Don't blame the wife

When the news about the Jesse James philandering started to break, I found out about it (as with many other things in life these days) from a link that one of my friends posted on Facebook. One of the first comments in response was "Well, you know, Sandy hasn't always been good at holding on to her man." Ooh, REALLY? Then came this article on Jezebel, which declared that we should think less of Sandra Bullock for being married to someone who would strike a “Heil Hitler” pose for a camera (since she obviously knew every detail about his life). And then there was this lovely Twitter post by Jim Carrey, who said with regard to the Tiger Woods situation:

No wife is blind enough to miss that much infidelity. Elin had 2 b a willing participant on the ride 4 whatever reason. kids/lifestyle ;^)

Not ready to end there, he followed it up by saying:

RT I want 2 make it CLEAR that I do not condone infidelity at all, but 2 some degree the responsibilty 4 it is shared by both people! ;^)

Let me say this in words of one syllable, so that hopefully people will understand: Don't blame the wife.

Think back, why don't you, to that last asshole that you dated. Did you know everything that there was to know about him? Did you, maybe even after you broke up, find out something about him (or her) that shocked you? For instance, that he slept with someone else the weekend before your wedding? Or maybe that he stole money out of your bank account while the two of you were on a romantic trip through Europe? Or, possibly, that though he'd been married to you for twenty five years, he'd been having an affair for the past nine, and had two children with his mistress? Because if so, you are not alone: those stories all true, and all about people that I know well, are just the first three that popped into my head, and I'm sure that I could come up with more if I thought about it harder. And let me tell you, none of the three of them had any idea what was going on. I knew (and very much liked!) two of the three above assholes, and I was stunned. So let's stop it with the "She must have known! She was stupid if she didn't know! The fact that he was doing this must mean that she agreed with him!" bullshit.

Sure, there are some wives who are guilty as charged. The wife of Phillip Garrido? Yeah, I'd say knowingly standing by while your husband kidnapped a girl and then held her hostage makes you pretty worth the blame. But those wives are few and far between, and mostly it's just a lot of women who have their lives thrown upside down when they realize that their husband has had a secret second life and in fact, is a totally different person than the husband that they knew. I'm not sure why the picture of Jesse James striking a "Heil Hitler" pose is enough to convince people that Sandra Bullock must have known that her husband was a racist; he was obviously pretty good at hiding key things about his life from her and everyone else, as we see more and more details come out by the day. No, infidelity is not the "responsibilty" of both people, unless you're counting Tiger and his little Tiger as two people.

The problem is that people love to blame the victim in order to convince themselves that they could never be a victim in that same way, and that therefore it must have been something that she did wrong, or that she already knew about. Why can't they just blame the husband? It's about what he did wrong. It's about Tiger sleeping with some girl that he's known since she was nine, and about him sleeping with someone right after Elin had their first baby. It's about Jesse James being a racist sleazeball that cheats on his wife with other racist sleazeballs. Why can't everyone just concentrate on their horrible behavior, and not try to throw some of the blame on their wives, who are the ones who are the biggest victims?

Notice, by the way, that this post is titled "Don't blame the wife" and not "Don't blame the spouse." This is not because I think that husbands are any more to blame for the criminal, abusive, or just jerky behavior of their wives. It's because I have no reason to make that post, because no one ever blames the husband. Women are supposed to be all knowing when it comes to their husbands, and to do everything that they can to keep them on the straight and narrow, but no one expects a husband to know much about his wife. It's so interesting that no one cares to blame the victim when the victim is a man.

So please, do me a favor. The next time you hear a story about some guy who goes around kicking puppies, or sleeping with all of the librarians in the Tri-State area, or wasting really good champagne, and you're about to say, with regard to his wife, "Girl, that says more about her than it does about him!" just stop, think about how it's really the fault of the puppy kicking, librarian heartbreaking, no good dirty bubbly waster, and don't do it. Instead, maybe you could bring his wife a bottle of champagne when she gets rid of him.

