it was effectively confirmed today that women who drink are just asking to get raped. it emerged that an award to a raped women was reduced by 25% because the woman had been drinking. and it was one of 14 such cases last year. i have no words, but i heard a female voice on the news (may have been the woman herself) say:
drinking isn’t a crime. rape is a crime.
bridget prentice the appropriate minister says ‘a victim of rape is not in any way at all culpable due to alcohol consumption’. it would be nice if this reflected real life. apparently the person who made the decision to reduce the award ‘received advice’. and a slap.
fortunately, the tories (you remember them, they were something in the eighties…) have sorted the problem with the legal system. they reckon it’s them bloody liberal pinko commie faggot subversive judges (you know the ones) who are randomly giving people bail. and then they all go and murder people. well, bail must stop. lock em all up now. before they murder again. or at all. end crime at a stroke – lock us all up.
good job somebody has a grown-up approach to criminal justice. i blame the bloody human rights act / europeans / immigrunts etc. [please delete as appropriate]
and in the spirit of juxtaposition, i wanted to share the best search i have ever had and one which made me feel complimented by it having found me, because it must say something good about the blog:
sing her name is love is sweat
damn, i wish i’d written that! thanks, mystery searcher and i so hope you find what you are after.
or what you need.
Categories: just me · the bloody tories
i had almost forgotten summer. the last of the broad beans were gathered this weekend and already they have been replaced with late potatoes. who knows if or when they will come up, but i shall enjoy the wait. i have remembered what it is to sit in the garden and stare at the vegetables in the vague belief it affects how they grow. the earwigs enjoy my company, though they do not say as much. i like the earwigs; they eat the bean leaves and leave the beans. they are good sharers.
so much has happened already this year and yet i have my boys’ birthdays to come and the start of a new year at college – a course so expensive it could be made from iridium personally crafted by bill gates. i am fortunate that a rich body has seen fit to assist me with a rather large scholarship and yet more fortunate that in these credit crunch days i can thoughtlessly extend my borrowing from the bank secure in the knowledge that i have as yet no particular way of paying it back. still; you gotta gamble (or gambol…).
i walked to the stream with firstborn son today and we played pointlessly with some stones that blocked what flow there was. when he was done, the dam was broken and the stream streamed along no less happily than before. and he was as alive as only a five-year-old who has just mucked about in a small body of water can be. me too. two five-year-olds in a stream, one grey, watched by sheep who probably wondered why. i am not the only simple wonderer in the village.
past lughnasa and still the wheel turns and the year provides – beans … scholarships… and i know gratitude, surprise and ignorance. and the greatest of these is ignorance. i found a bottle of wine last night from my parents’ stock and we drank it and thought of them drinking wine in that undiscovered country. it is a time of gifts. fidel – i wish i could write you a melody so plain that would hold you dear friend from going sane; ehj – i wish you all the joy of your new love and that she shares that space at the foot of the tree with bodhi. let’s meet for a drink in the boathouse soon.
time, it seems is still working, unlike me.
Categories: deep thinking
