Since launching in 1877, the electoral college has thwarted the will of the people multiple times.

These adorable Elf on the Shelf ideas are perfect for the holidays! But they will not justify the Electoral College that got us Trump in the White House.

Look at this naughty lil’ guy! While the kids were sleeping, he drew faces on all of the bananas! This will make your kids say, “Haha!” and “Silly bananas!” and “This still doesn’t explain why an outdated vestige of the slave era continues to give disproportionate power to small, rural states!”

What a cute, sleepy elf! This is an easy, fun idea for Elf on the Shelf that will never provide a sufficient defense of a system that has granted the loser of the popular vote the presidency five times.

What do you think? Does this cross the line from funny to gross? No matter what you think, in the spirit of the holidays, it’s important to remember that because of the Electoral College, no Democrat’s vote has counted in Alaska, Wyoming, or Idaho since 1964 (and no Republican’s vote has counted in New York since 1984, or California or Illinois since 1988!)

Wow, what a fun trick! Another good trick is when you tell your children “Your vote counts” when it demonstrably and historically does not.

Oh goodness, look what a mess this Elf made! It’s a fun way to remind your kids of how silly string is constitutional literalism, and the oven is literally everything in America.

Messy little elf, you’re going to have some explaining to do! What you won’t be able to explain is why, in the name of fairness and equality, the Electoral College gives three times the voting power to the citizens of the three least populous states.

I wonder how many reps this lil’ gym rat can do? While you’re wondering, please explain to my kids why a man nearing a 3 million vote loss will be President.

Whew! This elf is chilled out! What do you think he’s reading? Maybe Alexander Hamilton’s Federalist Papers, where he justifies the formation of an “intermediate body of electors” by explaining that they would act as a failsafe, just in case the general populace, in their “heats and ferments,” tried to elect some kind of no-nothing maniac? It’s almost as if the Electoral College was literally designed to prevent Donald Trump from becoming President! But . . . no? Nothing?

Yeah, that looks right.

I am writing to apply for a position in the Trump cabinet. It doesn’t matter which position — as a rich white man I believe I am qualified to serve in all of them.

I have decades of experience being both white and rich. Like President-elect Trump I worked very hard to earn the money I inherited.

I began my career as a lowly vice president at my father’s high-end hotel and global development conglomerate, Edward Vernon International Luxury Corporation. Through industriousness, entrepreneurialism, and my father’s death, I’ve risen to CEO of EVIL Corp.

As CEO I have shown great leadership and business acumen. My responsibilities include increasing my own compensation, evading taxes, and hiding evidence of fraud and malfeasance. I’m confident these skills will prove invaluable in President-elect Trump’s government.

I am also proud to call myself a job creator. I’ve created thousands of jobs and increased my company’s profits by hiring low-wage, part-time workers and providing them meager benefits. You can see I am passionate about the economy.

My complete lack of government experience makes me the perfect candidate for a top position in the federal government. I particularly look forward to constructing policies that will benefit myself and my industry. I’m certain that what’s good for rich white men like me is good for America. I know President-elect Trump shares my values.

Thank you for your consideration. Please feel free to contact my character references, pharmaceutical executive Martin Shkreli and former Wells Fargo CEO John Stumpf.

Cordially,

Edward Vernon Jr.

CEO, EVIL Corp.

By Emma Tessler

Content warning: Anti-semitism

Once upon a time, on October 30, 2015, The Establishment published a piece I wrote. Time went on, people changed, I cut my hair, life was simple and good. On September 10, 2016, the New York Times published my wedding announcement. My mother cried, my father didn’t care, and neither did anyone else. Then, on December 3, 2016, apropos of LITERALLY NOTHING, someone on Twitter got ahold of these two publications and the trolling began.

I remember the date because I was visiting my parents to see the annual children’s Christmas ballet that my 75-year-old father dances in and my phone kept vibrating. Was it someone who wanted to send my dad well wishes? Ask me to Instagram another photo of this holiday extravaganza? NOPE IT WAS ANTI-SEMITISM CALLING. GUESS IT’S NOT AS ANTIQUATED AS WE ALL THOUGHT.

For the next few days, I got notifications every minute from people whose takeaway from those two articles was basically that Jews are the worst, and they wanted to make sure I knew it. They took clips from interviews I’d done and made a video of me. They found my Instagram. They emailed my company.

