Jody Allard

There was another school shooting yesterday and 10 people are dead.

"It's simple, really. If you can muddy the waters enough, and espouse concern for the rights of those poor defenseless embryos enough, what should be a simple statement about the rights of women to make choices for their own bodies becomes, instead, a convoluted argument around viability and fetal stages that puts the presumed "rights" of fetuses on an equal footing with the actual rights of adult women."

He characterized the "serious problem" with domestic violence as a failure by the couples to have "a true marriage" and attacked the politicians who support what he termed "quickie divorces" (you know, the ones that save battered women's lives).

Cities throughout the world honored the victims of the Paris attacks over the weekend with flags lowered to half staff, buildings lit up in the colors of the French flag, and candlelight vigils and moments of silence held in their honor.

What I do know is what it is like to be the wife of an addict, and those years taught me to claim responsibility for addictions that aren't my own. Thankfully, while that is still my first instinct, I have come far enough now to pause and remind myself that I am no one's caretaker. I am not responsible for my ex-husband's addiction, and I am certainly not responsible for Macklemore's.

When Belgian police asked for a social media blackout of their anti-terrorist operations over the weekend, they got what they wanted in the most Internet way possible –– the hashtag #BrusselsLockdown was quickly taken over by cat pictures.

Former Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver frontman Scott Weiland died yesterday, and with his death I've come to two unfortunate conclusions: 1.) Addiction is a bitch, and 2.) The 90s are officially dead.

If you don't know who the Holderness family is and have somehow managed to miss their series of painfully awkward viral videos, congratulations! You haven't missed much.

Nothing says "Peace On Earth" like women bound and gagged, am I right? Believe it or not, that's exactly the premise behind a family's Christmas card gone horribly awry.

You can stop talking now. Ssshhhh.