Her Restless Mind
Time for another visit to the pages of Scary Mommy, a publication for progressive mothers, and where Ms Christine Organ has a problem:
For years, I’ve known that I have trouble sitting still, that I find projects and things to fret over. I need to literally schedule time to binge watch TV, and I multitask like a freaking boss. What I don’t know is how to let my mind and body rest.
You see, leisurely uses of time, including “lounging about on a rainy Saturday afternoon,” are fraught with mental hazards:
When I do something enjoyable – with no other “productive” purpose – I feel guilty… I’ve always thought that this is just how I’m wired (and maybe it is), but there’s something else at play too,
Happily, Ms Organ has fathomed the cause of her agitation and sorrow:
I suffer from internalised capitalism – and you probably do too.
Ms Organ, an “author and storyteller,” and user of Xanax, hints, almost coyly, at her own political leanings:
I’m on the democratic socialist end of the spectrum.
Then teases us some more:
Let me be very clear: I intentionally shun the “capitalist” lifestyle. My husband and I choose to spend our money traveling and donating to causes we believe in rather than “stuff.” We live in a small house in desperate need of updates, and share one car between the two of us. I feel comfortable with the choices we’re making and the life we’re living.
Um, okay. Perhaps this is where the applause is expected to go. What with all the heroism, selflessly declared. Sadly, this leaves less time for an elaboration of Ms Organ’s central claim – the supposedly corrupting woe of “internalised capitalism” – beyond an unremarkable statement:
I don’t want my self-worth to be attached to productivity anymore. I want to be able to rest, and to have fun.
And a warning that,
bigger-better-more isn’t the key to happiness.
Not much to chew on, really. Exactly why Ms Organ’s inability to sit still or lounge on a sofa should be blamed on a modern market economy, as opposed to, well, almost anything else – say, “a small house in desperate need of updates,” or her aforementioned shunning of a “capitalist” lifestyle, or just being a tad neurotic – remains somewhat unclear. The nearest we get to an argument is a quote from “expert relationship manager” and “exponential impact generator” Vicki Davis, who uses the word “we” an awful lot, and tells her readers,
We are bad at working AND self-care because we have been conditioned to equate our value as human beings by how much we produce. This stems from the internalisation of capitalism.
And,
Billionaires have convinced workers to look down on people who are not productive.
Yes, I know. These are assertions more than an argument, but still. Baby steps. Perhaps we’re to assume that binge-watching TV would obviously be easier in a loftier, more socialist environment, in which comfort and “self-care” always come first.
We do, however, get this:
There are also roots in white supremacy.
But of course. It’s a go-to destination, and terribly in right now.
Alas, on this matter, too, evidence is elusive. Instead, we get a link to the Radical Therapy Centre, which offers its clients “anarchist therapy,” along with “radical love, radical softness.” The Centre, the goals of which include the abolition of prison, is a creation of Ms Sonalee Rashatwar, an “Instagram therapist” and woman of surreal girth who denounces “intentional weight loss.” Ms Rashatwar’s rhetorical contortions have been mentioned here before. Among which, her claim that dieting is a form of “sexual violence” based on “Nazi science,” and that her own health problems, including high blood pressure, are the result of “weight stigma” and “white supremacy,” and nothing whatsoever to do with her enthusiasm for doughnuts, consumed in wholesale quantities.
Elsewhere in Scary Mommy, I found another of Ms Organ’s contributions to human advancement:
How to Cope When a Family Member Says They’re Voting for Trump.
In which we learn that said discovery – that a family member’s political views diverge from one’s own – is a traumatic experience:
the realisation is, quite simply, devastating. Horrifying. Confusing. Embarrassing. Maddening. Demoralising.
On account of “all the terror” that Mr Trump “has and is raining down on us,” being, as he is, a “monster.” A Demon King. Planning to vote for Mr Trump over Mr Biden is, it turns out, an inexcusable sin, a basis for “anger and heartbreak,” and, inevitably, hyperventilation:
It is about life and death. It is about democracy versus fascism.
