scandal – The View from a Drawbridge

Deprogramming Myself from Dan Price’s Cult of Personality

Yet another bubble burst.

When I first heard about the Dan Price scandal and started writing this blog post about it, its title was going to be, “No Freakin’ Way!” Then, I started to read up on it, and I decided to change the title to, “Say It Isn’t So, Please”.

And then I read the article in the New York Times.

At first I read it with shock, thinking that the Times isn’t usually up for an all-out vicious attack on someone. They are usually more measured in their reporting. But by the time I finished the article, and read the quotes from something like 75 sources, I realized that there were too many allegations, too many accusations, too many lawsuits, and too many stories for me to continue to deny that they don’t all hold at least a kernel of truth. And given how despicable the stories are, even a kernel of truth is enough to put me off Dan Price for good.

That leaves me wondering how to cope with my sadness and disappointment. I really wanted to believe that the public persona Dan had worked so hard to promote was real. I wanted to believe that there could actually be a rich guy out there who spoke out against corporate greed and corruption. I wanted to think that maybe there was someone in power who actually gave a crap about the little guy. I’d never seen that before, and I wanted it to be true so badly that I fell entirely into Dan Price’s thrall. It’s no comfort at all that so many women have done the same and lived to regret it.

Way back in 2015, I wrote a glowing blog post entitled, Dan Price: Man of my Freakin’ Dreams. And I meant every word of it. Now I read that post and I cringe. But I won’t take it down, because it will forever be a reminder to me to never, ever fall for the branding.

Back then, Dan reduced his million-dollar salary in order to give all his employees a raise to at least $70,000 a year. Every single one, right down to the guy who mops the floors at night. And since then, that figure has increased to somewhere around 80k to 100k, depending on what source you read. I mean, who does that?

Dan Price does. And that’s laudable. I can still stand by that, at least. But that’s not a get out of jail free card for rape, domestic violence, and emotional abuse. And if it turns out that it was just a show to get out of a lawsuit with his brother, as is credibly laid out in this Bloomberg article from 2015, then even that good act came from a bad place.

While doing research for this post, I came across a Facebook post that I wrote nearly a year after my blog post that I mentioned above, in which I gave its link and gushed, “Omigod, a friend went to see this guy at some public speaking event, and I jokingly told her to have him read this blog entry, and she DID! And he DID! He thanked me and said he hoped we’d get to meet some day.”

With hindsight, that Facebook post seems as surreal to me as the current situation. I doubt seriously that the man stood there at that busy event and took the time to read my blog post. Oddly enough, I have no memory of that conversation, or even whom I had it with. But it was obvious that I had stars in my liberal eyes. Now I can see that I was a total fangirl, and I’m nauseated by that realization.

For me back then, Dan was the guy who proved that you can walk the talk and actually prosper while at the same time not grinding your employees down to a mere shadow of their former selves. (You’ll never see Jeff Bezos doing that. Amazon warehouse employees are treated like crap.) But Dan impressed the hell out of me. He led me to conclude that he was a guy who cared about people.

I convinced myself that he had proven that it really is possible to fix capitalism. I’m sure that had a lot of corporate fat cats on edge. They don’t want to be forced to do the right thing. They don’t want to think of anyone but themselves. I was sure that those rich white men would love nothing better than to see Dan Price disappear. (That reminds me of an art installation I saw when I lived in Holland. It was an electronic marquee that said, over and over again, “If you behaved nicely, the Communists wouldn’t exist.”)

I allowed myself to think that Dan was being targeted by someone very rich who was probably paying people off to say these horrible things about my hero. I was still trying to believe that this whole mess was pure fabrication. I comforted myself with that theory for a few days. Because, you know, he really did give those raises. He did.

But in order to write this post, which I thought would be full of righteous indignation, I had to first do my homework. I started off by reading these articles:

They were not particularly credible in my eyes. I refused to allow them to be true. I was still allowing myself to stay in Dan Price’s cult of personality, where I felt safe and where everything was so warm and fuzzy. Without that faith in mankind, where would I go? What would I do?

But as the evidence mounted, I tried to tell myself that maybe this good guy just snapped under all the pressure. (As if that would be a valid excuse.) Being a poster child for anything at the age of 38, after having been sued by your own brother for doing the right thing (as I thought that situation had played out at the time, based, in retrospect, solely on Dan’s version of events), and his not knowing who his friends truly are anymore, must come with a great deal of stress. At the very least, it’s a safe bet that Thanksgiving dinner in the Price household is somewhat tense.

