I was watching the news last night, and noticed that there was another teacher getting it on with her young student, and there was trouble afoot, blah, blah, blah.
Anyway, I thought the picture looked relatively familiar, but didn’t think much more about it until this morning.
That was when I had a chance to pay more attention, and the picture wasn’t completely skewed in a news station’s sorry attempt at filling up a 16:9 frame.
So, as it turns out, I “know” this person. And by “know”, I mean we’ve communicated indirectly on a BBS nearly thirteen years ago, and we both happened to be at the same party on a couple of different occassions.
Which in any case, means that I now definitively know a child molester. Yes, now I can add that to the cadre of unusual people I’ve met, with full confidence.
Sure, I’ve suspected people of being child molesters, but I’ve never had full-fledged proof before.
Now, I suppose I could come up with all sorts of awful things to say, but to be honest, I remember her husband as a nice guy, and it’s a shame he and her children are going to have to deal with this.
Instead of something awful, I’ll recount a story that involves the accused…
The year was 1995, and my friends and I were going to an M-Net party. I’ll cut through all sorts of incriminating facts and we’ll jump towards the end of the evening, where one of my friends (who shall remain nameless) was terribly inebriated.
In his drunken haze, he gazed upon this person’s future husband, who had attended the party as Frank N. Furter from Rocky Horror in full regalia.
“Who is she?” he asked me.
“That’s not a ‘she’.” I replied.
“Well, she’s fucking hot.”
