Saturday, April 13, 2013
Wanda Sykes
I love this routine, because it’s not a rape joke. It’s a rape culture joke. It’s not making fun of the people who have been raped, but of both rape culture (not being able to just jog because it’s not safe) but of the idea that the only thing of value in a woman is her vagina.
What a mom :)
A Mom went to have dinner with her son who lives with his roommate.
During the course of the meal, his mother couldn’t help but notice how handsome his roommate was. She had been suspicious about her sons sexuality but being a good mother she felt that he would let her know if and when the time was right but seeing the two together just made her more curious.
Over the course of the evening, while watching the interaction between the two she wondered even more if there was more here than meets the eye. Her son, sensing his mothers watchfully eye volunteered, “really Mom, I can tell what you’re thinking and you can just get it out of your mind, we are just roommates and nothing more”.
About a week later the roommate remarked, “ever since your mother was here the silver serving platter has been missing, do you think she took it?”
He responded, “Well I’m sure she didn’t but I will email her and ask just to be sure” he sat down and wrote:
Hey Mom
I’m not saying you did take the silver platter from the house and I am not saying you didn’t take it but the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love,
Your Son.
A couple days later he got a response from his mother:
Dear Son,
I am not saying that you do sleep with your roommate and I am not saying that you don’t sleep with him and you know I love you and could care less either way but the fact remains that if he was sleeping in his own bed he would have found the platter under his pillow.
When are the two of you coming for dinner?
Love,
Mom
read this as a Mary Winchester + Destiel AU not even sorry
Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was.
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| This story has a special place in my heart. |
Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.
To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs.
Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat!!”
All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.
Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.
Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought.
Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear - Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.
At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.
Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly.
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