When Women Are Victimized and Misogyny.

You know,  I am sick of this.  I am sick of there being a problem and then swept under the rug.   Case #1 ,  another alleged sexual assault at a North Carolina University.   That place of higher education,  has recorded yet another case of REPORTED sexual assault AND it was at a school atop of reported events!

The ‘body of work’,   both rhetorical and actual,  perpetuate misogyny.   And then the sentences are a joke.  The latest perp, is an athlete.   I know,  I know,  who’d have expected that, right?

And this,  coming upon the heals of two major stories at Vanderbilt and Stanford respectively..    The Vanderbilt case,  is especially heinous,  as it IS a hate crime.  And after the raping,  he asserted to the victim,  that slavery is an alibi, 400 years of slavery that is.

It gets worse.   He then urinated upon the co-ed. With these extenuating circumstances,  he gets 15 years!   It seemed as this judge was more concerned, with the rapist’s prospects after release than the horror and degradation of the poor victim.  And you know that he will get leeway and an early termination of incarceration!

His name,   by the way.  Cory Baty.  The Judge:   Monte Watkins..   Be sure to comment or send an email to that Judge.  (POS).

Case Two:   A miserable POS (http://www.cnn.com/2016/06/06/us/sexual-assault-brock-turner-stanford/)

Listen to the account of the Victim!   This is heart-breaking!

Stanford rape survivor’s letter to her attacker 03:56

(CNN)Widespread outrage has erupted over a California judge’s decision to give a former Stanford University swimmer a six-month jail sentence for sexually assaulting an unconscious woman. Critics are blasting the decision as far too lenient.

I will let you listen to her story.  I am shaking mad,  even still.   Sad to be male and that I might make her fearful of me.   Even so,  it is important to internalize this!  six months to 90 days?!   Brock,  screw your dad and yourself!    And then ‘daddy pooh’ is all supportive! Screw him as well.   He stated that his son will be hurt for 20 minutes of bad behavior. Look at what your’ son did.    He can never repay that debt. Ever!!

But in a statement on Monday, Rosen stopped short of calling for Persky’s ouster.
“While I strongly disagree with the sentence that Judge Persky issued in the Brock Turner case, I do not believe he should be removed from his judgeship,” Rosen said. “I am so pleased that the victim’s powerful and true statements about the devastation of campus sexual assault are being heard across our nation. She has given voice to thousands of sexual assault survivors.”
CNN calls to Turner’s defense attorney, Mike Armstrong, were not returned Monday.

In another semi-related event.   This happened back a few years ago.   But injustice,  misogyny and ambivalence coalesce into a dirge of acrimony.  A woman who faced a trial,  re-raped in court,  and with a long comment by her,  that went unheeded.

As to the case, of a truant girl,  I sit here in apoplexy.   Make an example of an innocent girl.   But I will let you take this in.

 

So,  let me think,  Diane was being a good girl and yet had to face this, as a responsible young adult and under stress.     Ok, she got a respite with all those donations.

 

 

 

 

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Misogyny 101. Rape is Rape

RAPE IS RAPE. Calling it a date-rape, suggests that women, asked for it. This kind of rape is done in a different fashion, but is still what it is…RAPE. The suggestion is that she was drugged, meaning she DID NOT consent! She WAS, er RAPED.

If these RAPES were reported, then another battle happens. The rape kit, the police interview and last but not least, she is pilloried by defense attorneys and has to face the RAPIST. Not to mention the line-up!

Now, the accused RAPIST doesn’t have to prove anything and chuckles as the girl/woman has her entired life affected. She find it IS impossible to live her life. Every unexpected noise, becomes a panic attack. Some hate men and others are forced to watch the accused, either get an aquittal or see him get releasd on bail.

From discovery to an actual trial (if it gets that far), she is poisoned by possible malfeasence and the RAPEE facing intimidation and her own credibility almost ruined. Guys who think, she is easy! What a burden to bear!

Nasty signs are depicting College Women as fresh meat!

