Days that simply get you Down..

Yesterday was, in my opinion, a bit of a crap day to be in Ireland. Not because it was May 30th and still cold. And not [just] because Fantastical Failures and the Profoundly Dumb were still in power – though that is somewhat related. But because a guy who drugged and raped a child walked off into the sunset to start his happy life all over again.

Now before I go further I want to emphasise my appreciation for the laws and constitution of the state. I get that the statutory rape law was, in the simplest sense, a ‘bad’ one. I am as appalled as anyone might be by the possibility of a 15 year old girl’s parents prosecuting her boyfriend and trying (and sometimes succeeding) to get him thrown in jail. Stupid unworkable laws and those that basically fail us irritate me as much if not more than the next person. As a final pre-empt (which i’m not even convinced is a word!), on days like today certain kinds of tabloid journalism makes me wish people still got burnt at the stake.

So now that that’s out of the way…

There are two approaches to the news that a child rapist walked free yesterday. The first is the most natural one, the easiest one.

I do not feel safe in this country. I do not like that every time I leave my house part of my brain wonders about my safety. I wonder how I should get to where I’m going, whether I should alter my route based on time of day and various other circumstances, and best yet, whether my chosen outfit will cause my hassle I don’t want. There are a disturbing number of people out there who believe if a girl wears a skirt she’s “asking for it”. Fuck that, right to hell.

It is a sad fact that women cannot feel safe in a society where violence on any level is tolerated. Women feel threatened by men on a daily basis. This is not me being hysterical, this is not me being a feminist, this is not me going on an amnesty-inspired rant (though maybe later!). This is a simple fact. Any woman walking down a street past a man or, especially, a group of men, on some basic levels feels slightly unsafe, because of one simple unavoidable fact. If “big strong man” decides he wants to kick the crap out of “fundamentally considerably weaker woman”, then big strong man can go ahead and do that and there’s very little a woman can do about it. I’ve done the self-defence classes, lots, and I even had a big brother who graced me with what we’ll call “practical lessons in self-defence” for years. But the simple fact is that every time we fought, he won. Every time the fighting stopped, I was the one who couldn’t quite stand up for a while or was bleeding or whatever. This is all very well in the context of sibling rivalry but unfortunately it carries through to everyday life. If some guy who is twice your size gets a notion to beat you up, rape or kill you, you’re pretty much done for. This is how women get to live their lives. Yippee.

Then there’s the other side of it. Like many if not most, I hope to have kids some day. If and when that happens, I want to be able to at least begin to trust the world they are coming into. I want to be able to believe that they might just be safe when they leave the house. I want to believe, that if something so awful and so unforgivable happened, then the perpetrator of a crime like the one in the news today would go away for life. And the fact that that is not the case makes me physically sick.

This part of me, we’ll call it the… emotional.. side.. can think only of the fact that the streets of Ireland are that little bit less safe today. That kids everywhere need to be that little bit more scared. That some teenager is waking up this morning knowing that the piece of shit who ruined her life forever is walking free and laughing about it. This part of me does not care about the logic of it and is wholly unconcerned about consitutionality. There are some things that are simply beyond forgiveness and raping babies is definitively one of them.

Let’s now move to the other side of my brain. The logical one. The history graduate. The lawyer’s daughter. The media scrutiniser? Okay. Here goes.

Man drugs child. Man rapes child. Man is sentenced to three years in prison. Law is abolished. Man walks free.

I’m going to be polite and focus on one part of this sentence. The bit of the story that bothered me most when I started reading about it this morning. Man is sentenced to three years in prison. For the love of .. anything… how is that possible?

I get the arguments about prison and whether it’s the right thing to do. In a lot of cases I wouldn’t agree with it, possibly in most cases. But there are some people who should not be allowed to walk free, ever again. And top of my list are those who rape children. I would quite happily place them above (or rather below?) the level of murderers, because at least with murder there’s an end put to it. Instead, kids are left physically alive but killed on the inside, and then they have to try to grow up. I am seldom speechless but my contempt for perpetrators of these acts is indescribable. They should be locked up, and the key should be thrown away. Death is too good for them. Simple as that.

And yes, this is the most rational I can be about this.

But back to my point. Three years. How on earth do we have laws in this country whereby someone who openly admits drugging and raping a baby gets THREE YEARS. What kind of system is that? Is it not bad enough that something like 90% of rape cases never lead to a conviction? Is it not bad enough that there are adults all over the country who were abused as children but their situation was ignored because “The Church” said it should be so? How the hell do you justify a sentence like three years?! I always assumed that the point of law – or perhaps of justice – was that the sentence should fit the crime. Joking aside, the fact that tax evaders can easily be sentenced to longer terms than sex offenders is absolutely pathetic. Any system, and for that matter any country, that tolerates that level of total irresponsibility should at the very best be utterly ashamed.

