Don't Worry. Practically No One Is Graduating On Time

When I arrived at college almost four years ago, I expected to follow a very specific trajectory. I would take enough hours per semester to graduate by May 2015 (my then-projected graduation date) while juggling extracurriculars, a social life and the occasional night of drunken revelry. But life is not a university brochure and, sure enough, I found myself switching majors (twice) by my junior year of college, setting me back considerably. I imagine many of you share the same story and, if you're anything like me, it is probably a source of hair-pulling (or, in my case, hair-losing) stress. But don't worry, according to a recent study done by Complete College America, we're apparently in the majority.

Indeed, it would appear that a country notorious for shitty high school education is also notorious for being shitty at higher education. With many universities (mine included) urging a "Finish in Four" attitude, it can be disconcerting to find yourself looking at your fifth year of college. And why shouldn't it be? College is expensive as shit, forcing many to pay off loans well into their working years. But that doesn't change the fact that it's nearly impossible to achieve the mythical goal of graduating on time. First, some numbers to mull over:

Only 5% (!!!) of people seeking a two-year associate's degree finish on time. As for a four-year Bachelor's degree, between 19% (non-flagship schools) and 36% (flagship/high research schools) of the students graduate by their projected date.

These numbers fucking suck. To put the whole thing in the perspective of the larger picture, a paltry 50 of the 580 public four-year institutions in the country "report that at least half of their first-time, full-time students graduate on time."

That means almost no one is graduating as promised. The big question here is why?

Well, according to the research, it's because many colleges have excessive degree requirements. Excessive here being defined as over 120 hours for a four-year degree, 60 hours for a two-year degree and 30 hours for a certificate. From personal experience, I can attest to this excessive course load. My degree currently requires 122 hours over the course of 4 years (that's 8 semesters) amounting to a whopping 15.25 hours a semester. 

Now, to a seasoned college student, this hardly seems like a daunting number, but factoring in that there is an average one adviser per 400 students (leading to uninformed choices), 60% of bachelor's degree recipients transfer colleges and are screwed over by shoddy transfer policies and 33% of students have been fucked by not securing a class that they needed to take, it's easy to see why 15.25 hours a semester might start to look like a bleak and fading legend of old.

I won't vomit the entire study here on this page. I've provided a link above so that you may peruse it at your leisure. The point I'd like you to take away from this is that the college four-year system is broken and overpriced. People that can barely afford four years in the first place are getting shafted due to broken policies and cumbersome course loads (mainly stemming from the outmoded idea of "general education"). The stress that should be reserved for taking final exams and completing complex projects is now being added on to by unrealistic expectations of finishing college by a particular timeline.

Though, I suppose there is one positive takeaway from all this: We're all being screwed together. 

The Issue With Benjamin Watson's Ferguson Post

Benjamin Watson, evidently a player of sports ball to those who follow that sort of thing, gave his thoughts on Ferguson via his Facebook page on Tuesday. His thoughts, broken down into a list of sorts, details how frustrated and angry he is by the continued preying upon of black citizens in the United States. This is good. He also, however, makes an attempt at condemning the riots, sympathizing with Darren Wilson and scolding Michael Brown for disobeying a policeman. This is bad.

Look, Watson has more right to speak out about the issue than I do. He is, after all, a black man living in a country that still views him as a threat. He understands better than most what it's like to walk down the street and draw the gaze of trigger-happy cops. This is why it confuses me so much to see someone like Watson speaking on this issue so ignorantly. Admittedly, he understands the base issue that black men are being unfairly (and disproportionately) gunned down by law enforcement. But he fails to recognize the full picture and, in doing so, perpetuates the larger issue of racism. For example....

I'M EMBARRASSED because the looting, violent protests, and law breaking only confirm, and in the minds of many, validate, the stereotypes and thus the inferior treatment.

Sure, looting stores, lighting cop cars on fire and generally causing havoc and mayhem aren't exactly the most effective ways of endearing yourself to the powers that be. That being said, fuck the powers that be. Why the hell should people who have been shat on their whole lives sit around and play the peace bongos until someone in power comes by and asks them what's up?  The idea that violent action by oppressed masses is somehow confirming stereotypes is just the sort of racist tripe that assholes trot out to confirm their own racism. It invalidates the cause if they can attach it to the idea that "HUR DUR BLACK PEOPLE STEAL SHIT" and, thereby, weaves a narrative of mindless brutality in the minds of terrified white people watching CNN.

Certainly, I feel for the shop owners who are dealing with countless acts of vandalism and damage to their stores. I really do feel bad. But I feel worse for a sect of the population that has to accept the fact that there is absolutely nothing they can do against a system that treats them like animals and "demons." They aren't breaking shit because they just like the idea of chaos. They're breaking shit because it's the only way they can fight a system that is richer, more powerful and turns a blind eye to their cause.

I'M CONFUSED, because I don't know why it's so hard to obey a policeman. You will not win!!! And I don't know why some policeman abuse their power. Power is a responsibility, not a weapon to brandish and lord over the populace.

It's hard to obey a policeman because some people aren't content with bending over the table and spreading their cheeks open wide. Sure, you probably should obey policeman (especially if you're black) because you run the risk of getting shot in the face if you don't. But I am sympathetic to those young black men who draw the ire of law enforcement just by walking while black. Yeah, you're better off just shutting your mouth and letting the asshole search you, but that doesn't mean it's any less demeaning and tyrannical. When do we say enough is enough?

I'M INTROSPECTIVE, because sometimes I want to take "our" side without looking at the facts in situations like these. Sometimes I feel like it's us against them. Sometimes I'm just as prejudiced as people I point fingers at. And that's not right. How can I look at white skin and make assumptions but not want assumptions made about me? That's not right.

This stinks of "reverse racism" bullshit. All forms of prejudice are bad, yes. But pointing fingers at white people isn't even nearly on par with pointing fingers at black people. First of all, it's easier to be white. In every aspect. I could walk to the store right now and if a cop stopped me, it would be to ask if I had an iPhone 5 charger or if I could help him with his taxes. I don't run the risk of being shot.

On a more realistic note, you can't really be racist towards white people because in order to do so, those carrying out said racism have to be in a position of higher authority and power. As white people are currently sitting on the top of the heap, racism only ever amounts to shouts from below. And sometimes it can be pretty darned offensive. But being offended does not amount to being oppressed. And that's the crux of the problem. Assumptions being made about white people certainly does suck, but it's not worth addressing that issue in the wake of major racist assumptions and actions directed towards young black men. Let's fix the heart before we fix the foot, shall we?

I'M ENCOURAGED, because ultimately the problem is not a SKIN problem, it is a SIN problem. SIN is the reason we rebel against authority. SIN is the reason we abuse our authority. SIN is the reason we are racist, prejudiced and lie to cover for our own. SIN is the reason we riot, loot and burn. BUT I'M ENCOURAGED because God has provided a solution for sin through the his son Jesus and with it, a transformed heart and mind. One that's capable of looking past the outward and seeing what's truly important in every human being. The cure for the Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice and Eric Garner tragedies is not education or exposure. It's the Gospel. So, finally, I'M ENCOURAGED because the Gospel gives mankind hope.

The rest of Watson's post is religious drivel that, while well-meaning, removes the important focus of the issue and turns it into a Jesus-thon. This is, perhaps, the biggest problem of his post. In proclaiming the debacle a "sin problem" and not a "skin problem," he effectively removes blame from everyone and makes us all feel warm and fuzzy inside because it's just the Devil up to his old tricks. But in blaming Satan for our worldly ills, we can't effectively fight the problems. It reduces us to praying masses of inaction that sit around and wait for the problem to fix itself.

