Greetings all! I didn't want the week to wrap up without making a post, but I honestly have very little to talk about owing to my ongoing news embargo and a sedentary lifestyle. Which has been even more sedentary this week because of a pinched nerve in my back that spontaneously erupted in a moment of high frustration when working on my taxes. Which immediately raises two important questions: first, can I deduct a tube of Ben-Gay as a legitimate tax-related expense and second, why the hell hasn't Ben-Gay either changed its potentially offensive name or hired Dylan Mulvaney as a spokesperson?
|I asked A.I. to generate a picture of a man with back pain but forgot to specify "not horrifying."
When not cursing the IRS, TurboTax, and whatever dark forces summoned them into being, I've been working on the landscaping around here, continuing to stick random plants in the ground in hopes that they'll grow into something Kathy would approve of. This involves a large element of random chance because I still don't know what I'm doing out there, but I'm assured that spending time outdoors communing with nature is very good for a person's mental health if they're unaware of the risk of skin cancer.
But back to today's post. I feel weird about just showing up and waving at everyone, so I'm also inviting you to join me for a trip down memory lame. Because Trump is currently embroiled in a civil court action in which writer E. Jean Carroll is renewing her accusations that Trump raped her many, many years ago. Which makes it feel appropriate for us to look back a few years to see what I had to say about the situation...
FROM THE VAULT
It's been a remarkably consistent week for President Trump: he was going to obliterate Iran, then it didn't happen. He was going to have ICE raids on illegals all over the country, then it didn't happen. And now he's been accused of rape by a woman selling a book about how awful men are, and we're pretty damn sure it didn't happen either.
Advice columnist E. Jean Carroll who, in her spare time, conducts twice-weekly walking tours disparaging "The Most Hideous Men of New York City," claims that in "1975 or 1976," Trump was overcome with lust for her while they shared a dressing room in the Bergdorf Goodman department store. Both were fully clothed at the time (she never even dropped her handbag), but Carroll claims that Trump managed to hold her against a wall while simultaneously unzipping his fly and pulling down her tights, after which he "thrust his penis halfway - or completely, I'm not certain - inside me." After which she pushed him aside, ran from the dressing room, and cleverly escaped on a slow-moving escalator without alerting anyone at the store or mentioning it in public for a quarter century.
Ms. Carroll, the author of the coincidentally just-released "What Do We Need Men For?", denies Donald Trump's claim that she's lying to sell more books and states categorically that she's telling the absolute truth and has only come forward to revitalize her career as a fading porn star and stripper. No, wait - that was Stormy Daniels, the only woman on the "gentleman's club" circuit who has to give 75¢ in change to anyone who tucks a dollar bill in her g-string.
Ms. Carroll says that she has no intention of filing charges against President Trump, because she "would find it disrespectful to the women who are down on the border who are being raped around the clock down there without any protection. It would just be disrespectful."
So as a famous and celebrated advice columnist, she would tell women not to report being raped in order to show respect to other women who are getting raped?! We should definitely get into the "advice columnist" racket, as apparently the entry requirements are pretty much nonexistent.
Rape is a very serious matter, but the sad epidemic of rape taking place at our southern border could be greatly reduced by closing the borders as Trump wants to do, rather than having liberals keep them wide open as an enticing lure to women and children...and their rapists.
And we've been told, repeatedly, that every woman who cries rape needs to be believed without question. Sadly, the circus of wild unsubstantiated lies at the Kavanaugh confirmation hearings has made that an exceedingly foolish thing to do. For which actual rape victims who are disbelieved can thank political hatchet-wielders like Gloria Allred, Michael Avenatti, Senate Democrats and, we're betting, E. Jean Carroll.