“Everyone knows the president is a rapist so why report on it?”

“The president has been accused of raping two women, one when she was as young as 13, and sexually assaulting three more. They are among 11 women who provided evidence or testimony that Trump “abused, assaulted, and even raped numerous women alongside, and in coordination with, the most infamous sex trafficker in history.” The NYT, however, is paying the charges less attention than Dem’s alleged hardball tactics in Alaska (which even if true, would be legal). From the first link (a piece at The Nation), a theory: “If asked, mainstream media types would no doubt argue that the lack of coverage of these latest rape allegations stems from the fact that previous rape allegations failed to “move the needle.” Trump’s sexual misconduct (both alleged and litigated) is “baked in” to people’s understanding of the man.”

As The Nation goes on to point out, so what? New accusations of rape are news. serious news. They should be reporting on them whether or not they “move the needle.” Plus, numbers matter. As Alec-Nevala Lee once put it, Isaac Asimov’s history of harassing and groping women stands out because he groped so many. Groping was common back then (which is not an excuse) but sheer numbers make Asimov a bigger deal. The more rapes the Toddler is accused of, the more serious the issue becomes.

And the idea that it won’t move the needle — which I suspect is the rationale — is bullshit because media coverage moves the needle. That’s why they wrote dozens of stories about Clinton’s email practices and Biden’s age. By contrast, the Times’ Patrick Healy says they ran a story on one of the allegations last year (it’s down in the comments here) so no point in running another. They can always put in diligent effort to shape perceptions of a candidate if they want to (consider a WaPO editorial shaping perceptions of the anticipated Democratic victory: a historic win would be bad news for Democrats).

And, of course, the DOJ covering up the Epstein case is an ongoing scandal and ongoing scandals remain news. Todd Blanche, a liar who claims you have to show ID to get into any restaurant (so why not for voting) appears to have steered Ghislaine Maxwell away from saying anything potentially awkward in interviewing her.

People Magazine has done much better than the NYT covering the new allegations. Hunter Lazzaro offers a depressing but plausible theory: “People’s journalists have long focused most of their coverage around young, attractive celebrities—people who are frequent targets of the entertainment industry’s grotesque and rampant rape culture. That is their wheelhouse.” It’s in their interests not to treat assault as a terrible problem. Maybe they don’t think it is. As Moira Donegan says, “Complicity, too, is typical, not uncommon, for responding institutions. Impunity for rapists is cast as good sense, or as responsibility; as fairness, or compassion.”

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Books that make me go “meh”

“Reunion rot” is still making me feel “meh” so why not some recent reading that did the same?

THE BULLET SWALLOWER by Elizabeth Gonzalez James is a magical realist Western jumping between a hardened Mexican outlaw in the 1800s (the title refers to a bullet that should have killed him ending up going down his throat with minimal damage) and his descendant, who plays cowboys in Mexican films and is slowly learning his family’s tangled, bloody history. The magical realist part is an angel of death watching over them to find out if his decision to spare a baby during an earlier tragedy will work out well for subsequent generations. This one’s not a bad book and well-written but very much not my kind of thing (literary and Western is the wrong mix for me).

(I fully realize Jack Kirby’s Omac isn’t swallowing bullets in the scene above, but work with me).

WHERE THE GRASS IS GREEN AND THE GIRLS ARE PRETTY by Lauren Weisberg (of Devil Wears Prada fame) has an anchorwoman mired in scandal when it appears her husband bribed Princeton to get their daughter into the Ivy League; in reality Mom did it herself, but grabbed his checkbook as the most convenient. Weisberg published this right after a similar real-life scandal but even if I’d read this when the topic was fresh, I can’t say I’d care for it. The arguments how this is totally different from the legal ways to bribe colleges (endow a chair say) are pretty flimsy and even though this proved a career-wrecking scandal in real life, it’s impossible to take seriously (a comedy about how shallow this is? That I might have accepted). I threw in the towel after 100 pages.