Tuesday Quickies: Love, Marriage, Baby Carriage Edition

As our resident mother is enjoying a greatly deserved mini vacation, we have some links about marriage, kids and parenting for you today:

Don't want Great Aunt Helen to come to the wedding? Here's a fantastic way to keep her from the details: 8-Bit Game Wedding Invitations for German Couple (Komplett Blog)

There are so many don'ts to choose from here. Don't put fruit in your wedding photos? Don't wear those weird fake gloves? Don't tie your tie so that it looks like a vagina?: ...What is going on here? (Wedinator)

Don't shrink your grandma's hands! Oh, those are...baby hands? Yeah, don't do that either: WTF (STFU Parents)

Don't miss this video of POTUS and FLOTUS if you need a little happiness to start your day: Obamas share private moment (CNN)

Don't skip this Pulitzer Prize winning article because the subject matter is heartbreaking, it's got information that every parent should know: Fatal Distraction (Washington Post) (Chat with the author today.)

Don't let this happen again, CRAYOLA: Consumer Reporting (Amalah)

Don't start a fight in front of your kids at the Children's Museum, for goodness sake: 2 women brawl at Children's Museum Not so Minnesota Nice, hmmmmmm? (KSTP TV)

Think your business idea sounds kind of gross? Don't worry: the name of this one makes skin crawl, and businesses like it are apparently booming: Killing Lice is a Growing Business (New York Times)

Don't actually tell your kids stories like these, because they'll believe you (trust me, my dad did something similar to my sister, she believed that she was from an alien planet for a long time): I hope they don't have kids in hell (Que Sera Sera)

Don't try to pretend you don't love this kid. Okay, well, unless you hate the Red Sox: Joshua Sacco Delivers Herb Brooks' 'Miracle' Speech Before Red Sox Opener (NESN)

Don't give this kid detention for being cracking you up: Awesome Kid Gets Detention for being Hilarious (Huffington Post)

Don't you want to be this girl? Or have her dad? Yeah, we do too: Voltron Girl (Buzzfeed)

Want links to other things not to do? Follow us on Twitter.

Don't Humiliate Yourself For Fashion

Last week was a hell of a long and tough week for me at work. On Friday afternoon, I was so glad to be able to come home and sit on my patio with a glass of wine and the latest issue of Marie Claire magazine (PS, how PRETTY is Jessica Simpson?). Alas, my reverie was interrupted when I turned to page 62 and saw this.


(Click to see the full horror, including the WTF-inducing copy.)

I mean. Is somebody kidding? Is it April Fool's again and I didn't notice? Because that is the only plausible explanation I could come up with. This is not a feature about a cute bathing suit for your summer vacation, nor is it even attempting to pretend that the bikini bottoms (BIKINI BOTTOMS) are shorts. Nope. They genuinely think you should be wearing blazers, stilettos and HALF A BATHING SUIT out in public.

Doesn't Nina Garcia work at Marie Claire? Do you really expect me to believe that this fierce bitch wants women to be parading around the streets of this country half-naked? Because I don't.

And also! I don't care how many shiny magazines tell you it's a good idea, or how many fancy celebrities have embraced it, TIGHTS ARE NOT PANTS. And if Blair Waldorf says it, it is probably gospel. (In the future, these may come in handy. Keep 'em in your wallet!) People. Don't Humiliate Yourself For Fashion.

If it looks gorgeous on the hanger or fab on your coworker, but not so great on you? That is okay! I bought a pair of shoes today that I think are completely adorable, and also very trendy, but the longer I wore them in front of the mirror at home, the more I realized how unflattering they are on me. Just because it's at Mod Cloth (ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS) or H&M (remind me to tell you the story of the Sad 80s Corner that Brownie and I discovered when we went shopping last fall) doesn't mean it's automatically cute. Just because 7 For All Mankind is an upscale designer denim brand doesn't mean you should drop $180 for these. Please oh please remember, especially you kids out there, that we old people lived through the bad fashion of the 80s and 90s so that YOU don't have to.

(Sidebar: Why are they bringing all the terrible 90s fashion back? Where are the babydoll dresses and the Doc Martens and the girls taking style tips from Angela Chase, Rayanne Graf and Courtney Love? Why ACID WASH and TAPERED LEGS and whatever the hell this is??)

So this spring, as you're hitting the stores to get ready for the next few months of sunshine (or winter, for our upside-down readers), take a moment and think. Is this flattering on me? (You can go up a size and no one will know, we promise.) Will I wear this more than once? Is this the grown-up size of that outfit I wore for Easter in 1992? Am I only considering this because it's "trendy"? If the answers to those questions are No, No, Yes, and Yes, just stop, think about how much more fun it is to be comfortable and look like a normal person, and don't buy into that terrible trend.

