I am an admin for a FB group called Adult Children of Hoarders. I posted this today and thought it might be good to write into my blog as well. I have not posted much here in a very long time. This is rather important to me because I want to avoid becoming my hoarder mother and want to enjoy my life which is a good one.  Odd that I just typed that phrase. The first thing I said to my mother upon discovering she had died was "You could have had a good life."  Mental illness prevents us from having a good life.

I think it is fair to say we all struggle with our upbringing and the continued effects it has upon us. We all have some degree of becoming our parents and becoming hoarders. We all have some degree of "hoarding" but hopefully none of us are full blown ill hoarders like our parents. Even if we are, being in this group which is not to molly coddle and excuse a true ill hoarder, but to support we children, proves that we are aware and are trying to choose a different path from our parents illness. 

You may know enough about me to understand that I'm all about describing that pink elephant and tossing the closet bones on the floor next to that elephant. Keeping secrets, pretending something isn't happening, all those silly games have never worked for me. Putting cards on the table, showing your hand and playing the full deck is the only way to win the game. That is why some may chastise me for being harsh. To that I say, not gonna pretend what is is not.

 

This isn't a secret and I thought it might help someone in the group who feels and struggles in a similar way. I have ADD, never diagnosed but this Boomer daydreamed a whole lot in elementary school, and in the 1960's ADD was not a thing and certainly not for girls. It also screwed me up regarding a college degree because I was smart enough in high school to not have to study, but college kicked my arse with the ADD and studying so I never earned my degree. I also have persistent depressive disorder for decades and recently anxiety which kicked in when dealing with my dying HM in 2018 and subsequent emotionally tragic loss of five family members in 2019. Ha, 2020 had nothing on 2019. I have struggled with the undiagnosed ADD and depression for decades and have been talking to my GP forever about it. At my last annual, she referred me to a psychiatrist.

Now healthcare, especially mental healthcare in the USA fully sucks. I can't even begin to go into the frustration I have with my beloved stupid country, but needless to say there are millions of Americans walking around needing a little help with their mental health. Just a segue, there are very few in network psychiatrists / psychologists in my area (capital city of my state) and even those are not accepting new patients. My healthcare doesn't pay very much anyway. So because I NEED to break this cycle, I paid out of pocket; $420 for the initial consultation; all so that I can get some meds. Then when I went to the pharmacy, my insurance would only cover the name brand medication to which my share is $150 for 30 pills. I got the generic and paid $46 out of pocket. All I have to say about this is I'm so damned lucky that my husband has an excellent job and "good" healthcare with that job. 

 

The psychiatrist listened and I talked for an hour. Told him the Reader's Digest version of my childhood and family dysfunction. He agrees I have ADD (thus the generic Concerta), diagnosed the PDD and Anxiety. He and I were on the same page that one of the three things needed to break so I could deal with the other two. I found out that ADD can be co-morbid with depression and cause anxiety because tasks are not complete which causes more anxiety. So basically this ADD that I've had forever also loves to hang out with depression and anxiety. 

 

I see the ADD with my dead HM. I see many other things about her personality that lie within me as well. Things that IMO were symptoms of her larger mental illness. I feel fortunate that I can acknowledge them and work to not lose myself to them. I can't help but think the ADD at least for me, could easily slip into full blown hoarding disorder. I'm not there. I never will be. I'm hyper aware of the signs and symptoms. I have mini shameful hoards hidden about my home. I see them. I want to work on them, but ADD and depression and anxiety.

I've been on the meds for four days now. The biggest thing I notice? I am not perpetually exhausted. I am not needing to crash at 3 or 4 pm. I'm not brain foggy. My distractions are not controlling or overwhelming. I am able to pull myself back onto task. I put all the things I need to do on a sheet of paper. It is a full piece of paper. I wanted to get those tasks out of my brain. I am so tired of my brain spinning all the things I should easily be accomplishing but am not doing. Getting each item out of my brain and on paper seems to be allowing me to not spin those things and ramping up the anxiety. Seeing the "to do" list is not anxiety inducing for me; having them churn in my brain is because I worry that I will forget them.

