Who Cares How Much You Love Bill Cosby?: An Exorcism

If the Rude Pundit could write a letter to anyone who still defends Bill Cosby, it would go like this:

"Dear Friends of Cosby,

"In my apartment somewhere are two scratched up, worn out copies of two of Bill Cosby's earliest comedy albums, Bill Cosby...Right! and Why Is There Air?, purchased when they first came out by my father. When I was a kid, I listened to those endlessly. I could still to this day recite large chunks of 'Hofstra,' Cosby's routine about the weak men from his school, Temple, being destroyed by the big, dangerous men from Hofstra on the football field. Cosby's comedy, not his generic TV shows, not his crappy movies, his comedy was as influential in the development of my humor - no, my thinking - as any person who I didn't call 'Dad' or 'Mom.'

"Fuck Cosby. Fuck him hard.

"I know you want to defend him. I know you want to join with Whoopi Goldberg or Rush Limbaugh or any of the people who are begging that their beloved Cos, their Fat Albert progenitor, their surrogate TV father not be a serial rapist. Who gives a shit about your feelings? Who gives a shit about mine? The only people who matter here are Cosby and his alleged victims, now numbering at least 15, all with disgustingly similar stories, the MO of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

"You say you can't possibly think about him in that way? That, for some reason, he might not be capable? Let me give you another way to think about the man:

"Bill Cosby invited your mother back to his room. It's possible. Many of these allegations are from a generation or two ago. Bill Cosby invited your mother back to his room at a hotel and, because, hell, this was Bill Cosby, your mother went. In his room, Bill Cosby offered your mother a drink. Your mother said, 'Sure,' and Bill Cosby mixed something at his bar while your mother sat down on the couch. Bill Cosby handed your mother the drink, which she thanked him for. While Bill Cosby watched, your mother downed the drink. Then your mother passed out in front of Bill Cosby. Bill Cosby picked your mother up and put her in the bed. Bill Cosby undressed your mother. Your mother woke up and tried to tell him to stop, but she was too drugged to do much more than weakly resist. Bill Cosby held your mother down, pulled down his pants, took his erect cock, and fucked her, even as she told him not to. Bill Cosby got off on that, on the struggle. When he was done, Bill Cosby pulled his pants on and left your mother naked on the bed with Bill Cosby's semen dripping between her legs. When she got up and left, your mother, who was very young at the time, who was living in the 1960s or 1970s, when many rapes were treated like they were part of a sexy game or what sluts deserved (times haven't changed that much), decided that there was no way she could possibly accuse the great Bill Cosby of having raped her.

"If you read that, I want that every time you think of Bill Cosby, you think of your mother being fucked by him. I want you to think about what your mother would have thought as she realized what was happening. I want you to think about your mother grappling with the actions and with the consequences. I want you to think about it because, if even one of these women is telling the truth - and, you know, one or two, maybe not, but 15? C'mon - that's what Bill Cosby did.

"Yes, you can make the argument that someone is innocent until proven guilty. And, legally, that's true. But we're not in court. And you can either believe that fifteen women are deranged liars or that Bill Cosby is a rapist. You can either believe that these allegations, which were first made over a decade ago and were mostly forgotten, are true or you can believe that fifteen women want to defame America's Pudding-Pop-pushing, Kids-Say-the-Darndest-Things hosting, sweater-wearing uber-Dad, who had to bury his own murdered son, for kicks and a bit of cash.  Who you choose says something about you, not the women.

"At this point, Cosby's got only a few options left. He could sue someone. Perhaps the women. Perhaps Hannibal Buress. If everyone is lying, he needs to sue someone. Celebrities do that all the time when someone tells lies about them. The easiest thing would be for him to go away. For good. You'll be okay without him. You didn't even know he was still around until the last few months. Unless there is someone more recent, he won't be prosecuted. Bill Cosby could just go away.

"And, yeah, he would have gotten away with it, for so very many fucked-up reasons. But the one that's making you who defend Cosby queasy is the one that those of us who say, 'Fuck Bill Cosby' already had to deal with. It's because you feel complicit. You watched him as it happened. You loved him as it happened. You laughed at his jokes as it happened. You bought his Kodak film, his sweets, his books, his recordings. God, it sucks for you, doesn't it? Fuck you.

"Chances are Bill Cosby is a serial rapist. That's a tragedy. Not for you. Not for Bill Cosby. Not for comedy. Not for America. But for the women he raped."

"Most sincerely,

"The Rude Pundit"