#Metoo. Now What? (Edited) December 7, 2017
Posted by voolavex in despicable, Domestic Violence, Genital Matters, guilt, Guilt relief, Halter tops, Harvey Weinstein, illegal, marriage, murder, serial monster, sex, sexist, sexy, sins, Social Issues, solutions, The 45th, vagina.Tags: anal sex, copping a feel. being felt up. finger f*cking, inserted objects., Internet, oral copulation, political, politics, questions, rape, sex, sexual assault, women
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I have been informed that I have made some errors in this post. There are 51 sets of sexual assault laws in this country. They can be found on findlaw.com. These are the 50 states and Federal law. I did not check all of them and I did not include territories or possessions, however each body of laws regarding sexual crimes have various types, sentencing recommendations and those that cross state lines become federal. What I sensed in those I read was that various degrees of these crimes exist but I also think – only my opinion – that they should be codified better throughout the various legal systems. And I hold to the idea that the accused and the abused should both have due process. I should add that sexual crimes are very complicated and very much disagreed upon globally. But indeed they are, in this country, set down by each state and the federal government and guidelines, statutes and many laws exist. I apologize for not researching this better and I hope that simply by searching a state’s sex crimes law on the Internet these resources will answer questions I cannot. I am not in law enforcement nor am I an attorney. This post has been edited to reflect my errors.
What happens when you unleash predators and dump them into a big cage with room for many, many more? Some are misdemeanor predators with only one egregious act to their name and others are serial predators who would still be doing it if they had not been exposed. It’s a valid question because every crime on our books has degrees of offenses. Sexual crimes do as well (see above) – I would guess because it has been ignored, not believed, excused or just plain denied by the offenders or the legal and LE systems these laws may slip through the cracks. It has a statute of limitations in some states so if you got assaulted 26 years ago – time has run out and the offender walks.
For many reasons – that of shame, trauma and fear of not being believed,what are considered criminals among us who don’t get charged and we have #metoos who do not get their day in court. All these particular offenses are are not equal and herein lies the rub (sorry). Is a pinch on the butt equal to a rape in an alley? Is workplace harassment comparable to a gang rape in a fraternity house or at a party. Is substance abuse a factor? Is domestic abuse with rape the same as rubbing up in subway car? Can a husband rape a spouse legally. Is flirting frought with danger. Is it an invitation or is it so complicated a message it can be a crime to even do it? You know the variations on this theme and you also know that the acts themselves are not all the same. They may make us feel violated and threatened and dirty; but they are not all the same.
Those accused – whom we so readily name and those who are not named but pointed at – areoften not charged and therefore not proven guilty. The millions of #metoos are still only making accusations. And while these offenses include the murdering of the souls and psyches of the women and male victims who have been abused and violated, there are still very broad interpretations of such crimes by judges and juries. Frequently the evidence in any court would be one word against the other. I suspect even lawyers on both sides have issues with this problem.
How could you apply a statute of limitations on better defined degrees or would all sexual high crimes and misdeanors be treated exactly the same. Anthony Weiner provided proof of his own aberrations – and he made himself the villain because he was the villain. He is in the fedslam. He has been disgraced and he is being punished through the legal system. Due process.
Because a culture of fear and shame denied the violated, the violated were denied due process. I think if I were so inclined, I would sue those who perpetuated this. And if I were in the legal arena, I would collect all the evidence available and bring causes of action in each case that could be a cause of action. I would not favor the race or age or gender of the accused or their value to a college or a career or a future. Let Justice be blind. We are a nation of accomplished finger pointers. We use reputations to defame and extol many people who deserve neither. But I am more concerned with the way in which these crimes or alleged crimes (because people do lie) are handled and have been handled. And I speak personally; that not all people violated have their lives ruined. Many do, but many don’t. There are those of us who can relegate memories to a place where #metoo no longer has a daily impact or incessant pain. We are the fortunate ones.
While members of the Congress and commerce are resigning in droves and without due process we are committing further injustice and a rush to judgment outside the courts of law. This is wrong too.
I do not claim to have answers that are effective in the moment. But the crimes of a sexual nature; the rapes, the rubs, the feel-ups, the date rapes, the marital rapes, the campus rapes the injury, the accused who do go on trial, the anger, the retaliation all have to be placed in a context that other crimes against society and people are placed. This body of crime has existed for all of humanity. Some sought power, some sought satisfaction, some went nuts in war and kept on abusing. But in any context – this is not new. And as such we need to make it fit into our legal system better and be adjudicated as we do many other offenses.
And please remember that women and men can be #metoos.
Who Killed JFK? Hasn’t Trump Heard Yet? October 21, 2017
Posted by voolavex in despicable, Election 2016, Idiots in Government, murder, Politics & Religion, Putin, sins, Social Issues, The 45th.add a comment
So the 45s have turned into the Borgias. This may be one of the best examples of diverting attention from the now to events in then. Instead of concentrating on the immediate issues at hand; the lack of action in the Congress and the White House, the lack of intelligence in the government, the never-ending suspicions – yea – beliefs that the 2016 Election was a joint effort by The US and Russia, the lies, high crimes and misdemeanors that rouse no anger or suspicions, we dig up the good old “Who Killed JFK” tamasha. This one never crossed my mind, but the plan is brilliant and evil.
