Author: Kim du Toit

Old Times There Am Not Forgotten

Legal Stuff, Lies and Untruths

Here’s a little bit of rank injustice:

Harrods could be forced to pay out tens of millions of pounds to female employees sexually abused by Mohamed Al-Fayed because of ‘systemic wrongdoing’ at store, lawyers say.

The Egypytian businessman has been accused of raping five women during his 25-year tenure at the luxury retail outlet, with at least 15 other women saying they were sexually assaulted by him.

Lawyers have warned that Al-Fayed’s offences could range beyond the allegations made in a BBC documentary, with his other former business interests, including Fulham Football Club, now under scrutiny.

Okay, you may be asking about this “systemic wrongdoing” — i.e. that Harrods had a system in place which either encouraged or else allowed the old goat to molest his female emplyees.

Of course, Harrods doesn’t or didn’t have any such system.  But the lawyers have to argue that they did, because:

Al Fayed, who died last year aged 94…

They can’t very well go after him now, you see, so they have to go after the company because, well, because that’s where the bucks are.  And it’s really conveeeeenient that the old fart isn’t around to refute the claims now crawling, like their claimants, from the woodwork.

In the reign of Emperor Kim, of course, bullshit like this would be stopped in its tracks because, duh, it’s bullshit.  And of course some feeeemales stand to get a lot of money out of these unsubstantiated accusations, as do their lawyers, which is how this creative nonsense ever came to see the light of day.

‘It seems from the information received from those who have contacted us, and the information brought to light in the BBC documentary, that the abuse of young women at Harrods should properly be described as human sex trafficking,’ said Richard Meeran, a partner at the London law firm Leigh Day.

Ah yes, the old bogeyman “sex trafficking” — where would we be without this handy little catch-all expression?  And the BBC… hardly an unimpeachable source.

‘This is because the recruitment of young women for the alleged purpose of sexual exploitation entailed and depended on systemic wrongdoing by the company, its senior managers and security personnel, as well as the ultimate perpetrator.’

So these women were hired for the express purpose of being the Harrods owner’s sex toys?  And all the senior management of Harrods were aware of this and did nothing to stop it? 

And it’s not just one woman, but a hundred and fifty (always be suspicious of nice round numbers).  And all of them have kept their mouths shut for all this time, because…?

I report you decide;  but I’ve decided that this — all of it — is arrant bullshit and an attempt to wring money from a wealthy company, just because its erstwhile owner and the “alleged’ perpetrator is dead and can’t defend himself.

Just to be clear on this:  Al Fayed probably was a loathsome old bastard who deserved a good hard flogging / ball-kicking for oh-so many reasons.  But even given that, it doesn’t mean that this pussymail can be justified.

News Roundup

Bad News

…which is probably the best word to describe this first news item:


...”how am I going to replace half my staffers now?”


...I would have thought the CIA would be too busy planning to do that back here after November.


...keyword:  Irish.

From the Hearts Of Stone Department:


...okay, quit that unseemly giggling.


...”that’s a strange noise.”

In news from The Great Cultural Assimilation Project©:


...like everywhere else.


...”wait, you mean we can no longer just get rid of our problem by shipping them over to you?”


From the Department of Education:


...but but but that’s just Show & Tell in Sex Ed.  Also, keyword:  Florida.

And in Medical News:


...principal among them:  pics of Lizzo, Hillary Clinton or Gemma Collins.


...you mean that salad tongs aren’t approved?


...when demand exceeds supply.


...all of which can be summed up with:

From the trenches of the Sex Wars:


...repeat after me:  “Sex, sandwiches and silence.”  And if we can have only one, then:  silence.

Now for unbridled but unlinked 

…hate to say it, Tarty, but yer just not that important, compared to Hillary Clinton.


...well, we haven’t seen Phil’s little girl for a while, so why not?

And that’s all the news fit to (un-)cover.

Differences

Men & Women

I found this old thing while rummaging around in my archives.  It was behind the nude pics of Dita Von Teese.

Men Are Just Happier People!

What do you expect from such simple creatures?
Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Wedding plans take care of themselves. Chocolate is just another snack. You can never be pregnant. You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park.
Car mechanics tell you the truth. The world is your urinal. You never have to drive to another gas station rest room because this one is just too icky. You don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt. Wrinkles add character. Wedding dress purchase: $5,000. Tux rental: $100.
People never stare at your chest when you’re talking to them.
One mood all the time. Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about tanks. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase. You can open all your own jars.
You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.
You can sleep with 50 women a year and not be called a slut.
Everything on your face stays its original color. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades, and when you get much older, your hair ceases to be a problem altogether. You only have to shave your face and neck, and even that’s optional. You likewise have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.
You can play with toys all your life.
Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look.
Two pairs of shoes are more than enough. New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle your feet.
One wallet – one color for all seasons.
You can ‘do’ your nails with a pocket knife.  You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes. At Walgreens.

NICKNAMES. If Laura, Kate, and Sarah go out for lunch, they will call each other Laura, Kate and Sarah. If Mike, Dave and John go out, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fuckhead, Shitbrain, and Knobhead.

EATING OUT. When the bill arrives, Mike, Dave and John will each throw in $20, even though it’s only for $31.50. None of them will have anything smaller and none will actually admit they want change back. When the girls get their bill, out come the phone calculators.

MONEY. A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs. A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn’t need, but “it’s on sale”.

