Tag: Living

Can You Be Educated and Ignorant?

“What is education?” Sounds like a simple question. You think of education and you automatically think of a four-year college degree from someplace with a statue of a man on top of a 200-year-old building, shielding his eyes from the sun as if we are on the horizon of something really remarkable, here. (Namely a contentious game of flip cup, where anyone can go home a wiinnnneeeer!) When we think of education, we think of school—because that’s where education is

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Talking Trash: How It Helped Elect the World’s Most Dangerous President

“There’s your dad.” It was ~the line~ growing up. We’d race to see who could whisper it first: an elderly man jogging by with a wedgie; a New Yorker passing through with a gold medallion necklace; a guy down at the gas station missing too many front teeth; the bank teller who was just a little too stern. My go-to response was always: “Probably—want me to ask him out for ya?” This kind of banter was par for the course;

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Why Donald Trump’s Crude Messaging Lands With Rural Voters—Despite Notorious Christian Values

Alright, well: prepare your stomach for this one. Several friends from my hometown in Northeast Pennsylvania have forwarded me these images from the ground, and I’m forwarding them to you here in an effort to showcase what’s really happening in some places in rural America. This particular gem hails from Scranton, PA—ironically the hometown of Joe Biden—and it’s moving around the neighboring counties. This photo was taken in Hallstead, PA.     I will say: this is just one guy

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Can Americans Ever Like Each Other Again?

72.14% That’s a good chunk, right? Say, if I were to eat 72.14% of a Domino’s pizza, we’d all be like, “WHOA, ASH IS MURDERING THAT THING.” Similarly, if you were to drink 72.14% of the wine, I might murder you. This is an equal opportunity kitchen, thank you very much. Because 72.14% is pretty basically three-fourths of a whole, which is otherwise known as “most of it!” And in the year 2016, most of the people! in the rural

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A Note on Writing, Politics & What the Hell We’re Doing Now

Hey. I really wanted to send you a personal note (wait, who am I kidding, they’re all my personal notes) to say thank you. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being here. Thanks for sticking with me through a launch like we just completed. (I know sometimes my emails are…a lot. You should see how excitable I am in person.) I’m going to work even harder moving forward to get you what you need—whether it’s finding your voice, inspiration & ideas

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White Apathy and The Bullshit Argument That “They Could Help Themselves If They Really Wanted To”

Ten years ago, on Apr 25, 2010 at 11:56pm, I first published an opinion piece to The Middle Finger Project blog called, “White Men Can’t Jump, But They’ve Got Other Tricks Up Their Sleeves: The (Unearned) Privilege of Being White.” I remember writing it because even though I was only twenty-five years old (and my writing style less, ahem, sophisticated), these are the conversations I’ve been having for a decade—which I’m proud to say. This isn’t something I’m bringing up

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I Googled “How to Pit an Olive” and IT BLEW MY MIND. (You Need to Know This.)

So yesterday I’m making this pathetic puddle of a salad, right? My salads are the worst. We keep TRYING to make good salads, but the salads always turn out tasting like a Greek man’s back sweat. Never tastes like a restaurant salad, which I figure should at least taste like a Greek man’s mistress. But that’s okay because I’m really here to talk about the very important matter of Kalamata olives. Man do I love me some Kalamata olives. (Even

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Our * Book * Comes * Out * TOOOMORRRROWWWW— Plus a ~Secret Excerpt~ to Download and Read! 🤩

I AM SPILLING COFFEE EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!! TOMORROW’S THE BIG FREAKING DAY!!!!!!!!!!!! Tomorrow is when I’m going to make a complete ass of myself in bookstores all over Manhattan, as our book—THE MIDDLE FINGER PROJECT—will go on sale via all major retailers. (And if you did me the favor of pre-ordering online, thank you with all my crinkly little heart: books will be shipping straight to yo’ door and then you can tag me on Instagram and then we can laugh and

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What’s Your Little Ball? (Not to Be Confused With: “Your Little Balls.”)

I’LL SHOW YOU! …is definitely not what I was thinking when I sliced left with the knife. Alas, I applied as much pressure as I could: I wanted a nice, clean line. No mess. No more worrying about this particular…problem. I was determined to put an end to it now. But, Christ with a fungal groin infection, wallpaper is harder to cut than a human cadaver. I KNOW THAT’S WHERE YOU THOUGHT I WAS GOING WITH THIS. But I’ve personally

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I Tattooed My Eyelids! Or: On Just Showing the Friggy Frig Up

It feels like a teeny, tiny vibrator on your eyelid. And THAT, friends, is my description of what, precisely, it feels like to get your eyelids tattooed. Your eyelids! Ya fucking EYELIDS! [Said exactly like an Italian American woman in disbelief.] Because, surely, someone who has never gotten a tattoo in her life should start with her eyelids. ~Whistles and looks up at ceiling~ I KNOW. Why do I make these decisions? But to be honest, I didn’t even think

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