“Poor little rich boy,” My inner voice whispered to me.

But I wasn’t ready to escape the cult just yet. For me, Dan symbolized what is possible if you have integrity and morality and decency. He made me believe that the world could turn around if enough good people did good things. Maybe this big blue greedball on which we all live could alter its trajectory and stop hurtling straight toward the fiery sun. It could happen.

Why would anyone want to give up on that faith in mankind? I clung to it like a drowning man clings to flotsam. I really didn’t want to let go.

Next, I came across a whole series of articles by a guy named Doug Forbes. He had written them over the space of several years. Each one was a damning opinion piece about Dan Price.

But, you know, I tend to take opinion pieces with a grain of salt. I wanted truth, not opinions. This guy was saying he talked to dozens of people, but he did not cite any of them, except, I think, Dan’s ex-wife, who, I told myself, was probably bitter. And this guy Forbes, I told myself, must hate Dan for whatever reason, and he’s given himself this forum to spew his speculations into cyberspace.

I told myself that the accusations against Dan were so disgusting and extreme that the charges had to be trumped up, right? I mean, who resorts to waterboarding a woman? Who drowns a dog in a swimming pool? Who rapes women in their sleep and emotionally abuses employees? (Well, actually, a lot of men do that last bit. But not the good men, right?)

But, just as with so many other cult members who start to wake up, a lot of conflicting thoughts were running through my head.

He’s such a nice guy! This can’t be true! At that point my inner voice was whispering, “But you used to think that about Bill Cosby back in the day, didn’t you?”

There are some sick people in this world, and that’s a fact. I just didn’t want Dan Price to be one of them. Not that guy.

During my research, I kept seeing links to the New York Times article about him. When I’d click on it, I’d get their website, and a few tantalizing sentences, but in order to see more I’d have to subscribe. I have a great deal of respect for the New York Times, but I didn’t want Dan Price to be the reason I got a subscription. Instead, a friend (Hi Tracy!) was kind enough to gift me the article from her subscription. (If you know someone with a subscription, they are allowed to “gift” 10 articles per month to people. It’s perfectly legitimate.)

I read the entire article, and any fantasies that rich white fat cats had created this scandal to destroy Dan Price’s squeaky clean reputation fell by the wayside. In retrospect I can’t even imagine why I entertained such a fantasy to begin with. I don’t believe in conspiracies, because large groups of human beings find it impossible to keep secrets, and those evil rich men would have had to find nearly a hundred people who would be willing to lie about Dan for money.

Impossible.

But the final nail in Dan Price’s coffin, as far as I’m concerned, is that he admitted, before two witnesses who were both willing to speak out, that he used to restrain his wife, but he admitted to them that that was not the right thing to do.

Ya think? And yet you did it, Danny Boy. This was a choice you made, multiple times. That’s seriously twisted.

I began looking back at his interviews with Kelly Clarkson and Oprah Winfrey, etc. through a more cynical lens, and I realized that the people interviewing him were total fangirls, too. Heck, even Trevor Noah compared him to Jesus! They all wanted a feel good segment for their shows, and this guy fit the bill. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking. Why scratch that sexy surface?

Now I realize that Dan Price is his own spin doctor. I discovered that all the memes I had shared about him had originated from… Dan Price. I never allowed myself to think that a humble man doesn’t need to toot his own horn so much unless he either a) knows that he’s not really that popular in real life, and this is his only way to get admiration, or… b) he has something to hide.

And I was even more disgusted that I fell for all these wonderful liberal memes when I learned that he didn’t even write them himself. He hired someone else to do it. I had always imagined him kicked back on his couch after a long day of decently paying his troops, typing away, speaking from the heart. Instead, he told the guy the image he wanted to have, and the guy provided it. And I inadvertently helped to prop up this image by sharing those memes on Facebook.

Now my inner voice is quoting a dearly departed loved one: “Even if you pour syrup all over something, that doesn’t make it a pancake.”

I need to own the fact that it was highly simplistic of me to think that a member of my flawed species could be pure and good and devoid of tarnish. That’s too much to expect of anyone.

