Hmmm. Cloudy day today here in West Hollywood. I am sitting at a sushi restaurant on Sunset Strip with my dear pal, Phil DeMuth, world’s most reliable human. The food is fine and Phil’s conversation is brilliant, as always. He is a super-smart analyst of family life and intergenerational dynamics. He and I often talk of our fears for the generations now in school or recently out of school, and how little they seem to know. They especially know little end of their feelings of entitlement.
We often talk about that woman at Columbia who carried a mattress around with her for a long time to mark what she called a rape. That was her senior thesis. Yes. At Columbia, my college alma mater.
Yes, the NYPD found no evidence of rape. The school found no cause to believe there had been a rape. But some worthy faculty member had told her she could get academic credit for carrying around a mattress and repeatedly demanding that the man she said had raped her be punished.