Conspiracy of Silence

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The Rolling Stone magazine did a great article detailing known assault allegations against Don John, Predator-in-Chief.  I’m pretty ticked off about one aspect in particular, buying silence.

In particular, when a predator is done with his victim, he doesn’t want them to tell anyone else.  If the predator is rich enough, he hires a bunch of goons (lawyers) to give the victim money and a contract telling them to be silent.

The victim has sold their story, the truth, and their soul, along with their body.  They are no longer a victim, they are party to a contract.

The real victim becomes the truth.  And because the predator is still at large, more young women will come to harm.  The first victim has decided her pocketbook was more important than those other women’s dignity.

It makes sense that the predator himself wants his victims to remain silent, because it enables him to prey on others more easily.  If he’s rich enough, he can afford it.

But why doesn’t another rich person come along and buy out that contract?  For only a few extra dollars, the first victim can be just as rich, and the world would have her story.

Quid pro quo.  I’ll do you a favor if you do one for me.

If one rich person were to start doing this, than other rich people would do it to him.  As long as it’s only poor people who sell their voices, then the world of the rich is undisturbed.  But if one rich person were to come along and buy the truth, then someone richer would come along and buy stories embarrassing to him.

I’m confident that is how his lawyers would argue it with him.  I’m confident in this because to destroy the system of confidentiality agreements would also cut into the amount of money that lawyers make.  Anything that hurts their income is also one of the things they avoid.

Perhaps someone can crowd-fund social truth.  Perhaps.

Until we begin to truly value truth and values in society, we will continue to live in fear.  Women will be prey, alpha males will be predators.  We deify the rich and famous, ostracize the old and poor.

It’s better if we don’t talk about it.

After all, your silence is worth gold.

 

Buying Silence, Selling Truth

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The Rolling Stone magazine did a great article detailing known assault allegations against Don John, Predator-in-Chief.

The parts of it that make me angriest are those that purchase silence from the victims.

It makes sense that the predator himself wants his victims to remain silent, because it enables him to prey on others more easily.

But such agreements involve others, other men, other women.  These agreements involve parents of daughters, husbands, wives.  Why would these other people get involved in such a transgression of criminal activity?

For one thing, these other people we speak of are lawyers.  And lawyers are taught that ethics, morals, and the greater good are irrelevant.  The only things that matter are laws and verdicts.  The client’s interests are paramount, whether that client is a criminal, murderer, victim, or completely innocent.

Beyond agreements, there is also the ability to buy someone’s voice and become its owner.  The idea of “catch and kill” is something one of HIS friends has done to another woman who knew him.  She got money, he got silence.  She bought a house, he went on to harm another woman.

The women who remain silent, the women who sell their voices have their own conscience to contend with.  In some ways they can be considered almost as complicit as the predator himself.

They seem to be comfortable with selling their body, selling their tongue, even selling their soul.

Why not?  After all, it’s a free market.

Thanks for reading.

 

Scumbags Deserve Worse

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Recently a conservative cousin said women make up stories of assault for free publicity.

I find this belief incredible.  What’s going on in my cousin’s mind?

Maybe she thinks that when men become famous, publicity seeking women make up stories of how they were assaulted to get their names in the news.

Then why are there so many other “famous” men that don’t have hordes of publicity seeking women making up such stories?

Rhetorical question.  I know the answer, and there’s a good chance you do, too.

The stories are true.  The current man in power is a predator, a predator of women.

I can live with that.  After all, we study behavior.  We have to take what nature gives us.  The “majority” elected him, and he’s the head of the government.  Chances are he’s not the first predator-in-chief, and there’s a good chance he won’t be the last.

What can we do about it?

Here’s two names that have something in common: Natasha Stoynoff and Rachel Crooks.  Check out the article and you’ll find their names for the details.

These young women were assaulted by the Drumpf.  And they resisted.  Now their story is out there, but there is no proof.

Young women know they must be attractive.  Yet they have to avoid scumbags.  The chances of meeting a scumbag are excellent.  There’s a lot of them out there, and having a predator-in-chief only encourages them.

So what CAN we do about it?

 

Play along.  Go aggressive.  Pretend you actually like them.  That’s what predators really want.  Affirm their sexual appeal.  They think their very presence is a turn on.

Go ahead.  Turn them on.  Keep your head in high gear, your heart and hands under control, and resist the urge to scream or cry.

