Clarissa's Blog

This is a Netflix documentary and it’s good but, unsurprisingly, very woke. Now that Puffy is in jail, he can be a convenient sacrificial victim. The documentary presents him as the source of every dysfunction on the rap / hip hop scene. Puffy seems to have murdered everybody. Tupac, Biggie, crowds of other people. The documentary even hints he organized a mass murder. And why is he such an exceptional (in the documentary’s telling) piece of shit? Because he’s not really black! How is he not black? We’ve all seen Puff, and he’s clearly very black.

But see, he’s not “culturally black.” Even though Puff spent his entire life promoting cultural products by black artists, he’s not culturally black. Because black culture is good. Yes, it is, what are you, a racist? If he were culturally black, he wouldn’t have murdered all those people, degraded all those women, and ended up in jail.

That’s the argument the documentary makes, and it’s moronic. Combs is a degenerate but his entire industry is filled with degenerates. He’s not at all exceptional.

The reason why I liked the documentary is that I love Puffy’s music. I love the music of every artist featured in the series. I grew up on it, I appreciate it a lot. An artist’s degeneracy doesn’t seep into my enjoyment of his art. Of course, it was also fun to find out the shocking details of these people’s sorry excuses for a life. It’s entertaining that the only crime it was possible to pin on Puff is transporting prostitutes which doesn’t sound like much of a crime at all.

One thing I find impossible to understand is why all these people can’t enjoy sex without having to do all sorts of perverted shit and ingesting a whole pharmacy full of drugs. Poor Puff had to go to extreme lengths to get it up even for sensationally beautiful women and long before he reached age forty. I must have very limited horizons because I don’t get why it would take so much effort.

The priest reminded us during service that last Sunday there has been no service because of the snowstorm. It completely blew my mind that it’s only been a week since that snowstorm. I had so much happen that it feels like it’s been a month.

From things I haven’t mentioned here on the blog yet, in the past week I threatened to sue my university and got them to pay me $1,200 as compensation for their dysfunction. Went on a killer date with N and on two outings with different friends at the same place. Discovered a fun fact about my new car after almost being stranded in a snow mound in it. Observed a night-time police chase that included a helicopter. Got sick, had to cancel my regular taping, and swiftly recovered. Read 3 books, did a lot of German, cooked up a storm, and it really does feel like last Sunday happened a very long time ago.

I’ve also played fetch with my cat, which is one sentence I never thought I’d write.

Another “it’s got to be genetic” moment is that today Klara started writing a book about her cat. She processes everything through writing. Like me, like grandpa, like great-grandma. It’s fascinating how this works.

Klara had a stomach bug and skipped a couple of days of school. While she was away, the teacher assigned the parts in the operetta the class is putting on. When Klara came back, there was no longer a part for her.

Klara didn’t cry, whine or complain about unfairness. She came home and studied the text of the operetta all evening. By next morning, she knew the entire text, including every song, by heart. She went back to school and performed the operetta for the teacher. The teacher was so stunned by this feat of memory and persistence that she rewrote the play to give Klara a large solo.

She’s exactly like me and N. It’s completely genetic, folks. I never told her to be like this. If anything, we coddle her and cater to her whims (cf the new cat).

I have no idea what you mean, friend. Is it a movie? I don’t watch movies. I watch TV. Speaking of which, N and I are rewatching Better Call Saul which is a masterpiece. The enjoyment of rewatching resides in the fact that I don’t remember anything at all from the show in spite of watching it a few years ago. Except for one scene with phones. If I’m going to remember anything from a show, it’s going to be a scene with phones. N finds it extremely cute that I don’t remember anything at all, and we sit there in a paroxysm of cuteness every evening.

Films are not my thing, though.

Since we talked about the Spanish political spectrum, this is the Spanish left:

🇪🇸 Irene Montero, Spain's former Minister of Equality and leader of Podemos, celebrates replacing native Spaniards:

"Of course I hope for replacement theory, I hope we can sweep this country of fascists and racists with immigrants."

Follow: @europa
pic.twitter.com/SbWp0qNKWr

— Europa.com (@europa) January 31, 2026

They are already at the stage of “of course, it’s happening and you must celebrate it or you are a Nazi.”

There’s Orthodoxy and then there’s another Orthodoxy:

Abortion should require FATHER'S CONSENT — Russia's Patriarch Kirill

Argues that husband's presence is crucial for reassurance and alleviating fears, as women might make emotional mistakes

Recalls Putin's words that decisions regarding children should be taken by both parents pic.twitter.com/PeJoHRqAEc

— RT (@RT_com) January 29, 2026

Choice Orthodoxy, ladies and gentlemen.

It would be funny if it weren’t so not funny.

I’m shocked by this letter in which a mother of three pretends to be a wide-eyed innocent who doesn’t understand why her 13-year-old daughter can’t stand the mother’s new boyfriend. There are women who would ignore every sign, feed their children to every monster just to prove they can attract a dude.

The mother knows the boyfriend is fishy. This is clear from her insistent protestations about how healthy this relationship is. But she doesn’t care because it’s all about sticking it to the ex-husband.

I went on social media, saw that a discussion has been raging for two days as to whether Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights is black, and realized that I will never be truly American.

This fixation on race is incomprehensible to me. Even my child tells me that “Grace is darker than Josette, and Tina is blacker than they both”, and I honestly don’t get it.