Aristotle Sexually Harassed Me

She screamed, and it seemed to me like complete jealousy of the mouth towards the anus, and I thought about the unfair discrimination between them

"The male response to #MeToo - #TooMuchInformation" (Source)

I dreamed that I was a famous and successful man and women were complaining that I had sexually harassed them. And I panic that no matter what I say, or even dream, it's a story whose ending is written in advance, and I don't want such narratives, because from a literary perspective they are flawed and uninteresting. This is not a tragedy, and it's impossible for my life to be a story written by someone else, and in another genre - inferior, medieval, of a moral tale - that suddenly took over, in the most unaesthetic way, of the complainant out of the machine. And what would Aristotle say, not to mention his epigone - Maimonides - who ruled that the law follows Aristotle in everything below the lunar sphere and to the center of the Earth, meaning including poetics, and therefore such an ending is against the law.

Is there anything I can do that will lead to a different ending? Something that all the genius men, including John Searle, inventor of the "Chinese Room", didn't think of? My brain races between possibilities like a gray mouse trapped in a dead-end trap, and every scenario, every response of the ugly mouse, everything ends the same way. The Kafkaesque situation reminds me of Kafka. He solved this literary problem after all... One must run towards the cat. There's nothing left to lose except losing in an original way. Because here, for example, Searle, the greatest living analytic philosopher, is accused of sexually assaulting a 24-year-old student at the age of 84, and this is going to be the ending of his Wikipedia entry. So my entry will end differently.

And I issue a response to the media: "Yes, I sexually harassed them, and I'm writing this against my lawyers' advice, because it doesn't suit me to hide like a coward behind the legal system, and besides, prison doesn't seem like an adventure to me." And the next day, the responses in the opinion pieces are encouraging: Finally a man who admits, who doesn't smear, who does what feminists think, and is happily willing to pay his debt to the movement. And the next day, encouraged by my success, I post on Facebook:

"#I_didn't_apologize I admit to everything, and I'm ready to detail all my crimes for the benefit of the nation, even those that haven't been complained about yet, as encouragement for #I_didn't_complain, without sparing any shameful detail from my abominable soul. I did the math last night and in total I sexually harassed two hundred women and sexually assaulted fifty, and every day I'll expose here a different harassment story and a new name of someone I harassed who hasn't yet gathered the courage to complain. I will pour out before you, my judges, the whole truth, unlike other men. And I'll start with the complainants.

The truth is, I harassed A because of her fat breasts, which peeked out from a too-small shirt, compressed, miserable, it seemed very funny to me to release them, so I put my hand in and skillfully pulled one of them out, you should have seen her face. Complainant B was flat and ugly, but I harassed her so as not to discriminate, because she looked like a mouse in need of attention, and I just thought I must be the first to ever pay attention to her, and I've always had sympathy for mice (you know I have a mousy body and face, and that's why no one wanted to date me, and that's exactly why I loved harassing elephants).

I harassed complainant C because of her buttocks, inspired by Hanoch Levin [Translator's note: Israeli playwright known for his provocative works] I had read the night before, I couldn't resist hanging a license plate on it. Because she has an ass face, she seemed to me to have a unique topological symmetry: LBBL (Limbs-Butt-Body-Butt-Limbs). And when the curves between the buttocks are much prettier than the face, I preferred to kiss there rather than her mouth. She screamed, and it seemed to me like complete jealousy of the mouth towards the anus, and I thought about the unfair discrimination between them, and the knight in me rebelled against the anus being a victim of the mouth, where everything that enters one comes out the other, only one is an object of desire and the other suffers cultural shaming. And then I licked her there in a Baudelaire-borderline way, and in front of her surprised gaze I quipped: Lashon hara [Translator's note: Hebrew term for derogatory speech about another person] - a terrible sin". And in the comments they write to me: The male response to #MeToo - #TooMuchInformation. #The_apology_is_worse_than_the_crime.

