Step 1: Don't make them.





OMG, you're probably thinking, Katie has seriously been listening to us about how fucking long her blog posts are, and she just wrote one that was 4 words, a number, and a colon long! THANK YOU KATIE!

You're welcome!

Because FUN FACT, a human colon is about five feet long, which is how long this blog post is going to be if you printed it out on that continuous 80's printer paper.

raise your hand if this sight
brings back some serious memories
associated with squeez-its
bubble tape
and og nintendo
#supermariobros
Girl, you know I never use 6 words when I could use 6,000. Pull up a chair and take off your bra.

So why do I say no to New Year's Resolutions?

Let me answer my own rhetorical question with another rhetorical question!

How'd it go in 2012 when you were like, "This year I'm going to floss twice a day, every day!"

I know exactly how it went, because I was right by your side.

As soon as I made a promise to do something twice a day, every day, for the next 365 days, my inner wild pony goddess reared up and was like ALL GOOD THINGS ARE WILD AND FREE, fuck you Oral B, you can't shackle this stallioness with your minty wax chains, I don't care how many dentists out of 5 agree.

How about in 2015 when you were like, "This year I'm going to lose 10 pounds!"

I know exactly how it went, because I too made that vow.

On January 2 I went grocery shopping and bought my current weight in raw vegetables and brown rice. And then I went to the gym. And then I got a cheeseburger because fuck, y'all, I was starving. And life is too short to say no when your body whispers cheeeeeeeseburger.

There's nothing like a virtuous diet 
to make you appreciate the spiritual value of vice. 

Or as this conversation goes with Chicken:

Chicken: Mom, is cake good for your body?
Me: Not really, baby.
Chicken: But it's good for your soul, right?
Me:
my son


New Year's Resolutions force me to do the math between my immediate comfort and some imaginary long-term improvement to the spaces between my teeth or thighs. And I'm sorry to say that I have exactly enough character to give a shit about raising my children with values, but not quite enough to be voluntarily hungry, or to give a shit about flossing.

So I don't do New Year's Resolutions. I hate to start a new year by placing myself under a yoke. 

Instead, I do annual bucket lists.
And if you're interested, I invite you to do the same. 


A Bucket List is a list of experiences or goals you want to achieve before the coming year kicks the bucket.



HERE ARE FIVE REASONS BUCKET LISTS ARE BETTER THAN RESOLUTIONS:

1. You can check the box, baby.

So many New Year's Resolutions are progressive, continuous actions, rather than finite achievements. 

A list of resolutions is never fucking DONE. It's like, you either do this forever, or you fail. You either floss every day, or you are nothing more than a host body for a between-the-teeth-gunk colony. 

Have you ever seen those challenges on The Biggest Loser where the contestants have to like dangle from a construction crane until the last person is left? Raise your hand if you watch that and think, "funsies!" 

That's how I feel about New Year's Resolutions.

Everyone knows the only reason we all make lists is to cross shit off, so WHY ARE WE ALL MAKING LISTS THAT CAN NEVER BE CROSSED OFF??? CAN WE PLEASE GET A BOX TO CHECK ON THIS BITCH???

With a bucket list, you get to cross shit off!!! Like, sold. Do I even need to go on? 

OK I WILL GO ON!

2. Bucket List experiences are specific and finite, which means there's a window to commit to them, and it's not a death march to 2019.

Instead of having to do something every day for the next year, you say to yourself, "I want to do an Escape Room with my friends," and then you can do that for your birthday, or for your sister's birthday, or for no reason at all in the bottom of February when you just need something fun on a Tuesday. And then if you like it, you can go again, and if you hated it, you don't have some commitment that you've made to yourself hanging over your head. 

What if you resolved to do tai chi once a week for the next year, and then 3 classes in you were like, "Nope, I need kickboxing." It's not a big deal to change a resolution, but what if the kickboxing classes are too early in the morning and you just stopped going? 

You'd have to choose between:

a) gritting your teeth through a year of tai chi to prove you have character
b) quitting your resolution and proving you failed and have no character. 

