Rape Culture

I remind everyone, and myself, that in spite of living in a rape culture where the denials of powerful, privileged men still work just fine in cases of doubt, where the indiscretions of the inebriated privileged are weighed on a different scale, there are two rounds of voting before even the elite partisan Brett Kavanaugh can get on to the Supreme Court.   The Republicans should really kill this one in committee, rather than brazening it out in the full Senate for a confirmation vote.   Not likely because Republicans are now ideologically against abortion in all cases, even in the case of an extreme monstrosity.

The first vote will apparently be tomorrow morning, in the Judiciary Committee composed of 11 Republicans and 10 Democrats, expected to be a straight 11-10 vote to put Kavanaugh’s name up for a vote by the full Senate where Republicans appear to be doubling down in hopes of brazening out a robust 51-49 confirmation.   If Jeff Flake, or perhaps the high-minded Ben Sasse, has a moment of conscience over night, Kavanaugh goes down in the committee, crying, by that same 11-10 margin.  It’s anybody’s guess right now, though one presumes Grassley made sure he had the 11 votes before committing to the full committee vote tomorrow at 9:30 a.m..

If it gets to the full Senate it will be fascinating to watch those six female Republicans, (though most come from locked down right wing Republican strongholds) and picture their moral dilemmas as the 51-49 majority is being whipped into shape by the Whip.  The Whip says even if Kavanaugh is less than 100% truthful, even if he is, as said by his Yale roommate, a mean, aggressive drunk, even if he did once, but only once, when he was really, really fucked up.., never mind… nobody can prove that.  

It didn’t happen, it never happened, nothing happened, but if it did happen it was nothing, really, really nothing, even if it did happen to happen that one time, decades ago, a time I have no recollection of because I used to get that drunk when I was really happy back in the Jesuit school.  As I had them print on my yearbook page, I don’t recall who won that Orioles game or who the other team was.  Who cares?

Christine Blasey Ford testified, credibly, sympathetically and without any doubt, about a sexual assault and the identity of the man who tried to rape her one long ago summer evening in high school.   Dr. Ford even quickly explained the science of how photographic memories of traumatic moments are indelibly frozen in the hippocampus.   The most traumatic single thing she can’t get out of her head from that evening was the uproarious laughter of Kavanaugh and football teammate and fellow Renate Alumnius [sic], toxic buddy Mark Judge as they stumbled back downstairs after Kavanaugh’s ballsy rape attempt gone awry.   No reason to hear from Judge, the other guy in the room during the attempted rape, he’s already sworn that Blasey Ford is a liar.

The man she’d identified as one of the two drunken boys, President Trump’s nominee for Associate Supreme Court Justice, came into the hearing angry, defiant, prissy, insisting that he was the victim, he was the one under attack, that it was his good name being destroyed, his dreams they were trying to crush, his life being ruined, and the lives of his family, and the lives of every American who believes in democracy.    He put on a tour de force of judicial character, lashing out at everybody, imagining vicious partisan conspiracies like the ones he’s taken part in, acting like a drunk prep school asshole for the international TV audience.

Judicial character, yo.   He bullied everyone in the room who suggested he didn’t want the fair process he’d called for, tried to stare them down, with that smug, supremely punchable face.   He looked, whenever he felt cornered, every bit the entitled, intemperate, belligerent handsy drunk he’s been depicted as.  The kind of stupid drunk who would hold his hand over a squirming girl’s mouth and drunkenly struggle to get her one piece bathing suit off.   Looking at his poorly restrained anger, it was easy to picture him saying “no means yes and yes means anal,” and laughing mirthlessly about it with the macho little turds he got drunk with in prep school.  It’s what the football team at an elite all-boys school does, perform rituals of toxic masculinity for each other.

He was very sorry about the woman, Dr. Blasey Ford, he said, and held nothing against her, it was the evil Democrats sneakily and viciously trying to get revenge against him for things like his zeal in the Clinton sex impeachment, his role in stopping the Florida recount in 2000, his advising Bush and Cheney on the legality of the torture program, and extrajudicial killing by drone, the classification of 90% of his writings, the whole sick well-funded Democrat partisan attack machine, but he had never tried to rape her, not even one time, or anyone else, even after he’d had several beers.  He liked beer, still does, beer, just beer, nothing stronger than a good old American beer, like everybody in America likes to drink.

She might think that she was 100% sure it is his leering face indelibly implanted in her hippocampus, but she was wrong.  It 100% was not him, 100%.  He might have had a lot of beer on some of those high school nights (too drunk to remember scores of several sporting events he attended while at Georgetown Prep, as he fondly recalled on his yearbook page), but it wasn’t him, no way, no fucking way you goddamned godless fucking fucks!   He was 100% sure that it could not possibly have been him who tried to rape this woman, and would subject himself to absolutely any investigation Republican committee chairman Chuck Grassely would call for.  

He didn’t blame Blasey Ford, a well-meaning but sadly mistaken tool of bitter, lying partisans, maliciously lying in wait until the very last minute, their hearts filled with hatred, thirsting for injustice, intent on a personal vendetta against him, upon decency itself.

“These are last-minute smears, pure and simple. They debase our public discourse. And the consequences extend beyond any one nomination. Such grotesque and obvious character assassination — if allowed to succeed — will dissuade competent and good people of all political persuasions from serving our country.”

That’s Trump fucking nominee there all right.  No doubt.  The president is very proud of the angry, brazenly lying bitch, can see a lot of himself in the boy.   You can practically see Trump nodding along as his nominee indignantly expresses how personally aggrieved he is by the unbearable unfairness that is being perpetrated against him.   Then he defiantly stated that he will not back down, never, will fight to the end to protect our great democracy by taking his place on the Supreme Court, the job he was born and bred to have for the rest of his lifetime.

