I think she wants more soccer talk

Kim is curious… as the Mondiale approaches:

I asked this question awhile back and am still curious. The fascination with rape. Similar to the subject of this post in her strange, whatever feminist strident take on rape. I don’t dwell on rape. I don’t think most women do, unless, of course, they’ve been raped, which would make sense. However, why do you dwell on it?
You discuss it a lot. Why?

Well, I find it relaxing. You know, some men like to kick back in front of the television and crack open a cold beer, others prefer to hit the local gentleman’s club and survey the unclad talent. I myself enjoy slipping on a comfortable black mask, breaking out the old Bowie knife and surprising the heck out of an attractive and unsuspecting young woman.

Anyhow, as Spacebunny and others have pointed out, I’m not the one obsessed with rape. Feminists are obsessed with rape, so as an outspoken critic of feminism in all its myriad forms, yes, even the forms that are socially acceptable to the mainstream, I find myself discussing it a lot. The subject is all but unavoidable; it is crammed down every young man’s throat from his first mandatory consciousness-raising lecture in college to the most recent mandatory diversity seminar at his workplace.

I would call the rape-and-harassment reeducation business a cottage industry, except that it would be a misnomer given how it probably employs more women than the American textiles industry these days.

The reason that the cry-rape crowd cries rape so often and so loudly is the same reason that some Jews cry Nazi, some blacks cry KKK and some faux conservatives cry terrorist. It is the way in which the intellectually overmatched call for help while simultaneously attempting to stifle otherwise damaging criticism without having to make a coherent case. The way to defang this tactic is not to retreat and awkwardly attempt to defend yourself because that’s exactly what the cry-whatever wants you to do, the correct thing is to continue to make your case while ignoring the static.

Or, if you’re like me and you genuinely don’t give a damn what people with half your IQ say about you, you continue to make your case while using the static to create beautiful, beautiful music that only you can hear.

The alternative explanation is that this rock thing is true, Jerry Lee Lewis is the devil and my mind was warped by listening to too much of the wrong sort of music. For you see, I also like honey.