If you don't like tai chi it's totally fine! Put it on your bucket list to try it out, and give yourself an experience that you can either enjoy or not, without adding the weight of a false litmus test for your value as a human being. We already have tax forms, bathroom scales, and ungrateful children - we don't need more litmus tests for our value as human beings.

3. A bucket list is respectful of yourself. 

Invite yourself to a party. It's way kinder than giving yourself a honey-do list.

A list of resolutions is a reminder of everything you've failed to be up to this point in your life: thin, rich, spiritual, well-read, dentally hygenic.

A list of resolutions is a list of all the ways you've decided you are deficient. It's a list of solutions to parts of yourself that you've decided are problems. It's a year's worth of trips to the spiritual hardware store on Sunday morning, and that shit sucks.

A bucket list is an opportunity to ask yourself what you want, hear yourself respond, and then honor that response. You're not punishing yourself; you're respecting yourself. Can I get a hell yes?

With a bucket list, you get to indulge in experiences that are just as challenging, rewarding, and healthy as the things you might have done with your resolutions. The only difference is that you're EXCITED about your bucket list. You're not doing the things you think you're supposed to do; you're deciding to do the things that you WANT to do. That's a pretty huge difference, IMHO.

4. A bucket list gives you room to grow.

If the point of New Year's Resolutions is to urge your growth and change, then why are we trying to do the same fucking thing for a whole year? If your resolutions are effective, shouldn't we be doing different things by the end of 12 months of practice?

You might start the year super into trail running to the sound of your own breath, and end the year 100% committed to riding the stationary bike while watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and you know what, those are both interesting and valuable uses of your time. YEAH I SAID IT. 

5. 2018 may not be much better than 2017. Find joy and take care of yourself.

2017 was... it was... well, honestly, it was just...


but it was also like


and


and



and we were all like


and


and just trying to get the fuck to midnight on the 31st like

almost...
there...


You don't deserve to start 2018 with a catalogue of your faults.

You deserve to start the new year hungry for adventure, opportunity, and growth. 

You deserve a chance to remember that you're brave, smart, capable, resourceful, and strong.

A bucket list recognizes that you are valuable, that your time is worth something, that you are a person in progress, that your delight in the experience of life is a fucking factor here.

A bucket list invites you to do something fantastic, rather than indebting you to become a slightly less craptastic version of yourself.



Not sure where to start?
Here are some questions to ask.

What makes your life smaller? Knock it down.

Quick side story! Mine used to be a phobia of rats. A literal phobia. I wouldn't let my kids play in parks where I'd seen a rat. If I ever saw one on the street, I couldn't ever go down that street again. Rats made my life smaller and my commute longer. 

Someday I'll tell you about my rat phobia therapy homework, but until then just know that I saw a rat at the zoo with my kids and my legs didn't go numb and we didn't have to leave right away, and that shit was sweet.

What do you do that makes you feel strong? Do that more. A strength isn't just something you do well. I'm good at sales but it leaves me feeling drained. A strength is something you do that makes you feel strong. What do you do that makes you feel strong? That's your strength.

What is something you used to do that you loved and you don't do anymore? Find a way to do it, even if just a little. When we had kids our world got smaller and smaller until we found ourselves making long lists of things we couldn't do anymore because we'd successfully bred smaller, pickier, less sleepy versions of ourselves. Fuck that noise. You may not be able to go to Hawaii for a week and have a nooner and a nap every day, but you can have a nooner and a nap once a month, right? Or maybe one month the nooner, the next month the nap? This is depressing, the point is that the things you loved from your old life aren't gone until you decide they're gone. Don't let them go! 

Whose story haven't you heard? Go hear it. I've also heard this said, "Who do you think you're better than? Go listen to them." Humble and curious are sexy, sexy things to be.

What pisses you off? Get started fixing it. I could be talking about the "old friend" whose posts on FB put your panties directly in a full twist position, or the junk drawer that doesn't really close anymore. I could be talking about unlawful detention centers where undocumented immigrants and held for indeterminate periods of time under inhuman conditions with no legal protections or rights.

What's fucking fun? Do that and don't be sorry!


If you still need more ideas, I'll be posting my own 2018 bucket list on my FB page on the first day of the new year. 

