Just Beat It

So Chris Brown gets no jail time for beating the crap out of Rihanna. Am I the only one not surprised at this? Or that in other comparable cases the term was anywhere from three months to two years, yet the rich celebrity got what, now? Oh, yeah, nothing.

I would like to pick on California for this, where the case went to court, but hitting another person isn’t taken very serious in any state or by the authorities. Unless you are Perez Hilton, then you can whine your flamboyant little ass off about it and sue. But if you’re a child, who we as adults stress to go “tell someone if something is going on” or a battered husband or wife, well then you are out of luck. Because nobody is going to do a damn thing, especially if the person assaulting you is a celeb or has money. And if it’s just fear tactics and verbal abuse, well, then, suck it up, sister, because it’ll be your fault for provoking the poor schlub by the time you get done telling somebody—assuming you can even get somebody to listen.

So in the USA, oh, what the hell, in the world, it’s ok, go ahead and hit your husband or wife, beat the living tar right out of them, then wait a few days and do it again. Don’t forget to belittle them in front of others and make them feel like scum when you are alone. Leave bruises. Break some teeth. Why not? We live in a nation of cowards who’ll just chuckle and not get involved. Kick your kids in the face. Break an arm even and tell the doctors the poor lad is clumsy, oh my.

Oh, and make sure you don’t fight back, because then YOU will go to jail. YOU will be charged because YOU violated the poor abuser’s rights.

Screw it all. I don’t know why I bother even talking about it because no one listens but those who have been through it or are already tilting at the system windmills. And half the time even the battered won’t help because they are too conditioned into taking it and accepting it as love or attention. They are already too screwed up to have a normal caring relationship with another and run back to the person they “love”. Aww, ain’t love grand? I mean, really, ain’t it? Love is all about smacking around your best friend, controlling them, putting them in an emotional electric cage.

Warms the heart, doesn’t it? Perhaps it’s plain useless to keep talking about it, trying to help. Easier to hide, look the other way. Then we can just send flowers and call it good. Assuage our guilt. It’s just not our problem. It’s someone else’s. Darn, that’s awful, but have a good day.

Sure.

Course, there’s that other choice: grow a set. But in this society I don’t see that happening anytime soon. I just don’t see anyone listening. Much less stopping it.

So why bother?

Unless of course you give a damn…