Sex & Romance

How Affirmative Consent Is Changing The American Landscape

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How Affirmative Consent Is Changing The American Landscape

“Don’t come around tonight, it’s bound to take your life. There’s a bad moon on the rise.” Creedence Clearwater Revival

A bad moon is rising over the American landscape. Government is demanding proof of ‘affirmative consent’ for consensual sex. Winks and nods no longer suffice. Men are being led away in chains and incarcerated.

It’s a disturbing portent. Government sleuths peek through the key holes of bedrooms, peer into back seats of cars and monitor movies for malefactors. The doctrine of ‘affirmative consent’ – the “yes means yes” rule – is strictly applied.

Positive consent is required for legal sex. The law is silent on what constitutes sufficient proof of consent. But like most statutes, agreements in writing can cover the backside of your naked exposure.

The ‘affirmative consent’ dragnet casts a wide arc. Imagine this scenario: A man and a woman share a bottle of pinot at a small table in the plaza of an outdoor restaurant. A violin plays. The rising yellow moon sets the tone. Romance hangs heavy in the summer air. Their conversation goes something like this:

     “The moon is exquisite,” he says.

     “Yes, lovely,” she replies.

     “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks. His grin sends its message.

     “Uh, I forgot to take the trash out,” she says. “What are you thinking?”

     “Guess,” he says, and softly touches her hand. Nothing more.

Her hand’s cold, passive and non-responsive. Yes? No? He’s confused.

They stroll home, say goodnight. No hug. No kiss. The end. But wait, not quite.

Six months later he’s arrested on a criminal complaint under Section 213.6 (3) (a), “Criminal Sexual Contact.” She alleges rape. Farfetched? Hardly. He failed to get ‘affirmative consent’ for his actions.

Silence no longer means “Yes.” A noose hides in the context of the word, “Guess.” It is a presumption of sexual intent. What? Yes, government now defines ‘intent’ since Justice Roberts opined such in the recent Obamacare re-write.

The poor chump not only pays for the wine, now he’s paying for the crime. He fails to get unequivocal consent. With one simple touch of the hand he’s guilty of rape. He’s now the newest member of the sex-offender registry. Like leprosy, he’s forced to live in isolation and wear GPS monitoring devices for the remainder of his life. Fondling fingers is risky foreplay.

Say it’s not so, man. Who concocted this cockamamie claptrap? None other but the legal think tank of the Amalgamated Law Institute, a co-ed fraternity of frustrated lawyers and judges. Sex is in the crosshairs.

But wait, for everything bad that’s done to us, something good is done for us. You ask, what possible good can come from such fetid compost as this preposterous law? Take a guess. Robots, that’s what. The age of Isaac Asimov has arrived.

The internet miracle has made virtual physical contact available. Pygmalion déjà vu. Pyg sculpts a seductively irresistible woman out of ivory. He kisses her lips. They’re warm. Hot with passion, he kisses them again. She becomes alive. On-line voyeurs can now do likewise.

It’s easy. With the so-called Kissinger system, stick an app on your Smartphone. Kiss the screen, and the movement of the lips is mirrored in another machine. The kiss will be given to whoever has their mouth against a corresponding machine. Instant gratification. No consent. No rape.

Even more bizarre is the elastomer silicone-material dream doll. It’s produced by Doll Dream Company. It’s highly useful for criminal avoidance and private manipulations. Available on-line at a cost of about $6,000, it comes complete with makeup kits and removable components of indecorous descriptions. They’re portable, passive and compliant. Advance written consent is not required. Imagine the possibilities!

Not interested? Then have your lawyer draft up an ‘affirmative consent’ document with multiple boxes to check, ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’ Things like, “May I look at you?” and, “Can you read my mind?”“Does it matter what I’m thinking?” The box of, “OK if I touch you?” should include,“Anywhere?” Get the idea? Be creative, entertain the jury.

Always attach copies of a passport, driver’s license, immunization history and proof of citizenship. Have it witnessed, notarized and recorded for extra credit. Don’t leave home without one. So much for another government entrapment scheme. Heed the sage advice: Agree with thine adversary quickly…and get it in writing. Be safe, not sorry.

Then let the wine, the music and the moon work their magic. That’s what they’re for.
Editor’s Note:  Visit Bud’s blog and enjoy his vast collection of musings at  He can also be reached by email:

Bud is a farm-boy, raised in a farming community is SW Georgia. Farm experiences continue to give him particular insights into life. He attended the University of Georgia, graduating with a BBA-Real Estate with a minor in English. He was a member of the Sigma Nu Fraternity. He moved to Atlanta in 1964 where for 50 years he has had a career in land and other real estate investments.

Bud moved to Sea Island, Georgia in 2004, where he now resides and where he continues in the real estate investment business.

His varied interests include long-distance running (and other athletic endeavors); travel; musical pursuits, including piano, violin and banjo; and writing. Writing has always been a passion. As Bud says, “Sometimes I feel like a short dog in tall grass when comparing my written thoughts to those in the literary Hall of Fame. But then, I remember that life is like a dog that buries bones in the sands on a one-way ticket to Mecca…vanity of vanities. So, I write, leaving some of my bones in the sands of time as I move on.” You can find more of his writings on his website,

He can be reached at

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