[rape] seven short posts on the matter [3]

The way it should be

Mike Tyson saw Desiree Washington in a line. That’s as he would have liked it, all the girls lined up for his inspection. He chose her and from the field, I would have too. He was a known lecher, a brute, everything he’d done and said indicated that:

"A lot of young women don't know what they're getting themselves into. A lot of them think it's fun, a game. . . . But they truly don't know what they're into when they lock themselves into a room and engage in sex with a man who knows how to handle a woman."

She went up to his room later, flattered and curious. He says that, by crossing that threshold, it was permission. She said it was not – that she was a naïve girl, summoned by her hero to talk about things. Did she honestly believe, in that society and at her age, that it was to play tiddlywinks and chat about philosophy?

She might have. I’ve known many seemingly worldly women who were still easy to con, who were the product of their relatively sheltered upbringing, despite later developments.

The perpetual hunger to be beautiful and that thirst to be loved which is the real curse of Eve. [Jean Rhys, the Left Bank, 1927]

There’s the rub. Naïvety and the desire to be wanted but how many times, once it’s clear he wants her, does she see the matter as closed, that in his mind the ultimate denouement of the libidinous dance is a simple inevitability but in hers, she’s already thinking thoughts of other things. She’d be shocked if he kept pressing his attentions.

The way the woman thinks. The way the man reacts. It’s patently obvious that a woman cannot understand the way a man’s biology works. And a man never really understands that for a woman, desire is a tool.

[rape] seven short posts on the matter [2]

The way it should be

I’ve tried to feel, to empathize with women countless times. Surrounded by girls most days, it’s a fertile field for finding out how a woman thinks and feels. I’ve painstakingly asked my partner what it’s like to have a baby inside her, what it’s like to give birth. All the joy, pain, strange emotions, the lot. I want to know.

Desperately keeping a tight hold on my sharp tongue, I listen to what it is to be a woman – hopes, dreams, ideas, what she respects, what she disparages. I want to know. From all this, it’s more than clear that rape is an incredibly destructive violation, not only of the body but of what the person is, of everything she or he has achieved. Gone in a moment.

I have to get some clue as to what this means. So I think of prison. There I am, in a cell and three beefy types come in, hold me down and do it. I can now feel the shame, the anguish, the burning anger, the desire for revenge. Perhaps the revenge is more masculine, I don’t know. Plus the sweaty smell of them. It’s bad.

We were once burgled – the back window had been forced open and the bedroom had been trashed. All our personal items were scattered and the valuables taken. My rarest vinyl records had been taken.

Perhaps that too was a little like rape. A sense of powerlessness as they do as they wish.

[rape] seven short posts on the matter [1]

The way it should be

I’m a rapist.

I know this because a piece of graffiti in 1985 on a brick wall, in two foot high letters, told me: “All men are rapists.” Marilyn French, in 1977, also told me this in a book and she added: “They rape us with their eyes, their laws and their codes.” Of course, that was before the PC mafia took over.

There’s a third reason I know I’m a rapist. My own partner told me so. The night before, we’d both been as hard at it as each other - plus romance. This night, we’d also both been as hard at it as each other, with one difference. She had said at the start she wasn’t in the mood but of course, all that changed later. There was still the romance.

Next morning, she calmly informed me I’d raped her, didn’t I know? I could go to jail for that, didn’t I know? I think my look of shock, rather than disbelief, might have saved me on that occasion. Interestingly, one afternoon, with me laid up with flu and at death’s door, [must lay it on with a trowel here], she raped me.

She entered our bedroom and there was no doubt what was on the agenda. I protested: “In a few days. Let me get better.” But it was not to be. For the first ten minutes, I was raped but it’s amazing how one’s physiognomy can find energy from nowhere, don’t you think? During the coffee break, I told her she’d raped me. She thought I was recovering, as my sense of humour had returned.

By the way, her work was at the Family Law Court.

[blogfocus saturday] early posting before falling asleep

As threatened, this is a cut down version of Blogfocus this evening, due to a bit of weariness and I’m really sorry, fellow bloggers but the e-mailing might have to be tomorrow now. Will you forgive me this second time?


1 The theme this evening is rather poor actually. It simply comprises posts which either made me chuckle when I read them or stopped me in my tracks or both. So pour yourself a whisky and let’s start with freedom loving David Farrer, on the non-history he’s just read:

I recently finished reading the Roy Jenkins biography of Gladstone and what an excellent book it was. But perhaps I've been conned. How do I know that this "Gladstone" character actually existed? For that matter, was there really a Palmerston, a Disraeli or even a Queen Victoria? And this "London" place - is it real? I think I've been there, but what does that prove?

The reason I'm asking these seemingly bizarre questions is that my current reading matter is the Killing of History by Australian academic Keith Windschuttle. The author is angry that history departments down under have been taken over by practitioners of "cultural relativism", "semiotics", "structuralism", "post-structuralism", "discourse theory", "postmodernism", "hermeneutics" and much more of the same.


