Harry and the Human Rights Violation: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 Jack lay in bed with Tori with her head on his chest. He looked out the window of her bachelor apartment, staring only at an overcast sky.

 “You seem so distant. Is everything okay at work?” 

 He sighed. “No. My friend Harry had a human rights complaint laid against him.”

 Tori sat up. “A human rights complaint? That sounds so serious.”

 “It’s actually ridiculous. A feminist complained that one of the books in his library is misogynist.”

 “Misogynist? “

 “Some book on demographics said that sex-selection abortions should be banned. And if he loses, he might lose his job, and he’s a damned good librarian. And I don’t want to lose him, and it’d be a damned shame to see him go. He’s very dedicated. You don’t see too many people like him. Just so gung ho about his work. And all because of some stupid book.”

 “So why doesn’t he just take down the book? He’d still have his job.”

 “He thinks it’s a good book.”

 “He’s willing to risk his job over a book?”

 “The whole point of a library is that you present all kinds of views. And besides the complainant’s a bitch.”

 “Don’t you support feminism?”

 “I do, one hundred per cent.” Jack sat up and looked at Tori. “It’s the feminists I can’t stand!”  

 Tori could see that he was getting ready to leave. She felt a little sheepish, but she needed to talk to him. “Uh Jack…I’m a little short this month. I haven’t been able to find any more gigs and…I need money for birth control pills…”

 Jack picked up his pants off the floor and grabbed his wallet. He pulled out a couple of hundred dollars and placed it on the dresser. “Never feel shy about asking me for money for birth control.”

 “Thanks Jack. I appreciate it.” She noticed a spider crawl on the floor. “Oh Jack, there’s a spider on the floor.”

 He stood up and lifted his foot.

 “Don’t kill it Jack!” Jack looked at her bewildered. “It’s against my beliefs.” 

 “Your beliefs?

 “I’ve adopted non-violence towards all living creatures.”

 Jack grimaced. “What about that hamburger you had for lunch?”

 Tori was taken aback. “Well…I wasn’t the one who killed it. Look, just get rid of it.”
 Jack grabbed an envelope on the dresser and let the spider climb onto it. He then opened the window and threw it out. “Ya happy?”

 “Yes.”

 He zipped up his pants. “Barbara gets mad if I’m not home for dinner.”

 Tori didn’t like it when he mentioned her name. “You’ll be back tomorrow, right?”
 “If I can make it.” He put on his shoes and kissed her goodbye.

 She didn’t like being “the other woman.” But that’s the only way it could be if she wanted to have him. 

 They had met one Sunday night at The Rat’s Nest. Jack and his buddies were celebrating a friend’s birthday. She worked as a waitress there. On Sundays, the manager let her sing on the stage because it was the cheapest gig he could find, and no one cared about the show on Sundays in any case. Jack noticed that she had a pretty voice and thought she was really hot. He went back for a number of Happy Hours. Eventually, their relationship progressed. And eventually, Barbara found out.

 Tori’s only motive to work at the Rat’s Nest—an appropriately named bar if there ever was one—in order to save up enough money to move to Toronto and pursue her dream of making it in music. She wasn’t sure about the course to follow, but she had some vague plans of renting an apartment and hanging out with musicians in the hopes of hooking up with music industry people and eventually record an album.

 For now, her life was work, and Jack. She loved Jack. If he weren’t already married, she’d think about marrying him. Even if she were only nineteen. She liked the fact he was a family man, a man who was really serious about his life; not some adolescent frat boy spending his evenings going from party to party and his mornings parked in front of a toilet. He obviously had a track record of doing something serious with himself. He was mature and devoted. She hoped someday she could have that.

 For now, Jack would have to do.

...
 Jack got into the visitor’s parking lot and started his car. He wasn’t unhappy about going home. In fact, he loved his wife. And she loved him.

 And because of that, they had an understanding.

 She loved him so much that she thought the loving thing to do would be to let Jack have his fling. After all, after giving birth to two children, she was overweight and out of shape and not very attractive any more. She knew what Jack needed. Jack needed good sex. She couldn’t provide it. She was obese and too busy with the kids. So she thought the selfless thing to do was let him have it.

 Why get in the way of his physical gratification? She knew he would appreciate it.

 And he did.

 Jack, on the other hand, was glad that she raised his children and cooked his meals, did his laundry and made his bed. That’s what she was good at. That’s why she stayed married to her. And he loved her for it.

 And she loved him.

 The car radio was on when he turned on the ignition. It was set to AM 600, the last AM station on the dial. In public, only farty old cranks took that last staticky AM station seriously. Except everyone tuned in. To listen to the traffic and weather reports, it was assured. Not to those reprehensible talk show hosts.

 Jack thought of it as the masturbatory axe-grinding station, which the audience secretly listened to hear people piss off or be pissed off, and to react in kind, according to one’s political inclinations. The show raised one’s blood pressure, whether one liked what was being said or not. It was a political junkie’s adrenaline rush. 

 It was the Joe Colpitts show. Everyone in town knew that AM 600 was about to lose its radio license. And he was the reason. He kept crossing the line and violating Social Harmony. Behind the scenes, some begged him to tone it down, afraid that the government would shut down the last vestige of sanity that they knew of. Even if he only went half-way with his thoughts, his editorials and comments were light years ahead of anything that was available to them. 

Save the internet. 

 But Joe ignored them. If he back down, they would win. He preferred to speak up and be crushed than not say anything at all.

 “So I heard today that the Director of our beloved New Concord Municipal Library has had a Human Rights Complain laid against him. “

 Jack’s heart sank. Oh no, the media got a hold of it.