And any failure to endorse this estimation, any demurral at all,
is a complete and total mindfuck. And it’s exhausting.
Lest you think I’m cherry-picking, this goes on for some time:
Let me be very clear, just because someone is family, they do not get a free pass to treat you like crap or mess with your emotional and mental wellbeing. “But they’re family” isn’t a reason to give someone total access to your life and jeopardise your wellbeing.
Faced with the unspeakable horror of differing opinions, the sheer violation of it, the way to ensure one’s “emotional survival” is, we’re told, to block dissenters on Facebook and to “surround yourself with people who are on the same page as you.” We’re also told that this rather emphatic intolerance of political deviation is actually a good thing, “a sign that you care very deeply about building a better country and world.”
So. As I said. Ms Organ has a problem.
Update, via the comments:
Sk60 shares a screengrab of more ladies distressed by the existence of Donald Trump, with the words “same energy.”
Well, quite. It’s almost like some kind of Quatermass horror story, in which much of the population has spontaneously become deranged, possessed by a compulsive, competitive narcissism, in which breathless overstatement is a kind of status. “We’re being emotionally abused,” says one of the pretend-hysterics, an enthusiast of the hashtag “resist.” But like Ms Organ, they’re abusing themselves. Or pleasuring themselves, depending on how you look at it.
The exhaustion is not internalized capitalism. The exhaustion is from witch hunting, 24/7, 365 days a year. Whenever I see people like her, overcome by the presence of differing thought in the world, I think of some Puritan, sitting in a freezing cabin in the winter of 1692 in Salem, Massachusetts, convinced the Devil is everywhere and only after his last neighbor swings from a rope can the world be pure again.
Also – *ping*. That’s a cute little button you got there. Happy to give it a wee nudge.
That’s a cute little button you got there. Happy to give it a wee nudge.
Bless you, madam. May you never wildly overestimate the shelf-life of garlic-infused olive oil.
I feel comfortable with the choices we’re making and the life we’re living.
I think I see the problem.
a quote from “expert relationship manager” and “exponential impact generator” Vicki Davis,
Wow.
Wow.
Yes, it’s a bit much.
I feel comfortable with the choices we’re making and the life we’re living.
Her nonchalance about money tells me one thing:
Her aging parents are loaded.
Am I right? Do I win a prize?
The purpose of her writing is to infect / instill the neuroses in the reader.
Planning to vote for Mr Trump over Mr Biden is, it turns out, an inexcusable sin…
For my fellow ‘Murkans, not to worry about for whom you vote, our elections are in the best of hands.
The exhaustion is from witch hunting, 24/7, 365 days a year.
There’s certainly something odd about the sheer number of articles in which the prospect of a Trump second term, or any hint of support for the man, is described in the most breathlessly hyperbolical terms, with a near-exclusive focus on the emotional consequences, or alleged emotional consequences, the personal trauma, for the author of each piece. I’ve seen few substantive points, or even strings of coherent thoughts, but an awful lot of self-dramatising fantasy. Like some competitive sport, played largely, but not exclusively, by unhinged leftist women.
It’s all a bit “And where did The Orange Man touch you?”
Billionaires have convinced workers to look down on people who are not productive.
I don’t know any billionaires, but I do know too many people who are not productive. Guess again who is shaping my opinion of people who are not productive.
woman of surreal girth
LOL
There’s certainly something odd about the sheer number of articles in which the prospect of a Trump second term, or any hint of support for the man, is described in the most breathlessly hyperbolical terms, with a near-exclusive focus on the emotional consequences, or alleged emotional consequences, the personal trauma, for the author of each piece.
This emotional diarrhea that Western culture seems to be stricken with these days is disturbing and does not seem to be leading us to anywhere good. Is it from the feminization of everything, men included?
Heavens, a button. I wonder what it does.
