Lena Dunham - Sexual Predator?

[Bells]

She's a fucking comic.

And?

It is disturbing that so many comics or those who would classify as comedic entertainers are accused and have been found guilty of tampering with children. Woody Allen could also be classified as a comic. Does that somehow negate the wrongs they have done?

Her being a comic does not make what she did as a teenager (I am not talking about when she was 7 and on the driveway looking at her 1 year old sister's vagina). What teenager do you know would get into their younger sibling's bed to masturbate?

Just because she is a comic does not make that normal or acceptable.

Would you be making this same argument if she was a he? What would you think of a teenage boy who crept into his little sister's bed while she slept so he could masturbate? Would your answer be any different if he was a comic?

And as Tiassa notes and others have as well, what the hell were her parents doing?

So what. People are weird.

And?

She has repeatedly thrust her sister into the limelight, obsessed over her, admitted to obsessing over her. Now she tells the world she used to crawl into her sister's bed at night while the sister slept so she could get off on herself. How is this classified as normal in that family?

It's not worth dissecting.

Why not? Because she is famous and a comic? Because she is a she?

Quite a few said the same thing about Jimmy Savile, Rolf Harris, Woody Allen, to name a few.

I appreciate her letting us into her past for a moment of honesty. I remember doing some weird things too as a kid, I bet everyone has but isn't bold enough to admit it.

There's weird and then there's shit that would normally get you arrested and charged as a sex offender weird. She admitted to crawling into her sister's bed so she could diddle with herself while her sister slept. Guess which one that falls under.

And she thinks this is normal or something that kids just do? What the hell was she exposed to as a child?

 

[Repo Man]

This part: “I shared a bed with my sister, Grace, until I was seventeen years old. She was afraid to sleep alone and would begin asking me around 5:00 P.M. every day whether she could sleep with me. I put on a big show of saying no, taking pleasure in watching her beg and sulk, but eventually I always relented. Her sticky, muscly little body thrashed beside me every night as I read Anne Sexton, watched reruns of SNL, sometimes even as I slipped my hand into my underwear to figure some stuff out,”


Does not sound normal to me.