I should have started my web log much earlier, but for one, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted the web site to look like — and still am not sure — but finally took the plunge. And for another, I was afraid I would write things that would make people mad, incite criticism, draw attention to me and I wasn’t sure I was up for it.

But, deep breath, I have to write — and the web is it because for some reason, my spiral journal notebook is not doing it for me anymore. Must be a sign of the times.

Today I was reading Naomi Wolf’s New York magazine expose of Yale University’s brush-it-under-the-rug attitude on sexual assault by professors, The Silent Treatment.

On many points, Wolf’s reporting was an indictment of the University, particularly the account of a grad law student’s rape by her professor. There was an insinuation that he may have drugged her drink causing her to pass out after one glass of wine (the professor resigned for another tenured position elsewhere and Yale offered the victim $30,000, which she says she refused). Damning, as well, are the repeated descriptions of Wolf’s attempts to get someone, anyone, in the administration to even answer her phone call, or call back when they said they would, and basically, be accountable for the school’s policy. Over all, Yale has a lot of soul-searching to do and I support Wolf’s efforts, in general, to call Yale to take responsibility.

But the actual account of Wolf’s own sexual assault left me — well, laughing.

“The next thing I knew, his heavy, boneless hand was hot on my thigh.”

Hot on my thigh? Oh my! This is the stuff of gothic novels! I was expecting some bodice-ripping action and breathy whispers that caused ripples through the heroine’s veins. And I wasn’t disappointed!

“‘You have the aura of election upon you,” he breathed.’” (!!!)

Soon thereafter, though, it all ended with a thud. She vomited. He re-capped the bottle of sherry he had brought to dinner and left with it (!) and these parting words, “You are a deeply troubled girl.”

Oh Rhett, where are you when we need you?