I think it’s time I finally got to ordering that electric kettle and the giant bag of Yorkshire Tea for my office (since communal stuff is Right Out nowadays).
I think it’s time I finally got to ordering that electric kettle and the giant bag of Yorkshire Tea for my office
Your host endorses this message.
Don’t forget the biscuits.
For complete exhortation from anything you may do that could be perceived as individualistic, or conservative, or intelligent, you really should start your day with a good, hard, protracted self-flagellation … Yes both you and you Beta Husband. You know, just cover all bases.
And when socialist ideals have dug their greedy paws into your inner psyche, I’d say that qualifies as unchecked.
TFT
I didn’t get through all her verbiage (I need my guilt-free time) but the conclusion I reached is that Mrs Organ is an interfering neurotic busybody and missing a few pipes.
The stated goal of the Radical Therapy Center is to – wait for it -“to politicize your therapy” . Well no wonder then…
LOL
As you know, I don’t like to be catty, but Ms Rashatwar is a tad stout. She can certainly fill a chair.
Seen here, Ms Rashatwar in stealth mode.
…and I multitask like a freaking boss.
That is to say she is unable to focus on or complete a single task. It has been my experience that people who describe themselves as “multitaskers” seldom do any one thing well.
Don’t forget the biscuits.
I knew there was something on that list I was forgetting! Any in particular you would recommend? Occasionally in the supermarkets here one can find HobNobs or even TimTams (those are Aussie, possibly), but my knowledge of tasty English biscuits is rather limited.
Jesus, my wife reads that stupid idiot.
I’m curious about how you find these articles. A Google news alert set up with keywords “crazy,” “neurotic,” “delusional,” perhaps? Not that I am eager to locate this kind of stuff – I appreciate that you do it on our behalf.
Every time I hear of “multitaskers” I think of Bart playing chess.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLcAu1VuP0w
I feel comfortable with the choices we’re making and the life we’re living.
She doth protest too much. These people are so bloody transparent once you know what to look for.
The agitation and need for constant business is a common self-soothing tactic. Busy busy busy means no time to simply stop and think calmly about things – like the massive cognitive dissonance that comes from the conflict between the natural human desire to have a modicum of middle-class comfort and style in one’s home environment, and ostentatiously giving away all your money on things that are supposed to make you a Good Person.
I feel comfortable with the choices we’re making and the life we’re living.
If she were, she wouldn’t feel the need to tell you that. She’s trying to convince herself, not the reader.
There is a cure for leftism: Ritalin.
Seen here, Ms Rashatwar in stealth mode.
Needs more stealth.
Needs more stealth.
Needs more chair.
Any in particular you would recommend?
I’m not actually a big biscuit-head. I buy them occasionally for Beloved Father-in-Law. That said, I could be persuaded to nibble on one of these, or indeed these.
Just a corner, mind.
Needs more chair.
Needs a couple of tugboats to guide her into that slip. Ahoy!
These people are nuts.
Sadly, I have a huge sweet tooth, and both those suggestions sound really good. A packet of each! It’s for a good cause, after all. Thank you for the recommendation.
Needs more chair.
My first thought upon seeing that photo was “That poor chair!”. Must be some quality construction there.
In pre-Covid days one could hire sumo-wrestler “fat suits” to enliven birthday parties.
The lady appears to be wearing one under her outer garment or tent. A severe case of the Batmanghelidjhies?
… and share one car between the two of us
That’s Dickensian living, that is.
So, devoting yourself to “bigger, better, more” charitable contributions gives you the same problem as devoting yourself to “bigger, better, more” stuff?
But that can’t be; all the best leftists tell me that charitable contributions are anti-capitalist.
I’m on the democratic socialist end of the spectrum
In other words, the very dark and unfathomable end that cannot be seen, nor should be
Have a box I can send a check to?
Email if you like.
Thanks, and keep up the great work.
Mike
You know who’s exhausted? Her partner/spouse/roommate that has to listen to this cat yowl.
