The Responsible Retailing Forum (RRF) is to meet in Park City, Utah, to Address Preventing the Sale of Alcohol to Kids.
The press release starts of SALT LAKE CITY, April 12, 2011
The Responsible Retailing Forum (RRF), a leading organization in preventing underage sales of alcohol and tobacco, is holding its 9th Annual Responsible Retailing Forum (RRF) in Park City, Utah, from April 12-13, 2011. The meeting is being hosted by Utah's Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control and the theme of this year's conference is: "Leveraging Resources: Non-traditional approaches to achieving responsible retailing in a time of fiscal austerity."
"The meeting will be attended by members of the public and private sector, including alcohol regulators, state attorneys general, law enforcement and transportation, retailers and their associations, distributors, alcohol manufactures and other stakeholders representing 24 states."
I do not care who the Responsible Retailing Forum is, or what they think they are doing. Allowing their event to be hosted by Utah's Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control is rather like having King Herod host a Responsible Childcare Forum meeting.
What WHERE these people thinking?
Showing posts with label alcohol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alcohol. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Sunday, August 29, 2010
My former Bishop: How I proved him to be a liar
My former Mormon Bishop was a liar. I already knew he was a bit strange, somewhat creepy and a flake, but I found out he was a liar, too. This was, I think, one of the later points that helped signpost me away from Mormonism.
I went to a party held by someone who was a recent exmo. I was still a practising Mormon at that time. It would have been about 1980 or 1981. A young member of the ward was there, too. She was 16 and had obviously being drinking alcohol before she arrived at the party. She was quite drunk. I was in my very early 20s. I was concerned about the state she was already in.
So I decided to personally deal with her drink 'orders' at the party. She asked for a rum and Coke. She got a coke with a negligible amount of rum. She wanted a Martini and lemonade. She got a Lemonade and did I remember to put in some Martini? Who can possibly say?! Someone at the party (a nevermo) asked me why I was giving her so much booze? When I explained what I was doing, she thought it an excellent plan and gave it her blessing. She expressed concern that Mormon teenagers were not taught how to drink responsibly. To which I agreed. (Much to my then surprise...)
About a week later I was called into the office of Bishop Gold. (Not his real name, but close enough, for real life!) He barked out: “Give me one good reason why I should not put you before a church court?”
I thought: “Well, probably because I haven’t done anything wrong, you idiot.”
I looked at him and said, coldly, “Well, Bishop Gold. Why don’t you start by telling me what is on your mind?”
He gave me a cock-and-bull story about how he knew I had gotten a young girl deliberately drunk and that he was not only considering a church court, but also considering reporting me to the police for encouraging underage drinking.
He said: “And I know this is true, because a non-member friend of mine told me that he had been invited to that party and how it had become an orgy!”
I knew this was untrue and that he had probably been given a very distorted version of the events at the party by a rather strange and disturbed Mormon woman who had fried their brains with illegal drugs several years before she became a Mormon.
I suddenly felt very angry at Bishop Gold. Normally I was known for being a quiet and “unassuming” person. Whilst I am usually a fairly placid person who is slow to anger, when I do get angry I do get angry. It was all I could do to restrain myself from really telling Bishop Gold what I (and most of the Ward, as it happens!) really thought of him.
I looked him straight in the eye and said: “Bishop, what I would like to know is, first of all, why you have chosen to lie to me, today? I am not pleased that you asked me to come to a meeting with you, and that you threaten me with a church court and then you lie to me.”
He went bright red. I though: “Bingo! Got you!”
He blustered for several seconds. He then said. “I didn’t lie to you! I… Well…”
I continued: “You did not have a friend from work go to that party.” (I knew all the people who attended, so that was a dumb story to use and was a totally unnecessary invention on his part.)
“In fact, I would guess that Sister Singer (not her real name) told you about the party, didn’t she?” (I could see by the way his jaw dropped that I had scored a direct hit, even though it was only a guess.)
“Did you know that Sister Singer was not at the party? So she obviously passed on to you a juicy snippet of gossip that she embellished and added on to!
“An orgy was it? Well, actually, no. The hostess and her boyfriend kissed, but then, as it was her birthday party, no surprise there. By the way, Bishop Gold, what is the legal age for drinking at a private party in Britain?”
