Monthly Archives: June 2014

UO Punishes Maybe-Rapists (or maybe they’re not)

bball in jail

Sort of a Disclaimer:

Gosharoony, I’m on a roll lately; yesterday I’m supporting opioid use (well, sometimes, for some people), today I’m –or at least will be accused of– supporting rape and rapists, blaming the victim, being a proponent of “rape culture*”, and just generally being all-round vile. I’ll be right down there with the “legitimate rape” guy and his compatriot the “real and genuine rape” dude, with the genius who implied that God sanctions rape to give the gift of pregnancy and his compatriot the “God chose to bless [the rape victim] with a gift” fella, and their team member who called rape another of God’s method of conception, and their female teammate –turns out it’s a big team– who said God plans rapes (that naughty scamp God, He’s much wilder and crazier than I ever imagined).  Heck, I’m practically in bed (so to speak) with good ole Wisconsin state Senator Roger Rivard quoting his Daddy warning him about those girls who are “easy to rape.”

And of course all those mentioned above are Republicans and it’s downright horrifying to think that I’ll be accused of siding with not just Republicans but with Far-Right Tea Party Republican Nut Jobs. But I suspect that the FRTPRNJs will not be hopping on my bandwagon of wishing that the three young African-American men were actually proven guilty before they get punished, because, you know, the FRTPRNJs probably think….they’re black, so they’re no doubt guilty of something anyway.

So I moved these explanatory paragraphs up to the front, hoping that it’d help stay (or at least slow down) the mob with the torches and pitchforks. Call me chicken.

Finally, the meat:

So you’ve heard of baby-rapers; a foul creature and no argument. Here in Eugene we have Maybe-Rapers; three University of Oregon basketball players have been banned from the UO for four years—three uncharged, never-tried, never-found-guilty players. Three players whom the local DA declined to charge because of lack of evidence that a crime had been committed. A reading of letters to the editor of the Eugene paper indicates that few folks around here seem concerned about them, other than wanting to make sure they’re punished for something no one has proven they actually did.

God knows I do not mean to minimize the gravity or horror of rape; being raped has to be about as bad as it gets in this life. But having your future ruined by unproven accusation is no minor matter, either. Carol Stabile, the director for the UO’s Center for Study of Women in Society*, was quoted as saying the suspension is “keeping the students safe, so bravo for that.” Who’s kept safe? From what? Mz Stabile makes it sound as if the three had been charging about, attacking every female they saw. No one has hinted such a thing, though supporters of the “Punish them!” crowd have gotten considerable mileage from the fact that apparently one of the players had been the target of a sexual assault investigation (again, no charges in that one either). Those ‘presumed innocent’ young men aren’t being kept safe from anything. The police report called it consensual sex. Nobody knows exactly what happened except the participants, though detailed accounts (including the woman’s own telling) are awfully murky. Those players may be having their futures destroyed because a young woman experienced regret.

It would not be outside the realm of possibility for a young woman to go a little wild at a college party and engage in –or experiment with—risqué behavior. Or for her to wake the next morning to imagine her parents screaming, “You did what with WHO!?!” At this point, her options are limited. One is to determine to grit her teeth and stand her ground if her parents do find out and go ballistic. This is, to say the least, difficult if not terrifying. It would combine regret, shame, embarrassment, and owning up to an act of misbehavior that shocks and appalls her parents. It involves…what an icky word…responsibility.


Another option is to insist her participation wasn’t voluntary. Just shovel the nuances and ambiguities over the cliff, take the responsibility, the blame, and everything else and dump it on the guys. Scream “Rape!”  You can’t change the past, but you can spin the narrative.


The recounting of her story as it appeared in the paper made it sound as if she sorta protested, a little bit, in a way. It started at a party, with several people about including some who were the woman’s friends. If the three guys forced her into a bathroom, then through the crowd, out of the apartment, into a car, to a different apartment, then either everyone at the party was complicit in the kidnapping or she didn’t display resistance, in fact pretty much helped things along. Again, here I go blaming the victim, right? But if guys are saying “Let’s do this, then go somewhere else and do that,” and the girl is not intoxicated (the case in this instance, according to everyone except this victim herself), laughing, giggling and sorta-but-not-really saying no once or twice but going along (apparently) willingly, telling friends who ask that everything’s okay, what the heck are the guys supposed to think? It seems the protesters with their “No Rape Culture!” signs are demanding that young men be mind readers and prognosticators, to realize that the woman who is participating in and helping along the process while maybe giving mixed signals really isn’t participating or helping, she’s actually fighting in a new way.

