As the coronavirus ravages the nation, millions of terrified people whose employment hangs in the balance are locked in their homes. Naturally, Louis C.K. found it fitting to release a new comedy special.
I’m about the thousandth person to make this joke because it practically writes itself. Of all the men (and women) whose careers were culled — or so they claimed — by the #MeToo movement, few were as disappointing a revelation as the case of C.K., one of the few remaining comedians who actually cared about comedy.
Unlike the cases of Harvey Weinstein, Matt Lauer, and their ilk, absolutely no one accused C.K. of rape. But unlike the case of Justice Brett Kavanaugh, C.K. wholly confirmed his malfeasance. As the rumor mill suggested for years, C.K. repeatedly exposed himself and masturbated in front of lesser-known or completely unknown female comedians. C.K. claims he always asked for consent before these acts and whether the recurring rumors that he locked or barred the door while doing so has still never been confirmed on the record. But that C.K., a once and potentially future kingmaker of comedy, used his star power for sexual gratification is a matter of fact.
C.K. spent even less time than most underground, returning to top comedy clubs less than a year after confirming the reports of sexual misconduct. Ironically enough, a number of these gigs were sprung among audience members as what C.K. likely considered a welcome surprise. And now, you can watch him perform in front of you as you’re locked in your home for the low price of $7.99!
The “mob” doesn’t have to come for C.K., and he certainly doesn’t have to be “canceled.” He released his special on his own website, and comedy clubs have booked him with their willing consent. But there’s nothing wrong with ignoring him.
People who haven’t broken laws shouldn’t be denied the right to earn a dignified living, but people who abuse their power and clearly view half of humanity as a subspecies shouldn’t be put on a pedestal with the power to dictate cultural narratives. Comedy is no ordinary job. Comedians, like journalists and academics, wield an unusual responsibility for the public. Sure, we expect comedians to say outrageous things, and C.K.’s specific brand was adored for killer off-kilter commentary. But saying egregious things is a world away from doing them. If you found out your child’s principal whipped it out in front of an unsuspecting first-year teacher, you wouldn’t want them within three miles of your kid’s education. Why would you want to give money to a guy who basically did the same thing only for him to joke about it?
You can do you, and I certainly have zero interest in any sort of organized boycott. But it’s not edgy or subversive to buy into C.K.’s schtick. It’s simply a validation that you, too, can treat women like inanimate sex toys, lead to their careers being derailed, and ultimately get a slap on the wrist for it.
This isn’t trying to burn books published decades ago because of the actions of long-dead authors or trying to end the career of some low-level bureaucrat for “wrongthink.” It’s a simple admission that if someone spent years taking advantage of women, apologizing to them, and then continuing to do it anyway with the intentional protection of the entire comedy industry — and he did so just years ago, maybe it’s best not to reward that behavior.
So it’s fine to ignore him. It’s not some radical feminist statement or imposition of cancel culture. It’s a simple recognition that you don’t wish to vote with your dollars to hand more cultural power back to a man who clearly views women as a means to an end.
