MASTERS OF OUR DOMAIN
In the fall of 2017—as future Tacitus, Livy or even Annales Maximi, who wrote 88 book about an earlier civilization’s decline might record—a series of cataclysmic events struck our beloved institutions. Icons in the arts, media, politics, and seemingly everywhere, were falling off their pedestals, like dominos.
Matt Lauer, America’s loveable next-door neighbor at the “Today” show…
Charlie Rose, the Socrates of late night public TV…
Actor Kevin Spacey of the cable masterpiece, “House of Cards” …
Lake Wobegon’s bard, Garrison Keillor…
Masturbation King of Comedy Louis C.K….
Distinguished senator from “Saturday Night Live,” the Honorable Al Franken of Minnesota…
John Hockenberry, Former Public Radio host, the “Takeaway“ guy in a wheel chair…
James Levine of Metropolitan Opera podium fame…
Former President George H. W. Bush….
The loss of so many gods at the same time, in terms of their impact on devoted stunned followers, can only be described as the same way the dinosaurs bought the farm one day 65 million year or so ago. A meteorite or something hit them, and…POW! The oceans swamped them. Or the gasses killed them. And that was it!
Def Jam recordings mogul Russell Simmons…NPR top news editor Michael Oreskes…“Making of the President” author Mark Halperin…88- year old Congressional legend, Rep. John Conyers of Michigan… Pixar co-founder John Lasseter of Disney…
I tell you, it was making me dizzy opening the paper every day seeing the latest A-List name getting the pink slip—being fired, asked to resign, taking leaves of absence, among the euphemisms for throwing in the towel for masturbating, touching, forcibly kissing, making sexist remarks, telling lewd jokes, bullying, whispering unwanted sweet nothings in ears, raping and other forms of inappropriate sexual harassment of employees.
Why, in our entertainment capital, in the land of silk and money, alone, the LA police department said they have 27 open investigations on entertainment figures, including actor Ed Westwick and agent Tyler Grasham. The LAPD has had to refer more than 30 other reports of sexual misconduct, according to the AP, that occurred in other parts of the nation and overseas to other law enforcement agencies.
The deluge of what the press and others mistakenly call “allegations”—actually accusations—has nothing to do with political orientation. Those who suffer from the affliction, known medically as Achilles Penis, bat from the left and right side of the plate. Switch hitters, too.
There are those who credit the seismic activity that is shaking our world daily to the award-winning movie mogul Harvey Weinstein, the depraved disgusting poster boy for seemingly untouchable men of power now paying the price for sexual misbehavior in the workplace.
By no means is Typhoid Harvey the first to invent sex as a ticket to getting ahead in the movie biz. The Louie B. Mayer casting couch, in the Smithsonian, I am told, is testimony to luminaries who crawled to the top on their backs.
When the dust settles, some time in the future, judging by the past, the Oscar people might remember Weinstein with the coveted Lifetime Achievement award (The Fatty Arbuckle Trophy).
At the risk of sounding like I am always giving credit to the commander-in-chief, the best we have, I suggest the current apocalypse may be attributable to the seminal work of POTUS in the sexual misbehavior field.
President Donald “Only Seven More Years” Trump may have created the tsunami of improper behavior with the “Access Hollywood” tape, a guide to how to act as a celebrity, widely disseminated during the 2016 campaign, a three act comedy of manners still making the news today.
Act one featured the real estate legend explaining that he could grab any women’s pussy, an entitlement coming to him as a celebrity.
The second act starred the 14 women who courageously came forward as beneficiaries of unwanted gifts from the irresistible head of hair.
Like the gentleman he is, the star of Page Six in the New York Post accused all 14—count them—14 of lying, and that he would see them all in court. Someday.
As if that wasn’t enough to establish his credibility in the case, he is currently tweeting the “Access Hollywood” smoking tape never existed. The old fake news story. Sad.
His defenders say groping is part of his brand. It shouldn’t be taken any more seriously than his lying, which is something he still seems to do every time he opens his mouth.
The Trump Doctrine, first promulgated in a 2016 campaign promise: if he shot somebody on Fifth Avenue, he could still be elected.
That is still true today, as his continuing strength with the band of brothers, the 35% of dedicated idiots and other Trumpista loyalists without whom the minority president wouldn’t be possible.
So it is no surprise that as the champion of morality in government this week Only Seven More Years endorsed in the coming Alabama senatorial election Judge Moore, the creepy twice defrocked jurist, whose hobby as a prosecutor, when not upholding the law to the full extent, so help him God, was hitting on teenyboppers at the malls. Soul mates! So making America great again!
Future chroniclers of the end of American civilization, as we laughingly now know it, may some day write that under the rule of the groper-in-chief the soul of the nation moved to the bottom of our president’s feet. (To be continued)
NEXT: IN POLITICS, SEX MAKES STRANGE BEDFELLOWS.
Dec. 6, 2017