A bit of a nit: spending money on recreational travel is entertainment and consumerism, regardless how super interesting, pristine, and natural the destination you visit.
Have a box I can send a check to?
Alas, no. But I’ve found Paypal quite reliable. All major cards accepted.
Poking through Ms Organ’s other articles, I see she’s a Xanax user and seems distressed by pretty much anything, from clutter to “white privilege.” I was also unfamiliar with the concept of rage cleaning, but apparently that’s a thing.
Oh, and like so many of her type, Ms Organ peppers her articles with the words fuck and fucking, so often I lost count. Presumably, this is to make sure we take her seriously. As a grown woman.
Ms Christine ORGAN
Which leads me, a non-medical person, to ask: Is my bowel one of my organs?
Needs more chair
Considering she resembles a cartoonish caricature of a pampered sultan, perhaps a luxurious chaise is in order.
That chair seems to be spitting her out as indigestible.
I love how the homepage of Scary Mommy has a tab for “CONFESS” right at the top. So convenient!
We are bad at working AND self-care because we have been conditioned to equate our value as human beings by how much we produce.
The Gods of the Copybook Headings would like to have a word…
Honestly, this Vicky Davis person is a real piece of work. She seems to believe that people who earn $50,000 a year are slaves, with “The Billionaires” holding a gun to their heads. She seems to believe that “I win, you lose” is the central tenet of capitalism, whereas only socialism offers people a way to cooperate and collaborate. She seems to think that we’d all be happier working for nonprofits instead of corporations, conveniently missing that nonprofit organizations are by definition corporations. She seems to think the world would be a better place if we all became “Sustainability Consultants” and nobody produced anything.
The only consolation I have is that she’ll be first up against the wall when her revolution comes.
One would think it goes double for those of Ms. Organ’s ilk.
Perhaps she needs to internalise a bit more capitalism – for all of her frenetic activity, she seems distinctly unproductive.
…she resembles a cartoonish caricature of a pampered sultan…
My first thought was that she resembled the political cartoon trope of a “fat cat”. You know, the sort who enlarge themselves at ease through swindling and grifting, and riding manufactured political beliefs.
But surely I must be off base with such a comparison.
“The working class is conditioned to consider anyone who is
not constantlynever producing something as lazy moochers who are coasting through life; their laziness strains the systems and makes it harder for the working class tobecome billionaireskeep the hard-earned fruits of their labor.”Screw you, Vicky Davis. In your world, it’s the billionaires who are to blame for providing valuable jobs and goods and services, while the layabouts are the enlightened wise men who should be emulated.
I suppose it’s no big surprise that these authors, and every one of the people they link to, are all independent consultants specializing in sustainability and anti-racism and various flavors of self-empowering kumbayah bullshit. One can almost see these tapeworms polishing off their second box of cabinet blanc and complaining about how very hard they’ve been working at extracting surplus resources from the HR departments in successful organizations.
How to Cope When a Family Member Says They’re Voting for Trump
My basic to someone saying they’re voting for X is: (a) if I agree with X, I ask why they’re voting for X, whereas (b) if I disagree with X, I ask why they’re voting for X.
That’s it, really. I may list a few of the brilliant/appalling things that X has done, in comparison to the appalling/brilliant things that X’s competitor Y has done, but that’s it.
Even when I think that X is spectacularly inept/criminal/’deplorable’, I don’t take it as a personal insult, let alone a traumatic experience.
I had an acquaintance tell me they supported BLM the other day. My immediate response was “Good lord, why in god’s name would you?“, but I didn’t rush off to down a jar of Valium to cope with the horrors of having to deal with a differing opinion.
It’s a sad thing you can’t write a prescription for perspective, because that’s what a large number of these overly emotional ninnies are desperately in need of.
I knew David would be like a kid in a candy store (a biscuit store?) once he got to poking around that site! Thanks,David!
My favorite biscuit is the homemade chocolate chip, what about everyone else?
