Saturday, December 15, 2007

The Mommy Fetish- short version

My piece for the anthology is about how we fetishize motherhood so we don't have to pay women to do the actual work of mothering. It's also about calling bullshit on the "motherhood is my greatest accomplishment" line that moms (both SAHM and working moms) are supposed to spew out instead of any accomplishments that might get the recognition outside of the home.

Over at RandomBabble and today at Pandagon and with some of the people (mostly guys) that I have talked to about the essay, I have started some shit. Apparently being pissed off that women get pigeonholed into an unpaid and thankless role means I'm bitchy or something. Fine.

But here's the thing. Women have been having babies and raising them to adulthood for at least 200,000 years, and pretty damn successfully. In developed countries with access to prenatal care and childhood vaccinations and general freedom from the violence of wars and famine, raising a child to adulthood is a given. We don't spend every day of our child's life worrying about whether they are going to starve to death or be turned into war fodder. We worry about whether they are reading at grade level or socializing properly or getting the right organic nutrients and college entrance test scores. These are not life or death concerns, they are marginal. Being a mother in a developed country rarely means making life or death choices for your kids.

So if you're a SAHM in America claiming that your kids are your greatest accomplishment- I call bullshit. If you're a working mom in America and you say the same thing- I call bullshit on that too. We (moms) are doing a tough and thankless job, yes. But not a job that hasn't been done by billions and billions of women before us.

And lots of people have tough and thankless jobs. Fast food workers, secretaries, farm workers, customer service people. I have yet to hear any of those people demand that people acknowledge their sacrifice for showing up everyday at a crap job. Because we pay them. Moms, on the other hand, get paid in stupid cards and flowers one day a year and a giant shitload of platitudes and sentiment the rest of the year.

I would rather have the cash than the sentiment. And I am sorry if you feel hurt because I think choosing to stay at home with your kids isn't an accomplishment worthy of my admiration. Whopdee fucking do. You're not some poor Sudanese mother who has managed to keep all of her daughters from being raped and her sons from being slaughtered (which would be an accomplishment). You've just managed to get little Chloe or Zack to sleep through the night or pick up cheerios in a pincher grasp or whatever. And so have we working moms, with half the time and twice the workload.

Be your own damn greatest accomplishment, let your kids be theirs. Give them an example to follow, not a fucking martyr.

just for fun

You Are Surrealism

Dreamy and idealistic, you've created a world that is all your own.
It's very likely that you've either dabbled in drugs or are naturally trippy.
You are always trying to push beyond the boundaries of your culture and society.
You believe that art, love, and freedom can change the world.

Better Man

In the comments to the last post, Wonder and I were talking about a phenomena we frequently run into in relationships.

"You make me want to be a better man"

"You're my moral compass"

If we had a dollar for every guy that said that kind of stuff, we'd be much better off than we are. I don't know how widespread this idea is that woman are supposed to be the ethics moderators for men, I only know how common it is in my relationships. And it SUCKS!

Granted, this is a kind of power can be sort of an aphrodisiac, at first. It seems like it's the power to teach someone something hugely important to the human existence (whether or not you believe in god). But the truth usually shows itself soon enough. You are not teaching them to be better people, you are the excuse they use to continue to be selfish and small minded. They don't have to do the hard thinking or feel guilt over being an asswipe because you are there to do it for them. It's the relationship version of catholic confession, a way to rid yourself of sin without doing the hard work of actual atonement.

And I wonder if this isn't the natural progression of making women the gatekeepers of sex, something that comes up way to frequently when talking about morals. Personally, I think any kind of sex between consenting adults is fine and not any sort of moral failing, but when you make morals so much about sexuality, and you make women the gatekeepers of sex, then it's not a giant leap to think that women are the gate keepers of morality too. (Add the not small belief that women are responsible for original sin and we get the extra burden of making up for that for all eternity by being the sacrificing and compassionate sex).

Wonder says she wants a guy who is a better feminist than she is. (Good luck with that). I would be happy with a guy has his own strong ethical beliefs and internal moral compass. I am already teaching one male (the Kid) how to be moral, I don't want to do it for a grown up.

Feminist lessons for the kid

The Kid is reading the Da Vinci Code, and like most people who have read it he has become OBSESSED.

