Admitted Guilt

Ten years ago (!), I wrote something about the fact that there's an annoying tendency in society to not believe rape victims - and a lot of recent verdicts (all around the globe) just confirm that sad trend.

But some nutcases do exist, and one such nutcase is making my blood boil as a State channel will broadcast a documentary followed by a debate, and even though there's a recording of the female accuser taunting her male partner and telling him that no one would believe that he was the victim, the presentation of the documentary exclusively blames male supporters of the accused man, who, according to them, orchestrated a hate campaign against the female accuser.

I've read as many things as possible on the topic (you know, that tendency I have to do my homework), and I know what it's like to be in the claws of a twisted manipulator, and I am convinced that the girl is the monster of this story and that she abused the victims' handbook in the hope to profit from the situation because the world was to stand on the side of the woman. 

Now, seeing a State channel taking the side of the accuser only because she's a woman looks a bit like some "woke" agenda - and it bugs me; they should report the truth and admit that she single-handedly brought the cause of women back decades with her antics.

We're not out of the wood, and true victims will have to fight even more because of that one liar, and it makes me terribly angry.

Chivalry?... What Chivalry?

Even before we were stuck at home, I work a lot at night (it's quiet and I can focus on plot bunnies and research).

Since the weather's a tad nicer these days, when I do go to bed (between 5 and 7 am), I open my blackout curtains, open the window and listen to the birds (the seagulls make me believe that I'm by the sea - I'm not).

Sometimes, I see people going to work this early.

Last night, there was this young woman walking uphill (either she works at the nearby hospital - or somewhere - or she was going to catch a bus or the tube). Walking downhill was this young bloke.

The pavement there is very, very narrow. Now, guess who moved to walk on the road...? Yup! The young lady.

Of course, the traffic so early and with so few cars around was not really an issue, but the boy did not even try to do anything. He just kept walking as if he owned the pavement.

It's not that chivalry's dead. I think it was mostly ever only in books to make a few blokes look good - and yes, I'm tired and angry. Why?

Who Wrote That? A "Women of NCIS" Post

Once upon a time, I was watching JAG...

... so I started watching NCIS when it was created, and I started watching NCIS: Los Angeles when it was created, and then NCIS: New Orleans, as well.

Today?

I think I've had enough, and if I want to be honest, the biggest clue was there from the moment the future NCIS team was featured in JAG (Ice Queen, s08e20): I flinched when the ME, Dr Donald Mallard (David McCallum) was so unpleasant with a female agent and judgemental about the female victim on his slab.

Example 1:

Dr Donald Mallard: How about dinner tonight after the autopsy?
Special Agent Vivian Blackadder: I never date men old enough to be my father, Ducky.
Dr Donald Mallard: Agent Blackadder reminds me of a young woman I autopsied once.  

Because it's all right to compare a woman to an old corpse when she turns you down (for whatever frigging reason!)

Example 2:  
Dr Donald Mallard: [flirting while performing an autopsy] You sure you won't have dinner with me?
Special Agent Vivian Blackadder: Oh, Ducky, you're disgusting!  
Dr. Donald Mallard: The pursuit of sex is an affirmation of life, Vivian. That's why older men are so lascivious.

Seriously? Eugh!!! 

Example 3:  
Mallard is told that the dead officer, who was pregnant, was also single. His reaction?
Dr. Donald Mallard: [addressing the dead victim] Shame on you.  

Now, that's classy and such a modern thing to say in an episode that was aired on April 22^nd 2003!

Of course, it was just the "introduction" of these characters, and the writers needed to fine-tune the new voices for these characters, but I think it was a sign of things to come.

As in:

- On December, 16^th 2005 (Twilight, s02e23), the beloved Caitlin Todd (Sasha Alexander) is shot in the head. You can't get more violent and final than this, and why? Because the actress wished to leave the show.

Payback: Kate Todd is annihilated.

- On May, 20^th 2008 (Judgment Day Part 1, s05e18), the female director of NCIS, Jennifer Shepard (Lauren Holly), is killed - after being diagnosed with something nasty that was taking its toll on the character. 
The character's authority had been undermined from the start: Gibbs (Mark Harmon) was seldom an obedient subordinate and he ends up burning her flat in order to cover a blunder of hers.

- On October 1^st 2013 (Past, Present, and Future, s11e02), Ziva David (Cote de Pablo) leaves the show. Her character had been manipulated by her father and ordered to shoot her half-brother so she could come close to Gibbs to spy on him. She was also tortured after being abducted by terrorists.

On February, 10^th 2017 (Family First, s13e24), Tony DiNozzo (Michael Weatherly, who said he wanted to leave to widen his acting skills and was given  his own series) leaves.

His father's character will be invited in several episodes afterwards, and his character will be mentioned several times, as well.

How did the writers make DiNozzo leave? Ziva had a daughter with him (and she was such an utter bitch that she never told him) and now that Ziva died in a fire, he must be the hero, become a single father and raise his daughter? Even if Cote de Pablo left because she was disappointed with the scripts for her character, it reeks of sexist payback to have her burnt to a crisp so a man can leave to go play the main character in his own, brand new series. They couldn't even put her in a coma. No. The ungrateful bitch had to die - some horrible death.

- When Elenor Bishop (Emily Wikersham) joins NCIS (Gut Check, s11e09), her character's different, odd - innovative. She's quickly told (by Gibbs) to change her ways. Her husband was swell, but he goes and cheats on her. She finds love again - and he's murdered. Go on, pile up nastiness on her!

- Alexandra Quinn (Jennifer Esposito) was only in Season 14. She didn't return to Season 15 and there never was a proper explanation. Not even another character saying 'I phoned Quinn, and her mom's doing better' (as the mother's early onset of Alzheimer's seems to be the favourite theory - amongst fans... Not a word from the writers!).

- Delilah Fielding-McGee (Margo Harshman), a strong character, is hurt so badly in a missile attack that she ends up in a wheelchair. She's still a tough cookie, but she had to be hurt (no, it's not for the sake of drama; it's sexist writing, and - let's admit it - a part of the writers' childish bullying campaign against the McGee character).

