All hypothetical situations are not equal just because they are hypothetical situations. Just as my desire to fuck my buddies girlfriend is not as bad as the desire to rape my buddies girlfriend. ya dig?
I wrote a four word letter.
Well, since rape is non-consensual sex with another person, I am going to say if you hammer it into a corpse...it's rape. Unless of course you either find a way to talk to the dead or get a signed release from the person prior to death allowing for the post life activities to occur. Either way, it's kind of messed up. Interesting though.
But is a dead person a person? Do you have to get the consent of a grapefruit?
Well of course a dead person is a person. What the hell else would it be, a can of soup? It (they) still has certain legal rights etc. Go ahead and use a corpse as a pinata some time and let me know what happens.
Last edited by MOTO13; 05-08-2013 at 09:19 AM.
Well, I'll go out on a decaying limb here and say attempting intercourse with the dearly departed is most likely illegal in most civilized places, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it's rape. For one thing, there's not much point putting a corpse-molester on the sex offender registry. What do you do next? Force them to observe a minimum distance from graveyards and morgues?
Though if it's not rape that could lead to crafty would-be-rapists simply murdering their targets first. Sure, murder is probably a more serious offense, but it just doesn't have that same pesky stigma.
But some already do that, I think. No?
Ah, this is stirring memories... long, long ago, at some late hour in the evening, I turned on the television and was at once riveted. The action was taking place in some French château, the grand mansion of a rather foppy, wavy-haired blonde. This blue-eyed youth had nothing to do at night - or so it seemed - and had invited a young woman over. The supper he had prepared for the occasion was naturally sumptuous. The care he had put into lacing her drinks and plate was no less exquisite.
And so he wined and dined her... They exchanged smiles ans pleasantries, she blushed like a young virgin at his charm... She was obviously falling head over heels in love with him. Then she stood up, and felt strangely dizzy. Putting a dainty hand on the table, and the other to her forehead, she was his for the taking. As he saw it, he came to her, teeth gleaming white, scooped her up and carried her... to the cellar. The lights dimmed in the staircase, until finally we could only see their faces. Her hair caressed his neck gently. Her gentle breathing was the only sound in this gloomy, mildewed basement.
Then I had to take a piss, or drink some water, or answer a call... I forget what I did, but I was away from the screen at the crucial moment. I'll never forgive myself.
When I returned to my seat, the deed was done. Satisfied, sweating a little, he was leaning over her naked body. She was dead. One could tell from her pallor, and perhaps some rigidity. He was stroking her hair and whispering sweet words in her ears, alternately fixing his gaze on her eyes, on her lips, on the hollow between her breasts...
This is the last image of that (presumably French) film my memory has retained. I was never able to retrieve its title. To this day "serial killer" and "rapist" carries a special touch of blonde romance to me... Such is life.
Last edited by Duskygrin; 05-12-2013 at 06:20 PM.