Recently the State of California passed a law that requires male college students to get explicit permission from their female partners before engaging in the sex act.. The young woman has to say," Yes. Let's have sex" before the young man is allowed to begin the act of copulation. If he doesn't receive this permission with these specific words (or a variation thereof), at a later date the young woman, having regretted the encounter for some reason, is allowed to report the young man to the college or university administration as a "sexual offender." She can claim that she was "date raped", drunk, under the influence of some sort of drug, pressured into doing the nasty or that he took advantage of her during a time when she was weak and vulnerable and just wanted a hug and that turned into a session of attempted baby-making. In other words, all the onus is on the man, and he must get explicit permission from the young woman to go farther than third base. A wink and a nod will not do. Actions will not do. He must have, at least, a verbal, out loud version of, "Do me, baby!" before his BVDs go to half mast.
What the law does not say is what happens if said young and dewy-eyed co-ed goes to the campus rape reporting desk and say that Tommy Varsity took advantage of her for his own evil pleasure and she didn't say, "Hey! Yeah! Let's do something my father would kill you for doing to me. I want to do IT!", and the brute boy, upon being dragged into the campus police station on a charge of some sort of rape (the term "rape" here is very broad) says, in response to the charge, "Gee whillikers! Sally Ann not only gave me permission. She demanded that I dip my wick. I can clearly remember her saying, 'Give me six inches of your best, big boy!' And she was stone cold sober. We'd spent the night at Starbucks drinking double espressos for three hour talking about the shading in Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" But, of course, since women are the nobler sides of human nature, at least as far as the education establishment is concerned, Tommy will be kicked out of college and Sally Ann remain in college and have the added benefit of being a victim of male sexual abuse despite the fact that she did demand that Tommy give her his best (she just regretted it later when she realized that he had been making the beast with two backs with her best friend Mary Jo a day later). Unfortunately, poor old Tommy, soon to be working the fry basket at McDonald's and trying to get an apprenticeship as a dry wall hanger (good luck with that, Tommy, since you don't speak Spanish), didn't record Sally Ann's urgency on his iPhone or have her sign a paper, written up by a lawyer, for her to sign giving him permission to do something that would shock his old grey-haired mother.
For some reason, because the state college and university systems in California seem to hold themselves apart from the rest of the great unwashed citizens of the state, claims of rape, of whatever sort, are not investigated by the local city or county law enforcement authorities. Why? Who knows? Academics hold themselves apart from the rest of society in a way that Socrates and Plato would have found laughable. By the colleges and universities police themselves and, thus, claims of rape (of whatever sort) are not investigate by trained detectives, but by university cops and "equality boards" made up of politically correct academics, usually from the Women's Studies field.
During the same week a feminist group declared that the iconic photograph of the celebration of the end of World War Two of a sailor in his summer white uniform kissing a nurse in her whites was, in actuality, not a celebration between two people of the end of an awful war, but was, in fact, a photograph of a rape. The reason given by the "fighters for women's equality and foes of patriarchy) is that the man and woman did not know one another at the time of the kiss. The man just grabbed the woman, in their opinion, and planted a big old smooch on her without, I suppose, the woman giving written and notarized consent. The man in the photograph was always unknown. Several men claimed to be the sailor. The nurse, on the other hand, was known. And she said that when the end of the War was announced on the billboard oputside the N.Y. Times building she was so happy she would have gladly kissed a duck because she was so happy. She never complained about being victimized by a swabbie. In fact, she stated that she enjoyed the kiss. But our feminist betters have decided that the nurse was just a victim of the "patriarchy" and just didn't know any better. To them the woman was as raped just as if she had been thrown onto Devil's Island as the only woman among a bunch of male hardened criminals. In other words, women before about 1970 just didn't know their own minds. They were mental slaves to the male conspiracy that wanted to make all women into either Stepford Wives, for home use, or round-heels for fun. And it might, and should be noted for the sake of this argument, that the womyn (to use the 1970s spelling of the word among the hairy armpit, short-haired and awfully loud crowd) of this professional woman victim crowd are all university or college graduates, except for a few drones of the male type with wispy beards an a lot of empathy (it's a good way to get some leg -- apologize while taking the plunge ("It's just my awful male and XX chromosome that makes me want to do this, but I can't help it. And thanks for giving me permission. Just sign on the dotted line").
