There are moments in life, in some lives, in my life, when one becomes unmoored. Something or someone cuts the bond between anchor and ship, and the sailor is cast adrift. Perhaps a violent squall snaps the tether; perhaps a villain slashes it in the night; perhaps you sever it yourself in a drunken flourish of enthusiasm or at a tranquil moment of lucidity; perhaps you simply wake up one morning and find that you've drifted out to sea.

RapeLay is a Japanese video game that has been around since 2006. You can read about the details in an incredibly disturbing review at HonestGamers.com. Although the game has never been for sale in the United States, it's existence became news last month when an individual put a copy for sale on Amazon.com.  After receiving complaints, Amazon.com removed the game from it's Web site and eBay followed suit.

My mother has been suffering from Alzheimer's Disease for about 15 years, and for each of them, I could write for days about the horrors of insurance, or lack thereof, about doctors and nursing homes that forget that for every patient there is a story and that, for the family that story involves real and raw pain, and about my visceral reaction to losing my mother, over and over again, for almost my entire adult life. But the one thing that I couldn't write about was my memory of her. 

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