A woman says she was disgusted to learn the details of her in-laws marital arrangement, wherein they are allowed to sleep with other people — but only those in ‘service-type minimum wage jobs’ because ‘they don’t count as real people.”‘
Zoeclare88, who appears to be American, shared the story on Reddit, writing that she learned the awkward details from her mother-in-law this week was so horrified that she told her off.
She said her mother-in-law revealed that she and her husband have an open marriage, but that only applies to sleeping with bartenders or maids because they’re not ‘equal.’
Yikes… A woman says her in-laws are allowed to sleep with other people — but only those in ‘service-type minimum wage jobs’ because ‘they don’t count as real people”‘ (stock image)
Zoeclare88, who is living with her in-laws at the moment, insisted that their open marriage in and of itself doesn’t bother her, and she had actually guessed what their situation was long before her mother-in-law spilled the beans.
‘I’ve always suspected they had an open marriage because of some off color jokes but I didn’t really care or want to know,’ she wrote in a post that has since been deleted by Reddit moderators.
But on Saturday, they were celebrating her father-in-law’s birthday with some friends over, and Zoeclare88 went to help her mother-in-law in the kitchen.
‘MIL was talking to her best friend about their marriage and the friend asked if she can f*** anyone she wants,’ she said.
‘MIL explained that they have some rules and they can’t sleep with anyone who is an “equal.”
‘She said they only go outside the marriage with people in service-type minimum wage jobs like their maid, someone who works at their country club, or a bartender (examples she gave) she said they do that because people in those positions don’t count as “real people” so there is no danger in developing feelings.’
Upset: The Reddit user shared the information in a post that has since been deleted, revealing that she told her mother-in-law she thinks the arrangement is ‘disgusting’
Zoeclare88 said that she ‘couldn’t bite her tongue’ after hearing her mother-in-law talk that way, calling her ‘disgusting’ and lecturing that ‘those fake people have more grit, work ethic, and character than she could ever have and I’m glad I wasn’t born in a Victorian novel like she apparently was.’
Her mother-in-law is now upset, calling Zoeclare88 disrespectful and ‘close-minded.’
Redditors have also slammed the in-laws, calling them ‘rude,’ ‘bigoted,’ and ‘elitist and gross.’
‘The fact that they intentionally only seek out people in certain wage jobs also insinuates they want there to be a power imbalance in the encounter, which is further supported by them saying people in low wage jobs aren’t “real people,”‘ wrote one.
‘I didn’t like when this happened to Johnny Castle in Dirty Dancing and I don’t like it now,’ wrote another.
‘I’m gonna assume they don’t tell these “lesser people” how they think about them before they f*** them. Otherwise they’d probably have a lot less dirty peasant sex with the proletariat,’ wrote a third.
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War veteran charged with stealing from border wall campaign says claims are ‘politically motivated’
The triple amputee Iraq veteran accused of stealing from the We Build The Wall campaign along with Steve Bannon and two others, has claimed the charges leveled against him are part of a ‘politically motivated’ scheme targeting Trump associates.
Brian Kolfage, 38, is charged with stealing $350,000 from the multimillion-dollar GoFundMe account he set up in support of President Trump‘s wall initiative in 2018.
Federal prosecutors last month alleged the Purple Heart had siphoned some of the money to fund his and his wife’s lavish lifestyle and had spent it on boats, an SUV, plastic surgery, jewelry, home renovations and credit card debt.
Kolfage on Saturday spoke out against the indictment in his first interview since his arrest, accusing federal prosecutors in Manhattan of fabricating the allegations as part of a political witch hunt.
Brian Kolfage, 38, and his wife Ashley, 33, are accused of being the main beneficiaries of the fraudulent scheme, according to prosecutors. The pair live in Miramar Beach on Florida’s panhandle. They are pictured on their boat
The triple amputee Iraq veteran (pictured in New Mexico last year) has been charged with stealing $350,000 from the multimillion-dollar GoFundMe account he set up in support of President Trump’s wall initiative in 2018
Kolfage launched the private wall effort in December 2018. He took it off GoFundMe recently because, he claimed, the company was not allowing him to fundraise for victims of assaults by BLM protesters
‘They made it up. It’s so blatantly false. If they can do this to us they can do it to anybody,’ he told the New York Post by phone.