BATMAN ’66 MEETS THE LEGION OF SUPERHEROES by Lee and Mike Allred (cover by Laura Allred) has the Legion travel back in time in hopes of recruiting the greatest teenage superhero of all — Robin the Boy Wonder — into their team only to wind up with Egghead running lose in the future and Universo hypnotizing Gotham City (I suspect the scene where the two bald villains notice how similar they look is a riff on a Silver Age meeting between Rama-Tut and Doctor Doom). This had some fun moments but they didn’t mesh as well as the other off-the-wall Batman’ 66 crossovers did.

SAY NOTHING: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe is something of a bait-and-switch (like One Fine Day and The CIA Book Club). While the book’s hook is the IRA murdering informant Jean McConville in 1972 (Keefe concludes that while the IRA was riddled with informers, she was probably innocent), the bulk of the book is a history of the Troubles, the IRA and prominent figures such as activist/hit-woman Dolours Price, occasionally and randomly jumping back to the McConville family. While the IRA history is certainly interesting, the book still feels off, like why is Keefe paying attention to this murder out of so many?

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Obligatory Halloween photos

The con crud I got from my reunion trip left me too wiped to get any movie reviews written, but bey, it’s October 31st …

First, from our local Walgreens.

From a store we sometimes stop at when we’re taking the dogs to PT.

A house in our neighborhood.

And a little black cat Trixie and I spotted just off the local walking paths a few weeks baack.

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“Hi, I’m Plague of the Four Horsemen, can we hang out?”

As y’all already know, last Thursday I flew into Fort Walton Beach for Choctawhatchee High School’s Class of ’76 reunion. As I often do I dithered about when to fly and was I picking the best flight and so I wound up paying more and traveling at less convenient times. I left from Raleigh-Durham Airport at 6:30, got there well ahead of time (as the airlines always recommended) and it was indeed surprisingly busy.

One of my must-have requirements is a big enough time when I change flights (I always have to) that I can make it. I had an hour in Nashville and fortunately the flight was on time as the arrival and departure were gates were literally at the very end of two different terminals. Made it, then to Fort Walton Beach.

As usual I stayed with my best friend Cindy, her sister Debbie and my sister Tracy (they’re housemates). And Cindy’s dog Raven, a very friendly, licky black lab. Here Raven checks me out on the airbed.

My brother Craig showed up too, as it was his 45th reunion. No photos of him though.

The events included a school tour, a round of Goofy Golf, dinner at the Yacht Club, an afternoon on the Okaloosa Island Boardwalk and Sunday brunch at a local restaurant. In between I hung out with Cindy and my siblings and occasionally stared out at the back yard.

It’s even better seen with the naked eye.

Sunday, after all was wrapped up, I got the bad news that my flight out had been delayed … and eventually delayed so much it would land in Charlotte after my flight to Raleigh left. Siiiigh. Tracy and Craig went with me to the airport. The American Airlines desk booked me into a hotel for the night with a $12 food credit. It turned out to be a “minitel” as you can see from this shot of the room.

It was a good enough room under the circumstances, even if the desk clerk’s reference to a “bug problem” elsewhere had me expecting the worst (apparently no bedbugs in my room at least). Unfortunately by the time I got in I had very little time to sleep before I had to get up and get back to the Charlotte Airport (CLT — some people read a lot into that particular airport code). And the timing of the minitel’s shuttle meant I had to spend money on a Lyft.

Once I got to the airport everything was smooth and I finally got home. Unfortunately I had the reunion equivalent of “con crud” — reunion rot, I’m calling it. Much like past viral incidents, it starts in my throat which is vulnerable because of asthma, and because my breath control when I speak is terrible and puts a strain on my voice. And I spoke a lot last weekend. It’s been so long since I had an incident, I’ve gotten slack about improving that; that’s going to have to change. Fortunately as it’s not my first rodeo I drove to the Urgent Care (a five minute walk, not that I wanted to walk) and got meds. I’m on the mend but still keeping largely silent; talking because I’m all better is how I undercut being all better. Oh, and the hacking has largely robbed me of sleep.