God is not going to fix this problem. At least not without acting through some very well-organized and inspired humans. This is not about reading the gospel and this is not about Jesus. This is about human beings that are stuck on this shitty planet together until we inevitably die (some of us by the hands of gun-toting cops). Harmony, perhaps a pipe dream, will not be achieved if we continue to divert our attention from the real issue of inequality and exasperatedly proclaim that "we just want everyone to get along." Don't blame black rioters for this problem. Blame a society that has, for hundreds of years, pushed black men and women into the ground and stomped on their dignity with the iron boot of white supremacy. Blame a history of white imperialism that drew arbitrary lines in the sand all over Africa and the Middle East in an attempt to proclaim the sacred gospel and civilize the "heathens."

Watson, you seem like a nice guy, but you are contributing to institutional racism with this post. You have nice intentions, but this won't be solved if people with as much media reach as you do keep speaking ignorantly. Truly educate yourself on the details of modern racism and you'll see that your advice falls short in a world where even the most polite black man is looked upon with disdain and suspicion. I would love for everyone to get along, but we won't get there by telling the oppressed peoples of this nation to quiet down and stop messing up our nice comfortable lifestyles. It's going to take rioting and, yes, it's going to take fire.

Why Are We So Afraid of Vaginas?

For a society that so readily puts women on display for their bodies, we are still a wee bit squeamish about acknowledging that all our favorite parts exist underneath all that skimpy clothing we're hawking. Admittedly, it's really no one's business what goes on under there, but pretending like it doesn't exist seems akin to covering your eyes and hoping the monsters in your closet don't nibble on your exposed toes.

It was recently brought to my attention that a community I used to be a part of was the latest organization to jump on board the "pretending that vaginas don't exist" train. For the sake of open and inclusive discourse, I won't name the community here. It's not really relevant. The problem goes far beyond dorm room squabbles over the appropriateness of discussing female genitalia. If this sounds like an archaic discussion, you haven't been paying attention. In 2012, LifeWay (a chain of Christian bookstores, for the uninitiated) banned a book from their stores when they found that the author had *GASP* used the word vagina to describe her, you know, vagina. 

But religious doctrine being used to cover up the unpleasant little realities that lie in wait behind the thin veneer of underwear is hardly surprising. Perhaps a more all-encompassing and contemporary example would be more appropriate. As recently as....two weeks ago, you couldn't say the word "pussy" on Comedy Central without being bleeped into oblivion. Noting the ridiculous double standard of being able to say dick at will and not pussy, Amy Schumer and her staff finally put their foot down. Dan Powell, an executive producer for Inside Amy Schumer, penned a letter to network execs bemoaning said double standard.....and won!

Indeed, it would seem that this is a victory for the level-headed crowd. However, keep in mind that this is one network's decision concerning one particular aspect of vaginas. The humorous discussion of vaginas (or pussies, if you will) on Comedy Central may be fair game, but there are still countless other networks and mediums that clench their collective asshole at the very mention of the subject. 

Beyond the fact that a vagina is a body part just like any other, the unwillingness to verbalize gives it an unnecessarily sexual connotation. The world's pearl-clutching/smelling salts-fetching behavior stems from the idea that the vagina is "dirty" and profane. It's the same bullshit moral high horse that causes people to descend into madness over women breastfeeding in public. However, I digress.

Look, I understand that a community event is often not the place to shout about obscene subjects. I would like you to understand that the vagina is not obscene. Neither is the hymen, clitoris, placenta and whatever other words cause people these days to faint out of horror. If your child is just now being introduced to the word vagina, that is, perhaps, your failing as a parent to appropriately prepare your progeny for a world that is just around 50% vaginas (citations needed).

Food for thought. 

The Problem With The Appalachian's Opinion Section

Opinions are like U2 albums. Everyone is just really fucking tired of hearing them. However, much like Bono, opinions have somehow secured their place in the world of pop culture indefinitely. Perhaps it's for this reason that opinions have adopted the guise of journalism, popping up in newspapers and masquerading as informed thought. Don't get me wrong; opinions are important. Without them, we would have nothing informing our decisions and no sense of morality. But we've come to mistake the importance of some opinions for the importance of all opinions. In other words: Not every thought that tumbles through your precious head is worth sharing. (The irony here is not lost on me)

This being said, should you want to stand on the street corner and shout about your opinions on the texture of oranges, you are certainly welcome to do that. However, when you utilize the medium of mass media to start rambling about every thought that crosses your mind, your entitlement to an opinion starts to get a little hazy.

Rather than continue to dance around the issue, I'll get right to the point: A newspaper's opinion section shouldn't be your personal blog for how you feel about stuff. It should be a section where you share an informed opinion on a topical issue that is relevant to readers. Lately, The Appalachian has been toeing the line between the two and leaning slightly towards the former. One writer in particular is leading that charge into frivolity.

I'm sure you all remember Dewey "Feminism is Hard" Mullis from several weeks ago. His controversial article concerning his ambivalence towards feminism inspired outrage among a large portion of the student body. While the topic of discussion was certainly worthy of writing about (however stupid it may be), the lack of substance is what really made it an unforgivable piece of trash. You can't just hide behind the platitude of "well that's just my opinion" when you're writing for a newspaper. An opinion without any sort of supporting facts is just a rant. And ranting is fine.....if you're not writing for a newspaper.

I am not entirely up to date on journalistic ethics as of late. But I would hazard a guess that any paper worth its salt would agree to the assertion that an opinion must be A) a topic worth discussing and B) backed up with some amount of cold hard facts. As for the former, it's hard to gauge what a worthy topic is in this day in age. But even in our frivolous and downright stupid society, I still imagine that someone who is going to take the time to read a newspaper might be slightly miffed to find a fucking listicle about sidewalks within its pages.

Other examples of Mullis' inanities can be found in his several meta articles in which he muses on confirmation bias and what it means to write an opinion. Interesting stuff if you're, you know, an opinion writer. But for the rest of the population, it takes up space that could be dedicated to more relevant issues. The latter article does grant us a peek inside the mind of Mullis, however. He makes a great point: "There are things opinions should and should not be." If only he could follow his own advice.

But, I understand that Mullis is merely one of three regular opinion writers on the desk (though, it's worth noting that he has the most articles under his belt at this point). The other two, Lindsey Chandler and Kevin Griffin, seem to do a good job at writing meaningful opinions, however. Why Mullis doesn't take his cues from his peers is beyond me.

The Appalachian can claim that opinions are solely of the author all day long, but that excuse doesn't really fly these days. If tomorrow The New York Times hired a guy that thinks the earth is flat, everyone would lose their minds. Admittedly, The Grey Lady services a much larger audience, but I would like to think that The Appalachian has more respect for its readers than it's currently demonstrating. Certainly, an opinion held by a writer does not reflect the opinion of an organization as a whole, but the continued employment of that writer definitely reflects its standards.

My suggestion to The Appalachian? Get your shit in gear. Stop pulling stunts like that fucking PSA about cat costumes. It demeans the organization and, in doing so, demeans this campus. Furthermore, stop hiding behind excuses. We don't care who wrote it and who put it in the newspaper. Own up to a mistake and take responsibility. Otherwise, you just look petty.