What Everyone Gets Wrong About Anti-Semitic Twitter Trolls

And, well . . . it turns out that getting trolled on Twitter really makes a gal think. I have a few questions for my beloved trolls.

1. When you say that Hitler is “to your left,” what do you mean by that? What was too liberal about Hitler? Did the gas chambers somehow help the environment? This is a serious question.

2. When you photoshop a picture of me wearing a pizza necklace, what message are you trying to send? At first glance, it doesn’t seem like it fits into your greater message of anti-semitism and hate, but maybe it’s something about pizza ovens and those ovens you keep offering to fire up for me? Either way, I sure do love pizza. Thanks, trolls!

3. Speaking of ovens, when you say “she’s going to love my ovens” and “fire up the hottest ovens,” are you referring to your home kitchen? I personally have a very old oven in my apartment and I have not been loving it. However, my mother recently got a stainless steel oven and it is glorious. Is that the kind of oven you have? I don’t know that I’d get too excited about anything less than a stainless steel oven, but if you have one, then you’re right! I will love it!! Thanks for preheating it for me!

When you tell me I'm going to love your oven are you referring to your home kitchen? I personally have a very old oven in my apartment and I have *not* been loving it.
Click To Tweet

4. I noticed that you’ve been tagging me in photos and cartoons of overtly semitic looking people. Nice move. But then you tagged me in a picture of Steve Buscemi. Isn’t Steve Buscemi Italian? Do you think I look like Steve Buscemi? Again, serious question.

(Side note: One time I pulled Steve Buscemi in a game of charades, and he is REALLY hard to act out.)

5. You keep calling my husband a “merchant.” Is this a reference to The Merchant of Venice? What a play! What a work of art! My husband would be honored to be cast in the titular role, but unfortunately, he’s not an actor. Do you think you’d be willing to cast him anyway? Or did you not mean the play . . . ? Maybe you meant an actual merchant? Like the guys who sell pickles at the Brooklyn Flea? God, I wish my husband sold pickles. Specifically Bread and Butter pickles. Those are my favorites.

What were we talking about?

6. And while we’re on the subject of my husband, his last name is Jacoff. Jacoff. And I feel like you guys haven’t done enough with that. Sure, you’ve mentioned it a couple of times, but that’s it! You haven’t made any puns, any limericks, nothing! I thought you were supposed to be professionals. I mean, judging by how many hours you’ve been spending on your computer over the last two days saying offensive things to me, I would think you could have come up with some great stuff by now.

Our wedding hashtag was #whatacoupleofJacoffs! Okay, that was a freebie, but I hope it’s enough to get you started. Raise the bar, guys. Demand more of yourselves.

Trumpian Conspiracy Theories And Anti-Semitism Are Intimately Connected

7. When you made a video of me that got retweeted over 600 times, I was so flattered! But I watched it and I was a leeeeetle confused. I know, I know. Me and my small Jewish brain. (Or wait . . . do you think we have small brains? Big brains? Brains shaped like the numbers 666?) Anyway! You took a picture of me and my merchant husband and overlapped it with a video of some Hasidic men dancing . . . and it looked like a real fun party! Is the video an elaborate evite? And is the party still happening, because I don’t know, I’m just feeling like I could really dance it out right now, you know?

8. Now, about Donald Trump . . . I don’t think that he invented anti-semitism. People have hated that I’m Jewish for years now! But I couldn’t help but notice that a lot of your Twitter handles are Donald Trump themed. And you guys have got some good stuff there. EmperorTrump, PresidentElectTrump, ProTrump, SirCumsalot, I could go on and on.

My question is: Did you know that Donald Trump’s very own favorite daughter Ivanka is Jewish? And his little Trumplet grandchildren are also Orthodox Jews! Now I’m not questioning your hate (I would never do that), but I am a little confused about your logic. Do you also hate Donald Trump’s daughter? Do you hate his little wee grandchildren? I know, I know, Ivanka is blonde and that makes the whole thing very confusing, but I promise, she is Jewish! Again, just looking for your thoughts here.

When you made a video of me that got retweeted over 600 times, I was so flattered!
Click To Tweet

9. One of you called me a “7/10, for a Jewess.” I don’t have a question for you. Just wanted to say heyyyyyyyyy.

10. Now, since I promised to only ask 10 questions, we’ll have to leave the white genocide I’m organizing, your proposed “blitzkrieg” on my business, your desire to watch me burn, the fact that “sixty-million Germans weren’t wrong,” the fact that you think I got “bitten by a radioactive r*tarded spider,” the theory that I just took a break from smoking crack, and the awesome pun “just a COHENcidence” until next time.

