I just heard Morgan Freeman’s been accused of grossness by multiple women, and at this point I’m all like: yeah, THAT happened.
The more I learn about men, the more I like my cats.
Seriously, men of the free world: is this how you want women to see you? Another one turns out to be a creep and we’re simply numb?
Damon Young has this to say about the confirmation of Louis CK being a serial sexual abuser, and I encourage you to read it all, but I want to highlight this part:
It’s not even how his work—which has frequently, delicately, painfully and hilariously delved into the politics of sex, sexual acts and sexual deviance, and his own sexual anxieties, proclivities and angsts—has to be seen as either him attempting to grapple with his own real-life demons or a performatively progressive cover allowing him a space to conceal his real-life misdeeds (or some combination of both).
See, this is what the truth about Louis CK means to me: it means I can’t enjoy his comedy anymore. It means I have to question what it meant to enjoy his comedy in the past. It means I can’t enjoy another apparently-progressive male comic doing similar material.
It’s not just that I can’t tell who the bad ones are. The situation now is more that I can’t tell who the good ones are. I can’t trust anyone.