- Gibbs and Fornell's ex-wife, Diane Sterling (Melinda McGraw), was always portrayed as a class A bitch. Surprise: she's killed like Kate.

- And now (Two Steps Back, s15e22), the kind-hearted Pauley Perrette was probably forced to leave because of physical violence on set? I believe her.

What makes me believe her? She's got nothing to gain by lying - and it's not as if it's the first time a loaded Suit does whatever he wants, is it? 
I've seen some people say they don't believe her because she fought with her ex-husband (and they clearly sided with him) and - and that's a bit rich! - because she reported being attacked by a homeless man and they don't believe her because of the way she told her story (!).
I've also seen some commenters demand that she gives a name or they won't believe her. Perfect! Try to bully her. A survivor speaks when she (or he) is ready. Some commenters demand to have a name so they can know that it's not any of the actors (if bipeds paid attention they'd properly read what she said, and they would know that it's some executive).
On top of the way the producers and the studios could not protect her, there's the way she was written out of the show. 
All right, she wasn't shot in the head or burnt alive, but everybody knows that she was assaulted outside her home a couple of years ago (don't even try to tell me that the writers didn't know or I'll club you with my favourite rolling pin) - and she's a survivor of domestic abuse... and how do they make her leave? She finds herself in front of an armed mugger and is shot, you say? 

Don't even try to tell me that it's to add "drama" about the character's fate. That was to hurt torture the actress. Full stop.

Do you want to have Abby Sciuto go to London? Here's how you do it if you're not a fucking sociopath:

1) After the restaurant thingy, Clay (Duane Henry) punches the mugger as Abby uses her Taser on the bad guy, who's eventually shipped to Gibbs's interrogation room.

2) It's early morning. Abby wakes up... in Clay's arms and he tells her how frightened he was and how much he loves her.

3) The fake mugger gives clues to find the real bad guy.

4) Clay is offered a massive promotion... in London. He refuses because he's fallen in love with Abby.

5) Abby stops the nutcase - again.

6) Abby goes to see Gibbs, and then Clay: 'We need to talk.'

7) Abby calls everybody to her lab: 'Clay's taking the new job in London... and I'm going with him. I'll work for NCIS in London - and for Scotland Yard.'

Hugs all around and Ducky starts giving Abby tips.

No one dies, and two characters leave.

Apparently it would kill some writers to give the public a happy ending from time to time (it didn't hurt the team from The Mentalist or White Collar, though, did it?).

NCIS: Los Angeles now...
At one point (I can't remember which episode it was), I remember thinking that there was something interesting going on. I later realized that there was an equal number of women and men in the number of main actors and actresses, which was pretty cool.
Then, there are strong women: Henrietta Lange (Linda Hunt), Kensi Blye (Daniela Ruah), Nell Jones (Renée Felice Smith), Harley Hidoko (Andrea Bordeaux), Shay Mosley (Nia Long)...
But there are issues:
- Kensi is the one who's so badly hurt that she's got to go through physical therapy. Yes, the actress was pregnant and they needed a valid reason to have her off screen, but abduction or a secret mission for Hetty could have worked just as well. As well, in the latest episode (Ninguna Salida, s09e24), the strain with her fiancé and possible break-up is a cheap way to write drama into the plot.
- When Mosley arrives, there's a sheer lack of respect from Callen (Chris O'Donnell). The regular characters missed Hetty, who went missing, but their behaviours reek of passive bullying. We get enough of that in real life.
- Hetty, who's basically Superwoman and just rocks, is abducted and tortured in Season 9. The abduction was an interesting plot twist, but the torture was gratuitous (save me the "she won in the end").
- Let's not forget that Sam Hanna's wife, Michelle Quinn (Indira G. Wilson and Aunjanue Ellis), who's a character who was created out of the blue, was murdered in Unleashed (s08e24). Once more, spare me the "it makes good drama"; it sucked.
Basically, I'm not a happy bunny with this series, but I just growl at the telly.

Ah... NCIS: New Orleans...
The ME, Loreta Wade (CCH Pounder) is a great character.
Then... Meredith Brody (Zoe McLellan) left the show for stupid reasons. Her character could well have stayed with NCIS as Tammy Gregorio (Vanessa Ferlito) and Sonja Percy (Shalita Grant) joined the team.
So, one of the "heads" wanted some drama and "Goodbye, Meredith", and now Percy's gone, too. In the regular cast we're left with four blokes and two gals. Keeping Meredith and Percy would have given us a 4/4 (apparently, you can't have that in Hollywood!).

I'm beginning to think that some level of sexism is what makes some American series survive in the long run.
After all, we often see intelligent, daring, open-minded series be cancelled by spineless networks and/or producers (let's have a look at Lucifer, for fun: witty show that follows its bible, no sexism, and four blokes and six gals (I'm counting Trixie) in the main cast. It worked beautifully - until Fox decided to kill it to have more football instead - don't even try to tell me it's because of the ratings!).
Sexism-free telly can work, some of the boys need to understand that (and stop being afraid of their own shadows, and stop protecting abusers, bullies, and plonkers with a sexist agenda). In the meantime, I'm done with the NCIS crap.

No Dye

I'm growling (again) about the way people treat me when they focus on my whitening hair. It's not merely that they see it, no... it's all they see.

Even people who have known me for years tend to forget that I was playing with their children - and that, no, I'm not older than their aforementioned children (that happened to me just yesterday, and it was massively weird).

There was this supermarket employee in Chinatown who stared at me because I was checking the different sauces. His eyes (and general expression) seemed to say "Are you lost, lil', old lady?". Seriously, what the flurch?! I had to state "I'm fine. Ta!" for him to stop staring.

I'll admit that I enjoy my depigmented privilege on overcrowded buses as no one asks me to vacate my seat (not proud of it, and if someone who's really, actually old is near me, I do offer my seat - I'm not a monster).

My neighbouring cousin and I have the same depigmented problem at work (not when we work on a book together - though our depigmenting is different, which is funny as it seems to come from the same bit of shared DNA). Our students must think that we were around somewhere when the pyramids were being built - and the oldest amongst the staff, but we're not (I've got only three colleagues younger than I, and my cousin has just the one). Yet, since the wires on our heads are white, some of our students seem to think that we are an inch from retirement - or death.

