Disrespecting Mr. Nelson and SCOTUS

Disrespecting Mr. Nelson and SCOTUS

In fifth grade I had this teacher I absolutely could not respect, Mr. Nelson. Though I probably missed out on a lot of interpersonal nuance at the age of 11, the big issue for me then was his wishy-washy demeanor.

He played favorites, and I didn’t know what a double standard was yet. I merely thought it was entirely unfair that he would treat the girls as inferior. That was enough for me to dislike Mr. Nelson.

I didn’t like him one bit, and that distaste wouldn’t be contained. When my smart mouth got me in trouble, Mr. Nelson sent the school principal to jerk a figurative knot in my tail one day at recess.

I was not the kind of kid who got in trouble, so I was more offended than remorseful. I doubled down on the disrespect, but I kept it on the inside. Mostly.

I refined my stoic’s skills over the years, but I will still tell all when being “civil” is more dangerous or detrimental than sticking up for myself.

If you’ve read Who You Gonna Believe* or my blog over the years, you probably know I’m better at articulating my beefs these days. It’s not that I can’t handle people wanting different things than I do, it’s that I refuse to play with people pretending they want the same thing I do.

I’ll give you a couple fer instances.

Rodney could have avoided lots of humiliation if he’d said from day one “I want to cheat” instead of “monogamy is my favorite.” Then the onus would have been on me to walk away. There’d be no written record of anything.

It’s a sure way (though not the only way) to elicit disrespect from me, the cowardice of deception. When I fought Lincoln Financial Group for promising insurance and then doing everything they could to not pay, for example, it really pissed me off.

My thinking was, hey, I didn’t force LFG to sell me private disability insurance. I didn’t force them to market it to me, a woman who might one day dare to use it.

Maybe they should have been a Fortune 500 florist or something. Then if I tried to get my insurance payout, they could point, laugh, call me absurd, and send me GIFs of clueless John Travolta.

I was going somewhere with all this.

Oh, yeah. I don’t respect the Supreme Court Justices who decided to kick the immunity decision back to the lower court in D.C.

Just say you’re sweet on fascism and let us plan accordingly. Fucking cowards.

* New chapter out today on Substack.

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