Now, there is the college issue!!! There are thousands of RAPES that ARE NOT reported, for the reasons enumerated above. Even more shocking are these hundreds of RAPES, that are NOT reported! The denials of those RAPES are DENIED by College Schools and Universes.

Why? Largely sports-related. As smarmy as this is, some of the refusals and intimidation are by WOMEN! How freaking apalling!! Of all things!! Throwing a RAPEE under the bus! Women as Misogynists, de facto RAPISTS.

And for what? A serial RAPIST! A football or basketball who is basically worshipped. In their recruiting process, the Blue Chip players, recieve HUNDREDS, if not thousands of letters, asking them to play sports.

And some of serial rapists and some of these recruiters ignore their violent tendencies. And it is NOT just athletics, some COEDS are themselves serial RAPISTS. And the motivation is: the school’s reputation! Some Dad’s apple grows horns and some of them, the apple of other their dad’s eyes are emotionally and physically eviscerated.

There is a great documentary ‘Hunting Grounds’ that does more than I can do, in revealing these shocking revelations. I will let you see something, that will PISS you off, I guarantee it!

One other issue is, I had to unfriend a blogger here, because she thought that men can offer nothing to the debate. Oh well! I have sisters, mothers, aunts, a girlfriend (sometimes) cousins, friends and women at large. Being a victim sexual assault, I have more than a right to opine.

As a sidebar, this movie as a two-star movie. Hell, I wonder why?

With 40,000 rape kits un-analyzed, many women give up.

Afterall, RAPE IS RAPE!

Jaded and Lonely

Someone’s Slave?

Kathleen entered the room.  A sense of dread is now pervading her thoughts.  Finally,  when M,aster Carl looks at her,  there is no real recognition, just a look of loathing.   Immediately,  she is lost.  Time stalls. Afraid to comment she waits for an answer,  anything remotely resembling clarification.   

He says she needs to go,  that she is a slave with no alternatives,  no expectations,  just a tired look of contempt.   She takes what little she has. Penniless and jaded, she walks the streets, head down from conditioning, a caldera of loneliness.

 

 

Her social deficits and homelessness weigh heavily upon her mind. At a loss, she sees herself as a peripheral player, as a person acclimated to punishment prostituted and jeered at, at sex parties,  as Carl looks at her derisively.   Suddenly she realizes that she is broken to the point where she feels like a dumpster.  Human but only marginally so.   

One alternative and only one,  with no person to talk to.  Bubbles swell in a dead pool, of foolish expectations, convinced her man in black,  is a fraud.   This she floats in a river going nowhere.  Marked with lashes and the taste of cum,  her fate was scripted, from the start.

images (5)

I’m a snitch, I am a thief

I love to give you grief…

I ate the squirrel today

And it tasted really great.

 

I know and I can’t change

Tossed salad’s not for me.

CAT and water

 

You looked at me and saw

So innocent and purring

Adorable and all.

 

Yesterday I hissed

Must’ve wondered you missed.

Was that a tear up in my eye.

 

 

So eat your veggie burger’s

I like meat and all that stuff.

Lean Cuisine is so nasty

It tastes like moldy rust.

 

 

I’m a cat,  I’m a glutton,

I’m in your wine and in your dinner

I’m a beggar,  I’m a thief.

You cannot catch me.

 Cat eating cartoon

I am in your nightmares,

Under your big soft couch,

Scratching your bed.

It’s my face that you dread.

 

I ate your plant and stole your covers

And got litter on the floor

And then you swept me up,

Along with it, out the back door.

 

I climbed into the chimney,

Used the soot for camo,

Then I sneezed in your direction

And started laughing all the more.

I'd lol

 

I’m a cat,  I’m a glutton

 ate your dinner, ate your cake.

Now what else can I eat?

I know I am a pain

But you like it that way,

And I will be back after I sleep

and eat again.

She Fell in Love. Can’t be help responsible!