‘Everyone knows that the Southern District is really the sovereign district. They do their own things. They went after Rudy Giuliani. They do what they want to do and it’s politically motivated.’
Kolfage’s comments appeared to echo those of alleged accomplice Steve Bannon, who last month blasted his prosecution as a ‘political hit job’.
The former Trump advisor claimed the allegations were an attempt ‘to stop and intimidate people that want to talk about the wall.’
The GoFundMe initiative had raised $27million after it was backed by Republican donors in support of the border wall.
Prosecutors however, say Kolfage, Bannon, Timothy Shea and Andrew Badolato allegedly used shell companies and a not-for-profit formed by Bannon to launder the money back to Kolfage and keep some for themselves.
Bannon and Kolfage are pictured in a video on the We Build The Wall website
Former Trump advisor Steve Bannon leaves U.S. District Court – Southern District of New York located at 500 Pearl Street in New York City after he was arraigned for alleged scheme to defraud the non-profit on August 20, 2020. Three other men, Brian Kolfage, Andrew Badolato and Timothy Shea, were also arrested in this alleged scheme to defraud the non-profit, which authorities said raised more than $25 million
Bannon was arrested and later released after putting up $5million bail, secured by $1.75million in assets.
In his interview with the Post, Kolfage also denied that his wife Ashley had received money from the scheme and claimed he is able to support his ‘good middle class family’ from the payouts he receives from the Department of Veteran Affairs.
‘I’m not living a lavish life by any freaking means,’ he said. ‘Thank God I have a house that was given to me by the Gary Sinise Foundation.’
Kolfage with former President George Bush. He lost an arm and both his legs in 2004 in Iraq. After returning from the war, Kolfage married Ashley – a former Chilli’s waitress. They lived quietly until Trump’s political victory, when they then became vocal supporters. The pair are shown with Eric Trump (right) last February
Prior to the scandal, Kolfage had been hailed as a decorated war hero after he was nearly killed and lost an arm and both his legs in a rocket attack in Iraq on September 11, 2004.
Initially, Kolfage was celebrated by members of both parties.
In March, he told Reuters he had begun accepting $10,000 a month in salary from the wall organization, saying the amount was modest compared to salaries paid by other nonprofits of that size.
Actually, according to the indictment, he had received a one-time payment of $100,000 as early as February 2019, plus $20,000 a month routed through a Bannon nonprofit and corporations that were supposedly working on the wall project.
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BEN BRADLEY: Why I refuse to take part in ‘re-education’ that tells ordinary people they are racists
Ben Bradley (above), Conservative MP for Mansfield, has made it clear he will not be taking part in any ‘Unconscious Bias’ training
Imagine being called in to the boss’s office tomorrow morning, a bit nervous and unsure what it is you’ve done wrong, and being told you’ve been reported by a colleague.
You’ve been caught saying that you disagree with the idea that Black Lives Matter is helping to deal with racism, that in fact you don’t believe Britain is a racist country. And now you’re to be ‘re-educated’. You’re going on a course…
It sounds like something from Orwell’s 1984, yet hundreds of thousands if not millions of people in workplaces around the UK have been ordered to attend special training sessions of this sort.
Many push a ‘Critical Race Theory’ ideology that suggests that – whether you know it or not – your views are tightly defined by your age, gender and skin colour. And these courses are run by ‘educators’ who want you to recognise and ‘check’ your privilege, and to understand just how little you really know.
Now imagine your company is paying £1.4 million for this training. In fact, you work in the public sector, so it’s £1.4 million of taxpayers’ cash.
In the coming months all of us as Members of Parliament will be asked to undertake this Unconscious Bias training, which is the second phase of our re-education following a summer of ‘Valuing Everybody’ lessons ordered by the parliamentary authorities.
The Mail on Sunday revealed a few weeks ago that the company that has been recruited to run these Unconscious Bias lessons uses a blue puppet called ‘UB’, who looks like the Cookie Monster (file image, above), in their training sessions, which makes me think of it as some kind of primary school assembly
The first part – which I did attend – turned out to be a £750,000, two-hour journey around the benefits of not being horrible to your staff. Personally, I think I’m quite nice to my team in the office.
