Clarissa's Blog

At dinner, Klara stunned us with a completely unprompted, “Thank you, Mommy, for making this yummy food for Daddy and me.”

I didn’t teach her anything like this, I swear.

I finally understood how the brilliant idea of giving kids goodie bags at the end of birthday parties was invented.

“It’s time to go home. The party is over.”

“I’m not going home!!! I want to stay here with my friend Nora!!! I love Nora!!!! I’m not going! I’m not leaving my Nora!!!!! Don’t take me away from my Nora!!!!!!!”

“We get a bag with gifts and treats when we leave.”

“Bye bye, Nora! I got to go now.”

This is the prime example of the scary kookazoids I’m talking about. She could be straight from the Komsomol leadership seminars.

I’m terrified of these creeps.

I never thought I’d have a nice word to say about Gwyneth Paltrow and Goop, but after reading this piece by one of the worst reporters of the century, I kind of like her.

I can’t transmit the pouty nuttiness of the reporter with a single quote but I still can’t resist posting one:

The In Goop Health summit was perhaps the most gracefully and elegantly executed event I’ve ever been to. There was food everywhere — small plates of ancient grains and salads and not a brown avocado in the bunch. There was keto food (which create ketones), vegan food (which doesn’t use animal products), paleo food (made out of, I don’t know, dinosaurs). Syringes of CBD oil. Coffee with pea milk. Nothing was rushed. Everything was plentiful. Somewhere during my reporting, I had stopped thinking about food deserts and people who didn’t even have access to ancient grains.

And it’s all like that. I now need a remedy to wipe this horrible, self-infantilizing, prissily virtuous writing from my brain.

The problem that progressives face today is that a growing number of people wonders what’s their next step after declaring that

– the phrases “pregnant women” and “a woman’s right to abort” are hugely offensive

– doubting the usefulness of trigger warnings “retraumatizes victims of sexual assault” [a real quote from a real person]. Which to me sounds like saying that your doubt of something completely extraneous is the same as rape.

– trying to address low graduation rates among male African American students makes you a white supremacist.

– the word “women” needs to be excised from newsletters of a feminist organization because it’s alienating and not inclusive.

These are not examples from the media. These are examples from my life and they all took place since April. If I were to go to the highly publicized stories, I’d find much worse. These are instances of complete and utter kookiness that scare people away. And if there are progressives who are opposed to all this, they aren’t making that widely known.

And it’s hard to vote for candidates who are enthusiastically supported by these folks. We all know how they are. You give them a finger, and they devour you whole like a bunch of starving alligators. We agreed that it was an acceptable thing among normal people to use the expression “trigger warnings” just to humor these wackos. And five minutes later, they are calling you a rapist for mildly doubting the concept. I don’t even want to know what the next step is if we humor them some more. It’s impossible to trust a politician who keeps them close.

Ten years ago, I proudly called myself a progressive. Now, I hear the word and I scram because I know there is a high likelihood of angry lunacy occurring.

And yeah, yeah, not all men / Trump supporters / progressives. Definitely. It’s still not helping when I see a candidate who seems OK but the kookazoids are crazy about her and I just have to wonder what’s wrong with her (him, them, it, whatever) if they are so enthused.

If fish costs a ridiculously low amount in summer, I’m sure we all know what this means. But I’m working on a new article, so my head is in the clouds. I brought the poor creature home and left it overnight in the fridge.

On the next day, I opened the refrigerator and did notice it stank like a skunk. But I was still mulling over the article, so I stuck the poor, tortured cod in the oven. While it cooked,I decided that the canalization broke down and kept trying to smell out the toilet.

It was only when I forced myself to start eating the nasty thing that I finally realized what was causing the ungodly fetor. And now I have no idea how long it will take to get rid of the stench in the midst of a heat wave.

August 3 is the day I got married to my first husband. So this day has stunk for 23 years.

Guess who’s on level 700 on Candy Crush?

What helps me win are the same qualities that I appreciate in life. One is never to give up, even if things seem completely hopeless. I haven’t abandoned a single level, even if it was obvious I’d lose. Because you never know what stroke of magic luck can save the round in the end. And if there’s no magic, you can use the losing round to practice your moves for the future.

There is yet another blowup over a journalist who made an ass of herself on Twitter.

I know I never mentioned this before, but I passionately hate Twitter.

I discovered that when Klara goes to bed, she doesn’t sleep. She spends the next hour and a half playing in her crib, singing songs, and pretending to read a book. On her own! She could do that this whole time!

I feel completely cheated.