Back in 1974,  I was a kid,   only 18 years and probably was witness in some way to a date rape.   It sure felt like it because as I was leaving out the dorm that night,  guys were pulling a train on a teen girl and some guy asked me if I wanted to have ‘some.’   I said, “no.”   And besides,  the choice of words haunts me too as well as the whimpering that went along with her disorientation.

I was so naive but a part of my soul has been tortured to this very day.   If I knew then what I know now,   I might have gone postal because I cannot imagine a crime worse than that.     You see,   she was drunk and whimpering.   Damnit.   That really pisses me off.  No girl asks for ‘it.’   Not for that.

 

But date rape characterizations are nothing new and for the longest time just generally accepted.   In the movie ‘Animal House’  the guy was contemplating having sex with a passed out underage girl.    Did she ask for it?  NO! Does it happen?   Hell ya!   Is it any wonder so many women want to spread the pain around.

Going a few years into my adult life,   I had a girl friend and she was given a roofie.    The net effect according to her,  was she never felt the same about anything!    Date-raped by her boss at the mall.   She and I went through hell afterwards and my anger @ jerkoffs intensifies.    My girlfriend was only pieces of ceramic,   like Humpty-Dumpty,  those pieces can’t always be fixed.

I suffer too,  knowing that seedy men with seditious desires lay in wait,   like Jack The Ripper or the Boston Strangler.   In these instances the pain is far worse than death.    It is a slow blood-letting of one’s spirit and sense of control.    We had great times and every once in awhile we would talk.

From her bosses abuse of her,  of us really,   she went on a self-destructive binge with an older guy who was a criminal.   Arrested for a crack ball and spending time in prison,   he seemed to like finding young victims.   Her sister said he liked to read magazines like ‘Barely Legal’ and ’18’.      Yeah one of those!    One day her sister gave me a journal she had written and she had talked to her sister about the parasite she was with and how she missed me and my steady decisions and what would I do in a particular situation.   She said I am the guy that returns the shopping cart.    For awhile I was miffed by that but then got the gist of what she was trying to express.     She also got a disease from this miscreant,   Herpes!

(She fell in love in the first place)))

For some reason these words tick me off.    An otherwise innocent girl and not perfect by any  means,   paid the price for both of you and you both should be ashamed.     And I harbor guilt for not being able to protect her from the smarmy underbelly of the beast that lurks with a touch of wind and a wiff of illicit drugs.

If her mom had not been a prostitute and subjected her to so much,   she might have been able to cry on her shoulders.    She could have  told her Mom what he said and did  and your Mom would turn away.   Flushed with anger and disappointment,  words she heard once upon a time. Now reverberating like a song that plays over and over on a music box.   The ballerina fell suddenly and her porcelain dreams laid like a million shards of what ifs.

So let’s examine some of the dubious comments made by men and boys and mostly they are one and the same.     Your high school heroes and high society icons flickered as capriciously as the stories of high school football players and date rapes.   The bottom-line being the reputation of the boys and a girl who was allegedly asking for it.    She was collateral damage in the game of cat and mouse.

He gave you wine or drugs and told you it was okay.    He promised you everything to dance in the sheets and tomorrow he denies that he even knew you or the things you said,  you couldn’t have meant,  if you did say them….

Their friends and influences probably had mixed emotions about the destruction,   from the boss to the drug abusing narcissist whose real romance is a synthetic cesspool of misery.   Both now share in a common malady with excuses and no care for the damage they were doing.

What once was a fairy tale happiness transmogrified into a hellish world of missed chances.   Where lightning does strike over and over again(in the same place) and the pain still flows,  if even now to more or less a trickle.     In the video above  Boy Meets Girl they dance and sing with a love that we all want and yet finally,  even they play a requiem to a love gone strange.     To me,   as I worked in the media in Tampa,   the song was a fresh time.   A promise.   Together with Paula Abdul’s ‘Straight up’,  it seemed life had spectacular promise,  even after a lost preemie and the mother who ran off for a decade and a half with our daughter.