I’m also sure that if I wasn’t, those two hours would not have made the blindest bit of difference.
I’m fortunate, I suppose, that due to Covid-19 the session was held via Zoom rather than having to decamp to an office somewhere, though I don’t suppose that the reduced workload has reduced the cost at all! It was still a very expensive chat.
The Mail on Sunday revealed a few weeks ago that the company that has been recruited to run these lessons uses a blue puppet called ‘UB’, who looks like the Cookie Monster, in their training sessions, which makes me think of it as some kind of primary school assembly.
The puppet, whose name stands for Unconscious Bias, ‘helps’ to explain to the class how words like ‘lady’ and ‘pensioner’ should be avoided in case they cause offence. Now this company has been given another £7,000 seedcorn money to help plan the delivery of sessions for MPs and parliamentary staff.
I hope they can agree that at least the primary school puppet will not be necessary!
Did every single Premier League footballer really support Black Lives Matter, an organisation that campaigns to defund the police and smash capitalism? To my knowledge, every single one of them ‘took the knee’
I spoke out last week and made clear that I won’t be taking this training. It seems totally nonsensical to me that, in my role as a representative of a community that has typically felt left behind and voiceless for many years, I should be advised that there are certain words I shouldn’t use; certain issues that I should avoid; certain sensibilities that I should not offend.
How am I to raise the true feelings of an electorate that broadly feels like it’s being preached at by a metropolitan elite who neither understand nor care about them, if I have to walk on eggshells and dance around the problem?
In an environment where Leave voters have been labelled thick and racist for holding a view on uncontrolled mass immigration, despite proving many times that they are a majority in this country, which institutions or trainers down here in Westminster are qualified to tell me which views on the subject might be right or wrong?
Who has the right to say that those views are a result of ‘unconscious biases’, of white privilege, or of lack of understanding? The answer is nobody. There is no science to back this up, and nobody has that right. We live in a free country, with free speech and freedom of expression. We used to also have a robust and resilient approach to an argument that didn’t involve silencing everyone you disagree with.
Yet, here I am in 21st Century Britain reading a document from Challenge Consultancy, the company tasked with putting this training programme together. They offer to ‘work with the Cultural Transformation Team’ to deliver ‘Cultural Competency’ training – yes we are culturally incompetent now. I’m intrigued by the offer to help me to use ‘appropriate terminology’ and to ‘demonstrate ally behaviour’.
Given that this will be delivered in the same format as the first phase of this patronising rubbish, I think it’s reasonable to assume that this will similarly be costing more than half a million quid from the public purse.
Despite what these trainers may say, we are not defined by our physical characteristics. We do not have one homogenous view because of the colour of our skin. It’s nonsense. Our views are formed by countless different factors; from our lived experiences, our backgrounds and from the communities we grew up in, but we are individuals. We are not defined by others. We are free to define ourselves.
Time after time the documents explain that ‘the BAME community thinks x’ and ‘the BAME community is calling for y’, as if the entire black and minority ethnic community speaks with one voice on this, or on any issue. It strikes me as presumptuous and arrogant.
Who is qualified to police our language, or to say which views are right and wrong? Who polices those police, and makes sure that they aren’t pushing unconscious biases of their own? What is being done to ensure that the people who choose careers in delivering Unconscious Bias Training don’t choose that profession because they actually have their own agenda to push?
It was pointed out to me last week that, as an MP, I am in a fortunate position. Only my constituents can remove me from office.
The House of Commons can’t do a great deal to punish me if I don’t take the course. Yet outside Westminster, the reality is that most employees have no such independence and no power to refuse.
No wonder so many ordinary people are scared to voice dissent.
Did every single Premier League footballer really support Black Lives Matter, an organisation that campaigns to defund the police and smash capitalism? To my knowledge, every single one of them ‘took the knee’.
What would have been the consequences for the one who said no? I can’t imagine it would have been career enhancing. Societal pressure forces us to go along with things we disagree with, and that is not right or healthy for anyone.
With that in mind, I feel people like me have a responsibility to say something, and to do something.
I know that my concern is shared by millions of people around the UK from a variety of backgrounds – but particularly among constituents like mine who, for the most part, have not shared in the wealth generated by the booming economy in the South East.
