【Tina Tyler Archives】

Another day,Tina Tyler Archives another alleged predator exposed in Hollywood's ever-widening sexual abuse crisis.

Except Louis C.K. wasn't supposed to be just another asshole. Up until the rumors got too loud to ignore, he was the voice for a certain segment of progressive America. He was the Guy Who Says What We're All Thinking.

SEE ALSO: Louis C.K. accused of sexual misconduct by five women in New York Times story There's a big gap between what people say and what they do, and we're fools to forget it

But not in the way that Donald Trump is the Guy Who Says What We're All Thinking. The Trump version of That Guy thinks we're all thinking the same racist, misogynistic, homophobic crap that he is, and that only over-sensitive social norms keep everyone else from acknowledging it.

The C.K. version seemed like a guy who genuinely didn't want to be racist, misogynistic, or homophobic, who's willing to hear what others have to say, who sincerely strives to live up to progressive ideals. He doesn't always succeed, but hey, he means well.

C.K. made himself That Guy not by being self-congratulatory, but by exploring dark, unflattering truths in his work – even if that meant making himself the villain here and there.

Take his bit on "mild racism" from his Saturday Night Livemonologue in 2015:

As they say, it's funny because it's true. It's refreshing to hear someone admit it for a change, with an appropriate level of embarrassment, instead of piously insisting that they'd never think such a thing because they "don't see color."

Which is not to say that C.K. kept his comedy mild and agreeable. C.K. delighted in crossing lines, just so that he could find a way to tiptoe back.

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Listen to the groans that follow his "why did the chicken cross the road" joke below (answer: because a black guy was walking behind him) and then the cheers later on, as he ends the monologue by poking fun at himself for his own white privilege.

C.K. seemed to be the guy who got it. More specifically, he seemed to be the straight middle-aged white man who got itin a way that too few of his cohorts did. And C.K. would sometimes use his voice to help others get ittoo.

Like in this Louiescene, wherein a lighthearted poker game turns into a serious and earnest conversation about (among other things) the f-word and whether it's ever okay for a comedian to say it onstage.

But typically, his approach was saltier and more direct – and more geared toward getting laughs. In one of his standup specials, he mocks pearl-clutching parents who oppose gay marriage because "What do I tell my children?" "I don't know, it's your shitty kid," he says, exasperated. "Two guys are in love but they can't get married because you don't want to talk to your ugly child for fucking five minutes?"

In another, he riffed on the danger of dating for women, emphasizing that "there is no greater threat to women than men." It was hilarious then. It's less hilarious now that we know C.K. was one of the predators all along.

C.K. could even be astute about his own hypocrisies (and by extension our own). He mined comedy gold from the uncomfortable gap between what we know we're supposed to believe, and on our best days, actually do; and what we can't help but think or do when we think no one's looking.

It's not that C.K. was ever infallible. Even if rumors of his misconduct never reached your ears, you may have heard C.K.'s defense of Daniel Tosh's rape joke or felt queasy about the rape episode of Louieor side-eyed the use of the n-word and the c-word in his work. You may have wondered if some of his jokes, even his generally well received ones, crossed the line and stayed there.

By and large, though, C.K. built his success on his knack for saying the right things. He gave voice to our own frustrations at the idiocies and inequalities of modern society, turning that bitterness into art. He projected an image of cantankerous righteousness, and we saw ourselves reflected in it.

So what does it tell us when it turns out that image has been false all along, and that so many of us – knowingly, unknowingly, or somewhere in between – helped him prop it up?

It says there's a big gap between what people say and what people do, and that we're fools to forget it. It's a warning that just because someone understands rape culture or microaggressions doesn't mean they're on the right side of it. It's a reminder that people can make great art – clever, cathartic, even crucial art – while doing ugly things. That the former should not excuse the latter. That unchecked power so often gets abused.

But while we're reconsidering C.K.'s image, let's also take a good hard look at our own: at all the hypocrisies we allow ourselves and our loved ones, at what we let slide when it comes to people like C.K., and at the suffering it causes when we do.


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