My poor cousin just had to deal with a student (to whom the administration of her school decided to give another chance to pass) who thought that it could plagiarize "its" assigned work - coz my cousin, being white-haired and all, must be senile and she'd never, ever flurching notice that "it" copied and pasted pages and pages from the Internet. Right?

What's wrong with these people's eyes? Can't they bloody look at our skins? Not a wrinkle, for Merlin's sake (laugh lines don't count - we do laugh, and we're not planning to stop!).

When I get a coat of arm, "Fronti nulla fides" is sooooo my motto.

For the moment, I think I may start asking people if they left their Labrador at home by mistake*.

*: oddly enough, I think I've been going through anger-generated adrenaline rushes recently, and it's a strange state...

Wanted: a TARDIS & a Klingon

I'd very much like to go back to this afternoon... and have a huge Klingon at my disposal.

The thing is, as I was waiting for my bus, reading a book in a "foreign" language and generally minding my own business, a bloke in his fifties started talking to me in what I thought was Russian.

Not understanding him and not wanting to talk to him, I ignored him.

He kept bugging me, invaded my space to check what I was reading.

It turns out that he was a Romanian coming from Sicily (like I fucking cared).

He wanted to know my age (keep dreaming, Cupcake), where I was born... Good thing he spotted my wedding ring, but that miserable wanker just had to take one glove off to touch my hair (who fucking died and made him king?).

I was so shocked that I froze. 

Because I'm 5'2".

Because he was much stronger than I.

Because I needed to catch that bus and simply couldn't walk away.

Because we were a foot from a busy boulevard and I didn't fancy ending up under a taxi or a bus in case he got angry and decided that pushing me could be fun.

Because I knew that I'd be the one in trouble if I slapped him (or even just his hand).

And this is when I want a TARDIS and a Klingon. The TARDIS to go back to that moment in time, the Klingon to lend me his bat'leth and have a quieting presence by my side.

I know that we have swell, rad, and lovely allies amongst the XY community, but no bloke will ever understand that kind of panic us, women, experience on the street when some entitled plonker ignores our signals and goes on with his own agenda.

The next plonker I meet, for there will be another one... I might yell a bit, just to let some steam off.

 

Same Old Same Old - The "Next" MacGyver Edition

Alas, this is not about the old series where a lovely guy saved the day with some gum and a paper-clip.

Nope.

I went looking for a TV calendar in order to check when my siblings could start sending me spoilers about my favourite shows again, and I found a mention of the next MacGyver's first episode.

You see, last year I shipped my own plot bunnies to the Next MacGyver competition. When I got a message telling me that my script ideas weren't selected for the next step, I remember sending an answer wishing them luck and promising to watch the new series (what's not to love about women kicking arses and saving the day with some gum and a paper-clip... and maybe some GPS device to update the concept?).

I quite like my ideas, and I'm somehow glad that I find myself free to develop them without having studio people telling me to change "this, and that, and that... Oh, and maybe that, too".

I hadn't checked the project since last year, but I investigated a bit after reading the première date. Then, I had to dig deeper, because the competition I'd joined was about promoting women and having a female "MacGyver" as the next number 1 in the cast, but I was reading about blokes, and more blokes.

I must admit that I was barely caffeinated, and I briefly thought I'd stumbled upon a different project, but... no.

Shelved is the idea of the next MacGyver being played by a woman; it's all about cunning men saving the world (from inside the US government apparently, and there's one woman around, but she sounds like a right ungrateful, entitled bitch - on paper, at least). 

I don't know how the initial project was killed, but I'm not interested in that remake - at all.

I don't know if it's rampant sexism, fear about something new, fear about having too much science (and too many women?) in one show, but I don't care. This "MacGyver" doesn't look interesting or challenging enough.

There's one good thing, though: my own plot bunnies from the competition just hopped ahead in my writing queue.

Victim Blaming Is Alive and Well

I really should read fewer newspapers.

I really should not read the comments.

I was reading a new article about the latest "scandal" about a courageous rape victim who was betrayed by the sentencing judge (because the culprit, as a fellow star athlete, deserves to not be properly punished).

It's this New York Times article (it's good, and I've got nothing to say against the journalist).

No, my problem is with whichever plonker picked a victim-blaming comment as a NYT Picks:

There are other similar comments on the thread. Of course. Gosh! My Sarc font is on again!

It's not about showing both sides of an argument. There's NO argument; one does not betray a victim yet another time by giving "air time" to a caveman. Full stop.

Oh, and for good measure, here's the mug of the culprit's protector judge:

I could add something about the letter that the culprit's father wrote, but there's no point in risking my lovely brain cells. Go read about that other caveman; he's a piece of... something.

Life & Art & Abuse & Boycott

I love documentaries, and I love Auntie Beeb.

I quite like Victoria Coren Mitchell. I like her in Only Connect, and when I spotted How to Be Bohemian, I watched the three parts of this documentary.

First, it was very interesting, and I always like to learn new things.

Then, in the second part, when Mrs Coren Mitchell talked about Eric Gill (a man I'd never heard of until that moment - because I'm still not omniscient or plugged into some Akashic Records), I wanted to give her a hug and thank her for no longer wanting to see some of his art after learning that he'd abused his young daughter and that he'd used her to inspire him.

Apparently, Eric Gill couldn't keep his equipment in his trousers (so to speak, since it seems that he took to wearing dresses and robes - to be always ready??). He screwed many, and on his list, his own sister can be found.

All right. I'm not going to be your average prude, but I can't help imagining a man manipulating his sibling into having sex with him rather than having her agreeing to fuck her brother. But, let's try to be hugely tolerant, and let's say two consenting adults had some fun together. Not our business. Fine.

But... according to the man himself, if his diary's to be believed, he raped at least two of his daughters. There is no possible way we, as humans, can hear that and not wish to send a creature like Gill into complete oblivion (if I could go Egyptian on the guy and erase him from History, I'd be tempted).