So my plans to bounce back with four days of work became a cropper. I did somehow get two stories in for The Local Reporter (not up online yet) and two Atomic Junk Shop posts: a look at the advertising for Jonah Hex’s debut and Gary Friedrich’s gratuitously sexist run writing Captain America.

His black power scenes aren’t too hot either (art by John Romita).

But now all that’s done, I can focus almost entirely on proofing and indexing Watching Jekyll and Hyde! At last!

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Three views of me from the reunion

As I mentioned earlier, I spent last Thursday — Sunday at my 50th high school reunion. Details to come in this afternoon’s week in review post, photos to come in several posts. But for today, here are three photos of me. First the Early Years, captured in this ID badge —

The photographers provided the bowtie and jacket. Next, me playing Goofy Golf, a Ft. Walton Beach institution.

Makes me look a little too hobbit-esque, I think. Now finally, a more flattering photo from Saturday night’s dinner.

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Laura Loomer, Vivek Ramaswamy, the Cornell 7 and Nancy Mace

Amy Acton is running against Vivek Ramaswamy for governor of Ohio. Years ago her stepfather was indicted for sexually abusing her, but fled the state first. In an ad for Ramaswamy, Acton’s mother says she’s lying. Even the right-wing National Review, however, says Acton’s telling the truth. Which makes Ramaswamy’s ad singularly contemptible.

That, however, didn’t stop right-wing propagandist Laura Loomer from declaring Acton’s the liar, don’t vote for her! Which would be horrifying if Loomer hadn’t shown repeatedly she has no more interest in the truth than Axis Sally or Tokyo Rose. And as a devoted, fawning Trumper, I can understand her lying to (she hopes) land the governorship for a Toddler ally. Ditto shitbag Dan Bongino who fantasizes Ramaswamy’s ad deals Acton’s campaign a death blow. Or Ramaswamy himself, who stands by his ad. And sneers Acton “is”has no vision other than to complain about what someone else did to her“”

Politics is no excuse for accusing Acton of lying (as you probably know, “all rape victims lie” is a classic Undead Sexist Cliche). In any area, if you’re only principle is winning, you’re a shitty person. Of course, ad-endorsing J.D. Vance has never had any principles to compromise. No More Mr. Nice Blog argues that attacking Acton is a logical extension of Republican smear tactics going back to the last century.

It’s a little more surprising and annoying when people lie about the Cornell 7 case. Politics does not hinge on the outcome of this case. Unlike Brett Kavanaugh or Jeffrey Epstein we have no Republican candidates who could be dragged down by this. There’s no risk to conservatives in keeping their mouth shut or saying the minimum — don’t want to comment before a court verdict, looks pretty horrible, if it’s true the rapists need to pay. Yet I keep seeing people who can’t resist weighing in on the rapists’ side.

Earlier this month, right-wing slime Megyn Kelly recycled a classic Undead Sexist Cliche by claiming Cornell rape victim Jane Doe was so ugly she was glad for the attention. Also this month, Rep. Nancy Mace (a rape survivors herself) dismissed Jane Doe’s claims and said it was a consensual gangbang. Kelly at least has the excuse of having an online “news” show and needing stuff to talk about. Mace just went on X and offered her deep thoughts. She’s an SC legislator, she has no authority or tie to the investigation so why open her mouth?

Partly, I suppose, because right-wing women are committed to aligning with patriarchy. And it’s a staple belief in the patriarchy that opposing rape means hating men. If “they” can accuse people as prominent and respectable as the Toddler and Kavanaugh, rape accusations can strike any man, any time! Which is actually unlikely unless the men are, you know, rapists. The issue isn’t false accusations, it’s a fear of true accusations. And so Kelly and Mace speak up on the wrong side. And hopefully draw more attention from patriarchy supporters.

In related links:

“Hazing rituals weed out those with enough self-esteem and independence to stand up to the hierarchy. They ensure conformity and obedience. It is a filter. Fraternity “brothers” are self-selected. Those who have the strength to oppose public humiliation and that perpetuated on each new cycle of recruits, leave.” — Chris Hedges on fraternities and sexual violence.

