So Kevin Spacey’s “gay”? I’m not. So what? I like his movies. I’ll still watch them, plus whatever else he comes up with. Weinstein is far more creepy, but he made some damned good movies, too, and I will continue to watch them as well.
Most artists have some weird antennae. Trust me, I dated a red-headed Ayn Rand-freak oil-painter and am worse for the suffering but wiser for the experience. (A friend warned me at the time: “Red-heads are defective units. Run.”)
What bothers moi is that the accusers are coming out (pardon the pun) 30 years after their alleged lurid encounters and ensuing successful careers.
At which point do you side-line your personal integrity to further your professional life, then whine about it three decades later when it becomes fashionable? Or is doing so just another step closer to greater stardom? Where were you, at the time it happened, ethically? Prolly just about as sleazy as the man or woman who groped you.
Did you say “No” then be a part of it anyway, because you abandoned your conscience to advance a career? I’m sorry, Victims, but you sold your soul right then and there.
None of us, man nor woman, gay nor straight, is blameless. We’ve all copped a feel or brushed a kiss at some point in life, especially during our horny teens and twenties.
If we were even gently rebuffed, however, that was the time to back away. Consent had its own consequences, hopefully pleasurable. I don’t think it takes an IQ much above 75 to tell the difference between consent and rejection.
If you can reject your own conscience, the compromise is on your karma.
The only happy note I take from all this is that most of the perverts appear to be Democrats. Maybe the Victims should change panties. Oh, I mean, partiesShare on Facebook