Again I will try to stick to the non-emotional reaction.

The papers today are announcing left, right, and centre, that a man walked free from court yesterday because a law was abolished. He was half-way through his prison term, so in other words even without this ruling he would have walked in 1.5 years anyway. What kind of place are we living, that three years later, no matter what, that evil piece of **** was going to be free?

Sometimes I am left wondering how such a great country can sometimes be so incredibly f***ed up…

Stoopid stOOpid people

I know it’s a silly thing to blog about, but bear with me.

What’s with all the idiots in the world who add their signature, as an image file, to either word documents or better still emails. Do they not understand that said signature can then be ’stolen’ from them?? Does the concept of identity theft mean nothing to them? IDIOTS!

I find it especially frustrating in the case of what might be called “authority figures”. The heads of committees and departments and such things should not be giving everyone else their signature – particularly given the danger that others will become accustomed to seeing this electronic form of their inscription and as such will accept it from wherever it might come…

eeeeeediots!!

“Remarkably self-Righteous Rant” time…

Here follows a spectacularly self-righteous rant about parenting (skills?) and/or the lack thereof.

As a disclaimer, let me add that I am fully conscious of the probability of making these mistakes and many more should I be so lucky, etc.

Two things that I saw on the way to work today (as in pre-9am) that annoyed the beejaysus out of me.

1. 13 year old girl smoking

Hard to know what annoyed me more but I think it was the casual way she was smoking, which suggested categorically that she had no fear of getting caught by concerned parents.

I don’t get how parents can let their kids smoke. I don’t mean on a street or out with friends, but it was pretty obvious this girl had never been genuinely reprimanded for the particular brand of self-harm she was engaging in.

Why put 9 months of labour and 12-13 years of hard slog and stress (not to mention serious amounts of cash) into raising a kid, and then just when they’re getting on their feet let them literally kill themselves in front of you?

There’s only one thing that irritates me more. Which leads me conveniently to…

2. Parents smoking in front of (young) kids

Toddlers should never have to breathe in second-hand smoke. In fact none of us should, and thanks to one of the few men in the Dáil with any guts or for that matter conviction, most of us can avoid it on a day-to-day basis if we want to. But then there are people like the irresponsible ***** (and no, I will not be more polite about it!) I saw today puffing smoke at her two-year-old daughter.

Pregnant women smoking annoys me just as much, or people generally smoking around pregnant women. It’s absolutely disgusting and it should be illegal. People that smoke around their kids should be locked up for child abuse because that’s what it is.

I am sometimes tempted to start a whole new blog about things not to do as a parent. If only so I can look back on it when I am one, and mock myself for being such a naive twit.

Miserable way to start a day

There’s a fun new trend in product advertising in this dear city of ours. At the end of the green Luas line (Stephen’s Green Stop), every weekday morning a different company is handing out free goodies. One day I even got a goodie-bag with about ten products and snacks in it – what I would call an old-style fresher’s week goodie bag.

So today, I alighted at said station, and saw the dudes and dudettes dressed in ridiculous colours ready to distribute their wares. I got a little excited, I’m not going to lie. Typcially in these situations you can’t see what they’re giving you til you’ve got it, and this was to prove to be my downfall.

I was landed with four of these… NOT a happy bunny!!

Ignorance… in its many forms

Commuting is bad for my mind. It also has a significant negative impact on my respect for my “fellow man”. And that’s before the stupid f***ing DART machines break again and decide I have to miss two trains because I don’t have exactly €1.95.

Assholes with Umbrellas

No this is not a new support group. This is a serious complaint about the behaviour of vertically challenged types when it’s raining.

I DO NOT CARE how small you are. I DO NOT CARE how newly blow-dried your hair is. I REALLY DO NOT CARE about your rush to get through me (not past me, through me). There is absolutely no excuse for stabbing people in the eye with the corner of your umbrella because you couldn’t see where you were going because you’re small, and your umbrella is pulled down to keep your fringe dry. It is ignorant in the EXTREME!!!!

Tourists gone BAD

Don’t worry this isn’t a ranting generalisation but an observation of a very specific incident. I sat calmly and peacefully reading my book at the DART station last night, and as I did so a woman sat down on the bench next to me – so close that she sat on my coat, despite the rest of the bench being free. Having thus disgruntled me to begin with, she waited ten minutes before (with absolutely no warning) thrusting her ticket between my eyes and my book (a sin in any reasonable society), and proceeding to speak ‘at’ me…

Can I get any train from this platform to get to Lansdowne?