Don't Use Your Dead Dad To Rebuild Your Brand

Of all the things I thought I would never have to tell people not to do, Don't Use Your Dead Dad To Sell Shit was, well, not even on the list, because honestly, what kind of creepy sociopath would you have to be to think that thirty seconds of you looking sad, coupled with the beyond-the-grave words of a deceased parent, would make us forget the epic slut parade to which you subjected America?

This kind of creepy sociopath, apparently:



Dear World,

He's sorry he banged all those skanks and his dead dad wants you to buy some Nike products. Thanks for your support!

Don't Shit on Erin Andrews

Erin Andrews, sideline reporter for ESPN for Major League Baseball, college football and basketball, and a variety of other sports, has had a tough year, to put it mildly. And now someone is suggesting that she's brought it all on herself and looks like a bimbo? Just STOP. Don't shit on Erin Andrews, and don't blame her for wanting to move on with her life.

In a scenario that would make just about any woman terrified, a creepy stalker was following her around the country, getting hotel rooms next to hers (apparently just by asking the hotel for a room near hers, which is so frightening), and then filming her changing in her hotel room through a peephole. And she found out about all of this because he put those videos on the internet. Thankfully, a while after the videos and the knowledge that it was her on the tapes became public, they caught the guy, and he is now in prison. But countless numbers of people saw that video, and now feel free to make nasty comments to her as she tries to do her job. And she won't be able to go into a hotel room for a really long time and feel at ease, and has nightmares about someone attacking her (and, of course, just him being sentenced caused people to start searching online for the video all over again).

In an attempt to move on, she joined the cast of Dancing with the Stars this season (as many journalists and athletes have done in the past). It seemed like a good fit for her to do something different, especially since she was on the dance team in college. And, quite frankly, she is rocking it this season, being smart and funny and getting good scores from the judges. Then, she just recently found out that she's been getting death threats from someone who has apparently been sending harassing emails since September. Despite that, she is still on the show, still smiling, and still saying entertaining things about the show, dancing, and OchoCinco on her Twitter feed. And yet, apparently, she's "made a fool out of herself and a sham of her profession."

How, exactly, did she do that? The reporter is sure to mention that she's a "comely blonde" and she was "flashing cleavage and thigh." And also that because she's a woman, she has to work twice as hard as men. Ah, so women journalists aren't allowed to relax and have fun, and definitely not allowed to wear pretty dresses. When Kenny Mayne -- also a reporter on ESPN, just like Andrews -- was on Dancing with the Stars a few seasons ago, did he make a sham of his profession? Oh, right, because he wasn't flashing cleavage! And he wasn't consorting with the likes of Pamela Anderson. The misogyny in that whole article is just insane, and it's coming from a woman. I'm not even going to link to some of the crazy comments on male dominated sports blogs about Andrews, but trust me, they're dripping with pure hatred of this attractive woman who dared to make a career out of sports journalism and then dares to enjoy it and enjoy herself. They loved her comeuppance, and are now angry that she's on national TV and isn't hiding out somewhere covering up every inch of skin and crying herself to sleep every night.

I hope that Erin Andrews stays on Dancing with the Stars as long as possible, as a big FUCK YOU to that guy in prison, all of those blog commenters, the people at those hotels who gave that guy in prison rooms next to hers, the woman who wrote that article, and everyone else who doubted her. Next time you want to shit on Erin Andrews for trying to move on with her life, just stop, think about everything that she's had to go through, and whether if you were her, you would be, as Daisy put it "in a cabin in Montana and with an extensive automatic weapon collection," and don't do it.

Update: Erin Andrews responds in an interview:
I'm just confused because I guess it's OK for an NFL player and a gold medalist to do the show and be taken seriously, but nobody else is allowed. People say, "How do you expect to be taken seriously?" Well, Evan Lysacek is taking this so seriously. The guy just won a gold medal, has tons of endorsements, celebrities around the world want to meet him. Chad Ochocinco takes this so serious. He and Cheryl Burke are in the studio seven to eight hours a day. So that's my biggest confusion with the few people who judge me and say this is the wrong thing to do. I don't know what damage I'm doing. I'm basically killing myself to not embarrass myself. I've been in the top three in scoring each week, behind an athlete and a professional dancer and singer. I'm not sure what damage I created for myself. What am I doing to be a bimbo? I don't understand what I'm doing wrong.

