Just Don't Call Me Late for Dinner!

I like nicknames. 

I have a nickname for anyone close to me, and if I don’t yet I will eventually. Nicknames are reminders of something, some connection I have with people: inside joke, call back to another time, long-term use variation on their common name. 

Child of Thicke IS a big jaggoff. Oops, I mean 'dick'.

Changing the time signature, the instruments, or the binary gender of the vocalist (considering how many cisgender women buy into heteronormative male gaze standards) doesn't make misogynistic songs any less horrid.

I've heard rebuttals of Alan Thicke's son's (you betcha I'm not mentioning the child's name because he doesn't get hits even from my irrelevant blog) song...they creep me out because they're still pro-sexual aggression.

Laugh! Laugh, bitches, laugh!

I love laughing. In private or public, in a group or alone, I laugh loudly and often. Understated or ridiculous doesn’t matter. Satirical, absurd, surreal; droll, witty, erudite; rude, puerile, disrespectful—these jokes all make me laugh my head off.