And as for Mullis, I offer this bit of advice: Either stop writing articles about stupid shit or, if that's too hard, stop writing entirely. You have some worthy articles under your belt so I know you're not entirely incompetent. Prove that you can be taken seriously as an opinion writer and stop embarrassing the newspaper you work for. We here at The Daily Wit will be keeping an eye on you.

Professors, Please Learn How to Email

Look, I get it. You've been teaching snot-nosed kids since Nixon flew away and, as far as you're concerned, technology is just the newest fad in a long line of trends that include bell-bottom pants and green ketchup. But us college students aren't nearly as wise and learned as you, oh great bearer of outdated textbooks. We rely heavily on this clunky little item that the kids are now calling a MacBook. (Book? Books have paper, goddamit!) When we need to communicate, we lazily string a few misspelled words together and send it into the ether, typically from the toilet. So when you want to reach us, it seems pertinent that you might, I don't know, utilize the technology most readily available to us.

In other words.....

USE YOUR FUCKING EMAIL.

People used to have to pay for this shit. Now you get a free university assigned one. Hell, you get your own section of a website just to put whatever the hell you goddamn please. If you wanted to fill it with pictures of your ex-wife photoshopped into scenes from Gravity, you could easily fucking do it. Just as long as you have SOME sort of online presence. It makes us millennials uncomfortable when there's radio silence from you over the interwebs. It's like seeing a guy dressed in a zoot suit jiving his way down the sidewalk.

This in mind, when you want to cancel class, just shoot us an email. We check it religiously, I assure you. You don't even have to say more than one word. You could even make a fun time of it by turning the whole thing into a meme! Literally any of those options is better than forcing us to wake up, get ready, walk 15 minutes in the dreary morning air just to find out that you've wrangled some poor colleague of yours into putting a PRINTED sign on the door to inform us that there will be no class today.

JUST USE YOUR FUCKING EMAIL.

Do you think Paul Revere, had he been given the option, would have chosen to ride miles shouting his fucking lungs out about the impending coming of British? No. Motherfucker would have just sent an email. "Lol, limey bastards up in here"

And don't you think that Juliet MIGHT have shot Romeo a text letting him in on the fact that she wasn't actually dead but just fakin' it?

Technology isn't an evil sun god trying to force you into sacrificing your first-born. It's a lovely tool that literally makes all forms of communication easier. So, please, next time you get the sniffles and decide that you can't make it into class, just follow this one simple step:

USE. YOUR. FUCKING. EMAIL.

Stop Telling Me To Vote

You can't move an inch today without bumping into a fucking polling station or someone who will direct you towards one. Indeed, the politically minded have taken it upon themselves to spur the masses into doing their "civic duty" by voting for the next round of assholes. In the past two weeks I have been shouted at incessantly on campus, had unwelcome vote-wranglers knocking on my apartment door, and endured that stupid fucking video of Lil John et al rapping/turning-down about voting. 

MAKE IT STOP.

Look, I get it. Voting is a big deal for those of you that find public policy interesting. But for the rest of us who find the whole process sordid from the get go, it really doesn't sound all that appealing. I don't mean to say that voting is unimportant. On the contrary, I think that if everyone actually took the time to consider each candidate seriously and voted based on policy and history, we might just be a better country. But therein lies the rub. American voters, for the most part it would seem, are neither educated nor patient enough to take the time to make themselves so.

This isn't exactly surprising information about a country full of people that collectively cream their pants every time the McRib shows back up on the menu. We are a nation of very little attention span. We like shiny badges that we can wear to show off to our friends. Hence the ever-obnoxious "I Voted!" sticker that proves to your peers that you can, indeed, push buttons effectively. (Or whatever people do to vote now. I haven't voted since the presidential election.) And that's the whole issue with the "VOTE RIGHT FUCKING NOW" institution. It stresses action over preparation. Rather than advocate for an informed decision, it force feeds the idea that you just need to get your ass in there and do something.

And let's not claim hyperbole here. There is a very well-funded, and growingly sinister, campaign. Just this morning, I was assaulted by this little message on my Facebook. I imagine you encountered the same.

Should you click the blue box, it takes you to a screen that shows you your nearest polling station. "More Information," however, leads you to a page with a litany of supporting organizations that looks like the guest list for the popular kids table at Silicon Valley. 

And speaking of popular kids, the obnoxious aforementioned video with Lil John is the product of an organization called "Rock the Vote." A massive non-profit that has been around since 1990, Rock the Vote (RTV) has been "fusing pop culture, politics, and technology" for decades in an attempt to make voting sound just as appealing as buying a new iPhone or downloading a new Taylor Swift album. The idea is to make voting cool again for a millenial generation that dislikes doing anything that involves reading. And while I think the idea of getting kids off their asses is a great idea, I don't necessarily think dangling shiny objects and celebrity endorsements in front of their faces is the most efficient way of going about it. Sure, it gets the job done, but so would telling your kids that they get $100 for every day they get out of bed to go to school. 

Incentives are nice, but when they take the place of the actual important issues, it sort of discounts the message. We shouldn't be voting because it's cool; we should be voting because it's important. Furthermore, you shouldn't just be voting. You should also be educating yourselves on the stances that each candidate takes, his/her history, and which direction you think he/she will take our state/country in. It's not easy and it's not pretty. It's actually quite boring and grey. But if you actually want to make a difference and actually want to get shit done, I suggest you start getting used to looking past the pretty bow on top of the package. It's what's inside the box that's important, anyways. 

White Man Tries (and Fails) to Comprehend Feminism

vs.

Modern society is littered with ambiguity. Indeed, you can't go anywhere these days without stepping in a gooey pile of ambivalence, causing you to question your morals at every turn. The culprit? A litany of social issues that prove time and time again that you are never right and that you're probably an asshole. The mature thing to do is to just accept that you've been wrong about a lot that you once assumed was right.

Enter Dewey Mullis, opinion writer for The Appalachian.

Mullis is just your average dude trying to wrap his head around this whole "feminism" thing. In a recent article that he wrote for the paper, Mullis spends several paragraphs scratching his head and trying to understand what feminism is. In a quest akin to Nicholas Cage's search for national treasure, Mullis pulls out all the stops to get to the bottom of our species' greatest mystery: women.

During his travels, Mullis stumbles across a dictionary, some people that also read the dictionary, and vague voices in his head that tell him that "men are pigs." The possibility of George Orwell's ghost aside, it would appear that Mullis is basing a large portion of his.....argument (?) on the ramblings of a minority. But we'll get to that later.

Our brave hero starts his journey with a disclaimer. 

Before the discussion gets foggy, let me clear the air. Women in the workplace deserve to make the same amount as their male counterparts. No one asks to get raped by wearing certain clothes or making certain decisions. Women should have control over their bodies – reproductive parts and processes included.

Well, that seems entirely reasonab-

What I don’t completely comprehend is feminism.

I....but you just....

There are definitions that differ between dictionaries, societies, political ideology and the spectrum of demographic categories. Reactions from onlookers, supporters and opposition are equally as varying.

I think this is where I tend to fall off of the feminism bandwagon. I can’t define it – for myself or for anyone.

Wait wait wait wait wait wait.....wait. So what you're saying is (and correct me if I'm wrong), unless *you* can define something for yourself, you can't ascribe to the ideology? And the reason you find yourself unable to define the movement is because there's just too many definitions? I can't help but notice that you are a criminal justice major. Law is going to be very difficult for you.

