The latest man accused of molesting young girls is Charlie Rose. I bet every man in America who has ever groped a young girl is shaking in his boots tonight.
Every woman who was ever assaulted/groped/molested/raped is now coming forward to NAME her Perp. It’s a new day in America and God only knows what comes next. I can visualize how it will go around many Thanksgiving tables this year:
Everyone is seated around an oval table. There’s turkey, dressing, cranberries and mashed potatoes. Things seem to be going well, but Angie is on her third glass of wine. All of a sudden, she throws down her fork and yells, “Uncle Brad molested me when I was 15!”
Uncle Brad is stunned. “No I didn’t! She said she wanted to learn about love from someone she trusted so I was just helping her out.”
Angie’s dad pushes his plate back. I’m going to get my ’45 Smith and Wesson and we’ll get to the bottom of this pretty fast.”
The whole dinner goes to hell in a handbasket as police are called when the family moves their fight out onto the front lawn.
Across town, in another nice, but drab tract housing neighborhood, a family is just placing the turkey in the middle of the table. Dad has his trusty electric knife and is ready to start carving. His daughter, 12-year old Emily, innocently says, “Dad, what is French kissing?”
Dad is stunned. He turns off the knife. “Where did you hear about that?”
She sheepishly grins. “Mr. Arnold from next door was trying to show me what it is the other day when I went over to return his hedge trimmers.”
Dad throws the knife down. “Arnold? That man is at least 50 years old! He’s got grandkids for God’s sake!”
“He said that French kissing would come in handy in just a few years so he wanted to teach me how to do it correctly.” She pauses to stare down at the floor. “He was just trying to be helpful, dad.”
Dad grabs his electric knife, making sure it’s fully charged and heads to Mr. Arnold’s house. The news that night reports that two men got into a Thanksgiving altercation where one of them tried to carve the penis of the other one.
I imagine we’ve all got a story we could tell if we wanted to and these types of events seem to go in phases. For the next couple of years, people will come out with their stories of sexual abuse. Then all of a sudden, nobody will care anymore.