Blather. Rinse. Repeat

 

This is an email I sent after listening to more of Mr. Maron's older podcasts, and feeling ill at how free he felt to speak openly about exploiting much younger girls, how he was "resolving" their issues, and in the same breath make fun of them for those painful issues.  He would make fun of their behavior, laughing at their expense.  He was purposely picking broken girls, girls who were at an age he refers to as being a "child," when he speaks of himself, or even his own parents, at that same age.  A girl that age would never think to look at a 46 yr-old man unless she had experienced the very type of sexualization that creates the exact problems Maron then makes fun of them for having. Publicly.  He has made money getting laughs about the mental and emotional issues that are inherently going to be present in the very girls who are programmed to respond to grooming old men like Maron.   

Yeah.  Things haven't changed.  They may be worse.  Shit, it is no surprise at all to me that teen girls are self-harming and killing themselves at higher rates than ever.  Nobody is protecting them.  

Anyway, here is an email I sent as I was contemplating these sick truths last Oct.:

"Blather. Rinse. Repeat.

Oct 6, 2022, 7:26 AM

If you walk around thinking your dick is a supportive resolving essence unto itself, I can start to maybe understand a couple of problems you display or even speak openly about. First, I bet you don't think of yourself as a "flasher." I bet you think that you were giving that girl on the set in Canada a "gift," a chance to be "helped" by the maron meat. Setting aside the absolutely gross and degrading emotional trauma such perverted behavior causes the victim, there is nothing about your dick that has ever helped anyone solve anything emotionally. Ever. And this brings me to the second problem. The broken girls you love to be "daddy" to, think you are offering to love them forever in a real, true way, which is the healing they are longing for. Telling them you are "resolving" their "daddy" issues sounds like you are offering to step in and give them unconditional love forever, which is at the root of the very real issues they need to resolve. They have already been objectified, sexualized, and abandoned. They assume you must want to give them what they missed out on, the real, unconditional, non-sexualized love they need. You are grooming them to let you repeat the abuse already done to them. Of fucking course they glom onto you and do everything they can to keep you from abandoning them. That is the promise you made to them by using the word "resolve," by telling them they are special and mind-blowing, by getting them to tell you stories of how each of them experienced abuse. You made the promise to "resolve" their pain. You wrote that word into your jokes. You have said it publicly. The broken girls truly believe if you were just going around re-abusing young girls, society would have gotten you in trouble long ago, an old celebrity who has been doing this for decades. No wonder you have had stalking problems and are always trying to extricate yourself from a toxic relationship. Your basic "resolving daddy issues" dogwhistle is a blatant grooming lie, set up to draw in the broken child, and their broken mind cannot deal with having to see you were only abusing them exactly as their abuser already had abused them. That breaks them into even more destroyed pieces, and you do not give a shit. You are creating damage you cannot begin to understand, all so you can get off on their original pain. You have no call to ever blame a broken girl for the way she acts to try and keep you from leaving. You caused this, as the old man who knows exactly what he is doing. You have the age, the power, the status (a celebrity for a long time, and now you're in kids movies, mother fucker), and the expertise at phrasing your grooming dogwhistles. You, your dick, and your predatorial beliefs have never, and will never, support or heal anyone. Ever. Read it again: You, your dick, and your predatorial beliefs have never, and will never, support or heal anyone. Ever. Think this again. Say it to yourself again. Lather. Rinse, Repeat."

"Well, hell"

 This post will include a paragraph from the first email I sent to wtfpod.com after my millennial moment.  At that point, I think I was hopeful that Mr. Maron might say he was unaware of how much damage he was doing.  I figured he was that decent man who had made a point of explaining how he quit using the "R" word after someone took the time to tell him how it made them feel.  I was hoping his behavior toward girls with BPD, caused by sexual exploitation, was something he hadn't thought deeply about.  I wanted to give him a chance to respond, as I knew he had done for others who took the time to ask him about important issues surrounding trauma and mental health.  I truly did not want to have to realize he was choosing to behave in predatory ways toward victims of abuse.

I never got any email response to my "Well, hell," message at all.  But there was a response to another message that had been sent to him, a message from an adult who had no idea how the next 8 months was going to play out, and prefers to remain anonymous, as there was a picture involved.  Mr. Maron's response to that message made up my mind for me.

One other thing did occur right after I sent "Well, hell," and I guess it could have been in direct response to my email, but I have no way of knowing for certain. It was a post by Mr. Maron, within hours of "Well, hell," and the timing was brought to my attention later, by one of 3 individuals I personally know, who were made aware of all this a few months back, and gave me some advice and outside perspective on everything.   