Mature Einsteins couldn’t manage that level of mentation, forget twenty-somethings at a party, even if they’re not wasted. Anyone who’s ever been at a rowdy college party knows damned well that just being surrounded by a crowd of people at the apex of their “I’m gorgeous & invincible” phase, with hormones carbonating out into the very air like the Horny Fairy has been waving around her bubble wand, that even if you’re straight-up sober your IQ can plummet like a rock. It’s like the mental version of a contact high –everyone around you is acting stupid, so you do too. Of course, chances are high [heh heh] that you’re getting a real contact high as well, especially if we’re talking about a party here in Eugene, Orygun, the greatest Last Bastion of Hippieland (and Hempieland), since housing prices in Boulder got so insane. Jeez, the hippies here must be going bonkers at the fact that Boulderites get to enjoy legal pot before they did. But i digress…one of my specialties.

Where were we? Ah, The Three Little Maybe-Rapists. And of course, the real crux of the botheration for me is, I can’t help but wonder at the woman’s race. The players are black, the woman’s race isn’t indicated in any news reports that I’ve been able to find. I’m guessing she’s Caucasian. This is based only in part on the fact that the incident occurred in Eugene, where damn near everyone is Caucasian except for the sports team members. (whee! Now I can be reviled for ‘playing the race card!’). Yes, even in oh-so-liberal Eugene, a white girl having sex with three young black men could be cause for her to worry about her parents’ reaction† If the hues were reversed, would the three white players be suspended? I’d bet not.

It really bothers me that those who violently protest against “the rape culture” are themselves so eager to conduct a witch hunt, to celebrate the destruction of three guys’ lives who haven’t been and certainly never will be charged, much less convicted, of a crime. Maybe the three wouldn’t have gone on to become NBA stars anyway; I don’t actually follow basketball so I have no idea how good they are. But even if you completely ignore their putative basketball careers, having “kicked out of UO for four years (or more) because of sexual assault accusations” is hardly going to be a résumé builder. Presumably they also came to college at least in part to get an education (perhaps I’m showing my naiveté again) so they could have a career of some sort. I’d guess that most careers are now closed to them forever.

I have enormous amounts of sympathy and empathy for rape victims…I’ve not been attacked by strangers, nor tied down or beaten up in the bushes, but I have experienced rape. It occurred in such a way that prosecution or even having charges brought or anything else was impossible, so only one person other than myself knows about it. But I really am enraged by sexual violence, and strongly believe that rapists should suffer serious torture. But I also believe that someone should be proven to be an actual rapist –to the fullest extent that proof is possible these days– before the punishment begins


*Another one of those phrases that sound impressive (and fit nicely on protest signs), but…I’m not convinced that it really means a whole lot. On the other but, we live in The  Sound Bite Era, and it’s perfect for that.

**The university has a ”Center for Study of Women in Society”?? Despite spending most of my life in academia (albeit mostly in science), there are times when I can understand the sneers of the feed cap-wearin’, chaw chewin’, down-with eddication types. The higher education part of me understands the point –and need—of such a study, but another part of me can’t help but roll its inner eyes and wonder if Center publications spell the female gender “womon” and instead of pronouns “he” & “she,” use “ur” or “zir” or “his’er” and “sh’he” and in other ways spends massive amounts of time and energy battling ancient semantics when other, tangible, serious issues need more attention.

†No, I don’t know where she’s from. Even today, it’d be cause for her to worry no matter where she’s from. I realize I’m doing a lot of speculating based upon little data here, but these guys got banned from a university –i.e. got their futures completely ruined– based pretty much upon speculation, so I‘m okay with it.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Dat ole devil pain & dem evil, evil opioids

I just saw the article “When Prosecution Replaces Prescription” in Pain Medicine News ( & I (momentarily) felt hopeful. It certainly starts out promising, mentioning the shame and stigma associated with chronic pain and how that leads patients to (among other things) try to conceal their chronic pain…though I do note with a weary sigh that in selecting the pronoun for the hypothetical pain patient, they just had to use “she.”*
At any rate. The article goes on to suggest that though opioids are evil, vile things that for the most part shouldn’t be given to anyone ever (I’m paraphrasing), there really is a subpopulation of cp sufferers for whom evil opioids are the only option for relief, and therefore those evil opioids (EOs) need to remain available to that population (I’m paraphrasing a lot; henceforth unless you see quotation marks, that’s what’s happening).