I remember this age, I think I went batshit over the Mist's of Avalon, but I am sure I was not nearly as cute in my obsession as the Kid

Kid: Mom, did you know that the symbols we use for man and women, you know the one with the arrow and the one that looks like a person, are wrong.

Me: Really, what are they supposed to be?

Kid: Well, the woman is really a cup, but it looks like a V. And the men, it's an upside down V. It's supposed to mean spear but (In super quiet whisper) it really looks like a phallus.

Me: You know why I like the other symbols better?

Kid: Why?

Me: Cause in Christianity there is this idea that women aren't really people, but empty vessels that are useless till you fill them up, like a cup. I like the other symbol better cause it let's women be people, not empty objects.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Imaginary Pet Blogging- Ruby the Rebel

When last we left Ruby, she had gone to Buenos Aires for the annual tango festival. In Argentina, Ruby fell on hard times and found herself doing a burlesque tango show at a brothel. One night, when Ruby's fishnets were on their last leg and tips were low in walked Miguel Luis Manana Naranja, head of Espanovision, the second largest media network in all of Latin America.

Miguel took one look at Ruby's tattered fishnets and determined, furry face and decided that she was his new it girl, er hamster. He whisked Ruby out of the brothel and into a whirlwind of fancy parties, private jets and lavish dinners. He gave her a gold plated hamster wheel for her new penthouse apartment and made the producers of As the Wheel Turns create a part for Ruby based on her life in the brothel.

At first Ruby was overwhelmed by Miguel's kindness and all the luxury. Her water bottled was filled with nothing but imported French sparkling water that had been blessed by deaf -mute nuns. She had her own private stash of silkworms who worked day and night spinning out fresh silk for her bedding. Miguel took her everywhere with him. But the fast life was wearing on her. She found herself shooting up pure Columbian coffee and snorting echinacea just to get out of bed in the morning. She was far from her punk rock feminist ideal.

One night Miguel took her to one of his high stakes poker parties. He said she was his lady luck and had to go with him when she tried to decline out of exhaustion. She half heartedly threw on a long silk gown, did a line of coffee and smeared some lipstick on her tiny hamster lips.

At the poker table, Miguel was losing big to Rupert Murdoch. Murdoch wanted control of Espanovision and Miguel had gambled everything he had, except his shares in the company. The final straw was when he gambled Ruby on a bet to get everything back. Ruby was pissed, she wasn't possession he could dump when the stakes were high. Before the game could continue, Ruby ran out of the night and away from her luxury life.

She found her way to a clinic for coffee addicts in Peru. While there she became obsessed with the stories she heard of the Shining Path. After her life as a capitalist tool, she wanted to contribute to a great cause, and the Shining path seemed the way for her to do that. When she was strong enough, she packed up a simple rucksack with bread and nuts and trecked off into the Peruvian countryside to throw herself in with the rebels.

This was going to be about Christmas.

This morning I was getting ready to compose a post about the whole "Merry Christmas Controversy", in which I was going to implore my fellow Christians not to participate in the uncharitable complaining which has cropped up in recent years in the face of well-meaning, or even purely commercial attempts to recognize the seasonal celebrations of our non-christian neighbors.

I was going to comment that this sort of harping seems to originate from voices whose agendas appear inconsistent, at least in this Christian's viewpoint, with the teachings, much less the example, of Jesus. Of course if you're a Christian who read this blog, I'm probably preaching to the choir.

I was going to explain that this "War on Christmas" nonsense makes us look like fools at best, and worse, that it encourages the kind of bigotry that led a group of young men, who probably consider themselves Christians, to attack group of young Jewish men and women on a subway for replying to their "Merry Christmas" with "Happy Hanukkah"

But I want to stop right there for a moment. I've got more to say on the Christmas thing, but something caught my attention, and I almost skipped right past it.

If you've been following the conversation on here the last week, you've noticed the phrase "human tribe" popping up a few times. You've seen that the recurring theme this week has been -- what motivates people to help others when it's not in their own direct self-interest?

You've read Red's heartfelt thank-you to someone who helped her out, depite their disagreements.

We've wondered out loud how to change society so that helping people in need is the norm.

Now let's go back to that subway.

