My Fave Is Problematic

I have tried at least nine different ways to start this post and have abandoned them because this one is rough. But here goes. (Warning: this one may not be PG-rated.)

My Fave is Problematic.

I'm not going to go into the meme at length here (I have, in one of the nine different ways of writing this post), but suffice it to say that if you want to know what it means, Google is your friend.

I'm referring in this post, obviously, to Kevin Spacey.

Kevin Spacey. 

The Babeahwah. 

Most of you know that for more years than I care to recount (because that would prove that I’m that old), I have loved Spacey. I have connected to this bastard. 

And now, this. 

I’d heard about the Anthony Rapp story. I had heard that Rapp was a teenager, and I always assumed that he was in his late teens when it occurred, and that while “nothing happened”, Spacey had “made a pass” at Rapp. Having had a compromise in that area once in my life, I can understand poor judgment. I let it go, because I LOVED that bastard. 

Until October 30th. 

I was alerted to Mr. Rapp’s story by Starfleet’s newest captain, Jason Isaacs, on his Twitter feed. Isaacs is apparently a very amiable man in person, but behind a computer and with 140 (I guess now 280) characters, he can be withering as hell. He showed strong support for Rapp (and rightfully so), and I clicked through to read what was in the article he linked. 

And then I cried a lot. 

I’m hearing a lot on all sides about this whole “Spacey problem”. How Kevin chose to handle this is sickening, to be truthful. “I don’t remember, perhaps I owe him an apology, and oh yeah I’m gay.” 

“Well, I did it because I’m gay”?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? No wonder the entire gay community wants to be done with you. As Theresa points out, at least half the world conflates homosexuality and pedophilia—erroneously so. That’s like conflating homosexuality and lactose intolerance—there are probably the same proportion in the subset AB as the general population, but one does not become a homosexual through lactose intolerance or vice-versa. 

And it’s like you’re saying that being gay excuses the behavior—seriously, please let me play with a machete near your nether regions. 

Kevin, a little lesson. That’s not how you start. 

First you say: I’m so sorry I did that. 

I don’t want any excuses. If a brain damaged moron (Louis C.K.) can manage it, everyone can. 

We stick our heads in the sand about those we love because it makes life easier. We try to pretend that it's okay because we love them. Sarah Silverman has talked about it regarding Louis C.K. The Louis C.K. thing is disappointing, but the Spacey thing is heart-wrenching. Because there's a lot about him that I just love and adore and I hate that with all of those amazing things comes a secret that keeps getting bigger, and deeper, and darker, and I hate him so much for all of it. 

Kevin went to get "treatment" at the same place that Weinstein went to get "treatment". I get that we need to be able to find forgiveness, but I'm learning that there are some lessons that people don't want to learn, don't want to take in.

Like me with this one. 

I will say that I'm dubious about Kevin getting "treatment" because what he needs is an attitude adjustment that would also likely coincide with a severe reduction in his scrotum. 

I could go on. But I stop here on the ride with Kevin. I no longer investigate, because it hurts. I no longer look at headlines, because each one sends a glass dagger into my organs. 

I believe in forgiveness. I believe in the power of understanding that we need God because NONE of us can honestly achieve our own standards, because ALL of us need help from the darkness that resides in all of us. Some of us have more than others, but it's there in all of us, and it keeps getting dragged out into the light--and we act like the Pharisees about it (oh no! I would never!--say men who have. See: Trump, Donald). (That's a blog post for another day.)

Maybe today, the lesson is to forgive myself. But it comes at a price, and that price is my hope. 

I'm never going on this ride again with you, Kevin. And I'm so sorry. You were my beloved Babeahwah for nearly 2 decades. But now you're a sorry, sad man I have to say goodbye to and move forward. 

Maybe someday I get my hope back.