What you Brits are calling “biscuits “ are actually “cookies.” “Biscuits” are those savory blobs of baked dough that you butter, or crumble up and cover with sausage gravy. What do you Brits call those?
What you Brits are calling “biscuits “ are actually “cookies.”
I hate to disagree, because it’s always fun to lob jingoistic jokes at David, but I think there is better justification for the British usage: “Biscuit” derives from “biscotti” which is an Italian word for what we Americans call a “cookie”. “Cookie”, on the other hand, derives from a homophonic Dutch word, and we don’t want to be nice to the Dutch now, do we? Much better to align ourselves with the Hearts of Oak and all that. [Glares across the Atlantic past England to the vile port of Amsterdam while trying to recall the epithets that Captain Jack Aubrey used on the Dutch]
The word biscotto, in this sense, shares its origin with the British-English (via Old French) word “biscuit”…
The perfidious tulip wavers not withstanding, end of discussion [glares towards Calais], I should think.
…on the other hand, derives from a homophonic Dutch word…
LOL, I read that as a homophobic Dutch word. I thought the word is cookie not twinkie.
“What do you Brits call those?”
Oddly enough, although there are several regional names for them, one is “cookies”.
“’Biscuit’ derives from ‘biscotti’ which is an Italian word for what we Americans call a ‘cookie’.”
Ultimately from the medieval Latin panis bis coctus, “twice-baked bread”. The word is also used for unglazed ceramics. I’ve never been able to find out if that’s in direct analogy to the medieval bread or to modern biscuits/cookies. Since it comes via French, it’s probably the former, but I don’t know.
Talking of the frog-eaters, I’ve often thought that where they have their myriad varieties of cheese, nobody outdoes we Brits on biscuits (even if some of them have French names).
Twinkies: seen in Die Hard “when LAPD Sergeant Al Powell is buying packages of them at a gas station. It is later revealed they are his favorite snack after revealing the ingredients to NYPD cop John McClane. McClane, too, also has a taste of one Twinkie in Nakatomi Plaza while taking a brief break battling the terrorists.”
I once ate a Twinkie – ‘A Twinkie is an American snack cake, described as “golden sponge cake with a creamy filling”‘ – urrrk! Synthetic rubbish guaranteed to clog one’s ‘pipes’.
urrrk! Synthetic rubbish guaranteed to clog one’s ‘pipes’.
But heaven when you’re a teenager. In Canada, we have a company called Vachon and they make several similar rubbish treats: the Jos Louis, the Flaky and my personal favourite the 1/2 Lune. They were a staple in my high school cafeteria. Today an alarm would go off if you brought one within 10 feet of a school. If I ate one today I’d have a hyperglycemic reaction.
Scary Mommy, meet scary mummy.
‘White people’ slammed for opening ancient Egyptian mummy tomb
In previous news . . . .
@ Hal: “the angry online masses seemed clueless”
They are more than clueless. They are, in their egocentricity and ignorance of other cultures, stupidly arrogant beyond belief. Who would think that Egyptians would still live in … Egypt! Then again as an Australian living in the USA in the 1970’s-’80s I was often asked from where I came due to my accent, only to be queried further: “Australia? That’s next to Germany isn’t it?” and this from undergraduate students at US universities!
Who would think that Egyptians would still live in … Egypt!
I keep reading of something called Islamic State, which, bloody well clearly, is the name for a US College US variety football team.
And, in turn, I keep reading, in modern news, many recurring references to the name of a classical Egyptian goddess.
Isis was indeed noted as a goddess in the last century, is so noted, still by the same name now, will be so noted in the next century.
When referring to a particular collection of typically right wing islamacists, the equally quite established name is Daesh, and Daesh will be the prolly rather obscure footnote they’re found listed under when also in that next century . . . .
I was often asked from where I came due to my accent, only to be queried further: “Australia? That’s next to Germany isn’t it?” and this from undergraduate students at US universities!