Look, literally anything is going to be varied from person to person. I could ask a hundred people what they think of hot dogs and get a hundred different responses. Variation in responses doesn't mean that I can't still enjoy hot dogs, however.

Then, the kicker. It is to build women up to the same playing field as men – the one they strive for and deserve. But then I hear, “men are scum,” or, “I hate men. They’re pigs.”

What? Equality just went out the window. 

 Yes, the one made-up feminist you heard about that one time spitting on a guy that opened the door for her is the spokesperson for the entire movement. Using these feminist boogeymen as a justification for hesitance in accepting the movement is a lot like freaking out over Muslims and blaming Al Qaeda. Fringe groups exist within any ideologically-driven effort, but assigning blame to the entire cause because of this is horribly ignorant.

Mullis spends the rest of his article bemoaning the lack of representation of men in the feminist movement and generally just missing the point entirely.

Men are parents and stay-at-home dads. We have fears and anxieties. Some things embarrass us and social expectations bar us from being upfront and totally honest. We have to man up. Rape culture among men is a hush-hush and men are gay, too. Men and women are not that far apart.

Somehow, feminism is to blame for our lack of acknowledgement of these things. I mean, male rape? If only an incredibly prominent feminist blog had addressed an issue like this! It would make this entire argument null and void. I mean, hell, what are the odds of that?

Oh.

Mullis, for all your musings about the movement, it doesn't seem like you've actually given it much thought beyond stereotypes you heard being spouted on the internet. People aren't feminists because they want to usurp men and replace all phallic shaped buildings with vagina altars. We're feminists because, as you mentioned, women in the workplace deserve as much as their male counterparts. Women have a right to control over their bodies. What a woman wears is not indicative of her willingness to have sex.

The reason there's no "movement for the sexes" is because men have nowhere to move. We're already at the top. I imagine you're also the kind of person that complains about there being no White History Month?

No one is saying that men have it perfectly and that there are literally no problems associated with possessing male genitalia. We're just saying that maybe it's worth treating the chick with the flu before you treat the guy with the cold.

I am all for freedom to express your opinion. It is, after all, my purview. That being said, I would expect a little more from a newspaper run by young, intelligent college students. The article is littered with logical fallacies and a general lack of evidence to support his claim. But I get that it's an opinion piece and not reflective of the paper's views. After all, I imagine this is a minority opinion among our progressive student body. But don't take it from me:

I honestly couldn't have said it better myself, Chuck. 

Did the Supreme Court Just Make Marriage Equality Legal in 11 States?

The law is complicated and dense, consisting of all sorts of bylaws, precedents, and other legal terms that I'm sure someone far more educated than I could spout for hours. Point being, the law is anything but swift. Thus, the idea of marriage equality becoming legal in a state over night is a bit of a stretch. The idea of it becoming legal in 11 states is just batshit insane.

But that's exactly what (potentially) may have happened today when the Supreme Court refused to hear all seven pending certiorari petitions concerning same sex marriage. For the uninitiated, what this means is that lower courts made a decision concerning same sex marriage (in this case, in favor) and when assholes tried to appeal this decision, the SCOTUS effectively said nah, "leaving intact lower court rulings that will legalize the practice in 11 additional states." 

Now, a lot of these numbers are conjecture by excitable journalists and underpaid bloggers trying to claw their way to the front page of the internet. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the enthusiasm that comes with such a (possibly) landmark decision and I'll be happy to celebrate once we know for sure. But it wouldn't be fair to those being truly affected by this decision to come out here and start waving the rainbow flag of victory just yet. Thus, in the interest of clarity (and at the risk of buzz killing) I am going to attempt to reconcile a few of these statistics and numbers. 

First of all, there are only five states that will see an almost immediate change in marriage equality laws. Those states being Indiana, Oklahoma, Utah, Virginia, and Wisconsin. This is what we know to be fact. Here's where the speculation comes in. 

It's worth giving a very quick and very cursory crash course in law before we proceed. The United States is divided into 12 circuits, each of which has a court of appeals. Unless I am mistaken, in the case that a circuit court makes a decision, it applies to the entire circuit. Now, I am sure there are all sorts of exceptions and loopholes and general fuckery that could invalidate my statement. But in the opinion of countless journalists on the internet, this seems to be the case today.

Your college law course out of the way, let's talk about what this actually means. According to a spokesman for the Virginia Attorney General, "the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 4th Circuit will issue an order at 1 pm that will allow same-sex marriages to begin." While Virginia may be the seat of the 4th circuit, the circuit also includes four other states: Maryland (which has already legalized same sex marriage), South Carolina, West Virginia (lol), and North Carolina. This means that there is a likelihood that the decision will also apply to those states.

Yes, you read that right. West Virginia may have legal same sex marriages before twenty other states. If that doesn't conjure up some sort of schadenfreude for you, I don't know what will. In all seriousness, if this really is the case and the decision does cause a domino effect, we may see widespread marriage equality in as many as 30 states by the end of this whole thing. That would mean that the majority of the nation would be marriage equality-friendly. Which, you know, is a big fucking deal.

But, once again, please keep in mind that the decision is still very fresh and still being hotly debated. I like to believe that the good guys win, but the assholes are still very adept at inserting their general assholery into these situations. Who knows what loophole some douchenugget will find to ruin this for millions of Americans? Take everything I've said with a grain of salt and do your own research. 

It's not yet time to break out the disco ball and celebrate, but you'd be remiss if you didn't let loose a single fist pump in the air, prematurity notwithstanding.

And to those of you that suddenly find yourselves legally allowed to marry the person you love: Congratulations and I apologize that we took this long to grant you a right you should have had all along.

Appalachian State's Intramural Sexism Problem

I feel obligated to start with a disclaimer: I do not nor have I ever played sports. Besides a brief stint in kindergarten where I "played soccer" with a bunch of other five year olds, I have gone my life without soccer, football, tennis, and everything in between. Maybe it's because of my sedentary lifestyle that I just don't get the decision to so heavily segregate the genders in sports. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind there being separate teams for separate people. With so many people on the planet Earth, there's bound to be a large variation of skill levels. My problem lies with the dividing line. Rather than being divided into groups based on skill, the line has been drawn between men and women, presumably for the same reason that any gender divide is created: ignorance and a stubborn adherence to archaic ideals.

Of course, Appalachian State is more progressive than that. Rather than give in to the outmoded idea that women and men need to play on separate teams, Appalachian State has a coed soccer team! Indeed, no matter what gender you are, you can play intramural soccer. And if you're a girl, you can score TWO points when you score a goal as opposed to just one!

That's right. According to the Soccer Rules for Intramural Sports, "a goal scored by a female counts 2 points" whereas a man's goal only counts one. This is what we in the industry call "bullshit sexist nonsense from the 1950s."

This issue was brought to my attention by Kate Rhudy, a sophomore at Appalachian State and a member of an intramural soccer team. Several days ago, Rhudy made a Facebook post, condemning the sexism of the rule. Since then, she has gone to the school's Title IX representative and is making a rather large effort to get this rule, among similarly sexist rules in other sports, changed.