But life has second chances even if those chances require some modifications to retrofit them to make them work.    I do remember what my daughter said about her 16th birthday and how much she loved me.   That that was her best birthday ever.   This after being lost to me from her early post natal days to about fifteen years later.    Still,   I would NOT change things too much because what if we never rediscovered that and that is why the blog about ‘Ten Years a Single Mother’  and her kids love for her touches my heart.   Kids get the connections and their love is pure if they are loved.

The theme of this entire post is what are we going to do.    Rather than just complain about the pain,  how can we fix a thing?   You,   I and many others have lived on both sides of the track and nothing……  nothing gets fixed by complaining.    We need to put people first because a warm place and a hot dinner matters.

To the abuse of women,  children and the vulnerable,   you and I can change the world.    I have a few things going now.    One is to get Emotional Support Animals and Service Pets for people who need them.    Let’s teach men and society in general how to treat a lady and your kids.    We need to focus on identifying potential abuse and treat the family not a case number but take care of it as a village.  With compassion.    No tolerance policies does not heal a family.    Making rules is what politicians do.   Why do we punish people like Aileen Wuornos the way we do?   Why not find out where at-risk people are and help?   That gives us all a better chance of surviving the obstacles in life.

From murderers to offenders of all kinds,   punishment is the easy part,   preventing tragedies can happen and should happen.    That takes  more than a Breathalyzer and seeing if you can walk a straight line.    How much better will this world be with solutions and not grandstanding politicians and other nabobs using the moment for  personal gain.

Education is the key to everything.   Not just laws but helping people be better people.    Not projecting how good we are,  but how good we can all be,  if we just try.   Ghettos are going nowhere and neither are the homeless,  the drug users and other kinds of abusers.   Let’s get this done and stop maligning others.    The old speck and the log thing.

 

 

Stormy Heart Serenade – Damages

My dream –  25 January 2015

quote-thou-art-slave-to-fate-chance-kings-and-desperate-men-john-donne-305118

Bunker

The day was one of those humid but unremarkable days with the exception of a forecast that included inclement weather.

I was standing outside a warehouse with three friends and we were discussing the forecast with the sunny blue skies and a light wind.  I gave my take on the situation being a Meteorologist.   In effect saying,  You cannot tell by the clear skies what’s going to happen during the afternoon and early evening”.

Sure to form by late morning the first little towers of cotton seemed to gather as the heat poured energy from below.  Like a pot of boiling water the change became more noticeable as the air liquefied into mad rivulets of upward vertical motion.

Marci told me that she needed to get out of the bamy skies as the humidity hung like a soggy blanket,  making the hot more miserable.

We found our way into an empty warehouse,  where we found a fairly sturdy set of walls and a heavy steel door.   Apparently,  we weren’t the only ones with that idea.   The fact it was ventilated made it a prime place to hide.

TS2Roll Cloud

The room was not really that spacious so one got the feeling of being like an animal caught in a snare.  Claustrophobia seemed to seize us both at the same time and we left the relative safety for the open air and a less confined place.

The wind began to swirl with a passion as the heat climbed up towards the fast growing clouds.  In the distance were lines of Cumulonimbus Clouds.   Like a gathering army of angry and mischievous Gremlins. By late afternoon,  the ominous looking clouds fattened with sharp spikes of light shooting out in all directions with the accompanying claps of thunder and their reverberations.  The party was getting into full swing.

From an office you could see lines of storms systems.  These Mesoscale systems snarled and marched onward with high winds and low pressure that popped your ears and engendered a primal fear.  Soon sirens blared as the culmination of physics manifested in an eerie calm.     Bluish black clouds ragged with pent up rage acquiesced to nothing.

Buildings shook as they do when heavy ordnance releases it’s fury.   With the rise in air currents came the chattering of old roof tops that graced structures with uncertainty,  threatened to be peeled back or just collapsing with fatigue.  We saw a woman on a phone as the curtain of night started to drape itself about and the luminous light and sound show intensified bringing an increased sense of dread.

wareUK ware

We wandered about and around the phone lady and soon she feel self aware and struck out to find another place. Marci and I,  decided to hole up in this semi-private space,  waiting for the current round of chaos to abate.         The last round of storms left us shaking.   To the left of us was a window which was heavily armored and I assured my consort that we were safe.   Suddenly like a bomb exploding,  a wash of red covered the window,  a human stain with no doubt,  all was not well.