You're not doing anything wrong at all!

Don't be afraid of whipping egg whites

Last week, poor Roxy had a harrowing egg white experience. She was making these cupcakes, and started whipping the egg whites for them. And she whipped, and she whipped, and she whipped, and whipped some more (not like that, you dirty people), and then she brought the laptop into the kitchen and IMed me in panic after she had been whipping the egg whites for 15 minutes and there was froth but nothing else. She was typing with one hand while holding the electric beater in the other hand, and while she managed not to get any egg white in her laptop, the whites were still not light and cloudy. I talked her down, we figured out the problem, she started over, and soon had beautifully fluffy egg whites, and the resulting cupcakes were delicious. So, in this first installment of an occasional series about food and cooking, I am here to tell you: Don't be afraid of whipping egg whites.

Now, as Roxy's experience shows, beating egg whites can be a little tricky, but if you remember a few key things, it will be a breeze. First, start with your equipment: room temperature egg whites, a clean, dry bowl, and clean dry beaters. The most important thing for the latter two are that they are clean and, you guessed it, bone dry. Apparently a copper bowl is the best thing for whipping egg whites, but seriously, who has a copper bowl? Glass or metal will do just fine. As for your beater, I usually whip my egg whites in my stand mixer, but a hand mixer is actually easier, especially if you only have a few whites. Optional additions are cream of tartar or lemon juice, I'll get to that in a moment.

The easiest way to separate your egg whites is to crack the egg into your hand, and let the whites fall into the bowl through your fingers. This technique makes it so much easier and cleaner to do it that way than cracking the egg and shuttling the yolk back and forth until as much of the whites as possible are gone: this way you get almost all of the whites into the bowl, you run less of a chance of puncturing the yolk and getting any yolk into your whites, and any bits of broken egg shell stay on your hand, and not in your whites. In order to get the whites to room temperature, you can either put the eggs into a bowl of warm water before cracking them (dry them off before cracking so that water doesn't get into your whites), or once you've separated them, put a bowl of warm water under the bowl that holds your egg whites and let them sit for a few minutes.

Then just turn on your beater and start whipping. Start the beater at a relatively low speed, and then turn it up when they start frothing. At that point, you can add a tiny bit of that cream of tartar or lemon juice (about 1/8 of a teaspoon per egg white) because they stabilize the whites and make them fluffier, but if you don't have any, it's not a big deal. Then keep whipping until they get fluffy. Then you're done! As they start to get fluffy, it's always better to go slow and keep stopping to check, because you don't want to overwhip them (this one of the reasons why it's better to use a hand mixer than a stand mixer for this, because you don't want to walk away and forget about them, because then they'll get liquid again). See, that was easy, wasn't it? And it took only a few minutes.

So the next time you see a recipe that looks great, but you pass it by because you have to whip the egg whites, just stop, think "I can do this!", and don't be afraid of egg whites.

A few other handy links about beating egg whites:
Beating Egg Whites Tips and Hints [About.com]
A video on beating egg whites [Epicurious.com]
Stage by stage pictures of beaten egg whites [bakingsheet]

Any egg white questions, or ideas for other "Don't be afraid of..." for cooking? Comment here, email us at stopthinkdont@gmail.com, or hit us up on Twitter.

Tuesday Quickies: Literature Edition

In honor of all the lovely YA readers/writers who enjoyed Brownie's celebration of YA Lit, this week's link-o-rama is for word-lovers everywhere.

Don't quit your day job:
Day jobs of famous authors (Lapham's Quarterly)

This whole interview is a Don't. Let's call it 'Don't be Nicholas Sparks:'
Nicholas Sparks, Miley Cyrus share a 'Last Song' love story (USA Today)

Don't feel the need to pretend you're reading Ulysses. Nobody actually likes that book:
Classic book titles book jackets (Book City Jackets)

Don't forget to put your tattoo somewhere that isn't going to sag:
Contrariwise: Literary tattoos

Don't quit after your first draft:
First Drafts (Surviving the World)

Don't miss Margaret Atwood's thoughts on Twitter:
Atwood in the Twittersphere (NY Books)

Don't worry about children loving the macabre:
Fairy tales or Twilight, horror and macabre fascinate children (Telegraph)

