So after a week of beggin/sniffling/bargaining/re-visiting doctors, someone just called from the appointments office of my local public hospital to tell me that they can do my MRI on Tuesday. Whoooo-hooo. And all I had to pay were my taxes.
A tech problem and cannot bring you number 6 in the Brother Neil list but…well, I was sitting down making some notes and heart this song over the box….it made me sigh and then get all wistful…it’s a song that has more meaning each passing year in some respects. Sending out for the Thursday Selection from the Flimwell Papers’ Music Corner. Love y’all! Now where is my scotch tumbler…
Probably my favorite song by The Beatles.
Yes, I think so too. And, despite all the lovely, slower, softer soulful versions (Judy Collins?) I prefer the original. There’s something about the dry, matter-of-fact hard delivery of the lyrics that makes it so much better.
“Hello? Housekeeping.” Diallo looked around the living room. She was standing facing the bedroom in the small entrance hall when the naked man with white hair appeared.
“Oh, my God,” said Diallo. “I’m so sorry.” And she turned to leave. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. But he was like “a crazy man to me.” He clutched at her breasts. He slammed the door of the suite.
Diallo is about 5 feet 10, considerably taller than Strauss-Kahn, and she has a sturdy build. “You’re beautiful,” Strauss-Kahn told her, wrestling her toward the bedroom. “I said, ‘Sir, stop this. I don’t want to lose my job,’” Diallo told NEWSWEEK. “He said, ‘You’re not going to lose your job.’” An ugly incident with a guest—any guest—could threaten everything Diallo had worked for. “I don’t look at him. I was so afraid. I didn’t expect anyone in the room.”
“He pulls me hard to the bed,” she said. He tried to put his penis in her mouth, she said, and as she told the story she tightened her lips and turned her face from side to side to show how she resisted. “I push him. I get up. I wanted to scare him. I said, ‘Look, there is my supervisor right there.’” But the man said there was nobody out there, and nobody was going to hear.
Diallo kept pushing him away: “I don’t want to hurt him,” she told us. “I don’t want to lose my job.” He shoved back, moving her down the hallway from the bedroom toward the bathroom. Diallo’s uniform dress buttoned down the front, but Strauss-Kahn didn’t bother with the buttons, she said. He pulled it up around her thighs and tore down her pantyhose, gripping her crotch so hard that it was still red at the hospital, hours later. He pushed her to her knees, her back to the wall. He forced his penis into her mouth, she said, and he gripped her head on both sides. “He held my head so hard here,” she said, putting her hands to her cranium. “He was moving and making a noise. He was going like ‘uhh, uhh, uhh.’ He said, ‘Suck my’—I don’t want to say.” The report from the hospital where Diallo was taken later for examination notes that “she felt something wet and sour come into her mouth and she spit it out on the carpet.”
“I got up,” Diallo told NEWSWEEK. “I was spitting. I run. I run out of there. I don’t turn back. I run to the hallway. I was so nervous; I was so scared. I didn’t want to lose my job.”
Diallo says she hid around the corner in the hallway near the service lobby and tried to compose herself. “I was standing there spitting. I was so alone. I was so scared.” Then she saw the man come out of 2806 and head for the elevator. “I don’t know how he got dressed so fast, and with baggage,” she said. “He looked at me like this.” She inclined her head and stared straight ahead. “He said nothing.”
The European right is pissing itself right now because its beloved capitalism is flaking away, and even with logic aside, they can’t blame it all on the Socialists. And they have a zillion less-than-ivory-skinned immigrants who made the bullding boom possible (and 90% of those, Muslim or not, give a rat’s ass about ideology) They just want a house and a job. And having observed Spain’s immigrants, especially the women, over the last 20+ years, I swear that a decent lifestyle and the chance to send your kids to a half-way good school IS the ideology for most of the immigrants. So when common sense and logic and obvious conclusions insult your basic (right wing) ideology, well, let’s kill a crop of future Laborists. Because Labor just upset the little tiny delicate balance that kept you above the wogs. OH and the most tellling detail in all of Mr. Murderer’s bio, is a string of failed businesses. Nothing like screwing up at making money to make you want to kill social democrats, huh?