And in the meantime, here are a few of my past bucket list experiences that have been memorable, exciting, rewarding, you-name-it:
  • Have a spa day 
  • Take a rock-climbing class
  • Do a ropes course
  • Ride a roller coaster
  • Read 5 works of fiction and 5 works of nonfiction
  • Watch 5 movies from the IFC's best movies list that I've never seen before
  • Buy a case of sparkling water every week at the grocery store (I love sparkling water, but I used to only buy it for company. Then one night my inner wild pony goddess came to me one night in a dream and told me that I was a goddess and I deserved bubble water. But just the store brand. Come on girl, you're a goddess, not a millionaire.)
  • Spend an hour reading a book on the beach
  • Try 5 new cuisines
  • Take a writing class
  • Join a sports team or league
  • Attend a political meeting, rally, or protest
  • Join a community org in a substantive way (not just casual volunteering)
  • Attend an Oscar party
  • Run a marathon
  • Order fish in a restaurant (I've been a vegetarian since I was 10, so this was a big deal!)
  • Go to the dentist twice (Listen, you only get just the two sets, and I ran through my first one by the time I was 14. I gotta make these little pearlies last.)

What are you putting on your bucket list in 2018? 



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So here's a question!



If you plate and serve your own shit, do you get an extra tip?

Morgan Spurlock sure seems to think so.

If you're Morgan fucking Spurlock and you write a blog post preempting any accusations you feel could possibly be made against you, do you get, like, a pass from the world to continue to operate under the radar of both human attention and social relevance?

Shit, sorry, was that mean?

Oh that's right. Yes it was, and no, I don't care.

I'm not fucking surprised that Morgan had a shitty sexual encounter in college in which he assumed that a no 5-minutes ago means a yes right now. I'm not fucking surprised that he thought "sex pants" was a funny cool nickname for a human woman in his office. And while I think that's all textbook bullshit, it's hard to summon outrage over boring fucking everyday Chadlife.

What, do I also howl at the moon when I step on the Lego blocks scattered like tiny shards of volcanic glass next to the dishwasher? It's a fucking Lego block in my kitchen. If I'm mad about the Lego it's because deep down I know that I didn't take the necessary steps (literally) to protect myself.

Think about that, Morgan. I'm not mad about your shitty behavior because I believe it is part of your core identity, your structure as you move through the world. Think about that.

I'm not mad you did what you did. I am mad about your fucking "APOLOGY."

Bust out the shovels, bitches. This one's a doozie.

Because here's the fucking question:

Does it matter WHEN in the timeline of your shitty behavior you first reveal said shitty behavior, and then immediately blame 7 other things for it?

Somebody call the Hidden Figures ladies because that math doesn't fucking add up.

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
eah no

Let's take a closer look at Spurlock's blog post, shall we?

I am Part of the Problem

by Morgan Spurlock
and Katie Anthony
hi guys
yeah
I'm gonna be reading along with you here
identifying the chunks in this paper sack of raccoon dumpster vomit

(I added line breaks to his post in order to make it easier to read in this "call-and-response" format, but I didn't change any of the text.)


As I sit around watching hero after hero, 
man after man, fall at the realization of their past indiscretions, 
I don’t sit by and wonder “who will be next?” 
I wonder, “when will they come for me?”

OK so right off the bat, "hero?" Are we calling them heroes? 

Also, describing "heroes" as committing "indiscretions," is like describing Charles Manson as a "visionary" with "quirks." The sanitization of your language is insulting and you need to be fucking honest right now:

As I sit around watching man after man face fair and just consequences for their past abuses and assaults of women, I don't sit by and wonder "who will be next?" I wonder, "When will they come for me?"

Also, bold choice to admit that your first thought when hundreds of women began coming forward telling stories of humiliation and abuse was "But what about ME?"

You see, I’ve come to understand after months of these revelations, 

that I am not some innocent bystander, I am also a part of the problem.


