Here’s What a 100-Year-Old Sex Therapist Thinks is Wrong With Sex Today

Moxie Supper:

An intimate meal of each other

Originally posted on TIME:

She was born before the invention of the stop sign, but sex therapist Shirley Zussman has some thoughts on ‘hooking up.’ “I don’t think it’s as frantic as casual sex was in the sixties,” she says, noting that modern ‘hooking up’ isn’t as exciting without the context of a sexual revolution. Besides, she adds: “In the long run, sexual pleasure is just one part of what men and women want from each other.”

At 100, Dr. Zussman is still a practicing sex therapist in New York City. In the 50-plus years since she began counseling people about all things related to sex, Dr. Zussman has witnessed everything from the legalization of the contraceptive birth control pill in 1960 (she started in sex therapy shortly afterwards) to the AIDs epidemic in the 1980s to the rise of internet porn in the new millennium.

She’s one of the oldest sex therapists…

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I don’t want to remember, yet I do; I’d rather be asleep –as if I’ve eaten something incompatible with my system. Something I can’t digest –though I’ve had many years to get used to it.

I’m recalling –though I don’t want to– THE DAY when my deceased ex-father-in-law said I wasn’t a “real mother” because I’d adopted my children, one of whom was his niece –didn’t matter to him (he also didn’t come to my wedding, for which I made all dresses in the wedding party except my wedding gown) — Clearly the way he defined “what constituted “real” differed extremely from ways in which I defined “real” / “realities“…. So what was the equivalent of a “real” mother?

Evidently, a child had to grow in your own womb –not sure how he felt about implanted embryos or surrogates when a womb was insubstantial or unavailable, sill producing viable eggs despite a hysterectomy, for instance. And I was “real” enough, standing right in front of him on his porch, beside his son –to whom I was married –and even then we knew, although my then-spouse remained silent; we knew that it wasn’t “my” fault –not that childlessness must endure “blame” –how embarrassing for my spouse at the time, to have to admit that “HE” WAS THE REASON FOR THE CHILDLESSNESS of the marriage! –yet every doctor visited always ASSUMED THAT I WAS THE REASON! –but I wasn’t, having been raped when I was fifteen, and getting pregnant from that rape (I knew I could get pregnant) –didn’t have that baby –just as I shouldn’t have, despite those children of rape who managed to grow up without (visible) scars of their conception (and I shouldn’t have had that baby…. I was much too young, and would have changed my life significantly, I imagine –can’t say for sure since I didn’t take that route of being a teenager (would have been 16 when that child would have been born; was craving popcorn when my pregnancy could no longer be hidden at home… never talked about this! –never said a word! –completely altered my behavior at school… I started sitting in the backs of classrooms, and said nothing! –absolutely nothing! –was pushed through corridors by movements of crowds; grades plummeted –didn’t matter to me how I performed! –I recalled how I’d done nothing to try to stop this older man, deacon at my mother’s church, from violating me! –he was 25, I was 15!

But there I was, standing beside the man (age 23) who met me when I was still 16, right after a third-trimester abortion in New York State, where it was legal in 1970… Of course, he’s stated that he did nothing wrong, nothing for which he had no permission; I consented to everything, one way or another… developed a dependence on him, similar, perhaps, to those who begin to “love” their jailers, their captors…. Anyway, I was in another situation over which I had no control…. Even married him….

After a few years of marriage my ex-spouse was certainly aware that he was the one unable to procreate, despite what doctors seemed to think, as I was consistently the one “blamed” for the childless marriage –so we adopted children and became a family instead of a couple, first his niece (when she was seven, because her mother, [as did her mother’s identical twin sister [[reminds me a bit --though an entirely different case-- of the Gibbons sisters of "Silent Twins"]] my ex-spouse’s sister (as did her identical twin), lost custody of her five children for neglect), then in an attempt to appease me, a son, first baby I ever held and was allowed to bring home as my own!…. We had those two children with us when my ex-father-in-law told me that I wasn’t a “real” mother….. And my ex-spouse could have said something then, but didn’t to his father –who also didn’t come to the wedding…. Allowed me to be the one responsible…. But by then, we knew! –after visits to so many fertility clinics –he was told that he’d unlikely (not “impossible” as he continued to mention) father a biological child… We tried in vitro fertilization three times ($10,000.00 each attempt, to no avail; just a lot of injections I had to take to ripen eggs sooner, and in a quantity large enough for harvesting. No success. I, of course, was getting older, and by then we lived in Massachusetts…. But not, according to my ex-spouse, “too old” –I could have waited; “all it took was one sperm!” he insisted, and he had at least one as I grew older and older by the minute…. But his few million sperm needed to be healthy, motile and not misshapen, needed to be active and able to penetrate the egg… They couldn’t. Not even in a Pertri dish where the sperm didn’t have to swim very far to get to the egg….

