Posted 10 hours ago


Badass women of the future:

  1. Malavath Poorna, the youngest person ever to reach Mount Everest’s summit at the age of 13 years, 11 months
  2. Ann Makosinksi, Canadian inventor of a flashlight powered strictly by body heat at age 16

  3. Mo’Ne Davis, first girl to throw a Little League World Series shutout in history, with fastballs reaching speeds of up to 70mph, at age 13

  4. Alia Sabur, youngest university professor in the world, appointed to Konkuk University in South Korea at age 18

  5. Asia Newson, owning and operating a candle sales business alongside her father, is Detroit’s youngest entrepreneur at age 10

Posted 15 hours ago

A random assortment of my favorite jokes or gags I’ve committed to comics so far.

Posted 1 day ago


Words. To. Live. By.

It’s precisely why I do laugh.

(Source: king-of-death-and-destruction)

Posted 1 day ago



Daily Show correspondent Michael Che tries to find a safe place to report from.

This is funny but at the same time it hurts so bad

sometimes you gotta laugh to stop from laughing

(Source: sandandglass)

Posted 2 days ago

Recently, a bird pooped on my head. The person who witnessed the event, told me that it meant good luck. Yeah…

Anyway, this series came from that little exchange.

Posted 2 days ago

I’d challenge Donald Trump to the Ice Bucket Challenge just to see his hair run away in frigid shock.

Posted 6 days ago
Posted 6 days ago

When I say I’m ugly, that’s because I’m fucking ugly. It is not because I want people to lie and tell me that I’m something that I am not.

Posted 2 weeks ago

I came up with this mini-series (done in the format of a weekly comic strip running Monday-Sunday) whilst suffering my own series of autocorrect fails. I thought it might be fun to interpret it in comic strip-format with its own story arc. It was fun to write.

Posted 2 weeks ago


This is for those who are curious and you all out in Ferguson. I’m going to be attaching some info graphics (one may seem needless due to circumstances but I’m adding it anyway.) I have some more info I’d like to put into a better to use format ( alot of them are screen grabs and I’d like to put in clearer and slur free language.) If you want me to send anything I got or any info I have ( I’m a Criminal Justice student) don’t hesitate to ask. 

I have seen a few of these but a post with them compiled may help more. I will be editing these as I get it all prepared I’ll use the Ferguson Protest Aid tag for any updates I do. Stay safe everyone.

Posted 2 weeks ago

The drawback to having my kind of metabolism is that I’m constantly sweating like Richard Nixon during a David Frost interview.

