The Breakfast Club Rape

The "attempted rape" scene in "The Breakfast Club".  Kavanaugh is not guilty of a crime, he's guilty of time passing.  That is, if anything happened at all. 

This, by the way, was one of the movies that both he and his "victim" would have watched in that era.  This, is what was acceptable back then, and good for a laugh.  Now picture if they'd both been drinking, and in the bedroom.

Yeah.  Like that.  Two dumb kids, not knowing nothing about nothing, but she not wanting it, and he being slow to get the message.

But "rape"?  "Attempted rape"?  Hardly.  In this scene, and in what that lady Ford described, a guy tried, she rejected him, and he did NOT pursue it further.

Ladies - particularly ladies on the Left?  I know - Trump sucks.  His judicial appointment most likely sucks, too.

But rape is actually a real thing, and terrible, and what happened to Claire in this kid's movie, and what Ford says happened to her is NOT rape, nor attempted rape.

I will pray that none who think otherwise ever have cause to find out what "rape" really is.  Because it involves a lot more than you'll see in that movie, and a lot more than Ford described.

Arrest Professor Ford!

So this one time, in band camp, at my high school, over three decades ago, I was at a party drinking, and this girl, who'd been totally drinking too, but more than me, goosed me.  We called it "goosing", but it was really "unwanted and uninvited sexual contact", which is assault.  Sexual assault. 

I was embarrassed.  Hurt.  It might even have left a bruise, or at least a red mark.  Well, reddish.  Well, kind of.  I left the bathroom, cursing that I could not see my left buttock better, and I left the party, and went home, and I didn't tell my parents, as I'd have been in trouble for drinking, and I didn't tell the police, because I felt ashamed that I'd not been able to defend myself. 

For years then, while staying silent, I wrestled with issues of self-doubt and self-loathing.  Had I somehow invited that attack?  "Asked for it", as it were, due to my rockin' of my Metallica t-shirt, gym shorts, sneakers and tube socks up to my knees?

The woman who raped me?  I mean, because that's what sexual assault is, right?  Her name was Christine Ford.  That's right, the very Professor Christine Ford who now claims - hypocritically - that she was the victim of assault, at some other drunken party, when a teen boy, was briefly on top of her, fully dressed, wanted to be with her, and when rejected did not pursue it.

But I'm not coming forward now because of any political reason, or news reason, but just because only now, with the support of my spouse, do I feel comfortable with finding my voice, and letting it be heard.  I refuse to stand shuddering in the closet any more, hiding and ashamed from my abuser. 

I add my name to the growing throng of hundreds who have been brave enough to speak up about these terrors that we will no longer endure in silence.  I call at once for an FBI investigation into what happened that night, back when Reagan was facing down the Commies, to find out who was at the party, who saw what, who did what, and why we let our kids be abused in such a fashion, too fearful to come forward!

Because that's what the FBI is for, right?  To listen to those old enough to qualify for the AARP recount their kiddy keggers back in their childhood days on the playground or behind the gym? 

And when the FBI investigates my claims then, they can at least arrest her for underage drinking!  Which - like her sexual assault upon my young teen bottom - is a crime!