The Aruban incident ticks me off on three levels:
1. The total obfuscation coming from the pencil neck geek Aruban teens, from the Frankenstein-like Dutch punk and from his lawless lawyer father. As macabre and irreparably dented as the BTK killer is, at least when he was caught, he came clean. Not so with these palm pilots.
2. The incredibly decrepit Aruban Keystone cops and their banana republic judicial system who have handled this case like MC Hammer handled his finances during the 90’s and . . .
3. The fact that this could have been avoided if . . . if . . . Natalee would have simply run away from with these little horn dogs.
What the heck is a good-looking blonde girl doing leaving her friends at midnight to go off with the Netherlands’ version of Lurch and the local Mango brothers? With all due respect to Natalee and her parents, what was she thinking? She was asking for disaster. Now, because of one bad decision, because of over-riding her common sense and probably everything her parents have told her not to do, she has, almost certainly, been murdered by these three stooges. What a shame. What a loss. And again—what an avoidable tragedy.
Of the 157 missing kids in Florida, 120 are girls, i.e. 75% of the kidnapped or murdered victims are little ladies. In addition, one out of every five teen girls will experience some form of dating violence by the time she finishes high school. The reality is, ladies, Happy Days are over and the girls have got to wise up if they want to avoid being duct taped and stuck in the trunk of some loser’s Trans Am.
The answer is not isolation. There really aren’t any Mayberry RFD’s to move to any more, as weird guys seem to be everywhere today. Therefore, it is up to you, my little chicas bonitas, to become sharper than a bag of wet mice when you party, travel and date. Yes, even blondes must cease to be “blonde” in their deductions of most dudes.
In order to be safe and still have a good time I’ve concocted a helpful list of pointers—some borrowed from Safety Chick, Kathleen Baty, some from www.familyeducation.com and some from my own ridiculously distrusting, overprotective, don’t-mess-with-my-daughters-or-I’ll-kill-you brain. If followed, you stand a pretty good chance of avoiding the Van der Sluts—I mean—Sloots that are out there. Here we go . . .
1. Whet your BS detector. Girls, if ‘red flags’ start going off in your head, your skin begins to crawl up your arm and your gut revolts against your eyes and ears, then you might want to pay attention to what your body/ intuition is telling you. Yes, Gavin de Becker’s Gift of Fear (that we all have and often to our detriment, override) is trying to tell you there is a lot wrong with Mr. Rico Suave—no matter how he looks or what he says. Yes, your sixth sense is trying to tell you there is something awry with Mr. Nice Guy. Don’t blow this in-house salvo off, but rather get well acquainted with your internal ticker; it’ll help you see through the veil of crap most bad guys live behind.
2. Party Smart. When out partying, lame guys with hackneyed existences have found ways around getting a life before they get a girl. It is called, as you all know, date rape drugs. With the advent of roofies and ecstasy, losers are able to work around your brain and body (if they can lace your drink) by getting you so smashed that you throw off any inhibitions (or go unconscious) so they can try their ham-fisted moves on you. So, to avoid being French kissed, raped, impregnated, kidnapped or murdered by these slugs:
• Don’t take a drink from a stranger. Receive your drink, only, only from the bartender; watch him make it, and then have him hand it directly to you.
• Don’t leave your drink lying around where Goofy can drop a roofie in it.
• Don’t party with brain-dead buddies. Hang out with friends who aren’t like Gary Busey or Tara Reid, who keep their wits about them when they’re having a good time, who will not let you leave with three local peons or get ridiculously wasted, who have a well honed BS detector and who will not let you get behind the wheel of your 330I if you’ve had seven shots of Cabo Wabo.
3. Learn to Kick Butt. A good defense is a strong offense, and ladies, I’m a big advocate of your learning how to dissemble a man, should the need arise, with your own hands, feet and weapon. If I were you, my dear, I would take martial arts, learn how to use a knife, buy a gun and get a concealed weapons permit. I’m talking getting packed, stacked and ready to whack.
Yes, you would do well to follow hard in the path of Lara Croft, Charlie’s Angels, Annie Oakley and Wonder Woman in learning how to wail on any would-be perpetrator. Can you imagine if one of those Aruban rubes made some ill advance on Natalee, and she were able to go Jackie Chan on them? The May 31st Aruba Diario headlines would have been somewhat different. They would have read, “Dutch dill weed admitted to ER last night to have proctologist remove driftwood from his backside put there by young blonde who told him ‘no’ and meant it.”
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