No, no negative assessment here -- I was on my own quirky quest for the ever-rare, loose, discarded Holy Water bottle -- don't ask -- but, I've always liked that line, "Any Tate memorabilia?" and it came to mind this week as Tate's poor widower has been in the news so. So, opinion spew overkill or not, can you take one more piece on the former Mr. Sharon Tate?
Read Mark Steyn:
The political class is beginning to recalibrate. In Paris, President Sarkozy's government withdrew its initial enthusiasm for Polanski after it emerged that even the boundlessly sophisticated French aren't eager to champion creepy child rapists just because they're celebrities. As Susan Estrich wrote, "Yes, he's made some big films in those years. So what?"
Hold that thought: "Big films," like what? Until "The Pianist" briefly revived his reputation, Polanski had spent the previous quarter-century making leaden comedies ("Pirates"), generic thrillers ("Frantic") and lame art-house nudie flicks ("Bitter Moon," with the not-yet-famous Hugh Grant). If that level of "great art" is all the justification you need for drugging and sodomizing 13-year-old girls, there won't be enough middle-schoolers to go round.
Who else but Steyn'll give you stuff like: rape-rape-rape-rape?
Memorabiliaizing Miss Tate on a trampoline:
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Aside: She's no Sharon Tate, but I do have a favorite Estrich piece.
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