Posted 2 weeks ago

My Thoughts on Robin Williams, Depression and Suicide

I’ve shared my thoughts on the subject of suicide at length in the past. I’ve stated that I believe that it’s tragic for all parties: the one who chooses to take their own life as well as those whose lives were touched or in some way affected by the life of said person. There are no two ways about it; generally any loss of life is tragic.
Lately, there’s been a lot of talk about suicide, in light of the sad and tragic passing of Robin Williams. It’s believed that he’d taken his own life, though to my knowledge, that hasn’t yet been officially confirmed. Most of what I hear, see and read has been resoundingly positive, albeit somber, heart-wrenching and deeply touching. I can’t say that I personally knew the man, but I, like so many people of my generation, grew up laughing with him, crying with him, fighting pirates with him, making wishes and having those wishes granted by him, got lost in Jumanji with him, found our voice and muse in Dead Poets Society with him, had our Awakenings with him, came out with him in The Bird Cage. Most of all, we loved him in whichever capacity we could.
However, there have been some very hurtful, ugly, venomous, vicious words spoken regarding this loss. All the words seem to center around a few things: the not so good times, the bad films, his battles with addiction and depression and his apparent suicide. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. That’s a given. However, any decent, tactful person would recognize and understand that there is a good way and a good time to express certain views as there is a bad time and a bad way to express them.
I understand that this has been a tough year for so many people, so many fans of film, television and poetry; we’ve lost so many influential people. The passing of Robin Williams has hit many particularly hard. In a time of heightened emotions, many people express their sorrow, sadness, frustration and anger in ways, which may not be the most appropriate or rational. I get that. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to mourn. It’s okay to be mad. What’s not okay is to diminish one’s achievements, one’s legacy and one’s life.
Supposing that his death was caused by suicide, when people go out of their way to judge his entire life, life’s work, his charity work and his all the good things he’d done in life, solely on the manner in which he died, there is nothing appropriate about that at all. When people assert that those who end their own lives are selfish, cruel or are just bad people, it really angers me. Sure, there are some instances where people will end their own lives as some wicked form of revenge against those who’ve wronged them in life. My life was touched by such a person, who went out of his way to make people feel responsible for his actions and to accuse others of “forcing him to kill himself.” That’s a supreme example of selfishness. But, it is hardly a reason that most people choose to end their own lives.
I’ll say right now, I don’t condone suicide in most cases (an exception being: dying with dignity as in situations where one’s body is deteriorating to a point where they can no longer function without constant assistance). It’s not something that I’d ever recommend that someone do. But, I completely understand why someone would. I myself struggle with suicidal ideation on a daily basis; I talk myself out of it every single day. There are numerous reasons why someone would elect to end their own life. And, virtually none of them is fueled by selfishness.
A huge number of people who end their own lives were, in life, the most generous, kindest, most caring, most selfless individuals who brought and spread as much joy, laughter and love to those who knew them. They spread the joy, happiness and laughter to others, in most cases, to prevent loved ones, friends and even strangers from having to know or experience the pain that they themselves lived with on a daily basis. Many people who end their own lives were among the most selfless people. To diminish that by saying that they were selfish to end their lives is dismissive and very damaging.
The void any death leaves behind is a great one, regardless how they died, especially the void left by people who’ve touched so many people’s lives, specifically, your own life, in whatever capacity that was. When I hear people say things like, “Robin Williams was rich and famous, he could do anything he wanted or have anything he wanted, etc.” it makes me so angry. True, he had those things and to a degree, what he had in life is what most people desire, but those things aren’t necessarily what make a person happy. People who say these things have no idea the pain he experienced, the sadness, the lifelong heartache he’d lived with. I don’t even claim to know it, but I know my own, and I know how, for lack of a better word, soul-sucking this constant pain is.
To direct your frustration on ones who end their lives and to claim that they are selfish, wicked, pathetic, etc. is, to me, completely selfish. You’re the selfish one. You’re essentially saying that the person who ended their lifelong pain and illness was responsible for your own happiness. You’re saying that you don’t care how miserable, depressed, lonely, empty or ill someone was, they made you sad, angry, depressed, etc. and therefore, they are selfish. It’s okay for them to exist in a state of constant pain so long as you’re happy. That’s not the way it should be.
We all know that Robin Williams was a consummate entertainer; a very kind, funny, talented, loving man. He struggled with depression most of his life. Depression is an illness, and a very selfish one. It, like cancer, can in many cases, be treated, but it is seldom, if ever, something that can be cured. Depression is more than just being sad; it affects the mind and the body. It creates these cognitive distortions, creates false beliefs, causes great physical and emotional pain and it makes the sufferer behave in ways that aren’t healthy, rational or understandable. It is not something that one can just get over or snap out of, anymore than one can wake up, completely cured of something like Parkinson’s disease. I compare depression to such physical illnesses because depression is a mental illness and it is in every way as real as any physical illness, in no way deserving of stigma, but compassion and understanding.
We’ll never know what Robin Williams’ depression led him to think and believe of himself, but we can all assume that it was something dark, ugly and resoundingly false. And, we can assume that he’s held these beliefs, lived with such pain for decades. That’s a long time to live in pain. I am very sorry that he’d chosen to end his own life. He touched mine in so many ways. He will be sorely missed. I cast no judgment for his decision; I too know the evils of depression. I will never know what finally pushed him over the edge, but I know that it must have been something unbearably painful and dark. Perhaps it was something massive that he saw no way out of. Perhaps it was just a number of little things that, over time, snowballed into something unbearable. Or, perhaps he’d tried to cope and hold out for too long before he finally gave out. Whatever the reason, he has brought me, and millions of others so much joy, so much laughter, so much inspiration and so much fun that we owe him our gratitude, love, respect and compassion. Anything less is selfish and cruel. He’s granted us more wishes than we can count.
Genie, you’re free.

Posted 2 weeks ago

Dysphoria Is: A Truncated Account of Experiences Living Transgender

When you’ve so few things other than your thoughts, your imagination and your memories, one often finds themselves in reverie of past experiences, analyzing, critiquing and reliving such experiences from a more mature perspective, all the while creating new scenarios and envisioning what might have been had you behaved differently, made different decisions or if you knew then what you know today.

This year, after suffering multiple personal losses, being affected by numerous cutbacks and setbacks and being forced to give up what it is that I want the very most, I’ve found myself living inside my head, withdrawing from the world more and more, leading a life of isolation, loneliness and despair.