Robert Reich: “The man now occupying the White House has contributed to a lower and more dangerous standard for what men can do to women with impunity.” As witness yet more allegations he raped Jeffrey Epstein’s victims.

“If consent as a talking point feels like grim deja vu, that’s because it returns with each cycle of outrage over alleged campus sexual assault.” —Inae Oh on consent education

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Horror covers for Halloween week

An uncredited cover for a mashup of horror and detective story. Could a man’s wife really be a reincarnation of a malevolent witch? Is it all just coincidence?

This Don Maitz cover isn’t for a horror book but it does look damn eerie, so I’m posting it.

A typically offbeat Richard Powers cover

And a Powers mystery cover — not horror but it’s ominous enough I’ll put it here.

An uncredited but creepy cover.

Here’s a movie tie-in for Bell, Book and Candle, a stage play-based film comedy that helped inspire Bewitched on TV. I don’t know if this is Van Druten’s script for the play or if he novelized the film.

Last but not least, Victor Valla’s cover for this HP Lovecraft collection. I had this one back in the day, before complete collections were easy to find.

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What if Leonard Cohen were mentor to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?

Just back from travel to Fort Walton Beach for my 50th high school reunion (details and photos to follow eventually ) so only a quick post today. I saw this meme and I love it (though I don’t know who to credit as the source).

Happy Tuesday.

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My first undead sexist cliche

Back in 2011 I wrote the following at the top of a post: “This will be the first of three posts tackling sexist cliches that have been around for years.”

15 years later I’m still blogging about the cliches because they’re still around. Even writing a book pointing out that they’re all bullshit somehow didn’t cause patriarchy to collapse. Given I was right about everything (and obviously so were countless feminists who came before me) I can’t figure out why.

Sarcasm aside, I’m really rushed for time. I figured reposting the original wouldn’t hurt as most of y’all haven’t been reading this blog 15 years. And of course, it’s still relevant, so—

One cliche that’s been around at least since the early seventies is the idea that men’s success depends on women’s submission. The first version I read was that men attempt to build/create/make money to compensate for their lack of the ability to bear children. If women do all those things, plus bearing children, men will feel so emasculated they’ll just curl up and die.
Then there was George Gilder, in the 1980s, with his view that men can’t amount to anything unless they’re married. Women therefore have a moral duty to put their personal goals on hold, marry men and shape them up—preferably marry the meek loser-types who need inspiration rather than going for good-looking, successful men (as other writers have observed, it’s hard not to see a degree of self interest in this).
And now we have Mark Regnerus, who asserts that since men are driven to achieve by the drive for sex, if women don’t hold out sex until marriage, men will no longer achieve anything (“their sexual success may, ironically, be hindering their drive to achieve in life”). There’s more premarital sex available than there used to be; men are financially less well off than they used to be; therefore, male failure is women’s fault for giving it away!
As Echidne points out at the link, there’s little evidence of cause and effect in this. And I can think of plenty of counter-examples. Did John Adams, who was already happily married and a successful Massachusetts lawyer, feel the need to risk his future challenging the British Empire because he wanted to get laid? What about Cecil Rhodes, the 19th century multimillionaire, who built his empire while showing very little interest in women (I don’t mean he was gay—going off and doing Manly Stuff without women wasn’t terribly remarkable back then)?
And more to the point, why is this women’s problem, even if it were true? If men decide they’d rather party and sleep around than do anything with their life (and Regnerus doens’t make that point), shouldn’t he be yelling at them to get their act in gear?
Regnerus’ argument is that he’s really, really concerned for women: They’re giving the cow away and not getting the True Love they really want in return. Which is nominally the point of his article, with the Terrible, Terrible Consequences for society thrown in.
So I’m sure he’s recycling old sexist cliches with only the best of intentions.

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Pulp and paperback covers for Sunday

Too rushed for regular reviews, so …

One by Bob Larkin. Very 1970s “sexy girl with a sword.”

Next, one by Gray Morrow. I saw this series on the paperback racks but never read it.

Art on this one is uncredited.

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