So, someone claiming to be Sherry Glaser‘s daughter (I can’t speak to whether or not that claim is truthful, but it’s someone called Lucy Love) sent me a message on my MySpace. Apparently, she doesn’t like me much… (language warning!)

You stupid son of a bitch!!!!! I f*cking hate your motherf*cking dumb ass face!!!!! Get a new face BITCH!!!!!!!!!! You don’t know my mom (Sherry Glaser) and don’t be talking shit about someone you don’t know!!!!! We all know your jealous because she has bigger cha-cha’s and gets fame from it!!!! At least shes doing something right for the world!!!!!!! And she can show off her triple D tits!! What the hell are you doing? Probably sitting on your f*cking fat ass at home!!!! So shut the f*ck up! Just because not everyone in the world is like you, doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with them! And if you have a problem with her or me, f*cking sit on it and twist hoe!

The only thing I’ve ever written about Sherry Glaser was, in my opinion, pretty accurate. I wrote about moonbats, including Ms. Glaser, from Code Pink and Breasts Not Bombs (Ms. Glaser’s organization) infiltrating a Hillary Clinton fundraiser, topless and chanting. I quoted an article she wrote, which was amusing, to say the least:

A couple of weeks ago Breasts Not Bombs staged a demonstration outside the Military recruitment center in Ukiah, California because we feel that office is the first introduction to our young men and women as to what it means to be a soldier. We felt the need to find the root and address the aberrant and excessive violence that has led our military to commit war crimes like rape and murder. Though there were ten of us on the street that day, we opted not to take our shirts off. We blamed it on the weather and well, it was a major street and we had concern about traffic. But the truth is I was afraid. Afraid to bare my breasts to again be subject to judgement and ridicule for my outrageous behavior and my bountiful bosom. Although it was a spirited and well supported action, It felt disappointing. We even took the opportunity to go into the recruitment office and converse with the Sergeant in charge. Although he could not take responsibility for the troops run amok or even point me in the direction of those who might be, besides a “few bad apples.” It felt like we built a bridge. He could see our humanity and we could see his. We were civil, kind and very calm. But, inside I’m bursting with terrible rage and sorrow. It’s so strong that I’m compelled to tear off my shirt, pull out my hair and weep. Yes, it’s dramatic, but it feels like this really is an emergency. I mean why is so unacceptable to bare my breasts. Why does the public at large have such a definitive and immediate reaction to my flesh, but the death of 2,900 American Soldiers and upwards of 200,000 Iraqi’s elicits little response. Every day that our government debates and hem and haws there are REAL PEOPLE being violently killed.

What keeps me under wraps is also the simple size of my breasts, how they look. They are enormous, yes. It feels like I am carrying the sorrow of the world right under my nose. I wonder if so much of the breast cancer we are seeing is the unexpressed grief of this world. I dream of weeping, bare breasted with a million other women on the White House Lawn. I long for a world wide weep. Why are women kept in such restraint. What is so scary about our breasts.

Interesting. According to this woman, she’s strutting around topless because our troops are raping and murdering innocent civilians, and then a few sentences later she expresses grief for these rapists and murderers? Um… that makes sense, I guess.

She also can’t seem to understand why it is that the sight of her breasts get people so riled up and offended. Well, here’s Ms. Glaser topless. Decide for yourself how you feel about it:

As I said,

Look, lady, it isn’t like Anna Kournikova or Jessica Alba is standing there with their tops off. No offense, but there is no one that wants to see your breasts! No one! You aren’t a spring chicken anymore. It isn’t all women’s breasts that are scary, just yours.

…

I just don’t get it, what is it that makes people take her seriously?! And she cries about how terrified she is of baring her gigantic, droopy breasts, but she does it… all the time. Whenever she has the opportunity to, actually. Yeah, she’s terrified, all right.

And now, almost a year later, I’m getting a profanity-laced e-mail from someone who is purporting to be her daughter. I do know that Ms. Glaser has supposedly brought along her daughters on her breast-baring sprees (this is according to Wikipedia, so who knows if that’s true or not, though).

The e-mail I got from this Lucy, though, certainly leads me to believe that whoever sent it is drinking the Glaser Kool-Aid. So, to Lucy: here’s my advice to you, my response to your message. I’ll try to keep it civilized, even though you apparently cannot.

If you hate my face, then don’t look at it. You aren’t required to look at this blog, just like I’m not required to look at Ms. Glaser’s breasts (and I try very hard not to). Her breasts may be bigger than mine, but I’d wager that mine are much nicer — after all, I can’t tuck mine into my belt, so that’s a plus. I’ve already covered the fat subject, so we don’t need to discuss that one. I’d suggest that if Ms. Glaser doesn’t like people criticizing her message or her breasts, then I’d advise her to keep her message and her breasts to herself. I can’t say that I much agree that Ms. Glaser is doing much that’s right for the world, but to each their own.

Your e-mail seems to indicate some severe insecurities about Ms. Glaser and her activities, thus the profanity-laced message lashing out at me. I mean, come on — sit on it and twist? Grow up, honey. If you have an intelligent critique of me, or would like to have an adult discussion, then I’d be more than happy to do that. But as it seems you aren’t able to do that, then please feel free to not worry about me, and what I write. I can promise you that I won’t worry about you after I hit the publish button.

Have a great one!
Cassy

UPDATE:
I removed the link to Lucy’s MySpace. I didn’t get any messages that anyone was harassing her, and I don’t think anyone was. I just thought after the fact that it would be better to not have the link. I’d rather not take the risk. Anyone who does have the link, please do not contact Lucy.
Thanks,
Cassy