Horrible things keep surfacing in the Epstein material. Millions of pages, thousands of images and videos, and still not a single meaningful arrest. The machinery grinds, but only in safe directions.
Here, an average nobody gets dragged through court for a cartoon porn parody — Simpsons, Pokémon, pick your flavour. Named, shamed, branded for life. The law moves fast when the offender is small enough to crush. When the accused are rich, powerful, connected, the process slows to a dignified halt. Sit still. Deny. Let time do the work.
Epstein dies in prison. His most prominent accuser dies just before publishing her account. Coincidences pile up. Accountability does not.
This involves women and girls, and the outrage is justified. But what rarely gets said is how invisible male victims remain. There’s still a stubborn belief that boys can’t be trafficked, can’t be coerced, must have consented. Too often their stories are dismissed before they’re even heard. Power knows this. Power relies on it.
Nothing dramatic happening here. I was meant to go to a demo on Sunday, but the train broke down, so I ended up looking at cars for my grandson. You really feel time passing when the grandkids start university. Engineering, this one. Driving now. No girlfriend yet. Different generation. Different rhythms.
There’s another protest next week. Before that, I’m heading up the coast for a few quiet days on the yacht. A bottle of wine, maybe. Sunset. The world still turning, even when it shouldn’t be allowed to look this calm.