Nobody said you were an innocent bystander. Also, it took you months to remember what you did in college and at your office 8 years ago? Stop lying. You knew right away what you'd done and what could happen to you if people began to tell the truth about you. What you came to understand after months of hiding was 2 things: First, Weinstein wasn't a one-off, and that meant you were in deep shit. Second, that there might just be a way for you to play this where you look like only a 30% piece of shit, rather than a 99% piece of shit.


I’m sure I’m not alone in this thought, 

but I can’t blindly act as though I didn’t somehow play a part in this, 

and if I’m going truly represent myself as someone who has built a career on finding the truth, then it’s time for me to be truthful as well.

Stop telling me about your illustrious truth-telling career and start apologizing.

I am part of the problem.

Over my life, there have been many instances 

that parallel what we see everyday in the news. 

I have changed the diapers of two infant sons with testicles like the most velvety souffles in Paris. BUT THIS BALL? SOFTER.

Are you trying to say that you have behaved abominably many times over your life? Because being an asshole doesn't parallel assholes. It's just exactly the same thing, actually. 

It's like if Richard Spencer was like, "Over my life, there have been many instances that parallel what you might see in archival footage of Klan meetings from the 1950's." 

Or if Richard Simmons was like, "Over my life, there have been many instances that parallel what you see everyday on Sweating to the Oldies." 

I believe the word you're looking for isn't "parellel," but rather, "identical," or possbily even "RESPONSIBLE." 


When I was in college, a girl who I hooked up with on a one night stand accused me of rape.
Not outright.
There were no charges or investigations,
but she wrote about the instance in a short story writing class
and called me by name.
A female friend who was in the class told be about it afterwards.

"I'll call it a hook up and a one-night stand so everyone knows how chill and casual and like mutually understood it was. It wasn't a RAPEY rape! Goodness, no! It wasn't so rapey that she TOLD anyone about it! Except through writing the story in her own words about me, identified specifically by name, and sharing it with her class. But it's important that you note that I HAD A FEMALE FRIEND! And she was totally on my team because she told me about it."

I was floored. 
Wait, I thought this was an apology, Morgan. 

See, okay, yeah, this can be tricky. 


This sounds more like what you might call a "defense." More specifically, this appears to be morphing into a "chickenshit defense," which is where you make your eyes as big as possible and fan yourself a lot and express shock that some silly goose thought you hurt her one time (girls can be such flibbertigibbets about understanding what happens INSIDE THEIR VAGINAS.) 

“That’s not what happened!” I told her.

This wasn’t how I remembered it at all.

In my mind, we’d been drinking all night and went back to my room.

We began fooling around, she pushed me off,

then we laid in the bed and talked and laughed some more,

and then began fooling around again.

We took off our clothes.

She said she didn’t want to have sex,

so we laid together, and talked, and kissed, and laughed,
and then we started having sex.
So, okay, if we can just track this out, beat by beat:
1. You're drinking all night.
2. You start hooking up.
3. She pushes you off.
4. You wait a little bit.
5. You start hooking up again.
6. She says "I don't want to have sex."
7. You wait another minute.
8. You start having sex with her.

Math check?

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
eah fuck that
“Light Bright,” she said.

“What?”

“Light bright. That kids toy, that’s all I can see and think about,”

she said … and then she started to cry.

I didn’t know what to do.

We stopped having sex and I rolled beside her.

I tried to comfort her. To make her feel better.

I thought I was doing ok, I believed she was feeling better.

She believed she was raped.

OK so real quick I'm going to get a good handful of your fucking ear and you'll say "Don't rip off my ear," so I'll let it go and we'll LAUGH for a little while, and then I'll grab your fucking ear again and rip it off the side of your head.

And then I'll pat your cheek. Super gently. Like the gentlest gentleman. You should be feeling better at this point. 

You might BELIEVE I just ripped your ear off. But clearly, honey, you do not understand your own ear and its presence or lack thereof on the side of your fucking head. 

When you tell people I ripped your ear off I'll just tell them how FLOORED I am and then explain to you, "THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED."

Good? We good? Sound like a good plan?


That’s why I’m part of the problem.


HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

oh my god



Yes! It IS why you're part of the problem!

But the hilarious thing is.... 