It is possible to do good deeds and be a scumbag at the same time. That annoys me. It would be so much easier if Dan had just picked a side. I really hate shades of gray.

Of course, none of us will ever know the complete truth about Dan Price. If there’s a despicability spectrum, we’ll never be certain where to place him on it. But he’s definitely on the spectrum, and so I’m done with him.

That leaves me in an awkward position. Should I hope the accusations are completely true so that I can at least be comforted by the idea that justice is real, or should I hope they are mostly false, only to watch his carefully honed and oh-so-appealing brand be destroyed by them?

There’s no good answer.

I had always read that breaking free of a cult is hard. I never thought I’d have to struggle through self-deprogramming. I feel like such a fool, and it leaves me wanting to boil myself in bleach.

So, yet another bubble burst. Damn, but it was such a lovely fantasy. I’m going to miss it. And that hurts.

College Admissions Scandal? Seriously?

Richie Rich is always going to land on his feet.

Here’s what I find most scandalous about the college admissions scandal: that people are scandalized by it. I mean, come on. Does the fact that rich people are using their money, fame and influence to get their (sometimes undeserving) children ahead in this world come as a surprise to anyone? Does the fact that colleges and/or their employees are motivated by greed shock you? Honestly?

Do you really think that Donald Trump, whom analysts have determined speaks on a 4^th grade level, and has the attention span of a hummingbird on crack, was good college material? Please. He has an economics degree from Wharton and has absolutely no idea how his policies impact the national and global economy. If he were proud of his SAT scores, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to suppress them. Somebody needs to covfefe his diploma.

Both presidents Bush went to Yale. That makes me think rather less of that institution. But it doesn’t exactly astound me.

Nor does it surprise me that so many football hotshots take no advantage of their academic opportunities, and aren’t really expected to. They are the athletic equivalent of cannon fodder. Their existence is only suffered because they fill the overpriced stadium seats. (There are exceptions, of course.)

Do I think it’s right that these rich kids and athletes have an unfair advantage? Of course not. Do I wish the playing field were level for all of us? Yes. Being able to purchase a degree lowers the value of the degrees the rest of us worked so hard to obtain.

But if you think this “scandal” is in any way new, you’re delusional. And yes, things will tighten up in admissions offices, for a time. But I guarantee you that in about 5 years, when we’re focused on something else, the status quo will reassert itself.

Trust me. Richie Rich is always going to land on his privileged feet.

End of cynical rant for the day.

Graduate

Like this quirky little blog? Then You’ll love my book! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5

Are You Reading This Aloud?

Recently I stumbled upon a scholarly controversy that I didn’t even know was a thing up to that point. Apparently some researchers doubt that people used to read silently before the middle ages. Several books and articles have been written on the subject.

There seem to be two arguments for this theory. The first is a quote by St. Augustine, in which he complains about visiting Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, and upon entering the room, Ambrose continued to silently read. St. Augustine makes much ado about this, and some interpret this as shock at such unusual behavior, i.e. reading silently. On the other hand, other scholars interpret this to mean that St. Augustine was shocked at Ambrose’s rudeness. I tend to agree with this interpretation, having taken the time to visit people myself, only to have them distracted by the television, the computer, the newspaper, texts, etc. It’s just plain rude to ignore a visitor. I suspect that is a timeless concept.

The other argument is that before the middle ages, the vast majority of texts were written in what’s called scriptura continua. In other words, there were no spaces between words. Talk about your compound words! Howwouldyouliketoreadanentirebookinthischallengingformat?

The argument here is that people did not read silently back then because with scriptura continua, it was impossible to do so. To this I say poppycock. Did you not just read that sentence above silently? I did. Yes, it’s a bit of a struggle. Yes, it’s slow going, but it can be done.

Another reason that I think people read silently is that I’ve read out loud to someone before, and it’s a pain in the behind. After a while, your mouth gets dry. And after that, your voice becomes strained and hoarse. And it takes effort not to reduce your reading to a boring monotone. It’s no fun to read aloud. These physiological truths would have been equally true in ancient times.

And monks, who were well known readers, sometimes took vows of silence. I don’t care how religious you are, doing nothing but your chores during times like those would have made it seem like an eternity. I bet they read, just as they wrote, silently. They were accustomed to listening to internal voices.

Also, we know that libraries existed as far back as 2600 BC. Can you imagine what an unwelcoming din there would be if people were sitting around in a library, each reading a different cuneiform tablet, aloud? Nonsense.