But how could he know this until a partner failed to conceive, failed to become pregnant?

I hesitate to mention it, but that adoption of the niece was disastrous; she was seven, (and biracial, and I thought that this similarity mght prove a useful connection to me, but it didn’t at all) when we adopted her –to keep her in the family; –we were asked if we would take a child, and I said the youngest, knowing the role of age of the child in which interventions are attempted; I thought that we might have a chance with only the youngest; she was seven, beyond the age when influence in our Massachusetts home, wealthy pocket some 23 miles north of Boston could exert significant changes in her and her life, after she accompanied me in my second year of graduate study to Durham New Hampshire, right after she came to live with us, and when she was eight, stole money from the teacher’s purse. January.

It was winter, and NEW HAMPSHIRE SNOW fell prodigiously. Here and there were animal tracks like forks, and hoarfrost patterns on windows that my cheeks tried to pilfer, pressed against these panes. Loved the spray when wind stirred up the powdery snow, twirled it and released it so that it fell again rather lacy. I couldn’t wait to make bootprints. NEW HAMPSHIRE SNOW.

Durham was a wonderful small town, and our niece (so that she’d remain in the family when her mother –whose identical twin also lost custody of her children, for similar reasons of neglect– lost custody and the children were removed from the home) was there stealing money. I read to her daily, and she performed okay in the Oyster River Schools (other than stealing the money)… What a change this way of life was for her; I’ll have to ask her (though we’re not in touch; felt it best to break connections, so that I can finally begin my life) how it felt to live in New Hampshire…. What did she think of the mountains? of Franconia Notch, and the Old Man of the Mountain? Did this environment have the effect on her life that I’d hoped it would? What was it like for her to live on a college campus? –to eat in the dining hall? –to watch me study and also teach? (I was a TA). She moved with us, of course to Andover Massachusetts where I worked at Phillips Academy right after grad school –that’s when problems really escalated…. she discovered boys –started staying out all night with them –but couldn’t take advantage of the tuition reduction! –we would only have had to pay 10% of tuition [10% of about $20,000.00] had she been able scholastically, intellectually, and emotionally to attend PA –however, having missed those first eight (including nine months of pregnancy, so roughly another year), meant that any influence of these new –and wealthy!– PA environments didn’t change her enough to allow her to take advantage of all that the northern Massachusetts setting had to offer….

She was twelve when she started running away…. and twelve when police brought her back. She began running away every weekend, and I resorted to locking the door to her room to try to keep her there, but that proved ineffective as she climbed out the window in order to run away! –initially from Andover, Massachusetts to Lawrence, Massachusetts; this occurred for years! –until she was 17, when she ran away for the last time, back to the state in which she’d lived before the attempted rescue via adoption! –I grew weary of all this running away! –quite a paper trail evolved! –a each time the police became involved, a record was kept! –I’d never been involved with the police! –they became like members of the family! –when she ran away for what was the last time, she told authorities in that mid-western state that we’d put her out, but this wasn’t true, of course (she was also a pathological liar, and had been for years); by then; had to hire a lawyer in the state to which she ran, but we had extensive documentation, from the police, and this lawyer said that he’d never seen documentation as extensive as what I had, so when he presented this evidence in court, the judge was impressed, and rescinded the adoption! I couldn’t travel because I was pregnant –after my ex-spouse announced that if he couldn’t have children, then neither could I! –I was almost thirty-seven and nearing an age when it wouldn’t be optimal for my body to try to sustain a pregnancy; fertility would decline, and I also knew that I could get pregnant, so for a full year before executing my plan I prepared my body for a new life! –I was ready, no longer a teenager, and quite accomplished, having published several volumes of poetry and having won several awards, which PA didn’t require, but the private high school had only minors attending, including the son of Dick Gregory (Yohance Gregory), Patrick Kennedy, younger half-brother of Sade –Soji Adu, and a Kuwaiti Princess (Sharifa Al-Homaizi) (she donated $20,000.00 to the school in my name) whose parents sent her to PA to escape the war in Kuwait, and the age of these minors, meant that they required 24/7 care, and the “best” housing –all provided by PA was in dormitories, so taking a dorm was advised! –if you wanted prime housing, huge houses –head “master” resided in a while mansion in the center of campus –and we slaves resided in lesser accommodations

–while I was at PA, my final year there, I had six job offers to six different universities, including the University of New Hampshire where I’d been a graduate student… This seemed extraordinary to me! One job offer came from the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, an offer I accepted, after the contract was re-written to give my then spouse a job, as I refused to come unless he was also employed, so a job was “created” for him! –I spoke up, although he didn’t as we stood on that porch….

