Billions Who Starved

OK, I’ll try to stop but everybody who voted that they like my blog because I post a lot are to blame. And the banksters, of course.

Who could have known that Twitter is so good with providing valuable blogging material. See this most recent one from our new favorite, the Overt Dictionary: “The Lottery: even if you win the lottery, there are millions who lost, there are billions who starved.” If I’m not mistaken, we only have 7 billion people on our planet right now, no? So if billions starve for every lottery winner, how come we are still dealing with overpopulation?

The Overt Dictionary is so far off base with its definitions that it’s scary. (This is my first ever use of baseball terminology in my life. I must miss the US already).

A Different Source but Still Very Weird

The Twitter is a joy that keeps giving, people. I just discovered the following pearl of wisdom on the subject of London riots: “If banksters in the City of London were never allowed to loot these people to begin with, they would not resort to looting today.”

Of course, the banksters are to blame for everything in the universe. If the articles I submitted for publication get rejected, I’ll just know that the evil banksters made me write crappy articles. I don’t know how they did this, but it has to be them, right?

Feel free to share all the bad things the banksters made you do.

From the Same Source As Before

I’m sorry to bug everybody but I have to alleviate my BP that always goes through the roof when I encounter any kind of xenophobia, so I’ll blog until I feel better.

From the same source that inspired my previous post (I checked and this weird Twitterer is called Overt Dictionary): “Unemployment: an act which will eventually result in starvation, because raw physical hunger is used to discipline the deviant individual.”

Way to go beating down on the unemployed, Overt Dictionary. Just in case they don’t feel bad enough as it is, here you are to make their predicament sound even worse.

Who comes up with these ridiculous definitions, I wonder?

Unnaturally Speedy Sex

I’m annoyed and tried to distract myself by reading my Twitter feed for the first time in months. And this was one of the first bits of wisdom I encountered: “Pornography: a method of unnaturally speeding up human sexuality, the extreme McDonaldization of the human body.” I’m blogging from my phone, which means that quoting from Twitter is hard and the authorship of this bit of idiocy is going to remain shrouded in mystery for us.

Does anybody have any idea what this is supposed to mean?

Twitter is a place where weirdness comes to proliferate.

And to Conclude the MRA Debacle

To conclude the whole MRA debacle, I wanted to mention to those who are sitting there wondering why they have no personal life that if a single word that the stupid troll Eric said on the rape and child support thread made sense to you, you have your answer. This is why you don’t have a personal life. And you will have none while you keep listening to folks who spout this garbage.

If it’s worth it for you, then good for you.

I’m appalled at that whole thread and at how dense some people keep pretending to be. The MRA club is a place of loneliness and endless resentment. It can never be anything else. And while I feel for you and have compassion to how robbed you are of all happiness, I have no interest in offering you a space on my blog.

Go someplace else, stupid MRAs.


Can somebody explain to me why is it that whenever one is unhappy with one’s life, hates his job, feels his life isn’t going anywhere, it’s always Jews that are to blame? If those horrible, greedy Jews don’t pay you the salary you think you deserve, then why not just quit the job and go get employed with some generous people of some other ethnicity?

Also, if you can’t abstain from making Jew-hating speeches, can you make them in a place where no Jews are present at least? Because if on top of being an anti-Semite, you are also a stupid anti-Semite, that’s really too sad.

I just heard a vile anti-Semitic rant from my own cousin, people. When his dead-beat Dad – who had the wonderful luck of not being Jewish – threw him out of the house at 6 months of age, it was my father who took them in and took care of him. My horrible, greedy Jew father, that is.

I’m very upset right now.

How to Raise Loving Siblings?, Part III

3. Use the plural, not singular. For my parents, it was always “both of you” plural and not “you” singular. (In Russian we have singular and plural forms of the pronoun “you.”) Whenever one of us messed up in any way, both were blamed. Even today, my mother always says automatically,

“Your sister and you never listen to my advice on how to feed the baby!”

I’m not the one with the baby, my sister is. I haven’t fed any babies for over two decades. For my mother, however, it is impossible to single out one of us as being in the wrong.

In childhood, if one of us got a bad grade (which, in our family, was anything lower than an A), both were condemned as horrible students who’d end up in the gutter.

“Mom,” I’d say indignantly, “Molly is the one who got a B. I’m a straight A student. Why are you yelling at me?”

“Yes? And what have you done to help her not get the B? Huh? Both of you are disappointing me right now!”

People are always horrified to hear that we would both be punished for the mistakes of one of us. “But that is so unfair!” they say. “Why should a person be punished for what somebody else did?”

