I'm so mad right now that I'm hyperventilating. I've been following the news from last night and today about the *incident* in the Kamloops jail.
It's been reported that 4 RCMP officers, 2 civilian guards, and 1 watch clerk, all male, watched 2 female inmates on the CCTV engage in sex. It's also been reported (as if this wasn't bad enough) that the woman who initiated the sex had intimated to the guard that she was HIV positive.
It's also been reported that the two women were in the tank for being inebriated, thus throwing a further immoral cast on the whole incident. They were drunk; ergo the 2nd woman wasn't in the right frame of mind to *consent.*
I feel sick, the woman in my estimation was raped. She was unable to consent, which I'm sure she wouldn't have had she been sober and aware of the medical factors, and she was doubly violated by the very people who are supposed to keep her safe.
Let's talk to the 7 men, let's have a list of what ifs.
What if it was your wife?
What if it was a girl with down syndrome?
What if it was a nun?
What if it was your Grandma?
What if it was a child?
What if it was your daughter?
What if it was a guy in a hood holding down a cheerleader?
Would you have intervened?
You bet your sorry ass you would have.
You sicken me, this all for a giddy little thrill, hope you sleep well tonight knowing that you were all part and parcel to a rape and quite possibly an attempted murder.
It doesn't have to be a male against a female to be a rape, you 7 get paid to take care of the vulnerable people you've arrested.
Just because they've been arrested doesn't give anyone a license to mistreat them, especially you.
I think you should all be fired and have to take some courses and counseling.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Pure Nirvana
There's a certain time on a summer evening that I find to be pure Nirvana.
The actual time changes as well as the day of the week. It takes a certain temperature, in the air and in the pool.
Take tonight as a prime example. I headed out to the pool after a very hot day. (hottest temps in B.C.) This followed our record breaker the day before and a so-so week. The pool registered 32 degrees Celsius and the air temp a chilly 33c.
I needed to get the timing right, I find it's good to go when the sun has just started to lower, and the moon is visible. Keeping in mind you need to beat the slugs. The back lawn is fraught with peril in your bare feet with poor visibility. ugh
Aaaahhh, it was great. The sun was an orange ball over my right shoulder, the half moon visible straight ahead. Two cats to keep me company, one on the bench and *The Dullard* stalking me across the open lawn. You remember *The Dullard* she's the one who thinks the radio is a heater and if she hides her head we can't see her.
I floated on my back with a feeling of contentment, I could hear the new flag flapping in the breeze, the big sprinkler on the front yard and very little else. I could smell the slight tang of the pigs next door, but the honey suckle gave it a nice sweet undertone and it wasn't so bad.
I floated in the knowledge that I wasn't tired from cooking because I made supper this morning to beat the heat. I floated in the knowledge that my critters were fed and the watering was done.
I floated in the knowledge that my DSH (domesticated short hair) was doing the dishes.
All in all a perfect pool evening. Life is good.
The actual time changes as well as the day of the week. It takes a certain temperature, in the air and in the pool.
Take tonight as a prime example. I headed out to the pool after a very hot day. (hottest temps in B.C.) This followed our record breaker the day before and a so-so week. The pool registered 32 degrees Celsius and the air temp a chilly 33c.
I needed to get the timing right, I find it's good to go when the sun has just started to lower, and the moon is visible. Keeping in mind you need to beat the slugs. The back lawn is fraught with peril in your bare feet with poor visibility. ugh
Aaaahhh, it was great. The sun was an orange ball over my right shoulder, the half moon visible straight ahead. Two cats to keep me company, one on the bench and *The Dullard* stalking me across the open lawn. You remember *The Dullard* she's the one who thinks the radio is a heater and if she hides her head we can't see her.
I floated on my back with a feeling of contentment, I could hear the new flag flapping in the breeze, the big sprinkler on the front yard and very little else. I could smell the slight tang of the pigs next door, but the honey suckle gave it a nice sweet undertone and it wasn't so bad.
I floated in the knowledge that I wasn't tired from cooking because I made supper this morning to beat the heat. I floated in the knowledge that my critters were fed and the watering was done.
I floated in the knowledge that my DSH (domesticated short hair) was doing the dishes.
All in all a perfect pool evening. Life is good.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Friction fires; or the reason I can't go into the forest.
There are times in a woman's life when she experiences what I like to call a *Wardrobe Milestone*
For example, her first pair of ice skates. (even when her mom got them off of Swap 'n' Shop for five bucks) These skates bring such joy and a feeling of importance, she's a big girl now, watch out. Several turned ankles and an aching butt later she realizes that maybe the skates were cheap and 5th hand so she blames her mother for her in expertise. (it's a given)
For me, my next milestone was the training bra, in Grade 4. (already busting outta the thing) I was chased by a pack of 10 year old boys for the whole year. I had a permanent bruise on my back, was round shouldered and, you guessed it, blamed my mother.
As I entered my 11th year, bruised, limping and suffering from poor posture, my mother decided I was ready for the next *MILESTONE* Not a *Wardrobe Milestone* Per Se, a cosmetic one
This brings us to the dreaded home permanent. I was strapped into a chair at the sink, wrenched backward and my hair soaked under the tap. (kind of a home water boarding) The dog's toe rag wrapped around my thin limp hair I was escorted to the kitchen table whereupon she rolled each 1/4 inch of my hair into tight pin curls then proceeded to douse me in chemicals that not only burned my scalp, but left me with a squint that I have to this day. The end result was badly damaged hair, which stayed frizzy for approximately two days. This I rightfully blamed on my mother.
