So I don’t like Brett Kavanagh. He looks like a creepy, smarmy, stop at nothing type. A privileged member of some naked bar slide fraternity, a lude comments dude, who between swatting for school and subsequently his Yale College cum laude in American history, would still find the time to be a greasy sexual predator.
He is worthy of accusation. Just look at him. How can he not be? Now Christine Blasey Ford Ford on the other hand is a woman, therefore a victim. She must be right.
Ok, done. Don’t mind the presumption of innocence, evidence even.
Who needs a criminal justice system when we can just exercise, personal dislikes and assumption in an outbreak of #imwithher.
The most tantalizing trial in the US since OJ Simpson, has a new hero. Christine Blasey Ford seems to be the toast of the liberal elite for delivering allegations, rather than an actual conviction.
Obviously, #metoo and similar movements have helped women come forward and standing up to creepy sexual pigs and rapists, which is crucial, but since victimhood has become fetishised by society, it is used as a political tool, and very often not actually helping real victims. The current sex panic has been sensationalised in order to character assassinate Kavanaugh in a case of weaponised #metoo.
Ultimately, the FBI investigation will determine whether there’s a case or cases to answer, but in the meantime, none of us were at said party on July 1st 1982, so we have no idea what happened. We will never know the full details, as memory is a tricky thing. It lives in the same house as imagination.
If were to try to get my friends to recall what I was wearing last Saturday, I’d get a different description from all of them, especially with booze involved, but it seems in this era where victimhood is more coveted than truth, facts don’t matter.
Mass hysteria has set in. I was just reading a social media post asking women how they would feel about a 9pm curfew for men. Their responses were predictable: ‘I’d be free, no one would chat me up, my life would be amazing etc.” For me it would be terrible. awful in fact. My male friends are the craic. Plus men, who are violent, sexual beasts will perpetrate sexual, feral acts at home.
Why after all this good work, are women imprisoning themselves, holding themselves back, judging? Womens non fiction is dominated by ‘ustoo’ inspirational codswallop. ‘Let’s be victims of too much food, too many Pinot Grigios, crying in the shower together, we’re depressed, anxious, at the mercy of the evil patriarchy. You’re not alone. All girls are like this.’ It’s insulting. Grotesque even.
In his book, The Rise of Victimhood Culture, Bradley Campbell, Associate Professor of Sociology at California State University says: “People in a victimhood culture are high sensitivity to slight. They’re quite touchy, and always vigilant for offenses. Insults are serious business, and even unintentional slights might provoke a severe conflict.”
How is that progress? Women should not buy into this. We are not living in the Victorian era.
I’ve had #enough. I don’t like Brett Kavanaugh, and I don’t like sexual predators or rapists, but I don’t like this cult of victimhood that is bleeding into society, making women out to be weak whimpering, scared, fearful, cry babies, a sisterhood of scar tissue, who can’t get over themselves. It has to stop.
If this alleged incident with Mr Kavanaugh was the worst thing that happened to Ms Ford, as its made out, then her life hasn’t been that bad.