But then, Mrs Coren Mitchell interviewed Fiona MacCarthy, a biographer of Gill, and then I realized that when it comes to standing by the victims, we're not out of the wood.

Mrs Coren Mitchell asked if we should know the background of a work of art. If the life of the "artist" goes into illegality, shouldn't we stop the person? Being an artist doesn't give anyone a licence to abuse or hurt anyone else (artists can drink, smoke, and snort powder as much as they want; I don't care - as long as they don't try to force me to join or attempt to break my favourite vase).

So, here, we're talking about a man who raped his own children. Even if he had a brain tumour that could explain his vagrant prick, he was an abusive manipulator and a sex predator in my book.

And here comes the immunity card for him: he's an artist. <insert fake gasp here>

When asked if the real life and the art should be viewed as separate, Mrs MacCarthy made me cringe.

     Fiona MacCarthy: I can separate them. And I think that it's the kind of dichotomy in human behaviour that somebody who can behave so reprehensibly can produce these works of supreme art.      

     Victoria Coren Mitchell: Something like the Girl in Bath though, the images he made of his daughter, those erotic images of a naked child. I'm afraid it makes me want to get in a time machine and kneecap him [that's the part that made me want to hug her! I'd lend her a hand!]. Do you find those images beautiful?

       FMC: I still find them beautiful, yes. And if he was a less good artist, I don't think I would bother with him. I don't think that I would be at all concerned with his sexual life or at all interested in it. I think that’s the testing thing. It's this curious tension that produces the rather particular beauty of those images, and I think, perhaps, even that one understands them more deeply by knowing the history.

    VCM: But you might say, well, knowing that he abused his children in this way; yes, one understands better what he was doing in that drawing, and in understanding it, one wants to reject it, no?

     FMC: Well, I wouldn't say that, you see. I think that people who try to police works of art according to what they believe to be the political views or the sexual behaviour of the artist, then they rule out an awful lot of great art. What about Wagner? Do you switch off Wagner because you disapprove of his anti-Semitic views?

       VCM: Yes!

       FMC: You do!? You switch him off!

       VCM: Yeah, I realize that strikes you as terribly philistine…

       FMC: Yes!

      VCM: And I do know it's complicated, I love the poetry of Yeats; he was in his own weird way a sort of Nazi sympathizer. I know these things are complex, and it’s very hard to make an absolute rule, but when I look at those images of Gill’s young daughter, and I know that he abused her; I think it's not something I want to see again.

      FMC: Well, I think that this is a very, very narrow view of art, of society, and that one can’t be so dogmatic. One has to try and take it on board.

This is not victim-blaming, but when someone says, 'Oh, but that Artist is soooooooo good that I can ignore the fact that he (or she) [or it, for all I care] is skinning kittens alive for fun.', then that is deciding to not condemn the fellow biped for doing something bad because that biped is doing something else that you like.

It's simple enough, you put yourself in the shoes (or the paws) of the victim, and you think long and hard how you'd like the rest of the world to come to your rescue. Do you want the coppers to come and stop the abuse, or do you want an art critic or a fan to tell you to be proud of your abuser because he's suuuuuuuuuuuuuuch a grrrrrrreat Aaaaartist? Go on, answer that one.

No amount of genius justifies throwing a victim under the "art" bus.

That's true for Gill. That's true for any abuser who happens to be an artist, like that so-called writer-actor-director who was accused by his step-daughter (the girl is toast in that art world, and the man's still working and getting trophies).

Mind you, that's not limited to art. Have some money (a few billions should work), and you can get away with abusing, say, your step-daughter - the judge will only order you to serve four months - two if you're a nice bloke, coz you lead a "productive life", and your family's important for the community.

When I go shopping, it can take me time because I check that I'm not going to give money to companies that have despicable business habits and/or nasty bosses.

I do the same with artists. I've got a blacklist.

There are enough decent geniuses to entertain us (I didn't know Gill before I watched that documentary, but when I saw his art... I didn't feel a thing. To me, he's in the "nothing to write about" category, and now that I know what he did to his children, I'll ignore anything by him. Not because I'm a philistine - I'm not, but because he's not that good, and as a man, which is inseparable from the artist, he was a monster).

I'll still enjoy the works of any drunkard, drug addict, libertine, but pardon me, I'll draw the line at rapist... and no amount of justification will make me agree with you if you want to keep enjoying the works of any biped guilty of that crime.

That's not a "very, very narrow view of art, of society", that's the position of a survivor who knows what it's like to be in the claws of a monster with the rest of the world ignoring your plight. So gimme another tune, Cupcake, and behave like a decent human being and shun the monsters - quite often, they're overpriced brats who are selling you some invisible cloth. The sooner you see that the king is naked, that their art is empty, and that you're standing by a plonker who's dragging you into the abuse, the better.

*curtseys, & hops off the soapbox*

Le respect « dû » aux religions

[Note to my non-French-speaking readers, this is going to be a growl about something that was recently said in a TV debate about religions (basically that one must respect religions) - and I do need to growl!]

Je pensais simplement envoyer un tweet, mais, finalement, je suis trop énervée par ce que j'ai entendu dans Mots croisés (émission du 09/03/15).

Ce ne sont pas les positions diverses et variés sur la question des pseudo-religieux ravagés de la théière qui m’a fait faire un double salto arrière, ni même les images des débilos en train de briser des statues millénaires (me donnant quand même envie de leur prendre une masse des mains et de leur éclater les genoux avant de tester la résistance de leurs cranes d’œufs). Non, ce fut d’entendre M. Odon Vallet déclarer : « Je dirai comme le Président Obama et comme le pape François, il faut respecter la liberté d’expression, mais il faut aussi respecter les religions. »

Pardon ? (J’ai été trop bien élevée parce que ce n’est pas du tout ce que j’ai grogné à ma pauvre télé.)

Certes, je comprends que M. Vallet défende son domaine d’activité – et sans doute ses convictions, mais… Non ! Non, non, non et non.

Alors, certes, la laïcité en France n’est certainement pas parfaite ou complète, mais il faut la renforcer, pas la miner en créant une protection spéciale pour les religions (et là, je les mets toutes dans le même panier).

