I got raped the second week of college, filed a police report, and then the detective comes back telling me that I’m lying about being raped and since I didn’t mention finding the guy’s facebook nothing else I say is credible. Went to a hearing to fight the charges, the university still found me responsible for making a false police report. Just got notified that I’m suspended and banned for the spring semester. I still haven’t told my parents. Help. What the fuck do I do? As if getting raped wasn’t bad enough now I’m getting kicked out because of it. WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO?

You’re dealing with a bunch of people who either don’t believe you or just want you to go away. Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. They don’t get to ignore the truth, and you aren’t going anywhere.

Lawyer up, take your story to the press, and sue the shit out of everyone — the university, the police department, the detective, the rapist — everyone.

It will be demoralizing, and there’s no guarantee that any justice will come of it, but you can’t roll over with shit like this. You have to fight it.

Don’t make it easier for them to accuse a woman of lying than it is for them to accuse a man of rape.

It’s easier to make a lot of money than to make “just enough” money. EVERYONE’s trying to make just enough money. There are so few actively trying to make a lot of money that they tend to help one another more. If you make a lot of money and don’t want it, you can always give it to worthy causes or people. But why let your state of mind be determined by a boss who decided they want to make a lot of money from your work? Go make it yourself.

Okay, fuckface. Lemme break down your stupidity line by line:

It’s easier to make a lot of money than to make “just enough” money.
No it’s not. It’s damn hard to make “just enough” money, and it’s downright impossible to make a lot of money without access to privilege, influence, and a fuck-ton of capital.

EVERYONE’s trying to make just enough money.
No shit, Sherlock. Life’s a fucking grind. Don’t act all superior, like you know some special trick that all the poor working stiffs haven’t figured out yet. Social mobility is a fucking myth, and you sound like an airhead talking about money like this.

There are so few actively trying to make a lot of money that they tend to help one another more.
Oh, you mean members of the elite class serve their own self interest through nepotism, cronyism, and favoritism? Yeah, I like how you tried to make unfair advantage sound like a good thing.

If you make a lot of money and don’t want it, you can always give it to worthy causes or people.
You sound like a fucking child. Do you even understanding how corporate capitalism works? Obscene wealth hoards itself at centers of power, relentlessly flowing back into its own gaping maw as value is leeched from helpless pools of human and natural resources. There are no worthy causes or people, just public relations and consumers.

But why let your state of mind be determined by a boss who decided they want to make a lot of money from your work?
Ugh. Social stratification is more than just a state of mind, you privileged little shit. The real world is a harsh and unforgiving place. I sincerely hope you discover that when you’re shat out the other end of whatever cut-rate business school is stealing your parents’ money.

Go make it yourself.
Go fuck yourself.

I’m currently sitting here feeling like I got hit by a truck, with bruises all over my body. This is not the first time my fiance has physically abused me, and I am sure it will not be the last. It is however, the worst. This time it was because I wanted to do something that he didn’t want me to, because of his insecurities. I know that he does this as a power play, because he loves the manipulation. But I think he really wants to get help this time. Who should he turn to? Am I a gullible idiot?

1. If he is with you now, simply get up and leave without saying another word to him. Go to a safe place with friends or family who support you. If that’s not possible, look online and find the nearest battered women’s shelter or police station and go there. The point is to get away from him right now. Do this immediately.

2. Once you are in a safe place, call the police. Do this tonight. Do not wait until tomorrow.

3. Have them fill out a report, provide them with the pictures of your bruises, and tell them you want to press charges. Have your ex-fiancé arrested, and do not help him post bail or accept any phone calls from him.

4. That’s right. Ex-fiancé. Make a commitment to yourself right now that you will never marry a man who beats you. It doesn’t matter that you love him. It doesn’t matter that he loves you. The only thing that matters is that you break this fucking cycle of abuse by finally getting out of this relationship.

5. Do not make one more excuse. Especially for him. Do not make this about him or what he needs. This is about you and what you need. Fuck him, and fuck who he should turn to. If he wants to get help, fine. Let him get help on his own goddamn time. Let him get help after you’ve taken out an order of protection against him. Let him get help when he’s facing a domestic violence conviction. Or not, because fuck him.

