For the Snowflake Generation. Safe spaces music, complete with trigger warnings just in case the safe spaces aren’t safe enough or boringly treacly banal enough.

For Nth wave feminists who want the government to buy their tampons but don’t necessarily want to wear them because bloody pant crotches are so cool.

[Trigger Warnings. Metro guys might be micro-aggressed because their periods aren’t very, you know, red.]

For all the college kids who’d really rather die than live. Farewell is a cool thing to say.

[Trigger Warnings. Guy has a voice like a doomy foghorn. But dying is what you’re really after, right? Right?]

Kenny G. For every tone deaf college kid who thinks jazz is about playing scales in a melancholic way.

[Trigger Warnings. He is, after all, a White. Man. No matter how soothing and friendly his lazy saxophone sounds, he is guilty of cultural appropriation. Maybe we should shoot him.]

Lack of content, passion, and sex appeal are prime ingredients of safe spaces. Karen Carpenter had all of these until she died not so suddenly from not eating anything. Bask with her in the nirvana of no microaggressions.

[Trigger Warnings. Well, look at that dress. Yes, she defeated the rape culture, but what part of no slut-shaming did she miss? You’re supposed to be completely naked and still impervious to the patriarchal rape culture, even if she can sing you into a kind of stupid female trance.]

Joni Mitchell. Once a feminist icon. Used to hear her echoing through the corridors of Josselyn Hall at Vassar, where all the drab feminists were studying themselves. It should be a safe place for the college students who were once decidedly female, with breasts and vaginas and such. The, you know, neo-reactionary feminists who think vaginas matter.

[Trigger Warnings. This Mitchell bitch has to be put down, dontcha know. She thinks gender is about “both sides now,”not the multitudinumerareous sides there so obviously are these days. If I want to put on a skirt and watch you pee, who are you to stop me? Death to Mitchell and her bilateral sexuality.]

No Trigger Warnings for this one. It has absolutely no content, musical quality or intrinsic worth. It’s as much a piece of junk as a standard issue millennial brain.

No Trigger Warnings for this one either. It has absolutely no content, musical quality or intrinsic worth. It’s as much a piece of junk as a standard issue millennial brain.

Remember Lauren Bacall in Key Largo? “You know how to whistle don’t you? Just put your lips together and blow.” What Zampir knows how to do. Very easy listening.

[Trigger Warnings. Lauren Bacall. All that blowing. Reminds us of rape culture. Unless it reminds us of bad infomercials wanting $19.95 for Zampir cassettes. Whatever.]

Pure dreck of the sort that makes safe spaces safe. Zone out and pretend that YOUR life matters. (It doesn’t.)

[Trigger Warnings. If I have to tell you, you don’t even know a trigger from a dewy multi-petaled flower. You’re porn sick and you know it from the first rose on. Rapist.]

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=bMvqPffzDMQ

Scourge yourself from the taint of sexual desire, evil males. It this doesn’t make your space safe, there is no hope for you.

Your last, best, safe place. The dead zone of the human mind. Go here and you will never have to return.

Unless there be life and a heart in you, you damaged babies. You hide and cringe and carry on like infants. Here’s what WE were doing half a century ago. So get the hell off our tits and go to work.