It’s a dog’s world in Alabama

Senate candidate Roy Moore and wife Kayla tussle over her pistol at a recent ceremony. Kayla has asked her Facebook friends to report any contact  by the news media. (Photo by Roll Call)

The burgeoning #MeToo Movement sweeping Hollywood, New York, Washington and obscure places south has really taken hold. My little Frenchy, Millie, turned a cold shoulder to Elmer the Beagle this morning. Elmer is a leg hound from the country with no couth.

Until now Millie never seemed bothered by his boorish, oft’ disgusting behavior. When he annoyed her, she bit him. When a more aggressive little pampered pooh-pooh annoyed her, Mildred — that’s her given name — dragged him around the back yard by his face until he was rescued. That rash little fellow never bothered her again. There is a lesson there.

Millie’s agitation had been building since she began watching hours and hours of CNN and MSNBC competing on television with the broadcast networks airing testimony from victims cruelly maligned by famous men in the last half-century. Behind them, the real newshounds with pencils and wet, greasy notebooks covered with sweat and fast food are sniffing out Judge Moore’s victims faster than Elmer can find Millie on a sunny day., a very good news service in Alabama, is running the New York Times and Washington Post on a snipe hunt through the Alabama foothills while their colleagues line up Judge Moore’s alleged victims for new exploitation. As of this writing, the alleged paramour of perversion is down eight points in an Alabama-only poll behind Democrat Doug Jones.

So far, alleged child and adult sexual abuser and man-child Donald Trump is refusing to comment either on Moore’s candidacy, or his alleged perverted behavior. The half-baked sweet potato’s surrogate liar, Sarah Sanders Huckabee, says he wants to spare Moore the cruel pain of accusations without proof. Unlike the proof of a prescient Monica Lewinski, a former White House intern under Bill Clinton, there is no fluid-stained dress to support the victim’s claims. Trump says 16 women, including his former wife and a former child victim, are all liars. The infamous grope tape in which he trumpets his own assumed sexual prowess is just locker room talk, he says. His little hands suggest otherwise.

“No proof,” the Mango Martinet thundered last year in a tweet. In Trumplandia that makes perfect sense.

Regardless, the sexual assaults, groping, unwanted kissing, touching of buttocks, crotches and women’s necks stories are a tough proposition for men to report. A man’s perspective, no matter how sincerely offered, has so far failed to close in on the #MeToo phenomena without appearing either patronizing or pandering. There is very little to work with because most of the men doing it know they are forever stained with the knowledge that they too are guilty of rude, disgusting behavior with ladies of solid virtue. That puts them squarely in the ambiguous #MeToo Movement, theirs a lesser voice that is rarely offered or heard. Without room for maturation, heartfelt apology, and long-lived remorse, they will never have room to talk.

It is simply a fact that most men, perhaps all men, act like pigs in their youth. Most probably do it in their lustful, early adult years. The vast majority get slapped down enough times to get it in their heads that women will let them know when they don’t want something. It used to be called growing up. Unfortunately, some guys just never grow up. That used to be explained as a mental health problem. But Judge Moore was still chasing teenagers through malls in his 30s. His supporters claim it is part of being a Christian gentleman in the caste system of the South. In Texas, real men call that horse shit.

Mr. Trump and Judge Moore suffer from a vile sickness, an inescapable compulsion that sex crimes detectives, psychologists and mental health experts have encountered since the existence of sex crimes. That they managed to escape detection is the entire country’s tragedy. Nobody used to talk about that kind of debilitating condition except in courtrooms emptied of  loungers for the mental health evaluations of total nut bags. Moore and Trump would find kindred spirits there.

Already their unsavory assaults are being used by the well-intentioned as cudgels to hammer home why women should never trust the motives of men. With so much polarization in American society already, do we really need to build another wall between men and women over the machination of a handful of well-heeled, really sick dirt bags? Already the national dialogue has moved from reprehensible tax reform, denied health care, nuclear war, social injustice and bigotry to the reprehensible sexual behavior of a handful of powerful men who preyed on women because they could.

Their kind of conduct is a far cry from the claims of those painting the occasional indiscretions of all men with a broad brush that leaves behind a diluted, knee jerk response shadowing the difference between psychosis and momentary bad behavior by normally decent men.

Is the current knee-jerk, hand-wringing response to every victim’s cruel encounter by circumstance or design? Is there already a play on to cloud the issues? The real issue is sexual predation, not sexual indiscretion. Perhaps America is entering a new Calvinist period of rigid social and religious compliance that denies song, dance, dialogue and sex. Oh boy! During the Middle Ages men and women joined convents by the thousands to avoid syphilis and each other. It didn’t prevent anything but normal social discourse.

Now the Democrats, including disgraced jokester Sen. Al Franken of Minnesota, are demanding an ethics investigation to determine if Franken is the same kind of predatory monster as Moore and Mr. Trump are alleged to be. Despite Franken’s unsavory behavior, his offensive grope and moist, tongue-laden kisses and being memorialized in a snarky photograph, doesn’t rise to the level of predatory conduct. While Congress struggles to find out for sure, the country will continue spinning out of control, lost in the miasma of muddled thought, diversion and incompetence by those determined to save our nation from itself. Mr. Trump couldn’t be happier.

It is time to quit grabbing onto every report of sexual abuse like it was a pearl of wisdom that needs to be loudly examined for every lesson it might contain. Let Alabamians decide whether they will tolerate a sexual predator to guide their state in Washington, D.C. without creating a firestorm that consumes reason along with inequity. And let Mr. Moore and his Bible-thumping ilk be damned.


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