I know, I’m just as bummed as you are. What I really wanted to ask you about was when you said that if “she had as many sticking out of her as she had stuck in her, she’d look like a porcupine.” . . . I assume you mean penises, yes? The scenario here is that I would have a lot of penises sticking out of me? Making me look like some kind of penis porcupine? I guess this is not so much a question as it is a request — but could the guy who photoshopped the pizza necklace make me a mockup of what this would look like? I need a new profile picture because I’m worried my Hillary “H” might make me a target for some unsavory characters.

You’ll help me out, right?

The latest how-to from Make Your Face, a makeup tutorial series with a simple mission: makeup by you (me) for your (my) own entertainment, Establishment-style. Now in dazzling video!

As the controversy rages around Colin Kaepernick’s ongoing protests of the National Anthem — he’s been lauded as a hero and an anti-American alike — we’re reminded that the public eye is a potent place of power and sway.

Say what you will about celebrity worship and the danger of a pretty face being given a platform — look no further than Jenny McCarthy to see the kind of damage that can be wrought when fame and fallacious beliefs collide — they can be a valuable source of social change.

As we anticipate Kaepernick’s return to his starting quarterback position this Sunday, it’s important to reflect on the effects he’s had on calling attention to systemic racism and police brutality . . . and on the impact other celebrities have had on social progress as well.

***

***

Welcome to our series “Love Poems to Cat Callers”! Every week we’ll bring you a new poem by Teresa Spencer, read by a different woman celebrating the joy that is being sexually degraded on the street. This week, Anne Thériault reads her tender homage.

To the Trucker

A prose poem to the trucker who blasts his air horn at women as he passes on the right, making them startle — and twist ‘round — and wonder — are my brights on? No. It’s a blue midmorning, and I’m pretty sure I see your fingers waggling suggestively in the rearview as you pull away, leaving me with only a memory, a hairy patch of elbow jutting from the driver’s side window. A whisper of exhaust. Our connection — so fleeting. Your come-on — so appealing. What is your number? How do I date you? I see you sanding the wooden rungs of our children’s treehouse ladder, driving me in the cab of your big rig to my colonoscopies, holding my paper-thin wrist in your flat, chappy palm as I slip — cherished, beloved — from this world. Another love lost to the dotted yellow line disappearing over the horizon.

REAL Black feminists have this image framed in their homes already.

By Bridget Todd

We did it y’all.

Now I know that some of my Black feminists sistas weren’t on board after we picked Nate Parker as our newest takedown target. But I’m pleased to announce that after much scheming and planning, Black feminists have finally succeeded in shutting down Nate Parker’s Birth of a Nation. Praise be to Audre Lorde!

In fact, we were so successful that the movie Storks did better at the box office this weekend than Birth.

When I heard the news that Nate Parker’s Birth of a Nation was a giant flop with both critics and the box office, I laughed heartily to myself while I lovingly stroked my copy of This Bridge Called My Back that I keep next to my jar of male tears. I’m so thrilled to have another win under our belt.

Parker’s film was panned for being rife with historical inaccuracies and for wrongly portraying Black women as docile creatures lacking in agency.

If people only knew all the scheming it took for us Black feminists to build a time machine, use it to Inception our way into Nate Parker’s thoughts, and force him to sabotage his own film though shitty screenwriting, they’d be in awe of the power we wield. Yes, we’re really that good.

Look around! ~Obviously~ we Black women are drunk off of the power that comes with controlling every aspect of society. Haven’t you ever wondered why Black women are in charge of virtually every political, financial, and social institution in America? Haven’t you ever wondered why Hollywood roles always go to Black women and why most of our media is directed and produced by Black women?

Now I know what you’re thinking: Since when have Black women had such firm control over America? I thought white men basically ran everything? You only think that because it’s what we want you to think. Real G’s move in silence like lasagna.

We even had our Black feminist double agents working on discrediting the film from the inside. I hate to put her on blast, but Birth costar Gabrielle Union is one of us. “I support you if you don’t want to see the film. I absolutely understand and respect that. I can’t sell the film,” she told Essence. For her brave display for loyalty to Black feminism, Gabrielle will be moving up the ranks of leadership and one day she might even get to pick our next target.