6. Move on with your life. As impossible as it seems right now, you can get past this. You do not need him. You deserve better than this, and I promise that if you start taking these steps, your life will improve.

7. This is not an overreaction. Everything I just said needs to happen, and you need to take action immediately. Go back to step one and read this again until you’ve summoned the strength to actually do it.

Will I achieve my dreams of becoming what I’m passionate about which is being a Singer/Model/Dancer/Actor even tho I’m completely unsupported by my parents both morally and financially, because their totally against it should i give up is it worth carrying on and pursuing this dream or should i just give up.

You are never going to be a professional singer/model/dancer/actor. That’s not even a thing. In fact, you will never achieve your dreams if all they are is ridiculous fantasies.

You are not passionate about singing, modeling, dancing, and acting. You’re just a silly child who’s fascinated by the idea of fame, and your parents are right not to provide moral or financial support for your self-absorbed fantasy of becoming a singer/model/dancer/actor.

I’m sure your parents are intimately aware of what was obvious to me after reading what you consider to be just one sentence: you’re an idiot. They’re not going to tell you you’re an idiot because they love you, but to their credit, they’re also not going to encourage your idiocy.

Let me tell you a secret I’ve learned from all my years in Los Angeles. People who use slashes in their self-bestowed titles are losers. Always. Every time, with no exceptions. The more slashes, the bigger the loser. The most common form is model/actress, and they’re bad enough, but when you start adding singer/dancer/whatever into the mix, shit starts getting insufferable.

Do not become one of these sad, pathetic losers.

If you have a dream (not a fantasy) of becoming a performer of some kind, and that dream is backed up with a shit-ton of talent and a burning passion to dedicate your life to perfecting your craft, and you’re willing to spend years broke and hungry while paying your dues, grinding your way through mountains of bullshit, avoiding all the pitfalls and predators, getting your ass kicked repeatedly to maybe one day have enough blind fucking luck to get a shot at earning a meager living doing what you love, then there’s a outside chance that it might be possible for you to become a singer. Or maybe an actor. Probably not a dancer, and definitely not a model.

Point is, you can pick one. Just one. Get rid of the slashes. No one will ever take you seriously until you do, and even then, whatever stupid fame-whore dream you have is almost definitely not going to come true, even if you devote your life to it.

Oh, and if any of this seems harsh, it only further proves my point that you’re a silly child who doesn’t know the difference between a dream and a fantasy.

I’d tell you good luck, but I really don’t think it’s gonna matter.

Is it strange that your advice to start by making your bed brought tears to my eyes? Being suicidal is basically the most difficult thing I’ve had to live with (pun slightly intended) and the simplicity of that first step… it just hit home. Thank you.

It may seem simple, but making your bed is quietly one of the most important daily rituals a person can have. I promise, it will change your life. I know that sounds like hyperbole, but it’s not. Those of you who already do it know exactly what I mean.

First and foremost, making your bed forces you to get out of it. That’s not necessarily a small feat, especially if you’re suffering from depression. Not only are you out of bed, but you can’t get back in. It’s a line of demarcation that officially starts your day.

More than that, though, it’s a ceremonial act of respect for oneself. It’s a deliberate measure of control that you can always take, even when the rest of your life is complete and utter chaos.

Do it. Every damn morning. It only takes a minute, but it will have a cascading effect that subtly improves everything else about the rest of your day, right up to the moment when you get to crawl back in to a well made bed at night.

When I think of all the truly successful people I’ve known in my life, the ones who really have their shit together, all of them — every last one — routinely make their beds every single morning. This is not a coincidence.

How should a male feminist flirt? (I get the impression that a little guide to this might help ease the symptoms of Nice Guy Syndrome sufferers…)

Oh my god, no. It is definitionally impossible to be a male feminist who suffers from Nice Guy Syndrome. The two couldn’t be more mutually exclusive. If you really are a male feminist, whatever social awkwardness you might be suffering should never be confused with something so gross as Nice Guy Syndrome.

