As a grade schooler in the '60s, I owned several comedy records by Bill Cosby and loved them. In 1966 four cousins spent the entire summer with my family, and we kids endlessly repeated these routines for each other. I can recite most of them to this day.
My father developed pancreatic cancer in 1970 when I was twelve. One of the last fun things we did together before he was bedridden was attend a live Cosby performance here in St. Louis at Kiel Auditorium. Cosby was even more hilarious in person, performing some material I have never seen or heard since.
About that same time, I bought another Cosby album entitled "200 MPH." The title routine is about Cosby's love of fast cars, and total lack of knowledge about them. "Fill 'er up, that's what I know" he explains. "One time the attendant couldn't find the where the gas tank was. I didn't know where it was either. He said 'Maybe if I just pour it on the car, it'll suck in somewhere.'"
The routine goes on to explain that Carroll Shelby learns of Cosby's love of fast cars and builds Cosby a supercharged Cobra, promising him the car will exceed 200 MPH. (This routine, like many of Cosby's, is based on real events.)
At the end of this hilarious routine, the car so terrifies Cosby that he tells the Shelby American driver who delivered the car to give it to George Wallace.
For a twelve year old kid who dreamed of owning a 427 Cobra, this was the Holy Grail of comedy routines.
Fast forward to the fall of 1977. I'm in the parking lot of a shopping mall outside Amherst, Massachusetts, where I was a Junior in college. Walking to my car, I spot a vehicle I have never seen before, either on the road or in pictures. It has a Porsche emblem on its nose. Staying at least two feet away, and never touching the car, I examine it from every possible angle. Finally I lie down on the ground to inspect the exhaust system to try and learn more about what kind of engine is in the car. A pair of shoes comes into view near my head and the owner asks "Can I help you?"
"What is this?" I respond, standing up and looking at the man. It's Bill Cosby.
"It's a car." No smile, nothing.
"Do you know where the gas cap is on this one?", I ask with a grin.
"GET LOST," he tells me, with a face full of anger if not hatred.
I nodded once and walked away. Maybe he was just having a bad day, but it should have been obvious that I was a fan. BTW the car was a 928, one of the first dozen or so in the country.
After that incident, I began to notice an undercurrent of hostility during Cosby interviews on television. When the news came out about the rapes, it all fit.
As to the documentary itself, one of my complaints about it, and about some of the commenters, is grouping Cosby with the likes of Harvey Weinstein, Roger Ailes, Matt Lauer, etc.
No no no! Those other men may be guilty of being boorish, or cads, or "sexually harassing" women, or whatever, but there is a world of difference between a powerful producer pointing his finger at the casting couch and giving the would-be starlet a knowing look, and drugging a woman's drink and then raping her while she's unconscious.
As many people have pointed out, there are many, many attractive women who are perfectly willing to have sex with rich, successful, famous, influential men, either for a potential career benefit, or even just for the experience itself.
Furthermore, if normal sex doesn't do it for you, and having sex with women while they're unconscious is your particular kink, there are certainly attractive women who will gladly agree to that for a fee that is absolutely trivial to someone making millions of dollars a month or whatever.
Someone, ANYONE involved in Cosby's businesses should have recognized that fact and acted on it, to both safeguard the goose laying the golden eggs, and to protect hundreds of innocent women from irreparable emotional harm.
Second criticism of the documentary: almost nothing about WHY Cosby's son Ennis was murdered. Just like Cosby's rape proclivities, rumors have circulated for years about why Ennis was killed. I wanted to see that issue addressed in some way in the documentary.
My father developed pancreatic cancer in 1970 when I was twelve. One of the last fun things we did together before he was bedridden was attend a live Cosby performance here in St. Louis at Kiel Auditorium. Cosby was even more hilarious in person, performing some material I have never seen or heard since.
About that same time, I bought another Cosby album entitled "200 MPH." The title routine is about Cosby's love of fast cars, and total lack of knowledge about them. "Fill 'er up, that's what I know" he explains. "One time the attendant couldn't find the where the gas tank was. I didn't know where it was either. He said 'Maybe if I just pour it on the car, it'll suck in somewhere.'"
The routine goes on to explain that Carroll Shelby learns of Cosby's love of fast cars and builds Cosby a supercharged Cobra, promising him the car will exceed 200 MPH. (This routine, like many of Cosby's, is based on real events.)
At the end of this hilarious routine, the car so terrifies Cosby that he tells the Shelby American driver who delivered the car to give it to George Wallace.
For a twelve year old kid who dreamed of owning a 427 Cobra, this was the Holy Grail of comedy routines.
Fast forward to the fall of 1977. I'm in the parking lot of a shopping mall outside Amherst, Massachusetts, where I was a Junior in college. Walking to my car, I spot a vehicle I have never seen before, either on the road or in pictures. It has a Porsche emblem on its nose. Staying at least two feet away, and never touching the car, I examine it from every possible angle. Finally I lie down on the ground to inspect the exhaust system to try and learn more about what kind of engine is in the car. A pair of shoes comes into view near my head and the owner asks "Can I help you?"
"What is this?" I respond, standing up and looking at the man. It's Bill Cosby.
"It's a car." No smile, nothing.
"Do you know where the gas cap is on this one?", I ask with a grin.
"GET LOST," he tells me, with a face full of anger if not hatred.
I nodded once and walked away. Maybe he was just having a bad day, but it should have been obvious that I was a fan. BTW the car was a 928, one of the first dozen or so in the country.
After that incident, I began to notice an undercurrent of hostility during Cosby interviews on television. When the news came out about the rapes, it all fit.
As to the documentary itself, one of my complaints about it, and about some of the commenters, is grouping Cosby with the likes of Harvey Weinstein, Roger Ailes, Matt Lauer, etc.
No no no! Those other men may be guilty of being boorish, or cads, or "sexually harassing" women, or whatever, but there is a world of difference between a powerful producer pointing his finger at the casting couch and giving the would-be starlet a knowing look, and drugging a woman's drink and then raping her while she's unconscious.
As many people have pointed out, there are many, many attractive women who are perfectly willing to have sex with rich, successful, famous, influential men, either for a potential career benefit, or even just for the experience itself.
Furthermore, if normal sex doesn't do it for you, and having sex with women while they're unconscious is your particular kink, there are certainly attractive women who will gladly agree to that for a fee that is absolutely trivial to someone making millions of dollars a month or whatever.
Someone, ANYONE involved in Cosby's businesses should have recognized that fact and acted on it, to both safeguard the goose laying the golden eggs, and to protect hundreds of innocent women from irreparable emotional harm.
Second criticism of the documentary: almost nothing about WHY Cosby's son Ennis was murdered. Just like Cosby's rape proclivities, rumors have circulated for years about why Ennis was killed. I wanted to see that issue addressed in some way in the documentary.
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