He looked much happier now. Here was an answer he knew! Or thought he knew. “It is 18!” he said, with a sneer on his face. His sneering expression said: “Yes. You think you are clever, don’t you? You spotted I was making it up, you realised who had given me the information but I have got you on this one!”
“You are wrong, Bishop Gold. The drink laws in Britain are complicated. In Britain it is generally the case that the age for drinking alcohol in Britain in licensed premises is 18. Incidentally, if a child of 14 or older is eating a meal with his or her parents they are legally allowed to drink alcohol with their meal, either wine or cider.
"However, as for the legal age for drinking at a private party or in a private home in Britain? You might be surprised to learn that there isn’t one. It is perfectly legal for children to drink alcohol at home or at a private party they are at in someone else's home. You and I might disagree with the law, but that it is the law as it stands.” He went pale.
I then explained how I realised that she had arrived at the party when already drunk (probably with booze from Sister Singer, I suspected, but I didn't voice my suspicions to Bishop Gold) and that that I had given her 'pop' with enough alcohol to give it a smell and taste, but not enough to have an effect on her.
I had won. And he knew it. There was no Church Court. Our relationship thereafter was strained to put it mildly.
But this set me thinking. He had been all for setting up a church court for me (Oh, yes. Bishop Gold liked his church courts) but he had decided to base this on nothing but the gossip of a mentally ill member (she was jealous of the woman hosting the party) his own fatally flawed understanding of the British licensing laws as they stood in the late 1970s and early 1980s and he had chosen to deliberately lie to me. Doubtless he would have seen his lie as a subterfuge to break me and get me to confess. But it was a lie, never-the-less.
Prior to that I had known Bishop Gold as a blowhard, a flake, a martinet and a pompous, creepy, arsehole. I now knew him also as being a dangerously flawed individual who saw nothing wrong in lying to get his own way.
Yes, that was one of the baby steps that lead me away from the Mormon church to the truth. And I never thanked Bishop Gold for his help in that regard!
(The original of this post was created in 2006. This is a slightly different, modified version)
I went to a party held by someone who was a recent exmo. I was still a practising Mormon at that time. It would have been about 1980 or 1981. A young member of the ward was there, too. She was 16 and had obviously being drinking alcohol before she arrived at the party. She was quite drunk. I was in my very early 20s. I was concerned about the state she was already in.
So I decided to personally deal with her drink 'orders' at the party. She asked for a rum and Coke. She got a coke with a negligible amount of rum. She wanted a Martini and lemonade. She got a Lemonade and did I remember to put in some Martini? Who can possibly say?! Someone at the party (a nevermo) asked me why I was giving her so much booze? When I explained what I was doing, she thought it an excellent plan and gave it her blessing. She expressed concern that Mormon teenagers were not taught how to drink responsibly. To which I agreed. (Much to my then surprise...)
About a week later I was called into the office of Bishop Gold. (Not his real name, but close enough, for real life!) He barked out: “Give me one good reason why I should not put you before a church court?”
I thought: “Well, probably because I haven’t done anything wrong, you idiot.”
I looked at him and said, coldly, “Well, Bishop Gold. Why don’t you start by telling me what is on your mind?”
He gave me a cock-and-bull story about how he knew I had gotten a young girl deliberately drunk and that he was not only considering a church court, but also considering reporting me to the police for encouraging underage drinking.
He said: “And I know this is true, because a non-member friend of mine told me that he had been invited to that party and how it had become an orgy!”
I knew this was untrue and that he had probably been given a very distorted version of the events at the party by a rather strange and disturbed Mormon woman who had fried their brains with illegal drugs several years before she became a Mormon.
I suddenly felt very angry at Bishop Gold. Normally I was known for being a quiet and “unassuming” person. Whilst I am usually a fairly placid person who is slow to anger, when I do get angry I do get angry. It was all I could do to restrain myself from really telling Bishop Gold what I (and most of the Ward, as it happens!) really thought of him.
I looked him straight in the eye and said: “Bishop, what I would like to know is, first of all, why you have chosen to lie to me, today? I am not pleased that you asked me to come to a meeting with you, and that you threaten me with a church court and then you lie to me.”
