Sure, it’s only Tuesday, but I think that we’ve got enough candidates for a good old-fashioned shitbag roundup. I don’t know if you know this, Enthusiasts, but everyone in the country except Rose MacGowan is a monster. You, me, the dracula hiding under your bed, all of us: assholes to the core. (Except Rose MacGowan.) Let’s work our way up to the obvious choices, shall we?
Another in the long line of useless sons of powerful men, Cyrus Vance is actually Cyrus Vance, Jr. His daddy was Carter’s Secretary of State, which means failure is in the bloodline. He’s been the DA in Manhattan since 2010. Remember a while ago when the banks got clever with mortgages and nearly collapsed the entire world’s economy? Despite libraries worth of evidence that all the big players were involved in high-level fuckery, Cyrus brought criminal charges against precisely one institution. Abacus bank. You’ve never heard of it? Shocker. It was a family-owned savings bank in Chinatown where the average employee earned fifty grand a year.
They were acquitted.
But he doesn’t take bribes, at least. Cyrus has that going for him. Sure, sometimes he’ll have a personal meeting with someone about to be charged with a crime, and then that person won’t be charged. And, yeah, a week later the person invariably makes a large donation to Cyrus’ reelection fund, but that’s not a bribe. It’s just how the game is played.
Oh, speaking of that reelection fund: Cyrus generally runs unopposed.
Anyone who had anything at all to do with that Szechuan Sauce bullshit
Stop it. Just stop it.
If a skeleton fucked a possum, you’d get Jerry Jones. If a piece of jerky couldn’t shut the fuck up, you’d get Jerry Jones. If a corpse was pickled in not formaldehyde but Blue Label, you’d get Jerry Jones. If it were 1854 and you walked up the Big House and asked for the Massa, you’d get Jerry Jones.
Yay, a noxious woman! This week has been by and large distasteful men (so unusual, I know) but Donna sneaks into the list. True, her inclusion is predicated on a distasteful man’s actions, but DK could have just STFU or played CYA like everyone else who’s known that Harvey Weinstein’s been a rapeydoodle all these years.
By the way, Enthusiasts: if a dog breeder tries to sell you a rapeydoodle, SAY NO. You do not want that dog. It will not be a good pet to you or your family.
Are you going to veer off into weirdoville now?
No, no. Gotta be disciplined.
Anyway, Donna felt the need to not only defend Harvey Weinstein, but also women (who are whores) for exposing their shoulders (their whorish shoulders) and thus practically demanding to be accosted. The internet wasted no time in pointing out, quite reasonably, two things:
- Shut the fuck up with that bullshit, Donna Karan.
- DKNY sells women’s clothing that, in Donna’s estimation, would cause the owner to become raped; her point is therefore a little bit self-indicting.
I don’t know what it takes to make that guy cum, and holy shit do I not want to know.
Obviously. We’re well past “creepy behavior” and also have driven by “taking advantage of a power imbalance;” we are firmly in “holding women down and doing stuff to them” territory. Famous people, too. Asia Argento, the actress and director. She’s Dario’s kid; he made all those Italian horror movies like Suspira. She did a couple big-budget action movies in America, but she’s an international and arty sort. Makes international and arty movies. Miramax kind of movies.
They have a film festival in Cannes, which is in the South of France, every year. All sorts of deals are made. All the important people are there. Harvey was very important, and Asia was not. He held her legs open and rubbed his thick-lipped mouth all over her pussy. She was 22, and skinny. Harvey has large hands, and they most likely wrapped all the way around her calves. She pretended to like it. She thought it would be over quicker if she pretended to like it.
As has been reported in more reputable places, Harvey Weinstein was thanked from the podium by Oscar winners more than anyone except Seven Spielberg.
Yeah, you. Shitbag.
Stop that! Why are you calling the Enthusiasts shitbags? Some of them are remarkably kind to you.
Did writing about the bad people make you sad, buddy?
Go write something funny. Or, you know, your interpretation of “funny.”
I believe in you!
That’s cuz you’re a shitbag.