In the summer of 1980, the group of miscreants I called my friends (and still do) and I spent much of the summer in Cedar Falls and Waterloo, Iowa, cruising up and down the six-lane University Avenue that ran through those conjoined cities. We were part of a larger group of teens who would cruise, sit in empty parking lots and gas, and just generally enjoy the warm, eastern Iowa summer nights. But not all of the local dudes were on the up and up.
Part of the usual crowd were two girls, whom I will refer to only as D and P. They were best friends, went everywhere together, did everything together, and were both cute as buttons. They were typical small-town girls of the time, sweet, sunny-natured. And then, one Saturday night, D went down in the parking lot. Someone had slipped something into her pop can. A buddy of mine and I sat on either side of her in the back seat of my car, keeping her safe, waiting for her to recover, while P watched anxiously from the front. Eventually, whatever it was wore off, and we saw that the two girls got home safely.
We knew who had done it. There was a guy who had a reputation for that kind of thing. He had been there. He had access to D's pop can. So the next night, four of us went cruising and found the guy. He spent two nights in the hospital with several broken ribs and a cracked jaw. We never heard of his trying anything like that again. That used to be how things like this were handled. It was rough. But it worked.
So, when I saw yet another sexual-harassment lawsuit filed, it made me wonder. Was that such a bad way to handle things?
An exec at one of NYC’s top real estate firms allegedly bragged about threesomes and groped a male underling, telling him “I could have you if I wanted,” according to a lawsuit.
Paul Herman, president of Brown Harris Stevens’ Residential Management Division, invited the then new employee to a steakhouse in August 2022 and spoke “about the recent passing of his romantic partner” during a shared taxi ride to the restaurant, the worker, identified only as John Doe, said in court papers.
Doe, a vice president and managing director at the real estate brokerage tasked with overseeing one of its “prime properties on Central Park West,” accused Herman, 67, of touching his leg during the boozy meal, then afterward asked him to come up to Herman’s apartment.
Once in Herman’s home, the boss offered the employee champagne and marijuana before plopping himself on Doe’s lap “and forcibly kissed him,” the employee claimed.
The victim “immediately objected,” prompting Herman to allegedly declare he could “have” Doe, and to describe “a threesome with a restaurant manager that allegedly took place in the middle of his living room,” the employee said in the Manhattan Federal Court lawsuit.
A lawsuit is, yes, the civilized way to handle this sort of thing. It's what one would expect of our modern era - yes? But it begs the question, if Paul Herman's unsavory proclivities had been tempered by the notion that, in this kind of thing, his most likely portion would have been a knobkerrie fist to the kisser, would that have cooled his jets some?
I have always felt that sometimes, in some circumstances and for some people, the best way to deal with them is a good, hard punch in the snoot. Unfortunately, it seems these days very few young men have ever thrown a punch - or taken one. And honestly, a good number of people would profit from the experience, especially on the receiving end.
Cory Booker Has a Complete Meltdown, Slams Other Democrats Because the Orange Man Is Just That Bad
When I was a kid, our school, like any school in the late '60s and '70s, had a few bullies. The advice given to fathers and sons on the topic was "Always stand up to him. Never back down. Don't start a fight, but don't be afraid to end one." And most of all, "Sooner or later, a bully always runs into someone bigger and meaner than they are." I can remember a couple of occasions when I was the bigger, meaner one. That was how we handled it, and it was surprising how many friendships sprang up with the prospective bully realizing that you wouldn't back down and were willing to trade him blow for blow. At the very least, there was a mutual respect found after the exchange of knuckle sandwiches.
This extended past the schoolyard. I can recall a couple of instances from my younger years when word got around about a certain guy slapping his wife around, that is, until word got back to the wife's father and brothers, after which the abusive husband was treated to a bare-knuckled Attitude Adjustment.
That was how we handled things. It worked. Was it better? Was it worse? Was it civilized? I'm not sure. But it worked.
Self-reliance is good. Reliance on family and friends is good. And, no matter how the more effete among us may protest the notion of a good hard shot to the snoot, there's still a place for it. I think there always will be. After all, it works.
