Sep. 29th, 2009

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Reminder - Roman Polanski raped a child

Roman Polanski raped a child. Let's just start right there, because that's the detail that tends to get neglected when we start discussing whether it was fair for the bail-jumping director to be arrested at age 76, after 32 years in "exile" (which in this case means owning multiple homes in Europe, continuing to work as a director, marrying and fathering two children, even winning an Oscar, but never -- poor baby -- being able to return to the U.S.). Let's keep in mind that Roman Polanski gave a 13-year-old girl a Quaalude and champagne, then raped her, before we start discussing whether the victim looked older than her 13 years, or that she now says she'd rather not see him prosecuted because she can't stand the media attention. Before we discuss how awesome his movies are or what the now-deceased judge did wrong at his trial, let's take a moment to recall that according to the victim's grand jury testimony, Roman Polanski instructed her to get into a jacuzzi naked, refused to take her home when she begged to go, began kissing her even though she said no and asked him to stop; performed cunnilingus on her as she said no and asked him to stop; put his penis in her vagina as she said no and asked him to stop; asked if he could penetrate her anally, to which she replied, "No," then went ahead and did it anyway, until he had an orgasm.

The media circus is unpleasant. It's absurdist. The way the media functions in this day and age is often depressing, disheartening and aggravating. But what's more absurdist and disgusting is the Polanski apologist crowd. The idea that we should forget he pled guilty to raping a child because he's made great movies or suffered during WWII is fucking obscene. I would like to know how many of these celebrities would be signing a petition if Polanski was a Nazi war criminal or stole their retirement savings. Does anyone honestly believe we would let Bernie Madoff run away to France for thirty years?
threeplusfire: (simple)
I'm so tired. I'm so tired of being angry about so many things. I feel like I woke up in some Bizarro World where everything is turned inside out and terrible.

I keep forgetting that that I'll only get more angry as I read incredibly stupid things on the internet.

Oh Milan Kundera, how I wish you were not batshit insane. At least I'm not disappointed by it.

Mike and I talked over dinner about the evolutionary trajectory of the video game industry, and the development of morally ambiguous stories.

Housework is this never ending circle. I don't feel like it's ever over.

I need to buy some frames for various pictures.

We saw the awesome Gogol Bordello documentary the other night. Highly recommended. I am sad I'm going to miss their Austin show. But I'll be seeing Leonard Cohen.

New slacks, dark grey. The thing I bought them for seems not to be happening but I will keep them anyway.

It's amazing that I work so few hours a week but it manages to interfere with scheduling things anyhow.

Somewhere in the past twenty four hours I pinched something in my hand and it feels on the verge of numbness. This is driving me crazy.

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