The Dirtiest Law
Recently, I posted a note at Jason Kottke’s blog about a situation he got caught up in at the playground. What happened, according to Kottke, was this: some kid came up to his child and slapped him, twice, unprovoked. Kottke, in response, grabs the kid and tries to talk to him, but then his mother comes up and asks, threateningly, if he was planning to hit her child.
My response was that Kottke failed as a parent because he didn’t protect his kid right away. Worse, still, was that he grabbed the other kid — that can be construed as assault. I basically said he should’ve pushed the other kid away right away and secured his own child before confronting the mother. THIS IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO, legally. No person has a right to judge the parenting skills of another person. We have laws, determined by the community, to do that.
Some douche-bag, in response, says I’m wrong. He says we should all teach children the right thing to do. Right, dumbass. Let that filthy Cornell grad next door teach your kid how to pick up warts in the public shower. Or maybe Ginger girl, who recently wore a skirt so short that when she bent over in front of me in the laundry room I was able to see what she had for lunch — maybe she can teach your child how to bite off toenails at the dinner table.
The problem is not that most people are bad parents, the problem is that most people are of average intelligence and, as a consequence, cannot see the fine details apparent to only the most intelligent of us. What if the mother decided to call the police and plea, “this man grabbed my child like he was going to rip his arm off! Officer, please help us, I’m so scared. He won’t leave us alone!” What Kottke doesn’t seem to understand is that police officers and judges base decisions on how you tell your story — not truth, per se — and his story put him in a lot of danger.
The general rule is that everyone should know all laws: ignorance is not a viable defense. Yet, most people — average common folk — have no idea about law. And that is just sad.
Don’t take my word for it. I’ve long discouraged friends from investing in Britain. Why? Because English law favors “equality” among partners in the event of a divorce. That means, your wife can cheat on you then sue you for half, even though your pre-nup says otherwise.
Hilariously, English divorce lawyer Raymond Tooth alludes to this in today’s New York Times.
For years, just the word that London’s premier divorce lawyer, Raymond Tooth, was calling was enough to spread fear and loathing among a certain class of wealthy British men. It meant that no fortune, no matter how large and protected, was likely to remain intact.
Now don’t get me wrong: I don’t believe in pre-nups. Commitment, to me, is absolute: you commit what you commit. If you commit your life to someone, you commit your entire life — including the money. (If you’re afraid to do this then you clearly don’t date enough.) But this is different. You entered into an agreement, you made a deal, and English law says it’s O.K. to back out of it. There is something dishonourable about that, something dirty, like grime on a shower wall — hard to see, but definitely there.