I texted my sister “the partisan doth protest too much, methinks,” and then he started crying.   He was literally crying, that frustrated, entitled boy being so unfairly, and so falsely, challenged by such a compelling witness, and so close to the lifelong prize he’d been groomed for since before his prep school days!   Frustrating!    In front of this nation he loves, in front of his wife and his parents (present live in the room as he defended his good name), the emotion of the moment overcame him and he began to sob as he told a story about his Christlike ten year-old daughter.   He had to pause while he cried, gather himself.  

I thought the tears were a nice touch, especially considering that Christine Blasey Ford, the actual victim of his drunken piggishness, had put on such a brave yet meek face and held it together so admirably, spoke with such humility as she faced a hostile committee of ossified white men too intimidated by the optics of the situation to ask her anything, but pressing on with a female prosecutor.

That Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony was completely credible is beyond dispute.   Kavanaugh’s crying didn’t make his bullying, self-pitying act any easier to watch, I have to say.   He lied some more, very indignantly.   He blurted a false claim during his opening rant, trying to discredit Dr. Ford by claiming that her friend had said she was wrong, that there never was a gathering like the one she remembers:

…Kavanaugh claimed that Christine Blasey Ford’s friend, Leland Keyser, “refuted” her account of the party she was assaulted at by Brett Kavanaugh. In fact, Keyser has only said that she does not recall the event but believes Ford’s allegation.    source

He said, she said, now it’s time to vote.  

The Republican men of the Judicial Committee are cowards, hiding behind the skirts of a woman they brought in to speak for them, for the optics, the optics, we must do the opposite of Biden with Anita Hill.   We don’t talk at all, we get a female mouthpiece, for the optics, the optics.   The female prosecutor in the end was hard-pressed to impeach the credibility of an extremely candid witness.   Blasey Ford was an extremely sympathetic witness, by the end of her testimony every fair minded person in the world believed her story, including, it seemed, the sympathetic sex crimes prosecutor herself.

 To state the obvious once more — Christine Blasey Ford had nothing to gain and has already lost a good deal by coming forward.   The Republican men of the committee apparently gathered during the long recess to coordinate their hissy fit for the afternoon session when the nominee would deny all this uncorroborated testimony and they would rally around him like the fucking blindly partisan pussies they are. The Republican men exploded in indignation after Kavanaugh went into brainlock when Dick Durbin pressed him about sitting for an FBI investigation.   Kavanaugh was literally slack-jawed when challenged about why he won’t ask for an FBI investigation.   Angry Republican men began snarling on his behalf.  The female prosecutor, their mouthpiece, didn’t utter another word the rest of the way.

The Democrats aren’t much better than the Republicans, of course, though not quite as vicious, organized or implacable when it comes to how they wage war.   Republicans will do anything, they’re not concerned with grace, or looking bad, not afraid to look clumsy, desperate, tone deaf, immoral, they will pay any short term price (usually make others, the Takers, pay the price) for the final victory.  Individually they may be fine people, very fine people, the finest people and some very classy people, very classy ladies and gentlemen.   As a pack, the extreme right, our current Republican party, tend to run in lockstep, disciplined, following their leader without condition, unconstrained by ethics, conscience, moral qualms, the appearance of fairness, decency and many other things most good people take for granted.   Soldiers of their cause, power to the people, that small sliver of the very best people who deserve it most, the best of the best.   People like Brett Kavanaugh.

A friend told me the other day he thinks radical Republicans (the only kind we have at the moment) are mentally ill.   I didn’t have any good arguments against this proposition.   The best we can say is that they care only about themselves and that their elected representatives are acutely self-interested and not ashamed to march in a parade of powerfully stinking, bullying clowns, as long as they retain power.   

The stench of this confirmation farce to get the most extreme partisan hack yet quickly put up, for life, on the nation’s highest court, is powerful.   It’s not like anyone is accusing the man of smoking pot!   That guy, Douglas Ginsberg, Ronald Reagan’s nominee, stepped down when it came out he’d smoked marijuana. Nothing that serious has been alleged against good Christian Brett Kavanaugh.  Therefore, it was up to the eleven angry men to speak up for what is right, and true, and fuck you!  Lindsay Graham, a hissy douche-bag who finally couldn’t contain himself, after being so fair and listening so fairly to everything, finally had heard enough, eventually went berserk.

Lindsay Graham 2018-09-28 at 12.48.55 AM

These middle aged and old white guys are the victims, always, and they are so fucking sick of being nice guys about it.  Goddamn it!  Jesus Christ himself wouldn’t sit still for this kind of fucking bullshit!

The 11-10 Republican Committee plans to vote first thing tomorrow, brazen it out full stink, shoot the moon, fuck the bitches and their credible sympathetic fucking testimony.  A fair process, now, a fair process, immediately!   Before any more of these lying jezebels come forward, claiming more lies against this most excellent, most deserving man. 

Will be interesting to see, assuming he makes it out of the committee, and then somehow makes it to a full vote, if any of the 51 Republicans will find a spine, or a modicum of shame, if the women in the Senate, the six Republicans, between them will find a pair of ovaries.  

If this asshole gets an up and down vote next week,and somehow gets to 51 votes, it will be quite a triumph for rape culture.  Hopefully its last triumph before a united front of decent people sweep these scumbags out of power.    Either way, this jerk-off will have a lot of time, in his old age, to cry over the fate his pathetic behavior has already ensured for the little girl, now ten, who made him cry today, for love of her gentle little soul, in that moment of human frailty in front of a live audience of many millions.


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