This weekend, Internet right-wing radio host Pete Santilli said he wants to shoot Hillary Clinton in the vagina and watch her die. Oh, and he called her a “C U Next Today,” although that’s the least of it, really.
Here are Santilli’s batshit crazy comments about how the former Secretary of State is allegedly involved in drug trafficking in Arkansas (?) and the death of U.S. troops (emphasis mine):
Miss Hillary Clinton needs to be convicted, she needs to be tried, convicted and shot in the vagina. I wanna pull the trigger. That ‘C U Next Tuesday’ has killed human beings that are in our ranks of our service. I want to shoot her right in the vagina and I don’t want her to die right away. I want her to feel the pain and I want to look her in the eyes and I want to say, on behalf of all Americans that you’ve killed, on behalf of the Navy SEALS, the families of Navy SEAL Team Six who were involved in the fake hunt down of this Obama, Obama bin Laden thing. That whole fake scenario, because these Navy SEALS know the truth, they killed them all. On behalf of all of those people, I’m supporting our troops by saying we need to try, convict, and shoot Hillary Clinton in the vagina. Keep reading »
Ten minutes. I was hitting the 10-minute mark of just standing in front of the freezers, seemingly debating whether to buy a quart or a gallon of milk. Or perhaps unsure of which kind I wanted. Skim or whole? Maybe 2 percent? I had a pensive look on my face.
It’s the look I get when I’m frozen inside. Generally from shock. Often from fear. Almost always after a harrowing experience that’s left me momentarily paralyzed.
My allergies had been just horrific, but I’d decided to brave the run across the street to the little bodega anyway because I’d been out of dishwasher soap and milk and coffee filters for three days. As I walked up the steps to the entrance, two men walked out. Because I’m a woman who’s been trained by society not to look strange men in the eye when its dark out and they look potentially threatening, I didn’t. But they stopped in the doorway and came up close to me, speaking far louder than was necessary. “Whoa mama, look at those tits.” “Daaaaamn. Naw like really dog, daaaaaaamn.” One started masturbating and pushed up close to my face as I stared at the ground, trying to navigate around them. He rubbed himself and licked his lips as he undressed me with his eyes and loudly proclaimed what he’d do to me. Keep reading »
Gee, don’t you just love that in the battle to train men to not rape, you have the security secretary of Hong Kong, Lai Tung-kwok, stomping on all our efforts by suggesting women just drink less? I do. It’s my favorite. Having the government permit men to not taking responsibility for their actions and place the onus of avoiding sexually assaul on women is just fabulous. Especially when this was the knee-jerk reaction to a 60 percent rise in reported rapes and an 18 percent rise in reported sexual assaults. As reported by the Wall Street Journal, the director of the Hong Kong Federation of Women’s Centers responded, “There’s a lot of stigma that’s given to the victims. The remarks he made are proof of a culture that blames victims for doing something ‘wrong,’ like drinking.” The fear is that women won’t report abuse because they fear being blamed and shamed. Rape culture, it’s great.
[Wall Street Journal]
Pause your Spotify and listen to Kelly Rowland’s new song “Dirty Laundry” (after the jump) — not only is it intense, but it’s really good. She sings about how hard it was for her to watch her “sister” Beyoncé get A+++-list famous while Kelly was “going through some bullshit,” mostly, it seems, an abusive relationship: ”Meanwhile this ni**a puttin’ his hands on me, swear y’all don’t know the half of this industry. She sings about lying to her mother and her friends about the abusive relationship, classically being isolated from help. “Kinda lucky I was in her shadow / phone call from my sister, what’s the matter / she said ‘oh no, you gotta leave’ / I’m on the kitchen floor, he took the keys / I was mad at everybody, I mean everybody, her her her her everybody,” she sings, adding that it took five years to finally get her life together. “I was trapped in his house … I was battered / He hit the window like it was me, until it shattered,” she sings. “He told me nobody love you but me, not your mama, not your daddy, and especially not B. He turned me against my sister, I missed you.” Keep reading »
Last month a 28-year-old woman answered the door of her East London home to have a bottle of acid squirted in her face and on the pet chihuahua in her arms. She shut the door and rinsed her face with water, but her face has still been been permanently scarred by the acid; her dog also had to be treated for injuries. This weekend, police finally arrested a 15-year-old boy in connection with the incident. As of right now, people do not have an explanation for why a teen boy would have executed the attack. Keep reading »