When talking to the doc about my family. The relationship between my two dysfunctional parents and how it has affected my full sisters and our relationships: well that is a sentence fragment that I don't know how to finish. My siblings and I were definitely traumatized by the actions of our mentally ill mother and abused dysfunctional father. My mother was not mentally well as a child and young woman; revelations that have come closer to the surface since her death. People won't talk about this stuff when it could matter and only speak up when it is too late. I was luckier than my sisters because my mom managed to appear to hold it together for the first five years of my life when I was an only child. She then had postpartum depression with my middle sister and full on inability to function with my two toddler siblings. She slept her life away and her behavior went off the rails. The doctor even said well your mom was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, right? I laughed and told him he was the expert, but IMHO oh YES she was BPD. 

At the end of our session, I asked him how effed up crazy am I? He said, while your sisters experienced the worst of your mother's mental illness, you were still significantly traumatized. He said, unlike most people with this background, I came away strong, independent, assertive and advocate for myself. He said many people in my situation become perpetual victims. He did say that therapy to work on my negative hardness on myself may be beneficial.

So there is me. This is one of your admins. I'm not looking for sympathy at all because I do not need it. I share this with you because we ALL need to see our situation in other people so we can have a place to begin healing. Finding the original Children of Hoarder's yahoo forum over a decade ago, working on the COH, Inc board and with the NOLA summits has only made this shitty situation better for me. I still get 'aha' moments and insight from this group. You all help me and we all help each other.

Define Respect

re·spect/riˈspekt/

Noun:	A feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.
Verb:	Admire (someone or something) deeply, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements.
Synonyms:	noun.  regard - esteem - reverence - deference - consideration verb.  honour - honor - esteem - regard - venerate - revere

The use and definition of RESPECT has been a topic of discussion with my daughter for the last year or so.  I bet you think that is it me telling her she has to respect me because I am her parent.  Nope.

It is the misuse teetering on abuse of the word.  People bandy about  "respect" with no real clue as to the definition.

People demand respect. Expect Respect. People won't "give" you respect unless you have earned it. Not giving someone, what they believe is respect, can get you killed as in, "You be dissin' me" aka disrespect.

Respect does not mean kissing someone's boot simply because they exist. Respect does not include worship, blind following, total agreement. Bullies demand respect; bullies don't know what respect means.

As adults, we tend to throw this word loosely in the arena of child rearing on our children. Respect the school, Respect the teacher, Respect older adults, Respect the police man, Respect your aunts and uncles, etc.

cour·te·sy/ˈkərtəsē/

Noun:	The showing of politeness in one's attitude and behavior toward others. A polite speech or action, esp. one required by convention.
Synonyms:	politeness - civility - comity - urbanity - mannerliness

However, I think we mean for our children to be polite and courteous and we confuse these words as respect when I feel they are truly separate.

How do you define RESPECT without using the dictionary or using the word itself in the definition?


NOTE: Once again an entry that was half formed and not completed while it was on my mind.

Memorial Day Tradition with the Hoarder

The Hoarder Mom grew up in a little piece of Virginia that is actually nestled between Kentucky, Tennessee and west of West Virginia. Memorial weekend is a big deal there. The weekend is spent decorating the graves of ancestors; the ones you know and the ones you know only though stories. As people walk into the cemetery, you are asked if you brought "flares". The heavy southern accent makes "flowers" sound like "flares", so the first time my husband attended a Memorial Weekend "down home" for Decoration Day, he seriously inquired when the fireworks would begin.

A few years ago around the time my father (the original hoarder) became ill with rectal cancer, the parents came up with this grand idea to buy a second hoard ...er, I mean home in this small area of Virginia.  My mom lived in VA until the ripe ol' age of 2 before moving to Michigan with her mom and five siblings to join their father who left the coal mines to work at Ford Motor Company.  So as you can see, this is a very very important place chock full of experiences and memories for someone who lived there until two.  

It used to be fun to go there for Memorial weekend, when my grandparents were alive and would take us. When my great aunts and uncles were still alive. Before the second hoard home was purchased as a weapon to be lorded over everyone who coveted it. (Although I am still trying to figure out who wants to take it from her so badly and who is jealous that she has it.) Before my dad was buried at Miller's Chapel.

My meedle leedle seester, goes there every Memorial weekend. She likes to hang out with the second, third and beyond cousins of whom there are very few left. She likes, as do I, to walk amongst the grave stones to remember the ones we knew and the ones in the family stories. She likes to go to put flares on dad's grave and talk to him. I would like to do that too, but not with the mother around.


