Not a Good Week For Rape Victims

Misc. observations on yet another cold, rainy morning:

1.     It hasn’t been a good week for alleged rape victims. First came the collapse of the UVA/Rolling Stone story. Now comes a retraction from Random House over the star of Lena Dunham’s memoir, Barry the campus conservative and rapist. It seems that there really was a “Barry” at Oberlin back in the day and he was the campus conservative. Trouble is, he has lawyered up and is fighting back by loudly claiming his innocence, so much so that now Ms. Dunham claims that his name wasn’t really Barry. Here’s a little advice for all of you aggrieved feminists out there. There are enough real rapes out there. You don’t need to manufacture fake ones. When you get caught, it damages you and everything you stand for, not to mention legitimate victims.

2.     Over the weekend Pam and I went to see the Grand Illumination downtown with Gordon and Leigh Ann Fort. It was fun. While there we took two pictures, one of Gordon and Leigh Ann and another of the two of us. We would have done a selfie of all four of us, but couldn’t manage the mechanics. Later we posted both photos on Facebook. As of this morning the Dunnevant photo has 15 “likes”. The Fort photo has 75 “likes.” The Dunnevant family self-esteem is at all-time lows as we consider the appalling state of our popularity.

3.     It has been fascinating to watch the evolving tactics of peaceful protesters around the country over the Ferguson and Garner incidents. The latest rage seems to be something called a Die-In, whereby protestors gather at some high profile place and then lay down on the ground as if dead while photographers snap pictures. Interesting. I have never taken part in an organized protest in my entire life. It’s not that I have never been outraged by anything. I get mad as quick as the next guy. It’s just that it all seems so pointless. In a couple more weeks all of these protests will be over and cops and black men will still be enemies. Maybe it does serve the needs of the protestors by giving them a way to demonstrate their frustration which is fine and good. I just can’t imagine being part of a crowd of angry tax-paying businessmen marching on the IRS headquarters on April 15^th. The very idea of laying on the sidewalk with my pockets inside out pretending to be dead-broke seems preposterously silly to me. I mean, it might make me feel better, might even be great fun, but I still owe them the money.

 Lucy is about to lose whatever sanity dogs come with. It has been cloudy, rainy and disgusting outside for what seems like forever, robbing her of her favorite activity…destroying my backyard. She has had only one digging session in the past week and the withdrawal symptoms are starting to become debilitating. Poor girl has taken to sitting at doors and windows and letting out long mournful whines. It’s a dog’s life.

We Need To "Crank" it up!

If I didn’t know better I would think that the Dunnevants are turning into the Cranks.

This weekend would have been a perfect time to finish up the Christmas decorating what with all the chilly rain out and all. We had every intention of doing just that. I managed to put the swags in the windows and get a couple of trees down from the attic and set in place. Then everything just sort of petered out. The usual manic holiday momentum never materialized despite the festive Christmas soundtrack booming through the Bose sound dock. Of course, it didn’t help when one of the trees collapsed in a heap and crashed into the Palladian window upstairs, the plastic stand cracked in three places rendering it useless. We never recovered after that.

Pam did manage to address a bunch of Christmas cards, so we got that going for us.

Here’s the thing. When there are no kids at home it’s hard to summon any meaningful urgency. Kids are the engine that powers Christmas. Without them it’s so much easier to procrastinate. But here it is December the 8^th, only 17 days until Christmas and I haven’t even put the lights on the holly tree out front. At this pace, we will be one of those weird couples that put up their decorations on Christmas Eve and then take them down on New Year’s Eve. What’s the point?

Maybe it was a mistake to watch “Christmas With the Cranks” the other night. I was against it, but Pam and Kaitlin insisted. Terrible movie. Poorly written, badly acted, moronic dialogue, and yet a compelling story line. Skipping Christmas in favor of a Caribbean vacation? Sounds fascinating actually. Set aside for a moment the fact that if we all skipped Christmas, the country would fall into an economic quagmire that would make the Great Depression look like Shangri-La. Also, set aside the millions of crestfallen toddlers scarred for life by the selfishness of their parents. Once you get past a few negatives, a couple of weeks on the beach sipping Pina coladas and munching conch fritters sounds pretty darned good right about now.

I’m sure we will ultimately rally. We will wake up some Saturday shaking in panicked horror at the fact that there are only ---- days left until Christmas. Pam will start barking out orders, then follow it up with some sort of computerized to-do list sent directly to my cell phone. The kitchen will explode into action, cranking out cookies and banana bread seemingly by itself while the dining room gets transformed into present-wrapping central. My bank will begin a series of calls warning me about “unusually high use volume” on my credit card. Lucy will curl herself up into the fetal position in some corner of the house, terrified by the chaos.

Then we will find ourselves all dressed up sitting in a row together at the Grove Avenue Christmas Eve service wondering how we ever managed to get it all done. Since it will be the first time that either of us has sat down in two weeks, Pam and I will fall asleep during the reading of Luke 2….and it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that ZZZZZZZZZZZ…

Too Good To Check

What the hell?