Which brings us to the Seven Sisters colleges back East. The Seven Sisters colleges are women's colleges which were founded in the mid to late 1800s. Now, some over 100 years later, they are all still woman only colleges despite many of their alumni demanded that the men only colleges become co-ed. And, of course, if one to say that Vassar, for example, should start accepting male students said women would say that a female only Vassar is a great tradition and givers the "second sex" a chance of a good education away from the pressures and distraction that men cause while West Point or Virginia Military Institute gain by having women in the classes because women bring a softer side to being an Army officer. In other words, the thought is to kill the enemy with kindness instead of an A-10 Warthog or M-16.
A couple of weeks ago Mount Holyoke college, which is one of the Seven Sisters, decided that it would be a good thing to accept trans-gender people as students. Truth to tell, this writer (and all here at Bloody Nib Manor) are not quite sure what a trans-gender person is. Is it a man who dresses as a woman and says that he is a woman? Is it a man who has silicon breasts and is undergoing some sort of estrogen treatment? Is it a man who has had his man-hood removed and replaced with a plastic surgeon's version of a vagina? Could it be a guy who looks like a guy with a beard and body odor who says that he feels like he is a woman inside? This writer actually heard a recording of the president of Mount Holyoke announcing this new policy and the woman was actually in tears of joy at this change. The president of the college was awfully proud of the college being "accepting" of the "other". But the fact remains that Mount Holyoke will not accept male homosexuals, effeminate men who like women for sex partners or male gymnasts or figure skaters to its hallowed halls of academia. So the whole "accepting" thing is a bunch of nonsense. What was not stated is that would a woman who decided that she was a man and had had a penile build done in her "secret area" be accepted as a student with all the joy that a lady-boy would.
The Seven Sisters colleges seem to be the source of all the above nonsense. Back in the old days when common sense reigned a man who claimed that he was really a woman or a woman who claimed that she was really a man was not called "trans-gender." That person was called just plain crazy in the same way that most East Indians call sadhus crazy despite the fact that ignorant Western tourists or "spiritual leaders" call them "holy men."
Let's face it, universities and colleges, are the hot-houses of social idiocy. They may be great to get a technical education; nursing, engineering, chemistry, physics and avionics, but when it comes to what was once known as the liberal arts they are just, for the most part, pits of bad thinking and political correctness. A father works in a steel mill 50 or 60 hours a week and drinks cheap beer to relax on the weekends in order to send his dear little daughter to Vassar or Columbia or Long Beach State and, after about one semester, he ends up with a daughter who hates him because he's part of the patriarchy that held her down because she couldn't play (because she didn't have the stuff, but she has an excuse) Varsity football in high school, or that he didn't kill the boy he caught making out with his daughter in the boy's car after the prom in high school. In other words, since the daughter has gone to a Seven Sisters (otherwise known as the Sapphic Sisters) school or has joined a Sapphic sorority under the direction of her Women's Studies professor, Dad has become a Hitler who would be as likely to shoot her in the back of the head as give her a Christmas gift. And said daughter, with her trick education in liberal arts, is pissed off because she can't work at NASA because she doesn't have the scientific education but she blames NASA for being anti-woman because an understanding of the writings of Virginia Wolffe should be as good as an understanding of physics or astronomy to get a man (or more usually a woman to Mars). So she blames her Dad because he was a guy. And once she hits 30 and realizes that being a lesbian isn't all that great because her partner won't change the light bulb or clean out the garbage can and any kid she has will be a crap shoot from the local sperm bank, decides that she's not a dyke (excuse the crudity, but I'm an old man), and finds a nice young fellow and she becomes a suburban mommy but passes on the poison she learned in college to her spoiled rotten brats who are diagnosed with Autism or ADD or hyper-activity because she wants to talk about the oppression of the patriarchy with her Vassarite girlfriends while she doesn't discipline her kids.
We're doomed.
