Paleo Retiree writes:
America’s very own Maoist Cultural Revolution gathers steam:
Allen frustrates people because he seems to relish dancing on the edge of the outrage. There’s nothing criminal about an 82-year-old’s fixation with 18-year-olds, and it’s not whip-out-your-penis, button-under-the-desk bad. But it’s deeply, anachronistically gross. More than that, he seems not to care about bettering or changing himself in any way. He lives and thinks and creates as he did in the 1970s, nearly a half-century ago. He’s a reminder that our future, however woke it becomes, will not be full of social-justice valedictorians quoting James Baldwin and Roxane Gay. There will be 22nd-century dunces lagging by a half-century or more. Allen is worse than an augury of those trolls of tomorrow; he is a model for them, a validation.
Why is a reputable — OK, somewhat still reputable — outlet like the Washington Post publishing such a wet-behind-the-ears, grandstanding, self-righteous piece?
It’s very strange for someone who has spent a long lifetime assuming that the main role of most art is to supply a realm where we get to explore and play out all kinds of urges, kinks and drives to wake up and find that, No, from now on what art is for is to give us moral examples and scoldy little SJW lessons.