... that you don't seem to understand...



that when you frame this story as a he-said-she-said



and describe your experience of having sex with her after she explicitly said "no sex" as an event where you "tried to make her feel better"



AND THEN



THEN! You compare YOUR perception of what YOU did

to HER perception of what YOU did

TO HER



WITHOUT EVER FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGING THAT YOU FUCKING DID SOMETHING WRONG!


THAT

IS

THE

ENTIRE

PROBLEM.


Then there was the time I settled a sexual harassment allegation at my office.
This was around 8 years ago,
and it wasn’t a gropy feely harassment.
It was verbal, and it was just as bad.

"I'll call it an allegation so everyone knows how much she lied about it. It wasn't a GROPEY harassment! Goodness, no!" 

If your harassment was truly just as bad, then you don't need to assert it as if we were OBVIOUSLY going to hear you say that you verbally harassed someone at work and say, "Well was it gropey? Then what's the big deal??? SHEESH!"

I would call my female assistant “hot pants” or “sex pants”
when I was yelling to her from the other side of the office.
Something I thought was funny at the time,
but then realized I had completely demeaned and belittled her
to a place of non-existence.

Uh huh. And at what point did you realize this. 

Was it... was it 5 minutes ago? Was it when you started writing this "apology" in the hopes that it would win you friends and influence people? Was it when you asked your Reddit Troll Bridge buddies, "Ugh, bros, need help. What do you think women WANT me to say about feeling remorse for calling my assistant hot pants?"


So, when she decided to quit, she came to me

and said if I didn’t pay her a settlement,

she would tell everyone.

Being who I was, it was the last thing I wanted, so of course, I paid.

I paid for peace of mind. I paid for her silence and cooperation.

Most of all, I paid so I could remain who I was.

"It wasn't so icky that she TOLD anyone about it! Except me. But clearly, I do not fucking count. Also, notice that she demanded money. So that gold-digger DID FINE, OKAY. Honestly, I don't think her dignity and personhood was worth QUITE that much, but I'm Morgan Fucking Spurlock okay, I could afford it. 

If I have to pay out some bullshit apology it's totally worth it SO I CAN REMAIN THE MAGNIFICENT BASTARD THAT I AM WAS. WAS. Past tense. Not now. That's not what I'm doing right now. Goodness no! This is totally sincere."


I am part of the problem.

And then there’s the infidelity.

I have been unfaithful to every wife and girlfriend I have ever had.

Over the years, I would look each of them in the eye and proclaim my love

and then have sex with other people behind their backs.

Cheating isn't raping or sexually harassing. It's shitty but it's a different brand of shitty than what you're ostensibly apologizing for here, which is a rape in college and sexual harassment of your assistant.

When you equate cheating with actual crimes, you diminish the offensiveness of the crimes. 




I hurt them. And I hate it. But it didn’t make me stop.
The worst part is, I’m someone who consistently hurts those closest to me.
From my wife, to my friends, to my family, to my partners & co-workers.
I have helped create a world of disrespect through my own actions. 

"I have helped create a world of disrespect through my own actions," is the only fucking line worth reading in this entire "apology." 

And I am part of the problem. 


But why? What caused me to act this way? Is it all ego?

Or was it the sexual abuse I suffered as a boy and as a young man in my teens?

Abuse that I only ever told to my first wife,

for fear of being seen as weak or less than a man?


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

I am terribly sorry to hear that you were abused as a boy and a young man. Sexual abuse is devastating. You didn't deserve that as a child or an adolescent. Your pain is real and I'm sorry that you have to carry that burden. I sincerely hope that you are able to find peace through therapy, support, and a lot of hard and painful work.

But to answer your question: What caused you to act this way?

You did. You caused you to act this way.

Your pain is not insignificant. But if your pain is in the driver's seat when you're raping a woman and verbally abusing your assistant, then you need to get the fuck out of that car.

We all make mistakes. But we are also all responsible for the consequences of those mistakes. Anybody who promised you different was probably one of your "heroes." You know, the ones with "indiscretions."

Is it because my father left my mother when I was child?
Or that she believed he never respected her,
so that disrespect carried over into their son? 

No. It's because you did those things. It's because you decided to do them and then you did them.

