Danger is a Definite

In 2004, Matthew Francis O’Quinn was 28 years old. His girlfriend was 15. She was probably not his first girlfriend, but she was the first to come forward with accusations against him of violence and confinement. Whether she is the first woman she treated that way, we’ll never know.

He took her into the woods and kept her in a tent. He beat her daily. When she tried to leave he threatened her family. “If you ever leave me I will kill your mother, and I will kill your brother,” he told her, according to a CBC news article on her attempts to alert the public to the danger he poses.

Her terror lasted a full month. And at the end, after she escaped, saving herself from his brutality, O’Quinn was arrested and went to jail.

But then he got out. In 2008, he did it all over again. Another young girlfriend, another remote location, more beatings, more threats. Back to jail.

And he got out again. In 2010,  another young woman, the same thing. In between dragging his girlfriends into the woods and beating them he got by by breaking into cabins and stealing the owner’s possessions.

And once again, O’Quinn was sentenced to a short two years – because apparently that’s all you get for terrorising, beating, threatening and confining a teenage girl or woman.

And now he’s been found guilty of the same thing again.

Except this time, he brought a gun along and held it to his victim’s face. His threats too, became more specific: he would cut up her young daughter if she tried to escape.

O’Quinn started out with a streak of violence that would rival most organised criminals’. And it’s been getting worse. Not only does he not show remorse, but the moment he gets out of jail he plans his next attack. Our courts have done nothing so far but throw him in jail for a couple of years and then let him out for a few months until he strikes again, dragging him back to court and jail again.

And in the meanwhile at least four women have had their lives irrevocably altered. They were terrorised in ways most of us can only imagine: taken away from human contact, confined in a remote location, beaten, threatened, in fear not only for themselves but their loved ones.

That each of these women managed to escape before he killed them speaks only to their strength and fortitude and reflects nothing of his abilities.

For its rather obvious that O’Quinn could easily kill a woman. Or a young girl. He’s made the threats, he’s used branches and fists then graduated to guns.

The most unnerving thing, though, is the way he takes his victims into remote areas. He removes them from any human contact, making escape harder, but also making covering-up easier for him. He is well-versed in woods survival and knows how to disappear.

Is this the kind of man who should be free to walk our streets? Or crawl about in our woods?

When he gets out of jail this time, where will he take his next victim and what will he do to her? Will the threats become reality? And is murder that much worse than what he’s already done, leaving four women to deal with the aftermath of his campaigns of terror?

O’Quinn has been found guilty of the latest charges for confining, beating and threatening a woman and his sentencing will take place in January. In a recent article on his hearing, CBC reported that “The Crown says it may apply to have O'Quinn declared a dangerous offender.”

It “may” apply? Our provincial courts and our prosecutors aren’t quite sure if he’s a dangerous offender or not? I’m sure. I’m pretty certain that my readers are sure too. I know his previous victims could make you sure.

It doesn’t take a law degree or training in social work or psychology to know that O’Quinn should never be allowed near another woman. And the only way to guarantee that is to make sure he is termed a dangerous offender and is imprisoned indefinitely. It saddens me to say that I consider another human being incapable of redemption, but it is an obvious fact given his actions and behaviours.

For the sake of our daughters, our sisters, our nieces, it is imperative that this man be dealt with properly by the courts. If you agree, please contact ourMinister of Justice, Hon. Darin King, to express your desire to see that “may” turn into a definite “will.”

Christmas in Retail

It is on us once again: the Christmas shopping season. And it doesn't matter how anti-commerce hippy-dippy you are, you're going to wind up in a store at some point during this month of madness, even if it's just to get groceries.

Parking, line ups, sales with no merchandise, empty shelves, crowded aisles. How freaking frustrating. And there you are spending your last $50 to pick up that present for Aunt Agnes who you don't even like but still you have to get her something because she bleeding sends you some useless piece of shit every year. And it's such a farce and a rip off and by the time you get to the cashier, who is replacing her* register tape and refusing to look you in the eye while you tap your fingers impatiently....well, of course you're going to say something snippy to her.