"Dinner for tomorrow is cooking. Will try to make a couple chocolate pies tonight. Gas in Virginia was $3.29 a gal. Will leave the kitchen door unlocked."

NOTE: I started this entry some time ago and don't remember where I was going with it. My HM is now dead and she will get the flares on Decoration Day.

My Trump-loving Father and I got into our monthly blow up yesterday about this very thing. He had the nerve to call me delusional for saying that R v. W is gonna be one of the first things our new republican overlords will go after. He told me to “get off the script” for saying this administration is coming for us gays and our audacious request to be treated equally under the law... and all I could say in return that it must be nice to not feel afraid.
“Must be nice, Dad, to feel so fucking secure in your rights. I wouldn’t know what that feels like, seeing as how I just barely got the right to marry Shane.” His response? “That won’t ever happen, the democrats are just stirring up their base with fear. The democrats are the violent ones! Where do you think all the violence is coming from? You can’t blame republicans for taking anyone’s rights away, that’s what democrats do. Get off the script!” (He does love his Rush Limbaugh catchphrases).
I’m at a loss. I don’t know how to talk to my Dad anymore. If he doesn’t like the sound of a fact, he calls it fake now. I don’t understand how my kind, caring, sensitive Dad has become such an empty-headed, blind supporter of such a dangerous mind-set within the last few years. Obama as president brought something hideous out of him and his political party, and it’s scary. And depressing, because I’ve lost so much respect for my Dad, which *hurts* to even write. He’s literally chanted “Build the wall” to me before, and repeated it just the other day. I’m at a loss... I don’t know how to defend myself or my views against someone so utterly, willfully blind. :-(((
Last thing I said to him was, “You have no one else to blame now. You guys control the reps, the senate, the white house, the judiciary, the governerships AND the supreme court. Everything that happens from this point forward will be your fault, because there’s no one left for you fuckers to point your fingers at. You can’t blame democrats or judges or brown people anymore, so when my husband and I suffer the consequence you will absolutely be to blame, and I’ll do my damndest to remind you of it.” -- Ellie Shechet

Credit for this goes to Ellie Shechet aka Poetjunkie. These words resonated with me.

Wrapping my head around how physical and mental domestic violence wrecks your brain

You may have seen a public message I posted to a young woman whom I’ve known since she was about 4 or 5 years old. She was a blonde blue eyed little cherub, full of joy and totally adorable. I especially liked her missing baby teeth stage.  She was delightful and I’ve always enjoyed watching her grow into a beautiful young lady.

A couple days ago, she happened to sit next to me at the nail salon I’ve patronized for 18 years. I said hello, asked how she was doing, asked about college; polite small talk. No big deal and no dramas. As she left, she approached me and said, “Mrs. McMahan, can I ask you a favor?” I didn’t hear her as I was talking to my daughter at the moment. She repeated herself and I replied, “Sure, if I can.” Out of her once sweet little cherub pie hole came, “Please keep my name and my family’s name out of your mouth.” In a bit of shock, it took me a second to comprehend and translate the ghetto speak. Of course, she didn’t want to stick around and explain to what in the hell she referred. I tried to stop her, but Freudian slipped and called her by her older sister’s name. She corrected me as the door hit her in the ass and she hustled to her car.

Ballsy.

Aside from her gall to speak to me that way, I was left wondering what, who, where, when I have ever had her name or her family’s name “in my mouth”?  I have never once ever uttered a single derogatory word about her or her family to anyone. So I’m flabbergasted as to where she came up with this fairy tale.

So now that the prompt for this story is set up, I’ll fill you in on the background. The background of what I assume she assumed was “in my mouth” aka gutter speak for gossip. Yep, she put a challenge in front of me and now will reveal what she feared I was sharing with the world.

Domestic violence, familial alienation, physical abuse and mental abuse.

The patriarch of her family is a stereotypical Russian “man’s man”.  When this young woman was about 12 years old, her father beat and I mean black and blue bruise beat her older sister. For what, I need not discuss because it is nobody’s business and it is irrelevant. A father should never beat his child like that. He shouldn’t beat his wife either and, I know his “reason” another thing to not share, yet he did. She was about 6 years old and probably not aware this occurred. Both of these wonderful young women grew up in a family with a domineering rather misogynistic father with the old country values and a mother who let him beat and disown her child.