I have enough faith in my audience (you are, after all, spending time reading something) to know that I don't need to hammer in the whole "sexism is bad" spiel for you to understand that this rule is really fucking stupid. That being said, I would still like to address a much less discussed (and possibly much worse) issue that continues to pervade society (and Appalachian State) today. When Rhudy took her issue to the Assistant Director of Intramural Sports, she was told rather dismissively that "there just simply has not been enough evidence in the past to support a rule change." This is a lovely example of what we like to call "institutionalized sexism." Fairly self-explanatory, this is when institutions (mainly made up of men) enact rules, regulations, and laws that discriminate against and limit women.

The whole song and dance of "well, it's just the way we've always done it" is a load of crap and it's a way for people to hide sexism in the guise of tradition. Just because something has been done for a really long time does not justify it. But this seems to always be the case for keeping women out of activities typically associated with masculinity. This, coupled with half-assed science about women being physically inferior to men. Certainly, a man at his physical peak and a woman at her physical peak will expose a disparity, but we are America and I would hazard a guess that there are very few men at their peak. 

This in mind, it's fair to assume that throwing women and men together into an activity could yield a lot of instances where the former out-performs the latter. Hell, let's stop assuming entirely. Just a couple of weeks ago, Sabine Lisicki set the record for fastest recorded serve in women's tennis. It also happened to be faster than any serve Roger Federer has hit all season. Admittedly, it still hasn't beaten the record for fastest serve overall, but that's not really the point. Two incredibly talented athletes were placed side by side and the female displayed the most physical prowess. 

I don't know if Roger Federer is any better than Sabine Lisicki at tennis and I don't really care. What I do care about is that this anecdote illustrates a fundamental point: That women and men can be competitive without giving the former some sort of edge. 

Why Appalachian State has not caught up to the 21st century is beyond me. We have a female chancellor, a fairly liberal student body, and a reputation for being a bunch of dirty communist hippies. And yet we still can't grasp the possibility that men and women can be evenly matched in a physical activity. Despite years of discussion on the issue. Despite women's dedication and sacrifice. Despite every show of female prowess in a physical setting. 

It's worth noting that, beyond logical fallacies, the continued portrayal of women as the "weaker sex" is causing a lot of harm. In a society that already erodes female confidence in the boardroom, telling women that they can't even kick a ball as well as men really can't be good for anything. Blatant sexism aside, it perpetuates that nasty whisper in every woman's ear that she's not as good as a man and that she never will be. It's that voice that oozes out of every condescending "honey," "sweetie," and "dear." It's not a subconscious voice but an amalgamation of external declarations that forms a message of inferiority and gnaws at the psyche.

Let's silence the voice. It won't be an easy battle and it certainly won't happen over night. But we can start with the little things. If men get 1 point per scored goal, so should women. It's as simple as that.

Please Stop Raping People

I'm fucking baffled that I even have to address this situation, but here it goes. After a string of reported sexual assaults on Appalachian State's campus over the course of just the past three weeks, it's becoming clear that people do not know the definition of the word "consent." This is strange to me considering the fact that it is so easily Googled and, thereby, defined.

But, I understand; we are a lazy culture after all. Let me relieve some of the burden and define it for you:

IT'S WHEN THEY SAY FUCKING YES.

I don't care if they are naked on your bed reciting Pablo Neruda to your crotch, if they say anything that contrasts with the word "yes," do not fucking touch them in a sexual manner. Don't fucking rape people. Goddamit, is this a hard fucking concept?

Look, I know people can be confusing. Guess what? Tough. Don't fucking rape people.

I know being drunk inhibits your decision making process. Don't fucking rape people.

I know people can occasionally wear incredibly revealing clothing. Don't fucking rape people.

If this whole idea was foreign to you and I've presented you with all new information, welcome to being a fucking decent human. If this all makes complete sense, congratulations on having a modicum of morality.

We need to stop trotting out the same bullshit about rape prevention every goddamn time some asshole gets handsy/rapey. Rape prevention should start with the rapist, not the victim. I know it seems much more appealing to just shrug and say "Well, it happens!" but I'd like to imagine we've evolved past the point of letting inevitability override our decisions.

Yes, you should still carry around self defense and be wary of strange people on the street, but you also shouldn't have to feel like you're walking through a fucking jungle of rapist assholes every time you go to the store. I apologize to everyone affected for our society's lack of competence in this matter. I'll try and do the job they should have been doing this whole time:

DON'T FUCKING RAPE PEOPLE.

The Nude Leak of 2014: Stop Calling the Pictures Scandalous

After a way-too-long summer hiatus, I'm happy to announce that The Daily Wit is back and ready to impart its infinite font of wisdom on the eager masses (you). And what better time to return to the blogging scene than now? What, with unrest in Ferguson, unrest in Ukraine, and, well, unrest in Iraq, it's almost too easy to be a blogger. I have so many outlets available for my educated (read: cursory) opinions. That said, I'm not going to talk about those issues today. This isn't because they aren't important or timely, or interesting. Mainly, it's just a lot of work that I don't want to do because other, more informed people than I have done it better. (see: above links)

No, instead I'm going to focus on something a little closer to home but no less worthy of discussion. I imagine, if you have a working internet connection, you've been made privy to the most recent celebrity nude leak. Naked pictures of our favorite tabloid sweethearts isn't exactly an unprecedented occurrence and typically these sorts of ordeals can be handled in an awkward thirty second CNN sound bite in which the hosts mispronounce some names and show a heavily blurred picture for God knows what reason. But this time was different. Set aside the fact that the leak contained some very high profile names (Jennifer Lawrence, Kate Upton, Kirsten Dunst). This leak exposed a complicated system of hackers who evidently run an underground nude picture trading ring and have done so for years.

While you're busy washing the ick off and plastering post-it notes on your webcam, allow me to get to heart of this issue. What makes this recent invasion of privacy so relevant is that it is exactly that: an invasion of privacy. This isn't a fucking scandal. (Looking at you, TMZ) It was a scandal when Anthony Weiner dangled his namesake in front of the camera for a woman who wasn't his wife. It was a scandal when we found out that the NSA was spying on us while we scrolled through pictures of our friend's hot sister on Facebook. It was a fucking scandal when Nixon sent his cronies to go snoop around Watergate. Those are scandals because all of the parties involved in them shouldn't have been doing what they were doing. Taking naked pictures of yourself for either a friend, significant other, or yourself (why) is not a goddamn scandal.

Look, I'm not going to tell you that baring your all for the camera connected to a fucking satellite is an intelligent move. Because, frankly, it's not. But I'm not going to tell you that doing so is disgusting and unbecoming of someone of your stature. We've been sending naked pictures for years. I'm sure Cleopatra was carving her lady bits into a stone for Mark Antony back in the day. Point being, instead of clutching our collective pearls and fanning ourselves over a couple pictures of boobs, maybe we should be focusing on the fact that there is a complicated system of hackers rifling through our shit and showing it to everyone. This was a violation of privacy for many people and boo-hooing the state of America and "oh lawdy the CHILDREN" is not helping anyone but the hackers.

I'm cynical enough to accept that there's no way we're going to stop this sort of behavior completely. I'm not expecting people to riot in the streets and call for these creepy guys to get strung up by their ankles. I do, however, expect a society that purports to be progressive to have a little more savoir faire in these instances and back off the victim blaming just a bit. We have a common enemy here and it is not boobs. Just something to think on.

A Eulogy for Robin

There isn't much that can be said that hasn't already been said. But that doesn't mean it doesn't bear repeating.