Cause I wanna take notice of one of those people we're talking about. Those people, like the KBR employee with the cell phone, and Red's not-so-anonymous benefactor. A regular person, who didn't just stand by & do nothing.

His name is Hassan Askari. He's a 20-year old accounting student from Bangladesh, who says he's not a hero. He's a Muslim, but he wasn't thinking about the religious differences between himself and these strangers.

"I didn't have time to think about that," he said. "I was more thinking that these guys were going to get beaten up and I should do something."

According to Mr. Askari, his parents are proud of him.
They taught him to stand up for others.

Because it's the right thing to do.

Hey Wonder!

B says you've been tagged for I splotchy. Got to it chica!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Favorite Christmas Songs

I don't like traditional Christmas songs for the most part. Sure, I can sing O Christmas Tree in the original German and know most of the words to Adeste Fidelus, but I prefer my Christmas with a side of music with some rock and roll 80's pop in it.

So I have a cheesy weakness for the Beach Boys "Little Saint Nick". I know all the lyrics and will sing it loudly and off key whenever it comes on the radio.

Some other faves

The Waitresses- Christmas Wrapping (the same peeps that do I Know What Boys Like)

Erasure- Another Lonely Chrsitmas

The Pretenders- 2000 Miles

And my all time favorite Christmas song- The Ramones- Merry Christmas (I don't want to fight tonight with you)

Know them by their deeds

One of my few strengths is being able to admit when I'm wrong. And I have to say a great big huge apology to someone who I was not terribly kind to.

Last night, Wonder told me someone wanted to help out my current situation with some money, anonymously if they could. I wracked my brains trying to think who it could be, but I could not have been more shocked when I saw who it was (turns out paypal isn't so anonymous). This is someone I have not been nice to, someone I have been pretty dismissively mean to. For that, I am sorry. I guess I figured you were one of those types of Christians I run across all the time, all talk and judgment, not a lot of charity.

Thank you for your generous gift. I know you have kids and it's Christmas,that money could have gone for toys for your own kids. So please know it means a lot to us. It will help us get some groceries and cover overdraft fees until we get food stamps, and I am sure that if the Kid knew you're the reason we get to have a really good dinner tonight, he'd give you a tackle hug.

For not giving you the benefit of the doubt before, I am sorry. I am sure we will find many many ways to disagree in the future, but performing an act of charity for someone you don't get along with very well is pretty much the top of the list of ways Christians are supposed to be good. I am sorry, and thankful, and very impressed.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

I, Splotchy

I've been tagged by Brave Sir Robin, so here goes.

I, Splotchy: This Story Is A Virus :

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.
MathMan has tagged me to add to the story, which reads....

I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)

"That's strange," I said out loud to no one in particular. My fingers slowly reached towards the jar again. My body experienced a wave of apprehension as weighted blanket covering me as I did so. The jar was completely frozen.

I picked it up and stared at it, my fingers stung with little knives of chill. "What the..." again I spoke aloud. Then I realized what had happened with a shock. Suddenly the jar flew from my hand. It shattered creating a collage-like mixture of frozen applesauce and glass shards on my kitchen floor, the lid lazily rolling to a stop across the room. (FranIam)

I stood for a moment considering what all this meant. Oh, I knew what it meant, I didn’t need to waste time thinking about it. He was back. And he was mad.

I ran down the hallway and flung open the door at the end. I was immediately hit with a blast of cold. I took a step back as I tried to catch my breath. I bent over, hands on my knees panting. He always had this remarkable effect on me. After so much time, it no longer scared me, but it was a shock nonetheless……

“You know,” I panted, “There’s no need to break things to get my attention.” (DCup)

I woke up in the same position as in my dream, on my knees. I was sweating even though room was freezing. (mathman6293)

I was used to the house being quite cold in the mornings, as the night log usually burns out around one AM when I am dreaming cozily under my covers, not normally waking to put a new one on until morning. I was surprised because on the rare occasions that it actually had reached sub-freezing temperatures in the house, I had awakened in the night to restart the fire. I would have been worried about the pipes before P-Day, but there hadn’t been running water in two years and that was one of the few advantages to being dependent on rainwater, no pipes. (Freida Bee)

The nightmares began during the following spring. The apple trees came to life in my dreams. At first the trees spoke and I thought they were amusing. That changed when the messages arrived. Lately, their anger was directed at me. (mathman6293)

The sound of the front porch floorboards creaking snapped me out of my reverie. I stood up, grabbed my shotgun and made sure a round was chambered, then quietly made my way into the front room and over to the window. As I peeked out past the closed curtains, my heart began to beat rapidly.