I am only including one paragraph from "Well, hell," because there is some mentions of other people in the rest of the email who have no bearing on anything.  This one paragraph expresses where I was at, before my eyes started adjusting to the darkness of the rabbit hole I had just entered.  

"Aug 30, 2022, 10:01 PM

Mr. Maron,

This week, a woman was telling me her opinion about you, and I was sure she had to be full of shit. Now, I just wish she had kept her mouth shut. There were things I was missing about some of your personal choices, and I would like to still be clueless. Ignorance is bliss. But my history means I am now totally "triggered" by things I can no longer unsee. They are things that are obviously unimportant to your followers, and to you, but I am losing something here, and it makes me sad."

Restorative Justice

I sent this email, to try and give Mr. Maron a brief glimpse of all that is stolen, and the further damage he creates, by re-exploiting young victims of child sexual abuse.  

"Sep 13, 2022, 4:03 PM

Mr. Maron,

This one's going to be long.  And it is going to be me, doing something I have witnessed other broken people like me get to do, but have never been able to experience myself.  If you have read my emails up until now, you will recognize how my writing style includes introductive and interruptive breaks to set up and more completely explain what I am trying to express.  A lifetime of coerced silence, and an inability to communicate verbally with any skill at all, is why my writing comes out the way it does.  You will either click this straight into the trash file, read it and tear it apart in every way possible while deriding it, or read it and perhaps catch a glimpse of a viewpoint I don't believe you have ever seen before.  I do not need to know what you choose to do.  That is not the point.

Some people get to confront those who hurt them in a situation called "Restorative Justice."  There's a lot of ways this has been implemented in various survivor groups and court systems throughout this country.  I have seen this in action once.  For reasons that include my own safety, I will never get to experience this.  I have always had a basic outline in my head of some things I would want to contribute if I was participating in this process, though, and I will put those words here.  

Why would I do this here, to you?  For a number of reasons.  First, I can maybe, just a very tiny little bit, help you catch a glimpse of what gets stolen in this society every time a broken young person has their worth further sexualized during their interactions with adults.  What gets stolen is immeasurable, irreplaceable, and because once stolen it never gets to exist, invisible.  Our society as a whole does not seem to understand what is being stolen at all, and cares even less.  But I like to think that the man walking onto the stage for "End Times Fun," the man who cares for stray/feral cats who show up within his home radius, the man who knew he was becoming a better human while finally experiencing real love, would not reject getting to glimpse some of what is stolen from certain people in society.  Second, I feel that you, as a person who has publicly felt like it is okay to "date" many broken young women/girls and made others laugh while joking about it, might be edified if you can try to actually see some of the hidden truths behind the falsified myths in so many male minds.  And third, I do not have anything to lose.  I am already seen as a slut, my kids are now adults and do not have my last name, and I will feel a bit better if I send this, regardless of what you do with it.   

Little aside here (bet it drives you nuts how I do shit like this in my writing.  Sorry...).  I have a wager with my muse.  I am betting you are never going to read this, and you will eventually let yourself believe that my emails made no sense at all, and you will continue to live your life as you have chosen, with no concern for any damage that happens to certain groups of people.  My muse thinks you might actually read this, and maybe even start to understand a bit, or at least try.  Whoever wins this bet gets to drink a can of cold mango nectar, a sugar-filled delight I never buy, because of the added syrup.  As you may have already deduced, I will have no idea what you have chosen to do.  So, when I finish this and hit send, I am simply going to go purchase a can of this ambrosiac drink, and as I consume it later, I will know one part of my brain won, one part of my brain lost, and my taste buds won't give a shit.

Still with me?  Here we go:

The first time the principal fucked me, he got mad afterward, and sharply asked, "Where's the blood?"  I never had told him all that had happened to me.  I had just answered yes when he asked me if my father had molested me, which was when he first took me under his wing, so to speak.  I was not anywhere near ready back then, to put into actual words what had occurred throughout my childhood.  But I wrote a poem a few hours after he asked that question.  I was remembering a slide on a playground when I was 5, a spiral one, as I wrote this. I wrote it in red pen.  I never shared it with anyone until I was in my 40's.  Here it is:

Slide
by Judy S. Lentz

Drop away beneath me in
breath snatching glee
Is the laughter beating in my ears
from me?
The mirrored slope descending
Sheets of silver floating down
Invisible windfingers lift my hair
the breath of a clown
Whose hand trails behind me, streaking
blood where I slid down

One down, two to go.