The temptation to rip her ticket up before punching her in the face was very nearly too much for me. But being the proud citizen I am, I decided not to tarnish her experience of Ireland by treating her as she so clearly deserved to be treated..

The aforementioned Ignorant Tourist’s Spanish Cousin

Hours later I was standing in a newsagents in Malahide waiting to pay for my (already scanned) salt and vinegar Tayto crisps, when a spectacularly rude young spanish woman jumped in front of me, and push her selected purchase (also crisps, but much less tasty ones) across the counter towards the poor staff member.

Staff member looks at me and says “Are these yours?”

And then there was the snap

At times like this I usually allow myself to think happy evil thoughts but on the outside respond with calm and polite refutations. Not yesterday.

“No, those are not mine. This woman just decided to be spectacularly rude and jump in front of me for no good reason”

I’m not going to lie. It was kinda fun…

Tapas… YUMMY!!

Late night shopping on Thursday ruins my week. Not because of attempts to shop, but because of the stress of trying to get through the crowds to go home.

Anyway. Evening spent in specsavers. New glasses needed – I chose one [dark grey]sensible pair and one [bright red] not-so-sensible pair - and new kick-ass contacts being sorted next week. Then it was time for dinner (any excuse for a nice dinner, but an actual ‘occasion’ was an even better excuse for an even nicer meal). We realised quick enough that every restaurant in the city was full, so agreed to put our name down somewhere and come back in half an hour.

We chose Salamanca, the Tapas Bar off Suffolk Street.

Best. Decision. Ever.

Stupidly brilliant products…

Apple and Nike. It’s not a combination I can possibly appreciate. It’s like if Darth Vader and Yoda decided to join together in civil partnership and spawn some really messed-up kids. And yet, it seems to be a reality…

In the spirit of “Ka-CHING”, Nike have created yet another pair of fantastically over-priced running shoes, no doubt ‘fabricated’ by the hands of a severely underpaid and equally malnourished seven year old child somewhere in Asia. The difference this time is that Apple have joined the party.

Maybe it was only a matter of time, but I still didn’t foresee the emergence of the “Nike+ Ipod” system. What does it do? Short of making you actually fly, it attunes itself to the pace of your workout and chooses music accordingly, while broadcasting a strange voice into your head telling you how well you’re doing.

But that’s only the half of it. In typical Apple style, this information will be simultaneously broadcast to your own personal webspace, where you can track your progress/weight-loss/soullessness in full-colour, with some very funky graphics to boot.

And now for the piece-de-resistance: The Power Song. For when you’re 42 minutes into a 45-minute workout and your energy levels are running a little low. Hit the centre button of your crazy little iPod, and your Power Song of choice will play – whatever song you choose that “energises” you the most.

That’s just MAD…

It all works via a ’sport kit’ – a receiver that fits in your Nike+ shoe, and a little attachment for your iPod nano. They talk to each other, and then you buy lots of other expensive Nike+ gear to match your iPod, and your shoes, and your wireless lunacy. It’s not that it’s a purely spurious and fairly evil cash-in on our society’s obessions with both possessions and supposed healthy living. It’s just a really, really good idea…

Penguin marches on…

It’s incredible. I have such utter admiration and respect for the good people at Penguin. Somehow, every time I think they have reached the pinnacle of their creative powers, they go one better.

It started on their 70th birthday in 2005, when they released this.

Pocket Penguins are the most wonderful creation, and I include both the wheel and sliced bread in that assessment. I think the only thing that bothered me about them was how few other people I saw reading them. That and the idea that people might buy the box set purely so that it might gather dust. Very little in the world irritates me more than an unread book, and while I am to a degree guilty of this crime it is only because of the inevitability of reading a maximum of three books at a time and the simple fact that there are not yet enough hours in my day to do all the reading I would like.

But no matter. Penguin, bless them, provided the world with something infinitely more pleasurable to read on their daily commute than the current options of Metro or Herald AM [the latter is barely tolerable, the former not at all].

Penguin being Penguin, they remained unsatisfied. Realising that there must surely be some greater goal for them, they came up with forty great ideas. What utter bliss. Where before fiction had been celebrated, now the non-fiction world would have its day of glory. And what a day that was – Nietzsche, Paine, Orwell, Seneca, Aurelius, Wollstonecraft, Darwin. Brilliant. All, quite literally, brilliant.