I had to delay my start at the University of Michigan because I was pregnant, and there was no problem with the delay… As I said earlier, I became concerned when my then-spouse announced that if he couldn’t have children, then neither could I! As I lived only about 23 miles north of Boston/Cambridge, and as I’d prepared my body for a pregnancy, I realized I was in an ideal location for a sperm donor: Both Harvard University and MIT! –To appease me, my then spouse agreed that adopting another child, a baby would be fine, and made us equal, as neither one of us would be related to that infant; so that’s what happened…. We adopted a baby, (my ex’s idea) a healthy baby from Massachusetts, the other child that my ex-spouse’s father referred to when he announced that I wasn’t a “real” mother…

–If other players here tell this story, they can’t possibly offer MY point of view! –only their own! –which can’t be like mine. This healthy boy has grown into a man, somewhat troubled man (but that’s a different story, and not exactly mine), innocent of al this, which he didn’t even know about -–he was just a baby, and had no input into what was happening…. He didn’t know until he was an adult that he was adopted at all… But this was information he needed to have. He was born to a teenage girl in Boston; she was the age I would have been had I actually had the baby from my first pregnancy from the rape. Perhaps the way I told him he was adopted wasn’t the best way, but he did need to be told, since he hadn’t figured it out. So much deception in this small family… I’m sorry for everything I did wrong… Except for getting pregnant a second time and actually having that baby! –something I had to do, and time was running out. I hope that he understands my situation also… Point of view is about all we have, and this is mine; presented from my perspective –just as valid as any other. I mean no hard feelings for anyone.

But I was as real as anyone!

But I did want to pass on some of the genetic bounty I’d received, in classes for the for the gifted since first grade, the enrichment program, initially, then major work for the “super-gifted” (4th grade – 12th grade; for which I had to be sent for testing by staff psychologists), –the only way to pass along these intellectual gifts was to have a biological child! –and my father was a mixed race man, mostly Cherokee , Caucasian and some East Indian (as I’ve been told) –I wanted to pass on that heritage also! he died in 1980, the year before I graduated first in my class and Phi Beta Kappa from Oberlin! –graduated with a 4.11 GPA, lowest grade was in an English class, an “A-”, so I took English to be my relative weakness; only class in which I didn’t attain a ceiling; in every other class, I met expectations, so I focused on English in graduate school…. and filled the space that the “-” created with “limited fork theory”! –how I made “senses” of existences! and (ultimately) movie poams –including: Particle Popping and Digging on the Muon Blues

And I was getting older; I didn’t have much time left! –I was 36, and my eggs were getting older by the minute, and I didn’t want to risk having a child that suffered because of advanced maternal age… I had to act quickly, despite the edict from my ex-spouse that: “IF I CAN’T HAVE A CHILD, THEN NEITHER CAN YOU!” –I had to act or pregnancy never would have happened; would have been an extinction (there will be anyway; humans won’t always be around –and the world keeps changing, pollution and so forth –human aggression, and perhaps another mass extinction via comet?–unless we destroy ourselves)

Egg quality matters!

But first, I had to be raped, and I had to have a third-trimester abortion, and I had to get married, and I had to adopt children, and I had to become pregnant by choice, going to a fertility clinic in Cambridge, Massachusetts, after being told that if my then-spouse couldn’t have children, then neither could I, but I also had a need to pass on some of what I considered genetic bounty, and my father (source) was already dead! –I could only pass on some of what I’d received if I had a baby myself! –and I was ready! — my body was optimized for pregnancy! –and most sperm donors are college students, and being near –23 miles!– Harvard Square put me right by Harvard university and MIT! (most sperm donors are college students, so my location was ideal! –for this indiscretion, that gave me what I almost didn’t get to have)–how ideal! –I left the clinic in Cambridge pregnant!


first picture of Ansted
–one visit! –I was told that a “good” sample made an enormous difference! –I was there only about a half hour; in my mind, I think that conception happened as I drove home and began a routine of talking to my baby, singing to my baby, reading everything, in multiple languages to my baby! –English, Spanish, and French! –eating mostly fish and uncooked vegetables from Bread and Circus! –playing a variety of music for my baby!

