Clusterfuck Nation
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The Resistance didn’t quite hit it out of the park with Christine Blasey Ford. After all, how effective for the purpose of character assassination is a claim of “attempted rape” without even a when-and-where piece of the story? So the DC Dem-Progs have gone to their bench and found a real thumper in Deborah Ramirez who steps forward now with the ultimate giant-killer story of Brett Kavanaugh “thrusting his penis in her face and causing her to touch it without her consent,” (as reported in The New Yorker Magazine by Ronan Farrow, America’s self-appointed great white penis-hunter, and estranged son of filmmaker Woody Allen, infamous, reputed penis-mishandler).
The charge was obviously crafted to prompt the news media to repeat the word “penis” as many times possible because the word itself has terrifying powers to shock women’s sensibilities. And understandably so. It’s not for nothing that the rakes of merry old England referred to the male generative organ as “the frightful hog.” In our time, a better analog might be the ghastly interloper aboard the space-tug Nostromo in the classic sci-fi shocker Alien. Remember how it burst out of astronaut John Hurt’s chest, all slimy, drippy, and goopy, and sort of water-skied out of the sick bay to hide in the bilges? Dear me! Almost gave me a heart attack at the time and I was barely into my thirties.
Fast forward about seventy minutes to the climactic third reel where Warrant Officer Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) is preparing desperately to escape the wrecked Nostromo in her space lifeboat… and look who’s aboard staring her right in the face: the now full-grown alien beast, all goopy and tumescent, a veritable penis-of-death from another world. The movie came out in 1979, just a few years before the alleged facial penis-thrusting in the Yale freshman dorm. One wonders if Deborah Ramirez had seen the film and was possibly suffering from post-Alien-shock syndrome (PASS).
Here the Resistance has come up with a story so vivid and awful that it almost guarantees conviction without any necessary proof. I’m sure it will do the trick. It’s certainly an improvement over the old Anita Hill tale of Clarence Thomas noticing a pubic hair on his Coke can. A mere hair! The proto-Resistance of 1991 was far too timid in that case, and Mr. Thomas actually landed on the supreme court! Apparently, they learned their lesson on that one: When swinging for the fences, haul out the heavy lumber.
The part that I find interesting in the New Deborah Ramirez accusation is this:
After six days of carefully assessing her memories and consulting with her attorney, Ramirez said that she felt confident enough of her recollections to say that she remembers Kavanaugh had exposed himself at a drunken dormitory party, thrust his penis in her face, and caused her to touch it without her consent as she pushed him away.
Six days of meditation, prayer, memory-wracking, attorney-prompting, and — no doubt — earnest and heartfelt coaching by Resistance memory-recovery shamans, overcame the effects of 35 years and, say, seven Jello-shots to retrieve the details of that long-ago encounter. (No one mentioned bong-hits, at least not yet, but how could there not have been, on top of the drinking games?) But the real gold in the story comes in this revelation:
Ramirez, who was raised a devout Catholic, in Connecticut, said that she was shaken. “I wasn’t going to touch a penis until I was married.”
Really? Maybe she should have gone to the weekly meeting of the Yale Freshman Women’s Math and Physics Circle instead of an apparently mostly male dorm party convened for the purpose of getting shitfaced drunk with the greatest possible efficiency. Did she not know what was going on there? Was she forced to stick around? Did the boys make her down those shots?
Now that all American womanhood has been faced, shall we say, with the image of the looming universal horrifying penis, all bets on the Kavanaugh nomination are off. But the gambit does raise the possibility that it will be answered by some rough justice from the conservative side of the field. It will be interesting to see in the weeks and months ahead how many Democratic house and senate members will be revealed as would-be rapists and sluts. I can’t imagine that none of them have secrets to hide. In fact, I would take the Ramirez accusation as tantamount to a declaration of war by the Resistance. And as the old saying goes, all’s fair in love and war.
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Something Strange is going on at Camp Timahoe
in Lost Indian, Vermont, summer of 1962
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