It can't be, the incredulous thought came, I saw him die last year!
There was no doubt it was him. I knew the minute he tried to meow and managed only a croak. I could feel him purring before he even reached my leg. As he started to rub against me I bent to pick him up but that’s as far as I got. I smelled her perfume. I didn't see her and the scent was very faint, but a man doesn't forget the smell of a woman like her. As my arms pulled Sylvester to my chest my eyes were closed. The smell of her was strong on him, and my mind carried me back to the last time I'd buried myself in that heady fragrance. "Sorry I took your cat", she said.
(Brave Sir Robin)

For a minute, all I could do was stare at her gape-mouthed in the manner of a man seeing a ghost. Finally, I found my tongue.

"I'd invite you in for coffee, but everything is frozen".

'That's all right" she said "I like it iced now".

Over what can only be described as black coffee slushies, she told me the story of how she stole my cat and ran away to make her fortune as a curandera in the jungles of Bolivia. After nearly a year of sweltering heat and bugs, the only magic she had left was the cat's ability to freeze things. She could no longer produce the raised eyebrow of doom or break ear drums with her sarcastic cackle. When I asked her why she returned, the story got even more convoluted.

" After being run out of Bolivia, I found work at a brothel in Buenos Aires. By the way, your cat learned a few new tricks there. I suggest never saying the words frozen chicken in Spanish to him, you may not like the results. At the brothel I met this tango dancing hamster named Ruby. She told me that the only way I could get my powers back was to...( Red Queen)

I tag Varkentine, cause I think he has the right kind of pervy mind to continue this. Brandann cause Varkentine "doesn't do committee written stories"

More on the human tribe and apathy

Shakes has the horrific story of a 15 year old girl in Brazil who was thrown into a prison for men and gang raped for a month.

The standard response is "Why didn't anyone do something"

I will say right here- none of us knows what we would have done in that situation. The statistics show that most of us would have ignored it. Even if we think we would have done something, the chances are that we wouldn't have, and I am just as guilty despite my general concern and proggy tendencies.

So instead of lamenting the human condition and being outraged that nothing was done to help this girl, I want to know what do we do to change society so that helping is the standard response and ignoring the pain of others is the shameful response instead of the backwards way we have it now.

How poverty really works, and how sometimes the universe gives you presents

Three months ago, when I started classes, I stopped receiving food stamps. My income level is such that based on income alone, I am unequivocally eligible for the full amount of food stamps per month for 2 people.

But I had the gall, as a poor person, to get an education. And not just an education, but I was going for an academic degree. And people in academic programs are not eligible for food stamps.

If I had known my place and instead went for a technical certificate in something like medical assisting (a career where I would make less hourly than I do now) then I would have been eligible not only for food stamps but for a whole host of other programs.

With few exceptions*, technical and vocational programs do not lift people out of poverty permanently. They stave off poverty only as long as those skills are in high demand. And once the demand is met, those technical certificates are worth little.

So we have been without food stamps for three months. It is not a coincidence that those are the three moths I owe rent for. It was a choice. Feed the Kid or pay rent. That is the total of what my meager earning can provide. I chose feed the kid.

So now Christmas is looming along with an eviction. Payday isn't until Friday and my bank account is overdrawn. The cupboards and fridge are near bare and last night I had the Kid eat a super loaded baked potato for dinner. The last potato, actually. He was mortified that I was skipping dinner and kept trying to give me his potato. If he had known that I skipped lunch too, I don't think I could have gotten him to eat. After he went to bed, I had some celery and some chicken stock. I swear I'm not on some super restriction diet, though it sounds like it.

Today is the last day of class, and I filed for food stamps this morning. In a week or so, we can go to the grocery store and restock the cabinets (if there are cabinets to be stocked). In the mean time I just have to get through till Friday.

