Michael Johnson, 60, moved into this three-floor Victorian terrace house on Warwick Road in Carlisle last October after being assured by the local council and estate agents that the 2005 floods could never happen again thanks to the flood defences. To his horror, this weekend’s floods were far worse.
Some 9,000 litres of flood water was being pumped from his devastated house when he spoke to me this afternoon. After this weekend’s damage he wants to sell the £300,000 property but fears no one would buy it.
“The problem is who’s gonna buy a house that’s been flooded twice in 10 years? Even if you make it a palace … I feel as though I’m probably stuck here now,” he says.
So let’s talk about that drink. I’ve discussed solely looking at the lyrics of the song and its internal universe so far, but I think that the line “Say, what’s in this drink” needs to be explained in a broader context to refute the idea that he spiked her drink. “Say, what’s in this drink” is a well-used phrase that was common in movies of the time period and isn’t really used in the same manner any longer. The phrase generally referred to someone saying or doing something they thought they wouldn’t in normal circumstances; it’s a nod to the idea that alcohol is “making” them do something unusual. But the joke is almost always that there is nothing in the drink. The drink is the excuse. The drink is the shield someone gets to hold up in front of them to protect from criticism. And it’s not just used in these sort of romantic situations. I’ve heard it in many investigation type scenes where the stoolpigeon character is giving up bits of information they’re supposed to be protecting, in screwball comedies where someone is making a fool of themselves, and, yes, in romantic movies where someone is experiencing feelings they are not supposed to have.
From here. (And I really like “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” despite the “HEY IT’S A RAPE SONG” arguments against it.)
Was It/No No
A brief note to say that I haven’t forgotten you all, nor was the “And then it’s over” title of the last update a sign; time has simply been against me recently, thanks to the onset of the holidays and various things related to that. I promise, I’ll be back here soon. In the meantime, this song seems appropriate for the day:
Women need to be believed.
I understand that a lot of people have intellectual issues with uncritically accepting a woman’s outcry in regard to sexual assault. I understand that lives are ruined by false rape allegations. I don’t have to agree with these positions to understand that they exist. But look. This is really simple. Nothing gets better unless an outcry is heard and believed.
An acquaintance of mine stated at the weekend that she was raped by her now ex-boyfriend. She is a well-known sex worker. The backlash was horrible. Lots of people applied the first two sentences in the previous paragraph, and that was far from the worst of it. Not least because she made the statement on Twitter and there are a lot of insane people using Twitter. She was told to shut up, she was told that standards of consent don’t apply to her because she’s a sex worker, she was told she was a liar.
I believe Stoya. Not just because she’s an acquaintance. But because she’s a woman.
Make the world a slightly less shitty place. When a woman finds the courage to speak – or hits bottom and has to scream – believe them. Save all your rationalisations and hatred and half-smart bullshit for another time and put out your hand and stand with them. Stop making it all about you. Just once, make it about them. Believe women.
From Warren Ellis’ newsletter, and well worth sharing.
As you can see, in Carson’s map the states of Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine are moved northeast by about 150 miles or so. Vermont and New York now have hundreds of miles of new beachfront property. Massachusetts shares a border with Canada. Maine straddles what is now the Gulf of Saint Lawrence.