The oldest sister in the only avenue available to her, fled to get away from the abuse and control with a few garbage bags of her clothing to live with her boyfriend’s family. At this point, the father and the abused mother essentially struck the oldest daughter from the family. She was, and I’m extrapolating this thought, made to be the most horrible, person on the planet not worthy of being part of the family. The younger sister, who once again was only about 12, grew up being fed this line of thinking. Did she have a choice? I assume not, as she has seen firsthand what happens to someone who goes against daddy dearest’s dictatorship and would not want to experience the same fate as her sister.

Fast forward a few years. The oldest daughter made mistakes due the abuse and lack of choices, but has earned a college degree, is away from the childhood boyfriend’s (ex-husband) family which is a whole other saga of control.  She is in an apparently balanced caring relationship with the father of her one year old daughter. She is doing very well. Still her parents refuse to forgive, forget or apologize for their atrocious behavior. The younger sister has been immersed in this ridiculous dynamic and has not had the maturity or strength to think for herself and reject the parent’s dialogue. She has a totally adorable and cherubic niece who she has not met and an older sister who loves her dearly, but because of her fear or lack of maturity or indoctrination with the kool-aide she is missing out on these relationships.

 Now I’m rather peeved at the silly remark and her smug satisfaction that she somehow put me in my place. What she doesn’t understand is that I have never revealed any of this saga to anyone. Until now. What she also does not know is I can empathize with her because of similar control and abuse experiences during my teen years. I don’t think about it. I don’t dwell on it. Yes, it shaped who I am, but does not control me going forward.

I grew up in a developing hoard with a mom who had trouble coping and an aloof father who was rather too strict. My siblings and I were beaten. Not spanked, beaten. When I was a senior in high school my dad beat me with a belt so badly that the back of my thighs were black and blue. I swam back stroke, so during a meet, taking off the blocks, those bruises were apparent to everyone. My father accused my mom of having an affair so in an irrational response she actually did have an affair. This put my dad over the edge and he began to be very verbally and physically abusive to my mother as well. Just after graduation my dad was in one of those moods and started after my mother. I was now 18 and no longer afraid of him. I took him down. I was sitting on my father with my fist pulled back toward his face. He was shocked. He never touched me again.  My father was also married once before so I have 3 half siblings.  I do not have relationships with them because of the parental and sibling alienation in which they were immersed. They somehow think I’m Satan with two tails. Their loss.  My mother, in her own ingenious way and mimicking the sibling interaction in which she grew up, has managed over the years to pit me and my two full siblings against each other. It works. There are times when we three do not interact because no matter how much we understand intellectually what she is doing; when that crap comes from your mom you still kind of believe it.

So the more I ponder on the weirdness of Wednesday, I forgive her for whatever it was she was trying to do. I understand more than she knows what her childhood has been like. I understand not wanting the rest of the world to know of the abuse and control she has endured under her father’s fist and her mother’s weakness. I will tell you this little one; grow up, break out of that box your parents have you trapped in, become your own thinking questioning adult, embrace your sister and niece. You have only 3 more years of college, then you will not depend on them anymore, become your own person. Open the closet and free the skeletons. Bones are not scary and you will be surprised how many people have the same set of bones. Oh and be careful to not accuse people who care about you of doing things they have not done. It just may end up in a blog.

Hoarder's Son: Talking Points for Children of Hoarders

Hoarder's Son: Talking Points for Children of Hoarders

Glittersnipe: GOP Jumped the Shark

http://www.glittersnipe.com/2012/08/29/2012-the-year-the-g-o-p-jumped-the-shark-lady-parts-edition/
Sharing the link and the cut and paste: this is so exactly brilliant and well spoken. I like to steal other's writings that reflect my own thoughts. Thank you glittersnipe. WBM


