- Wednesday, October 11 2017, 14:08:52 (UTC)|
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-- While all of these stories about Harvey Weinstein are surfacing, I was reminded of my own personal experience in Hollywood. In 1998, while I was 25 going on 26, in between jobs and girlfriends and drugs... a patron at a bookstore where I worked as a barista serving industry big shot has-beens espresso and a few minutes of bullshit, told me that a woman she knows whose son is autistic needs someone to take her boy to his appointments. Why not? I got the address and went to her home. Where did she live? Hollywood Hills: In a big mansion, just her with husband and son. Before I arrived we had a chat on the phone. She required that I live at the house with them where I'd have my own room, car and of course, money. Fine. I arrived on an afternoon and just as walked in, I noticed that the house was pact with people and equipment. There was a film crew shooting a movie inside. So I quietly found a place on the steps of the stairwell leading to the second floor. On the walls I noticed black & white photos from the early 1970s. Taking a closer look, I realized that in the photos was the woman of the house with whom I spoke on the phone standing next to Al Pacino on the set of his 1971 film, "The Panic in Needle Park", about heroin addicts in New York unable to get their dope, thanks to the NYPD boys who busted the French Connection, which caused a dry period in the city, causing a "panic" among the city's junkies. Next photo was from 1974, on the set of "The Godfather Part II", once again there she was with her arm around Michael Corleone (Pacino) and Vito Andolini (Robert De Niro). I was quite excited thinking about living with these folks, taking care of their son, meeting their "big shot" friends... Cut to the chase (or whatever): One night I got a call from the woman (no, I don't remember her name, and I wouldn't out her since she still works in the industry) she wanted me to "swing by" and "meet some friends". I told her I'd be there in an hour, and I couldn't stay too long. She was slurring her words... must have been a bit drunk and doped up on some Valiums. I get there, parked my car then recalled saying good-bye and "safe trip" to her husband a few days back. He was on his way to New York for some meetings. He said he'd be back in a week to ten days. I got out of the car, stepped in the house, and bam! there she was, dressed up and made up, giggling with her friends, all of whom were female, except for one guy who was gay, who I had met the day her husband left for the East Coast. "Cool", I thought to myself. I prefer the company of women over men anytime. But something strange happened that made me feel nauseated. The woman grabbed my hand and took me around to introduce to her friends who in turn gave her a nod and a smile, as if to say "good job", or something. Anyway, I trust my gut and my gut was about to explode in vomit. I started shaking and sweating. When she referred to me as "honey" instead of my name, that was when my entire body was about to spasm... Perhaps, I would do one of those Pacino monologues: "you're out of order, I'm out of order...", but I excused myself to have a cigarette outside. Once I stepped out, I ran to my car, got inside and went home. I'd never felt that way... and this past day or so while reading about these Hollywood stars whose careers depended on being a fuck toy for some Hollywood big shot, it made me understand (I think) how women who deal with powerful rich men must feel when they're cornered by a scumbag like Weinstein or Trump or Ailes or some fuckin' CEO of a company, threatening them to either submit to their advances, or lose their job and have their careers destroyed. I knew guys like Weinstein in high school. They went through high school and possibly college without falling in love or being loved and wanted, so now that they have money and power, they simply just whip out their puny dicks in front of young girls and jack off... with the promise of "I'll make you famous". They need to go to prison and feel what it's like to be treated like an sex object. Sickening!
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