Why did a talent as big as him suddenly fall off the planet? (It’s not what you think.)
Usually, when you see a man’s name mentioned in a sex scandal, especially some top Hollywood talent, the inclination is to assume that he is the accused.
Not this time. In this case, the Hollywood talent is neither the one abusing his power, nor his he the predator.
The person he is accusing has WAY more power than Fraser does, and that seems to be why we’ve stopped hearing Fraser’s name.
Guys can be MeToo victims too.
Not that we’ll hold our breath waiting for the LGBT community to speak out about this abuse of power. Politics before people, after all.
His GQ interview was at his house, with his horse, done his way. It was a long one, and it covered a lot of ground, including some of the hard times. You know it’ll be a little different when this comes up:
Fraser pauses, and his eyes seem to well up, and for the first time in this litany of surgeries and loss, he seems like he might not want to continue. I ask if he needs a break.
“I’m okay,” he says. “I think I just need to let some arrows fly.”
He excuses himself as I ponder what this means. A few minutes go by. When he returns, it’s with a leather quiver full of arrows strapped to his back. He steps out onto his porch. Outside, he lofts a bow, nocks an arrow. Down below on his lawn, maybe 75 yards away, is an archery target. He releases the arrow straight into the target’s center. Bull’s-eye. Then nocks a second arrow, and does it again.
Respect. That sure beats Xanax as far as coping mechanisms go.
A few weeks after that day on set, Fraser calls me. There’s something he wants to tell me that he couldn’t quite bring himself to relate in London or New York. He’s sorry about that, he says—that he didn’t have “the courage to speak up for risk of humiliation, or damage to my career.”
Certain pieces of what he tells me have already been told, it turns out—but this is the first time he’s ever spoken publicly about any of it. The story he wants to relay took place, he says, in the summer of 2003, in the Beverly Hills Hotel, at a luncheon held by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, the organization that hosts the Golden Globes. On Fraser’s way out of the hotel, he was hailed by Philip Berk, a former president of the HFPA. In the midst of a crowded room, Berk reached out to shake Fraser’s hand. Much of what happened next Berk recounted in his memoir and was also reported by Sharon Waxman in The New York Times: He pinched Fraser’s ass—in jest, according to Berk. But Fraser says what Berk did was more than a pinch: “His left hand reaches around, grabs my ass cheek, and one of his fingers touches me in the taint. And he starts moving it around.” Fraser says that in this moment he was overcome with panic and fear.
Will the ‘MeToo’ crowd keep their promise to hear and believe victims when the narrative deviates from the usual storyline?
Fraser eventually was able, he says, to remove Berk’s hand. “I felt ill. I felt like a little kid. I felt like there was a ball in my throat. I thought I was going to cry.” He rushed out of the room, outside, past a police officer he couldn’t quite bring himself to confess to, and then home, where he told his then wife, Afton, what had happened. “I felt like someone had thrown invisible paint on me,” he says now. (In an e-mail, Berk, who is still an HFPA member, disputed Fraser’s account: “Mr. Fraser’s version is a total fabrication.”)
In the aftermath of the encounter, Fraser thought about making it public. But ultimately, “I didn’t want to contend with how that made me feel, or it becoming part of my narrative.” But the memory of what had happened, and the way it made him feel, stuck with him. His reps asked the HFPA for a written apology. Berk acknowledges that he wrote a letter to Fraser about the incident but says, “My apology admitted no wrongdoing, the usual ‘If I’ve done anything that upset Mr. Fraser, it was not intended and I apologize.’ ”
According to Fraser, the HFPA also said it would never allow Berk in a room with Fraser again. (Berk denies this, and the HFPA declined to comment for this story.) But still, Fraser says, “I became depressed.” He started telling himself he deserved what had happened to him. “I was blaming myself and I was miserable—because I was saying, ‘This is nothing; this guy reached around and he copped a feel.’ That summer wore on—and I can’t remember what I went on to work on next.”
Fraser doesn’t believe it’s merely a coincidence that acting work dried up for him after that.
Will he be celebrated for his courage the way Judd was for hers? Because finally standing up and speaking up required it of him.
He was in a hotel room just weeks ago, watching the Globes on TV, Fraser says, as the actresses wore black and the actors wore Time’s Up pins in solidarity, when the broadcast showed Berk in the room. He was there and Fraser was not.
“Am I still frightened? Absolutely. Do I feel like I need to say something? Absolutely. Have I wanted to many, many times? Absolutely. Have I stopped myself? Absolutely.”
The Effeminization Of The American Male
by Doug Giles
Doug Giles, best-selling author of Raising Righteous And Rowdy Girls and Editor-In-Chief of the mega-blog, ClashDaily.com, has just penned a book he guarantees will kick hipster males into the rarefied air of masculinity. That is, if the man-child will put down his frappuccino; shut the hell up and listen and obey everything he instructs them to do in his timely and tornadic tome. Buy Now:The Effeminization Of The American Male
We’ve all wondered for a long time, but it looks like medical science has finally determined the problem.
It’s spreading like a plague. For some reason, Liberals are losing their ever-loving minds.
Trump Derangement — and Romney Derangement before that — and Bush Derangement before that are only the tip of the iceberg.
What is driving them so berzerk?
Looks like we’ve found an answer:
A liberal walks into the hospital and asks for an X-ray of its skull. Doctors confirmed what we already feared. Here’s the sad diagnosis…
That’s the ladies’ version. You can get it here.
Don’t worry. There’s one for the guys, too.
You can get the guy’s version here.
And the best part? This shirt is made in the USA, printed in the USA, on an American-Made t-shirt press!