harvey fucking weinstein, fucking again
In case you’ve ever wondered how much it costs to sexually assault and in some cases rape dozens or hundreds of women over the course of decades, Harvey Weinstein’s got a quote for you. It’s $25 million.
That’s right, kids!
If you’ve got $25 million, let your deesh off the leash and your wayne off the chain because you can do whatever the literal fuck you want to anyone the literal fuck you want as often the fuck as you want in front of as many the fuck witnesses as is convenient for your busy schedule, sir!
That’s right! For the cost of a mid-range private jet, you can become the office octopus, the letch of the lunchroom, Doctor Cocktor, or Professor Suckmadick-Thenwecantalkgradschoolrecommendations (it’s hyphenated.)
Enjoy it! Nobody else will!
For totally hypothetical example, Drake’s worth a hundred mill. That’s a hundred He has earned four lifetimes worth of complete carte blanche.
He could spend his entire current life sexually assaulting women in front of witnesses and cameras, then write a check, then perish in a freak shark diving accident, THEN get reincarnated as a movie producer, spend THAT entire life sexually assaulting women in front of witnesses and cameras, another check, then pass away comfortably in his sleep after four facelifts and a lifetime achievement award, surrounded by a family that knew and certainly won’t be writing about it in his obituary, and he WILL STILL BE ABLE TO leave $50 million to his eldest son, who has just become a father (mazel tov!). Both Drake Junior AND Drake Junior Junior, third of his name, will be able to carry on the family tradition of being a fuck, whenever the fuck, however the fuck, to whomever the fuck, for fucking ever. Then write a check.
OUTSTANDING. Did we just write the third season of Succession, or the book of Revelation?
Want to say right off the bat that whether the women accept this offer or reject it, I stand behind all of them 1000%. We’re already hearing that some have declined and others are considering it. This is their choice, not ours. They have suffered more than you or I can imagine and lived too long under the fear and stress of both public and private pressure to make this, a thing they DID NOT DO, go away. I wouldn’t blame them for wanting to close the chapter, and you shouldn’t either.
Please be very careful about your discourse around this money. Is it a gross and paltry sum compared to the value of women’s lives? Fucking of course. There is no amount of money that can replace what that turd -- no that’s not strong enough -- that scaly wretch of an oozing bridge troll felt entitled to take, for funsies. But we are not privy to all the facts of this process, nor are most of us lawyers experienced with these kinds of situations, and if these women and their lawyers believe this is the best they can get, we must support them in whatever they choose. If you shame them for wanting to be fucking done, I will write you a VERY strongly worded email. Let them be done if they’re done. Tell them I love you. I’ve got you. I trust you to make the right choice for you.
Now, I wasn’t sexually assaulted by Harvey Weinstein, so I want to take a minute to tap out my ex-Miramax sisters who are exhausted and beleaguered and fucking sick of this guy being part of their lives. Pass me the baton and get thee to the spa. Let me know when you’re settled in the soaking tub with the lute music bumping.
Okay so, first the fuck of all? I already fucking DID this guy. And nothing makes me pissier than having to repeat my work.
Of course, this is about more than money. Fucking rich pricks have been buying their way out of accountability for centuries, but this one hurts. This one hurts the most because this one completes a neat little map that shows exactly how far we have traveled to arrive back at the place we started:
Harvey Weinstein rapes and sexually assaults women and we have proof,
But Harvey Weinstein has enough power and money to avoid ever facing consequences, like, ANY consequences. AT ALL. EVER.
Don’t come at me with your “But cancel culture is toxic,” and “Oh but he got fired!” or “That one stand-up comic made him VERY uncomfortable when she called him out a couple of weeks ago.”
Let’s walk through this together, shall we? Harvey Weinstein raped and assaulted people at work. Then he got fired -- which must have been so hard, like how long must he wept into his binky, curled in the fetal position in his Scrooge McDuck swimming pool full of millions and millions and millions of dollars -- and now when he goes out in public sometimes people say “Hey, you raped and assaulted people at work, right?”
And we’re calling that “consequences”?
Accurate identification and wealthy non-employment?
Fucking shit, can I have some consequences?!?
I’ll take 50 mill, and you can call me a “raging feminist mouth-off bitch with VERY wide feet” literally EVERY time you see me on the street and I’ll be like, “Thank you, hello! Do you have any cereal box-shaped shoes for me today?”