The theme song from Happy Days has been playing inside my head a lot recently. For anyone born after 1980, Happy Days was a hit sitcom in the 1970s that offered a nostalgic interpretation of 1950s America. It took place in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and centered around clean-cut teenager, Richie Cunningham (Ron Howard), and his family. Richie’s good friend was Arthur “The Fonz” Fonzarelli (Henry Winkler) who was curiously tough for his small size, and drew women to him, literally, with a snap.
No doubt, Barack Obama and Mitt Romney would give their eye teeth to have Fonzie’s effect on female voters this November. Romney’s VP pick, Paul Ryan, a Wisconsin boy himself, certainly sent some women swooning in the first days following his addition to the ticket. The piercing blue eyes, the serious hair, the P90x physique, and the devoted family man image are hard to ignore, to be sure. Little more than a week after the announcement, however, Ryan was on the receiving end of a female firestorm the likes of which hasn’t been seen since thrice-divorced family values expert and Bovine-American Rush Limbaugh called law student, Sandra Fluke a slut for speaking in favor of insurance coverage for birth control pills.
So what exactly caused the sudden disenchantment with Ryan? The hubbub was over Ryan’s connection and shared views with Missouri Representative Todd Akin — you know, Mr. “Legitimate” Rape? Akin and Ryan have cosponsored eight anti-choice bills in Congress; one of them (HR 212) gives fertilized eggs the same constitutional rights as people. This “Sanctity of Life Bill” would thereby render many birth control methods illegal, as well as criminalize in vitro fertilization since embryos are sometimes compromised in the process. Lest you think that Akin and Ryan acted alone, you should know that there are sixty-four cosponsors of this bill. All of them are Republican. And fifty-eight of them are men. Say what?

Goodbye grey sky, hello blue / There’s nothing can hold me when I hold you / Feels so right, it can’t be wrong / Rockin’ and rollin’ all week long.

In 1957, the average woman gave birth to 3.8 children. She was also a homemaker, or what we would today call a stay-at-home mom. After 1960, when the birth control pill was approved by the FDA for contraception, the average number of children per household began to fall. By 2011, that number dropped to two children born per average woman. Many mothers today work outside the home, sometimes by choice, but often by necessity, as the middle class cost of living has increased dramatically more than their salaries have over the past few decades. So what would happen if suddenly many forms of birth control were to become illegal? Hand over those IUDs and pills, ladies. It’s condoms, diaphragms or the rhythm method for you. Good luck! I hope your daycare offers a discount for siblings!
Mitt Romney has said that he is in support of overturning Roe v. Wade and letting states call the shots on abortion laws. If he is elected president and gets to appoint conservative Supreme Court justices, that is a very real possibility. The problem is that outlawing abortion won’t keep it from happening. It will only make it riskier.
In 1965, The National Center for Health Statistics cited 235 deaths reported from abortions that year. Of course the unreported number is likely much higher as abortion was not made legal until 1973.
Or just ask Romania. When the dictator, Nicolae Ceaucescsu came to power in 1965, his government outlawed abortion. The death rate for Romanian women having abortions rose 600 percent by 1982. In 1990, abortion was made legal again in Romania, and by 1996 the death rate had returned to pre-1965 levels.

