April 04, 2013
Jodi Arias
These past months have been awash in the most crass sex crimes of recent memory. In each instance, debauched personalities have either been convicted or are currently facing trial, with good reason. Yet the incidents viewed in totality give rise to a sense that each of the victims shares some responsibility in their fate. Perhaps we all do.
Most sensational is the trial of femme fatale Jodi Arias, who admits killing Travis Alexander but denies murdering him. Arias was Alexander’s short-term girlfriend and longtime sex toy. He even converted her to his religion. They eventually parted ways but not erogenous zones. He continually had intercourse with her after their breakup. She moved several states to be near him.
In their final encounter Arias says she learned during the post-coital glow that Alexander would take another member of his harem to Cancun. She had previously been suspected of slashing his tires, yet this time she opted for slashing his throat. She also stabbed him 29 times and followed it up with a gunshot to the head. Being a cad shouldn”t get you murdered, but sexually baiting an obviously disturbed woman has foreseeable results.
In Steubenville, OH, boys from the local high-school football team were accused of digitally penetrating a teen they met one evening at a party. At first it seemed the culprits would escape trial, as Steubenville is a “football town” with prosecutors eager to preserve the cash cow.
The hacker group Anonymous made it a cause célèbre. They didn”t need to do much, since the idiot athletes had already posted photos of the incident online. Even those who weren”t present thought it would be a bright idea to record comedy routines about what occurred.
Two players were rightly condemned to a juvenile facility with possible registration as sex offenders for life. The girl’s mother harangued them during her impact statement, claiming they “lacked a moral code.” She neglected to explain why her own moral code allowed her to set her 16-year-old daughter loose to get stumblebum-drunk with strangers.
From the impoverished cesspool known as India comes the horrific tale of a gang rape. A Swiss couple had embarked on a bicycle tour of the hinterlands. While off alone far from the civilized world, the female was attacked and defiled.
Hadn”t these Europeans heard numerous tales of Indian gang rapes? I suggest we alter Bombay’s name again. Any Westerner with the slightest notion of visiting should be asked, “And are you certain you want to take your wife to Rapetown?”
A case developing in Moscow involves an attack on the director of the Bolshoi Ballet. At first, the crime seemed despicable and worthy less of Russia than some Middle Eastern hellhole. However, now come allegations that corrupt Bolshoi officials were forcing ballerinas to be wealthy businessmen’s escorts. The company denies these accusations.
If you are going to pressure very young girls from impoverished homes to become whores it is only a matter of time before some boyfriend or brother throws acid in your face, and I”m not the least bit sorry to see it happen. If more pimps got bleach baths, the world would be a better place.
A lifetime ago in Paris I was appalled at the grotesqueries of “Pig Alley.” Every kind of sex was available to all manner of deviants. But looking back, at least it was confined. You could be secure knowing that sort of thing was in a single neighborhood and if you stayed well away it would not follow you. These days the slop has oozed out of the pigpen until it befouls everywhere.