My son is a member of Mensa! –I’m very pleased! –he’s as perfect as he can be!

–as all of us are!

–how different this was from when I was fifteen!


Everything was fine! –pregnancy was going smoothly! –I loved every minute!

Then I started having preterm labor! (for which I was given Brethine, form of Terbutaline –so successful that my baby was born two weeks late; two nights before his birth, I ate at Legal Seafoods, Arctic char, and plenty of vegetables, large salad –undressed) so was put on complete bed rest for the preterm labor, and a bill form the fertility clinic came to our Andover, Massachusetts home, a bill they my then spouse brought in and discovered that he wasn’t the biological father of my unborn child…. All he said to me was: “Didn’t I consider AIDS?” –I had more chance of contracting AIDS from him (just a bit of a philanderer) than I had from the fertility clinic, as donors are very well screened! –certified free of disease and genetic disorder! –well-scrutinized! –so my ex-spouse always knew that he wasn’t the biological father, and I had the baby I wanted to have….

A tasty meal indeed!


Of course I was in love (eventually; fluctuated
between love of my captor
guess I really don’t know what “true love” is like.
Maybe I’ll find out now;
first time that I’ll really choose a man
instead of a man choosing himself for me….
–I’d never been with a man –other than the rapist
(and I was with a statutory rapist,
from the fire into the frying pan).
Everything was new to me, especially touching.
I did like that,
liked to touch my then husband and to be touched back…

Took me a long time, to reach that point, but I did reach it.
My ex-spouse was quite popular
when he was in the military and had at least 50 girlfriends.
When I was 17, still a baby, and a “victim” of statutory rape,
I tore up all their pictures
(I wouldn’t do that now –it’s just that he seemed so proud
of them,
but since he had me,
I reasoned that he didn’t need them,
a childish thing to do –he was even engaged to one of them).
He seemed to prefer lighter complexioned mixed women,
(mixed-race women
–like me)
and women seemed to like him also…
quite a bit.
That’s what made it so puzzling when I found out two weeks
after the wedding
–we were already “legally” married, had been so
for almost two months –so technically, this was adultery;
but two weeks after the wedding,
I discovered he’d been having an affair for nearly two years,
with someone much more dark-complexioned than me,
someone I didn’t think he’d ever marry
–of course not, he married me!
–someone not his type, based on appearance, just someone to f**k,
and not bring home,
exclusively in the dark –I guess so they’d both blend in!
(how cruel of me to say, as if this still bothers me)
–I discovered this affair quite innocently;
I’d called him to invite him home for lunch,
and he wasn’t there….

He’d gone to see her, meeting her at the door,
where she was dressed only in birth control
–that she didn’t know she didn’t need– lunch of sex!
–that’s also why I was inviting him home for lunch!

–I really had prepared some food,
then I was going to feed him something else,
even more substantial, lasting on all of his palettes…
(except the one for paramours…)

–but I was ready when he came home with his grandfather!
–I confronted him with evidence, letters from this Island girl
–her promises of undying love!
That Island Girl.. That Island Girl also…
mistress from the West Indies, but quite Africanized)
–as typically used, even if incorrectly
–I’m guilty of incorrect (popular) usage also.
And her signed photo, with messages of undying love
written on the back,
her promise that she’d always be available (not true;
she’s moved on with her life, and is no longer available
to him
–not that he’s looking for her or for anyone)
would always love him [recently found her on Facebook,
and didn’t friend her,
but told her–in a private message– I had no hard feelings…

(guess I was just wondering how she looked now,
and what a confirmation I received….
[ouch! --of my own looks] –she’s even less his type now….
–well, he didn’t frame her picture [I didn't tear up this one]
or leave it sitting out in the open –I really had to dig
to find it!)
She was more than willing to offer herself
exclusively for sex…
(not really trying to rationalize all this; just want some
as I move on, and I am moving on…
Post-menopausal, so no more biological babies for me.
I mean no harm to my adopted children, both now adults
and as happy as they can be, I both hope and assume;
I’m utof contact with them, and
tey belong to part of my life behind me now
–as it should be– as happy as they can be
Under these strained circumstances.

Truth, from my perspective, isn’t necessarily pretty,
but it is some truth!
–I owe all of us some truth!