J’ai particulièrement apprécié la référence au Big Boss du Vatican. On parle quand même du catholique-en-chef qui a déclaré que si son fidèle secrétaire disait des choses désobligeantes sur sa maman, il lui collerait son poing dans la figure. Magnifique ! Jésus serait tellement fier (en fait, je le vois bien prendre lui-même le marteau et les clous pour en finir plus vite).

Je ne sais pas ce que le Président Obama a dit exactement, mais quand on voit avec quelle facilité les Adorateurs du Tupperware à couvercle rouge (on a vu plus ridicule. Si, si) peuvent obtenir le statut de religion de ce côté-là de l’océan, je ne me donnerai même pas la peine de chercher la citation.

Nous sommes en 2015, mais certains (bon, d’accord, la plupart selon mes critères) semblent à peine sortis de leurs cavernes. Il serait grand temps de réaliser que chaque individu a, en effet, le droit de croire à Thor, à Bastet ou au Tupperware à couvercle rouge, mais chaque croyant est prié (sans jeu de mot, c’est promis) de ne pas se croire spécial, élu, choisi, béni ; c’est comme ça qu’on fini avec des abrutis avec trois neurones qui sont persuadés d’exécuter la volonté divine (parmi la vaste sélection de divinités et de dieux inventés depuis la sortie des cavernes, il y a de quoi choisir sur cette planète !) et qui, du coup, se croient au dessus de tout (ce qui leur donne le droit de tuer, piller, violer et détruire).

Alors, désolée, mais le reste de l’humanité peut bien croire en n’importe quoi, peu me chaut.
En revanche, et là c’est un point important dans ma liste de règles à suivre, ceux dont la foi est tellement sensible qu’ils ne peuvent pas voir une femme en cheveux et s’exprimant dans une église, un temple, une mosquée, ou qui ne peuvent pas ignorer des caricatures (quitte à publier eux-mêmes des poèmes déclarant que ceux qui font ces caricatures sont des bouffons ou des ânes), là… désolée, mais je n’ai et n’aurai jamais aucun respect pour ces gens-là.
Je suis prête à parier que la plupart des croyants qui se mettent à vociférer n'ont même pas vu ce qu'il dénoncent ; ils s'attaquent au principe d'entrée de jeu. C'est le genre de chose qui me fait penser aux détracteurs de La vie de Brian qui n'avaient pas vu le film (ou qui avaient râté le début !) ou aux pyromanes en herbe qui s'attaquaient au cinémas qui passaient La dernière tentation du Christ. Parce que... Blasphème !!!
Désolée les enfants, mais tant qu'on ne vous enchaîne pas à un fauteuil pour vous forcer à regarder ces horreurs, vous êtes gentiment priés de passer votre chemin et de ne pas vous comporter comme si vous étiez les maîtres du monde (Flash info : ce n'est pas du tout le cas).

Je n’irai pas tuer le chat de compagnie d’un adorateur de Bastet, mais si le fidèle du Tupperware à couvercle rouge vient faire du prosélytisme dans mon appartement et exige que je le respecte et que je me conduise de façon à respecter ses croyances chez moi et dans ma vie de tous les jours, petit un : il peut se brosser, mais à un point que, si nous parlions du chat de l’adorateur de Bastet, il aurait un poil de compétition et petit deux : j’ai un bon rouleau à pâtisserie pour me protéger des crétins arrogants qui veulent se conduire en tyrans domestiques.

Parce que... c’est ça le problème : ce n’est pas une question de respect, c’est une question de manipulation et de pseudo-importance. Or, ces bipèdes religieux, s’ils ne sont pas extrémistes, ont le droit de croire en paix, chez eux, mais il est hors de question de leur concéder un traitement spécial (s’ils sont extrémistes… rouleau à pâtisserie. Point final. Ils n’ont rien de spécial, et il faut reprendre leur dressage à la base).

Je crois que ce qui m’a choqué le plus, c’est que M. Vallet rejette une partie de la faute sur les victimes. C’est tellement banal. C’est tellement faux.

Cette idée que « Il s’est fait attaqué la nuit en banlieue ? Ben, ‘fallait pas traîner là. » ou « Avec une jupe aussi courte, pas étonnant qu’elle ait été violée. » est un tel cliché qu’il est rare de ne pas l’entendre, ce qui rajoute une couche sur une victime qui avait tous les droits de ne pas être battue ou violée… ou n’importe quoi d’autre.

J’aimerais que les terriens se comportent en adultes : si quelqu’un vous énerve ou vous blesse, dites-le lui, et s’il continue, évitez-le comme la peste tout en pensant que c’est un gros crétin des Alpes qui fume la moquette. Si ledit crétin des Alpes continue à en mettre une couche, portez plainte, dénoncez-le sur les réseaux sociaux (ou à sa môman), mais n’allez pas sur son lieu de travail pour le tuer (ces remarques s'appliquent au harcèlement de base, mais les religieux soi-disant hyper-sensibles seront bien aimables de ne pas utiliser cette justification afin d'expliquer leurs réactions épidermiques aux choses qui les dérangent ; je fais de l'allergie à la bêtise, mais je ne dégaine pas le rouleau à pâtisserie à tout va).

M. Dupond a le droit de croire à ce qu’il veut, mais ça ne lui donne pas droit à un traitement spécial.

De même, Mme Durand a bien le droit de ne croire en rien et de ne pas être regardée de haut parce qu’elle n’éprouve pas le besoin de vénérer le divin Tupperware au couvercle rouge.

Je veux bien respecter tout le monde, mais la rue du respect n’est pas à sens unique (pourquoi n’ai-je pas le droit de gravir le Mont Athos ou de découvrir les beautés de Sanjōgatake ? Ah, oui ! Une sombre histoire de genre grammatical qui se permet de me tenir à l'écart pour cette simple justification biologique - ce n'est pas une question de propriété privée, c'est que le videur n'aime pas ma tête).