I think Brexit is a symptom of this same divide too, and of the ‘left behind’ people and places who feel like they are being looked down upon by a detached metropolitan elite determined to police the way they think and talk. There is yawning chasm between our institutions and millions of the people that they are meant to work for.
Since I raised this, earlier last week, I’ve lost count of the number of colleagues who have offered their support – and have also promised to say no to the training. I’ve been stopped by Commons staff too who thanked me for speaking out against this ‘total nonsense’.
It’s sparked more interest than I could have predicted, and for that I am grateful.
Once again I call on colleagues in the privileged position of being able to speak out and to take a stand against this Leftist infiltration of our institutions, to do exactly that and put a stop to forced ‘re-education’ once and for all.
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ALEXANDRA SHULMAN: How a brazen fox wrecked my holiday… and my skin
I should have been basking in the soft September sun of the Adriatic last week but I wasn’t. Instead I was tearing my skin off at home in West London because of a close encounter with a fox.
It was a sunny afternoon so the garden doors were wide open, and when I saw the upturned composting caddy (demanded by our council), I assumed it was a local cat and thought little of it.
Coronavirus has turned the long-established feline territorial balance of power on its head and over the past months new cats have invaded our garden, previously lorded over by our cat Coco and her next-door neighbour Pumpkin. Coco is far too fastidious to rummage round anyone’s leftovers.
An hour later, I opened the door of the sitting room intending, somewhat guiltily in the middle of the afternoon, to sneak in a quick fix of Fauda, the Israeli drama that’s my current TV go-to, and discovered, curled up on the sofa where I usually sit, a bony fox.
I should have been basking in the soft September sun of the Adriatic last week but I wasn’t. Instead I was tearing my skin off at home in West London because of a close encounter with a fox, writes Alexandra Shulman (pictured)
As cosy as you like, as if it too were settling down for a Netflix box set.
Despite my shriek, it showed no inclination to move and was only shooed out with some difficulty by David, my boyfriend, dragged away from his computer to help deal with the situation.
Even after it finally vacated the sofa, it didn’t want to leave and wandered around the room on spindly legs while David tussled with window locks to open up a space large enough for it to slip out.
And here’s the dumb thing. Instead of getting out the vacuum cleaner and disinfectant and shoving the sofa covers in the washing machine, I sat down exactly where the fox had been, ignoring the few tufts of its hair, to watch my programme.
When the itching began on my bottom all of four minutes later, I put it down to my catastrophising nature.
I opened the door of the sitting room intending, somewhat guiltily in the middle of the afternoon, to sneak in a quick fix of Fauda, the Israeli drama that’s my current TV go-to, and discovered, curled up on the sofa where I usually sit, a bony fox. (File image)
I sat down exactly where the fox had been, ignoring the few tufts of its hair, to watch my programme. When the itching began on my bottom all of four minutes later, I put it down to my catastrophising nature. By the time I got to see my GP and said I was planning to go to Croatia (file image) the next day, we agreed it was probably best to postpone it for 48 hours
What nonsense, I thought. Of course you can’t be catching something this quickly from a bug or flea or heavens knows what on the sofa. You’re wearing thick cotton trousers. Do stop imagining problems.
The itching grew more persistent, but not unbearable, and after two episodes of Fauda, watching the Palestinians and Israelis blow each other up, I gave the sofa a quick clean and left the room. I could see nothing on my skin but it certainly didn’t feel right.
By the next morning I was convinced I had an allergic reaction to the fox hair. The usual arsenal of anti-histamines I keep to deal with insect bites were not doing anything. I started to Google to find where I might get a cortisone shot that in my self-diagnosis I felt might help.
But it was Saturday. Everywhere, including GP surgeries, was closed. Desperate for advice, I headed to our local A&E, which I discovered had been shut since April, so rushed to the next nearest at St Mary’s in Paddington, which was gratifyingly empty.
Since most people are avoiding inessential hospital visits, I was treated almost instantly and sent home with steroid tablets. The nurse didn’t seem particularly interested in the story about the fox.
Over the next two days, the rash darkened into a deep purple and started to spread. Small hives began popping up on my torso, arms, back and legs and the original seat (literally) of the problem, but looked like nothing I had ever seen before. Maybe the bubonic plague.
