I can’t keep track of all the perverts without a scorecard, can you? The Sun should print one up. That’d make a swell addition to Page 3.
Ever since Adolphe Menjou became a star for God only knows what reason I figured somethin’ was fishy in Hollyweird. Like the kids say, you don’t have to be a weatherman to know whose tuna polisher ya gotta blow.
Thing is, I’m afraid all these A-list a-holes are gonna give everyday, hardworkin’ deviants a bad name. So I worry that maybe we’re takin’ this whole accusation business too far. What is this, a witch hunt? Because if I know one thing about history, pal, it’s that witches were girls!
Now don’t get me wrong, or I’ll slug ya. I’m all for lockin’ up Harv’ Weinstein in a chastity belt and throwin’ away the key. I just think we oughta stop an’ ask ourselves a question: Do we like movies? Cuz if we keep this up, before too long there won’t be anybody left to make new ones.
And how many more times do you wanna watch The Guns Of Navarone? I bet no more than five. So let’s get a grip, shall we?
Take this Louis CK fella. I don’t think he’s funny and I don’t trust anybody with a made-up name, but that’s beside the point. Which is, is this really the world we want, where no degenerate is safe?
I know consent is important, especially these days when not gettin’ it can land ya in some hot water. But would it kill ya to watch a guy take the safety off his caulking gun for five seconds? It’s not like he’s doing it for his own health, ladies.
I suppose, in a perfect world of rainbows and unicorns, guys would just keep it in their pants. But suck it up, cupcake: Louis CK jerkin’ off for ya is as close to a unicorn as you’re gonna get.