Today, we lost a great man. Like many of you, I was shocked to hear the news. I wanted to know why someone who brought me so much joy would suddenly extinguish his own life. I was even a little bit angry. But, when it comes right down to it, I have no right to be. I never knew Robin Williams personally and can never know the motives behind his decision. I do know what people tell me: That he battled addictions and depression all his life. Fortunately, I have the luxury of knowing neither of these conditions.

Having never suffered the demons that Williams battled with, I cannot hope to ever truly define him as a man. No eulogy I could ever write would ever be an honest and full depiction of Robin Williams. All I have to go on are those brief moments in which he shined through the screen and met me halfway, inviting me into the life of a man who filled every role he ever took with the life and passion of a thousand ordinary men. I can write about the first time I ever watched Good Will Hunting (my favorite movie of all time) and cried like a fucking baby when Williams, playing Matt Damon's therapist, repeated those four little words, "It's not your fault." I can talk about growing up with a VHS copy of Aladdin and laughing hysterically at the Genie, voiced by Williams, as he sang "Friend Like Me" or laughing hysterically at a loving father who, in an attempt to be near his children, dresses up like a female nanny....or laughing hysterically at every single Robin Williams appearance on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson with whom he had such great and lively chemistry.

I can even proudly say that, after watching Dead Poets Society for the very first time this summer, Robin Williams' rousing role as an unconventional professor of English brought my love of literature and writing back to life. Obviously, you could say that many of the scenes I've referred to above were written and scripted by other people and that Robin Williams was merely reading the words off a page. But that's where Williams' true talent came to the forefront. His talent for ripping words off the page and turning them into brilliantly funny, and often beautiful, performances that warmed the heart.

Strange as it may seem right now, Williams' greatest gift was his ability to bring energy and life to the world. And though he may have ended his own, I know that his vibrant soul remains in every single person that ever had the pleasure to watch him, know him, and meet him. He was infectious and I never met a single soul that didn't glow at the mention of his name and his movies.

It is both difficult and awkward to write a eulogy for a man I never met. But I would be remiss if I did not pour my heart out for a man that, in no small part, shaped who I am today, if only through the medium of my television.

I imagine, being a comedian, that Williams would be disappointed in his fans for sending him away in tears. He would have much rather preferred that we smiled, laughed, and remembered the good times. Unfortunately, not being a scholar on the subject of Robin Williams, I do not have a substantial record of his thoughts on death. What I do have is an episode of Louie wherein Williams and Louis attend the funeral of a mutual "friend." Later, at a diner, they both confess their mutual hatred for the man and laugh about how big a piece of shit he was. Recounting how he used to always pester them about attending his favorite strip club, they both decide to honor him by going themselves. When the strippers hear about the death of their friend and frequent patron, they all cry and a sad 80s ballad is played over the loudspeaker in his honor. Afterwards, a scene cuts to Williams and Louis exiting the club and, after looking at each other for a beat, they burst into a fit of laughter. As they're saying their goodbyes, Williams says to Louis: "Hey, would you do me a favor..."

 Louis knowingly nods and says, "Oh, I'll go to yours."

Williams smiles and adds, "Whoever dies first."

They laugh once again and part ways.

A Movie Review of Paranoia, the Worst Film of the Decade

                             

"I wonder how many movies are just a bet someone in Hollywood lost." This is the only justification I can conceive of as I watch Paranoia. It is unbelievably bad. Even the presence of movie stars the likes of Gary Oldman, Richard Dreyfuss and Harrison Ford can't salvage any sort of value from this train wreck. In fact, hiring A-listers for this movie is an absolutely insane move that I still can't wrap my head around. It's like enveloping a turd in a couple of hundred dollar bills and handing it to someone like a disturbed lunatic who honestly thinks someone won't notice that there's a pile of shit underneath.

Set in New York City and written by someone with an outdated understanding of the Brooklyn-Manhattan dynamic, the backdrop serves merely as an aesthetically appealing and familiar setting to assure the viewer that this is actually a movie and not some shitty YouTube video your friend is trying to show you. Evidently written by foreigners with a cursory understanding of cinematic platitudes, I can only imagine the script was conceived by throwing a blindfolded writer in a room who was then told to point at random words written on the wall until there was enough to fill and hour and half. 

                                          

Not only is the dialogue clunky, but Liam Hemsworth's deliverance of it is marred even further by a completely emotionless performance. He's like a barely sentient cardboard cutout that finds its way into scenes with the intention of displaying its biceps. He reads his lines like a Garmin GPS giving directions, occasionally raising his eyebrows to demonstrate that he's at least an expensive animatronic. But Hemsworth isn't the only aloof thespian in this merry band of players. His friend and archetypically nerdy friend wanders in, apparently reading his lines on the palm of his hand when we aren't looking. I expect this type of acting from a kindergarten play put on before a sea of miserable parents. I'm 20 years old and I already know what it feels like to be disappointed in a child.

There's a plot, or so I am led to believe by the dialogue that vaguely implies a preceding scene. This elusive storyline opens on a business team lead by Hemsworth, presumably because he was bigger than the rest of them and established his dominance by beating his chest on the first day. His team is made up of the aforementioned nerd, an annoying guy in red pants that just has to be a producer's son, and two girls to balance out the averages.

The acting delivered by this supporting cast of characters ranges from amateur to "reading the script behind a Wendy's and hoping it doesn't end up being porn." Needless to say, this distracts almost entirely from the atrocious script that underlies this parade of vomit inducing "acting." So it least it has that going for it.

During the brief times I occasionally noticed the plot, I learned several things: there is only club worth going to in New York City and it's got a very patient bouncer with an iPad, Amber Heard really wants Liam Hemsworth to leave her alone, Gary Oldman is better at chess than Liam Hemsworth, and that the script was clearly written by a man that just discovered that feminism was a thing. You almost can't get mad at the innocently sexist overtones during every conversation concerning females. Almost.

Amber Heard brings an irritation to every scene that brings out some of the best acting in the film. To be clear, this is still pushing against the tide of an absurdly bad script, but her perpetually miffed demeanor is accomplished in part by what must be honest and real revulsion towards the lines she is being forced to read. Cast as the clichéd and, frankly, rather insulting "bitchy, irritable woman trying to break into the boy's club," you can almost see Heard lift her head up from the script after every scene and sigh, "Really, guys?"

                             

It's a full thirty minutes into the movie and there still hasn't been a sturdy groundwork laid. The already shaky plot coupled with a weak script comes tumbling down before it can even announce its presence. The next hour is spent picking surviving plot points from the wreckage, piecing together a mediocre story from the disaster. The time between actual meaningful, story driving dialogue increases as the movie progresses, leaving long periods of awkward dead air in which the actors stare at each other, visibly uncomfortable.

The arrival of Harrison Ford on to the scene only drives the stake deeper into the writhing carcass of this film. There's something morally deplorable about watching Han Solo/Indiana Jones fumble through a script so rife with terrible lines at it physically pains him to read it. I can only imagine Ford is here to make enough money to buy his wife a nice birthday present.

At this point in the plot, about halfway through the movie, things are just sort of fucking happening with no rhyme or reason. There is no attempt being made to connect things and it's rapidly devolving into anarchy. Characters pop out of nowhere to say shit. Hemsworth's friend randomly shows up at his office to bitch about the job he didn't get in a Tucker Carlson inspired outfit that makes you wonder why he should have gotten it in the first place. But bemoaning the lack of connection with the characters in this travesty seems like a hat on a hat. There isn't even a shadow of an expectation that the audience should feel empathy for any of these bland caricatures. Besides Hemsworth's mildly sick father and a passing reference to his long dead mother, the emotional charge is nonexistent, opting for a series of situations in which ridiculous sounding humans exchange clumsily written scripts until someone tells them that they can go home.

