I had not bothered with the story of Roman Polanski, but today I happened upon Mark Steyn's take-down of the pompous sanctimony of those worldly sophisticates who have played off Polanski's crime against Polanski's reputed genius and found that latter to be an excuse for the former. Steyn is, as usual, matchless in his combination of mordant wit and social commentary.
Here's a taste:
As the feminists used to say in simpler times, “What part of ‘No’ don’t you understand?”The whole piece is here.
Quite a lot, if the reaction to Roman Polanski’s arrest is anything to go by. I didn’t know, for one thing, that, if you decide to plough on regardless, the world’s artists will rise as one to nail their colors to your mast.
Whoopi Goldberg offered a practical defense — that what Polanski did was not “rape-rape,” a distinction she left imprecisely delineated. Which may leave you with the vague impression that this was one of those deals where you’re in a bar and the gal says to you she’s in tenth grade and you find out afterwards she’s only in seventh. Hey, we’ve all been there, right? But in this particular instance Roman Polanski knew she was 13 years old and, when she declined his entreaties, drugged her with champagne and a Quaalude and then sodomized her. Twice. Which, even on the Whoopi scale, sounds less like rape, or even rape-rape, and more like rape-rape-rape-rape.