Sasha shows she is such a wily Wag
Sasha Swire’s hugely entertaining diaries of a Westminster Wag have made a mockery of everyone she came across. Cannily, she waited to publish Diary Of An MP’s Wife until her husband Hugo had got his knighthood in David Cameron’s resignation honours. I wonder what their close friend Dave – the target of many of the book’s most unflattering passages – thinks about that now?
London Fashion Week is currently taking place, though you wouldn’t know it. Like all live events, it has gone undercover: no big catwalk shows and parties. I’m not missing attending them myself – after 25 years at Vogue, I’ve had my fill – but I do miss looking at the glamorous goings-on, which would offer a much-needed antidote to the endless dire stories about the pandemic.
Can we still have Indian summers?
I would describe these wonderful September days as an Indian summer. But is that term now thought of as cultural appropriation, either as commonly assumed, coming from the bad old colonial days of the Raj, or, as I’ve discovered more likely, from the ousting of Native American Indians from their homes on the East Coast? Does anyone know?
By the time I got to see my GP two days later (loyally, as my doctor of 40 years, he squeezed me into a crammed diary), I was deeply unhappy. I hadn’t slept for four nights – I was tearing my skin off.
Maybe I was imagining this but it felt as if my stomach was swelling up, and my face had gone puffy.
I told the GP I was planning to go to Croatia the next day and we agreed it was probably best to postpone it for 48 hours.
He thought it might be animal urine that had caused the problem and sent me off with more pills – and the observation that my infected skin should be featured in a text book.
The next day, as things worsened, he was clearly even more concerned and fixed me up with a dermatologist for a second opinion.
Walking into the specialist’s office was like I imagine it would feel seeing land after a shipwreck. A port in the storm. Safety. Somebody who would know what was going on. He peered for some time and said the rash was not one he’d ever seen before and prescribed antibiotics.
On the way home, I talked to my ex-husband about my affliction and he said it sounded like scabies and did I have anything on my fingers? I snapped that my fingers were one of the few parts of my body unaffected and that nobody had mentioned scabies.
A week later and the second visit to the dermatologist proved my ex right. Finally I know I have been inhabited by sarcoptes scabiei canus – parasitic itch mites that burrow into the skin and cause scabies.
I even have some of some pictures of the blighters. Nasty, fat, leggy little things. Fox scabies, for heaven’s sake!
Not usually transferred to humans and fortunately less contagious than the human version.
There have been foxes running around our street for years. Urban foxes are a plague in the city, particularly if, like us, you live near railway lines.
They howl like tortured babies in the dark of the night and leave torn-up rubbish bags strewn across the pavement. They stroll around nonchalantly, unperturbed by humans or cars.
Earlier in the summer we saw one snoozing happily in the ivy on the garden wall. Until now I had thought them unpleasant, although relatively harmless. But I know people who think they are part of a precious eco-system – and even feed them from time to time, like pets. These people are clearly insane.
And if you Google fox scabies, the first things to come up are websites urging us to care for foxes with mange (another name for it) as if they were poorly toddlers.
I talked to my ex-husband about my affliction and he said it sounded like scabies and did I have anything on my fingers? I snapped that my fingers were one of the few parts of my body unaffected and that nobody had mentioned scabies (file image). A week later and the second visit to the dermatologist proved my ex right
A neighbour who found one collapsed on a pile of rubbish bags outside the house called the RSPCA to ask for advice about what to do.
Their officers arrived immediately, cradled the sick fox in their arms to remove it and said she should cherish them as they kept the rats at bay.
I will be doing no such thing. Now, nearly two weeks on, my skin is still covered in prickly hives and I’m still counting the cost of my vulpine encounter. I have slept drenched in lice cream.
I am now hugely familiar with 3am talk radio hosts. Everything I have worn or touched has had to be washed or dry-cleaned and the house has been steam-cleaned. The holiday cancelled.
I dread a fox coming near me again. There are so many in this neighbourhood that fox exterminators aren’t really an answer, and as for taking matters into my own hands, the idea of a poisoned fox among the dahlias is too horrible.
The other day somebody told us that male urine is a fox deterrent and that David should regularly pee in the garden to keep them at bay.
It might be worth giving a go. Frankly, anything is.
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