Ford's gruff and prickly temperament eventually can't contain itself any longer and comes across through the script as tired and just-fucking-through-with-it. He delivers every line with the hope that it will be the last thing he has to say. Part of you hopes that they'll have mercy and kill off his character so that the poor man can go home and spend his remaining time on earth with his family.

                            

The story doesn't build up to an ending so much as it runs flailing towards the finish line, falling in a pathetic slump at the end. The final thirty minutes of the movie are spent desperately trying to convince you that there is some sort of suspense to be felt, but instead you're left with the impression that several out of sequence events were edited together to finish up a movie the actors lost heart in during their initial five minutes on set.

Much like Hemsworth's character, the movie aspires to be a Gordon Gekko but only ever amounts to an incompetent and, inevitably, unsuccessful Jordan Belfort clone. Cashing in on the most recent spike in douchebags trying to make it big, the movie hits all the buzz words (finance, technology, espionage) without any of the complexity. A superficial pile of trite and incoherent crap that barely qualifies as a film. Ultimately, the movie produces no apparent moral, offers up nothing in the way of critical thought and fails to resonate at all, leaving only the lasting impression of nausea that one normally associates with consuming 90 minutes worth of shit.

On a scale of 1 to 5 stars, I give this movie the faint blinking of a passing airplane you mistook for a star. 

As you may have noticed, the above is a movie review. Not my normal purview, but in trying to expand this blog's reach, I thought it may be interesting to watch a really bad movie and review it weekly. This is the first test of that feature. Hopefully you like it! If it gets enough of a response, I may continue this as a recurring post. If not, it will languish in the halls of failed blog features. Either way, hit me with your feedback and give any blog suggestions you have. They may or may not be taken into consideration. Thanks for reading! 

Let's Talk About the World Cup

As a purveyor of all things current and relevant, I would be remiss if I didn't address the most current and relevant thing of all: the World Cup. Typically, as an American, I would not give two shits about an event that is no more or less interesting than the various ball-oriented past times of my home country. Why the global community has such a fascination with kicking a ball back and forth down a field will forever be a mystery to me. But this World Cup has been a wellspring of news beyond mere sports related events. Indeed, it would seem that for the first time, the World Cup's games are being overshadowed by the wheelings and dealings of the sinister corporation behind it. I am, of course, referring to Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA). Known to most Americans (as John Oliver hilariously pointed out in a recent segment) as the best selling video game series, FIFA is the governing body for all soccer related events. Admittedly, most of the information I will present in this post and the initial inspiration for it originated from the aforementioned Last Week Tonight with John Oliver segment (seen below). I am presenting this information in text form for ease of access and to further drive the point home that the World Cup is, honestly, sort of evil.

Look, to start with, allow me to say this: the people playing soccer ("futebol", for the stickler assholes among you) are not inherently nor overtly evil. They are, I am sure, playing for the love of the game. Furthermore, fans of soccer (futebol) are not responsible for knowing every single detail about the background corruption of their favorite event. How could you possibly know that FIFA is pretty much the Council of Villains trying their very best to replace lower income countries with giant soccer fields? That said, with recent details coming swiftly to light, you are becoming more and more responsible for being aware of the sordid details that are bubbling to the surface. Knowing what is now public knowledge will put you in sort of a moral dilemma when it comes to tuning in to the World Cup tonight (or today, depending on where you are). This is good. This means you still possess empathy. Let's put that empathy into action, shall we?

First of all, let's overview what the hell is even happening. I'm sure you're aware that there have been protests in Brazil concerning the World Cup. If you're like me, you probably dismissed this as crazy soccer fans angry over game-related decisions. This is, decidedly, not the case. The true cause of all this unrest centers around the exorbitant amount of money that the government has spent/is spending on the World Cup/2016 Olympics. Because some genius thought that a country like Brazil could handle the two largest international sporting events in the world within the span of two years. At an estimated $11 billion, this World Cup is over twice as expensive as the South African World Cup and the most expensive one to date.  So what, right? Big events require big money. True, but when the money is coming at the expense of an infamously income disparate population, one starts to question the importance of a fucking soccer game. At least, that's what the majority of Brazil is questioning.



A recent Pew Research Center Poll found that 61% of respondents believed that the World Cup would be bad for their country. Alas, they were right. To start with, the claim that Brazilian merchants would benefit from the World Cup is absolute horse shit. According to CNN, only official partners of FIFA are allowed to sell their wares within the stadium, eliminating the ability of native Brazilian merchants to hock their merchandise to the majority of interested parties. But beyond merely screwing the local businesses out of selling their shit to the onslaught of tourists, FIFA and the World Cup have managed to give the finger to even the most remote members of the population. Manaus, a city known for being really far away from everything else, is the host city for several games, namely the current (or recent depending on how fast I am) Italy-England game.  It also has no home team and its $270 million stadium will probably go mostly unused after the World Cup. Now, this may be unsurprising to a country as adept at wasting money as the United States is, but for a developing country like Brazil, this is absolutely abhorrent.

Of course, Brazil's denizens have responded appropriately with protests led by organizations like the Homeless Workers Movement and public transport workers (among many others) but they have been met with a brutal police force armed with tear gas and rubber bullets. Their outcries are an attempt to highlight the crimes mentioned above along with the plain and simple fact that FIFA is using the World Cup as an excuse to bleed Brazil of its resources and money before leaving with most of the profits (an estimated $4.5 billion). Furthermore, FIFA will be exempt from all taxes during their gleeful romp through Brazil, managing to deprive Brazil from even profiting off of having the World Cup there in the first place.

Not content with merely shoving their hand up the collective ass of Brazil, FIFA decided to start shifting things around a bit too. Eleven years ago, in response to alcohol related violence, Brazil banned the consumption of alcohol within stadiums. This seems like a reasonable solution for curbing the violence associated with a historically violent group of fans. There's just one, y'know, minor issue: Budweiser is a World Cup sponsor and they would like for their shitty beer to be sold at the games. "No problem!" says FIFA. FIFA's secretary general, John Valcke assured the media that having beer at the games was something that "we won't negotiate." Eventually, through a process that you can read about here, FIFA was able to get Brazil to lift the ban of alcoholic beverages for a month. Which, if you don't think about it, seems nice and fun. But if you do think about it, you realize that a corporation just bullied a country's government into briefly repealing a law at the behest of a massive alcohol company.

But this is just a taste of the every day villainy that FIFA takes part in, ranging from bribery accusations to, well, more bribery and corruption accusations. Headed up by perpetual evil emperor Sepp Blatter, FIFA is a veritable den of underhanded dealings and general fuckery. The latter including Blatter's hilarious assertion that FIFA is a non-profit organization (with $1 billion in reserves) and his eye-roll worthy sexist comment about how women's soccer could gain more attention if they put the women in shorter shorts. As for the future of the World Cup, a quick viewing of the above video will reveal how Qatar, the "lucky" 2022 World Cup host country is, for all intents and purposes, a slave state whose citizens will have no choice but to help set up in anticipation for a bunch of shitty, drunk soccer fans.