And I continue the next day on Facebook: "This morning I went to the police station and confessed to rape! I raped the famous presenter, wife of the famous politician (despite all the non-identifying details I won't reveal her name here, so you can try to guess, although it's not nice, and thus experience a hint of the pleasure I experienced). When I reached my satisfaction she shouted: No, no! My husband will kill you. But her husband did nothing to me. And they didn't even go to the police. I must mention that I have tapes of her narration in rape cases, which I used to enjoy, how her mouth utters the word "rape" in a spasm. For those interested in the color and shape of her nipples: link in the first comment". And the media goes wild: Rape in the newsroom. No response from the presenter. But the presenter finally responds: "I wasn't raped. I don't remember him touching me at all. I don't know what he's talking about".

And I write: "I have no idea why she chooses to deny what happened. It's probably just because she's uncomfortable with her husband. Maybe she didn't tell him. And maybe there's a darker explanation for the black hole in your memory: you simply repressed it because of the trauma! Sometimes it takes 20 years to remember a rape, studies show that sometimes it takes even 60 years to complain about a rape. I claimed yesterday in my repeated interrogation at the police that there's a need to send her for psychoanalytic treatment at the state's expense where she will remember it as I remember it - as if it was last night, when I fantasized about her again".

And the next day I continue with the media blitz. The news announces that tonight there will be an exclusive interview with the serial harasser (allegedly), the sexual assaulter (allegedly), the controversial rapist (allegedly), who promises to tell this time live the truth and nothing but the truth about the affair that's shaking the country and declares: "Tonight I will reveal the dark secret of my life". And the interviewer asks: You've taken an unconventional approach against the allegations against you, and they say you've buried yourself. Why? And I say: Wow, the idea of self-burial actually really appeals to me! But the truth is that I chose to take the full disclosure approach, and confession in the intimate Facebook cell before the whole world, because I too have gone through what the complainants went through. And the public has the right to judge me, it's the democratic right of each and every one of you to judge me.

- But it seems like you're almost enjoying this!

- Well, that's the joy of wallowing in the despicable that brought me to this in the first place, isn't it? But as with any psychological motive that penetrates deeply (ha!), it didn't just grow out of nowhere, you know. If I hadn't gone through what I went through, I wouldn't have come to this at all, after all if there's anything we've learned from feminism it's that it's a cycle of abuse, and the whole world revolves around finding the first cause, just like in the Middle Ages (Maimonides identified it with God).

And the interviewer asks with fake empathy: Tell us what you went through. And I burst into tears: Yeshayahu Leibowitz [Translator's note: Prominent Israeli intellectual] sexually harassed me! I was an ultra-Orthodox child who came for answers, and I left with questions, hard, piercing, penetrating, to body and soul! I came to ask him about the psychophysical problem, and he raped me - that was his answer. Who could I turn to? Who would believe me. Such an old man, I was just completely paralyzed, I didn't understand what he was doing, when he asked me to take off my pants I thought he would show me the connection between body and soul. And in a way he did show! Even today they won't believe me, and I, like every complainant, just want to be believed, it's our only right, for them to tell us: we believe you. So I understand them. Men are also sexually harassed.

- Wow, in all my years as an interviewer, I don't know what to say. But why didn't you reveal this until today? After all, you were a successful and well-known man.

And I sob: You see, you're just like them! (Choke). After all, everyone knew that all the old men harass, there was a conspiracy of silence, yes, I'll tell everything! (Choke, choke) In all the newspaper systems they knew that Shimon Peres [Translator's note: Former Israeli President and Prime Minister] didn't live with his wife because he was a pedophile, and that Yitzhak Rabin [Translator's note: Former Israeli Prime Minister] raped Leah when she was 15 and he was 22, and that since then he repeatedly raped all his secretaries in his drunkenness. That Agnon [Translator's note: Nobel Prize-winning Israeli author] was a serial butt-grabber of young admirers, while his wife was in depression, and that Gershom Scholem [Translator's note: Prominent scholar of Jewish mysticism] was so deep into BDSM, that he was involved in a murder and abuse case of one of the slaves of Gertrude, his third wife, the Sabbatean (choke choke choke), that's what happens when you delve too deep into the deep secrets of Jewish mysticism - everything turns into pornography.