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Consumer Behavior The Privacy Invasion Collection

Judging the Judges

Trigger warning: rated R for foul language.

I tend to think of myself as nonjudgmental. Ya know, accepting and respectful of all human beings. But upon reflection, I’m realizing we’re ALL disapproving of others. I tend to be hypercritical of those I see as cruel towards some people. The snobs in society. Judge Judy drives me crazy the way she rudely nitpicks at certain individuals.

So, I try to be accepting of all people. We’re all different. I had a friend who drove me nuts, she was so judgmental. But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t let go of me as a friend, and I didn’t want to tell her straight up that she was goddam ignorant; I didn’t know how she’d take it. But she had something to say about everyone, including the homeless people outside her apartment building. That, despite the fact that I first met her when we were staying at the shelter. But she considers that different than living on the streets. I finally let her go…

You know, most people are alright. Well actually, peasants on the street can be just as judgmental as anyone. The gossip about others never ends, no matter what circle of humans you find yourself in.

There is a lady that I sometimes see at the bus plaza and on the bus though that I’m curious about, and have a hard time not checking out her growing outfit, as she continues to add more and more layers of frills to it, made from cut up brightly colored fabrics. I saw her recently on a hot summer day, and my how her floral garden had grown! She must attract a lot of bees. I mean, she’s interesting, that’s for sure – a walking piece of art. But I wonder, how often does she disassemble and reassemble her getup? Or does she sleep in it? She doesn’t smell bad, not that I’ve noticed, so surely, she’s taking showers. How long does it take to take off all those layers of frills and how long does it take to put them back on? Or do the ruffles stay on her jeans and shirt that she can just pull them off in a cinch? So yeah, I try not to pass judgment on her. But she’s certainly an exhibitionist and I don’t know how she can stand the summer heat in all those layers. I saw her during the record heat wave that just hit the Pacific Northwest and she was still covered in layer upon layer of frills. I’m not so curious about her, however, that I’m gonna sneak into her home and set up spy cameras to find out what her daily habits are like. That is something I’D never do.

Her outfit actually, now that I think of it, reminds me of my crazy junk-based 3D art projects that started budding and blossoming in my apartment – spreading out across my living room like wild strawberries run amuck – during the few short months when I was doing meth, before my siblings and neighbors got super curious about me, so inquisitive about me that I believe they DID put spy cameras in my home. I also remember when I was playing dress up to entertain, cheer up, and energize myself, as well as sometimes dressing up for my boyfriend. I had cut up fabrics and concocted some wild, sexy ensembles. Normally though I didn’t go out dressed super crazy. But come to think of it, one time I did. This was during my post drug-days (which was a short-lived time for me), when I thought I was being spied on, and I was determined to let it leak to the public that my 4th amendment constitutional privacy rights were being violated. I wore some kind of crazy getup. I wish I could remember what it looked like. All I can recollect is I had a collage duct taped to my outfit made from some issues of The Finger, which was an underground zine some friends and I put together. Well, I only worked on the Finger for three issues, actually. I believe I was also wearing a denim jacket with “Report Privacy Invasion! Call Crime Check!” along with Crime Check’s local phone number, even though I wasn’t really the biggest fan of “law & order.” Anyway, I went out clad like a spectacle, hoping to draw interest to my cause (my resistance to privacy invasion). I thought if I could attract attention, perhaps someone would investigate and discover that I was being spied on. I also had produced signs on blank paper using colorful sharpies and doodling that I taped to my apartment window facing a distant parking lot, in the hopes that someone would see the signs and take out binoculars to read them and view my battle for privacy rights. The regional manager told me to take the signs down as I was “defacing” the building, and I protested, insisting that I was being spied on and it was my cry for help.

Another time I crafted a huge sign and dressed up in an interesting – albeit not as spectacular as the getup I wore to my outing – outfit and started chanting “Psychological torture is against international law!” outside. A lady passing by asked me what it was all about, and I told her some people were spying on me and putting me through psychological torture. She responded with something like “Well, good luck!”

I do recall dressing slightly odd when I was in high school, and later when I was attending E.W.U. I was a radical Spokane cheerleader, against war, and had been inspired to “wear my art” by spoken-word artist Alix Olsen. But my outfits were NOTHING compared to this lady with piles upon piles of colorful frills decorating her underclothes, which remain on her regardless of the weather. I mean, someone I saw at a Mead High School reunion did comment that she liked the clothes I wore in high school, which just meant she thought my garments were “interesting”, but this was a high school with a bunch of rich preppy snobs and it didn’t take much imagination to be “different” at that school.

There was a time when my friend Orion and I ventured out, decked out in costume to distribute copies of the first ever issue of The Finger (with a middle finger printed on the front page pointed at an image of The Spokesman Review) in FRONT of The very same Spokesman Review. It was my idea to dress up initially, and I wore some kind of outfit with the bottom half of my bridesmaid dress from a friend’s wedding. It was a two-piece bridesmaid dress with a full long skirt; pastel lilac colored with metallic beads attached. I can’t remember the rest of the outfit, but I definitely remember what Orion put together. I have no idea how he did this, but somehow, he was a two-sided man. On one side he was wearing a white wife-beater ribbed tank top with red and white polka dot boxers, and on the other side he was dressed up like a 1930s businessman. He’s a true artist and did a fantastic job putting together that ensemble!

There was another time during the alleged spy operation, when I was hoping to attract FBI attention in hopes that they’d investigate my outlaw vigilante spies. I painted “DRUGS” with acrylic paint in loud colors and large print (maybe red and black? Can’t remember) on a canvas bag. I was walking near the federal building downtown. I don’t know why I thought they might be interested in helping a radical leftist out who had also been a suspected and actual drug user. I mean, they really don’t care at all about us. The feds and police let somethings slide, while inventing reasons to put more people of color, radicals, and drug users behind bars. I’m white but I had been a radical who had probably drawn at least a little bit of FBI attention in the past (well one friend though I probably had an FBI file based on what all I posted on Facebook). I was quickly becoming a temporary non-leftist however as instead of wanting a world without prison, I wanted to send a bunch of people to prison who I thought spied on me. But I reasoned we could let most everyone else outta jail!

So I guess I’ve been known to draw attention myself, although nowadays I go out dressed like a total “normal” person. You wouldn’t guess I ever had a wild streak from my current attire. Well maybe on occasion I sport a neat black & white bandana, but that’s about it. And I’m glad my junk-based art collection and scrap collection aren’t expanding exponentially and consuming my home. It’s good I’m writing instead. Although I must say, my new collection of hand-written journals IS increasing. They don’t take up as much space as my gigantic art projects, my years of accumulated paperwork, and my enormous book collection. But they do take up space. I might get around to scanning them someday to my PC, but then they’ll hog up digital space, and I’d need a roomier external drive, or an extra one. Eventually the external drives would pile up and invade my living room space!

Anyway, so yeah, I’m against judging and yet I judge people who judge, as well as notice some oddballs of society, but you know, some people really do deserve to be judged. Like white supremacists who murder black people. And x-husbands who forcibly budge their way into their ex-wives’ homes to look through the cupboards. Hell yeah, I’m gonna judge them! I’m gonna judge the fucking daylights out of them!

Speaking about people being judgmental; my sister Karrie recently called me a “nut bag” for accusing my siblings of having once spied on me. That ignorant fucking piece of shit bitch! It is NEVER okay to call someone a “nut bag”!