However, of course, and naturally, the article has to then leap up & shout about how horrible the abuse of evil opioids is, how tragic, etc. It mentions another tactic in our wildly successful ‘War on Drugs’  (insert  large sarcastic sneer here) now being tried is to prosecute doctors for prescribing the EOs. This tactic is in addition to prosecuting & persecuting patients, also blackballing them, treating them like criminals or malingerers or lazy whiners who just wanna get high, as well as all those other massively successful tactics tried thus far.

I know it’s tragic that people do awful and criminal things to get their high, and sometimes kill themselves  with it, but I gotta confess that my sympathy for those types is limited. I earned a graduate degree in dealing with an addict long before I ever even started high school, and one of the many lessons I learned about them is, they are gonna get high no matter what you do, no matter how you punish them, and even no matter how much you punish and make life miserable for legitimate pain patients. Let me repeat the crux there so it stands out:

They. Are. Gonna. Get. High.

I learned this direct from the horse’s mouth as well as from observation. I watched my decent, intelligent, wonderful parents and then my mother battle my vile, four-years- older sister (henceforth known as “The Spawn of Satan”, or TSOS) for years. That fight destroyed my parents’ marriage, their health, and nearly their minds. When TSOS was in her mid-to-late teens my mother and stepfather forcibly (in all senses of the word) put her in rehab, multiple times. Every time they did it, she told them with impressive firmness that it would do no good, they were wasting their money, because the moment she got out she was going straight to her connections and get high. No matter what they did or how much money they spent, that’s what was going to happen. And it did. Repeatedly. When she finally was out of the house –a bizarre, tornadic combo of her leaving voluntarily and being forced out (with stops along the way for her to physically attack my mother, among other charming events), she ran out of people to give her money and got bored with trying to steal it, and became that staple of old TV shows, the hooker on the street who turns tricks to support her habit…she had a pimp who beat her up and everything.  Because she wanted to get high (and no, I’m not going to touch upon the argument of ‘want vs need’ here; that’s endless, unresolvable, and basically irrelevant).

Trying to deal with an addict destroyed my family, nearly destroyed me physically and probably did (at the very least) screw me up mentally. Instead of following in TSOS’s footsteps, I tried to go as far in the other direction as possible to ‘make up for her.’ No matter how perfect her grades are, how quiet & good & well-behaved she may be, how helpful or kind or teacher’s pet-ish or anything else, one sibling cannot be “good enough” to balance out bottomless evil. Can’t be done. Also, no matter how wonderful parents are, if they’ve got one Tasmanian Devil and one studious, house-trained mouse, the mouse is going to be left alone a LOT.

Anyhow, I digress. I know from addicts, all too well.** No matter how much you torture and threaten and harass and generally make cp patients’ lives miserable, you’re not going to keep those high-addicts from getting high. Stop manufacturing pain medicines entirely, establish a perfect ban at the borders so that not one single molecule of actual pain medicine reaches the US, those folks are going to get high on SOMETHING. Heroin, shrooms, sterno, glue, paint, gas, there’s a zillion things that people have found or made over the centuries to get high with/on. It’s been around since before humans, when birds and animals flock to fermenting fruit and stagger around drunkenly, dolphins sucking pufferfish toxins, lemurs on centipedes, etc…as the song says, ‘Birds do it…even educated fleas do it,’ though I ain’t talking about falling in love; I’m talking about getting stoned out of their gourds.

I’m not saying all these folks (or critters) are hopeless and should just be locked up or euthanized or something, just that it does not do them any good to make life impossible for legitimate pain patients. The current tactics in the ‘War on Drugs’ isn’t accomplishing much of anything except punishing folks who’ve committed the unforgivable sin of getting injured, of being born crooked or with syndromes or screwed up physiologies.  We are not trying to get high, unless you consider that term to mean reducing daily, constant, grinding agony to tolerable levels so you can actually do something than other than pray for relief or death is “getting high.” It does feel good to go from every breath an agony to feeling okay enough to stand up and walk the dog or plant a flower, I am forced to confess. I don’t get stoned or giddy, but sometimes I do actually feel almost happy when the overall pain level decreases to the point where I feel somewhat human, like a relatively functional being who could actually enjoy life somewhat for a few hours.***

And as we all know, somewhere deep in this psychotic, quasi-Puritanical, extremely judgmental society, a considerable number of people are profoundly convinced that it’s wrong to feel good if that state is achieved by anything other than say, making money (especially if you do it by grinding little people under your spiked soles –that’s cheered!). Pain builds character. Everyone feels pain at times, what makes ours any worse? Other people deal with pain without opioids. Other people also treat it with things other than opioids –why don’t you?!?! (Soon I’ll attach a list of the non-EO things I have tried…it’s a long list & I’ve been typing way too long).