Here’s the hard part.  Turn the situation to your advantage.  Maneuver him into a room without his clothes on.  Put yourself into a safe room with a phone and lock the door and call police.  Make him take you someplace with cameras and then run.  Better yet, tie him up and throw all his clothes out the window.  Make sure to broadcast pictures of him first.

Are these bad things?  Of course.  Are they as bad as getting assaulted yourself?  Probably not.  Will they solve the problem?  Absolutely not.

But they will start changing the perception of helpless young women.  That’s what #MeToo is all about, recognizing and talking about the problem.

It’s time to fight back.

There’s a lot of men who aren’t scumbags, and they’ll support you.

Good luck.  And start practicing those knots.

 

Space isn’t big enough for: Space

Would you buy a hectare of moon for a single credit?

How about a million hectares for the same price?

There’s a LOT of moon, and that means there could be a lot of moon to sell.

More importantly for our first colonists, however, is the cost of LIVABLE real estate.

You could own the whole moon, but you’re only going to live on a little bit of it.

And since you can’t sleep outside very long, you’re going to need a roof,

and walls,

vacuum seals,

oxygen generators,

carbon dioxide scrubbers,

and, well, you get the picture.  Living on the moon is going to be very expensive.  It’s going to be way more expensive than living in downtown Tokyo, Manhattan, and London combined.

Do you know anyone who lives in those places?  If so, then you know that they also live under the following conditions:

Small rooms, thin walls, annoying neighbors, and lots of rules of things that they can’t do.

So, imagine what we’ve figured out.  The moon, cheapest real estate in the universe, yet has the most expensive livable real estate in the universe.  You’ll live in space, where there is no horizon, yet you’ll be able to reach out and touch both of your walls.

Infinite space, yet no place for claustrophobia.

Who knew?

 

Space isn’t big enough for: Inches

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Long ago, back when caves were considered prime real estate, we measured things using our fingers and feet.

More recently, we started defining the best units to use for learning.  There’s this outfit that helps the whole world get its act together.  They work very slowly, and nothing they do is mandatory.  That’s too bad, because the world has a lot of crazy stuff going on.

The world’s largest economy still uses old measurements based on units that don’t convert easily.  Quick, how many inches in a rod?  How about in a mile?

Do the same thing using the metric system.  Badabing!  Easy peasy.

Guess what?  If you’re an American dreaming of living on the moon, you better pack your undies and your sun-tan lotion (SPF 500!), but leave your feet and inches behind.

There’s not enough room.

 

 

Space isn’t big enough for: French

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As I study French using this great app, I come to a fairly sad realization.

Il n’y a pas de place pour la langue.

Even though space is large, mind-bendingly large, our first colonies aren’t going to be big enough for more than one language.

Imagine there being some kind of emergency, like trying to find the jam in the fridge, and you have to call out without thinking.  What if you used the wrong language?

Alright, maybe looking for jam isn’t the best example.  What if your rocket malfunctions and you need to get help immediately?  Hadn’t everyone better be on the same frequency?  As in knowing how to talk?

Learning french is fun.  The way they organize their thoughts are a bit different from the way us American English people normally do it.  But that’s what makes life here on Earth fun.  If I go to France and order some bread and cheese, but end up with a duck and ketchup, it’s only a moment of embarrassment.

Do the same thing on the moon, and it’s many times worse.  Alright, the bread and cheese example is, cheesy, but you get the picture.  Mistakes on the moon are extremely costly, and speaking more than one language comes with a price.

Sacre bleu!

 

 

 

 

Space isn’t big enough for: Mistakes

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Know of anyone hanging a picture on the wall and puncturing their water pipes?

Or using the toilet and maybe having to yell for toilet paper?  Or maybe the plunger?

Being “only human” means that we know we’re going to make mistakes.

Making a mistake here on planetoid Earth is relatively cheap.  Need the plunger?  Go and get it, take your time.

Now take that toilet and put it on the moon.  Not easy, is it?  Costs quite a bit, doesn’t it?  Maybe there’s only one seat for a whole lot of people.  Better be careful!

Oh oh.  Maybe a bit too much pastrami.  Did I break it?

Better not.  There’s nothing else, nowhere else to go!  Lots of people lining up, and now there no happiness to be had.  What’s going to happen now?

 

That’s only the toilet.

Now, what if you hang that picture, but you put a hole where it shouldn’t be, and you lose your air?  Or if the door doesn’t open right, or if the whole roof is going to fall in?

