Thursday, May 08, 2008

*warning* this post contains strong language & opinions

"australian dad says, 'i was addicted to incest'.". plug your ears if you must, but to this i cry BULLSHIT. how conveinient in our society that anything we want can, in the blink of an eye, become an "addiction". we merrily throw our self-control, morality, conscience and impluse control out the window in favor of self-indulgence and "me me me" ... and if anyone calls us on it, we're "addicted". to shoes, reality tv, starbucks, fashion, tech toys, email, the internet, sleep, cars, whatever. being "addicted" removes any personal responisibility at all - we become "victims" rather than people who made choices. i am not talking here about genuine addiction - i am talking about the things we claim addictions that are just our own craven darkness that we want to absolve ourselves of responsibility for. so to this man, who is sorry he got caught and looking for a way to become a victim instead of a perpetrator, i say bullshit. you are not a victim. you deserve everything the book could possibly throw at you, and then some.

5 comments:

Mrs. Hall said...

I agree! I had an eleven year old tell me yesterday she was having mood swings that were causing her to attack boys in my class. I said the same thing (well not exactly, I could have been fired...I said "bull") to her attempt to absolve herself of responsibility.

Jessica said...

That story has disturbed me since it came out. I don't understand what that idiot was thinking! I hope he doesn't get the insanity plea. . . I hope he rots in a cell all by himself without seeing the light of day again!

Sarah said...

It's even more fun when you are the one that is supposed to be fixing these ailments, so it turns out that their attacking someone is actually your fault for not giving them enough xanax. Wee!...

Marilyn said...

so ... wanna sit and devise some appropriate punishments ... whaaahahaha!I like it when you get nasty.

comfortandjoy said...

They aren't victims, but they are addicted. It gets in their eyes. Their hands shake with wanting. Once there was a soul, but it yields. It yields. And soon, they can't hear you cry "please stop," in a small voice. And soon, they forget that you are something more than a body to bend and stretch. And soon, you forget too.