But maybe you could stop. And think. It's always been my belief that everyone should work in retail at some point in their life, just so they learn not to be an utter asshole to cashiers and customer service people. I'm going to expand on that and say everyone should work in retail during the Christmas rush.

It's a VULVA... but it's not!

The Red Trench
Photo Courtesy: The Telegram

The first time I saw it I was still in highschool, visiting the campus to see some friends. I remember the thrill of the glass elevator and riding up to see the whole thing.

The Red Trench… I took the name seriously. Trenches, to me, spoke of war trenches. I decided it was a blood soaked trench of war and the white v-shaped crest at the top was a dove – the symbol of peace – with its head buried in the trench. Was it backing out of the trench, distancing itself but with an eye on the atrocities of the past? Or was it venturing in, attempting to cleanse it?

Neither, it turns out. Apparently I have a bit of an imagination when it comes to interpreting art. But not as much of an imagination as some.

“Do you know what it is?” a boy (I’d say man, but 15 years later, by all reports, he’s still not mature enough to be called that) asked with a snigger, in my first year at MUN. I was embarrassed. I didn't know what it was, really. Just my own interpretation. So I shook my head no.
“A vagina” he answered.
“No it’s not.”
“It is. Everyone  knows it.”

False Feminists in Politics

I still remember when Kim Campbell became the first female Prime Minister of Canada. As a young teenager looking for female role models and tiring of Thatcher and Mother Theresa as my sole sources (okay, perhaps I exaggerate), I was excited to see a feminist representative leading our country. Sure she got the job by default, but hey, we'll take it however we can get it. It was easy to get swept up in the fanfare of her victory.

Yet, despite Campbell's assertions otherwise, she was not really a feminist. Sure, she said she was, claimed she was raised to be one. However she made the distinction that "all feminists do not necessarily walk in ideological lockstep." (The Politics of Kim Campbell).

Really? Because feminism is a concept, an ideal, a philosophy and a way of life. Merely believing that women should have equal opportunity or equal rights does not make you a feminist. I know it's confusing because every woman out there who has a bit of brain in her will declare herself a feminist and put her own spin on it, but feminism is not about individual freedoms, nor is it about equality - not solely. How can it be? All people are not equal, so creating equality for women, well what does that look like? Will we be equal to the white, upper class, post-doc educated men? Or to the black, immigrant, non-English speaking men?

How to be Boring in Ten Easy Steps

So, here's the thing: there are a gabillion and one blogs out there and only about a million blog readers. *you can click those links for more accurate numbers Don't believe me? Check it:

How many blogs do you or have you run? Seems to me most bloggers have three, at least. One may no longer be updated but damn them if they'll take it down and free up some breathing room on the interwebs. How many non-bloggers read your blog? Your mother doesn't count. Heck, half the bloggers out there have their mothers blogging too!

My point? Yeah right, I'm supposed to have one. Well that's it right there: Blogs and their multifarious posts are actually supposed to have a point

Nobody reads your blog? Quelle suprise! Most bloggers have an audience made solely of bloggers themselves. Except for, you know, the really popular folk like my new BFF Jessica (don't believe me? Check this post. She calls herself a "devoted reader." Even my own mother isn't a devoted reader. Jessica? Will you adopt me?). So, bloggers subscribe to a tundrillion blogs they never read in the hopes that the people they subscribe to will subscribe back. It's kinda like Twitter y'all. But what that means is that there are blogs that look active and yet no one reads them. The comment zone is a gaping hole like that in Aunt Nelda's chompers.

Is It Really Necessary?

Is it really necessary:

When making a typo during your long-winded facebook comment to then make another comment correcting your mistake? We all know it was a typo - nobody thinks you really believe actually is spelt actuallt.

When tweeting your blog posts to apologise for possibly tweeting them too much? If you think it's too much than we definitely do.

When commenting on someone's blog post to go back and comment about your own comment and ways it could have been misconstrued? Unless someone's arguing with you than leave your word analysis for your own blog 'kay?