Just recently, little over 2 months since I’d given up on my transition, my ever present dysphoria has grown to an extreme that even I’m unfamiliar with. As a result, I’ve been sick with depression, agony, self-loathing, guilt and shame. I’ve gone to some very dark, emotional places; places I’ve not been to since I’d tried to take my own life 8 years ago.

I’ve been forcing myself to channel my mind, my thoughts and my imagination toward doing something constructive, if not productive, lately, whenever my mind dips into the cold darkness, which has resulted in my making comic strips to amuse those I know and care about. By making others smile, laugh or happy, while it doesn’t make me feel much better, it keeps me from succumbing to my own, destructive impulses.

There are times, too many times, when I find myself recalling various times when I, knowing what I know now, would behave in a certain, then unexplained, irrational way, thinking, how did I not see it? How didn’t I know? How could I have been so blind as not to see that I’m transgender.

One memory that recently came to me this evening came as a result of someone asking me a simple question whose answer is so paradoxically complex and simple that I’d never given a second thought about it since I was a teenager.

I was asked by someone close to me: how can you shave your face in the shower without looking in the mirror?

I was taken aback. I’ve always shaved myself that way as though it was the normal thing to do, which to me, it is. But, I didn’t really think about how bizarre that might seem to anyone else. It forced me to think way back to the point when I first started seeing hair growing on my chin.

I didn’t hit puberty until fairly late in my youth. It wasn’t until I was 16 when I really began changing. The moment when I noticed that I had started sprouting hair on my face, my mind and body was wracked with panic and dread. I had no idea why I was so afraid, almost to the point of being physically ill, over the fact that I was developing facial hair; I didn’t care. I was just so repulsed by my changing body that I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone about it. I just wanted it to go away.

Firstly, I began plucking the hairs from my chin, painfully, between my fingernails, before it had become thick enough that the only practical way I had to rid myself of all offensive hairs was to begin shaving. I found a cheap razor, determined to shave every hair off posthaste. I never told my parents that I’d been shaving, I never asked how it was done, I never wanted anyone to know.

My first attempts at shaving went pretty well. I seldom cut myself, despite the fact that I never used a mirror to monitor my progress, instead, relying on feel. I was so ashamed, repulsed and frightened by my facial hair, that from about the time I began shaving, I could never look at my face in the mirror without feeling physically ill. To this day, I can’t look at myself in the mirror most days; I keep it covered with bed sheets so that I don’t unintentionally catch a glimpse of my reflection, knowing, should it happen, I’d most likely spiral into a panic attack, which would likely cause me to inflict some manner of mutilation on myself, carving a tale of my dysphoria on my arm.

The truth is, most of my grooming takes place in the shower (sometimes with my bathing suit on because I often can’t handle seeing my body). I comb my hair, shave, even brush my teeth in the shower or in a darkened room if I am unable to cover the mirror. I’ve been doing it that way now for more than half of my life. Which brings me to the title of this post.

For me, Dysphoria is: being unable to bathe myself in a well-lit room and/or without a swimsuit or undergarment on to cover my genitals without feeling ill, sad or disgusted. It’s not being able to talk about or even think about shaving without wanting to cry, or being able to shave any place where I can see my face. It is feeling the greatest discomfort for having to shop for men’s clothes or shoes for myself, but feeling the most crippling fear for even being in the women’s department with the intent on making mental notes on garments that I’d love to get for myself. It is having to use the men’s room in public with the prospect of having to stand before a urinal when I can barely touch myself at any time. It is looking at beautiful, confident, strong, independent women and trans women, longing to be them, but knowing that am not and may never be, and the resultant shame for being noticed when I gaze in awe at them, fearing that someone like me staring at them with a sort of longing (though not in a romantic or sexual sense) is utterly despicable and revolting to them. It’s having to avoid talking on the phone, Skype, Google Hangout, etc. whenever possible because the sound of my own voice is like having shards of glass being shot into my ears and through my heart. It is choosing to be by myself and isolating at home because the thought of being with people I enjoy causes me such pain, fearing that my very presence sucks them down to the lowest rungs of the social ladder. It’s living inside the body of the person you loathe more than you ever knew you were capable of with no escape and no hope of anything ever getting any better, despite every effort made.

Posted 2 weeks ago
Posted 3 weeks ago



I sincerely believe that every single boy at some point before they go into middle school should be told sincerely and directly “You can be a girl if you want.”

"You can be a girl. Really. You can do that any time you want, if you want. It would be fine."