So I came into work today. On the last day of every quarter we have a big pot luck lunch, but I usually get here too late to get anything. The universe smiled on me today though, cause I have never seen such a spread in over four years here. I just loaded up a plate with turkey and potato salad and orzo salad with artichoke hearts and mashed potatoes and .......

I was planning on skipping lunch today too. I'm really glad I didn't have to.

*Exception- the program I work for actually teaches skills that people can use to start their own business. They have high earing potential straight after graduation. This is a program that was originally designed for a very male dominated field, which might explain why the income potential is higher than that of other vocational programs. We have a large population of female students and a very gender friendly campus.

Horrible Admissions

I admitted to liking a certain super trashy pop song over at the Pink place last week, so I thought you all should get your own admissions here to.

I, super chef and dinner party thrower extraodinaire, have some really heinous guilty pleasures when it comes to food.

1) Spicy pork rinds. They tear up my mouth and make my eyes water. And I love them.

2) Tostitos queso dip. It's velveta with hydrogenated pepper chunks in it. It's basically melted plastic. But it's really really good over chili cheese fritos.

3) Vienna Sausages. They are little salty meat sticks covered in an odd jelly slime. I eat these in the dark and make the Kid buy them so no one will see them in my possession .

Alright kids- I dished. I fully expect you all to share in comments. What food(s) are you ashamed to buy but love to eat?

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

The Human Tribe and some other stuff

Wonder and I had a giggly, manic phone conversation till the wee hours last night. Some highlights include:

The use of the southern y'all versus you guys. I don't like y'all, but I like the gender specific you guys even less. I have decided to use "you peeps" instead. It is gender neutral and has the added bonus conjuring up images of fluffy marshmallow chicks.

Our family has a very distinct way of speaking. I wasn't raised around my cousins and it wasn't until a few years ago that I started seeing them on what could be considered a regular basis. When I took my first 2 week long Christmas vacation to the family compound, I was weirded out by all these women who have the same squeaky voice as me, who use the same inflections as me, the same weird phrases as me. We say "I suppose" and "exxXactly" way too much.

Wonder and I were also talking about how people everywhere are racist. I think it's the tribal thing- we all want to categorize who belongs and who doesn't.

So from that thought- this morning I decided that if we really want to end global warming - we need to dress it up as a two headed alien with acid green skin. That way we can look at all the other humans and say "We are way more like each other than we are like the green monster" and get over ourselves.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Wanna make someone act like an asshole, tell them it's their job

There is a story going around the internets about a 22 year old woman who was gangraped by fellow KBR/Halliburton employees in Iraq. She was then thrown into a shipping container, refused medical treatment and told not to tell anyone. She only escaped because a sympathetic guard let her use his cell phone to call her dad.

Amanda wonders why the guard didn't do more. I don't. I know that it takes a very special type of psychology to be a "helper" in these cases where MOST people who are told they have a job to do would follow orders, even if those orders are morally repugnant. Study after study has shown that people who are doing a job will commit heinous act, the most notables being the Milgram experiment and the Stanford Prison Experiment, if it is part of their job. In the Stanford experiment only one person out of over 50 objected to the way the prisoners were being treated.

There are some specific traits to "helper" types, while there are no outstanding traits to those who would inflict pain. Helpers generally have a parent who was highly ethical and held them to high ethical expectations, they usually come from some kind of marginalized group like a religious minority and they have an adventurous spirit.

For everybody else, doing a job that you have been told to do is more important than how you feel about the job. There is a responsibility trade off. The actors give up moral responsibility, they are just doing what they are told, and take on the physical responsibility of the actual work of inflicting pain. When you give people in a group this kind of work, they are even less likely to question it than if you give it to an individual.

So while we may be horrified (I certainly am) at the behavior of the KRB men who raped this woman and their fellow employees who prevented her from getting help, it is not surprising. MOST of us would behave the same way in the same circumstances. And that is probably the saddest statement on the state of humanity that there is.

News from the home front

I have been under some major stress. About a week ago I got a legal notice from my landlord that they are trying to evict me. This same landlord has recently raised my rent without giving the required 60 days notice, (actually she gave it to me after the effective date of the rent increase with a note that said I owed x amount in back rent plus late fees) and I have been without cabinet doors in my kitchen or heat in my bedroom (okay, there is a heater but it's a fire hazard and not usable) for going on two years now.