 “What for? You might ask. Did he refuse to hire a visible minority? No. Did he make unwanted sexual advances to a female employee? No. Did he threaten to kill anyone? No.”

 He began to have a conversation with himself…

“Well Joe, what did he do that was so terrible? I’ll tell you! “ 

He paused for dramatic effect. 

“He refused to take down a book. 

“A book? Like Mein Kampf or The Protocols of the Elders of Zion? 

“No. Nothing like that. The title of the book is Population Perils: A Review of Demographic Crises Around the World, by James Robinson, PhD. Sounds pretty innocuous. Well, according to a press release, Mizzzz Gisela Gruber of the Canadian Feminist Alliance is offended that on page 208 of the book, James Robinson PhD suggests that governments ban sex-selection abortions to avoid demographic disasters like the one currently being experienced in China and India. For the crime of allowing people to read an offensive idea, he is being prosecuted by the Human Rights Commission, because Mizz Gruber is terrified that you might have a thought contrary to hers.”

 Jack thought it felt kind of nice to have an ally on his side.

 “What are your thoughts? Call 555-0600 to give your opinion. And no, we don’t censor here, unlike the government. Okay first call, Matilda, you’re on the line—“

 A cackly old voice came on. “Heh-heh-hello? Am I on?”

 “This is Joe Colpitts, Matilda. You’re on the air. What do you think about the complaint against the Director of the New Concord Library?”

 “I’m appalled. Just appalled. But not surprised. We’ve been warning people against this encroachment for decades and no one would listen to us.”

 “You’re wrong, Matilda!” Joe said, sarcastically. “We’re all free to say whatever you want. Just as long as it’s not Hate.”

 “They’re just making up ‘Hate’ as it goes along. Nobody takes the word seriously any more. We all know what ‘hate’ means. And speaking of hate, Joe…it’s high time that people understood that abortion is hate…abortion is murder.”

 You could picture Joe sit back in his chair. “--Oh no, Matilda”

 She tried to get her words in. “No, no, no, it’s the murder of innocent little babies—“

 “But you’re not allowed to say that!” he screamed.

“--It’s high time someone said it out loud--”

  “I can practically hear the feminists typing away their letters of complaint to the CRTC right now saying that we’re undermining Social Harmony. Ma’am, you’re in Canada. You’re not allowed to say that—“

 “The government has gone too far—“

 “Do you realize you’re engaging in criminal dissent?”

 “Well let them take me. I’ll spend my dying days rotting in jail, but it had to be said.”

 “You’re a real trooper, Matilda. Thanks for phoning. Next call. Hugo you’re on the line. What do you think of the complaint against the Library Director?”

 “Mr. Colpitts. With all due respect—“said a young male voice. “You’re full of shit.”
 “You’re right. I’ll have to take a bathroom break during the next commercial.”

 “It’s not against the law to say abortion is murder, “insisted Hugo.

 “It’s not? But Gisela Gruber said…”

 “What’s against the law is to suggest that we should take away a woman’s right to choose. See, there is a difference…”

 “Ooooooh, there’s a difference, “Joe interrupted sarcastically. “ When the government decided that people no longer had the right to say that, weren’t they taking away a right?”

 “No. Because a woman has always had the right to choose.”

 “But people didn’t know that before.”

 “But now they know.”

 “What else do people not know? What other rights are being violated without our knowing?” Joe wondered aloud.

 “Well, we don’t know, but that’s the necessary price of being progressive. Social Harmony is the result, along with greater tolerance and freedom.”

 “How am I free if I don’t know whether what I’m doing is violating the law or not?”

 “You don’t. But that’s the price of being progressive and creating a better society.”

 Jack had had enough of that idiot and turned off the radio. His world wasn’t improved by some Human Rights complaint.

 When he pulled into the driveway of his brick house, his two sons Jeremy and Brian were playing with a soccer ball in the front yard. They had used small dollar-store cones as goal posts. They didn’t get to dribble the ball much, because any time the other one got control of the ball, the dispossessed brother would start rough-housing. When the younger Brian scored against the older Jeremy, Jeremy playfully protested “hey no fair!”, then he held Brian’s head in a headlock. Brian stumbled and as he fell, he tripped Jeremy. Jeremy got on top of Brian and started hitting him, but not very hard.

 Jack sighed. He loved his boys, but they were magnetically attracted to aggressive play. He was constantly breaking up their rough-housing.

 He opened the door and got out of the car. “Hey, boys, that’s enough wrestling.”

 “We’re not wrestling, we’re playing soccer, “Jeremy protested.

 “You don’t hit people in soccer, “Jack replied.

 “House rules,” Jeremy shot back.

 “Get off your brother, now, “Jack barked. “He’s your little brother. You shouldn’t be beating him up.”

 “I wasn’t beating him up. “

 “He was being a thug, “said Brian. 

 “Why you---!” Jeremy started to run after Brian to get back at him for his comments.

 “Hey! Hey! Hey! That’s enough! “Jack shouted. “Or else I’ll send you in time out.”
 They kept running.

 Jack shuffled into the house. He loved his boys, but he thought a little girl would have been nice. A pretty, sweet little girl who liked dolls and ribbons and didn’t want to hurt anybody. It made him feel a sugary sense of happiness when he thought of it.

 But it was too late for such wishes. Besides the fact that they were practically celibate, Barbara had had a tubal ligation. 

 He was happy with his boys, though; notwithstanding the fact they were constantly bickering and going at each other. 

Two was a nice number.