More truth:
Pity that I couldn’t give my biological son a sibling;
no way could I repeat
what I did in order to have him…
No idea how many siblings he might have from the donor….
Sure that all of this has wrecked his sense of family….

None of us are perfect! Well,
all of us are are “perfectly” what we are…
–I’m sure that my biological and adopted children
have things they’d change about themselves if they could….
when they can: we’re all in progress,
not finished as long as we live, and even then,
disintegrate, decompose
becoming feasts for microbes that are making their living,
doing what microbes do… (Yes; I enjoyed CSI, among
other things,
and various books about anatomical fodder –after all,
humans are part of animal systems
on this planet
and are as edible as anything else that is or becomes edible
–there’s much that can be ingested
whether or not it’s nutritious, or even designated as food).

My point here is to talk only about what I’m remembering
and connecting to –temporarily–
none of this is permanent
via, quite fallible, systems of memory….
Mentioning others only as I must.
Just dressing some of my open wounds….
Just being myself,
less restricted than I’ve ever been….
but still within (my) limits which keep shifting
–especially with the MS.


Getting back to a remembering marriage track:
What a fantastic brouhaha!
–when I confronted my ex-spouse!
How dare he do this! –two years of this!
–two years (at least) with the Island Girl
–didn’t matter how “pretty”
I might have been at nineteen! –beautiful bride!

Bride Moxie Supper

Bride Moxie Supper

–I had the ammunition of letters and photo;
she even gave us a wedding present
–don’t remember what it was,
sure my ex-spouse wanted to keep it:
a special memento…
Not to mention tastes of the paramour….
Well, this is what
a real housewife (at the time) had to say!
–I was livid! How dare he do this! two years of this!
Oh, I’m told of how they got together:
she needed a study group;
she required a tutor,
and my then-spouse was so willing to volunteer,
so needful of casting himself as an educator
–as he was for me: gave me a carnal education that my parents
–I was in high school!– knew nothing about!
–Ostensibly, my ex-spouse and his paramour
got together to help her in school;

he could never be of help to me in school;
I needed no assistance with my studies!
–think this bothered him just a bit…. Maybe more..

–he was sexual tutor many years ago,
but not my intellectual tutor or suitor.

–but would I accept this now? No; Hell no!

Then I asked him to leave,
and he met me at the Rapid Transit station
in Higbee’s
every day for two weeks with roses, roses!
–What exceptional roses they had to be!
–olfactory stimulation persuaded me to relent….

I want that perfume now!

and then I relented, welcomed him back home,
and remained married for 40 years.
Win some, lose some, and keep on going!


original post on Moxie

“Remembering” on Moxie

Washington Redskins Defend Name With Help From Native Americans

Originally posted on TIME:

The Washington Redskins premiered a video Monday in which Native Americans explain why they don’t think the team’s hot-button name is offensive.

The video, released by the “Redskins Facts” campaign reportedly funded by the team, features Native Americans from across the country arguing that the moniker is “a powerful name — it’s a warrior’s name.”

This counters the message of a powerful ad paid for by the California tribe Yocha Dehe Wintun Nation during the June NBA Finals called Proud to Be, in which a voiceover said, “Native Americans call themselves many things. The one thing they don’t…” before flashing to an image of a Redskins helmet.

In the Redskins Facts video, Native Americans argue that they have bigger issues to deal with than a football team’s name. “They’ve never asked Native Americans. It’s somebody else who knows nothing about us trying to speak for us, and it’s…

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Listen to Robin Williams Talk About His Struggles on a 2010 Podcast

Originally posted on TIME:

Robin Williams, who died Monday at age 63, opened up about his struggles with addiction and depression on Marc Maron’s WTF Podcast in April of 2010. Following the news of Williams’ passing, Maron once again shared his interview with the comic legend — an interview he said “changed many people’s perception of Robin Williams.”

“What was amazing about Robin Williams is that he has this sort of electric, shining piece of humanity, whose entire life on stage was to entertain thoroughly and with a type of presence that nobody has ever seen before,” Maron said in an emotional new introduction to the interview. “There’s nobody who wasn’t touched by it.”

During the conversation, Williams spoke about his alcoholism and his relapse in the mid-2000s.

“I think it’s trying to fill the hole,” Williams said. “It’s fear, and you’re kind of going, what am I doing in my career? And you…

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Richard Dawkins Remembers Robin Williams’ Poetic Comic Genius

Originally posted on TIME:

I met him only once. It was June 3, 2006, at the Academy of Achievement dinner in Los Angeles. After dinner, at the end of the conference, there was a loud band and dancing (Archbishop Desmond Tutu delightfully prominent among the dancers), and Sheryl Crow was the singer.

