One of my cherished early memories is sitting at the dining room table with my Dad while he read the Washington Post and I read the local neighborhood newspaper, which was easier for me to understand because the writing was simpler and the stories were about neighborhood stuff I knew about.
So I always associated newspapers with intelligent, serious people – like my Dad. I became an avid newspaper reader myself, but always preferred the Wall Street Journal to the New York Times. It was obvious to me by 2002 that the New York Times was pure shit-tier propaganda and when Judith Miller was busted for printing Israeli propaganda about “Saddam’s WMDs” I was vindicated.
But The Washington Post ain’t what it used to be. Reading the comments on the New York Times and the Washington Post has disabused me about the intelligence or seriousness of newspaper readers. I’m only glad my Dad ain’t around to see this.
“Rita from California” comments on why E. Jean Carroll did not report Donald Trump to the police after he allegedly raped her in the women’s dressing room at Bergdorf Goodman’s.
I can only shake my head in dismay when people wonder why she didn’t report the assault. No understanding of the times. No understanding of the work environment.
You know, back in the dark ages when a woman couldn’t accuse a man of rape.
I remember in 1996 walking to class and seeing slogans graffitied all over the campus reading “All Men Are Potential Rapists” and “Take Back The Night.” I found out that there was an “anti-rape” rally that night. I came to understand that there was a rapist on campus and I figured I would attend because, hey, I was friends with a lot of girls on campus. I even once served as one of the “escorts” where you would walk a girl to her car if she had late classes. I mean, I got it.
But then a girl explained to me that one third of the girls on my campus had been raped. I was like, what? By the rapist? No, she explained, by the frat guys. The frat guys? I thought to myself, those guys that set up a hot tub on the quad and sat around in it wearing goofy-looking Tom Cruise sunglasses hoping to get people to join their club? Those guys were going around raping the co-eds?
Well I didn’t attend but when the gals showed up to party after the rally a lot of them were really worked up about rape and some seemed rather hysterical and positively hostile. I think I retired early that night.
Later my girlfriend told me, tearfully, that she had been raped in college. I had fantasies about killing the bastard. But then later she explained that she had forgiven the guy and they actually dated for a while after the rape. So, yeah, I started to realize that “rape” kind of means different things to different people.
In high school my friend and I would drive around, see girls walking down the street, offer to give them a ride, then ask them if they wanted to come back to our place – and sometimes they did. We would pair off and, you know, do it. Sometimes not “all the way” but sometimes “all the way.”
I can just imagine it now: 30 years later some woman writes a book. “Sally and I were walking down the street just as it was getting dark when two leering frat boys started cat-calling us from their car, demanding we get in. A guy called “Hipster” was so intimidating we got into the car, then they drove us back to their place where they isolated us from each other, forced us into separate bedrooms and raped us.”
“Then you know we hung out for a few weeks with these guys until we found better boyfriends and we never saw them again. But we were just too intimidated to go to the police and report this roving duo of lecherous rapists luring underage girls after dark. We were only 16!”
Back in 1996 no one believed in rape and men could just go around raping people and the cops would do nothing. In fact, if a woman went to the police they would probably have been gang raped by the police, who would then call up the rapists and invite them to join in the gang bang!
What’s even funnier: I raped a girl in Bergdorf Goodman’s about 10 years after Donald Trump raped that 51 year old woman in Bergdorf Goodman. It’s the one in midtown. There was some sort of after party for the employees and this girl I knew was invited and I was her +1. We drank a lot, then sort of walked out of the main party room, sat down on some couches where I proceed to feel her up, grab her by the pussy (and I didn’t even ask, she just let me) then took her home and raped her all night.
If you give them a good rogering they won’t tell and will quite often come back for more raping. It’s only “rape-rape” if you don’t make them orgasm.
So boys, just do a good job and they won’t report you to the police. We need to teach men to rape more skillfully. (Remember, it’s the little man in the boat.)
As for the Washington Post, or the New York Times, don’t read the comment section. It will just prove to you that democracy doesn’t work and women have no business voting.
I am a man, a man I’ll give ya something that ya won’t forget
I said you shouldn’t have worn that dress
I said you shouldn’t have worn that dress, worn that dress
I know you want what’s on my mind
I know you like what’s on my mind
I know it eats you up inside
I know you know, you know, you know
Here I come, I come, I come, I come