Surely, I thought, this must be the end. No one publishing house can be so frankly fantastic as to go a step further. How wrong I was…

Yesterday, as I strolled casually through the basement of Easons, intent on acquiring a spanish dictionary (which for the record I did), I found this. Homer. Ovid. Virgil. Sinbad! Even Malory. Sometimes you have to choose between speechlessness and a simple ‘wow’. In the absence of visuals, I’ll go with the latter.

Wow.

In a no-doubt disturbing fashion, when I see things like this in bookshops my immediate reaction is “<Pause> Let us pray”.. It’s quite plausible that the gods of literature & stationery supplies are the only ones I really believe in. Plausible in my world anyway. It may just be that I’m a complete lunatic but I’d rather believe my over-enthusiasm is utterly justified and that anyone who doesn’t share it is a philistine.

I was good though. I didn’t buy them. I initially picked up five of them (bear in mind that they’re €7 each). But then I decided to be good. So I stuck to the dictionary.

Yes, I do think I deserve a medal…

RipOff is Right!

So. It turns out our esteemed leader (may I just say “guffaw“), spends €480 a week of taxpayers’ money on make-up. Which is beyond laughable by any standards.

Now, I know this money is largely the cost of the employment of make-up artists (because as observed in the Dáil yesterday, asking a man to apply his own make-up would be utterly unreasonable), but to give a little context, while adding some insight into my own life, I have compiled the following list of ‘what you can buy for €480′.

I have a minor addiction to Clinique make-up. In that I hunt down Bonus Time(s) [there's one starting today in Clery's, and it's payday, and it's my birthday soon = hurrah!!], I refuse to wear any other brand (this is based on logic, I chose Clinique in the first place because of suitability for sensitive skin and lack of crazy chemicals), and I’m even a proud member of Club Clinique.

So, explanation given, here follows a list of what you can buy from Clinique for €480 [well, £331.50, or €485.10]

			Clarifying Lotion 2 200ml		£14.00					£14.00
			Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion with Pump 125ml		£27.00					£27.00
			Liquid Facial Soap Mild 200ml		£12.00					£12.00
			Take The Day Off Make Up Remover for Lids, Lashes & Lips 125ml		£11.50					£11.50
			Colour Rub Allover Lustre 11ml Rose Lustre		£14.50					£14.50
			Lash Doubling Mascara 8g Black		£12.50					£12.50
			High Impact Mascara 8g Black		£12.50					£12.50
			Quickliner for Eyes 0.3g Roast Coffee		£11.00					£11.00
			Quickliner for Eyes 0.3g Indigo		£11.00					£11.00
			Colour Surge Eye Shadow Super Shimmer 2.5g Blue Lagoon		£11.00					£11.00
			Colour Surge Eye Shadow Super Shimmer 2.5 Purple Pixie		£11.00					£11.00
			Colour Surge Eye Shadow Duo 2.5g Strawberry Fudge		£14.00					£14.00
			Touch Tint For Eyes Pearl Formula 7ml Nude Sparkle		£12.00					£12.00
			Touch Tint For Eyes Pearl Formula 7ml Shimmer Frost		£12.00					£12.00
			Colour Surge Eye Shadow Quad 4.8g Plum Seduction		£19.00					£19.00
			Colour Surge Impossibly Glossy 14ml Braisin		£11.00					£11.00
			Sheer Shaper for Lips 1.2g Black Honey		£10.00					£10.00
			Colour Surge Bare Brilliance Lipstick 4g Waterviolet		£12.00					£12.00
			Almost Lipstick SPF 15 1.9g Almost Blush		£12.00					£12.00
			Almost Lipstick SPF 15 1.9g Black Honey		£12.00					£12.00
			Gentle Light Powder 27g Glow 2		£18.50					£18.50
			Airbrush Concealer 1.5ml Fair		£15.00					£15.00
			Almost Makeup SPF 15 45ml Light		£17.50					£17.50
			Perfectly Real Compact Makeup 11g Shade 06		£18.50					£18.50

		Subtotal		£331.50

Please take a moment to appreciate that the above constitutes what could only be described as a complete (or even ‘excessive’) make-up collection. And that’s how much you could buy for ONE WEEK’s worth of Bertie’s spending.

Feck the L’Oreal jokes: The man is not worth it…

What font is this?

I’m not going to lie, I’ve become a little obsessed with the inappropriateness of the title font on this page (i.e. the post-titles, not the page title). I hate it. Utterly. The problem being I also intensely dislike all the other layout options. The time may be near to move elsewhere (naturally taking my blog with me).

We shall see…