We have sleeper cells all over the country. We’re everywhere. Lurking. Planning. Waiting. Watching. We can destroy everything you’ve built with a single tweet. Don’t test us.

Nate Parker found out the hard way — other than destroying the nuclear family and ensuring NBC never has Black male ownership, nothing fills our Black feminist hearts with more joy than crushing the dreams and souls of successful men. We can and will ruin you in service of our own petty whims. So you’d better think twice about your behavior. Because today it’s Nate Parker, but tomorrow . . .

it could be you.

***

This post first appeared at Medium and is reprinted here with permission. Lead image adapted from flickr/Athena LeTrelle.

Lady Gaga, “Yaaaaas Queen” source: flickr/Jason H. Smith

By Riane Konc

-That is acceptable.

-Indeed.

-Sure (but I’m in a good mood).

-Sure (but I just binge-watched all of Broad City).

-Sure (but I just binge-watched all of Ru Paul’s Drag Race).

-Upon brief reflection, I agree with your general premise.

-I did not hear what you said, but the general reaction of my peers leads me to believe that the plans put forth are acceptable, and I’m a follower.

-We have been texting back and forth for quite some time, and while I do not necessarily feel excited by what you are suggesting, I am basically fine with it, and since a “sure” in a text message can be misread as angry or annoyed, I have decided to respond enthusiastically in order to avoid conflict or misunderstanding.

-You, an old high school friend who is in town, have just cancelled our plans to get coffee and “catch-up” and while I was excited about it in theory, I was dreading it in practice, and so when you followed up your cancellation by saying, “But next time I’m in town we’ll totally hang out, right?” I agreed with the optimistic vigor characteristic of someone who just found out she can stay on her couch all day and watch Netflix and is convinced that in six months or so, she will indeed want to get coffee and catch up (she will not).

-Yes.

-Maybe, but I want to sound confident.

-I’m completely ignorant of the myriad ways that white heteronormative culture co-opts the language of historically marginalized communities, managing somehow to both take credit for and effectively ruin it at the same time.

-LET’S GET FRO-YO, BITCHES!

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Women do anywhere between 10 to 20 more hours of housework per week than their husbands do, according to a study released this week. Some women were surprised by the results.

“I’m floored,” said Julie Marcus, a financial analyst. “On the other hand, this explains so much. Last night after dinner, my husband said, ‘Thanks for that snack, honey,’ and I threw a sack of navel oranges at him. I was like, ‘My goodness! Where is all this resentment coming from?’ Now I understand!”

“I admit to being somewhat taken aback,” a lab technician named Naomi Hyde said after reading an article about the findings. “I had no idea that laundry and cooking and grocery shopping and cleaning amounts to so many hours a week. But that definitely sheds light on my chronic fatigue, and also the fact that I hurled a cantaloupe at my husband while he was napping on the couch yesterday.”

Some women acknowledged that they did more housework than their husbands, but said the disparity had not always been that way.

“When we first got married, we agreed to divide all the chores equally,” Etta Glover, a human resources manager, explained. “And it worked! For about five minutes. Then we had a baby. Now I can’t remember the last time a pomegranate made it through the day without being aimed at my husband’s head.”

Even though the study resonated with most women, a few defended the institution of marriage as totally worth it anyway.

“It’s a trade off,” said Glover. “On the one hand, I do more housework. But on the other hand I get to exhaustively research and plan our family vacation every year. So that’s one whole week a year that I get to kick back and drink mojitos while my husband plays in the swimming pool with the kids. Besides, what else would we do with the persimmons?”

“What’s the alternative?” said Hyde. “If I were unmarried, I might have much less housework to do, but I’d still get stuck changing the lightbulbs. And eating more bananas.”

One woman pointed out that though the study was enlightening, it gave a false impression.

“It may be that I do most of the housework,” said attorney Greta Miller. “But that doesn’t tell the whole story. I’m also the primary caregiver for our toddler, and responsible for everything that goes along with childcare for the older ones. I do the homework with the kids, for example. And the baths. Packing their lunches and schoolbags. Birthday party planning. School plays. Teacher meetings. Staying home on their sick days. Medical stuff. Driving them absolutely everywhere. What was my point again? Oh yeah. That my husband reads them a story each and every night just after I slingshot a Bosc pear his way. It’s the absolute sweetest!”

