The only thing

This blog isn't about my life, it's about my writing, and I try not to proselytize, but sometimes my life and my writing intersect and I can't help myself. So, after reading countless blogs and reports, I'm just going to say this about the incident in Steubenville, with thanks to my friend Kate for boiling it down to its most basic core:

"When you see a human being passed out on a cold concrete floor, alone, all you have to do is pick her up, maybe put her in a chair. Perhaps, if you are in a really kind mood you could find her phone, dial the number for Home, and let someone know where she is.

What you don't do is rape her.  And then take photos.  And then text the photos to your buddies.  And then make jokes about it.

How did rape ever become an option for how to handle a human being in distress?"