Of course, Harvey “Intestinal Parasites Won’t Even Burrow Into The Bowels Of This Monumental Fucknugget” Weinstein is significantly less happy to be identified by his choices in public, but look, he jerked off to the sound of a woman crying in the shower so Schlongfuhrer Weinstein’s “happy” levels notch in right below “Trump’s cholesterol” on the scale of shit I care about.
What’s so fucking galling about this endpoint for the Weinstein saga is that when the Weinstein story broke, if he’d settled for $25 million six months later even, I would have been sad and angry, but I would not be consumed in abject, crackling rage.
$25 million?
For how many women?
And does that include all of their lawyer’s fees? How about bodyguards? How about their health care? Lost wages? Relocation costs?
And I’m sorry (no I’m not), but are you aware, sir, that after your story came out, thousands and thousands and thousands of women told THEIR stories, which we heard and repeated and begged someone to adjudicate (Fingers crossed! Any day now! Right? Guys? Guys, what are you looking at on your phones? Is that a meme? Why are you looking at a meme instead of my fucking face when I’m talking to you? Is it because you’re more comfortable interacting with two-dimensional renderings of suffering that ask nothing more than that you click on them, and my three-dimensional “what the fuck” face is asking you to actually give a shit about us and that makes you have uh-oh feelings?) and all of those stories became a movement that began with your fucking smug gremlin face, and nobody is sorrier about that than I am, by the way, but that doesn’t change the fact that some part of our culture continues to associate the entire #MeToo movement with your lifetime spent guzzling human beings in a grotesque display of pathological, scatalogical heartlessness?
$25 million feels retch-worthy not just because it’s not enough for the women you hurt, because truly there is no amount of money that can ever make what you did less than a foul, brutal violation.
$25 million makes me want to eat old fish on purpose just so I can vomit hot old fish barf into Harvey Weinstein’s actual mouth because what you did, H-bomb, sent us on a fucking journey that men hid from and women and survivors managed to stomach in the hopes that one of you fuckers might yell olly olly oxen free to bring the anxious enablers out from under the picnic tables, and call a meeting to say, bro to bro, “No but seriously, we should talk about this.”
STILL WAITING, GUYS.
We’ve been out here rending ourselves to convince you this shit is our real lives, and you’re hiding in the coffee nook like I’m scared can I even talk to women at work without having a me-too moment?
“Well, not if you’re talking about your penis, Bob...”
But sometimes it tingles!
“... and not if you’re talking about my tits...”
They look great in that blouse! I was talking about the BLOUSE.
“But keep your pants are on and room for the holy spirit, and so long as you’re talking about TPS reports, you’re golden.”
This sounds very complicated. I think I’ll just hire men. Because I’m a feminist.
Olly olly oxen free, you chickenshits. Get the FUCK out here and collect your BOBS.
The box is open. The door’s been kicked down and millions of people are standing here wondering how much we are worth. We’re hoping we’re worth your learning. We’re hoping we’re worth an apology, and your closed mouth while you listen, and your open mouth when something’s fucked up. We’re wondering if we’re worth hearing and believing. We’re wondering if we’re worth a fight.
Humiliatingly, someone came up with a number.
$25 million! Thanks, I hate it!
There is no number. The only number I want is 1-800-TIME-MACHINE, get me the fuck to the moment Harvey Weinstein was conceived because it’s time to make It’s a Wonderful Life WONDERFUL again. True, we lose Shakespeare in Love. But we gain the careers of dozens of women who could have made so many fucking movies, you guys… god DAMN it they could have made some great movies. Like, Clueless was the TIP of the iceberg.
Sadly, time machines are off the table -- FOR NOW, HARVEY. FOR NOW. So actually, the only number I want? Is everything.
It’s a reasonable quote.
I’m planning to charge per therapy session, per panic attack, per flashback, per nightmare, per vomit, per lost friendship, per fight I picked because I couldn’t explain why I was so fucking mad, per toxic coping mechanism, per pill, per drink, per fuck, per lost hour in a too-hot shower. I’m planning to invoice every time my life gets smaller. You’ll get a bill for every flash of shame. I’m charging for every minute of every day I spend reminding myself I’m safe. Those are minutes I’m not writing. Those are minutes I’m not with my children, who are older now.