What bugs me even more about this question is the assumption that courtship rituals are somehow different for male feminists than they are for other dudes. You’re not special because you identify as a male feminist. In fact, that’s not a label you get to claim for yourself, especially in this context. I’m sorry, but your behavior has to speak for itself.

How you should flirt as a male feminist is no different than how any dude should flirt, and quite frankly, there’s nothing I can tell you about flirting that shouldn’t be patently obvious to someone who claims to be a male feminist. But hey, since you asked, here’s my two cents:

First and foremost, be situationally aware. 90% of the awkward moments in the known universe could be avoided if guys would just pay attention to their surroundings before hitting on a girl.

Is it an appropriate time and place for you to flirt? Do you have any indication that your advances might be welcome? Is there anyone who might be made to feel uncomfortable if you started flirting? If you don’t have clear and positive answers to all of these questions, then any move you make will be a one way ticket to awkward town.

If you do have a handle on the situation, then it really just comes down to being respectful and not saying stupid shit. The goal is merely to telegraph a little bit of romantic intent through non-verbal cues.

Please note, I said romantic intent, not sexual intent. Leave your dick out of the equation. Communicating the idea that you find a woman attractive is not the same thing as communicating the idea that you want to fuck. If you fail to comprehend this simple distinction, then I assure you, you are not a male feminist, and for the sake of all womankind, you should probably never go out in public again.

Good luck with the flirting. Oh, and did I mention? Don’t say stupid shit.

Agree or disagree: while organized religious institutions are essentially a “collective mental disorder,” none of us actually KNOW the nature of reality or the reason for consciousness. Life in the universe actually might exist in some sort of spiritual context, and our inability to find “evidence” to prove it could be due to our own lack of physical, mental and/or technological tools that would allow us to do so. I’m not asking whether you agree or disagree with the sentiment itself,  just whether you believe you MIGHT be wrong about everything being meaningless and random?

Okay, you had me right up until the end there. Your problem is that you assume meaninglessness lacks a spiritual context. It doesn’t. Probing the depths of our insignificance can be a very spiritual experience, but as a concept, even spirituality is limited by the scope of the human mind.

I think also you may be saying spiritual when you mean deistic. They’re not interchangeable. If you’re suggesting that there might be a “creator” of the universe, I’m fine with that. We certainly can’t know for sure, and even if there is, that still doesn’t preclude a random universe or provide any inherent reason for consciousness.

If you’re eager for me to say that I might be wrong about the nature of the reality, then sure, I might be wrong.

Of course, my larger point is that it doesn’t matter even if you’re right.

I just told my boyfriend it bothers me that he is constantly either on his computer, his iPad (which I bought him) or watching TV. And his answer was that he’s like that because he’s constantly seeking knowledge and that I’m basically asking him to choose between me and knowledge. I know he’s not playing games but even if he is doing it for a “noble cause”, I don’t think I’m asking for a lot. He said that if we get to a middle ground, I’m going to keep asking for more. I feel like I’m in a never ending argument. Am I being unreasonable? For the record we only see each other weekends because we live an hour away from each other so he stays with me Fri-Sun.

I’m constantly amazed at how often I get questions that are some version of a girlfriend asking me, “Am I being unreasonable?” because the outrageous nonsense coming out of her boyfriend’s smug fucking face is so utterly ridiculous that it makes her question her rationality.

Let me assure you, and all the women out there like you, that you have not lost the capacity for reason. Your boyfriend is simply a self-centered douchebag who has so little respect for you that he won’t stop staring at a screen long enough to look you in the eyes and tell you to fuck off.

It’s bad enough that he can claim to be “constantly seeking knowledge” with a straight face, but do you have any idea how condescendingly rude and totally full of shit he has to be to create a false dichotomy between spending quality time with you and feeding his casual internet addiction?

Please do not believe for one solitary second that you are somehow asking him to choose between you and knowledge. All you are asking for is a bare minimum of togetherness, and if he’s not willing to give it to you, then you should kick him the fuck out of your house.

