it’s not OK to get shouty.
  • DO let organizers know if it seems like the panel makeup is not as diverse as it should be. With all the focus on under-representation, you would think that all white male panels would be a thing of the past. You would be wrong. This guy gets it:

Remember to breathe and have fun. If you aren’t having fun, neither will the people who came to see you.

Go get ’em, Tiger!
Auntie Beth

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Dear Fake News Media:

You don’t exist.

You are a figment of a certain someone‘s overactive imagination and marketing strategy to a willing audience.

You are an oxymoron. If something is fake (i.e., not real), it’s not news (news is real). News is not fake just because someone doesn’t like it.

You know what does exist? Actual news media made up of real people who work their butts off to inform the population and hold people in power accountable — the fourth estate that ensures a strong republic. (Oh that old thing … )

You know what is newsworthy? Here are the criteria:

Timeliness: happening now or just happened
Prominence: the person/entity involved is well known or powerful
Proximity: happening or happened nearby
Impact/consequence: affected or will affect readers/viewers
Novelty/rarity: out of the ordinary
Human interest: the lives of others are interesting

If it’s not out of the ordinary, it wouldn’t bear a mention. That’s just the way it is.

There’s a saying in news:

You don’t cover the planes that land.

You cover the wrecks.

Someone I know on Facebook (name withheld for protection) wrote:

MSM would be lost were it not for [Trump’s] tweets. They hang on every word, analyze them, and re-analyze them.

Um … yeah. He’s the president. What he says is news. Duh.

“Lost,” though? Not likely.

There’s plenty to cover without Trump tweeting.

It blows my mind how much we cover in one day.

That’s from Kristen Welker, White House correspondent for NBC News.

She said that last night in the AEJMC keynote panel, “Covering the White House: From Eisenhower to Trump,” held in Washington, D.C., and broadcast on C-SPAN.

(Yeah, I’m at a journalism education conference with other university professors/administrators — plus news organizations/foundations — and I’m still a journalist. Both of my professions are under fire. Lucky me!)

Those people who are suspicious of the mainstream media, though, should take solace in this fact shared in that same panel by Christi Parsons, former White House correspondent with the Tribune Company.

Because [Trump] is so personally antagonistic, journalists go above and beyond to double check.

The news media is not the “enemy of the people.” The news media consists of real people trying to do important work in a profession under siege by the person in the nation’s highest office.

Those who delight in calling the media “enemy” plus “fake,” think about this:

Do you really want to live in a country without independent media covering people making decisions with your tax money?

The true enemy of the people is the lack of critical thinking.

My advice to those worried about veracity and bias? Get your news from a variety of sources, as suggested by Herman and Chomsky way back in the ’80s.

My advice to the 43 percent in that poll? Please educate yourself about democracy and guy named Jefferson. Or don’t, but don’t answer polls. Skip the news, and just go watch Netflix and chill.

My advice to journalists? Keep on keeping on. Ask the tough questions. Submit the open records requests. Keep striving for objectivity.

We need you more than ever.

And tell me where I can donate so you can hire security.

Yours in solidarity,
Beth

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Dear Owners of the Crown Hotel,

I enjoyed visiting your establishment Saturday night. I had booked a stay in case I wasn’t able to connect with my friends Hannah and Clair before an event in the area.

Clair had nothing but unkind comments for you. She said shocking things such as:

That is where the council use as a B&B as temporary accommodation for people who are homeless/on the council waiting list.

I certainly wouldn’t leave anything valuable there! And take it in the shower with you and nap with your laptop under your pillow!

Don’t forget to put elastic bands around your trouser bottoms to stop the flea bites!

I really think she underestimated your attractions. You have billed yourself as a “cheap, no-frills hotel,” but I think you are selling yourself short.

Just look at all your amazing amenities:

1. Extra foliage in the chimneys for a lovely garden effect PLUS a location convenient to the train.

Photo by the Clair the Hateful

2. Designated parking for ladies. I’m sure the ladies of the evening feel honored.

3. A Sizzler on site for guests’ dining pleasure.

4. Double-doored entryway to keep out the riffraff. Or not.

5. Convenient access to and egress from my potential room.

6. Stray bits of plaster from the walls to remind one that the property is historic. (Hannah does not see this as a positive: “They did not even bother to hoover the room!” She and Clair have standards, you see. Too bad, really.)