Also isn’t it funny how when a woman eats chocolate and something salty, she’s totally PMSing but when a chef combines foods similarly it becomes artisanal?ç
This morning I went to my local hospital for a blood tests. I had to wait a while - of course, fasting - and it took longer than I expected, so when I finally stumbled starving into the hospital cafeteria, I was semi-conscious. I ordered a café con leche and a tostada con aceite de oliva. (Plus a big wedge of green Spanish melon. I hadn’t eaten for twelve hours, ok?)The waitress at the counter handed over my coffee, toasted bread, little containers of olive oil (tiny, like the”coffee whitener” they give you on a plane.*). I picked up a teeny packet of saccharine and put it on the saucer of my coffee cup.She looked at me strangely, but said nothing and rang up my bill. I went, sat down, put the saccharine in my coffee, and realized…it was salt. I went back to the counter, got TWO little packets of saccharine, put them in my coffee and drank the damn thing.
It wasn’t too bad. Not as bad as going back to the counter and confessing that I was a blind senile idiot. And I decided that somewhere, someone was making the case for salt in coffee as a hipster trend. In vogue, am I.
Lazy me, recycling a comment I wrote on Jezebel. This was on a thread of comments on a post about Americanisms that annoy British English speakers:
I speak two languages: English (spoken by 375 million people as a native language) and Spanish (over 350 million native speakers). I am from New York City and have lived in Madrid for 22 years.
I have gotten shit from: Americans who mock my new Yawk accent; a fellow New Yorker who thougt I didn’t have enough of a New York accent and said “you tawk real affected”; British people who criticized my American accent, or choice of words, such as, a co-worker who would snap “It’s AUTUMN” every time I referred to the season of the moment as “Fall”, among other things); Spaniards who sneer at my less than 100% perfect Spanish (if you learn a language after adolescence, it’ll be hard to speak the second language with no accent); Hispanic-Americans who have said my Castilian lisp is “fascist and patriarchial”; people from other parts of Spain who roll their eyes at my obvious Madrileño pronunciation; etc, etc. Oh, and since I teach English and often use textbooks from British publishers, I sometimes say “lift”, “lorry”, “roundabout”, etc, to the despair of my family in New York.
So I’ve decided that anyone who doesn’t like how I tawk can besarme el bottom. You all OK with that? Thanks, and have a nice day.
Ok, the “crips” reference was mine only, with no apologies (I never apologize when I’m enraged). But when a story about the wedding of a paralyzed woman incites comments like,
“Not to be indelicate, but can she experience below the waist sexual pleasure and um..completion? And if she cannot, are there men who find that ok and no big deal vs. the reverse where the man could not get it up and perform at all.” (commenter Helen_Lawson)
Please? Grow up, fuck off and stumble away somewhere…..oh, and use Google before you leave your snail trail on the thread. KThxDie.
Men who want to flirt with women have to realize: Women live in a state of continual vigilance about sexual safety. It’s like having a mild case of hay fever that never goes away. It’s not debilitating. You’re not weak. You’re not afraid. You just suck it up and get on with your life. It’s nothing that’s going to stop you from making discoveries, or climbing mountains, or falling in love. Sometimes you can almost forget about it. It doesn’t mean it’s not there, subtly sucking your energy. You learn to avoid situations that make it worse and seek out conditions that make it better.
If a female stranger is wary around you, it is not because she suspects you are a rapist, or that all men are rapists. It’s because a general level of circumspection is what vigilance requires. Don’t take it personally.
If this frustrates you, try to remember that women are blamed for lapsed vigilance. If a woman does get raped, everyone rushes to see where she let her guard down. Was she drinking? Was she alone? Was she wearing a short skirt? Did she go to a strange man’s room for coffee at 4am?
A woman must be seen to be vigilant as well as be vigilant. If she is deemed insufficiently vigilant, she will be at least partly blamed for any sexual violence that befalls her. If she’s regarded as downright reckless, that “evidence” can be used to completely exonerate her rapist. If it comes down to a he said/she said dispute over whether sex was consensual, as so many rape cases do, the dispute becomes a referendum on whether the woman seems like the sort of reckless person who would have sex with a stranger.
If a woman does go back to a strange man’s hotel room at 4am, even if she only wants a coffee and conversation, she’s more or less given him the power to rape her. No jury is going to believe she went up there for anything but sex. So, don’t be surprised if a stranger reacts badly to that suggestion.
I’ve tried to explain it to people like this? You know any cops? You know how they always carry a gun (even if they’ll never use it off duty in a lifetime), always look around, check people out, check out situations, look behind them, are a bit wary of everything….because they know what could happen at any moment. It probably won’t but…and that’s how many women live every moment of every day.