The ongoing Bill Cosby "debate," has been temporarily unseated by more pertinent current events, but nonetheless, I believe America is still searching for some kind of reconciliation between the 42 women who have come forward with terrifying stories of being drugged and raped, and Cosby's freedom. Hell, he's still performing on his comedy tour. Forty two women. He's telling jokes.
So, let's just assume that the criminal justice system is going to fail us. May it be due to statutes of limitation or our legal system's history of acquitting famous people with the means to afford the best defense lawyers, the law is a far cry from justice these days (e.g. Michael Brown).
Let's also assume that Cosby is never going to come clean. Oh, he's a rapist, but this isn't like Lance Armstrong's case where being caught makes the admission of guilt no big deal. Cosby won't publicly talk about rape unless it is somehow court ordered and keeps him out of jail. Highly unlikely.
With the legal system handcuffed and Cosby lacking any shame (I mean what do you expect from a rapist) -- there needs to be a solution that allows the masses some closure to the cognitive dissonance between the 80's sitcom star continuing thrive off his decades-old fame and the fact that he is a serial rapist. Forty two people. Some multiple times. Thankfully, I have found a solution.
I Solve Everything: Giving Cosby the Full Santorum Treatment
Monday, April 20, 2015 | 0 Comment(s)
You can't be lucky in every aspect of life. You can't be
good at everything. Some people
can't, gun to their head, pick the fastest toll-booth line off the
highway. Other people seem to
always be in the slow lane in traffic jams. Me, I have an utter inability to choose the fastest security
screening line at the airport.
I try to be smart about it. I don't just check out the length of each queue, but I also take into consideration children, older people, and people with a virtual
Russian nesting doll version of neon pink luggage. I do a scan of the whole area. Regardless of my careful selection process, I pick misery
each and every time.
I was travelling with my friend Steve on our way home from
Colorado this past weekend. We
left ourselves plenty of time and overall, Denver didn't let us down. While waiting in the pre-security check-in line, the TSA agent checked my photo
identification first, and therefore it fell to me to choose our conveyer belt. I looked left and right as if I were
about to cross the street. The
line just in front of me was the second shortest, devoid of children, and only
had one older person. "Ester" was directly in front of me so I could see she
was moving with no issues. There
is no room for empathic pleasantries in security line selection.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015 | 0 Comment(s)
So this past weekend I flew to Colorado to go to my friend's "bachelor weekend in nature." It was one of those ideas that sound strange at a glance, but in practice it was absolutely wonderful. Think Rocky Mountain National Park as a backdrop for a college reunion. Rocky Mountain High . . . errr . . . University.
I didn't realize how lucky I was to board my direct flight from Hartford to Denver until just before take off. I received two texts back to back. The first was from my ride in Denver, which said our Maine contingent's flight had been inexorably delayed -- at a minimum his arrival time had been delayed from 7pm, 30 minutes after my arrival, until 10pm. The second text was another friend flying to Chicago from Manchester, New Hampshire. His flight had already been all out cancelled, stranding him in the middle of nowhere. I mean, Manchester, New Hampshire -- that's NoWheresville. There was a twinge of surviver's guilt as I buckled my safety belt.
I didn't realize how lucky I was to board my direct flight from Hartford to Denver until just before take off. I received two texts back to back. The first was from my ride in Denver, which said our Maine contingent's flight had been inexorably delayed -- at a minimum his arrival time had been delayed from 7pm, 30 minutes after my arrival, until 10pm. The second text was another friend flying to Chicago from Manchester, New Hampshire. His flight had already been all out cancelled, stranding him in the middle of nowhere. I mean, Manchester, New Hampshire -- that's NoWheresville. There was a twinge of surviver's guilt as I buckled my safety belt.
Rocky Mountain National Park (photo credit: me) |
Tuesday, April 14, 2015 | 0 Comment(s)
Last week I conducted my Consumer Report testing on the experience of contracting viral meningitis, all so you wouldn't have to. The short version is, you shouldn't catch this disease.
Let's start at the beginning -- many people believe, at first glance, that this is an infection that eats your brain. That's not correct. Those are zombies. Even bacterial meningitis, the "worst of the meningitis's" doesn't eat your brain. It inflames it -- or more specifically , it inflames the membrane around the brain (and spinal cord). In viral meningitis, a virus is the mechanism of action causing the inflammation, meaning that throughout my thorough testing of said disease, I was quite literally "insane in the membrane." Take that House of Pain fans.