People who waste air that we breathe

Just when you think the story of poor little 10 year old Zahra Baker can't possibly get any worse...it does. If you want to know the story and don't, google it. I just...can't.

Here's where my mental illness shows itself. Be warned. It's not pretty.

I do know that I have several ideas for her gaping useless cuntslime of a stepmother that involve razor blades, salt and rubbing alcohol and ALL of her bodily orifices. AND OMG WHY HASN'T HER WANKSTAIN DOUCHECANOE FATHER BEEN ARRESTED ALREADY? Even if he didn't actually kill the child, you know he knew. People like this just need to stop wasting air, seriously. If you ever have a thought of doing these things to a child, or letting these things happen to a child around you, do the entire world a favor and kill yourself now. Preferably by rolling in broken glass, taking a salt bath, dipping yourself in gasoline and setting yourself on fire. Then have your bodies dumped in a large hole in the ground so that every abuse victim in the world would have the option of taking a huge dump on your remains. After that, open it up to include everyone else in the world who had to crap. I, myself, would eat a very large mexican meal and bring along some ex-lax.

Because everything I just said in the above sentence...preferable to what happened to this child.

Miranda Lambert's Gunpowder and Lead: A Life Lesson

Crosspost from my MS blog



County road 233, under my feet
Nothin' on this white rock but little ol' me
I've got two miles till, he makes bail
And if I'm right we're headed straight for hell

I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
Wait by the door and light a cigarette
If he wants a fight, well now he's got one
And he ain't seen me crazy yet
He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
Don't that sound like a real man?
I'm gonna show him what a little girl's made of
Gunpowder and lead

Well it's half past ten, another six pack in
And I can feel the rumble like a cold black wind
He pulls in the drive, gravel flies
He don't know what's waitin' here this time

Hey I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
Wait by the door and light a cigarette
If he wants a fight well now he's got one
And he ain't seen me crazy yet
He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
Don't that sound like a real man?
I'm gonna show him what a little girl's made of
Gunpowder and lead

His fist is big but my gun's bigger
He'll find out when I pull the trigger

I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun
Wait by the door and light a cigarette
If he wants a fight well now he's got one
And he ain't seen me crazy yet
He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
Don't that sound like a real man?
I'm gonna show him what a little girl's made of
Gunpowder and,
Gunpowder and lead

Gunpowder and lead, yeah

Hey!

-------

Seriously? I believe every woman who's ever been abused by some douchey little wannabe punk ass motherfucker should take this song to heart. I wonder how many abusers have been shot in the face after this song was written?

The world is a better place without them. Sorry, that's how I feel. You raise your hand, you got it coming. Any man, hell, any PERSON ever raise their hand to hit me...well, they'd be lucky if I JUST shot them.

I'll tell you this much. I could be the nastiest, rankest woman, weighing 600 pounds, ugly as all hell even...and I would never, EVER, let a man raise his hand to me. I think I'd send said scumbag, spineless asshole to the hospital minus a few parts. And I promise...they'd be things that person would miss. Gotta love the Kill Bill movies. Also another amazing inspiration for angry women everywhere.

I still think it has to do with self esteem. There is no way one can value themselves as a human being, and allow people to treat them worse than they would a dog. I think that's why I have never attracted guys who are abusive. I am not the worlds most attractive woman, but I have always attracted guys who are at the very least, respectful to me, and would never raise a hand to me. Of course, reading the above, you can also guess why. You're looking at the woman who stood between one of her best friends and a drunk husband and got hit in the face TWICE without moving. Then I punched him back and shoved his ass out of the room. That shit don't fly with me.

I'm not afraid to get hit. But it would only happen one time. Then you'd better prepare to lose your two best friends. The ones in your pants.

We all know who I'm talking about here. But since this is a public blog entry, I'm not going to give his name. He's linked in a Friends Only entry a while back about a billion and one times though on my MySpace blog. Wannabe punk thumbsucking douche. Thinks he's a gangsta. Ha! If he ever met a real gangsta, he'd run home to his mommy with a load in his pants. The brown squishy kind. Speaking of his mother and loads, I wish she had swallowed that one.

If you REALLY want to know who I'm talking about, add me on MySpace, and go back a few blog entries. http://www.myspace.com/tiger_pixie