The 12th year of my pitiful existence was highlighted by hot pants and high heels. My first pair of bell bottoms and a rash from the polyester. I entered Grade 8 limping, squinting, huddled, itchy and frizzy, but I was 2 inches taller. This was also the year I discovered acne. This I blamed on my mother.
By my 16th year I considered myself HAWT and wore my first (and last) bikini. It was a thing of beauty (not unlike I was) it had wooden hoops at each hip and one between the ever expanding boobs. This I thanked my mother for. Good genes I thought at the time. I also had my first bout of mouth sores, for this I blamed my mother.
For most women the next few milestones are a formal gown and then a wedding gown. I had no formal but I did have a 2nd hand homemade wedding gown. ( which the previous bride wore at 6 months pregnant). It was polyester. I was 95lbs, so on my wedding day I was boobless from weight loss, tripping over my heels and the dreaded rash was back. My hair had been done by a professional and it lasted 5 minutes as there was a gale force wind in Prince Rupert. I blamed my mother. She should have moved to some place warmer and windless.
The first sexy lingerie, now a girl has really grown up, watch out world! again with the rash.....
Maternity clothes, nuff said.
Now at the grand old age of 48, and having given birth to the two "Heads". Being arthritic and fat from my meds (NOT the beer). I've graduated into the unknown once again. For decency's sake and the protection of small children and animals I've found myself having to wear what I call a bathski. (bathing suit skirt all in one) (A onesi for old fat broads if you will) It's not a skort, lady golfers wear those, so they have to be cool right? Me, not so much.
I used to wear a pair of men's trunks, looked OK, hid the thighs. This year however I have the unfortunate problem of my thighs rubbing together. (this is not pretty)
I'm waiting for BC fire services to ban me from the forest. At the beach it's OK, the sound of the surf drowns it out. At the lake or at a pool, I give everyone in sight a bag of crinkly chips. This will work for the initial dunking, but I have to hustle back because they can't swim for a half hour after consuming them and they'll hear me.
I sit huddled, rashy, blistery, with aching ankles and frizzy hair waiting for the next *Wardrobe Milestone* I wonder what it'll be? Support hose? A girdle? sigh
For example, her first pair of ice skates. (even when her mom got them off of Swap 'n' Shop for five bucks) These skates bring such joy and a feeling of importance, she's a big girl now, watch out. Several turned ankles and an aching butt later she realizes that maybe the skates were cheap and 5th hand so she blames her mother for her in expertise. (it's a given)
For me, my next milestone was the training bra, in Grade 4. (already busting outta the thing) I was chased by a pack of 10 year old boys for the whole year. I had a permanent bruise on my back, was round shouldered and, you guessed it, blamed my mother.
As I entered my 11th year, bruised, limping and suffering from poor posture, my mother decided I was ready for the next *MILESTONE* Not a *Wardrobe Milestone* Per Se, a cosmetic one
This brings us to the dreaded home permanent. I was strapped into a chair at the sink, wrenched backward and my hair soaked under the tap. (kind of a home water boarding) The dog's toe rag wrapped around my thin limp hair I was escorted to the kitchen table whereupon she rolled each 1/4 inch of my hair into tight pin curls then proceeded to douse me in chemicals that not only burned my scalp, but left me with a squint that I have to this day. The end result was badly damaged hair, which stayed frizzy for approximately two days. This I rightfully blamed on my mother.
The 12th year of my pitiful existence was highlighted by hot pants and high heels. My first pair of bell bottoms and a rash from the polyester. I entered Grade 8 limping, squinting, huddled, itchy and frizzy, but I was 2 inches taller. This was also the year I discovered acne. This I blamed on my mother.
By my 16th year I considered myself HAWT and wore my first (and last) bikini. It was a thing of beauty (not unlike I was) it had wooden hoops at each hip and one between the ever expanding boobs. This I thanked my mother for. Good genes I thought at the time. I also had my first bout of mouth sores, for this I blamed my mother.
For most women the next few milestones are a formal gown and then a wedding gown. I had no formal but I did have a 2nd hand homemade wedding gown. ( which the previous bride wore at 6 months pregnant). It was polyester. I was 95lbs, so on my wedding day I was boobless from weight loss, tripping over my heels and the dreaded rash was back. My hair had been done by a professional and it lasted 5 minutes as there was a gale force wind in Prince Rupert. I blamed my mother. She should have moved to some place warmer and windless.
The first sexy lingerie, now a girl has really grown up, watch out world! again with the rash.....
Maternity clothes, nuff said.
Now at the grand old age of 48, and having given birth to the two "Heads". Being arthritic and fat from my meds (NOT the beer). I've graduated into the unknown once again. For decency's sake and the protection of small children and animals I've found myself having to wear what I call a bathski. (bathing suit skirt all in one) (A onesi for old fat broads if you will) It's not a skort, lady golfers wear those, so they have to be cool right? Me, not so much.
I used to wear a pair of men's trunks, looked OK, hid the thighs. This year however I have the unfortunate problem of my thighs rubbing together. (this is not pretty)
I'm waiting for BC fire services to ban me from the forest. At the beach it's OK, the sound of the surf drowns it out. At the lake or at a pool, I give everyone in sight a bag of crinkly chips. This will work for the initial dunking, but I have to hustle back because they can't swim for a half hour after consuming them and they'll hear me.
I sit huddled, rashy, blistery, with aching ankles and frizzy hair waiting for the next *Wardrobe Milestone* I wonder what it'll be? Support hose? A girdle? sigh
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