It appears that Leftists, and their allies in the elite media have had enough of watching the #MeToo movement cut down their sex criminal friends in Hollywood.
The Los Angeles Times is leading the charge with help from UC Berkeley.
The story on Babe.net, an online news site styled for hip young women, was long and lurid. Its title: “I went on a date with Aziz Ansari. It turned out to be the worst night of my life.”
It was, at best, an epically bad date, according to the account, with heavy-handed sexual advances made, partly rewarded and finally rebuffed, and it ended with the woman leaving Ansari’s Manhattan apartment in tears of outrage and humiliation. But the article is more than a sob story. Suddenly, the account of that evening in September has achieved an incendiary cultural renown in the wider furor over gender bullying — “a critical flash point in our reckoning with sexual violence,” as Slate describes it, and as Atlantic.com writer James Hamblin says, “crystallizing debate over an entire movement.”
Ansari is an accomplished and popular actor, author and comedian, the star of NBC’s “Parks and Recreation,” creator of a well-regarded Netflix series, a winner of Emmy and Golden Globes awards. He has feminist cred for gestures in support of the #MeToo movement.
According to the Los Angeles Times, the question is whether any of this is newsworthy and whether the account of it that ran in Babe.net constitutes responsible journalism.
Under fire for a heinous sex crime, the Times suddenly has a problem with the evidentiary issue: Its sourcing is wafer-thin — a single informant. Her identity is concealed (she’s renamed “Grace”), so her credibility can’t be appraised. Second, the question of taste: The account is driven by a description of sexual doings that’s so detailed it’s practically pornographic.
Finally, above all looms the privacy issue: The incident it chronicles isn’t offered up as fitting a pattern either of sexual predation on Ansari’s part or of institutional coercion — no professional advantage was being proffered in exchange for sexual favors, nobody’s suggesting she was just one of Ansari’s many victims. This was a date, a one-on-one disaster. And because that’s normally a personal matter that happens in a private space, it’s reasonable to ask whether the writer is justified in bringing this intimate behavior into the public gaze.
Really? Suddenly a sex crime victim’s word isn’t good enough anymore? When did this happen?