You are like a raccoon vomiting old yogurt on me right now and I resent the shit out of it. 

This is your mess. You need to clean it up. This is not my fucking job. It's not your college hook-up's job. It's not your assistant's job. It's not even your dad's job.

Or is it because I’ve consistently been drinking since the age of 13?
I haven’t been sober for more than a week in 30 years,
something our society doesn’t shun or condemn 
but which only served to fill the emotional hole inside me
and the daily depression I coped with. Depression we can’t talk about,
because its wrong and makes you less of a person. 

MAGNIFICENT change of subject from your own actions to alcoholism and depression, two things that are beyond your control. That is what sexual predators-slash-politicans call a PIVOT.

"What was I supposed to do? Not rape people and get help for my addiction? I am an alcoholic. And I think I speak for the whole alcoholic community when I say I'm pretty sure it's like step 4 where women might think we're raping them but we're really just shitfaced and not listening to them say "no sex" and then doing sex and then being confused about what happened. It's one of the 12 steps. I think it's 4. 4 feels right." 

"What was I supposed to do? Stop sexually harassing my assistant and go get some goddamn therapy? I WAS DEPRESSED. Everyone knows depressed people are the best at inappropriately sexual workplace nicknames. What, do I just reject the gift that my depression gave me? HER PANTS WERE HOT!"

Again, I am so genuinely sorry to hear about your struggles with alcoholism and depression. 

But this is a letter about you taking responsibility for your actions. 

If I punch you in the face and then tell the story about the time a man slipped his hand all the way down the back of my jeans in a bar in New York, does that make your black eye somehow fucking okay? No. It makes me someone who is focused on creating my own character in this story, rather than acknowledging my fucking actions and their consequences.

And the sexual daliances? Were they meaningful?
Or did they only serve to try to make a weak man feel stronger. 

I don’t know. None of these things matter

when you chip away at someone

and consistently make them feel like less of a person.

I am part of the problem. We all are.

Nope, just you.

Strike "we" from any apology you ever write. Unless you are a conjoined twin. Then it's fine.

But I am also part of the solution.

Oh hell no.

By recognizing and openly admitting what I’ve done
to further this terrible situation,
I hope to empower the change within myself.
We should all find the courage to admit we’re at fault.

BUT YOU DIDN'T DO THAT. 

You found the courage to tell your side of a rape story, tell us how funny you are in the office and how your gold-digging assistant couldn't take the joke, blame your dad, alcoholism, and depression, and then wrap it up by assuring us that YOU ARE PART OF THE SOLUTION NOW, before CONGRATULATING YOURSELF ON YOUR FUCKING COURAGE.



PLEASE DO NOT BE PART OF THE SOLUTION. 

Instead, go to the hills. Run with the wild horses until you are very, very tired. Too tired to talk. Definitely too tired to blog. And then go directly to a hospital and demand they give you fluids and lock you in a room with a team of mental health experts and every single memoir ever written by a woman because THEY ALL HAVE FUCKERS LIKE YOU IN THEM.


More than anything, I’m hopeful that I can start to rebuild the trust

and the respect of those I love most.

I'm not sure I deserve it, but I will work everyday to earn it back.


WOAH you are just jumping right to the end, huh? 

Like we wouldn't even notice, huh?

You're like, brushing the dirt off your knees calling quitting time and it's fucking 8:03 am.

Morgan. You have not even begun to work toward the RIGHT to ASK for a CHANCE to APOLOGIZE yet, much less get to work on rebuilding trust.

It's like you think you're standing around the campfire surrounded by friendly Ewoks at the end of The Return of the Jedi.

there's kevin spacey on the left

harvey right there in the middle
in his robe
standard

and on the right there's charlie rose
he's trying a beard
i think it works for him

You think the journey is over. But do you know where you are?

okay
no
but right before the first part
the "a long time ago" part
the part where it's just a black screen
that's where you are


I will do better. I will be better. I believe we all can.

AGAIN WITH THE WE! Who else did the things you did to the people to whom you did the things?

TRICK QUESTION, M SPURL. It's you.