I’m convinced people have read silently for as long as writing has existed. On the other hand, did they read aloud more often than we do now? I’m convinced of that as well, for many reasons. But reading aloud because you want or need to is completely different than reading aloud because you’re incapable of reading silently, or because it has never occurred to you.

First of all, literacy was less common then than it is now. If you have a group of people wanting to hear the news or be entertained by a good story, and the vast majority of them can’t read, then, yes, someone read to them.

Second, books were relatively rare and expensive. Even if you have an entire household of avid readers, if there’s only one book to share between you, then, again, someone would have to do the reading, or else you had to wait your turn.

Third, lighting was at a premium. The average household was lucky to have a candle or two. So it stands to reason that one person might “hog” the light and read to others.

There is a related theory that reading alone in bed was considered highly controversial at one time. What were you reading? Erotica? Why else did you need to be lying down and alone to do it? What wicked, wicked thoughts were you having that they couldn’t be shared? Gasp! Scandalous!

Now that theory, I’ll buy. Freedom of thought goes hand in hand with reading, and such freedom always has been controversial. I bet you didn’t realize you were a revolutionary, did you?

Thanks for reading!

Ephesus_Celsus_Library_Façade — The ruins of the Celsus Library in Ephesus, Turkey. I’ve been there. I was in awe.

By the way, books make great gifts. Especially mine! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5

Feeling Fraught about Kevin Spacey

Sex scandals abound these days, it seems. It feels so much worse to me when it’s someone whose work I always admired, like Kevin Spacey, Bill Cosby, or Woody Allen. I had built these men up to such heights in my mind, I almost take it personally that they knocked themselves off my pedestals in such warped and heinous ways.

It could be argued that it’s not their problem that I erected those pedestals. They’re only human, after all. But on the other hand, they didn’t hesitate to enjoy the fruits of their fame, and along with that comes a certain amount of responsibility. And I really don’t think “don’t be a pervert” is too much to ask of anyone. I mean, I manage to follow that rule. Mostly. Fair’s fair.

But there’s another layer of complexity with Kevin Spacey, because he decided to pick this scandalous moment in time to come out as being gay. I mean, we all knew it already, didn’t we? It always kind of made me sad that he didn’t come out publicly much earlier, before it was forced out of him like some sort of awful confession. As a public figure, being that obviously closeted kind of sent a message that being gay is something to be ashamed of. I know it’s a career risk, because society is still stupid that way, but I honestly think that he was loved enough that he’d have survived it. It’s his business, of course, but he is a role model. I don’t want gay kids today (or any other day, for that matter) to feel shame for being who they are.

And as far as his dalliances with underage boys and his groping of people who did not welcome such behavior, he has pretty much admitted to all of that. Clearly he has a problem. But coming out as gay at this moment in time kind of makes it sound like he thinks that that’s the source of the problem. I have no idea whether he genuinely feels that way, but the timing of all of this makes me sad. I know plenty of gay people who don’t prey on children or put their hands in places where they’re not wanted.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

I will never be able to watch the Cosby Show with the same level of joy again. Actually, I doubt I’ll ever be able to watch it, full stop, as I doubt anyone will ever have the courage to air it again. And that’s a pity, because that’s like throwing out the baby with the bathwater. The Cosby Show taught me what a functional family looked like. Future generations won’t have the pleasure of seeing that.

And I haven’t been able to watch a Woody Allen movie in ages without it feeling tainted. I always kind of feel like I need to shower in bleach afterward. That’s never fun.

Here’s what I fear will happen whenever I see Kevin Spacey’s amazing talent now: He has played so many convincingly creepy bad guys that I can fully imagine what that anonymous guy must have felt, after having spurned Kevin’s attentions earlier in the evening, only to wake up to find Kevin lying on top of him, probably staring at him with those intense eyes. Personally, I’d have screamed. It’s the stuff of nightmares.

Thanks for that image, Kevin. Thanks loads.

Kevin Spacey

You Do You

It occurs to me that a lot of the conflict and scandal and overall kerfuffle in this world could be avoided if we all stuck to one basic tenet: You do you. I’ll do me. (That is, as long as what you’re doing does not negatively impact others.)