Just about the time I have finally simmered down after reading of the horrific rape at UVA, word comes that Rolling Stone no longer has confidence in the story and apologizes to everybody for publishing it in the first place. Their exact words were:

“In the face of new information, there now appear to be discrepancies in Jackie's account, and we have come to the conclusion that our trust in her was misplaced. We were trying to be sensitive to the unfair shame and humiliation many women feel after a sexual assault and now regret the decision to not contact the alleged assaulters to get their account. We are taking this seriously and apologize to anyone who was affected by the story.”

Hmmm, “we apologize to anyone who was affected by the story.” Does that include me? I sure was affected by this story and I’m here to tell you, Rolling Stone, I do not accept your apology. At a time when journalism has become about confirming and advocating agendas, not the honest pursuit of truth, a simple apology isn’t going to cut it. This story was apparently too good to check. This writer set out to write a piece about rape culture and was simply too willing to accept testimony that confirmed her own beliefs and biases. But, that’s what editors are for. That’s what the Perry Whites of the world do. They bark at their reporters for “sources, sources and more sources!!” But even in the make believe world of the Daily Planet, the barking is done BEFORE the story goes to print.

To those out there who ask, “Do you actually think that an accused rapist would agree to be interviewed?” My answer is that if a writer came up to me and said, “Mr. Dunnevant, I’m writing a 9000 word story that’s going to appear in the Rolling Stone about a girl named Jackie who is accusing you and 8 of your buddies of repeatedly raping her at a frat party in 2012,” I would absolutely either A. Tell her that it was a lie or B. contact my attorney and give her a “no comment.” Either way, the reporter has something to write and has made a good faith effort to get the other side of the story, which I understand is Journalism 101.

Instead, not only have many key details of the story collapsed under scrutiny, but the last remains of my confidence in journalism lies in tatters on the floor.

The problem with advocacy journalism disguised as news reporting is that it segregates us into information ghettos. If I lean conservative in my politics, I watch Fox News. If I lean liberal, I watch pretty much everything else. But regardless, I know in my heart that I’m being lied to at some level by all of them. Everyone has an agenda. Every story has an angle. I’m so tired of it all.

I shed no tears for the frats at UVA, but I do shed tears for the truth.

Ilma Stone R.I.P.

I was in South Carolina on business when I got the news that Ilma Stone had passed away. For many years she was my Mom’s best friend so her loss saddened me at first. But then the idea entered my head that the two of them are reunited in heaven and I couldn’t help smiling. Like my parents, Ilma’s final years were plagued by declining health, so belief in an afterlife where she has been made whole is a comfort. Still, every time I think of Ilma I smile. I can’t help it. She always made me laugh. Let me explain.

Forty years ago, I was a cocky, wisecracking teenager. It was about this time when I was introduced to my mother’s new friend, Ilma Stone. She was a very pretty lady with an infectious laugh who could be laughing one minute and crying the next. She and Mom were always sitting at the dining room table nibbling on pound cake, sipping iced tea and talking about Jesus. That’s pretty much all I ever saw them do together. Sometimes their discussions would get pretty intense. I would bound down the stairs and pass by them on my way to the kitchen and find Ilma sitting there with tears running down her face. I would always go over and hug her and ask if she was ok. She would always smile and hug me back. Then every once in a while I couldn’t resist saying, “Hey, look Ilma…a CAT!!” She would always scream and nearly jump out of her chair and onto the table. I thought it was great fun but Mom would always fuss at me for being so mean. Ilma was more afraid of cats than anything in the universe so naturally, I always kidded her about it. Somehow she loved me anyhow.

Tomorrow, I will attend her funeral, the first such occasion I’ve been to since Dad passed away. There will be a viewing before the service. I used to hate everything about funerals. But now that I’ve been through two big ones, not so much anymore. Besides, this is Ilma. I know where she is and who she’s with.

Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Another Dead Black Man

Eric Garner, the latest very large black man to be killed by the police, was a 43 year old father of six with a rap sheet that included 31 arrests. Therein lies the Grand Canyon-sized chasm between white and black America. I don’t know anyone 43 years old who has 6 kids, and I have never been in the presence of a single solitary person who has been arrested 31 times.

We have all seen the video a hundred times by now. There is Mr. Garner resisting an attempted arrest by several NYPD officers, one of whom slips around behind and wraps an arm around his neck wrestling him to the ground. Somewhere in the ensuing melee, Eric Garner breathes his last. Officer Daniel Pantaleo, who administered the chokehold was placed on office duty after the incident, then the case was sent to a Grand Jury for review. Yesterday that Grand Jury acquitted Pantaleo and charged him with…nothing.

What heinous crime was Mr. Garner guilty of? What horrible act was he in the midst of committing that would have justified such a violent apprehension? He was selling loose, unregistered, (un-taxed) cigarettes…loosies. Wait,…what?