7. A sock over the smoke detector so that someone can light up in peace.

8. A window right out onto the roof to allow easy access for rapists and murderers — what a perk!9. A policy requiring guests to leave their key at reception (Who needs to keep up with a pesky key? Who cares about their valuable items in the room? Life is too short to worry about material goods.)

I’m so sorry I did not take advantage of your ample charms. I ended up staying out late and going home with Hannah.

Sad to say, her home had been freshly hoovered, and there were no fleas in sight. I felt safe too. Where’s the adventure in that?

Maybe next time, Crown.
Beth

*Credit/apologies to Shakespeare’s “Henry IV, Part II,” 1597.

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Echo and the Bunnymen perform for the elderly at Chastain Park.

Dear Fellow Concert-goers (aka Grizzled Old Beasts Just Like Me),

It was great to hang out with you at the Echo and the Bunnymen and Violent Femmes performance last night. Between the sets, I was taking a good look at all of you — people watching, as I do. You know, finding inspiration for this blog and other writing projects.

I noticed plenty of partial and full hair loss, beer bellies, socks pulled up too far, white shoes, varicose veins, gray hair, etc.

“Jesus, these people are old,” thought I.

That uncharitable thought was followed quickly by this one:

“Oh shit. These are my people. I’m old too.”

Dang. That was a rude awakening. I’m still 27. In my head. Forever. As I bet you are too.

 

Notice the beer (which was delicious). Then notice who is beyond the beer. Notice the cane and the socks.

How we feel ≠ how we look.

It’s depressing.

😕

But not as depressing as the thought of the geriatric dating game. Some of you were definitely hooking up (or trying to, at least). I mean, good for you.

Eddie and I ended up joking about that this morning (I’m in blue, in case you are cursed with an Android phone):

(Don’t give me flak for hating on the stout hairless men of the world. We all have a type, and that’s not mine. And they don’t like me either. So there.)

If forced, I guess I’d have to get some Botox and lipo and start cougaring. But then I’d have to forget knowing every ’80s song, including the Femmes’ repertoire.

I cannot live a lie.

Just like us (in our minds), the Femmes’ sound hasn’t aged at all.

So I think we should all agree to keep on keeping on, just as Hunter S. Thompson recommended:

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, ‘Wow! What a Ride!'”

Ride on, fellow geezers.
Beth

 

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Dear Reader’s Digest,

Thank you for your efforts to empower women. I’m sure this title didn’t seem patronizing when you published this pamphlet in 1973 — 10 years behind the start of the second wave of feminism.

Now, though …

I’m surprised every chapter doesn’t just say, “Call a man.”

To be fair, it doesn’t ever say that, but there is a whiff of condescension. For example, in the “Starting difficulties” section of the “Six dilemmas with your car” chapter, the unnamed writer states:

If your car refuses to start, but the battery has enough power to crank the engine, you may not be using the correct starting procedure.

You must use your delicate lady feet to depress the accelerator.

To your credit, there is some great information in here. But let’s be honest: Not all men are handy, and not all women take to their fainting sofas when faced with an emergency.

Shock? Or Reader’s Digest’s expectations of a woman’s general nature?

A better title would have been the simple, “Guide to household emergencies.” Oh wait — you thought of that as you published a similar guide in the same year under that exact title. Why not call it, “Men’s guide to household emergencies?”

Anyway, lucky for us, the women’s guide is enhanced with these special illustrations:

You too can change a tire without damaging your manicure!

Yet no self-respecting woman (or man, for that matter) should heed your advice regarding toilet clogs:

Try reaching as far as possible into the toilet to dislodge the blockage.

Um … no.

My 1950s June Cleaver-style mom clearly found this guide useful, as it was one of the few things she kept. (She wasn’t particularly sentimental, and thankfully wasn’t a borderline hoarder like someone else I know.)

My mom always liked to be prepared. In fact, she tucked in the pages of your guide this clipping from the Atlanta Journal and Constitution:

Note that the AJC did not select target audience gender. So that’s nice. And rather forward-thinking compared to you.

Anyway, thanks for providing amusement for me 45 years after publication.

Dying to get my mitts on the “men’s” version for comparison,
Beth

 

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