As we found another spot that seemed safe,  a room that looked like a classroom and filled with people, I had some bad feelings here,  even more than any that I had spent time in and my suspicions were born out.   With another lull in this never-ending parade of severe weather and the threatening sounds of crashing glass and gales of wind unseating rooftops we found an office across the street.

 

This one office struck my fancy as I saw a bay window front to a store and office warehouse.   Me and my friend sat in two of the chairs practically inert and watch debris flash by in an instant.   Only slightly more safe was this place and keeping that in mind,  I went into the warehouse with Marci in toe.  There were a lot of beautiful furnishings all handmade with the middle of the room sporting a table with chesire-acting cat sitting quietly in a chair next to that table.   She knowingly acknowledged me in this strange sanctuary conspicuously absent of people.

Walking back outside the carnage was obvious.   The scenery changes were not limited to buildings as dumpsters of debris,  seemingly human powdered the landscape and the aftermath of solitary suffering.

DespairD2

reachingreaching 2

 

The Monsters Among us.

GADChild

The sudden storm blew in.   The tumbleweeds rushed by and the howl of the wind pushed them like unwanted stepchildren.    I was one of those unfortunate souls,  who prayed for darkness and heavy rain.  The gloom seemed to cheer me up,  the low clouds compacted the world and the heavy snows further reduced the shrapnel of ugly words and harsher correction.

Even better was the icy and snowy weather that kept the devil at bay.    The whiteness like a signet made it official and angry ice cycles crashed from atop the roof of our house.   At night I would sleep walk,  perhaps to walk into the road or fall upon the broken glass.  One night in my dream state I decided the camper window should be a punching bag.   The echoes of anger that permeated my realm.

In my heart I cheered the removal of my anxiety.   The sound of the engine and in it’s wake a measure of relief.    On one occasion we had two cats.   For some reason that one day would harbor a death penalty for one of our cats.   With seventeen acres of land,  my father determined that one should die.

My brother took at him and with a thud,  my heart filled with pity,  anger and disillusionment.  Unbearable voices led me to the scene and the grave of soft ash an ethereal tomb.   Suddenly the Raven appeared and that poor cat with blood on it’s side to my astonishment that poor gray cat seemed to be begging,  hoping for some kind of reprieve and a tear or many fell.    My brother finished the task and that thought and an attempted or threatened murder of my mom at five,  congealed into an unholy miasma of doubt and uncertainty.

Like the gales of a winter,   this inclement weather was a well-timed respite.  Revenge against the Tsunami that always lain in wait.   A patient wraith with a two-edged bite and like a small warrior I tried to turn away that wrath,  especially for a mother whose esteem in our eyes was stunted.

TS1TS2

Maybe the rain was a song of sadness reaching out for love,  surely such wrath would pass but never did.  As I grew up the mixed messages closed in around me.    I made my peace with that person I called dad and seeing his own tragedy I gained perspective about him.   Unable to justify he reached out.  Forgiveness?  Without a doubt and an unlocked toolshed seemed so unimportant now.

I did not glory in his sickness but I did look back and realized the good that was hidden from plain sight.   No one can justify abuse but a humble heart finds a way.  Gasping for breath all I could do is hold his hand.   This warrior who too late for himself never really enjoyed the fruits of his ambition until the very end.

He and my sister found a common ground and her fear was not being able to be loved by him.   In all that,  that is my special moment with Dad.   The cold aloofness and rage was dulled by the medication and softness of a pillow.     As he drew his last breath,   I felt release in him,  the devils vanished in a bright light and the shadows cowered.

The lesson is never give up.   As  bad as life can be,  we can survive.  I survived a certain hell which has led to my OCDs and fear of random violence.   I have several panic attacks every day but I am learning to get well and move on.   One rung at a time.