I thought this was satire, but it is either thoughtless or an insult. Public money was spent getting a graphic artist, choosing the designing, selecting colours, approving, printing and publishing this logo for the Prime Minister's and Cabinet's Women's Network.
Poor messaging. pic.twitter.com/jDYKNdMCkg— National Older Women's Network Australia (@OlderWomenNetAu) March 13, 2022
That’s a bad W, and what about the whole thing is meant to suggest “network”? I think the graphic designers couldn’t come up with anything, and shoved this kludge out the door just to try and collect their fee, which apparently they did. It should have been firmly rejected.
Your right. I saw a tampon and a string.
I saw a large breasted woman on a skate board, i suppose i depends where your minds at.
Is this one of those optical illusion tests, where the first thing you see determines your personality or something?
“If the first thing you see is titties, then…”
I saw cock & balls, so I guess I failed the Rorschach once again in the heterosexuality department.
This brings a story to mind. When I first took the psychological tests at Southland, the local personnel man who went over my results told me that my answers were “feminine.” I told him that I thought I was pretty much a typical guy. I pointed out that while I did read the arts and leisure section of the paper, it was only after finishing the sports, and I never had looked at the style section in my life. I took a mental inventory of myself. While I majored in literature, could sing show tunes, and even liked some Judy Garland numbers, I also went to strip clubs, drank Lone Star beer in the long-neck bottle, and could occasionally hit 400-foot home runs, so I felt that I was a reasonably balanced male of the species. I was not Charles Bronson, but neither was I Truman Capote. So I inquired as to what made me so “feminine”?
His example? “Well, look here. On this question of whether you’d rather be a coal miner or a florist, almost all guys pick coal miner and you went the other way, as women do.” My answer was direct: “Listen, I don’t give a shit about any fuckin’ flowers, but I never heard of any guy dying from ‘pink lung.'”
I don’t know if that made me any more manly in his eyes. He was a retired Colonel with a buzz cut. His credenza proudly displayed a fifth of Johnny Walker, which he probably used as cologne, and also poured on his Wheaties. He was the kind of guy who wore cowboy boots with a suit, so he probably still thought I was on the wrong side of the Liberace line, but I did get the job I applied for and kept moving upward in the firm, so it’s all good.
Coal miner vs florist? Who the hell comes up with this crap? Show tunes on the other hand … ah everyone deserves a pass. A couple songs I like probably wouldn’t show up on the most manly tunes list.
My law school, Washington & Lee, had several clinical programs that allowed students to get practical experience. One of them was a Black Lung clinic helping coal miners navigate the workers compensation style system that been established to help the miners. But I didn’t apply to work in the Black Lung clinic. I went to the women’s prison instead. Contrary to every women in prison movie I had ever seen, most of the inmates were not young nubile beauties. Martha Stewart wasn’t bad looking, but she didn’t go to Alderson until after I had graduated. The inmates that were there did have problems that were more varied and interesting than I imagine helping miners fill out paperwork would have been. Many of them had stories that would literally break your heart. There was an African-American woman in her 50’s that was there because her crack dealer son wouldn’t testify against his suppliers. He was living with her while he sold crack, so they charged her with maintaining a facility in support of a drug conspiracy and her lawyer told her to take a plea. Obviously an AUSA had told the son to testify or they would put his mother in prison and when he wouldn’t they did it. That was so evil you would think it was during the Trump administration, but it was 1997.
What a travesty of justice. The war on drugs is the same kind of bleeding ulcer to America that Spain was to Napoleon, and we cannot figure out how to stop it. It is a “moral issue” and not a practical one, and therefore rational solutions cannot even be considered. I don’t even know what they are. I just send the Drug Policy Alliance a check once in a while.
What I really can’t understand is why when 3/4 of the states have legalized at least medical marijuana, the federal government still has it in the same drug class as heroin. Actually, doctors are allowed to prescribe opiods, but it is against federal law for a doctor to prescribe marijuana. My primary care doctor works for a program that gets federal funding and as a result he is legally barred from even discussing marijuana with me. Obviously he is also barred from certifying me for the NY State medical marijuana program. He is however allowed to prescribe me opioids. While there are telehealth options for certification, they are barred from certifying anyone taking prescription opioids unless they provide ongoing care, which those services do not offer. Meaning while I may want to use medical marijuana as a way to take smaller doses of opioids, New York State feels that is too dangerous and I should take larger doses of opioids instead.
Back to the subject of the prison, I did know a woman that had been sentenced to 33 years in prison because of marijuana. Now that might seem excessive, but she had literally tons of marijuana. But most of that sentence was because of two firearms enhancements. Using or carrying a firearm as part of a drug conspiracy adds 5 years to your sentence while a second count adds 20 years. She got a 25 year sentence reduction because there was a problem with the jury instruction used at her trial. Just to be clear, I had nothing to do with that reduction.