Those who still remember that day in Dallas – 54 years ago(!!!!!) are still fascinated by the entire story. Theories, conspiracies, facts, lies, the size dress Mrs. Kennedy wore, the grassy knoll, the unanswered questions, Jack Ruby and the weeping are a never healing suppurating wound in the side of this nation.
Is this the fiddle that the 45’s have found to accompany the nation’s perpetual dirge? Gone are the perps ; their due process null and void. The people in the painful images of those days are mostly dead. The last child standing is a grown woman. Does he want really yearn for this “history” to be further told. Why not just disinter the corpses and have them be questioned. Or preserved under glass and laid in the rotunda? Was this one of “promises” and did I miss it. No wonder he stays up all night. Stephen Miller at his finest hour (his folks must be so proud). Or maybe he had never heard of it before?
I must note that of all the dirty, nasty red herrings the 45’s have tossed, stinking, into the last 22 months – this one defies description.
My Mother’s Birthday April 26, 1923 -1978 April 26, 2017
Posted by voolavex in birthday, mother, serial monster, funeral, life baggage, loss, dead, death certificate, despicable, Domestic Violence, guilt, Mann & Mann, marriage, murder, My Mother, serial monster, Social Issues.Tags: death certificate birthday, funeral, life, loss, mother, murder, police, serial monster, women
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Back in the days when domestic disputes were shameful and unreported, my mother was the dead body in a domestic murder.
In a small blue-collar town in Massachusetts. On January 24, 1978. It was a long time ago and it was a moment ago. It was the tragic finale to many phone calls and plane ticket reservations and telephone commiseration for a mother who simply couldn’t. She fought back, she screamed, she saw a doctor, she drank, but she could not leave with my two much younger siblings, or the pony or the house or the lingering affection she carried for a man who was a serial monster. Bigamist, philanderer, narcissist, sociopath and murderer. One sib says many calls of service were made to the local police – their hands tied by 1977/1978 concepts and legalities. Another sib tells of death threats made to them on the night of my mother death. I did not know anything about this part. I only knew my mother wrote and cried and simply said “he” had a girlfriend and she was confused and didn’t know what to do. At 54 she was probably menopausal. Not much to go on. She didn’t want to move out with the children or leave the pets and the laundry list of excuses women have conjured for time immemorial. I was in Los Angeles and not welcome in her house. (Actually on February 10, 1958 I was no longer welcome in her life. At 12, I thought it was because he really loved her.) I blame myself for not listening harder and asking more questions. And I had no idea that physical violence was part of the picture. Neither of my siblings (19+ and 15) called me to ask for help. My mother had pride that went before all else. Including her funeral.
Her death certificate from that time reads COD: undetermined. A residual fear stops me from requesting a new one. She will still be dead.
She was only 54. Today is her 95th birthday. May I say she was beautiful and gentle and kind? May I say by the time I arrived at her house, anything of sentimental value that had belonged to her was gone? That her grieving husband knew I knew and it was not pleasant? That I swallowed my rage, stepped back and stayed for the children ( I am my mother’s daughter)? That I drank and sobbed and that the tables overflowed with funeral meats and that 200+ attended her funeral in Boston? That mourners continued; people I never knew, arrived in tears? That it was the same funeral home by her high school best friend’s parents? Mann & Mann. That I had played as small child in their huge house upstairs? That my family went back as close friends of the Manns? That the grieving husband read a sickening tribute?. And that my own father wept with me in stunned sorrow?
In 1978, it was simply another domestic dispute. Perhaps still in the local police records – on paper in a box; with so many others of the time.
There was no investigation. I knew of no interviews with siblings. That police never asked me anything. My grandmother thought it was a heart attack. She had just lost her only child. Was it mine to reveal? Information continued to seep through and very long after I found out the history of the man she had married in 1958. From his children; who loved my mother. I should have wondered more about the words of my dear step-brother who walked in, in 1978, crying, and said to me, sotto voce, “what did he do to her?”
I have always known it was murder. I have always known he patiently waited. I knew she did not wash down 40 or 50 pills with vodka. She didn’t ever take Darvon and that’s what they found. I know he sat beside her and watched. I have no idea how he managed to make it happen. He died five years later; alone in a rented apartment in Lawrence; the other woman long gone. He was soup when they found him. Dead five days of a heart attack in a fall from the up high liquor shelf. One he needed a step stool to reach. In a closed apartment on a sweltering summer day.
He was short and bald and had good teeth.
She has been gone 39 years. Since the day my broken heart and endless anger met all at once. And no one of us leftover has ever been able to move on. We try to unpack that valise, only to realize that some things travel with you forever, in your life luggage.
Voolavex 