And so forth. It’s even better with migraines; non-visible, non-testable, mostly non-provable. Surely they can’t really be so bad that you have to stay in a pitch-dark room for days on end, not even sipping water due to the violent nausea, at times literally beating your head against a wall because it does feel better between slams.  After all, everyone gets headaches now ‘n’ then, why am I such a wimp? Just stop whining & faking & get up!! Besides, everyone knows that opioids are not the ideal treatment for migraines; try some of the recommended treatments, for heavens sake! (another, even longer list).

Yeah, I’m a pain suffer. Debilitating, excruciating, multi-faceted pain. Pain that rules and suffocates my entire life, my complete soul. Opioids are the only things that help, and I’ve tried every single freaking remedy that anyone has ever thought of for several types of pain. Well okay, there is one I didn’t try,  a sure-fire headache remedy told to me by a sweet, older Chinese woman on a plane; get fresh cow’s brain, boil overnight, discard the water & boil another night. Discard that water, boil a third night, then drink that water all at once. This was at the height of the mad cow disease hysteria, and even now I find I look askance at cow brains, even thoroughly boiled ones. I haven’t that much faith in the USDA. I’ve tried everything else including chiropractic (& we’ve seen elsewhere some of what I think of it), but on that one, yes, I remain a cowardly wimp.

I’m a pain sufferer. I don’t want it, sure as hell didn’t ask for it. I hate it. Hate, detest, loathe it. My two greatest  joys in life used to be reading and athletics –I love movement, competition, sweating, being strong, being fit. Don’t get to do any of that much any more; they ended in 2001 when I had thoracic surgery. I am not a vile, lazy malingerer. But I am a pain patient, and I am so insanely tired of being vilified and blocked at every turn because some people do naughty things with the drugs that can make my life tolerable. I am sick of people looking down at me –especially judgmental doctors who KNOW I’m nothing but a drug seeker because of the migraine plus opioid combo. Never mind the fact that one of the best neurologist/pain doctors in the country worked on me for decades and tried literally everything before finally admitting that opioids really were the best thing for me overall.  Then they decide he’s a loser, which really, really ticks me off; he’s a brilliant, patient, freaking saint who tried for years to help one of the most (unintentionally!) frustrating patients who ever lived. Those bozos won’t even attempt to try or think.

I digress again. There’s just so much to rant about, so little time.

My heart goes out to anyone who really understands what I’m talking about, because that means that you’re dealing with grinding misery and massive frustration and anger (and let’s not forget our ole pal depression!). To toss out one of the great understatements of all time, this sucks, don’t it?

(I seem to’ve wandered far afield from the article. It was a pretty decent article, all in all. It’s just the subjects of pain or opioids or the ever-lovin’ War On Drugs are so snarled & charged &  immediate, that it’s mighty tough for me to stay on a straight & narrow path.

*I’m well aware that statistically, women are the vast majority of chronic pain sufferers…which of course is because we all know that broads are weak, whiney, have no pain threshold, pill-poppers on the hoof. I is one, btw –a woman, that is, not the other stuff. I’m merely translating the blaring attitude of many of the people I’ve run across in my decades of cp (chronic pain; I’m tired of typing that term) –many of whom have been doctors.

**I am all too dreadfully aware that the instant anyone learns that not only has their been ‘addictive persoalities’ in my family, but my full sibling was a drug addict, I am forever labelled as another addict who is trying to rationalize her own criminality by pretending to have “legitimate” “needs” for pain medicine. If anything, TSOS is the better person for at least being honest about wanting to get high, right? I’m such a cowardly weasel that I use the underhanded ploy of “but I’m really hurting!” Riiiiiight.

