Thus, the logic of the feminist argument to “Teach men not to rape” is revealed.
Yes because it’s such a radical notion to expect rapists to control themselves.
Uh, we do tell thieves not to rob, though. We actually spend a lot of energy teaching kids that stealing is wrong. We keep trying to teach them it’s wrong through their teens and adult years.
And when someone gets robbed? Cops don’t ask them if their front door was locked. They don’t ask them if they invited the thief into their house and maybe said the thief was free to take things before changing their mind the next day. And this is true even though sometimes people do get robbed by folks they invite in under false pretenses.
Cops and lawyers and judges don’t work together to make people who get robbed feel like shit for not installing extra security systems or putting bars on their windows. They don’t use people’s former history of inviting neighbors in and letting them borrow stuff to argue that they had no right to expect someone to respect their property. The media doesn’t talk about how the thief’s promising life was ruined by their victim’s decision to prosecute.
Your metaphor is bad and you should feel bad.
All this, but also:
What exactly is “locking your door?” When you’re locking the door to your house, that’s a single, quick, well-defined action that is definitely effective and has little impact on your overall lifestyle. If you know of anything that women can do to prevent rape that’s as low-impact and reliable as remembering to turn a key a couple times a day, please, tell me about it! Tell everyone! This could be some revolutionary shit!
But if what you really mean is something more like “don’t go into the cartoonishly obvious dark alleys that no doubt litter your city, and don’t dress in a way that suggests you have a corporeal body, and don’t associate with dangerous men (shouldn’t be hard to identify them, all dangerous men have prominent “DANGEROUS MAN” facial tattoos), and don’t go outdoors alone at night, and don’t go to parties or at least for God’s sake don’t ever drink at parties, and I saw this one email saying you shouldn’t wear ponytails and hey did you hear about this magical fingernail polish?”…
Well, there’s a lot I can say about all that, but all I’m going to say right now is that’s a bit more than turning a key.
Insurance companies don’t cover the loss if your doors were unlocked, it’s only break and enter if it’s locked, etc
Makes about three dozen bites
1 pound small or medium red potatoes
2 1/2 teaspoons salt, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh rosemary
1 tablespoon olive oil
Freshly ground pepper
12 ounces to 1 pound thick-cut bacon
1 cup (8 ounces) sour cream
1-3 teaspoons hot sauce
Salt and pepper
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
Wash and dry the potatoes. Chop them into 1-inch pieces, keeping the chunks roughly the same size even if they aren’t the exact same shape. Put the potatoes in a medium pot, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil. Season the water with 2 teaspoons of salt. Once the water begins to boil, cook the potatoes for 3 to 4 minutes, until you can stick a fork into them without too much resistance. You want the potatoes to be almost, but not fully, cooked through so they won’t fall apart during the next steps.
Drain the potatoes and put them in a large bowl. Add the rosemary, olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and a few grinds of pepper, and toss until the potatoes are evenly coated.
Cut the strips of bacon into thirds. Wrap each potato bite in a piece of bacon, securing it with a toothpick. Put the potatoes on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or aluminum foil spaced an inch or two apart. You may need to cook the potatoes in two batches.
Cook the potatoes for 15 minutes, then flip each piece. Cook for another 15 to 20 minutes, until the bacon is cooked through and as crisp as you like it. Mix the sour cream and hot sauce in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Pile the potato bites on a plate and serve alongside the dip.
i get really happy when it’s not me who starts the conversation because that removes so much anxiety about whether i’m bothering the person or if they secretly hate me even if i know that’s not true
"yeah, everything’s fine, i just tucked your kid into bed. but can i cover up the clown statue in the corner? it’s freaking me out"
"what? we dont have a kid. take our clown statue and get out of the house right now"