Don't forget how awesome fairy tale illustrations are too:
Red Fairy Book illustrations (Himmapaan)

Don't get eyestrain reading all of these awesome books:
Download 700+ free scifi books onto your iPhone (io9)

Don't fall for fashionspeak:
Fashion nonsense (Boston Globe)

Don't Be A Bad Neighbor

My husband and I bought a house about a year ago, after many years of living in dorms, apartments and giant houses with tons of roommates. We were psyched to stop sharing walls and floors and ceilings with strangers, and figured that moving out of downtown would solve all our problems. Sounds great, right? Well, reality ended up being a little different. And after living through yet another week of the same old crap, I am here to boss you around some more and to remind you please, Don't Be a Bad Neighbor.

Common sense, right? Don't have karaoke parties on a Wednesday night, and you're golden. Except it apparently takes a bit more than just straight common sense. For instance, in our last apartment, we had upstairs neighbors who didn't take their shoes off when they got home. I'm not one to judge someone's footwear choices (okay, yes I am), especially in their own home, but this particular choice meant that we had to listen to them clomp around for hours at a time. And they were night owls.

(That's leaving aside the night there was a threesome in the bedroom directly above ours. Lucky for them, we found it pretty humorous. Also lucky for them, it was relatively early on a weekend evening.)

These girls, who were directly out of college and enjoying being single girls in their twenties, also actually did some really nice things. I mean, they quieted down their Ugly Sweater Christmas Party when we asked them to. And they had an election night party that they invited everyone in the building to, which meant that we got to drink Jack Daniels with our 70something-year-old neighbor and hear all about his first marriage and his divorce anniversary. So that didn't suck, and made it easier - slightly - to overlook the constant 4-inch-heel parade over our heads.

And what about the neighbors in our first apartment together? Sure, Neighbor Tony, who was directly next door, was amazing and we're still friends with him. But what about the people who let their dogs pee (and worse) in the hallway instead of taking them all the way downstairs and outside? Or the ones who took my clothes out of the dryer and left them, damp, on top? I mean, it is not rocket science! If you're going to park someone in for the whole week, it's polite to leave an extra car key with your roommate or the landlord. If you're going to set your alarm, make sure you turn it off before leaving for the weekend. If you have a giant motorcycle, don't sit in your front yard and rev the engine for a full five minutes before you pull away (SERIOUSLY HE IS DOING THIS RIGHT NOW AND IT IS TEN PM WTF).

And if you live next door to someone with ears, PLEASE keep your four little yappy dogs fenced in, instead of letting them roam the neighborhood, barking at the heels of people just trying to mind their own business and causing bike crashes. Otherwise, you're going to turn Dog People like my husband into the kind of guy who buys the Dog Dazer II and wishes for fatal dog/car collisions.

As I mentioned, we've had one neighbor in particular who was wonderful. Neighbor Tony was everything you could want in an apartment neighbor - there to pick up your paper when you're on vacation, to get in touch with the landlord when you're locked out and don't have your phone, to trade books and talk movies with, but who doesn't expect an invite to every party you throw and isn't overly interested in the details of your life. The man could write a book about the ins and outs of being an awesome neighbor and, frankly, he probably should. (Hint: It does not involve leaving passive-aggressive notes.) Millions of apartment dwellers and homeowners would thank him. So the next time you think about turning the music up an extra few notches or busting out Dance Dance Revolution in your second floor apartment, just stop, think about the sanity of the people below you (or above you or on the other side of the wall), and don't.

Don't Overshare on the Internets

Do you remember when you discovered the internet? And all the horrors and glories - and porn - it holds? I, being the band geek that we have established that I am, spent much of junior high and early high school emailing back and forth with a girl who had a website about the flute - pieces she was studying, programs she was performing, etc. I got lots of great music recommendations from her, got her advice on the new flute I convinced my parents to buy me, and still wonder what she's up to.

These were also the days of AOL chatrooms (remember "a/s/l"? - that's, like, the great-grandparent of Chat Roulette), wherein I could indulge my propensity for nosiness and compulsive lying, curing me of the latter and only encouraging the former. However, I also remember clearly the day I realized that the internet could bring people together and also disseminate information at lightning speed. I was a senior in high school, skipping class and chatting online in the library, when someone mentioned they'd seen something about a school shooting on TV. This was before news sites had instant updates (or, more likely, before I knew about the news sites' instant updates), so I got all the information from all the other people in the chat room with me, then went home, turned on the news, and saw the images from Columbine.