As keeps getting noted, repeatedly, For you will always have the hipster among you.
It is about life and death. It is about democracy versus fascism.
Same energy:
https://twitter.com/lporiginalg/status/1313662172975693824
Same energy:
It’s almost like some kind of Quatermass horror story, in which much of the population has spontaneously become deranged, possessed by a compulsive, competitive narcissism. “We’re being emotionally abused,” says one of the pretend-hysterics. But like Ms Organ, they’re abusing themselves. Or pleasuring themselves, depending on how you look at it.
[ Added: ]
One of the ladies, Ms Silvestri, pronouns “she/her,” is, inevitably, an educator of children.
Always respect the media, Etc . . . . . .
When skimming through Google news at this moment:
vs
‘Related’
https://twitter.com/michaeljknowles/status/1313279457759653889
I need to literally schedule time to binge watch TV, and I multitask like a freaking boss.
That she should put these two together in the same sentence strongly suggests when her fluent bullshitese is translated into English it comes out as something like this:
I’ve agreed to wait until my husband’s home from work/finished reading the kids their bedtime story before pressing play on the next episode of Woklahoma.
While watching Woklahoma, I send innumerable angry Tweets, which I believe is a form of aggressive political activism rather than, what is actually the case, me sitting on my ass on a sofa furiously pressing buttons on a small, black rectangular screen.
Also, keep the change and have one for yourself.
A complimentary pickled egg?
Why thank you, but I must decline.
Also, keep the change and have one for yourself.
Bless you, sir. May the water bottle that lives in your car-door pocket be changed regularly – and not left, half-drunk, for months on end – thereby avoiding the taste of rapidly multiplying micro-organisms.
So they’re opening a previously unknown mummy’s tomb?
In 2020?
I’m sure it will be fine.
Then again as an Australian living in the USA in the 1970’s-’80s I was often asked from where I came due to my accent, only to be queried further: “Australia? That’s next to Germany isn’t it?”
That was me. I was joking. Actually, in my more OCD obsessed days it used to bother me that the name Australia intended to convey that the land in question was in the south, yet the name Austria was a reference to a land in the east. But I’m quite proud to say that I’m better now.
Same energy
Found further down on same link…
https://mobile.twitter.com/OrwellNGoode/status/1313526434036625412
in my more OCD obsessed days
And then there’s CDO: it’s like OCD except that the letters are in alphabetical order, as they should be.
Found further down on same link…
As Tim Newman often remarks, it seems we are increasingly ruled by decree.
The day I let myself be “therapized” by a human walrus will be a cold day in Hell.
I’m on the democratic socialist end of the spectrum…
-and-
It is about life and death. It is about democracy versus fascism.
Put these thoughts together, and you find that, for Ms. Organ, like many “democratic” socialists: “It’s only democracy if my side wins!”
Something to keep in mind.
In a world that shuns capitalism, and everyone gets to sit around and binge-watch TV guilt-free, who *makes* the TVs?
…who *makes* the TVs?
Unpersons.
The only thing she’ll be binge-watching is a marathon of State videos showing the People’s Glorious Television Assemblers Kollektiv No. 148 joyfully assembling the 17″ black-and-white CRT television that she’s watching in her kitchen (her former living room having been reallocated as a bedroom for family from Glorious People’s Ballot Punching Kollektiv No. 773). And she only has one because her husband is an apparatchik in good standing (Assistant Deputy Commissar to the Deputy Assistant Commissar of the District 17-B Committee of Redundant Organizations Committee!); her neighbors are all stuck on a 15-month waiting list.
She also has a State-approved electric vehicle, though her electricity is rationed to the point where she can’t run the freezer on days she recharges the car.
Oh, how I look forward to the People’s Glorious Revolution!
As Tim Newman often remarks, it seems we are increasingly ruled by decree.
Promulgated by idiots.
Murderous idiots.
What do you Brits call those?
Pies?