For example, I’ll never understand why people get so worked up over which bathroom people use to pee. For heaven’s sake, there are stalls. You don’t have to watch. It’s not like you’re being peed upon. So why do you care? You pee in your stall, I’ll pee in mine. We’ll both wash our hands, and go about our business. We don’t even have to make eye contact at the sink if you don’t want to. Simple.

And why do you care if people practice another religion or choose not to practice one at all? How is that even your business? Are you worried that they will go to hell? Gimme a break. No you’re not. Worry about your own final destination. A believer ought to be able to trust that the God of his or her understanding will worry about everyone else.

Is there a good reason that you don’t want the best for others? As the saying goes, equal rights isn’t like pie. It’s not as though there won’t be enough for the rest of us if others partake.

Personally, I have a hard enough time keeping my own ducks in a row without trying to deal with everyone else’s flock. So, you do you. I’ll do me. And we’ll both be just ducky.

you-do-you

Check this out, y’all. I wrote a book! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5

Things I Couldn’t Care Less About

Is it me, or are some scandals not particularly scandalous? Maybe it’s because things seem to be moving faster than ever before on the information highway, but it seems as though the vast majority of news these days is filler. Empty calories. Not particularly beneficial to one’s wellbeing.

Here are just a few things I’m indifferent to, annoyed by, or am just sick of hearing about:

Donald Trump’s Hair.
Anything that emerges from Donald Trump’s pie hole.
Who wore what where.
The way I ought to look and what to do about it.
The way I ought to feel and what to do about it.
How someone behaved at a party, movie set, or on a red carpet.
All efforts to get the one percent to behave decently.
Who the president neglected to salute.
Every single solitary commercial, advertisement, junk mail or spam.
Benghazi.
Who someone chooses to love.
15 signs that you’re ___________.
Why your religious beliefs are superior to someone else’s.
Actually, your religious beliefs, full stop.
Anything from Fox News or CNN.
Who has tweeted whom and said what.
Descriptions of the newest product that I’m not supposed to be able to live without.
Anything sports related.
Vampires.
The latest determination that some type of food is unhealthy.
Computer virus warnings.
The newest release from Apple.

Sorry. You seem to have caught me in a mood.

Can we please just... not? — Can we please just… not?

Major Scandal… Once Upon a Time

Several decades ago, before I was a bridgetender and was still an office drone, there was a major scandal at my place of work. It seems that the director of personnel was found in the supply closet with a secretary from another department. And both were married. Gasp!

Aside from the fact that the head of the personnel department, of all people, ought to know that there are certain plates on which one should not place one’s pickle, this got messy on a whole lot of other levels too. First of all, it could be perceived (although I honestly don’t think it was the case in this instance), that the secretary was attempting to garner a leg up, so to speak, on any promotions that might be in the offing. Second, this particular secretary had a very violent, aggressive husband, and no one was looking forward to seeing him come through the door, loaded for bear. Our geriatric security guard would not have been able to handle that.

After about three days in which this was the sole topic of conversation at the water cooler, the director of personnel resigned. He was trying to save the secretary’s job, but she was a bit of a hot head, and walked out in protest. One minute they were there (albeit in the supply closet), and the next minute, poof! Gone. No goodbyes, nothing.

This kind of made me sad. These were both very good workers and nice people. Why they chose to act so stupidly, unethically, and inappropriately is beyond me. But today’s scandals eventually turn into tomorrow’s vague memories. People have very short attention spans. It’s funny how importance is also impermanent.

Perspective.

My Own Personal Dallas

The other day I had a unique opportunity. I attended a friend’s extended family gathering. The thing is, no one there knew me except my friend, and they didn’t realize how much I knew about their family dynamics. I’ve been friends with this person for decades, and he confides in me. I know all the family scandals.

Once I connected the names with the faces, I sat back and watched the show. It kind of felt like I was the omniscient voice in a sordid TV drama. I had a running narrative going on in my head.

Ooooh, A just rolled her eyes behind B’s back. That’s because he’s talking about being generous, even though he’s constantly borrowing money from A and never pays it back.
C and D just brushed shoulders. They’re having an affair. I wonder what D’s husband would think about that if he knew? Especially since C is his brother.
E looks annoyed at everyone. As well she should be. She’s the only one who is taking care of their mother with dementia.
F and G are siblings, and they had sex with each other when they were teens. Ewwwww.
H is secretly gay. It seems obvious to me, but denial is pervasive in this family. How sad that she feels the need to keep it a secret.
I is a heroin addict.
J isn’t really the father of K.
L once got drunk and French kissed Uncle M at a wedding. He was horrified and everyone still whispers about it.
N is mentally ill, unmedicated, and once threatened to kill his nephew.
Everybody hates O’s wife.
P is part of a really lunatic fringe religion.