Your boyfriend is a gigantic gaping asshole for talking to you that way, and I honestly don’t know how you put up with it. Fuck his middle ground. Send his ass home for the weekend, call up all those friends you haven’t seen in a while, and go have some fucking drinks.

Motherfucker hasn’t even seen unreasonable.

What is your stand on gun control after recent shooting incidents, especially after a shooting at a major airport?

Same as it’s always been. I don’t want to ban guns. I just want to sensibly regulate gun ownership.

Gun owners should be required to carry a federally mandated, state issued firearms license (just like a drivers license) that involves the completion of a safety training course and demonstrated proficiency with whatever firearms they own. (Again, just like the DMV.)

Firearm liability insurance should be required by law for every owner of every firearm (just like auto insurance) and if you can’t afford or don’t qualify for insurance, then you can’t have the guns. In any state with a stand-your-ground law, additional firearm self-defense insurance should also be required.

All licensed gun owners should be required to register themselves as well as every firearm in their possession (along with proof of insurance) with a federal database that is accessible to state and local law enforcement.

Convicted felons, those convicted of gun-related misdemeanors, those under a domestic violence restraining order, or those deemed mentally unstable by the courts should not be eligible for a firearms license.

Most importantly, state and local law enforcement should institute comprehensive firearm confiscation and enforcement programs that actually purge this country of all non-registered or otherwise illegal guns. Getting caught with an illegal gun should be a big fucking deal. I can’t stress this enough. Everything else is bullshit without punitive, incentivized enforcement.

All costs associated with the above policies should be funded through fines, penalties, and additional excise taxes imposed on the sale of all firearms and ammunition. (Yet again, just like parking tickets, DUI fines, and gas taxes.)

Keep in mind, none of this should be construed as an infringement of the right of the people to keep and bear arms. I don’t have a problem with people owning guns. I just don’t think it’s too much to ask that they jump through the same hoops required to legally drive a damned car.

What do you think they’re saying in Supersymmetry?

Supersymmetry is a lament. The lyrics are a simple expression of the pain one feels after the loss of a loved one (real or imagined), but what makes the song particularly beautiful is that it relies on a poetic interpretation of the principle of supersymmetry in particle physics to help convey the emotion of grief.

Okay, first a little science. According to the Standard Model, there are only two types of elementary particles: fermions and bosons. Fermions are matter particles. They are the physical stuff of the universe. Bosons are force particles, and they’re responsible for phenomena such as light, gravity, and magnetism. I’m aware this is a dramatic oversimplification, but the distinction between fermions and bosons is essentially the distinction between the material and the ethereal.

This is where the poetry comes in. Supersymmetry is a theoretical extension of the Standard Model that predicts a corresponding boson for every fermion and vice-versa. In other words, every matter particle has a corresponding force partner, and every force particle has a corresponding matter partner. Supersymmetry links them. It is an elegant scientific principle that poetically bridges the divide between the material and the ethereal.

That’s what this song is about, a deep yearning for the material to be linked with the ethereal, and anyone who’s gone through the grieving process will understand the emotion behind the opening lines of the song:

I know you’re living in my mind
It’s not the same as being alive
I know you’re living in my mind
It’s not the same as being alive
Supersymmetry

After the loss of a loved one, keeping them alive in your memory is a profound experience. You are still a part of the material world, but they no longer are. They exist only in an ethereal sense, in your mind, and through countless intangible forces that can for brief moments feel very real.

And you desperately want them to be real. You want to stay linked to that person. You never want them to leave you, even though they are already gone. That’s what this entire verse is about:

It’s been a while since I’ve been to see you
I don’t know where, but you’re not with me
Heard a voice, like an echo
But it came from you
Supersymmetry

The idea of supersymmetry is repeatedly invoked as a conceptual metaphor for what it’s like to still feel linked to someone who no longer exists. With one simple word, the song manages to encapsulate existential grief, one of the most powerful emotions in the human condition.

I know it may seem a bit esoteric, but it’s really quite beautiful.