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i'm probably happier not knowing

i like to check what search terms lead to my blog, because, along with tracking which posts are the most popular, it's a good way of gauging what readers would like to see more of. some terms, of course, are just linked to a popular image that shows up high in google searches. others are actually indicative of what people are looking for. searches for dark coloured lipsticks- whether specific shades or in general- often lead here, which makes sense. searches for information on specific mental disorders often lead here, because of the currently dormant "mental health mondays" posts. i get that.

others are a little stranger, like "how do i apply lipstick from the tube?" or "where is my bipolar located?"

and others still are downright disturbing. you don't want to know how many searches for "anorexic porn" end up here. [specifically ending up on the "mental health mondays" piece about anorexia, which does have a nude, but clearly medical in nature, picture with it.]

and then there is this week's winner:

"rick santorum poop"

i'd just about recovered from the daily searches for either rick santorum or mitt romney gay porn, which, if it exists, would never, ever, ever, ever be posted here because i don't want to do that to you. or to myself. [although that's different than posting a picture of santo made from gay porn, which i have done. because that's just made of awesome. and penises.] but the idea that someone- correction- multiple someones- are out there searching for internet evidence of caca di santo is the sort of thing that makes me afraid to leave my house in the morning. do i know these people? have i shaken hands with them? what are they going to do with the results if their search is successful? what made them search for this in the first place?

so many questions. and there are probably answers to all of them. honest, disturbing answers.

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as long as you're here, why not read more?

jihadvertising?

i keep seeing this ad for tictac candies:



am i the only one who finds the suicide bomber clown at the end a little unnerving? all the nice natural things like the bunny and the [extinct] woolly mammoth and the fruit get devoured by a trying-to-appear-nonthreatening-but-obviously-psychotic clown who then blows himself up. congratulations, tictac, i think this ad has landed you on about a dozen watch lists.

oh and by the way, showing me that your product will somehow cause my stomach to explode in a rainbow of wtf makes me believe that doing consuming tictacs would be a worse dietary decision than the time i ate two raw eggs and a half a bottle of hot sauce on a dare.

mental health mondays :: the dangers of diagnosing

when you take a look at any reputable online source of information about mental health, it comes with a warning that anything you read on the site should not be considered a substitute for evaluation by a medical professional. so why are so many people jumping on the bandwagon to diagnose donald trump?

it's not uncommon for people to make glib judgments about the mental health of others, because we think that we understand what disorders entail. when i was working in offices, i noticed a lot of this: an immature and garrulous employee being labeled and partially excused because others were certain he had adhd, or a moody and indecisive boss dismissed as bipolar. [as you can imagine, that one struck me as particularly ignorant and, since i was the audience, ironic.] but in the case of trump, even professionals are weighing in on the subject. no fewer than twenty-seven psychiatrists have collaborated on a book called the dangerous case of donald trump. up to now, it's been unde…

making faces :: a winter tale

so this is it. we've reached the final season in our colour year. so far we've looked at spring, with its heart of citrus yellow, summer and its symphony of cool blues and autumn with its spicy bronzes and golds. and i'm still not sure i've found a good place to rest my face. i've chosen seasonal winners in each category, but are they really me?

it's a bit of a rhetorical question, of course, because i already had an inkling that my precocious childhood self might have been onto something when she declared herself a "winter". not that she knew what she was talking about, of course, but sometimes even fools say the right thing without meaning to. even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day. [unless you're in europe and use a twenty-four hour clock, which actually makes a lot more sense.]

as with all the other seasons, winter is divided into three parts, the true winter at the centre, flanked by neighbours who carry a hint of the adjacent …