Suddenly Robin Williams hurtled unannounced, unrehearsed onto the stage. Sheryl Crow graciously (and with good-natured surprise) gave up the microphone to him and stood by. He treated us to an exuberant impromptu performance, delivering verse reports on most, if not all, of the speeches we had been listening to during the conference. He deftly summarized each of the lectures in a rhyming couplet (sometimes in the special rap sense of rhyming). Then, after stepping back for a few seconds’ thought while the band played on, he would advance to the front of the stage with a new verse about the next lecture…

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Death Toll in Southern China Quake Rises to 589

Verizon: Slowing Data Speeds for Some Users Is Necessary

Originally posted on TIME:

Verizon has defended its policy of slowing data speeds for some users after receiving stinging criticism from the Federal Communications Commission.

After receiving a letter from the FCC condemning the policy last week, the telecom company said slowing speeds—known as “throttling”—for heavy users of unlimited data plans during high traffic periods is necessary to ensure network quality, according to the Wall Street Journal.

The FCC’s letter followed Verizon’s July 25 announcement that under its “network optimization policy,” customers with 4G LTE devices on unlimited data plans who are in the top 5 percent of data users “may experience slower data speeds when using certain high bandwidth applications.”

“It is disturbing to me that Verizon Wireless would base its ‘network management’ on distinctions among its customers’ data plans, rather than on network architecture or technology,” wrote FCC chairman Tom Wheeler. “I know of no past Commission statement that would treat…

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The 9 Circles of Hell for Millennials

Moxie Supper:

Absolutely; whatdiesdoes does doubd tempting! –what a meal and dessert

Originally posted on TIME:

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. This is a dead zone. (Effing AT&T…)
- Dante Alighier-ish

Dante’s Divine Comedy was written in the 14th century with his uber-Catholic, Italian counterparts in mind. While the allegory of the afterlife lives on in modern culture, the Inferno would probably look slightly different were it typed out on an iPad. Behold: The nine circles of hell for the basic millennial:

1. An eternity of online dating

Swipe left. Swipe left. Swipe left.

2. “Fun”-employment
Economy blah blah tough market blah lots of 26-year-olds still live with their parents.

3. Sharing an enclosed space with someone playing Candy Crush with the sound on
No one is celebrating you advancement to level 147. HEADPHONES.

4. Trying to cancel your cable
“You don’t want something…

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Doing This on Social Networks Could Cost You a Job

Moxie Supper:

Pays to use the right wirfs

Originally posted on TIME:

With his Blurred Lines parody, Weird Al is onto something: America’s grammar stinks. And there’s strong evidence that it’s so bad, it’s costing us jobs. A new survey from CareerBuilder finds that about a third of HR managers say they’ve taken an applicant out of consideration because of “poor communication skills” on social media.

Yes, people know by now that posting pictures of them funneling beer or making racist jokes on Facebook will probably take them out of the running, but even the types of grammar errors Weird Al is skewering can be enough to cost somebody a job.

CareerBuilder says a third of the roughly 70% of HR managers who use social media to check out candidates have dropped them from consideration because of “poor communication skills.”

More than nine out of 10 HR professionals say they see poor communication displayed on candidates’ pages, says Susan Vitale, chief…

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After MH17 Ukraine Crash, Global AIDS Researchers Mourn Lost Colleagues

Moxie Supper:

How devastating in so many ways. Hate to eat this, but “life” has served it up, but I’m not sure how to clean my plate…

Originally posted on TIME:

There was a pall over the 20th annual International AIDS Conference in Melbourne even before the crash of Flight MH17 in eastern Ukraine, which killed an estimated 100 delegates who were en route to the meeting.

In the past couple of years the vibrant showcase event—part serious science, part activist networking and carnivalhas been headily optimistic, as HIV treatments improved and the possibility of a cure no longer seemed so far off. “The mood is always an important part,” says Professor Mike Toole, an international communicable diseases veteran with Melbourne’s Burnet Institute who has been at the HIV/AIDS front line since the pandemic began some 30 years ago.

Toole remembers that the landmark Durban International AIDS Conference back in 2000 demonstrated to this eclectic crowd—a disparate crew of laboratory researchers, front-line health workers, activists and people living with the infection—their powerful potential. It was in Durban that…

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