Yep- I haven't paid my rent since October. Granted, I have no idea what my actual rent amount is since she raised it and despite being pretty damn patient I am not in the mood to spend another winter sleeping in the living room, effectively turning my two bedroom apartment into a one bedroom because it's too damn cold to sleep upstairs.

So I sent my little non-legalese response to her attorney. I don't know how this is going to turn out. Kid and I may end up homeless for Christmas. But just having sent in the response I feel better.

Wish me luck- I think it's going to be a bumpy ride.

They really don't pay me enough

So student I have never met before comes into the lab on the second to last day of the quarter to finish a project. He asks for help on the computer. No problem, that's my job.

Then- problem.
"Can you show me how to multiply these numbers?"
I go over, take a look, happy to help until I see that he is trying to do a spreadsheet in a drawing program. "No, you can't multiply in a drawing program, here's the calculator".

Five minutes later...

"Uhm, is there a better calculator?"


"This won't do percents, there's no percent sign".

Dear gawd- I am here to teach computers. I am not here to teach eight grade math. But I do.

"A percent is a part of a whole. There is never a percent sign on a calculator. You can multiply it by .15 to get 15 percent and then add that to the original number or you can multiply it by 1.15 and skip the adding part".

I am a shamelss thief

I think this is what they meant by rabbit.

Brandann should be posting this, since she sent it to me. But OMG! Funniest shit ever.

Go see this and then check out the other items people bought to go with it.

Lotto Shopping

Kid and I play the "If we won the lotto" game, a lot (when you have nothing, everything is a big dream- go with it).

So today we were playing the where would we travel game

Christmas in florida with the fam and a real trip to disneyworld

A visit to some silly girl in Hawaii that keeps stalking me on the internet in February

School trip (over 3000 per person) to Spain and France in march

Nate's (the Kid) regular Atlanta trip in July while Mommy goes and drinks wine in Hungary

Japan in August

Mexico to see Mayan ruins and for dias de los muertos in November

Then- cause I'm all inclusive and shit, I got Brandann involved (being that she is the crazy stalker in Hawaii- if I am planning an imaginary trip to visit her i should include her)

So here are a few more destinations:


Any other suggestions? I'd like to see the Hermitage in Russia, and London, and Rome is my favorite city ever.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Kid comes home

from the library and in his best imitation of a moaning whale yells


So of course I respond with






Maybe Hillary is OK

My insomniatic self is watching some Wall Street Journal Review (I think) show with Maria Barteromo interviewing Hillary about sub prime mortgages and tax breaks. When Barteromo starts whining about how repealing the Bush tax cuts will put pressure on people who are already stressed, Hillary cracked up before Maria could even finish the question. Her response , once she finished laughing, was "You're talking about people who are in the same tax bracket as Bill and I, and we aren't feeling the pressure".

That needs to be a media clip played over and over and over, every time a rethuglikan stars whining about taxes. Every single time.

Golden Compass- Anti-Catholic?

With all the hullabaloo surrounding this movie, I asked the Kid if he had read the book. Kid reads at least one novel per day, chances that he has read something are high. Turns out he's read the whole series, loves them and had The Golden Compass hiding in the filth pit he calls a bedroom.

So I read the book. Since I can't explain my thoughts without giving up the plot- stop reading now if you're the kind of person that doesn't want to know.

Lyra, the main character is an orphan living in an alternate England. In this universe, the Catholic Church runs the government through various councils and departments. The entire story is about the fight between theocracy and science and the idea of getting rid of original sin. It is very much a condemnation of theocracy and the way fear of the unknown makes people in a theocracy behave very badly.

If you're a raging Catholic biggot like Bill Donohue and have the ultimate dream of a Taliban style American theocracy run by Catholic bishops, this book is going to piss you off. There are three distinct reactions to fear of the unknown in this book- the first is to hurt and kill innocent children to protect people from the unknown, the second is to kill and innocent child in order to manipulate the unknown, and the last and only logical response is to figure out what it really is. If you are someone who is afraid of the truth, then this book will piss you off.

I can't wait to read the next book, Kid has promised to bring it home from the school library on Monday.