The series of events and twists of fate that may hopefully return some sanity and fairness to men’s lives were launched on the sunny morning of May 14th of this year in a $3,000 a night room of the Sofitel Hotel in the heart of Manhattan in New York City.
Anyone who professes not to know about it, must suffer from the “Drinking in Buffalo” syndrome. That’s when your alcohol-drowning brain goes deaf, dumb and blind and you delightfully eat the urinal cake like an epicurean delight.
But the milestone of change I’m talking about revolves around the series of treachery and duplicity that engulfed former IMF chief Dominque Strauss-Kahn — more informally known as DSK — before he was finally exonerated the other day.
Three long months ago he was charged with rape, jerked off an Air France flight, had to do the perp walk, underwent worldwide humiliation, resigned as chief of the International Monetary Fund and perhaps must sacrifice his candidacy for the Socialist Party presidency of France.
The other day the Manhattan DA and a Judge dismissed the charges. Their credible, powerful witness and accuser, Nafissatou Diallo, had lost all her viability. All her reliability.
Hell, she lied so much she must be related to my ex-wife. As, in another daughter of Diablo. Because the Philadelphia DA also had dismissed all my ex-spouse’s charges — which were more heinous and felonious – but in a couple of fewer weeks.
Just like this wench from Guinea, my ex-worse-half lost all trustworthiness. The DA got to thinking everything about my ex-wife, Stephanie Blatt, was so crooked, that if she swallowed a nail she’d crank out a corkscrew.
Afterwards I persisted to ask the Assistant DA: “Why didn’t you ever talk to me?”
Why, I asked her, is it that women readily believe a fellow woman, whether or not her story is compelling? What does the truth sound like? Taste like? Feel like? How do you recognize it? Does it come in perfume bottles?
There are 360 degrees to the truth. And my ex-lying-consort went from 359 degrees of separation to me having all the charges withdrawn, dropped, punted, excommunicated…..whatever the legal convoluted term de jour is.
Of course, while this was unraveling, my wife, Stephanie Blatt, stole my entire life and home. And, unsurprisingly, the Assistant District Attorney, by the name of Cathleen E. Thurston, just offered a brittle defensive shrug when I sought her assistance in getting my life back. She spewed: “Get a lawyer!”
Duh… I thought that’s what she was. Oh, I forgot. ADA’s probably don’t have to go to law school, just animal husbandry instruction at the local S&M parlor.
Anyway, that May morning at the Sofitel Hotel in New York with DSK and Nafissatou Diallo demonstrates — as much as in my and many such cases — how fear, stupidity ignorance and Schadenfreude provide the framework of our inane existence. One rapist may terrorize a city, but it only takes one woman to terrorize every husband in America. And, in this case, France, too.
From the moment DSK’s alleged misadventure scorched the news it kept accelerating. We all know that a lie can be halfway around the world before the truth has got its boots on.
So, once more, here is the truth. I’ve said this before and I’ll keep saying it again. And again: No man sticks his winkie into the jaws of an alligator.
Something happened in the hotel room. But whatever it was, it was either consensual, or plausibly to that effect. But nothing like what Diallo told duh police, who told duh detectives, who told duh Assistant DA, who told duh boss, Manhattan DA Cyrus Vance, Jr. (the son of President Jimmy Carter’s Secretary of State), who had him yanked off the plane and thrown in jail and set a bail somewhere approximating our national debt.
This was all based on the word of this pernicious, perfidious woman from West Africa who is 33, has a 17-year-old daughter and made all sorts of wild claims while seeking asylum in America.
With the full force of the DA and the NYC police resources competing for the marquee headlines, thousands of man hours were invested. Carpets were ripped up. Sheets and towels were analyzed. Uniforms examined…
No man knows how many folks are interested in your sperm cells and DNA cells and your skin cells and fingernail cells until you’ve had sex with a woman on a mission. And naturally, aided and abetted by police and lawyers on the neon highway to aspirations.
Spare me the he-said-she-said-and-then-duh-DA-said-notions about the rape that never was. But probably not since the assassination of JFK has there been as much investigation, examination and inquiry.