He went bright red. I though: “Bingo! Got you!”
He blustered for several seconds. He then said. “I didn’t lie to you! I… Well…”
I continued: “You did not have a friend from work go to that party.” (I knew all the people who attended, so that was a dumb story to use and was a totally unnecessary invention on his part.)
“In fact, I would guess that Sister Singer (not her real name) told you about the party, didn’t she?” (I could see by the way his jaw dropped that I had scored a direct hit, even though it was only a guess.)
“Did you know that Sister Singer was not at the party? So she obviously passed on to you a juicy snippet of gossip that she embellished and added on to!
“An orgy was it? Well, actually, no. The hostess and her boyfriend kissed, but then, as it was her birthday party, no surprise there. By the way, Bishop Gold, what is the legal age for drinking at a private party in Britain?”
He looked much happier now. Here was an answer he knew! Or thought he knew. “It is 18!” he said, with a sneer on his face. His sneering expression said: “Yes. You think you are clever, don’t you? You spotted I was making it up, you realised who had given me the information but I have got you on this one!”
“You are wrong, Bishop Gold. The drink laws in Britain are complicated. In Britain it is generally the case that the age for drinking alcohol in Britain in licensed premises is 18. Incidentally, if a child of 14 or older is eating a meal with his or her parents they are legally allowed to drink alcohol with their meal, either wine or cider.
"However, as for the legal age for drinking at a private party or in a private home in Britain? You might be surprised to learn that there isn’t one. It is perfectly legal for children to drink alcohol at home or at a private party they are at in someone else's home. You and I might disagree with the law, but that it is the law as it stands.” He went pale.
I then explained how I realised that she had arrived at the party when already drunk (probably with booze from Sister Singer, I suspected, but I didn't voice my suspicions to Bishop Gold) and that that I had given her 'pop' with enough alcohol to give it a smell and taste, but not enough to have an effect on her.
I had won. And he knew it. There was no Church Court. Our relationship thereafter was strained to put it mildly.
But this set me thinking. He had been all for setting up a church court for me (Oh, yes. Bishop Gold liked his church courts) but he had decided to base this on nothing but the gossip of a mentally ill member (she was jealous of the woman hosting the party) his own fatally flawed understanding of the British licensing laws as they stood in the late 1970s and early 1980s and he had chosen to deliberately lie to me. Doubtless he would have seen his lie as a subterfuge to break me and get me to confess. But it was a lie, never-the-less.
Prior to that I had known Bishop Gold as a blowhard, a flake, a martinet and a pompous, creepy, arsehole. I now knew him also as being a dangerously flawed individual who saw nothing wrong in lying to get his own way.
Yes, that was one of the baby steps that lead me away from the Mormon church to the truth. And I never thanked Bishop Gold for his help in that regard!
(The original of this post was created in 2006. This is a slightly different, modified version)
Sunday, June 03, 2007
My wife, myself, the barbecue and the racist abuse aimed at us
We had a fascinating day, yesterday. We had been invited to a barbecue with a couple we are or were, friendly with.
He arrived an hour after he said he would (he always does, so we were expecting him to be late) but for some reason she decided to start up on him. She really ripped in to him and whilst we were sat, shocked, in their back garden, they continued the argument indoors.
Within seconds it had degenerated into a nasty physical fight, with both of them trading blows. We were then subject to a quick bout of racist abuse from him (he is a Sikh and she is white) and he advised that he "did not want f**king neighbours interfering in his business," and advised us to "f**k off" and he went on to refer to us as "white f**kers". This was especially and deeply offensive to my wife as her family originated in India before moving to Wales, so his remark was well out of order.
So, not unnaturally, we left.
An hour later he was round at our house, apologising, and inviting us round for the bloody barbecue! But he was unaware that we had heard his racist abuse. Actually, his racist outburst at me was hurtful, but it was my wife I felt for mostly, as he is fully aware that my wife is very proud of her Indian heritage.
From the attitude of his wife and of himself afterwards (you know what I mean by that, I am sure) it became clear that the fight was nothing but a charade! It would seem that she starts a fight, hits him, then goads him into hitting her, then they make up by rutting like goats!