You see, in New York City, politicians have declared tobacco to be worse than practically any substance on earth. It has been the goal of the powers that be to eradicate its use both inside and out. To this end they have taxed cigarettes out of reach of most New Yorkers. A pack costs $11.00, half of that price lines the bank accounts of governments from Washington to Albany to New York City. If I didn’t know better I would think that somebody set out to create a black market. “Hey everyone, I know what we should do! Let’s make cigarettes twice as expensive in New York as they are anywhere else in the country. That way, we’ll create a huge incentive for crooks in Kentucky to bring their 4 dollar-a-pack cigarettes up here where they can sell them on the street for 8 dollars a pack. That will save smokers in our city 3 bucks a pack and rob us of revenue while making illegal cigarettes a thriving black market!!”

I’m all for law and order and I generally support the police over perpetually aggrieved race pimps like Al Sharpton, but when I watch the video of Mr. Garner’s final moments on this earth, I can’t help thinking…all of this over selling illegal cigarettes? The NYPD has nothing better to do than go after some 43 year old man selling contraband smokes? Whatever happened to proportionality? How about the punishment fitting the crime?

I would imagine that in a city the size of New York there are probably hundreds of thousands of laws and ordinances on the books. No police force is equipped to enforce them all. Decisions have to be made because of budgetary restraints, prosecutorial discretion must be exercised. We see this all the time. For example, it is illegal for anyone under the age of 21 to consume alcohol in the United States and yet, every Friday and Saturday night on most college campuses, an orgy of law-breaking takes place in full view of the local police. The police decide that there are bigger fish to fry.

For the life of me I cannot understand why the cops in New York City felt compelled to take this type of aggressive approach to apprehending a cigarette salesman. Seriously? How do they actually expect someone 43 years old with 31 arrests to make a living? At least he wasn’t selling black tar heroin to school kids. As parents we pick our battles, we seldom choose to die on the hill of forgetting to make the bed. In the grand scheme of deviance in a city like New York, Eric Garner forgot to make his bed. Now he’s dead.

President Obama has pledged 75 million dollars to outfit police officers with cameras that he says will reduce confrontations. This particular crime was recorded on tape for all to see over and over again on CNN. The result was another acquittal of a police officer accused of murdering a black man. Maybe Pantaleo’s actions didn’t rise to murder. But to be cleared of any wrong doing? Excessive force?  Wrongful arrest technique? Anything?

On this one, I’m with the protesters.

Cameras For Cops?

President Obama has responded to the Ferguson riots by convening another White House meeting that he hopes will begin another “national conversation” about race, which by my count will be the 16^th such conversation since he's been in the White House. It seems that we have had a national conversation about little else during his Presidency. But this time he intends to do more than just talk. Yesterday he announced a 74 million dollar plan to outfit up to 50,000 cops with lapel pin-sized cameras to record their interactions with citizens. It is hoped that the knowledge that such interactions are being recorded will improve the behavior of the police and give people of color more confidence that they will be treated fairly. Ok. Fair enough.

I would like to suggest that the President take this program one step further. How about we spend a far smaller sum to equip all 535 members of Congress with cameras? Perhaps if Nancy Pelosi, Charlie Rangel, John Boehner and Mitch McConnell knew that their interactions were being recorded, it would improve their behavior. While he’s at it, how about slapping one of those babies on Eric Holder? I mean, it’s a well known fact that the American people hold a dim view of politicians in general and Washington DC in particular. The popularity of Congress is at historic lows. What better way to restore some trust than a little transparency? Lapel cameras for all politicians should do the trick.

My New Blog Template...and a shameless plug

When you run a business, everything is about momentum. The day to day pace of work is carried along by whatever you happen to be working on each day, which leads to the next thing, then the next. So when a long weekend comes along like a five day Thanksgiving break, it can be difficult to find your place again. The older I get the more difficult this is to do. Just as it is hard to turn around a battleship or to start a 30 car locomotive from a dead stop, so it is with restarting a business enterprise that has laid dormant for nearly a week. If you work for someone else, it’s the job of your boss to get you restarted. When you work for yourself and your boss is sometimes a confused jerk, well you might have problems. This morning, I’m a confused jerk.

Over the holiday weekend my son volunteered to redesign my Blog. It was his considered opinion that the Tempest layout was tired and cheap looking. So, while I was outside getting up leaves he sat about reworking everything. By the time he was done, the fake bookshelf background was gone and there was a big link imploring readers to buy my new book. Pretty cool.

Now that Thanksgiving is over, our attention will soon turn to Christmas shopping. When I say soon I actually mean at some point. When I use the word attention, a better phrase might be…deliberate procrastination. So, let me write that sentence more honestly. Now that Thanksgiving is over, our deliberate procrastination will at some point give way to the job of Christmas shopping. For me, it usually begins around the 20^th. Can’t wait. This year I’m not alone, apparently. Black Friday sales have come in down 11%, a number that nobody who cares about such things expected. Several theories have already sprung up to explain the bad numbers. The one that seems to dominate is the rise of online shopping, which makes sense. Why risk having to fight off hysterical women for that last 55 inch big screen? Why risk getting trampled by the zombie mob at Walmart? Why get in a fist fight at Best Buy at 2 o’clock in the morning, when you can just point and click on Amazon while sipping your pumpkin spice latte in your pajamas as Nat King Cole sings softly from your Bose?

Speaking of pointing and clicking, did I mention that you can buy my book simply by clicking its picture at the top right hand corner of my blog???

Just saying….