BATHROOMS. The average man has 6 items in his bathroom: toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, a bar of soap, and a towel. The average number of items in the typical woman’s bathroom is 337. A man would not be able to identify more than 20 of these items.

ARGUMENTS. A woman has the last word in any argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.

FUTURE. A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband. A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.

MARRIAGE. A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn’t. A man marries a woman expecting that she won’t change, but she does.

DRESSING UP. A woman will dress up to go shopping, water the plants, empty the trash, answer the phone, read a book, and get the mail. A man will dress up for weddings and funerals.

NATURAL. Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed. Women somehow deteriorate during the night.

OFFSPRING. Ah, children. A woman knows all about her children. She knows about dentist appointments and romances, best friends, favorite foods, secret fears, and hopes and dreams. A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY. A married man should forget his mistakes. There’s no use in two people remembering the same thing, forever.

SECOND THOUGHT FOR THE DAY.  No man can ever be a perfect husband. The best we can ever be is “adequate”.

Feel free to add to the list in Comments.

 

Connectivity Anxiety

Communication

Once more via Insty, I see this little exposition:

Confession: I’m really bad at replying to messages. Sometimes it takes me days, even weeks, to get back to people. I constantly find myself typing out some variation of the words sorry for not getting back to you sooner, oops sorry I completely missed this, hey sorry I thought I replied! It’s an endless cycle: feel pressured to reply, feel guilty for not doing it, procrastinate, feel worse the longer I wait, finally apologise, they respond—and then I do it all over again. 

I’ve tried to be better. I’ve made countless New Year’s Resolutions to respond quicker, set myself strict rules to always reply the same day, even added texting people back to my to-do list. Nothing works. But lately I’ve been wondering if that’s because there’s a problem with me, or if it’s this expectation to always be available, to be instantly accessible, that’s the problem. 

Because it turns out I’m not alone in this.

You bet you aren’t.  I’m in the same camp, albeit for slightly different reasons.  I get a ton of email messages each day, mostly junk / spam / phishing but also a lot from Readers.  The latter are all welcome, always;  but as for the former, may they and their entire families suffer the fate of Julius Caesar and be killed by their associates.

I’m worse on the phone — unless it’s from immediate family, either actual calls, or else text / WhatsApp.  Here again, I love this Caller ID thing, because if it’s not a number I recognize, or doesn’t appear on my phone book,  it’s utterly ignored.  (Some people miss the old days when the phone — landline, Princess — rang and you answered it.  I don’t.  Even back then, if I didn’t feel like answering the call, I wouldn’t.  I figured that if the news was that urgent, they’d call me again immediately;  and if not, well, c’est la vie.)

I think I’ve mentioned before that back when I was flying out of Chicago at least once a week, I loved that “alone” time, whether at the airport or on the plane itself.  It gave me a chance to think, to plan, to dream… you know, what men did before some fucking intrusive electronic thing screamed in your ear 24/7, demanding IMMEDIATE ATTENTION!

Somehow, businesses survived without being in constant contact with bosses and subordinates.  When I was a manager with staff, I would tell them that if I was unreachable but a decision had to be made, to make the best decision they could, and I’d back them.  Or they could talk to my boss and ask him, if the decision was that important.  (90% of the time, it wasn’t, as I would discover later that day when I’d call in from my hotel room or from the client’s office.)  Not only did I tell them to make a decision, I’d encourage it, to help with their personal growth in the company.  I think that in over 20 years, they made maybe one questionable decision, and the fact that I cannot remember any details now just goes to show that it wasn’t that important.  No matter how much companies think that such things are life-and-death matters, they pretty much aren’t;  and as one of my bosses once remarked, “There’s no business decision that can’t be made tomorrow,” and in fact most times it’s even better to sleep on it before deciding.

So I often disconnect from the world.  Unless I’m expecting a critical call from New Wife or my kids, I don’t freak out if I’m at the grocery store and discover I’ve forgotten my phone at home (which I often do).  If I’m in bed and the phone rings, I won’t get up to answer it — once again, if it’s that important, my family knows to call again immediately to get a response from me.  (Corollary:  I never take the phone to bed with me;  it stays in the living room next to my laptop.  The only time I fetch it is on Saturday mornings — when I spend most of the day in bed with New Wife — just in case one of the kids or my sister wants to chat.  And that’s after I wake up and made the morning coffee.)

Yeah, I’m mostly disconnected from the world when I don’t feel like “interacting”.  When I’m at my desk and on the laptop, however, an email message from an acquaintance will often be answered immediately, unless I’m working through the backlog from the night before.

I value my privacy, and I’m at the stage of my life when I’m at the beck and call of nobody except of those I choose to be:  a number that is frighteningly small.

I have learned that the world, such as it is, is best kept at arm’s length.

Lookalike Names

Marketing / Advertising

This one made me chuckle:

Snickers launched in the UK in 1967, but before consumers could get their hands on it, it went through a change of name — because Snickers was deemed too close to another, saucier, word.

“Knickers”, I assume.  Not that I think that that name is “saucy”, or anything like it.  “Knockers”, maybe?

On the bright side, imagine the fuss today if someone tried to launch a snack bar called “Sniggers”… and it was made of dark chocolate.  I imagine that Sniggers  having been rejected, one could try “Darkies”, then?

From the archives:

I should probably stop now;  but that doesn’t mean that you should.  Carry on, in Comments, by all means.