I started with it and I'll end with it: lovers and players of soccer are not to blame for the god awful events transpiring as a result of FIFA's ultra-capitalist endeavors. And, aside from a few douchebags, including noted asshole, Ronaldo, I do think most people see the rising unrest in Brazil as a real problem that deserves attention. Look, I doubt you're going to stop watching the World Cup just because some guy on the internet told you it was evil (even though it is) and I wouldn't expect that from you. What I do expect is a level of social awareness when you are watching this year's festivities. I'd like for you to keep in mind that all of this enjoyment is coming to you at the expense of millions of people in a developing country who aren't likely to see a dime when it's all over with. With that in mind, I'd like you to reconsider how much undying support you show for the next World Cup. And, as always, I'd just like for you to be mindful of everything you see or hear. Soccer is fun (I guess...) and is meant to be pure, unadulterated enjoyment for the masses. Unfortunately, some assholes in Switzerland decided they were going to take advantage of this almost blinding allegiance to the game. Don't let them take advantage of you.

Can We Stop Trying to Define What Beauty is For Women?

As you may recall, back in February I wrote a rather incendiary response to the idiotic article everyone was passing around on Facebook titled "The Actual Difference Between Women Who Are Hot And Who Are Beautiful." Mistakenly, I assumed this would make a difference in the world of vague and badly written articles. I never thought the author would ever actually read my blog post, but I had thought that my ounce of reason might permeate the cosmic stupidity and perhaps dissuade the collective unconscious from writing these fucking things. But either life doesn't work this way, or the amount of stupidity being poured into the air was enough to overpower my attempts at reason because another one of these trite and useless ramblings has been vomited on to the internet.

Unsurprisingly, "10 Things That Make A Girl Beautiful Instead Of Hot" is a product of the same stupid website (Elite Daily) and the same clueless writer (Lauren Martin). Ms. Martin, having not been satisfied with her per view paycheck from the last foray into frivolity, has decided to reinvigorate the argument between hot and beautiful by taking advantage of my generation's short attention span. Admittedly, she does acknowledge her earlier article, but she clearly didn't go back and reread it considering she wrote this fucking thing. Further buying into the Buzzfeed model (one that I, painfully, have tried out in the past), she has gone ahead and reduced this really "powerful" topic into a damn list.

But before we get to her inane checklist of beauty, let's start from the top. Because honestly, the first two sentences are, by far, the most hilarious part of the whole damn article.

Beautiful. It’s a powerful word, one not thrown around as frivolously as hot, pretty or any of the hundreds of words we’ve come to describe women,

Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. In your last article, literally half of the damn page was you throwing around the word "beautiful." If, for some reason, anthropologists were trying to decipher your writing a thousand years from now, the only word they'd be able to use to describe it would be "frivolous." Frivolity is the foundation of your very career. But speaking of frivolous use of the word beautiful....

It’s a word that holds power and prestige far beyond that of any other adjective. It’s a sacred word, one kept for those who truly can’t be described any other way. 

I agree wholeheartedly. Had you written nothing else in your entire life besides these two sentences, I might even consider you to be a level headed human. But you've already shat all over the sanctity of the word beautiful by spewing it all over the last article you wrote. Speaking of which....

We’ve already debated the differences between hot and beautiful, but we never really answered what exactly makes a woman beautiful...

YES YOU HAVE! THAT'S LITERALLY ALL YOU FUCKING DID IN YOUR LAST ARTICLE! DO YOU HAVE THE MEMORY OF A GOLDFISH?

From your Feb. 13 article:

 
Hot is admired from afar; beauty is to be held.
Hot is perception; beauty is appreciation.
Hot is smokey-eyed; beautiful is bare-faced.
Hot is an appearance; beautiful is more than skin deep.
Hot is the way she moans; beautiful is the way she speaks.
Hot is a strong appeal; beautiful is strong mind.
Hot is youthful; beautiful is ageless.
Hot is conventional; beauty is unique.
Hot is a one-night stand; beautiful is sleepless nights.
Hot is a state of being; beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Hot is devious; beautiful is innocent.
Hot is bending her over; beautiful is baking her blueberry pancakes.
Hot is sultry; beautiful is wholesome.
Hot is her curves; beauty is her nerves.
Hot is a text message; beautiful is a love letter.
Hot is a facade; beautiful is a woman.

I mean, for God's sake, you defined the SHIT out of beauty and what it means to be beautiful. You defined it so much it became absolute gibberish by the end. But, I digress. This post isn't about your last article; it's about your most recent infraction upon the human race. Because as much as you would like to claim that you are imparting some helpful advice upon the ladies and that you're doing some service to womankind by making them feel better about themselves, you're actually doing more harm than good.

Lauren, you can't make a list of criteria for what defines a woman as beautiful because, as I mentioned in my last response to you, you can't define beauty. It's purely subjective. Both looks and the ethereal beauty of a woman are in the eye of the beholder because the "soul" (as you define it) is not some across the board thing that deserves everyone's respect. Every "soul" is different and varies woman to woman. News flash: Just because you are an honest and independent woman does not mean you are beautiful. In fact, you may be an utter shithead. And that's fine! But don't expect me to sit here and bat my eyelashes over how fucking great and spiritually inspiring your soul is.

But the harm resulting from your attempts to define beauty extend far beyond merely insulting my intelligence. You are, effectively, doing the same thing that sex-starved men do when they define what a "hot piece of ass" is. Because, you see, when you make a list of what "defines" a beautiful woman, you are pretty much saying that women who want to be beautiful should live up to these qualities. You are implying that women who aren't "tight lipped" or those who DO "chase the limelight" aren't beautiful. In breaking beauty down into a list of ten stupid, arbitrary things, you have missed the entire point of your attempt. Now, do I think you are attempting to shame women into acting a particular way? Of course not. I think you're bad at forming thoughts, but I don't think you're intentionally cruel.

Your initial goal was to unburden women from the expectations of society. It was to tell women that they don't need to look or be a certain way to appease men. And that's good; I agree with this assertion. What I don't agree with is creating an alternate list of criterion that a woman of beauty must now live up to. You have now burdened women with expectations of inner beauty. In some ways, this is even worse than telling women how to look sexy. Because in doing this, you've given a guidebook that no woman could ever truly live up to. Because beauty, as I have already mentioned, is not something that can be defined or universally applied. It is unique to every woman and man (or woman) who sees it in her. That's what we should be telling women.

Ladies reading this article: Don't buy into this bullshit about "true beauty" and yada fuckin' ya. Don't listen to Lauren Martin, don't listen to Elite Daily, and certainly don't listen to me. I'm as flawed as anyone when it comes to giving advice. Instead, listen to your heart (or your fucking soul if that's your thing) and do your thing. Don't waste hours on the internet attempting to define your true self. Find it by doing shit you enjoy and being with people who make you happy. I'm not going to tell you to give up technology and to eschew materialism because those aren't the real problems. They are merely byproducts of a society so intent on defining itself that it ends up depressing itself in the process. The sooner you accept that you cannot be defined and that there is nobody on the planet that ever will, the sooner you'll find peace and happiness.

I don't know if you're beautiful. Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. But I won't lie to you and tell you that you are so that you can have three hours of affirmation from some internet asshole. Instead, I'll tell you this: You are an individual and you're probably beautiful to someone. No, not everyone will find you beautiful and some days you'll be more beautiful than others. But that's what makes beauty so amazing and so undefinable. It's fleeting. It's not something to aspire to, but something to appreciate. It's not always there, but when it is, it's.....well, it's beautiful.