The [conviction rate of reported rapes] is just under 6%, down from 33% in 1977. Given that informed estimates suggest only a small proportion of victims report rape, should the conviction rate drop much lower, it really will be more than mere rhetoric to invoke a "right to rape," according to J. Conaghan, professor of law at the University of Kent.
So I quoted back in '04, in one of the first articles on this weblog. Unfortunately, we had to revisit that theme over the years, and things do not look bright in Blighty.
I'm mentioning this for historical context, for continuity. I'm mentioning this because it's literally "too close to home." And I'm also mentioning this in the hope of avoiding, when I write about Afghans later, the kneejerk reaction of, oh well, it's those crazy yellow people again, what do you expect, they're just not as enlightened as we are.
So, Afghans establish the Right to Rape. Yup, women are chattel. It's not just sexual self-determination, it's also that you can't even see a doctor without your owner's approval. Points for being upfront about it, though.
In other countries where you can't easily make that sort of shite official law (although it's altogether too close for comfort to make prostitution legal and require the unemployed to accept pretty much any job, with only the statement that nobody will be asked "that", but no out-and-out law to back that up), you need to push the rape culture from legal theory to legal practice. (Article in German about this rapist abducting a woman, and the police not checking his flat etc. when a witness calls in the case and they work out from the number plate that he's a known predator (prematurely paroled after raping and torturing a 16-year-old, then caught with a 13-year-old and child porn, but never charged). I know I like to recite the tired ol' when every second counts, the police are just minutes away, but I'll acknowledge it's inappropriate rhetoric. When every second counts, the police are just 18 hours behind. Because that's how long his recent victim's ordeal lasted, simply because the police could not be bothered to take action.)
The thing is, it's not the yellow people. When men here haggle about whether it's really rapeif she says yes and changes her mind, if you bully someone into it etc., it's exactly the same: I don't care about the woman's fun or feelings, I just want to get off and not go to jail for it.
The Afghan Right to Rape is more upfront about it. That is all.
«Typical permit requirements include residency, minimum age, submitting fingerprints, passing a background check, attending a certified handgun/firearms safety class, participating in a range check/qualification before a certified trainer (for demonstrating safe firearms handling and practical proficiency), and paying the required fee (if any).
Requirements also include certification that a person has never been diagnosed with a "mental illness," which include any condition which interferes with "normal life--" including trauma from being victim of prior crimes» —Wikipedia
Oh joy, once a victim, always a victim! It's almost like, say, how those who were abused as children often end up with abusive partners later on. Phrased like that, it's very much like those ancient laws where you get out of a rape charge by marrying the victim: Victimize someone, know they'll never (phrasing Wikipedia's) get the means to defend themself now, and know they're yours to victimize for the rest of their life now.
«The list of possible restrictions and obligations that can be included in a control order is long. It can place restrictions on what the person can use or possess, his place of work, place of residence, whom he speaks to, and where he can travel. Furthermore, the person can be ordered to surrender his passport, let the police visit his home at any time, report to officials at a specific time and place, and allow himself to be electronically tagged so his movements can be tracked.»
—Wikipedia; see also!
Pretty crass, huh? On the other hand, less than two dozen individuals were affected at any given time. Make of that what you will.
Somewhat spookily when I went to Amazon to look up the ratings for the now playing, the main page — before I'd entered anything, mind, like MDFMK, let alone Control — gave me a movie of the same name: Control, a biopic about Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis. Some coincidences are just freaky. ("What a useless scroll, all it says is «Hastur, Hastur, Hastur» …")
It's been a while; I've been out and about like crazy again. Which of course means I once more had need for sleep masks. Today's is, in fact, one of the first ones I ever bought, back before the grim meathook future where it's all about sleep. This is one of the playful ones that was half about sleep …
… and half about, Squeeeeeee! Sleepmask! I'll be like Audrey in "Breakfast at Tiffany's"!
Plush sleep mask.
Generously sized. Will probably cover your eyes.
Soft for a snug fit; likely won't move when you turn your head on the pillow.
Sufficiently large space for the nose so it doesn't press on it when worn.