I strongly believe, however, that it was a brilliant strategy. Those childhood punishments seem so unimportant today when compared to the kind of solidarity that it created between us. Today, Molly and I lead very different lives. I have a lot more degrees but she makes a lot more money. She has her own thriving business but I have a lot of free time. She has many friends but I have a popular blog. I’m married, she isn’t. I’m childless, she is not. I weigh a lot more than she has. She can drive but I can’t. I’m autistic, and she is the epitome of NT. However, none of these differences have ever caused any kind of competitiveness between us. Since childhood, we saw each other as a team. It was never me versus her, but, rather, us against the world.

And that, I believe, is beautiful.

How to Raise Loving Siblings?, Part II

2. Don’t arbitrate. All siblings have petty fights and squabbles about trivial things that they perceive as hugely important. Of course, they turn to their parents to arbitrate their conflicts. Our parents, however, refused to do this every single time.

“Dad!” I would holler. “Molly tore my dress / bit off the nose of my favorite toy piglet / ate my homework / pushed me / spit on my book! Are you going to tell her that she is wrong and that she is a brat???”

“Go back to your sister and figure this out with her,” my father would invariably respond.

“But she is WRONG!!!” I would vociferate indignantly.

“I don’t care,” he’d say. “This is all between you.”

Of course, I would immediately be overcome with a sense of a huge injustice being done to me. Those useless adults! They never wanted to help one, even when one was absolutely right. What was the point of having them around anyways?

This intense dislike of unfair horrible adults needed to be shared with a compassionate listener who would understand my grievance. I’d go back to the room I shared with my sister.

“So what did Dad say?” she’d inquire.

“Well, you know how they are. Never willing to do anything one asks them!”

“I know!” Molly would say. “Remember that time when you hid my doll? They never wanted to punish you for that.”

“Useless people.”

“So true.”

United in our dislike of heartless adults, we would go back to playing together in perfect harmony.

Have You Missed Me?

I know I haven’t been as good as I usually am about answering comments yesterday, for which I’m sorry. First, I was traveling to Canada and then waging a battle with the very weird and limited system of connections in Montreal.

In terms of gaining access to the Internet, this isn’t USA, people. You either can’t get access, or you have to jump through hoops to get anything connected. The connections are slow, unreliable and unpredictable. My BlackBerry is pretty much useless here. I can use th iPad but it’s a very aggravating toy.

However, Montreal is beautiful and makes it all worth it, as usual. And it isn’t hot at all. I even remembered what it means to sleep without the AC.

Not to worry, I will win the battle with Canadian Internet. In the meanwhile, posts will keep appearing and I will keep answering comments. We have a small infestation of MRAs on the blogat the moment. Just let me know when you grow tired of them, and I’ll kick them out for good.

How to Raise Loving Siblings?, Part I

Here, I described my relationship with my sister which is absolutely the best and the closest sibling relationship I have ever had a chance to observe. I’m sure there are people who have just as great a bond with their brother or sister, but I am convinced that nobody in the world has a stronger one. I simply do not believe this is possible.

So what can the parents do to ensure that their children develop such a relationship? Here is a list of things my parents did. They obviously worked* because the result is spectacular:

1. Address sibling rivalry. When a child is used to being the one and only in her parents’ life, it might be traumatic to see a baby join the family and get the bulk of everybody’s attention. As a result, sibling rivalry might arise with anĀ olderĀ sibling trying to divert the love and the attention back to herself. When Molly was born, I was old enough to notice that I wasn’t the center of my parents’ universe any longer and, of course, I was very jealous. My mother addressed this issue once and for all with the following conversation (which she doesn’t even remember any more but which had an absolutely life-changing importance to a 6-year-old me):

“You must have noticed that I spend all of my time with Molly now, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I responded petulantly. “You don’t even play with me any more.”

“You see, ” my mother said. “I’ve known and loved you for six years longer than her. And this will never change. No matter how old you and Molly get to be, my love for you will always be six years longer.”

“Really??” I asked. “What about when I’m 28?” (That was the age of real senility in my 6-year-old mind.)

“Yes, when you are 28 and 48 and 68. Which is why right now I’m trying to make this up for her in a way by spending all this time with her. She is little and she might not understand this as well as you do. Do you want to help me make her feel almost as loved as you are?”

From that moment on, any jealousy I felt simply evaporated. I started feeling sorry for the little baby who was six endless years less loved than I was.

* I am not addressing a relationship between twins because it is very special and different from one between regular siblings, and I simply have no knowledge about how it works.