Of course, duh cops, lawyers and DA’s office painted Nafissatou Diallo on a pristine white canvas, as if she was the Madonna incarnate. They insisted she sounded credible and powerful.
Does that mean if some woman doesn’t sound credible and powerful then she wasn’t raped?
But with all white canvases, the dirt soon started smudging.
Diallo said she was gang-banged by a roving band of soldiers in Guinea.
Said 62-year-old DSK chased her butt-naked down the hallway and dragged her back to his room to force her to perform fellatio.
Lie! (Hmm…what big teeth you have, grandma…)
Said she immediately reported the assault to her supervisor.
Said she didn’t say what she did say to her fiance in a telephone conversation to his Arizona jailhouse.
Hell, I don’t know what makes such seemingly nice folks such a lying bunch of rattlesnakes. But whatever it is, it obviously works.
The trouble is that since O.J. Simpson was acquitted for the June, 1994, killing — or-not killing — his ex-wife and her friend, us men haven’t had a chance. I can’t even pay a woman a compliment without her filing some politically correct charges about the pup tent in my pants.
We all do dumb things most of the time. That’s what makes this party so grand. But 99.9% of us are ‘not’ O.J.’s or Charlie Manson’s or rapists or murderers or wife beaters. Yet we’re all treated as if we mutate into rabid werewolves under the moonlight.
Look there are quite an assortment of bad people who do bad things. And the majority of them are men. But the overwhelming majority of men don’t even consider rape. We prefer some reaction to our action. And furthermore, the only person that has ever been hit in any of my 154 relationships, is moi.
I take serious umbrage at what happened to DSK, as well as myself, as I have written in May and July essays. It is part and parcel of this egregious degeneracy by over-empowered, smug women who seek to dominate. They are blindly aided and abetted by short-changed District Attorneys and their acolytes because , by law, they can’t be sued — like everybody else — for their mistakes.
They make it seem like they are doing us a favor when they finally do drop the debauchery of charges.
There is not even an: “Oops! My bad…”
So they do what they can damn well get away with — except sometimes in the Press — and they are provided a lot of publicity for their political ambitions.
There just ain’t no common sense, no more. Our insipid laws, and those who stand by them, have displaced morals; Polls, reports, research papers and studies have displaced common sense.
You would think the cheese heads for DA would see the error of their way. But even if they do, that certainly doesn’t mean they are going to do anything about it. Too much money and opportunity in it.
Look, I know we all lie. And the real trouble with liars is that there can never be any guarantee against their occasionally telling the truth.
It gets confusing. But just because some woman screams rape, or wife-beater, or sodomizer, or what-duh-hell they scream during climatic moments, don’t make it so.
My wife knew how to ‘work’ the system. And so did Diallo. When it looked like the DA was going to drop the charges she took the unusual step of going public with Newsweek and ABC News.
And with my ex, Stephanie Blatt, well, it’s like the old saw: good girls go to heaven; Bad girls go everywhere. Stephanie spewed her prevarications to everyone, everywhere on the planet.
Why? Because she needs help. She has done this before. To others. But no one will listen to me. If she screams that I am crazy, the whole bloody precinct gang tackles me. What the heck do I know? I’m just a guy. And I must be crazy for being with her.
What most disturbs me about someone like Diallo isn’t that she is merely a liar; and a liar is a thief. It is that she is no better than the French she naturally despises as enemies for colonizing her country.
We all know what the French are. Even the French know what the French are. But Nafissatou Diallo should know better: Choose your enemies well, for it is they you become most like.
Now she has a civil suit against DSK for an unspecified amount of money. That seems even more ironic. I am certain it is her lawyer pushing for this. For like a bank robber fleeing on a horse, he is going to ride this nag till she drops.
Enough is more than enough. Let’s get back to treating one another with some figment of common decency. Perhaps I should sue my ex and DSK sue Diallo so we both can waste more years of our diminishing lives on shouting and shooting, instead of communicating with one another.
One of the placards from a Diallo supporter stated:
“All rape victims deserve a fair trial.”
DSK is the one who’s been getting raped here. And he – like me and many others who have had to battle the ignominious storm of human indignity — has received the unfairest trial of all.
And dats yDrewIS on DIS penal colony.