It's white. Yes, even on the inside. I mean seriously, what were they thinking? If you open your eyes with the mask on, it's not dark. If that doesn't bother you, go ahead and buy this one, but in that case, you may not need a sleep mask in the first place.
Size not adjustable. One size fits most (if only just) elastic band. Fit a bit snug for my taste/head.
Space for nose somewhat large, and thus more likely to let in light.
Fluffy. You won't be wearing this in the dead of Summer.
Most men probably wouldn't be very comfortable wearing this in public, say, on a plane. But maybe, I should list this as good: You can signal you're very secure in your sexuality/gender.
The bit above is Għana; essentially, ancient Maltesebattlerap. I'm posting this video partially because Malta hasn't been British for quite a while, so using my usual "limeyCat" icon might give offense.
Now, Malta. It's nice and it's warm and most people there speak English. (And Maltese. And a host of other languages.) For all I know, it's not as overrun by yucky and/or lethal critters as Oz. But, there is no divorce legislation and abortion in Malta is illegal., Wikipedia says.
241. (1) Whosoever, by any food, drink, medicine, or by violence, or by any other means whatsoever, shall cause the miscarriage of any woman with child, whether the woman be consenting or not, shall, on conviction, be liable to imprisonment for a term from eighteen months to three years.
(2) The same punishment shall be awarded against any woman who shall procure her own miscarriage, or who shall have consented to the use of the means by which the miscarriage is procured.
So, they'll even prosecute the woman (not just the abortion-provider), if not for murder outright. Fear not though, they also dig into the providers especially in articles 243, 243A.
This bears further investigation as it's a sad fact that usually, characteristics of women-hating usually travel in droves. The legal texts show us, aside from such peculiarities as the White Slave Traffic (Suppression) Ordinance being followed by the Potato (Cultivation) Ordinance, this:
«Scottish notes are not legal tender anywhere in the UK, including Scotland where only the coins are legal tender. […] The Currency and Bank Notes Act 1954 defined Bank of England notes of less than £5 in value as legal tender in Scotland. Since the English £1 note was removed from circulation in 1988, this leaves a legal curiosity in Scots law whereby there is no paper legal tender in Scotland.»
«The United Kingdom legislation that introduced the 1 pound coin left no United Kingdom-wide legal tender banknote.»
«The pelican crossing was the first definitive light controlled crossing in the UK, introduced in 1969, after the earlier failed experiment of the panda crossing. Previously only zebra crossings had been used, which have warning signals (Belisha beacons), but no control signals. The pedestrian lights are situated on the far side of the road to the pedestrian. A puffin crossing has the lights on the same side as the pedestrian; a toucan crossing is a crossing for pedestrians and bicycles; a pegasus crossing allows horse-riders to cross as well. A HAWK beacon, used experimentally in the USA with a standard pedestrian crossing signal, stops traffic when a pedestrian pushes a button to cross, but goes dark unless activated.» —Wikipedia
I remember Spock was there. That is the only thing I know for certain. He was in bed with a Vulcan woman. He was complaining that the weapon, my choice, was too large. I had valued ferocity over concealment, the job of eliminating the mark over that of getting there undetected. I did not argue. I left, and procured a different weapon. I disguised myself and recorded our statement on a public communicator. I went to my lover. I do not remember who he was, but I do remember kissing him, telling him I loved him, surprising him with the substance that would knock him out and erase his memory. I remember taking the 'bracelets' off my upper arms where they had been resting for the last hour, learning my DNA. I remember leaving one on him, and the other on the small heap of items that could have incriminated me and that I left under his bed. The nanobots contained within would remove all traces of my DNA, then erase their own memory of my sequence. It would be impossible to find out later whether this was something somebody else did, or something he himself had done to throw the investigation off his track. Like it is impossible now to say for certain whether he ever was part of our cell, or just the fall guy. Even if he was part of our cell, can you really punish him for something he does not even remember?
I do not remember whether he ever knew about our plan. I do not remember loving him. I do not remember whether I ever did.
That is all I have to say.