2 I never realized the Englishman was such a naughty boy but the proof is in the post:

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's trolleys when they weren't looking. 2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals. 3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to feminine products aisle. 4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official tone, "Code 3" in housewares..... and watched what happened. 5. August 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

There are a whole lot more where they came from.

3 James Cleverly has been categorizing cyclists who overtake him on the road. Here is the first category but you’ll have to go there to read the others:

1. Those who I am fairly happy to be overtaken by, these include: # Anyone who has a bicycle that has carbon-fibre bits. # Anyone who has those clip on shoe/peddle things. # Anyone that has cycling legs # Anyone who can do that balancing thing at traffic lights ...

Eight more bloggers plus the Mystery Blogger here.

[orange snow] the question is - why orange

We’ve something you haven’t, nyah, nyah, nyah! Our snow is orange and yours is just boring old white:

"A chemical test unit will be sent to Omsk ... it's main task will be to investigate pollution in the region and establish the degree of danger represented by the anomalous snow fall," the ITAR-TASS quoted an unnamed official from the ministry as saying. "Residents are advised not to use snow for their household or technical needs and to limit walking, either by people or their pets, in this area."

Snow ranging in colour from light yellow to orange and carrying a distinctive "musty" odour was observed yesterday in five districts of Omsk province, which lies in western Siberia and borders Kazakhstan.

[perfect day] the sun shines down on a winter wonderland

This is one of those times where, if I don’t post now, the moment will be lost, when Russia is at its very, very best. The before dawn, blizzard paths have cleared, to reveal a pure white picture book landscape, the sun’s shining and it’s a clear, fresh minus 20 degrees out there. Maybe 5 degrees warmer would have allowed a longer walk outside on the scrunchy, hard-packed snow paths.

I’ve just been paid and have bought some ketya [scrummy red fish], which I’ve just eaten on toast, with smyetana [sour cream] on top; there’s a thick meaty soup waiting, followed by some little delicacies the Russians and indigenous people here are famous for. Simple pleasures.

Now, just add one beautiful girl with rosy cheeks and a winning smile, her face encircled by a furry hood and the picture is complete. It’s not for everyone but for me, the simple pleasures are the best. It took me decades to finally wake up to this. Stephen Pollard please note.

[middle-east] intelligence report makes one think

The picture is bleak, in that the sectarian violence appears to be self-sustaining. I shan’t add: “They’ve had long enough to get it this way.”

Reading between the lines, does that mean the US can’t ever go home? Bush’s warning seems to indicate this.

One Christian scenario places a power, possibly the US, right where they are and things go from bad to worse. This would also seem to agree with Bush’s motive in allowing the release of this report. Let’s hope this particular Christian scenario isn’t right.

[leunacy] france and turkey may swap prison populations

If the European Union threat to Britain weren’t so dire, one could smile at this:

The happy result of this could be that the entire population of France could be lifted and placed, Midnight Express like in Turkish prisons. Of course the entire population of Turkey could then find itself extradited to France and imprisoned there.

From Stephen Pollard, commenting on Tim Worstall’s post.

[nu labour trolls] first photos just through

Seen escaping Westminster after the Dale death ray was utilized for the first time. Stay tuned.

[lack of time] why schedules fail

This article is dedicated to Sempiternal Horizons.

# Work expands to fill the available time plus half an hour. [C. Northcote Parkinson, 1958]

# Which of us is to do the hard and dirty work for the rest – and for what pay? Who is to do the pleasant and clean work and far what pay? [John Ruskin, 1870]

# One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important and that to take a holiday would bring all kinds of disaster. [Bertrand Russell, 1932]

Our work, yours and mine, might be different – salaried, entrepreneurial, creative or criminal – but there are certain truisms common to the majority. Here are some:

1] We are, all of us, up to our eyeballs in work and though we might moan, we all like to feel terribly busy and if our time wasn’t called upon half so much, we’d try to make it so. We all like playing the martyr to the cause a bit and the mantle ‘run off our feet’ sits comfortably with us. [Parkinson quote above]

2] The unit cost of goods is such that the average salary does not cover it. Market forces are responsible for this but it’s also those who drive those market forces in the first place who have created this situation. The result is that we’re always playing ‘catch-up-football’ – trying to cover the next increase in prices and never quite managing it, in fact going backwards. The further result, as you well know, is working two jobs, credit card debt and mortgaged up to the hilt. [Ruskin quote above]

3] We feel we don’t have time to sit down and make a schedule and even if we do, it sooner or later falls by the wayside due to a variety of factors, not least mental stress. [Russell quote above] And yet good scheduling will lift half that stress.

4] Anyone, no matter how close to us, places demands on our time. He or she always feels that his needs, his high prioritization of himself takes precedence over anyone else. If time is tight, he expects you to drop or reschedule someone else, not him. Lip service is paid to our drawn and haggard features: “You really must take a break, you know.” If we do, it must not include his time. He meant the others.

Continued here.