This was an interesting experience because I got to see the public face that each person put on while at the same time knowing what was hiding behind each of those masks. People can really by duplicitous and complex. The irony is that setting all this inside information aside, everyone was really nice.

The only thing I don’t know is who shot JR. Maybe that will be revealed at the next gathering. It kind of makes you wonder what you don’t know about the people you think you know, though, doesn’t it?

Obsolete Plot Twists

I was watching an old suspense movie the other day for lack of anything more appealing to do, and I had to laugh because this story would never work in the modern era. This woman was trapped inside her house and a creepy stalker guy was trying to break in. She rushes to the phone to call for help, only to find it dead. “He’s cut the phone lines!” High drama. Much tension. If you’re in an era without cell phones.

It must be a lot more difficult for writers to come up with a viable plot these days. For example, it’s harder to turn a story on a secret in an age where no one seems to keep them anymore. It’s harder to shock a small town with a scandal when we no longer find anything scandalous. And conspiracy theories are a lot harder to pull off in the age of camera phones, surveillance videos, satellite imagery, and twitter.

I saw the movie Summertime recently, in which Katherine Hepburn, “an aging spinster” (Their description, not mine. She was my age when she played the part.) goes off to Venice on holiday and has a steamy romance, much of which you don’t see because they cut away for, I swear to God, fireworks. But the whole premise of this movie is that this highly repressed woman has to go to Europe to let her hair down. It is a lovely romantic story, but it probably will never be remade because nowadays she wouldn’t go to Venice, she’d just go to Match.com. That’s hardly exciting.

I think future generations are missing out on quite a bit. Gone are the days when we will see people being threatened by impatient thugs as they make a call from a phone booth, or cub reporters click clacking away on typewriters, or operators listening in on your conversations (theoretically).

It kind of makes you wonder what’s coming. I’m waiting for the first movie that employs a 3D printer.

Revenge Porn

My, my, I’ve led a sheltered life. I hadn’t even heard of revenge porn until this month. For the uninitiated, these are websites predominately directed against women. Men who have been jilted can post the compromising photos they took while still in a relationship, and include detailed stories about their exes, possibly true, possibly outlandish, all to humiliate the women who have moved on for whatever reason.

The saddest part about this is that you can tell just by reading these posts that these women were smart to leave. What woman in her right mind would want to be in a relationship with someone who would resort to posting their private business in a public forum in an effort to ruin her life and cause the maximum amount of pain? Such class. Such dignity. His mother would be so proud.

These men are, frankly, pathetic. I’m not saying that the women in question were saints. I’m sure they inflicted their share of pain. But to resort to a revenge porn site to vent your spleen seems a little bit like throwing a tantrum in the middle of a Walmart. At age 30. Sad. Just sad.

An even more disturbing trend is those sites where women post pictures of other women who have stolen their husbands. They include heartbreaking details, and often hurl abuse at the home wrecker in question. Oddly, the predominant message seems to be that the husband stealer is the only one at fault, and that because of her, an otherwise perfect life has been ruined. The husband never comes off as nearly as culpable.

What strikes me as strange is the implication that the marriage was perfect, full of joy and happiness, until this other woman came along with evil intent. If that’s truly the case, then how was she able to steal him in the first place? I’m not laying all the blame at the feet of the wife for the resulting divorce. I’m just blaming her for not seeing that there must have already been cracks in the foundation of the marriage, whether they were created by her or by her spouse, or, as is usually the case, a complicated combination of the two.

Home wreckers may be poison, but the immune system of the marriage must already be compromised before that poison can become lethal. And frankly, if your man is that easy to steal, you’ll be much better off without him in the long run, and therefore, in an odd way, perhaps the other woman should be thanked. It’s always helpful when someone else offers to haul your garbage to the dump.

These websites are graphic evidence of humanity’s pain, denial, and blatant inability to communicate. I find them depressing, and no good can possibly come from them.

Don’t air your dirty laundry in public, people. It will only make you look like a pig.