That Komen Thing

So, the news of Susan G. Komen's recent decision to stop sending funds to Planned Parenthood is all over my social media right now, and I'm being swamped by people encouraging folks to never donate to them again. And, as a walker, I guess I wanted to share my point of view.

I don't walk for Susan G. Komen. I don't raise funds specifically for Susan G. Komen. I walk for the people I know who have fought against breast cancer, and the people I don't know who have fought against it, and for myself, and my friends. And I raise funds for breast cancer research, and women's health. Because the cause matters in general, not because any one charity matters. And, while Komen made a bad decision here, they still do a lot of good, so far.

I don't agree with Komen's choice or decision. I don't agree with why they made it. And I've signed petitions and sent them statements expressing my opinion. But I will be continuing, at least this year, to participate in the 3 Day Walk. Because I still care about breast cancer, and women's health, and because I still think it's a worthy cause. And I hope, even if people choose not to financially support me in this decision, that my friends and loved ones can at least still respect my choice, and give me their emotional support as I walk.

This Needs To Happen Now

You know what I really, really want to see?

A story, in just about any media - novel, tv show, movie, whatever - about a succubus who DOESN'T dress like a cheap just-post-pubescent BDSM model trying to work it like it's for sale and the rent is due tomorrow.

Think about it. If you're a damn succubus, with magic make-yourself-sexy powers, you don't actually need to dress in stiletto boots and waist cinchers and false eyelashes and fourteen pounds of eyeliner and spend all your time panting and touching yourself. You're magic. You can look like whatever you want, and still get All The Boys.

If I were a succubus, I'd be wearing freaking mukluks and fleecy sushi-print pajamas and I'd never wear any makeup except chapstick. Well, and glitter, because glitter is just cool, and I'd revel in the fact that every guy who ever touched me would be tainted with my glitter cooties. But I wouldn't wear it for hotness's sake. Because I wouldn't need to.

So please, someone, write this for me now. And then get it on SyFy, because it'll be a world and a half better than what they're airing now.

(This message brought to you by the commercials for 'Lost Girl,' because I cannot actually bring myself to watch an episode of what looks to be a discount Laurel K. Hamilton knock-off made for cable tv show....)