Sleaze Land – Chapter 2 (It’s a Mad Mad World) Part 2
“He who controls the spice controls the universe.” Frank Herbert
“If we’re handing out sentences, we also have to hand out actual punishments. That’s something I know all about. Trust me. If there are no actual repercussions, then we’ll amount to nothing more than the those we claim to want to expose.”
Emma Jorgenson had been an attorney long enough to know a thing or two about the law.
And she’d been a woman long enough to know a thing or two about men.
“And if these men leave here without any kind of consequences, the next thing we’ll know, they’ll all be crowing about how great they are for turning this shit-show into just another blockbuster hit.”
Emma stared at the rather long list of men (and a few women who’d all played along quite willingly for the other side) as she spoke, and as she knew several of the them personally, she also knew what their egos would turn into - if any of them were let off with a simple wrist slap (much like that Turner kid had been) and the thought was extremely terrifying.
I mean, these weren’t the cream-of-the-crop-people, morally speaking, mind you. These were men (and a few women) who had thrown away any moral code they had once possessed in order to make the money that had been sequestered away by a ‘ruling-class’ made up entirely of rich white folk.
Otherwise… they wouldn’t have made it onto her list.
No, Emma Thompson had hit the nail squarely on the head a few years back, on that BBC special, when she’d called out her entire industry, especially the males, for playing into the Weinstein Epidemic.
And still… none of them had done a goddamn thing about any of it.
In fact, her once-favorite Hollywood director's response to the whole Weinstein and #metoo movement, had been to make a movie titled ‘The Gentlemen’ and then proceeded to populate it with an all-male cast, even though none of them could (even when put to the screws) give a proper definition of the word 'gentlemen'.
And then he followed that up with another all-male movie titled ‘The Wrath of Man’.
Because obtuseness of this caliber had been allowed to reign in Hollywood for so long, they had all developed a severe myopia when it came to blatant hypocrisy.
Emma sighed, and then thought again about the line-up of defendants, and once again contemplated getting them a second defending attorney. Because the only one she’d cast so far had barely begun to work his way through that long list, and quite honestly only seemed half-way-interested in the process to begin with.
Still, she had promised the man’s wife not to let him get too ravaged by the trials, not because he was such a great man or anything, but simply because his wife had done her absolute damnedest to convince Emma he really was a family man... deep-deep down, underneath his pocketbook, with the Miley Cyrus nudes hidden inside the deepest pocket.
“He did what he had to do to bring home a paycheck,” His wife had told Emma the last time they’d spoken.
“Look, Kate, I have to deal to everyone on this list. And I didn’t make the list, as you know - that came down from on-high. But I can wiggle the numbers a little. I can try to soften the blow. But if he steps one goddamn mother fucking toe out of line… I’ll make him pay for every pretend rape he’s ever benefitted from. Ya?”
His wife, Kate, had swallowed hard at that, Emma had heard it over the phone.
But it didn’t matter. Because everyone involved with the trial had been burned, and most of them by sexual assault, so… heads were gonna roll, one way or the other – because everyone with a vagina was just goddamn mother fucking tired of the bystanders selling hotdogs and side-show tickets to their fucking downfall.
It was a disgrace, and anyone with a son knew it. Hell... anyone that's had to explain why simulated rape and violent porn was toxic to a twelve-year-old knew… our society was so fucking far off track it wasn’t funny.
And if anymore goddamn heads were gonna hit the chopping block – by God – this time it was gonna be those responsible.
One way or ta other.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” Emma said then, as the person on the other end of her Bluetooth suddenly inquired if she’d passed on, or something.
“I appreciate the thought. Yes, I think using the witch trials are a very good idea. I mean, obviously we’re not going to actually drown anyone under loads of bricks – but we certainly can make them think we are.”
Emma smiled then, smiled at something she recalled Ms. Patmore from 'Downton Abbey' having said once, how fear can often bring out the best in people.
“Why, yes. I think we should consider these the Fear Trials from now on. Tell the team. Have them all start coming up with memorable punishments for ALL of our sinners.”
© Raena Exe 2021
*Inspired by life.
*All characters, places, and events are completely fictional.
*All rights reserved.
Enter a story title, chapter number, or even a keyword to search my entire library.
The year is 2024, and after two pandemics and a flood, the Moral Majority has decided to hold a trial. A trial to demonstrate to the world the corrosive nature of unregulated capitalism. Only this trial is being run by those who simply cannot see past the ways of their patriarchal