stop me if you've heard this one
School bus driver
School bus driver who
(His name is Shane Piche, in case you Googled him because he’s applying for a job.)
What do you call a child’s body?
Nacho Fucking Business.
Why did the teenage girl cross the road?
To avoid having to walk by the man who locked her in a dog cage in his basement, starved her, and raped her repeatedly for more than a year!
(His name is Michael Ren Wysolovski, in case you Googled him because he invited you over for Netflix and chill.)
She has to cross the road because, wait, sorry, I didn’t say this part, he’s not going to prison.
Like, not at all.
He got 9 years and 4 months of probation.
He probably saw the Avengers movie last weekend.
Why shouldn’t you depend on the justice system to treat girls as if their lives matter, or write with a broken pencil?
Because it’s pointless.
What does the 36-year-old sex offender who raped a 15-year-old girl in 2015, attempted to lure a 13-year-old into sex in 2016, and gave drugs to kids at an elementary school in 2016, order from Starbucks?
A Tai Chi latte.
It’s funny because HE LITERALLY FUCKING SAID THAT HE’S BEEN TRANSFORMED BY TAI CHI, and also because instead of being in prison, he’s serving 5 years probation while doing Tai Chi in a public park where young girls walk around. Not to worry though. He’s transformed now.
(His name is Seth Nicholas Comstock, in case you’re Googling him because he applied to volunteer with your daughter’s Girl Scout troop.)
What did one rapist say to the other rapist?
You look flushed.
Because they’re both toilets.
What’s black and white and not in prison?
White rapists in black jeans.
What’s black and white and totally in prison?
Black mothers who enrolled their children in predominantly white schools.
Thanks to the reader who reminded me of this grotesque fuckedupittude.
What do judges in rape cases and golfers have in common?
They both love a Mulligan.
Wait, stop me if you’ve heard this one:
A mother is dropping her daughter off at college. She gives her a huge hug and says, “Have fun. Study hard. Make new friends. And remember what I taught you.”
The daughter rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
“Tell me,” says the mom.
“If he tries to get me into his car, I should explode and scream every foul word I can think of no matter how strange it sounds because he won’t expect me to fight and it’s better to die fighting by the side of the road than to get in the car with him because once he gets me in the car my odds of survival are basically zero.”
“And… oh, if he does get me in the car and I’m in the passenger seat, try to roll out when he slows down for a turn. If I’m in the trunk, pull out wires, search for an emergency release, scream and kick any time I feel the vehicle slowing down. Oh, and no matter what, try to bite and scratch him and pull out his hair because even if he does kill me, at least I’ll be covered in his DNA so maybe they’ll be able to find him, but only if he’s already in the system and only if they actually test the samples on my body. It’s a long shot but it’s better than nothing.”
“That’s my smart girl.”
In conclusion and in all seriousness, I didn’t write this for women because women already know.
I wrote this for men who honestly don’t know why women get so jumpy, prickly, defensive, nervous, move in packs, hold their keys, text their friends, ask for your last name, lock every door, pick women doctors, look forward to voting for women politicians, and teach their daughters how to die most effectively.
We are all we have.
And we’ve been saying that shit to you for at least as long as I’ve been alive and I have a sneaking suspicion that the conversation predates me by at least a few years, too. Still, in the last week, these are just a handful of the stories read by the women you see every day. Still, every day, another story tells us just how little we matter, how safe we are not, how much we need help and all the people we cannot rely on to provide it.
We’ve been sharing facts and begging and ranting and screaming so today I thought fuck it, let’s surprise ‘em today. Let’s make ‘em laugh.
Did you laugh?
Or have you already heard that one?