Et tu, Bill? I know people aren’t infallible, but sweet baby Jeebus, women are claiming you were quite the sexual predator in your heyday. So now I must renounce my allegiance to you, sir.
A few years back, I had a conversation with my buddy Chakktor (of The Gibbler Podcast fame) and I told him I wanted to see Bill Cosby perform on stage before he passes away. Not so much now.
I grew up on The Cosby Show and the wholesomeness of Dr. Cliff Huxtable. I also enjoyed Bill Cosby’s stand-up comedy and various pudding pop commercials.
Ghost Dad can go f*** itself.
But really, that was it. Was his character so beloved that it is the primary reason I wanted to see him so badly? I suppose so. Just like I loved Mel Gibson for Braveheart.
Yeah, sorry, Lethal Weapon was fine and all, but it has nothing on that speech about freedom.
This is why I can’t be a fan of a person. I’m a fan of a body of work. I don’t think I’ll ever not be a fan of The Cosby Show. It was a part of my childhood and, goddammit, it was entertaining (the same extends to A Different World). Outside of that, you’re dead to me, Bill. You’re not the ideal you claimed to be, lambasting young black kids because of their baggy jeans and rap music. You’re just a man, one who seems to have done horribly questionable things in the pursuit of sex with young females.
Oh wait, are you one of those people who thinks he didn’t do anything (*cough*Jon Jones*cough*)? Fair enough; there isn’t much evidence of which to speak, I know. All I’m saying is when there’s smoke, there’s fire. No one blames the actual nice guy of sexual assault.
Not as often as legitimate claims, anyway.
Especially when that “nice guy” settles out of court for previous allegations in 2005.
Peace out, party people.
Previously: The Idiotic Battle of Theists versus Atheists