The only individual I have control over is me. 
So starting today, I’m going to be more honest with you and myself. 
I’m going to lay it all out in the open. 
Maybe that will be a start. Who knows. 
But I do know I've talked enough in my life ... I'm finally ready to listen

Well first of all. 

When crafting your apology, do not --

I repeat!

-- DO NOT LIFT LOUIS C.K.'S LINE AS YOUR CLOSER. Unless he's your #hero. In which case, thanks for making it crystal clear exactly who I am dealing with right now.

If you want to listen, I have a lot fucking more to say, so if you're in the mood you can always just ping me. 


___


Morgan's post signals a shift.

WE HAVE OFFICIALLY ENTERED PHASE 2 OF THE PURGE.

Phase 1 was when men hid from us, and we found them.

They were raccoons in our garbage. We pulled on our leather gloves and tough bitch boots and got the fuck in the dumpster and hauled them out, hissing and clawing.

And for the first time in our lives, when we dragged their stank-asses to the fucking raccoon kennel the guys working there were like, "Yep, definitely a raccoon. No question. Please sign here and we will tell everyone what a fucking raccoon this is."

Phase 1 was when we told our stories and people actually fucking believed us and we were like, for real? And people were like, yeah that's unacceptable he's fired.

And we were like daaaang! #metoo is better than the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser! That was significantly less shitty than it would have been 4 months ago!*

* Except for working-class people whose bosses aren't newsworthy, and so therefore neither is their bullshit
** And women who accused our Dear Leader
*** And women who accused Roy Moore
**** Listen, the problem is not even fucking close to solved but
***** We have taken a step in the right direction
****** or actually maybe we just leaned in the right direction.
******* We're definitely looking in the right direction. Like, really hard.
******** With side-eye. Can't look straight at it. It might get skittish and run.
********* #ThingsJusticeHasInCommonWithSquirrels

nooooooooooooooooooo


wait


nooooooooooooooooooooooo


BUT ANYWAY.

Phase 2 is when shit's gonna get mad tricky for us again.

Because as Morgan "The Rotten-Yogurt-Covered-Raccoon" Spurlock has just shown us, sometimes the raccoon doesn't wait in the dumpster to be found. Sometimes he climbs out because he knows it's only a matter of time. And he walks up to you, and barfs up the rotten yogurt all over you.

In phase 2, a man will come forward proactively to confess his sins.

He will come forward in the hopes that he will receive our mercy. He will come forward in the hopes that because he so generously spared us the pain of calling him out, we will be kind to him. He will come forward in the hopes that there will be a cookie for him.

But there will be no mercy. There will be no kindness. There will definitely not be a cookie.

Because he just barfed old yogurt on us. To prove how sad he is that he fucking eats garbage, he barfed his garbage ON US.

How is this apology any fucking different from the way Morgan Spurlock expelled sexual objectification on his assistant?

How is this apology any fucking different from the way he projectile vomited his horny bullshit onto the body of the woman in college, and then he was like, "I thought she was okay, but she thought she had been barfed on. Agree to disagree I guess. I mean, was there barf? Technically, yes. And did I barf said barf? Again... technically. But did I mention that my dad left when I was a baby?"

I'm not a baby bird and this vomit doesn't do shit for me except remind me that it's apparently my fucking job to both admire your puke puddles and then take responsibility for cleaning them up.

And to that I say NO, MORGAN. NO. THAT IS YOUR JOB NOW.

It's our job to read these apologies and recognize the shitty ones.

It is our job not to confuse an admission of guilt with an expression of remorse.

We've gotta be hard on them.

Phase 1 was when we said, "That fucking hurt me," and they said, "Oh! I didn't mean to!"

Phase 2 is when we need to resist the unconscious impulse to say, "It's okay."

Phase 2 is when we need to say, "I don't fucking care what you meant to do. That fucking hurt me. Do better."

It's not fucking okay, and it's extra not-okay when Morgan Spurlock comes out with a non-apology, apropos of nothing except an instinct for self-preservation and the hope that he can steer public opinion away from disgust and toward pity, as long as he stays ahead of the story.

The good news is that I do pity him. But I do not accept this apology. Do better.