Now, if they have the kind of sick relationship that believes that domestic violence is a normal and healthy part of a sexual relationship, then all I can say is: "Sorry, kids! No can do!"
I firmly believe that if a couple want to bash seven bells out of each other as part of a "loving" (sic) relationship, then that is their concern. However, I deeply, deeply resent a pair of arseholes trying to drag us into their sordid little dirty fantasy world.
I also have issues with this kind of behaviour interfering with the way the police deal with genuine cases of spousal abuse. After all, if the neighbours had dialed 999 and asked for the police to come, they would have found a happy, smiling (though scratched and bruised) couple. The police would have gone away, irritated that their time had been wasted.
But the next time they attend a report of spousal abuse they might not react as diligently as they might, remembering what had happened the last time they had received such a call. And a real victim of spousal abuse could be lying on the kitchen floor, dead, with a carving knife sticking out of their back.
Our friends (well, former friends?) quite clearly need counselling to help them understand that their behaviour is not normal, not safe and certainly is not appropriate. However, as they both seem firmly convinced that their behaviour is normal, then all the counselling in the world will not help them, and counselling is not an option for either of them, I would have thought.
The woman in the relationship whined to us recently that they do not seem able to keep friends. She blames it on the fact that they have a mixed relationship and that he drinks a lot. After their disgusting display yesterday, we suddenly realised that, in all probability, we are just the last in a long line of friends to suddenly realise what a sick pair of sad deviants they are...
Anyone else have weird 'friends' that make you go: "huhhhh?"
He arrived an hour after he said he would (he always does, so we were expecting him to be late) but for some reason she decided to start up on him. She really ripped in to him and whilst we were sat, shocked, in their back garden, they continued the argument indoors.
Within seconds it had degenerated into a nasty physical fight, with both of them trading blows. We were then subject to a quick bout of racist abuse from him (he is a Sikh and she is white) and he advised that he "did not want f**king neighbours interfering in his business," and advised us to "f**k off" and he went on to refer to us as "white f**kers". This was especially and deeply offensive to my wife as her family originated in India before moving to Wales, so his remark was well out of order.
So, not unnaturally, we left.
An hour later he was round at our house, apologising, and inviting us round for the bloody barbecue! But he was unaware that we had heard his racist abuse. Actually, his racist outburst at me was hurtful, but it was my wife I felt for mostly, as he is fully aware that my wife is very proud of her Indian heritage.
From the attitude of his wife and of himself afterwards (you know what I mean by that, I am sure) it became clear that the fight was nothing but a charade! It would seem that she starts a fight, hits him, then goads him into hitting her, then they make up by rutting like goats!
Now, if they have the kind of sick relationship that believes that domestic violence is a normal and healthy part of a sexual relationship, then all I can say is: "Sorry, kids! No can do!"
I firmly believe that if a couple want to bash seven bells out of each other as part of a "loving" (sic) relationship, then that is their concern. However, I deeply, deeply resent a pair of arseholes trying to drag us into their sordid little dirty fantasy world.
I also have issues with this kind of behaviour interfering with the way the police deal with genuine cases of spousal abuse. After all, if the neighbours had dialed 999 and asked for the police to come, they would have found a happy, smiling (though scratched and bruised) couple. The police would have gone away, irritated that their time had been wasted.
But the next time they attend a report of spousal abuse they might not react as diligently as they might, remembering what had happened the last time they had received such a call. And a real victim of spousal abuse could be lying on the kitchen floor, dead, with a carving knife sticking out of their back.
Our friends (well, former friends?) quite clearly need counselling to help them understand that their behaviour is not normal, not safe and certainly is not appropriate. However, as they both seem firmly convinced that their behaviour is normal, then all the counselling in the world will not help them, and counselling is not an option for either of them, I would have thought.
The woman in the relationship whined to us recently that they do not seem able to keep friends. She blames it on the fact that they have a mixed relationship and that he drinks a lot. After their disgusting display yesterday, we suddenly realised that, in all probability, we are just the last in a long line of friends to suddenly realise what a sick pair of sad deviants they are...
Anyone else have weird 'friends' that make you go: "huhhhh?"
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