Coming to terms with the onslaught of confessions, accusations, denials by those famous or at least well known and their crimes against women and men has become exhausting. I need a spread sheet, or at least a diagram one uses to chart one's family hierarchy to somehow keep up with the never ending names of perpetrators and victims. At times I feel as if I am watching Game of Thrones only in real time. Bring me my Dragons!
We are told repeatedly to believe victims and yet we know people lie. So who is lying and who are the liars and why are they lying? Well the Washington Post found out recently that yes women lie but they beat her to the punch with what is called as investigating. Why do that when they can just hook you up to a machine and see if you are telling the truth? There is no such thing as a lie detector well there is but it like the science that created it by the man who did is junk. I know as a man asked me to take one once and he was my Lawyer, Kevin Trombold, when I too found myself a victim. I often think of myself more of his victim and those of the staff at Harborview than I ever did at the hands of Shar my date, as he never finished the job.
I watched as Ted Vosk (other Lawyer) when he called the number of Shar using Kevin Trombold's office phone which undoubtedly came up on the Caller Id warning him, and only afterwards go "Whoops, I should not have done that!" Then during trial ask me about a conversation I had with Blair Russ the former associate of Trombold that I disclosed a positive test for an STD. I was told I had Herpes and given a prescription for a drug that I refused to take as I was unclear how I had something of which I had no symptoms. Later when I went to a larger facility and spent cash to ensure no record, found that I had Herpes Simplex I, not vaginal herpes, which without a specific test to distinguish the two it registers positive for Herpes. Which I suspected was true and in fact made sense given my dental history and infections, but none on the vaginal region nor any symptoms whatsoever to confirm that diagnosis. But by that time it was too late and these two assholes ran with that, disclosing private medical data which I did not consent to disclosing, and use this through my trial. Which they continued to use it on appeal of which it had no place nor bearing. Their explanation was that it was to garner sympathy. Try focusing on legal issues and not personal ones dipshit. Ah Kevin Trombold the Opie of Lawyers. Incompetent but always fakely nice.
The men in this scenario, Ted Vosk, Blair Russ, Kevin Trombold were far more transfixed on my sexual history than any man I have ever been with.
Victim, survivor, liar, truth teller, bitch, whore, drunk, crazy all names that I was called at that time and after awhile you run out of euphemisms in which to be described. And once the names run out and the money does, no one cares anymore. There is no reckoning for those who have no fame, no money, no other name in which to be called.
The perpetrator, the predator, the man has only one name - man. It seems to be an excuse, an explanation, a justification for why men are just men or boys will be boys. Ah so many expressions that seem to explain the male character. Are there that many for women? When I tried to find them I found instead hundreds of synonyms for women and after losing count I thought of the Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler and thought if my vagina could talk what would it say?
Is this a reckoning when men finally face the fact that they are all predators. They all care about the hunt and in the deep recesses of the brain is the cave man and in turn they want nothing more to eat and fuck and sleep. Throw in football or some other sport and they are good and women are there on the sidelines in every sense of the word.
But about women who are our own worst enemy. Who have been taught at early age it matters what people think of you, how well you care for yourself and others means your man and your children. Abuse is expected and in turn not exposed for you risk it all. There are Doctors who pull your skin to freakish levels, who engorge your breasts and tighten your vagina to make you more of a woman. If I am every woman who do I believe? Who is the woman in me?
The lyrics, the songs, the dreams the movies tell us the stories we need to believe. Yet is is those who bring us their stories are leading ones behind those screens that contradict those stories or would be in fact more horror and less romance. Was I too a victim of those tales? Did I believe the song lyrics, the movies, the books that told of the castle, the prince, the hero who would rescue me from what I do not know. A life alone, a live unloved? Well I am alive despite the fact that one said Prince did his best to ensure that might not be a reality.
That story, that book is one not written. It is a tale that I carry within and when I try to tell it I see the faces, the looks, the expressions of disbelief that make it seem as if I am lying, exaggerating or simply just mad. Yes I am mad alright for that expression, "that what does not kill you makes you stronger" is just another bill of false goods. No it makes you angrier. Anger is a both fuel and a balm. It lights my energy and in turn keeps me alive and when it burns too close or too hot I use it to calm me to remind me that without it I would not be alive. Fire is life as they on the show Survivor and I am that name too - survivor.
But we have a moment of reckoning when we have to admit our guilt, own our evil and spill our pain. Nothing will come of it and some will lose their jobs, they will be vilified and then what?
Women and Men need to shut up and put it all in their pants and take a moratorium on fucking. That might solve some of it.