Alors voilà… on se conduit en adultes, on se respecte (et j’ai le droit d’aller partout sur Terre, parce que c’est autant ma planète que celle du croyant M. Dupont équipé en XY), et on éduque les débilos à marteaux-piqueurs et autres armes et si vraiment ça ne suffit pas, on envoie les andouilles tenir compagnie à Miss Curiosity sur Mars (elle n’a rien fait pour mériter ça, la pauvre).

Le respect se mérite. Et comme l’a dit Mme Rima Karaki (entretien vidéo avec sous-titres en anglais ici) : « Juste une seconde. Ou il y a un respect mutuel, ou la conversation est terminée. » (je suis assez fan de sa réaction ; le cheik était lent, tarabiscoté dans sa réponse, pompeux, arrogant et sexiste. Elle a bien fait de lui couper le sifflet).

Et on arrête de jouer du rouleau à pâtisserie sur les victimes mortes ou à terre. Ça fera avancer le schmilblick (arriver à couper les fonds des débilos, ce serait bien aussi).

Voilà… beauuucoup plus long qu’un tweet… et désolée pour le grognement engendré par une seule petite phrase.

Fly, Vinegar, & My Rule #2

Just a friendly tip for lazy, arrogant bipeds: if you need me to give you something (that you badly need, and that you can exclusively get from me), you ask nicely, and you try to make it look as if you did your best whilst you failed miserably (and I'm being kind!).

The thing is, if you keep bugging me after I said "No, I won't give it to you just because you're asking!", if you treat me as if I were an annoying and despicable gnat, if you keep pretending that just showing up (but never doing your job) should be enough for you to get some reward... Let's face it, that won't work too well with me.

Oh, and if you yell at me that (that happened for real, and I'm still growling hours later) I'm, I quote, a 'cunt':

a - I'll report you to our bosses because I'm not your doormat

b- I'll get a witch to curse you (and I'm not even joking)

c - you'll be dead to me from now on

I'm not a fly that's caught with vinegar, respect is never a one-way street, and I wasn't raised in a barn.

I just hope this is not a taste of the year or I'll hibernate throughout 2015!!

Conspiracy Theory (May Contain a Dose of Common Plonker)

Allow me to start this with banking woes (you'll see it's convoluted, but it weirdly makes sense). 

Once more, I'm dealing with banking plonkers who are abusing the Law because they think no one is going to pay attention or check what they say.

I do understand that the UE is trying to take collective measures in order to prevent funds to be sent to terrorists and to avoid the average money laundering, but... there is a sub-part to that law that says that they're allowed to work case by case and decide who is potentially a threat.

Just today, I've seen a banker refuse a retiree to open a new account (well, it took them a frigging month to react and notice that there was a "problem") for a stupid (oh... and incidentally just plain illegal) reason.
In my book, it's just that the bank manager doesn't have the guts to allow the opening of the account because that biped had decided to follow the main rule (which is incidentally wrong on that head here, according to two official sources - but never mind that detail).

It's utterly stupid. With exactly the same "legal" situation, the same kind of account was opened in another bank a few months ago.

That retiree isn't planning to start a live remake of Saving Grace or to do anything illegal; it's just about not having all the eggs in the same basket...

Well, that bank has lost one client - and me. And once I've moved, I'm going to send an icy letter to the highest plonker I can find in that bank to tell it that its subordinates are robots who can't think by themselves (all the more since there is a bloody loophole!!!).

I'm about to make a sexist remark, but the banker who accepted to use the loophole was a man; the one who didn't is a woman (and Merlin! Was she limited and patronizing! Coming from someone sending a retiree packing, that was a bit rich!). 

Just because that girl has made me waste time, as I worked to prove that I was right, and she was wrong... and because moving my account is going to make me waste more time, this is war.

Our contact in the stupid branch pointed out that the manager wasn't there to give the green light.

*fake gasp* 

Do you mean that the rest of that branch is on hold when the boss isn't there? Crikey! The manager must be quite something!

Apparently, they've never heard of delegating duties (or using their brains, mind you). Idiotic sheeple.

It's strangely things like that that make me want to believe in most conspiracy theories. Yes, I did write 'want to'. Because I'd rather have the people at the helm be cold-hearted manipulators, who plan wars years ahead, make deals with the enemy in secret and take us all for slaves that they can use as they please because... Well, the alternative is that they're as limited, stupid, idiotic as the gal at the bank, and they muddle along as clumsily as they could.

It may be silly, but I prefer dealing with heartless people with excellent brains than with the average plonker elected by chance and vaguely coping with everything.

Then again, if most sheeple are representative of the selection of bipeds on earth, perhaps there are only lucky plonkers. Perhaps there are no conspiracy theories, just dire situations created by the empty skulls of inadequate idiots who associate with other idiots who are incapable of doing anything correctly...

Dear Universe, I really do hope we're being manipulated. If so, that's awful, but the alternative is just too scary!

On My Wall of Shame (#8)

It's probably my love for strategy that's making me so angry in this case, because it reeks of "damage control" wrapped in a smokescreen, and I don't like politicos trying to fool the sheeple.

The story is:

Step 1: lady in politics is heckled by sexist male politicos.

Step 2: the story spreads a bit and makes the boys look like decerebrated Neanderthals (of the cliché-esque variety; I can't believe that actual Neanderthals would have been this petty and low, but that's me).

Step 3: one of the boys comes forward, spouting pretty stereotypes about not realizing that he'd hurt his female colleague's feelings - Oh, and he's very, very sorry, and he won't do it again (here's a novel idea: don't be a sexist bully in the first place!).

*short pause to barf*

Step 4: he swears that he's going to force the other boys to behave and respect the gals.

All together now: Awwwwwwwwwwwwww! The sexist bully doesn't have a clue and can't spell "respect", and he's just sorry that the rest of the world didn't side with him when he insulted his colleague.

Oh, and since he was kind enough to apologize on camera (nice piece of PR, boys; is Malcolm Tucker working for you now?), the other culprits will probably get a free pass. How cute!

*keeps barfing*

The brave boy is Hakihiro Suzuki:

If you want to read more about the case, go there.

There's also a video there (in Japanese).

To Pseudo-Fashionistas

There's always something, isn't there?

