Vassar...Vassar?

    

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. At Vassar some ditzbunny got blitzed, got laid, and a year later decided that she had been sexually assaulted. I guess she didn’t notice it at the time. You have to be alert to know when you have been raped. It can happen when you are distracted, maybe working on your laundry list, and you don’t find out about it for a while.

Congruent with the national fantasy that college girls don’t know about sex or the effects of beer, a conventionally imbecilic judge found the guy guilty. No surprise here. (“What part of “yes” don’t you understand, your honor?”)

But check out the astonishing email she wrote to the offender:

"I'm really sorry I led you on last night I should have known better then [sic] to let my self [sic] drink yet, I really don't want this to effect [sic] our team dynamic or friendship. I don't think any less of you at all I had a wonderful time last night I'm just too close to my previous relationship to be in one right now."

Doesn’t sound very raped to me, but what do I know? I love her grammar. The child is semiliterate. I couldn’t have gotten away with such stuff in the sixth grade. Vassar? The national fingers drop. Drop, drop, drop they drop.

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