erin judge writes this

My photo
I'm Erin Judge. I'm a comedian and a writer. I live in Los Angeles. Let's hug.

June 26, 2013

tens of thousands of children

"The differentiation [between heterosexual and homosexual couples] demeans the [homosexual] couple, whose moral and sexual choices the Constitution protects, see Lawrence, 539 U. S. 558, and whose relationship the State has sought to dignify. And it humiliates tens of thousands of children now being raised by same-sex couples. The law in question makes it even more difficult for the children to understand the integrity and closeness of their own family and its concord with other families in their community and in their daily lives." 
- Justice Kennedy, United States v. Windsor (via Andrew Sullivan)
Growing up in the North Dallas suburbs, I struggled to keep my gay family a secret from friends, peers, my teachers, and my community. Today, Justice Kennedy used the unfairness of my situation to justify the elevation of same-sex marriage rights to the federal level. He affirmed my dignity and the dignity of others like me, not to mention that of my parents.

I'm incredibly moved and grateful. 

[update: 11:46am]

I still can't believe it. I seriously keep crying. The Supreme Court just said the greatest struggle of my adolescence was humiliating and unfair. I haven't felt this validated by anything since Daria.





June 10, 2013

petty vandal

I went to a Texas high school: friday night lights, homecoming court, the whole shebang. Cheerleaders were elected by the student body. It was literally a popularity contest. In response to this climate, I pierced my face and smoked pot and put my head down and powered through until I finally got to college far, far away.

Every morning, I arrived at school right around the same time as a dude who drove a white Jeep and played some kind of sport (which I think might've been soccer). He was a real class act. He had a bumper sticker that said: 

I don't like girls who use four letter words, like DON'T, STOP and QUIT.

I would see that sticker and boil with fury and simultaneously marvel at yet another example of the school's culture of hypocrisy. Between all their expressions of homophobia and pole-praying, you'd think maybe one of this kid's many allegedly pious Christian teammates or teachers or school administrators might've said something to him about it. Or maybe his parents. Or maybe any of the girls he ever met in his whole life. And yet. In he drove, with the sticker, every day.

Alone in my rage, I seethed all year, hating the sticker and hating the school I had to show up at even more. I felt exploited and marginalized: my friends and our test scores raised local property values, but our contributions to the school were never celebrated with bonfires or mandatory pep rallies. The vice principal confiscated my eyebrow ring in the hallway (yes, it was bloody and gross), and yet this kid got away with his decidedly unsubtle rape-tastic sentiment every single day.

Towards the end of the school year, I got dismissed early one day, probably after several insane hours of high-stakes international test-taking. The kid was parked next to me. 

I ripped the sticker off his bumper and shoved it into his spare tire.

Of course, there are many benign and even sex-positive ways to interpret this sticker's content. One translation might be: "I prefer girls who enjoy sex!" Wouldn't that be something? But I don't think we can make any mistake as to what kind of attitude this dude was actually intending to express: "I expect to get whatever I want from girls, and the ones who put up a fight are bitches."

In comedy, arguments about limits on speech quickly conflate any kind of criticism with censorship. Personally, I think people should be allowed to say whatever they want, and by and large they totally fucking are. Nobody's getting arrested for telling rape jokes at comedy clubs, or even banned, from what I've heard. And that's a good thing, because freedom of expression is a human right.

But when I think about my isolated 17-year-old self and about how much satisfaction it gave me to fuck with this junior misogynist, I can't quite see what I did as akin to censorship. People like that dude had all the power, or at least the blessings of those with the power -- the cops, the administration, the community -- to get away with whatever immoral shit they felt like doing. My angry little act felt like a kind of much-needed punk rock vandalism, insipid and futile as it might've been, and I honestly still feel oddly proud that I did it.

So did I deprive this kid of his right to free speech? Or was destroying his property a noble act of defiance? Either way, one thing is for sure: if he really doesn't like girls who use four letter words, he would hate the fuck out of me. 

Then as now. 



June 6, 2013

myq kaplan is my life coach

(Editor's note: Myq's CD Meat Robot came out on June 11th. Download it here.)

As regular readers of this blog know, I've had kind of a rough year. Fortunately for me, I'm lucky enough to be good friends with the hilarious and talented Myq Kaplan...



....who graciously agreed to help me out of my doldrums by listening to me bitch and giving me little pep talks. In return, I secretly wrote down choice quotes from our conversations to someday share with the entire world.

So, dear reader, please enjoy the deliciously logical advice of Myq Kaplan, Life Coach:

“You can brag to me! I’m doing better than you!”

Are you? I hadn't noticed.

“You’re a woman with a brain who has sex and says things!”

Thanks! Maybe I'll put that in my bio.

At some point in our conversations, I started venting my fears about having kids some day, which produced these gems:

“You don’t have to be bored when you’re pregnant. Read a book!”
“You could be a MILF. Now you’re just a LILF. You know, a Lady.”

Again, serious bio potential there.

And finally, one day I was really pouring my heart out when Myq suddenly interrupted me to say:

“Hang on, Erin. I just saw a pre-adolescent girl wearing a T-shirt that I also own.”

For the record, the shirt in question is this one:

In conclusion, I love you, Myq. Thanks for everything.

(You should love Myq too. Follow him on Twitter and listen to his podcast and become his devoted fan forever. You can thank me later.)