Shadow Transport Secretary Andy McDonald has spoken exclusively to the SKWAWKBOX about the recent scandals of the Labour/Gerard Coyne data breach and the related attempt by employed right-wing Labo…
Love, love, love this post!
I have 5 reasons international women’s day means nothing to me. It isn’t about shaming opposing views. It’s about my opinion on reality. An organized event that gives media platforms another chance to divide us isn’t reality.
A Day Without a Woman: Yeah Right!
I can’t pee, shower, or even check the mail without being interrupted by a child needing a glass of milk, looking for a shoe, or throwing something at me under the door. Who the hell believes “A Day without a Woman” was a realistic movement? Did you get to relinquish all of your responsibilities for the day? If so, I’m judging you a lot more than you’re judging me.
I make a bigger impression on my daughter, my female colleagues, and the clients I serve by being present – Day in and day out. I couldn’t walk away from my children, husband, friends, co-workers, and consumers…
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This is as nuts as me! I am more offended that he hasn’t classified which type of nut they are, that is nuttism!
Meet and greet
This post now has over 2,000 active bloggers waiting to connect in it. I encourage anyone looking for new blogs to view or people to converse with to browse through the comment section and network!
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Haha 😂 Oh love it!
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I made a video:
I sort of couldn’t help myself. When I lived in Denmark I volunteered at an asylum center. I mentored a 17-year-old Afghan refugee. Since then, I’ve had friends and colleagues get jobs in international refugee policy. Seen them, one by one, become frustrated at the stinginess, the injustice, the cruelty masquerading as bureaucracy. It’s impossible for me to talk or write about this in my own voice without getting worked up, so I tried using someone else’s.
I grew up in a super religious family. Church on Sundays, hands clasped before dinner, Bible camp every summer. I remember talking to one of my parents’ friends when I was maybe 13 or 14. She worked at a homeless shelter, she provided food and clothes and beds all winter, a big brick building in the middle of a neighborhood I had lived my whole life avoiding.
I was in my Ayn Rand phase at the time, and I…
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😊 Witty and wonderful
by Richard Key
June 4. I’m one hundred days from turning sixty. Seems not so long ago I calculated that I had exactly one thousand days remaining in my fifties, which didn’t bother me so much. That’s almost three years. You could get a law degree in that time. People have biked around the world in less time. Sixty is intimidating. You’re supposed to be grown up by then. I mean completely grown up. Fifty is the youth of old age, according to Victor Hugo, and maybe that’s the rub. Now even the youth of old age is fading fast. My “over the hill” T-shirt has holes in it…and they’re getting bigger by the day.
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“And no, I didn’t wear red. I wore black today. . . . I wore Black in recognition of our invisibility today, yesterday and tomorrow.” Black. Bunched. Mass. Mom. blogger K.C. Wise reflects on March 8, a “Day Without Women.”