We always find some bipeds who are convinced that their way is the only way (and - let's not forget! - that they're right).

Once upon a time, I was dancing. Since it was traditional dancing, I had to sew my dresses because it was either that or find authentic dresses from the 19th century, and... though these dresses can still be found, they're usually auctioned and cost an arm, a leg, an eye, and the soul of your first born - and so I was sewing (already back then... *cue nostalgic sigh*).

The one thing I could afford was a copy of drawings that had been made in the late 19th century to illustrate the local costumes of the region I was representing.

In our group of dancers, one member had self-proclaimed "itself" (not a fan back then, and I haven't recovered yet) Costumer-in-Chief. One tiny problem: that person was competent from 1945 onwards; anything before that was completely alien to that person. Oops.

I'd done my homework (yea... that's a pathology I acquired very young), and I knew that my design was accurate for the character I was to incarnate, but the Costumer-in-Chief thought it appropriate to inquire about the length of my skirt. I was able to defend my hem by quoting the reference to the drawings I'd invested in. Had I been uninformed, I would have been invited to shorten my skirt, which is what happened to a fellow who'd been lucky enough to find an authentic 19th century dress that fit her even though she was rather tall, and who was ordered by the Costumer-in-Chief to cut the bottom of the dress. I met them all months after that crime was committed, but that's something that still makes me growl years later.

Today's dress-related growl was generated by a tweet that led me to this article.

First... is everybody a critic now? Or are silly bipeds that jealous when someone's got a bit of success that they can't help spouting venom? Or is it still 1012, and women are still judged on the way they look and the way they dress whilst boys are left alone?

And then... these pseudo-fashionistas don't know a thing about the history of patterns.

I love that dress: Roman-inspired top, and Empire/Regency skirt, made in Victorian-inspired floral material. Sorry, guys, but this is very original, and it's lovely!

Some people seem to have commented on the black shoes. So what? I've got a pair like that (not as shiny, though), and they're awesome - and comfy. 

Oh! My bad again! Was she supposed to wear some pseudo-fashionable shoes that would have killed her back and her feet? Merlin! It's 2014, guys, and anyone should be able to come to any award ceremony in slippers and not be flamed for that.

Sheesh!

*off the sewing "soap box"*

Of Spades and Roses (Take 2)

I'm not done growling for this weekend.

Fasten your seat-belts.

Last week's been weird about what I read, heard, witnessed and watched - and it was all wrapped closely in time, which made it all the more annoying.

Last Friday, I overheard a young woman tell her two male companions that 'Look! There's a man in a skirt in that store! Look! Look! Look!'. I didn't manage to spot the gentleman, but, judging from the reaction of the young woman, I'd say it probably wasn't a Scottish kilt (or she's been living in a cave until now... which isn't entirely impossible, actually).

It's 2014, guys!

As I was listening to that young woman being all shocked and bothered, I firmly kept thinking "So WHAT?!!!". Why couldn't a man wear a skirt? Why bloody not?

This is with stories like that that I end up thinking I'm wired differently because, as long as the guy-in-a-skirt isn't telling me how I should dress, he could wear a green tutu, and I wouldn't care less.

Speaking of tutu brings me to story #2. Apparently, a young boy's been banned from an after-school religious club for wearing pink princess dresses. *fake gasp* The horror!

It seems that the children didn't care one bit, but the bigoted adults were traumatized... or they're just plain old bullies who can't stand seeing a child showing signs of individualism... or they've got three brain cells each and get all confused when they see something a tad different.

Uniformity isn't good for the brain, guys. If you don't know that... get another job, you do not belong anywhere in education (even of the after-class variety!).

Then, last night: Eurovision.

I've stopped watching loooong ago, but I followed this year's competition from afar because the Austrian candidate was making Russian MPs froth at the mouth (and that's my idea of fun).

Miss Conchita looks great (I'd kill to have legs like that! And her eyes!!!). But her victory has all the Neanderthals (apologies to actual Neanderthals, who may well have been better than that; I'm using the word as a stereotype) spouting venom from light ('But... the beard!') to dark ('He can say whatever he wants; he's a bloke in a dress').

Very mature, guys.

As I said when I growled about IT updates, I don't like changes, but lil' paradoxical me is also the queen of customization. Fuck uniformity. Uniformity is boring (see China and the USSR under Mao and Stalin: Yuck! Double-yuck! Triple-yuck!).

And clichés are boring, too, which is why we need equality. Full equality. Now.

No! We need it yesterday.

Everybody deserves to be taken seriously, and an XY who wants to wear a skirt/dress/awesome evening gown has the right to do so. Otherwise, it's back to Mao's uniform in just one colour for all humanity, and I'll shout 'Bloody bollocking hell; fuck, NO!'.

It all boils down to some people thinking/believing that there are "normal" things. Nothing is normal. We can have similar patterns, but no two things are fully similar, and the sooner bipeds realize that, the sooner this may start feeling like the 21st century, not a bad reboot of the Victorian Era!

Sexism in all its forms must be fought.

I sometimes say that I miss London, because, when I was there, no one judged anyone on the way the other was dressed or the way someone's hair was done or coloured. That was precious... but perhaps that's just a nice souvenir floating in the past now...

I want to believe that we can do better than that.

Badvert Aplenty (International Edition)

Of course, I'm not in the business of making commercials or creating advertisements.

Nope. I'm not.

But... I'm the one in charge of shopping, and I'm the one in charge of the house and all the choices made for the house, and when I see stuff like this, well... I may overanalyse, but I gag:

Two companies, three commercials ->

First, a bank that wants to promote its international service for students:

Well, sorry, but what I see is a bloke stupid enough to go to the other side of the world without bothering to learn the few words that he's going to need in his everyday life (yea, I know, there are people like that, but non-preparation shouldn't be encouraged).
Then, there's the employee: she doesn't speak English, and when an obviously lost foreign student types the wrong words in his phone through a faulty translation programme, the one thing she thinks of is 'Oh, my God! Bank robbery!'.
On the YouTube page, it seems that the commenters find:
a - the bloke cute (I don't care one bit)
b - the commercial very funny

In my book, this is badvert because the student is made to look like a perfect idiot and the Chinese employee is shown as racist and stupid, which in turn, is deeply sexist - and racist.
Basically, hello cliché!

