Guest Post by Fred Reed
Watching the Leper’s Fingers Fall
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. At Vassar some ditzbunny got blitzed, got laid, and a year later decided that she had been sexually assaulted. I guess she didn’t notice it at the time. You have to be alert to know when you have been raped. It can happen when you are distracted, maybe working on your laundry list, and you don’t find out about it for a while.
Congruent with the national fantasy that college girls don’t know about sex or the effects of beer, a conventionally imbecilic judge found the guy guilty. No surprise here. (“What part of “yes” don’t you understand, your honor?”)
But check out the astonishing email she wrote to the offender:
“I’m really sorry I led you on last night I should have known better then [sic] to let my self [sic] drink yet, I really don’t want this to effect [sic] our team dynamic or friendship. I don’t think any less of you at all I had a wonderful time last night I’m just too close to my previous relationship to be in one right now.”
Doesn’t sound very raped to me, but what do I know? I love her grammar. The child is semi-literate. I couldn’t have gotten away with such stuff in the sixth grade. Vassar? The national fingers drop. Drop, drop, drop they drop.
Next, in Stars and Stripes, we find that American Special Operations troops do not believe that women can succeed in their death-in-the-bushes outfits. The shame. How can they believe that women, who obviously can’t do certain things, obviously can’t do the things they obviously can’t do? This discriminatory position has no support at all, other than common sense, observation, and experience.
You see: Women, imperiled by frat parties, want to be SEALs. The only conclusion possible is that women are crazy.
Continue reading “Vassar…Vassar?”