***someday I’d like to get high, I think, just once. I’ve never gotten high from my pain relieving Evil Opioids, though I did feel pretty loopy when they gave me Versed for an endoscopy. Oh, and  twice I went to a Doc-In-A-Box in Texas with migraines so severe that I would’ve begged in the street for one of those Texas cowboy types to shoot me, if I coud’ve gotten to the street. At the clinic, I was given a nubain shot; it made me feel a little as if the inside of my skull had been filled with helium. Since before the shot, my skull had been filled with exploding atomic bombs, barbed wire, rabid mongooses, white-hot daggers, all being crushed from without by a giant vise, that helium felt pretty freaking good. I don’t know if that was high or ‘merely’ indescribable, incredible relief from intolerable pain.  Don’t really care, either.


Filed under health/pain stuff, medical

Chiropractors, Confusion, and Coroners, plus Migraines

I’ve had debilitating migraines for decades and have tried every supposed cure known to medical science, as well as “natural” remedies and those mentioned in folk tales, wives’ tales, quackery, rumor, myth, and anywhere else. The term “long strange journey” might’ve been coined for this quest for relief. I’m not going to go into a list, because I’d burn out my keyboard and my fingers, but a local chiropractic clinic put an entertaining addition to their sign a while back which I find pretty hilarious. It provides comic relief, if not actual headache relief.

A month or so ago this small clinic changed their sign to announce a new staff member. They provide a single fact about the new person, which I assume is meant to be a draw for clients. The marvelous feature of the new person….he’s a Certified Medical Examiner.

Oooookay….maybe I’ve spent way too much time reading murder mysteries & non-fiction about the Body Farm & history of forensics & famous MEs (not to mention watching Law & Order & such), but aren’t MEs supposed to be for DEAD people? I’ve long believed that chiropractors are quacks, but not bad enough to need an actual ME in the office. I didn’t think they actually killed off their clients when they were adjusting their “subluxations” (first time I heard the term it struck me as a majorly pseudo-medical-sounding word if I’d ever heard one). Granted, having an ME right there would speed up the legal process if they did whack a client, but as an advertising draw it leaves something to be desired.

I saw a documentary many years ago about a guy who made pretty good money as a plain ole chiro, then decided he wasn’t getting rich enough fast enough. He started teaching a course for other chiros. The fee for the course was a million bucks. However, he had a money-back guarantee; if they didn’t make at least a million the first year after taking his course, and applied his strategies, he’d return the fee. He said he’d never had to return a fee; he taught ’em how to pull in the suckers and keep ’em coming back, thus bleeding them dry.

Despite this reinforcing my deep suspicion regarding chiropractic, I have actually gone to a couple (maybe 3) of them over the years, so desperate have I been to find ANYTHING which’d help the headaches. It, they, didn’t.

One of ’em I actually got “treatment” from for free, in return for tutoring him in an “advanced” bio course he had to take to keep his certification. This genius, who’s name I’ll never reveal lest he come sue my fanny, barely passed even with my expert help…and it was no more advanced than the undergrad bio course I taught in grad school.

Lest I sound as if I am completely against the practitioners, I know there are many people who’ve been relieved of all sorts of conditions by chiropractors, but (alas) I’m not one of them. And when I see claims that chiro can cure things like allergies or diabetes or cancer or such, I want to do something violent. And I do have positive thoughts about some chiros, notably Lorraine Toussaint, the African-American actress (actually I suppose it’d be more accurate to call her the Trinidadian actress) who played an ME for all too few episodes of “Crossing Jordan,” which was set in the Boston ME’s office. The show had several good MEs, but Ms Toussaint is one of my favorite actresses, just behind CCH Pounder. And Ms Pounder is actually playing an ME in the new show NCIS: New Orleans, a fact which is going to force me to actually come up with a functional television (unless I can watch it streaming, in which case I can remain happily TV free, since I almost never watch). There are exceptions, though; I’ve long thought CCH Pounder is one of the coolest women who ever walked, and just have to see her portray an ME, since I’m also fascinated by forensic medicine. I loved her on “Warehouse 13,” along with Saul Rubinek. The two actual stars of the show are okay, but Mrs Frederick & Arty rock…which is probably proof of my advancing age.

I digress. Chiropractors have never done anything for me medically, but at least they sometimes provide me with entertainment…namely, every time I drive by that sign. Some day I may go in and find out the real story, but I doubt it. My (probable) misapprehension of some fact is much more amusing.

Leave a comment

Filed under humor, medical, Non-fiction, Non-fiction oddball