"Can I Be The Next Victim?"
(Disclaimer: this post may contain politically incorrect or insensitive
viewpoints, opinions or comments. I can't help it - I'm a dinosaur.
N.B. - it is also possible that I may have expressed this before in
these pages. I've done a search looking for such a post, and was
unable to find one. Howver, as I've had pointed out, I sometimes
repeat myself. And I sometimes repeat myself )
Something has definitely happened to American society.
The woman pictured above was convicted sometime back for having had sexual
relations with a teenage boy. She was (as I understand) a teacher in his school.
She's back in the news again - of course, I don't watch the news, but I do go
to the gym, and I couldn't help but see the story on the TV screen in front of
me, along with the closed-captioning (I'm too short to change the channel).
She's been arrested again for (allegedly) having a discussion with a young
boy about sex.
This tells me that something in our culture has gone drastically haywire - there
is a deep-rooted sickness that (as far as I can tell) is only going to get worse.
Something has gone amuck - some sort of terrible dependency that's working
its way down into our morals and customs, and is surfacing to show its ugly
face in these sorts of terrifying and disturbing situations.
The only way that we can pull this pestilence, this pustule, out of our collective
soul is to face it - and the only way that we can do that is to ask ourselves the
uncomfortable, disturbing question:
What kind of deranged, depraved, idiot teenaged boy would have sex with
this gorgeous woman, and then call the police to have her arrested?
Okay - before the villagers start heading up my hill with torches and pitchforks,
let me say that I am not condoning Ms. LaFave's conduct. I am not discussing
it at all - I am willing to stipulate that she might be sick, or evil, or anything
else
that suits your fancy, because I don't
know; in all honesty, I don't understand
Whatsername who hangs around my house, and I talk to her every day. So the
chambers of the female mind are, to me, forever echoing emptily.
It's not the woman's behavior or morals or judgement that sends me around the
corner with my eyes crossed and my head tilted; it's wondering how we got to
such a state of Advocated Victimhood that a teenage boy would sleep with a
woman who looks like this, and then
complain to the authorities about it.
I can assure you that, when I was in school, had I or any of my teenage male
friends so much as gotten to spend a few minutes in close company with Ms.
Lafave, we would most definitely have talked about it - to
each other,
in full
braggadoccio. We would't even have considered telling our mothers or fathers
about it, and would have had no greater with than to continue to relive the
experience at any and every opportunity. And - had anyone else taken any
kind of action that might cut down on further contact - we'd'a taken 'em
out back of Bob's Quick Shop and given 'em a quick lesson in protocol,
with a black eye.
But, as I said, I'm a dinosaur. So I suppose that I should take at least a
moment here to think, with care and compassion, about the poor child
who was abused in such a manner - the scared young boy who found
himself at this woman's mercy, and who - afraid to ask anybody else for
help - was forced to acquiesce to her demands over and over again.
...the lucky stiff!
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