Poor Roman Polanski
Mr. Polanski, child rapist extraordinaire, is being held in Switzerland pending resolution the United States’ extradition request. For those who came in late, Mr. Polanski drugged and forcibly sodomized a 13 year old girl in Jack Nicholson’s California hot tub back in 1977.
Just this week, a British actress came forward claiming Mr. Polanski also raped her when she was just 16.
“Dang!”, Mr. Polanski must be thinking to himself, “How can this week get any worse?”
Enter Woody Allen, stage lefty. Mr. Allen takes it upon himself to explain away Mr. Polanski’s admitted crime. Mr. Allen helpfully states:
He’s [Mr. Polanski] an artist, he’s a nice person, he did something wrong and he paid for it. They [his critics] are not happy unless he pays the rest of his life. They would be happy if they could execute him in a firing squad. Enough is enough.
Oh. Drugging and sodomizing a young teen, then fleeing to Europe and living the high life equates to “[doing] something wrong” and “[paying] for it.” ‘Puter gets it now. So using the new Allen defense, Charles Manson gets to go to Tahiti and live the high life despite his gruesome murder spree. Nice moral equivalence, Mr. Allen.
Of course, Mr. Allen’s sympathy for Mr. Polanski is completely understandable. After all, Mr. Allen seduced his 22 year old step daughter Soon Yi Previn while still married to his ex-wife Mia Farrow.
In a just world, there’s a special place in Hell for both these men.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.