Letters to the Editor
Allie_
Published Letters: 1252 Editor's Choice: 109
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and, for my husband
[Read the article: Lost girls?]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]Two oddities:
First, he scored very low on the "empathizer" questions, but maxed out the test on which eyes showed which emotions, which is also supposed to be a measure of empathy. So... is he empathetic or not? He certainly appears to be empathetic to those who live with him.
Second, he maxed out the 3d rotational test (no surprise) but did very poorly on the angles test. I note that although he visualizes things in 3d for a living, he can't navigate worth a crap. Maybe the angles test is more indicative of navigational ability (it's a sense of direction he lacks, his map reading skills are fine) than the rotational one.
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re: feral cats
[Read the article: I hate my cat!]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]MacK - I get what you're saying about ferals versus strays. At the moment my mom has two cats rescued from a stall in the barn. They are what you would classify as "strays," cats that have been wild for several generations, certainly, but not long enough to differ genetically from domestic cats.
However, I have once owned a truly feral cat, and he was the best cat ever. His name was Rhadamanthus. He needed a big name, because he was a big cat. He was cream-colored (for some reason, in Tennessee, a large number of feral cats revert to this cream-with-lynx-points type) and half again the size of a normal cat. He weighed 23 points, and it was solid muscle. He had an interesting, flat-nosed, hideous face. The first time I spotted him, it was night and he was sitting in the spill of light outside my window and I thought a demon had come down to visit me. He was that ugly.
I was thirteen years old at the time, and I spent an entire summer trying to get my hands on that cat, crouching in the grass, meowing, making kitten noises, anything to hold his attention and interest while I crept closer. Finally one day it happened: he let me touch him. The transformation was instantaneous and amazing. He purred like thunder and rubbed against my legs. I petted that cat for half an hour. Then I stood up to leave; my legs were numb from crouching for so long. And he growled in fury, demanding that I pet him more. I petted him, he purred; stood up, he growled. Two hours later he had followed me back to the house. I ran inside, slammed the door, and put some food out for him.
Although he never became a housecat, after that first encounter, he was a charming and affectionate, outgoing cat. He never bit or attacked anyone, although he would growl and yowl if he was displeased. Apparently he had been waiting his whole life to meet a person, because once he got started, he never looked back. Once, just once, he marched into the house behind me, looked around, decided he disapproved, and marched right back out. We did trap him and take him to the vet to be neutered and get rabies shots, and although he made hair-raising noises, he didn't injure anyone, and he forgave us quickly.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about him was that he was the only cat I've ever known who would just lie down and sleep in the middle of an open field. He feared nothing.
He was a mature cat when we first discovered him, but he lived quite a few years, sometimes disappearing for weeks and months at a time. Eventually, like all outdoor cats, he disappeared forever.
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correction: pounds
[Read the article: I hate my cat!]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]23 pounds. My husband says it was actually 27, but I remember it differently.
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I wasn't home
[Read the article: Google is watching you (but so is everyone else)]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]On the day Google maps shot my neighborhood, my car wasn't in the driveway. I wonder where I was.
Sure, anyone could have driven by and looked over and seen that I wasn't home. But it feels odd to have it immortalized on the web.
In a chatroom where I hang out, someone was bragging about his car; someone else looked up his name, found his address, found a picture of it, and discovered that he, in fact, did not drive a brand new hot car, but instead drove a beat-up used one. Mocking ensued.
Yeah, it's a brave new world. Better get used to it.
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victim's viewpoint
[Read the article: District attorney won't take gang rape case]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]Well... okay... yuck. Horrible situation. I'm trying to give the D.A. the benefit of the doubt here, and having some trouble guessing what circumstances could possibly justify her decision. A little daylight would be nice.
I note that the tagline for the article says, "The alleged victim, witnesses, and the local sheriff are outraged." Yet the article doesn't give any indication that this is true. Where is the victim? Okay, she's a minor, but has she said she wants this prosecuted? It's a very rare instance where a D.A. would refuse to prosecute a case where the victim wants charges brought.
The D.A. seems to be saying that the witnesses do not agree on what happened. Two of the rescuers are going on television to talk about it; where is the third? If the third girl says that their story is bullshit, obviously it would be difficult to prosecute.
In any case, if any of the guys there were older than 21, there's a statutory rape case; and there's corruption of a minor for whoever bought her the booze.