Oh God. Oh God. Is there no surcease? I know, silly question. Squalling protesters: Half of the country seems fifteen years younger than its chronological age. Staged ire. Sordid passion of the herd. Hysteria. Irrationality. Werid accusations. Savage feminists. As per custom, it is all about how horrible men are.
One of the sillier sillinesses of feminists regarding us men, of whom they seem to know little, is that we hate women, scorn them, want to abuse and hurt them and, most especiall, gang-rape them. See, men view rape casually. It’s just something to do in a moment of boredom. Like scratching, or wondering where we left our keys. It’s because of our misogyny. The Sisterhood seems to love misogyny, pray for misogyny, invent misogyny because without it life would be bleak and devoid of meaning.
What is wrong with these baffled ditz-rabbits? Men hate women? By and large, our mothers have been women. Yes, check it out. Also our wives and girlfriends, grandmothers, granddaughters, daughters and–this will astonish the more ardent among feminists–even many of our friends. And, often, our collies.
As for regarding rape causally: If some dirtball raped anywoman close to me, I would favor subjecting him to a sex change with a propane torch, knee-capping him as a mobility-reduction measure, giving him a beating of the sort popular with dentists who want Porsches, and putting him in Leavenworth for thirty years. Sensitive readers will suggest that I am a psycho for proposing such effective and extremely meritorious measures. Admittedly they run counter to the trade winds of American jurisprudence. But a great many men will quietly say, “Right on, Fred.”
But: Rape is a crime. The standard is guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. As well as I can see, the Kavanaugh charges do not even meet the civil standard of preponderance of the evidence, since there seems to be little evidence to preponder. The accuser doesn’t remember when it was, or where it was, or just who was there, and those she thinks were there don’t remember the party.
It would be uncharitable of me to note that she sure did pop up at a politically convenient time. So I won’t note it, as I am vey charitable. Anyway, such is the nobility of our democracy that no one would make phony rape charges to derail a judgeship. In Guatemala, yes, but not in America. Heaven forfend.
Since I am actually in a mood for noting things, I will note that any girl in my high school class–King George High, class of 1964–could accuse me of raping her at a party, and do it with similar evidence: none. Equally with Kavanaugh, I would have no way to defend myself. How could I prove what I hadn’t done at a party nobody remembered after 55 years? This would be no defense against the presumption of guilt. Girls I dated would report that I had no such inclinations. Surviving teachers would remember–well, perhaps imperfect behavior, but nothing lubricious. This would prove nothing.
However, this first accusation against Kavanagh has the virtue that it could have happened, since there is no proof that it didn’t happen. The same could be said of course of the charge that I raped whoever some girl might say that I had. Ah, but now we come to the gang-rape business. We have:
“Swetnick, who attended High School in Gaithersburg, Maryland, swore under oath that she attended at least 10 parties where she says she witnessed Kavanaugh, Mark Judge, and others “cause girls to become inebriated and disoriented so they could then be ‘gang raped’ in a side room or bedroom by a ‘train’ of numerous boys.” She added that she has a “firm recollection of seeing boys lined up outside rooms at many of these parties waiting for their ‘turn’ with a girl inside the room,”
First, “cause girls to become inebriated and disoriented.” This displays a common theme among feminists, painting girls as helpless, easily manipulated victims, having no will of their own. Is this not truly insulting to girls? “He didn’t tell me beer had alcohol in it and I didn’t know boys were interested in sex, I thought it was just us girls….”
But, just as the problem with the first story is no witness, the problem with the gang rape is too many witnesses. “At least ten parties….” Since it is unlikely that a girl would come back to be gang-raped a second time, this implies at least ten victims. While it is true that a rape victim often will not come forward because of embarrassment, it is curious that not one of the violated multitude said anything, even though everyone at the party would have seen the line-up. None of the other girls at the party said anything either, even though this was a frequent occurrence. Is it not odd that the author of this story, seeing long lines of boys engaging in rape, at party after party after party, saw no particular reason for reporting it? That the many other girls witnessing this also said nothing? This is a song sounding mightily of fabrication. Which must be obvious to senators who, though morally challenged, are not stupid.
With this many victims, perpetrators, and witnesses, it is impossible that the FBI will not find proof. If Kavanaugh, and other boys, did it, they belong in jail. Bill Cosby went to the slam for proven rape committed many years ago So can Kavanaugh. But if they did not, perjury charges against the accusers would be salutary, or at the very least civil actions for libel. Given the immense hardship and often irremediable consequence of being falsely accused, the penalty for false charges should also be harsh.
False accusations of rape are not uncommon. A few gain national attention. Most do not. A few: Tawana Brawley, a black woman, was gang-raped by four white (of course) men, except that she wasn’t. Next there is the Duke Lacrosse case, Then at Rolling Stone a feminist writer and a magazine not greatly given to fact checking published the story of rape at the University of Virginia, also discredited. It cost them a libel settlement. And so on.
Again, ff the accused men and boys had been guilty, long prison terms would have been a good idea. But they weren’t. The presumption of guilt for men and innocence for women are convenient for those who want to prevent confirmation of a judge but do not reflect reality. People, assuredly to include women, use what power they have to get what they want.
The editor of a major paper once told me that he never allowed a woman into his office unless the door was open and a third person present. Why? If a disgruntled reporter says, “He groped me,” it will go viral. (Joyful headline headline in competing paper: “Editor of Daily Blatt allegedly….”) Months of furor will ensue. He will have large legal bills. The suspicion arising from that “allegedly” will never die. The paper’s board may well decide that regardless of guilt he is having too serious an affect on the advertisers. He will be permitted to resign, never to get a similar job. The Daily Blatt will settle as quietly as possible for a quarter million.
Meanwhile, the Kavanaugh carnival is up and running. Now, Lord save us, we have USAToday trying to nail Kavanaugh for…yes…pedophilia. The evidence? Ain’t none. None needed. Hey, we’re talking the American media.
Nuff said. I predict the soon headline: “Berkeley sychotherapist recounts seeing Brett Kavanaugh leading the entire Marine Division in gang-raping thirteen-year-old autistic orphans.”
The Fredian Occasional Latin Tour Guide!
America has some fifty-seven million residents of Latin-American descent, mostly citizens. Willy-nilly, they are part of America. Thinking that many Americans might want to know something about them, where they came from, what they do and have done, what manner of wights they be, the Occasional TourGuide will offer, occasionally, some glimpses. These necessarily will be selective and biased. Putting a continent and a half in a web page would be awkward. I hope that readers will find them interesting, and a remedy to the idea, epoused by weblouts, that Latin America is an unalloyed s of wretched hellhole.
Maria Izquierdo, a Mexican artist I like. Died 1955.
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Fred Reed is a former news weasel and part-time sociopath living in central Mexico with his wife and three useless but agreeable street dogs. He says it suits him.