here is some pretty nail polish girls

Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away —

I am in a bar with a girlfriend.

We are both on the dance floor when I see a guy dump something in my friend’s drink at our table.

I grab a server, “A guy dumped something in my friend’s drink.”

He is blank.

“Blank Guy, get your manager.”

The manager shows.

“A guy dumped something in my friend’s drink.”

Manager Guy says, “What do you want me to do about it?”
 

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Think about that. “What do you want me to do about it?”
 

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I tell him what I think he should do about it.

Club security forces are gathering — and not looking for a man dosing girls’ drinks. They’re looking at me.

Then the guy I am pointing out across the room pours something in another girl’s drink.
 

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The difference between me getting thrown out and the guy dosing girls’ drinks getting thrown out? Ten seconds.

 

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This is the world I live in. I know that. I am “the problem” a lot. And I am going to be the problem again now.  Because the press is hyping “nail polish to avoid being raped.” And I am pissed off.

 

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“Dear girls, here is some pretty pink nail polish, wear it and maybe you will be saved from rape”?

Are you fucking kidding me?

One more message: Be pretty, be demure, be quiet, don’t make waves, just put on this pretty pink nail polish?

Fuck. You.

 

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I don’t want to put on pretty pink nail polish and be demure.

I want to see people raging through city streets with torches and pitchforks hunting down and killing rapists.

 

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It is time for this world to understand the problem is not girls and the answer is not nail polish.

The problem is rapists and the solutions at the top of my list are castration and death.

 

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PS: Dear Rapists: I am armed. And it ain’t with nail polish.