POPE’S HARD CELL
Private memo to Hollywood Rapists, Assaulters, Harassers & Slime Bucket Power Brokers, Just a quick question: In what universe is whipping it out and masturbating in front of guests, employees and other strangers is a great conversation starter? Oh, right, in your universe. And in what land is rape called a date, and assault part of the job perks? Right again! Hollwoodland!
Did you honestly believe that assault, rape, masturbation and harassment would make for a good working environment? Nah. You didn’t care, because your victims would remain so, and you’d remain on top. Right? Wrong.
You all are like old-time dirty cops who took the money because it was part of the culture.
But no, sorry, whipping it out as a power move in an interview never, ever, got any woman to fall for you — even if it WAS part of your culture.
But despite all evidence to the contrary you kept/keep doing it and are only sorry for getting caught, not for harming countless women.
Take the latest pervert to fall out of the closet undressed — Louis C.K. Or make that Louis Sick K.
Two women finally exposed Louis for exposing himself and masturbating in front of them. So what did he do? He penned probably the worst, most insincere, ugly, “sorryfor-sexually-destroyingyour-life” apology in what is now an overcrowded field of carefully crafted BACKGRID God bless Pope Francis. He just told the crowd of 13,000 gathered to hear his weekly teachings outside St. Peter’s Square to put their cell phones the hell away. OK, he didn’t say “hell,” but still. He said, “It pains me greatly, when I celebrate Mass here in the square or in the basilica, to see so many cell phones raised.” And it’s not just regular folks who do this, the pontiff continued, “but some priests and even some bishops. Come on!” Come on is right. Take a hint from the pontiff. You are shooting the moment instead of experiencing it. Living in the moment, you’ll find is a helluva lot more enlightening than aiming a camera at yourself. best-selling apologies. C.K.’s mea culpa (emphasis on me) is almost as bad as Kevin Spacey’s, “I forgot if I sexually assaulted you” statement. C.K. now says he feels terrible that he learned his lesson too late in life. What lesson would that be? How to use the word “d--k” when writing an apology for showing HIS to shocked women over whom he held power? Or maybe that it isn’t OK to masturbate in front of women who come to you looking for a break? “At the time,” he bizarrely wrote, “I said to myself that what II did was okay because I never showed a woman my d--k without asking first.” What? Liar. In fact, C.K.’s new repulsively titled now-canceled movie, “I Love You Daddy,” allegedly about infamous, accused pedophile Woody Allen, is supposedly full of “funny” sexual harassment scenes. Victimization isn’t funny. Ever. Take Allen himself, the unnamed “hero” of C.K.’s movie, When he was 45, he cast 16-year-old Mariel Hemingway as his lover in “Manhattan.” That was before he took his own girlfriend’s daughter as his lover. All these years later, unrepentant, unbowed and unforgivable, Allen is shamelessly doing it again. His upcoming NYC-and-pedophile-based movie, “A Rainy Day In New York,” features an adult man in a sexual relationship with a 15-year-old girl. Enough, dammit. Your rape fantasies are not fun or funny on-screen and they are tragic — and often criminal — in real life. Clue: Showing the worst of humanity isn’t always art. Most of the time it’s just porn with pretensions. We now have to stop accepting your violent perversions — both on the screen, and most especially in real life.