A matter of luck?

A real prince of a guy, Trevis Smith, was sentenced to five and half years in court today after being convicted for knowingly exposing two women HIV by having unprotected sex with them. Neither of them were infected.

Now, I don't disagree for a moment that this guy is a dick (apparently, a latex-free one). Maybe he was just reckless, maybe he was angry and really wanted to infect them, maybe he just really likes bareback sex. I don't know.

What I do know is that the prosecutor, Bill Burge, is totally talking out of his ass when he "argued that Smith knew the dangers of HIV and he knew that he had a responsibility to disclose his condition to his sexual partners.

'It was just a matter of luck' that neither was infected," Burge said.

Not exactly. Our friendly neighbourhood AIDS page on Wikipedia gives a very useful table of estimated rates of infection per 10,000 exposures. Rates of exposure for receptive penile-vaginal intercourse...survey says...10.

Ten per 10,000. That's an infection rate of 0.001%. [Correction: 0.1%] Not exactly a matter of "luck," then. More like a 99.9% chance that the woman wouldn't be infected. I would take those odds.

I don't deny that these women probably went through a few hellish months waiting for their test results. Sucks to be them. Insist on a condom next time. And yeah, our Trojan horse really should have disclosed his HIV status. (Like, as if he'd ever get laid again.) But imprisonment -- particularly for more than five years -- is ridiculously punitive.

What really frosts me is the perpetuation of an impression of HIV that is years out of date. Yeah, it was pretty scary back there in the 1986, when you didn't know if you could get it from drinking fountain, but I'd like to think we've moved on in the intervening two decades.

Five and a half years for a 0.1% chance he harmed them? How much would he have gotten if he'd driven them home after a movie? Those cars are deathtraps, I tell you. It would have been only a matter of luck if she'd gotten out alive.

We are like unto the oyster, and irritation shall bring forth pearls

The New York Times reported Friday that CanWest Global is now The New Republic's majority shareholder, and in light of plunging readership and revenue, they're rethinking their operation. Starting in a couple of weeks, they're going to publish biweekly and go to a heavier paper stock with more graphic elements.

Yeah, yeah, same tune, different verse. Wake up and smell the circling buzzards, print industry. The New Republic is essentially screwed unless they can figure out a way to get online, fast, and a way to finance their online operations sufficient to feed a high level of journalism.

I guess the good news is that they know it. As Martin Peretz, the editor-in-chief puts it,

"The print publication cannot keep up with the news,” Mr. Peretz said. So actual news will go up on the Web site, which now has five employees, up from two a year ago, while the longer production cycle for the print magazine will give writers more time for reporting.

But by far the best part of that article is the following information:

To that end, Mr. Peretz has become a blogger. "He said he was “not enjoying it exactly,” but that he had found it addictive.

“When I used to see something irritating, I would typically call a friend,” he said. “Now I just go to the blog.”

There's hope for TNR yet.

HA HA HA HA HA HA!

My attentive readers will already know how incensed I am by this smug local eco-couple, Sarah McGaughey and Kyle Glover. Imagine my blood-pressure reading when I discovered this morning they've actually decided to reproduce.

Of course, there was much angst over the buying of the pregnancy test and how could she possibly buy ginger ale that comes in bottle with a non-recyclable cap. (Or something. I cannot quote it because little pieces of my brain are currently adhering to my monitor.)

Motherfucker. I laughed out loud. Because I hate to break it to them, but babies come with stuff. Poop and stuff, stuff and poop, stuff on poop, that's pretty much it for the first year. You don't buy it most of it. It just arrives, and surrounds your 9lb wonder like a miasma.

Sarcasm aside -- I do fear for these two gopher-cute beardies with their child. Because I've known a fair number who have had their little theories All Worked Out before the birth -- cloth diapers, family bed, homemade baby food, no plastic toys, no Disney shit -- and they've had a hard landing when the kid is actually a real live thing who is screaming at them GET ME AN ELMO I CANNOT STAND THE SIGHT OF THIS MONTESSORI CRAP AND I AM GOING TO PRY OUT MY EYES WITH THIS PIAGET STICK. There's nothing harder than having to give up your sleep and your principles in the same month.

Meaning, when Sarah and Kyle's little dude is cutting his first teeth and has been behaving like a total asshole for two days, but then miraculously turns normal again 20 minutes after his first dose of Advil (which only comes in teeny tiny non-recyclable bottles, surrounded by liability insurance and cardboard and plastic), I can absolutely promise you they won't be thinking, "this is wrong." They will be thinking, "where can I get more of this?" and "that 'no more than 4 doses a day' shit is just ass-covering nonsense, right?"


Wishing your baby health and happiness, Kyle and Sarah. And that pack of disposibles that's going to turn up on the porch in a year? You can thank me later.

Ooh la la!

Gerbe, a French pantyhose-maker, has announced its latest line of men's tights and pantyhose. Can you think of anything less sexy than hairy legs encased in sheer nude nylon? (Well yes, I can, but I try not to mention baby poop more than once a month on this blog.) It's horrible enough when women do it, but then that is our sacred right, owing to some complex equation involving tradeoffs between the existence of Daisy razors and facial hair.

However, my objection to this product is more than just aesthetic: it had been my impression that the two best things about being a man were:

1. able to pee standing up
2. never have to wear nylons

Kindly, all the photos of male models sporting COLLANT MEN SATIN 20, as they are known, are shown without heads. This brought to mind photos in medical textbooks where the child with the suppurating rash has its head blacked out so that when she joins the Class of 2018 at McGill she won't be unpleasantly surprised in Anatomy 101. Gerbe may be cruel enough to inflict men's nylons on the world, but not so cruel that these men won't be able to kiss their grandmas with a clear conscience.