Click to Share the Graphic

Legal abortion does not mean more abortions. In 2006,  Belgium, Germany, the Netherlands, and Switzerland, where abortion is legal, had an average rate among them of 6 abortions per 1,000 reproductive-aged women. In the United States that rate was 21 abortions per 1,000 reproductive-aged women. Meanwhile in places like the Dominican Republic, Peru, the Philippines and Uganda where abortion is illegal, abortion rates averaged 46 per 1,000 reproductive-aged women. The difference is education, and the availability of contraception. Outlawing abortion and limiting access to birth control will only serve to increase the number of abortions, as well as the number of women who will die from them.
One would think that alleged budget hawks like Romney and Ryan, who want to severely restrict entitlement programs, would see the pragmatism in granting more access to contraception — not less.
In 2000, 57 percent of abortions were for poor and low-income women. A total of 857,475 abortions were reported to the CDC in 2000, so that’s 488,761 additional children that would have required public assistance that year. Paul Ryan’s budget calls for a $46 billion cut in Medicaid, $36 million cut from food stamps, and drops 300,000 kids from the school lunch program. You do the math on how to support a growing number of children living in or near poverty with those numbers, because Ryan can’t, or won’t.
Paul Ryan’s disconnect from logic on this point is directly related to the two primary influences on his world view: The Catholic Church, and the author and self-styled philosopher, Ayn Rand. These two major influences could not be more antithetical. The Catholic Church is staunchly pro-life; against both abortion and contraception. However, the Catholic Church is also the largest charitable organization on the planet. Caring for the sick and the poor is paramount in the Church’s teachings. Meanwhile, Ayn Rand, whose Atlas Shrugged is required reading for Ryan’s staff members, was rabidly pro-choice and believed that there was no moral duty to help others; furthermore according to Objectivism (the Randian philosophy to which Ryan subscribes), altruism is actually a sign of weakness.
Unfortunately, and most confounding to many of us, is the result of the marriage of these conflicting viewpoints. All human life (no matter how few cells) is precious and must be saved without exception; until, of course, you are born and then you are on your own, kid. Get a job, little baby! Sadly, while Ryan is the poster boy, he certainly isn’t alone in this thinking. It pervades today’s Republican Party: forget the infant who requires Medicaid for basic medical care. All hail the zygote!
Make no mistake: No one is “pro-abortion.” We would all like to see the number of abortions drastically reduced, but we disagree on how to achieve that goal. Statistics have shown that outlawing abortion won’t make it go away, and it won’t even reduce it significantly. Education and readily available contraception will. And yet, Republicans are seeing to it that low income and uninsured women — those very women for whom an unplanned pregnancy could spell economic disaster — will not have contraception readily available to them.
Mitt Romney says that he will “get rid of” Planned Parenthood. Republican Congressmen have already attempted to defund Planned Parenthood, with H.R. 614. “Title X Abortion Provider Prohibition Act” which would prohibit any federal grants to be allocated to any entity that provides abortions. Never mind that in 2010, abortion services only comprised three percent of all that Planned Parenthood did. Defunding Planned Parenthood would deny millions of uninsured and under-insured women cancer screenings and preventative care, STD testing, contraception, and prenatal services. So between Romney’s promises to “get rid of” both Planned Parenthood and Obamacare, poor and lower income women and their children can look forward to a level of neglect unconscionable for an industrialized nation — let alone one that prides itself on being exceptional.
The clock is being turned back on women, and it is happening quickly. Women gained freedom in the 1960s with the advent of the birth control pill: they can delay having children until they are ready. With that reproductive freedom, women can have their own careers and thereby be financially independent. Planned Parenthood allows college women and women just starting off in their careers, the necessary health screenings and contraception they cannot yet afford on their own. It sets up young women to be able to compete in a man’s world.
In this recent power play by the right, women are being told that they won’t be making their own reproductive choices any more. Their options will be limited to what Big Daddy thinks is best. It’s a return to the fifties without the benefit of Eisenhower’s moderation or progressive vision.

Sunday, Monday, happy days / Tuesday, Wednesday, happy days / Thursday, Friday, happy days / Saturday, what a day / Groovin’ all week with you.

In the fifth season premiere episode of Happy Days, which aired in September 1977, the central characters visit Los Angeles. While at the beach, the Fonz decides to face his fear of sharks by jumping over one on water skis. He does this in his trademark black leather jacket and a pair of swim trunks. This absurd departure from previous seasons, which had featured more typically adolescent conundrums, signaled the beginning of the end for the show. As a result, the idiom “jumped the shark” was coined to indicate the point at which something has crossed the line into absurdity and is unable to fully recover.
At this close range, it’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment when the Republican Party jumped the shark. For me personally, it was the nomination of George W. Bush in 2000. I had always halfheartedly voted Republican before, but his nomination over John McCain was an immediate deal breaker. After that, the Republicans seemed to lose their way as they veered and careened further right throughout the Bush presidency. Moderates got pushed out of the Party or forced to be silent while Evangelical Christians and later, the Tea Party, began to wrangle control.
However, nothing compares to the recent folly of trying to snatch back fifty years of female progress. Women will not tolerate old men, ignorant of simple biological facts, lecturing us about what we can and cannot do with our bodies. We will not cede legal control of our own reproductive health, because doing so makes us second class citizens. In a time when women are still only making 77 cents for every dollar a man earns, we cannot afford to go backwards. And we won’t.
This election is a desperate attempt by Republicans to regain control. The Party of Lincoln used to be a Big Tent party with enough room for people of many different backgrounds. But their recent exclusionary tactics of strict immigration reform and anti-gay legislation have positioned them as the Angry White People Party. They know that their majority is waning and that each election will be harder for them to win.
And now they want to mess with women? Come November, they will learn that was their biggest mistake yet.