Sinister!

There's a report in the news from one of the lawyers who handled victims vs Catholic church previously .... he comments on the legal obstacles to effective prosecution of offenders .... and the active processes used by the church to prevent prosecution!
 There has rarely existed an opportunity for victims to seek redress against the Catholic Church because of statute of limitation laws, which apply strict timelines for civil legal recourse. Even where provision exists for an extension of time, church authorities in the past have taken steps to transfer claims to states where no such legislative ''chance to be heard'' applies.
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He commented on some interesting legal protections that are peculiar to the Catholic church ...
They enjoy the benefits of corporate status - for tax land purposes and perpetual succession of property - but avoid corporate tort liability for the very atrocities committed under their roof. A Catholic archbishop, unlike the heads of other organisations, cannot be held accountable for the negligent and reckless acts or omissions of their predecessor.
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.... and I pondered how such evil  can have become entrenched in our society.
I think the origins can be traced to medieval times when the church (note ... at that time there was nothing other than what later became the catholic church) was probably the only real remaining pillar of society ..... the society that later became 'western society'.  The 'dark ages' didn't really affect the other older societies.

Because the church was so important, it assumed a role of limitless power.  The members of the church hierarchy fought to maintain the position of the church in society from that time on.  Sometimes the intent would have been honourable but all too often, the intent was to maintain the powerbase of the church organisation.  Clearly many of the law-makers of western society either came from a church background or were fully approving of the role that the church played.

Consequently subtle 'leanings' have been included in the laws enacted over time.  These have brought us to the point where today the practitioners of evil can hide within the walls of the church  .... and where the church sees its role as being to protect these evil people rather than to protect the innocent. 
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14/11/12
People who were sexually abused as children have waited a long time for a royal commission.
They have been waiting a long time to break down the walls of legal protection their abusers have hidden behind so successfully.
In the mid-1990s, I represented more than 250 men who, as children, were victims of sexual assault and abuse while in the care of the Catholic Church and the Christian Brothers order.
We know the predators within the order colluded with each other to create a systemic network of abuse. They shared information about vulnerable children and worked together to suppress complaints.
When their activities became too overt, church superiors stepped in, and moved them elsewhere within the order. In doing so, authorities reduced the possibility a paedophile might have been exposed, and they did nothing to prevent the continuing abuse.
I travelled to Western Australia to interview men who were residents of four Christian Brothers' institutions in that state. These men, many of whom were orphans and child migrants, told stories of horrific physical and sexual abuse. They told stories of brothers, who were meant to be caring for them, coming to their beds at night and performing the most obscene acts of abuse.
It didn't take long to realise a pattern was emerging. Particular children were targeted because of their vulnerability - the quiet ones, the shy ones. These victims also reported the special privileges bestowed on them by the brothers post-abuse - a bemusing thank you for the unwitting loan of their bodies.
I remember at the end of a week of taking testimonies, my colleague Peter Gordon, eminent silk Jack Rush and I were speechless. We could not comprehend what we had heard. Abuse so horrific, with victims so completely helpless and, despite their number, so completely alone.
In those interviews, we also heard how children attempted to escape and how clean clothes were given out when state authorities came to visit and were then taken away as soon as they left.
We heard of vicious beatings for those with the courage to complain.
The Catholic Church and other church denominations occupy a unique position under Australian law. They enjoy the benefits of corporate status - for tax land purposes and perpetual succession of property - but avoid corporate tort liability for the very atrocities committed under their roof. A Catholic archbishop, unlike the heads of other organisations, cannot be held accountable for the negligent and reckless acts or omissions of their predecessor. How can this continue in modern Australia?
And it gets worse. There has rarely existed an opportunity for victims to seek redress against the Catholic Church because of statute of limitation laws, which apply strict timelines for civil legal recourse. Even where provision exists for an extension of time, church authorities in the past have taken steps to transfer claims to states where no such legislative ''chance to be heard'' applies.
For this royal commission to make a difference, it must consider these special protections. And, above all, it must recognise that abuse is not just the act of predators lurking in dormitories at night but also of those in some of the highest echelons of the church who have allowed such betrayal to happen.
The men I interviewed in the 1990s suffer a range of psychiatric and physiological disorders. Many of them can not engage in any form of intimacy with their family members. Alcoholism, sexual dysfunction, self-harm and violence were common responses to what happened. For the few who were able to face up to their pasts, weekly counselling sessions were needed to try to overcome it.
In every case, legal action was not just about money. There is no adequate compensation for a lost childhood.
These men were seeking simple recognition by someone, some court or authority that these events actually occurred and that they were deeply wrong. Apologies from the perpetrators, or their superiors, play a critical role at these times.
Financial redress is important in the rebuilding process, not least when it comes to affording specialised medical help.
But, more than anything, what I heard from these men was that they wanted the truth to be acknowledged and they wanted this to never happen again. A royal commission can help with this.
Hayden Stephens is a lawyer with Slater & Gordon.

Another one

Another night of nightmares and being awake all night ... unable to sleep because of the sadness.

I'm so tired of this endless treadmill of sadness, bad dreams, .... on and on ....

Privacy

In a way, writing the 'public consumption' blog is a form of escapism ..... I fool myself that I'm being 'open'  ... where in reality, it's a carefully screened and sanitised version of our life and my thoughts. 
Everything is weighed for acceptability and safety before it is published.
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One of my problems is that I hide myself away .... to protect myself.  Ever since those bad times at age 10 to 15 I have built a wall round my thoughts and personality .... now

Disabilities

Save me from people who have a disability and refuse to accept that they do!
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To me, the ability to read a map is a pretty basic ability.  To not be able to read a map and not have the ability to find your way from A to B .... that's a major problem in life!  Yet people refuse to accept that this problem is a disability ..... I can't see the logic.
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If you have a disability or a problem ..... and that problem causes inconvenience in your day to day life ..... surely it is worth doing whatever is possible to improve your ability in that area.

Veet

This is an actual review on amazon.co.UKfor Veet Hair Removal for Men...

A. Chappell

This review is from: Veet for Men Hair Removal Gel Creme 200 ml (Personal Care)

After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly succesful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit of a treat.

I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn't have long to wait.

At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head. Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg. Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen.. by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid off and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon returned .

Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn't managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the drawer for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it's way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it's engines behind me.

This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.

Unfortunately, alerted by the strange moans and grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering..." Ooooh that feels good ". Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involutary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn't improve my status...so to sum it up Veet removes hair, dignity and self respect...:)

Two sides of a coin

Life is really like that .... two sides to every situation .... inseparably one.

Almost everything around me contributes to my life-long depression .... yet the same things are my crutches that enable me to cope with the depression.

Being a parent .... so depressing .... imprisoning ....

The Inexorable Decline

GOIAB
Growing Old Is A Bugga

Every few weeks you notice some small change .... something that hurts a little more than it used to.... something new that hurts ....

Getting dressed is a little harder .... I notice that if I need to get something off the floor .... I now look round for some tool to scoop it up rather than bending over.

The slow decline happens insidiously ... I just realize "Oh ... I can't do that anymore!"

My left hip hurts .... as this slowly deteriorates I ponder whether I really want to go through the pain and difficulty of a hip operation? In the future will the hip be the crucial factor that "tips the scales"?

I am quite sure that there will come a point when I decide that "I've had enough ... I want to go now."

I hope that this time will be reached after our society has accepted that people really do want to control their own existence.

The thought of attending a clinic ... of being able to simply press a button and go to sleep .... This would be so much better than having to escape with car and hose .... Or the mess and indignity of a noose .... Or the uncertainty and pain of drug overdose.

Maybe a trip to Europe ....