The kind of little mishaps we shrug off as minor become major mashups when you get up there.  The moon may be smaller than the Earth, and the colony may only have a small number of people, but mistakes would be much more expensive.

So, if you think about moving to the moon sometime, make sure to pack your bandaids and duck tape.  But leave your mistakes behind.

Space isn’t big enough.

 

Space isn’t big enough for: Junk

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You may have heard that space is big.  Space people like to remind us that space is big.

By big they mean really big.

Really very mucho super big.

Big deal.

Someday, if you like to dream, then maybe people will live in space.  Maybe not in space, but on the moon or mars.  Living in space would be hard because you still need to stand on something.

There’s this problem.  We don’t live there.  Yet.

If we’re going to live in space, then someone is going to have to make the first step.

Pretend we’re going to live on the moon.  Is there going to be a cushy sofa in every Lunar Living Room?  Or will the furniture be a bit more, rocky?

There’s going to be a lot of things that will have to be different.  Very different from what we like to see in the movies.

If we study behavior, these are things we should think about before we try Lunar living.

After all, the cost of a ticket to the moon is high, and we have to pack light.  That means we can only take the essentials.

Space just isn’t big enough for junk.

 

 

 

 

A Tale of Two Yogas

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My wife and I attend a small studio up the street.  She has deep knowledge of musculature.  The poses are gentle, our progress slow, in a cozy, comfortable environment.

Across the street is a bustling studio with 4 large rooms, the coolest one being 30 degrees centigrade (85F).  Some classes go up as high as 40C (105F).  That’s hot.

When I say bustling, I mean bustling.  Not like wearing a bustle, but like being super busy.  Which is pretty good for our small town.  There’s over 15 classes a day!  And the classes have all the latest trends, bikram, barre, and whatever.

Not only that, but the classes are an hour long.  Perfect for scheduling into your busy day.

Meanwhile, in our little space, you spend the first half hour getting warmed up, the next getting into the practice, and another one figuring it all out and cooling down.

Cooling down.  That’s important.  You can’t do that in heat.  In order to listen to your body properly, you have to let it speak to you.  That’s not going to happen in an extreme environment.  Your body is working to keep you cool, and that throws all your inner workings out of wack.  Sure, you feel better, for the moment, but what did you learn?

A good yoga class is a true class.  You will come away with a nugget of knowledge, a new insight into yourself.

The trend towards fast, hot, trendy yoga is surely a money maker for the studio.  But what does it lead towards?

Students who want hotter, faster, trendier solutions to their problems.

The ultimate?

I see a drive-thru studio that offers a quick yoga drink and a semi-mystic experience while you sit in your car.  Perhaps like the drive-in diners of the 1950s.  Scantily clad roller skating yogis will bring everything to you and your friends as you sit in the comfort of your SUV.

Or you could slow down, and get to know yourself.  Not trendy, not hot, not even hard.  Just right.  Just perfect.

But if you’re planning to make it to 70, 80, or 90, you’ll appreciate it.

Otherwise, you’ll be taking plenty of pills.

Ommm.

 

First Gift, Final Gift

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I’ve had a glimpse of how our society deals with death.  I spent ten days with Dad in a wonderful hospice house.  We spent the first half getting the pain meds out of his system, and the other half getting him strong enough so he could leave the place.

I spent many hours with him as cheerleader, advocate, and caregiver trainee.  However, there were many hours where he slept, so I got to know everyone.

What impressed me most was how many workers and volunteers truly care about their mission.  They are unsung, so I’m singing about them now.

However, there are also so many patients, mostly alone.  They were waiting.  Waiting to die.

Here’s the surprise.  Some of them are done.  As a gift to their children, they are content to hasten the process.

If you’re shocked, or sad, you should know that is how I felt.  At first.  When I listened to their stories it becomes obvious that many people are giving themselves up so that they are no longer a burden to their children.

It’s a wonderful gift.  It’s their decision.  And my only regret is that I’m not sure how many of those children appreciate that decision, that final gesture.

Creating a baby is only the first step to what will be a lifetime of joy.  But there are so many hard hours ahead.  Children who grow up tend to appreciate the gift of life given by their parents.

But the second greatest gift can be found at the end.  It is the parent letting go, and letting their child be free of their burden.  It’s sad to see them go, but it’s also a chance to celebrate their life and begin looking forward again.

To all those unsung parents who have sacrificed much during their lives, and then at the very end, life itself, for the benefit of their children, I thank you.

We should all thank them.

The best way to do that is to never forget them.

Mom and Dad.