When asked if they would like the balance in their homes to change, the women gave varied answers.

“It depends what you mean by that question,” said Glover. “If the question is, ‘Do you wish that your husband would share the work more equally?’ then the answer is, ‘Sure. Why Not?’ But if the question is, ‘Do you wish that your husband would somehow magically transform himself into a berry-eating Centaur?’ then my answer would be exactly the same.”

“Frankly, I can’t imagine it any other way,” Marcus said. “I mean I’m thinking about what it would be like if my husband was the one doing the extra housework. And it would be, like, you know. It would be . . . Actually sorry, I can’t imagine it. Does anyone have a stalk of rhubarb handy?”

Some women expressed the hope that younger millennial women would share the housework more equally with their partners.

“That’s exactly what our mothers thought it would be like for us — more equality between us and our husbands,” Miller said. “So yeah. Maybe their hope skipped our generation and will go to the next one? Only time will tell. But there’s a watermelon sale over at the Stop & Shop, so I gotta run.”

“I’m not really bothered about the findings,” said Hyde. “I mean, look at Hillary Clinton. She probably did those extra hours of housework every week for years. And even though some believe she had the more promising career when they graduated Yale Law School, her husband got to be president first. But now she’ll finally have her turn! Or not. Whatever.”

***

Lead image: Pixabay

The Ripening

These twisted tales will really keep you up at night.

flickr/Mackenzie Greer

All of the avocados Sarah O’Donnell just got for $1 each on sale at Whole Foods suddenly turn brown at the same time.

The Summoning

Cam Cameron is summoned by a judge for penalties on 54 parking tickets. Alejandro Iñárritu directs yet another stunning one-take film.

The Sexting

A man asks a woman online how she is. She responds, “I’m great, how are you?” The Wi-Fi cuts out just as he sends her a picture of his erect penis.

Mouth

For Danny Gill, what was supposed to be a night of reckless, rampant sex turns deadly when he discovers hot sorority sister Jenny Jiang has a secret: Real words come out of her mouth. She has already embedded lethal feminist thoughts into the minds of 40 men, and he is her next victim.

A Nightmare on Frat Row

Two white guys go in search for the perfect party and don’t end up losing their virginities. Jesse Eisenberg and Robert De Niro star.

A Nightmare on Bedford Avenue

Cal Rodriguez finds his Brooklyn walkup haunted by the ghost of his ex-girlfriend. Except wait — she’s not a ghost. She’s real. She never moved out because apartments in New York are too expensive and they agreed to keep splitting the rent, but now it’s awkward because she’s hooking up with this other dude.

The Concealing

A man wakes up one morning and finds that his lover has removed her makeup and become a grotesque kitchen cabinet with hands for legs. What he thought was a beautiful woman with a smooth complexion was actually just a piece of furniture wearing an inch of concealer.

A Nightmare on Frat Row: Part II

It’s Super Bowl weekend. A huge blizzard shuts down every liquor store and wing place in Urbana-Champaign. After the second hour, the men of the U of I’s Sigma Chi frat become rabid and turn on each other. When the police break down their doors on Monday, they find only spilled protein powder, a soiled American flag, and a digested can of Keystone Light.

The Purge: Part II

A young woman arrives at the University of Oklahoma and chugs a Solo cup of Everclear, thinking it’s water. What’s more: It was enchiladas night in the dining hall that same day.

The Settling

Lina and Drew Crawford move into their newlywed home. But something’s up. The house creaks. The wind blows. Lina realizes Drew is a dumb piece of shit and she should have married that hot Bolivian guy from study abroad.

12 Years A Dave

Richard Linklater follows Dave, an average Plano, Texas telemarketer, from the ages of 24 to 36.

The Capturing

Janine Robertson has the night of her life. When she awakes, however, she is horrified to see that while intoxicated she posted not one, not two, but 37 badly lit unedited selfies on Instagram. She would delete them, but they have a decent amount of likes.

The Comforting

The world’s girlfriends all begin crying at once. Their boyfriends react. Some pat them on the back. Some scream at them to stop crying. Some go turn on the TV and drink a beer. The world ends.

The Awakening

A balding, middle-aged man wakes up in his studio in Queens. He rides the train to work. He eats a BLT. He catches up on House of Cards. A horrific, three-hour tour-de-force.

Illustrations by Katie Tandy

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