Then, a series of commercials from a company that sells sanitary protection.
With those, I give you two alleged boyfriends who are praising their girlfriends:
Bloke #1:

So, he likes his nutty girlfriend even though she's got a massive collection of bats in the attic. Awww! *gags*

Bloke #2:

I don't know if he could be more patronizing: 'She's my girlfriend - but I don't mean that I own her.'. Of course not, plonker! She's not your slave. *gags again*

What profoundly bugs me is that people were paid (paid!!!) to make this crap.
If either bloke were my boyfriend, I'd punch him and dump him in five seconds.

So, okay, we're spared the blue liquid that shows how efficient a sanitary thingy is supposed to be - because women bleed blue curaçao once a month, but that kind of sexist stupidity would make me dump a brand at the speed of light.
Now, we get sexist boys promoting sanitary protection. Why? Because boys are buying their girlfriends' sanitary protection? Because they're the ones shopping (yea, we've got decent, shopping blokes out there - but how many?)? Because it's too darn difficult for lil' gals to choose a sanitary protection brand, so they've got to be told by a man?
Bloody hell, I could smack someone! (Merlin be praised, the comments on those are mostly on my side, which is somewhat reassuring.)

*shakes head, growls a bit & beams out*

On My Wall of Shame (#5)

I used to like Ireland, but since too many politicos (retired or active) declare that adult women are possessions that can be told what to do with their own bodies because a blob of cells (that is nothing outside of these women) is more important and has more rights than them, I'll refuse to go there until they've reached a humane, civilized, non-bigoted 21st century.

The latest boy to open his mouth is Eamonn Barnes.

Back in 1992, as the director of public prosecutions, he "had a role in the drama that culminated in the landmark X-case judgment. Early that year, a family told gardaí their 14-year-old daughter had been raped by a neighbour and was pregnant. They said they intended to bring her to the UK for an abortion."

That arrogant bigot "referred the matter to the then attorney general, Harry Whelehan. He sought an injunction to prevent the girl leaving the jurisdiction, believing the 1983 amendment required the State to do so to protect the unborn child’s life."

More about his current actions there.

Panem et... Voyeurism?

Some bipeds are stupid. Of course. I know.

Some media are vultures, I know that, as well.

Yet, the morbid fascination most sheeple show the moment there's a tragedy is something I have a hard time to understand. Really.

I know it's probably linked to the fact that by knowing about tragedies happening to others, these people find comfort in the fact that they're free of such horrible things (and/or they rejoice in the fact that they're still alive).

I know, I understand, but I probably skipped that strand of DNA, as I cannot stop to look at a road accident or read about everything about tragedies.

However, there's one thing, one single thing, I find utterly despicable - and the bipeds who are too stupid to connect the dots should be smacked until their brains kickstarts: that's when children are added to the circus, just for the sake of plonkers' morbid voyeurism and media's hideous wish to make money at all costs.

Let me give you just one example: a girl disappears, but no body is ever found. Years later, the girl is found alive, and she'd been abducted by a man. With her, police officers find her child (or children).

There's only one possibility, and that's not immaculate conception.

What happened is painfully obvious, and yet... complete twats wait for the inevitable piece of info about the name of the father, and the media all compete to be the first to spread the info.

That, miserable twats, is siding with the culprit. That's adding to the victims' trauma, but... hey! Anything to boost the sales, right? And the public has the right to know. 

Sorry. That's bollocks.

The Romans had the circus. We have the Internet.

That's not being human.

Time to grow up and do better than that!

Between 2% and 8%

*points at title* I'm talking about false accusations of rape.

Apparently, it all depends on where the accusation is made on the planet, but most sources I just consulted agree that the false accusations are quite often around 2% (the 8% is to cover the scared behinds of the agencies making the stats).

Let me be very clear if you're maths-impaired: two per cent means that whilst two poor people (not writing "men" - or "women", because anyone can be raped or can potentially turn into a rapist; it's not limited to one gender against the other gender - there are several different degrees) were unfairly accused of a crime they did not commit, 98% (ninety-eight per cent) accusations were true.

And when we talk about stats, we're only dealing with reported rapes. We're talking about the people who did go to the Police and went through hell a second time in order to try to get some justice.

In fact, we don't know how many people are actually raped, because the stigma still attached to that crime instantly turns the victims into suspects (Where were you when it allegedly happened? Did you know the person? Did you resist? Did you like it? What were you wearing? Were you drunk? Why are you wasting our time? Don't you think you deserved it because [insert any idiotic reason here]?).

So, yes, we do have a few nutcases who will go through the entire circus just to get revenge or because they definitely belong in Bedlam - and I shall always be on the side of their victims, but...

When I hear boys (because, in this case, it's nearly always boys) moan about the fact that one man was falsely accused and that that bloke should be made a Saint and named the President of Earth because of what happened to him, I'll yell that, yes, that particular victim deserves our sympathy, and whoever accused him should be severely punished and socially branded as a right plonker, but... let's not sweep under the carpet all the victims of actual rape.

As I was looking for the latest stats, I used a big search engine, and amongst the first results what did I get? The propaganda page of a despicable source of pseudo-news that spat lies from line one. That's depressing; if you try to show that there are more victims of rape than victims of false accusations of rape, you're yelled at, ridiculed and despised by some bipeds.

Look, I'll be super extra generous... Even if there were 10% (ten per cent) of false accusations (which there is NOT), we'd still be dealing with 90% (ninety per cent) of true accusations (which are probably just the tip of the iceberg).

I know it's awful to be falsely accused. It's unfair and petty and nasty, but the number of true victims must be placed first.

When I hear boys whingeing about false accusations, I hear bullies who want their gender to be always #1 and the best and perfect and blameless. That's not the case.

Yet, my dear boys, if you want to be the awesomest creatures on Earth, here's an idea: fight against rape so it becomes a sad fact only found in History books. How about that, um? Problem solved on all fronts.