You know what that’s called? That’s called fucking consequences, and WE pay them. We pay the consequences. And we didn’t do SHIT to earn them. And you, the person who made the choice over and over and over and over and over again, who walked away to leave so many women alone to mend together over years the parts of them you fucking broke, you think the only thing you should have to pay is someone else’s money?
We’re not your mom at Applebee’s, Harvey. We’re not picking up this check any the fuck more. Not that I have any solution to how sociopathic monsters should be asked to account for their crimes.
I’ve heard some people say that the best punishment for Weinstein would be a long life lived behind bars, enduring sexual abuse from other prisoners.
Don’t bring that shit here.
If you’re against sexual violence, you’re fucking against it, period. If you’re against most rape (RED FLAG), but actually for when you feel it’s earned (RUN), here’s what you do: get the fuck out of here, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, go immediately to a therapist because it’s fucked up and you scare the shit out of me.
I’ve heard some people say that a fair and just punishment would be volunteering with survivors of sexual violence. So he can learn.
HmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmTHEFUCK?!?
Listen to me very carefully. Harvey Weinstein does not have an education problem. Harvey doesn’t need night school. Harvey Weinstein has a gaping hole in his heart and he seems to think the prescription is more twenty-five-million-dollar back massages.
But even if Harvey Weinstein had the pitted, low-hanging balls to make the argument that he just DIDN’T KNOW he was assaulting women, like if he said, “In some cultures, women cry when they’re aroused,” and he really fucking SOLD the line, like everyone on Earth for a minute was like, “Oh no, he didn’t know? Poor baby! I bet he feels just awful now!”
EVEN IF you GENUINELY thought that Harvey had walked the earth among world leaders and millions of other human beings NOT RAPING PEOPLE, and he was simply MISINFORMED this whole time, do you honestly think that people who have forged a life for themselves after sexual violence with guts and grit and little else are REALLY TRULY the VERY BEST CHOICE for people to sit down in a room with Harvey “The Cockgoblin” Weinstein, who probably spent $25 million on fucking bathrobes in 1997?
NO.
Okay, if we can’t “do him” as he “did to others,” and you’re telling me you DON’T think he should visit women’s shelters (ya snowflake), and you think cash isn’t enough, what the fuck do you want?
Fuck.
This is the question we’ve been trying to answer since October 2017: but what can we ask of him? What will be enough?
I want him to be nothing, and I want the women he hurt to have everything. That will be enough.
I want him, the man who put the rape in rapacious, to give everything he has -- not just his money, but the rights to his films, his connections, his favors, his kompromat, every asset from a life lived exclusively to hoard assets both female and financial -- to the women he hurt. I want every person who ever hired him to fight over hiring these women. I want them to top each other with hundreds of thousands of dollars and complete creative control. And a percentage on the back. And a REALLY GOOD HEALTH PLAN. WITH ORTHODONTIA. Some of these women have kids now.
I want him to stop going to clubs where performers will have to stare down the barrel of that face and try to be funny. I want him to go the fuck away, I don’t care where, and I want the women he hurt to do whatever the fuck they want with the pieces of his life that he pillaged so gluttonously. I want them to shine. I want them to rule. I want them to give it all away to the next person and live small, comfortable lives if that’s what they want for themselves. I want them to sleep knowing that the ghoulish, handsy Smaug has been booted from his shining stockpile of famous people and bragging rights and rooms he knew he ruled.
That’s what I want. I want him humbled. I want him empty. I want a comprehensive ransacking of every shred of clout that insulated him from the human cost of his foul abuses, and I want his power to settle over the shoulders of the women who survived his fucking bullshit. You will thank me when they wield that power with justice and open it like a blanket to keep so many others warm.
I don’t know any of these women but I know they’d do that.
And even if it’s too much to hope for yet, even if $25 million is the closest we can get to that total seizure of this crotchwaffle’s power, I’m going to keep wanting more. Especially if that $25 million is a small mercy to the women he hurt who deserve peace above everything else, I’m going to keep asking for more. For everything.
That wasn’t something I even knew to ask for two years and two months ago. Two years and two months ago I would have thought $25 million was too little, but I wouldn’t have imagined I could demand everything, and be standing when I asked for it, and know I wasn’t alone, and know we are all fucking right.
Olly olly oxen free, motherfuckers. Get the fuck out here.
NOW.
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