Legislators Mull National "Do Not Rape" List

.S. lawmakers, called on to help clear the murky waters of consent in sexual situations between adults, responded today with a plan to create the national “Do Not Rape� registry, a centralized list of American women who are officially not asking for it.

Inspired by the sensationalized rape charges brought against NBA superstar Kobe Bryant by an unnamed Colorado woman, the registry would provide a way for U.S. women to proactively opt-out of unwanted sexual encounters with any of the growing legion of clueless sexual predators populating America’s bars and dark alleys.

The proposed list would mirror the recently created “Do Not Call� registry and the impending “Do Not Spam� list, and would mandate that all men intending to have rough sex with strangers would be required to check the list of names every three months or risk up to a $1,500 fine, jail time, or neither.

“If a woman says no, but only fights you off half-heartedly, that’s the most encouragement many of these guys will ever receive,� explained defense attorney Richard Spackle. “It can be very confusing.�

“Like what if she’s saying ‘No, no, no!’ but the guy’s Hawaiian or something and his name is Nono? That could happen. You gonna send Nono to jail just because he thought she was cheering him on? That’s discrimination, plain and simple.�

Legal experts and sports fans applaud the proposal, hailing the list as a step forward into an enlightened new age when the public will no longer have to guess which of the two people involved in a rape trial is the total piece of shit.

“This legislation could bring relief to many who desperately need it,� commented legal expert and student taxidermist Rutherford Wank. “Women who speak up with allegations of rape will be spared the muckraking and character assassination all too common in the modern rape trial. And even more importantly, American males will be free to fuck crazy bitches again.�

Other proposed lists reportedly being discussed in Washington include a national “Do Not Kick My Dog� registry, a “Do Not Masturbate to My Image� registry, and the controversial “Do Not Exploit My Unskilled Labor� registry, which has already drawn harsh criticism from several U.S. corporations. As of press time, no exploitive, dog-kicking masturbators could be reached for comment.

nswering lawsuits filed by the ACLU and American Arab groups, the Justice Department touted the U.S.A. Patriot Act as the most effective tool against non-whites the government has ever had, at least since the outlaw of Jim Crow laws. The Patriot Act, named so in a misguided attempt to gain public sympathy through outlandish propaganda terms, was passed in the wake of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and allows the government easier access to wiretaps, monitors of suspicious individuals, and anything they damn well think is important.

Groups challenging the Patriot Act claim it gives the government too much unquestioned access to the privacy of Americans without the need to substantiate charges. Defenders of the group were too busy accessing the purchase records, credit reports, and group affiliations of the challengers to bother responding.

"Helping the government fight terrorism is one thing, the tactics endorsed by the Patriot Act are entirely another," said ACLU attorney Kim Wilde. "Let's suppose I'm a terrorist, living on American soil and taking flight lessons vital to my group's jihad. I buy one paperback of The Catcher in the Rye and all of a sudden the FBI is jumping all up my ass thinking I'm going to try to kill a Beatle or something. It's entirely without reason."

Arabic groups likewise expressed dismay.

"It's outrageous, even more than outrageous," insisted Arabic Anti-Defamation League spokesperson Bindari Al-Abib. "The Asians have had All-American Girl and The Joy Luck Club. The Indians have Bend it Like Beckham now. When will Arabs at last get their own sitcom? Just hear me out now. My idea is a single dad, a radiologist, named Amir. He works in a hospital, but a really funny hospital, and has an Arabic love interest who is also a radiologist. He's also a single dad, with two wise-cracking kids."

Opponents of the sitcom say the workplace and family comedy is long dead, and a hospital is a depressing place for people to work. While defenders of the Patriot Act express the necessity for the government to be given leeway in times of difficulty.

"Let's get something straight," said Justice Department spokesperson James Gattlebritch, "the government is wise and trustworthy enough to be trusted with access to anything they want. What do you think, the U.S. government is going to waste time checking out Amazon.com records to see you bought Kangaroo Jack? As if! Get over yourself, folks. We're only looking for the people who are terrorist, and have known affiliation with terrorist groups. Or look shady. Just, you know, shady. You know the kind of people."

The ambiguity of language leads many skeptics to believe the Justice Department is engaging in illegal racial profiling. An allegation some are comfortable with.

One proponent of racial profiling is author and conservative advocate Rash Tinker. "Facts are facts. It makes no sense to pull white people out of line at the airline checkpoints and search them for terrorist weapons. It's just common sense. When have white people ever been terrorists? Outside of the IRA and a few European nationalist groups, never. We know the Arabs are responsible for the biggest terrorist act since the Oklahoma City bombing. I don't see the problem with just searching Arabs."

Let there be no mistake: I love my new wife, Felchyana, but she's starting to get on my nerves. Being a veteran of two marriages and three wars you'd think I might be familiar with this growing feeling of spite I'm experiencing, but it's not the case. She must be one of these "modern women" I keep seeing represented on sitcoms and the like. I can't say I approve, good people.

I finally got the chance to take us away on a honeymoon. You may recall the expense of the wedding and bail for bachelor party attendees left me a little strapped for cash. Tied down screaming to a medieval wooden rack, actually. But fate intervened, and after correctly guessing the number of jellybeans in the jar at Red Bagel's annual commune picnic I achieved a great windfall. It was apparently the loudest windfall ever since I won some sort of contest three states away, and the prize money was enough to take my blushing new bride off on an extravagant honeymoon.

You would think that enough for any woman, right? Wrong! Not for Felchyana. We had a quarrel over where to go on our honeymoon, the first argument we've ever had. If you discount all her attempts to get out of the wedding. I wanted us to see beautiful Niagra Falls, even though I don't approve of the racial epithet in their name. Felchyana wanted us to visit Leavenworth Penitentiary, judging by her frantic pointing to the picture in the paper. Well, you can see this is an almost insurmountable difference of opinion, but we decided to compromise. I locked her up inside the apartment and went to Alabama.

It was quite a wonderful tour through primitive culture, good people. After hearing our beloved Editor describe it with such vivid detail I was anxious to see what it was like and see all the great tourist spots—the world's smallest library, the place Red Bagel slept, so on.

Imagine my surprise to return home and see it had been taken over by the Russian mob! Well, okay, it wasn't that big a surprise. But it was quite a shock to see Felchyana apparently involved in some manner. There were four or five large men surrounding her, the shortest of which said his name was Yogi and persistently called me "dude." He instructed me that he was Felchyana's cousin and would be taking care of her while she was in the states. He said he was happy I had married into the family seeing as I was such a man of means—I would say the throw pillows worked in making the apartment look a lot more upscale. He also warned me that if I hurt her in any way he would break my legs into splinters, if he could find them. He found that addition particularly funny.

So, like the hired hand who agreed to clean up the rhinoceros cage, I'm in much deeper than I ever imagined. Felchyana has been strutting around the apartment like she owns the place lately, ever since those mob fellows gave me their friendly warning. She even cries less than she did after we were just married. Chalk it up to falling into routine, maybe she's even happier with things this way, but it feels like the spark is gone.

Not that I'm giving up. You know me, good people, I'm in it for the long haul—thirty years or death, whatever comes first. And there's a certain amount of truth in that old wives' tale about people being different from each other. Felchyana is no Arvelyn, that's for sure, but obviously I wasn't happy with Arvelyn's attempts to kill me and backstabbing bed-jumping. So maybe everything will work out for the best. It will require a little bit of change on my part, like not locking my wife in our home when I leave at any time, but if other people can learn to do it, so can I.

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