The Worst Part of the Trump Tapes
Alaura Weaver

Some pro athletes responded to Trump’s “locker-room talk” that they do not agree that it’s the norm and a banality. I did, and still do my time in locker-rooms and such ‘conversation’ is not welcome. Even beasts resist being bestial better than us intelligent beasts with greater imaginations, especially in frat-house extensions like country clubs and Fox news off-camera spaces.

This supposed locker-room ‘guy-thing’ is often a ploy by weak links who want to provoke a dominance struggle by getting “the guys” to say stupidities in a group in order to create a trap for guilt by association. You’re reluctant to exclude someone who has something public on you he can use to try to bring you down.

Group fusion is often done in frats as a form of ritual bonding, through victimization usually. I declined an invitation to join a frat at university when a ‘brother’ started to demean a girl at a keg party one evening in order to incite others to pile-on and enjoy the spiraling-down ritual sacrifice. The girl broke down in tears and started getting hysterical, to the glee of the “band of brothers.” I suddenly heard a voice in my head say “No!”, and, without a moment’s hesitation, despite knowing I might get thumped by the ‘brothers’ there and then, I went over to her and asked if she would like me to walk her home. I said to the ring-leader ‘brother’ the fun was over and he got the picture I was about to act to enforce my words and stop the cinema. I walked the girl home and the next day got myself scratched from the possible-pledge list.

Within a year, as the protest against the Vietnam war gave our young minds an adult reason to form a ‘community’ (rather than a tribe), the frat uniform of Madras shirts, dress pants and Florsheim wing-tip shoes went out, and many of the frat houses went out of business for lack of bondable-brothers.

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