Tuesday, May 10, 2005


There was a time, when I was first moving to Washington, DC from Texas, that my uncle handed me a tiny shrill little whistle for my key chain. "This here's a rape whistle," he told me. "So if'n you ever wanna get raped..."

I thought this was all very funny.

But reading over some well-intentioned security guidelines for personal safety when traveling overseas, I see, "Do not use tear gas or a rape whistle, as they may be used against you."

The tear gas, I get. But if I'm in a situation such that the rape whistle is warranted, I can only imagine that having a whistle used against me, whatever that could possibly mean, will be the least of my worries.


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