Eventually, during my sophomore year in college, I ended up getting sucked into the narcissistic world of LiveJournal and life hasn't been the same since. I can't remember if LJ came before or after my forays into online fandom and television message boards - who knew that Buffy the Vampire Slayer could bring so very many people together? - but I do know that I made some of the best friends I've ever had through that awesome network of tubes and wires.

What I didn't do? Fill my LJ with the TMI of the drunken and slutty college life that I was living, or post inappropriate pictures on Facebook. (Because, kids, this was before Facebook. Can you even imagine such a dark time?) And ten years later, I say OH THANK GOD. Those pictures are tucked safely away in unmarked photo albums on the top shelves of closets where they belong, ready to be destroyed the moment my children grow into their snoop phase. And the memories? In my brain and the brains of friends from college, but through an Icehouse-soaked haze. NOT preserved for posterity through the magic of Google cache.

Here's what I also have not done: Picked fights with my partner online. Written about my constipation to introduce myself as the new editor of a pop culture blog (and followed it up with a post about farts). Posted pictures of my placenta on Facebook (I am not linking you to specifics. You are welcome). I also have not made very very creepy fanart (sorry about that), shown off my terrible tattoos, or stalked celebrities and then Tweeted about it (she was SHOCKED that anyone would think that was inappropriate).

I know the allure of internet anonymity can be tempting. And if you want to write Baby-Sitter's Club fanfic (that one's a classic) or about your adventures as a Vegas escort (NSFW), the internet is a great place to do it. But if you're blogging less anonymously or posting on Facebook, please oh please keep your TMI to yourself. Not just for your own sake - we don't have to tell you all about employers who Google, right? - but for all the rest of us, too. Because we don't care about your kids' diapers, your awesome new vibrator or dear GOD your hemorrhoids. (Minor bonus points for the anonymity on that one, though.)

So the next time you're thinking about Tweeting the details of your GI distress or writing a bitchy (or, worse, lusty) comment on your partner's Facebook wall? Just stop, think about the rest of the internets who have no interest in needing to run out and bleach our brains, and don't share more than you need to.

Don't Forget It's April Fools'

Whether you love it or hate it, April Fools is here. We'll be updating this entry throughout the day with the best/worst hoaxes we find, plus anything that sounds like a hoax but isn't. (Remember: Google announced gmail on 4/1 and everyone thought they were joking. Email with unlimited storage? Psssh. That's crazy talk.)

Jokes

As much as we would love Tribles & Bits cereal, Think Geek is just messing with us. (More joke products at the bottom of that page, including a Screaming Knife and Canned Unicorn Meat.)

Google is now known as Topeka (We can't believe Topeka, KS really changed its name to "Google" for a month. That's like that girl in middle school who insists everyone call her "Serena" even though her name is Sarah.)

YouTube introduces Textp, a text-only viewing experience

Witty, romance novel review sites Smart Bitches Trashy Books and Dear Author have decided to make some cash by selling their reviews on Etsy instead of just giving them away for free.

If you subscribe to Thrillist, don't worry: there is no such thing as MeetingRoulette or a restaurant serving peppercorn-encrusted elephant tenderloin.

Mom-guilt gone wild: Stay-at-home mom arrested for using bouillon cube.

Large Hadron Collider humor! LHC opens portal to another dimension. Meanwhile, a Man arrested at the LHC claims he's from the future. (In case you're wondering.)

Aw, it's a baby skeksis!

This is fake: Physicists assemble world's smallest snowman. This is real: Scientists create world's tiniest starship Enterprise.

Oh god, how I wish this one was real: Prankster tortures New York with elaborate In-n-Out hoax.

World of Warcraft Insider has gone through a few permutations today, including Twilight Insider and Gaga Insider.

io9 wraps up the best geek-related pranks on the web.

Oh, AfterElton, it's mean to tease: Kirk kisses Spock in Upcoming "Star Trek" movie

We actually had to read this one to make sure it was a joke. That says nothing good about Mickey D's: McDonald's scraps composting program because food won't decompose

Not A Joke
Census Bureau receiving forms with Star Trek races written in