When I was around 19, I had started joining a friend in doing some amateur strip dancing.   After she and I got raped by 3 guys, I started to realize that perhaps I had been sent off into the world by my father with a sucky set of work skills.  I wrote this:

 Strip Tease
by
Judy S. Lentz

I would start with my hair
take it off like a wig
throw it into that hole

you once made me dig

Next, it's the feet
that failed to run
rip each one off slowly
smile when I'm done

Now for the skin
it's easy to peel
off layers of pigment
with nerves made to feel

Out seeps old blood
a dark, stagnant flow
from a heart that ceased
doing its job long ago

The muscle and fat
that created my form
comes off in great lumps
odorous, barely warm

Skeletal fingers grab
ahold of dead eyes
rip the orbs from skewed holes
as lungs heave relieved sighs

Unholy lips are torn
from a face
that has longed for the time it
is finally erased

Exposed teeth gnaw at fingers
tear away at each hand
shake them off violently
no one cares where they land

A deformed mass of
doughy gray matter
slips out of the skull
hits the ground with a splatter

Bones tense up, shiver
turn to dust, drop defiled
into dry shattered tear drops
unshed by a child

Okay here I am
daddy what will you do
this last time your child stands
raw before you

Alright only one more.  On my 18th birthday, I got to perform my first adult legal signature when I stood as a witness for my friend's wedding at a justice of the peace.  I remember looking at her and her boyfriend and recalling her telling me about her "first time," which was his first time, too.  I remembered the years of watching them and other couples date in high school.  And for the first time, on that day I turned 18, I thought that if I had never experienced my childhood and teenage, there was probably a guy somewhere out there that I might have done the whole wedding thing with.  I wrote this poem for that unknown guy, on my 18th birthday.  I was thinking of my father a little, but mostly of the adventist principal, as the ones who owed the debt in the poem.  That birthday was just the very tiny beginning of me starting to realize that if the principal had been a woman who cared about me, I might have started experiencing a better life.  Of course, it was only when my kids hit high school that I really understood how important the first adults are who interact with broken teens like I was.  One decent teacher can truly save those kids and change their lives.  One man like the principal, and a life of hell is set in stone.

I may have written this poem for that unknown boy when I was 18, but when I found and reread this poem in my 40's, I realized it was also for me:

High Noon
by 
Judy S. Lentz

There is a man out there
To whom you owe a debt
If he knew all that he had lost
I know what you would get

You stole his high school sweetheart
You took their special dance
That kiss goodnight outside the house
He never had a chance

He never took her driving
They never shared the heat
Of teenage fumbling passion
In a fogged-up car's back seat

The gift of his engagement ring
Never made her smile
He never knew the joy of walking
Her down some church aisle

He never saw their children
Or shared their family
He never got the chance
To grow old and gray with me

Somewhere there is a man to whom
A lifetime's debt you owe
But he won't ever call you out
Because he'll never know

Yeah.  Well.  Okay.

I'm gonna go drive to town for that nectar.  May have to wait awhile to get it past this damn lump in my throat that showed up unexpectedly as I did a quick read-over.

If you made it this far, thanks.

Sigh Lentz"

Grooming

 

My upcoming blog posts will sometimes contain the names of people who have recently been on Mr. Maron's WTF podcast.  I have zero affiliation with any of these people I may mention, and only use their actual names because they were a public part of Mr. Maron's recent interviews that dealt directly with the subject of child sexualization/objectification and exploitation.  These people have zero personal connection to me, my blog, or my views.  I mean these people absolutely no offense.  I deeply appreciate their willingness to openly speak about this personal and painful subject.  Current and future victims can only be spared future pain if those old enough to fully comprehend their past experiences can be free to speak of those experiences without fear of blame or re-exploitation. 

I sincerely enjoy Mr. Maron's gift for comedy.  That hasn't changed.  My respect for some of his behavioral choices dropped dramatically after my millennial moment.  That drop quickly infused my writing in the emails I sent to wtfpod.com.  

My tendency toward sarcastic writing as a way to vent anger and pain can be seen throughout these words I sent.  Writing is the only way I have ever been able to coherently express anything I am feeling, as my ability to vocalize such emotions is almost non-existent.  This all ended up giving my emails a tone that is more often found in those letters people are told to write, and then burn, in order to process the hurtful experiences they have gone through.  If there were no current or future victims in harms way because of Mr. Maron's behavioral choices, that is probably where these emails would have ended up, as smoke and ashes drifting up from that digital cloud where these words were origanlly sent.  Of course, if there were no such current or potential future victims, these emails wouldn't have been written in the first place.

My emails to Mr. Maron quickly took on a form of writing I have never before naturally employed.  A sort of stream-of-consciousness, geared toward 2nd person, a point of view I have rarely used, and didn't appreciate much.   

The following is an email I sent to Mr. Maron on Sept 20, 2022, 7:16 AM, subject line "Imagined Scenarios."

"Mr. Maron,

You often mention your ability to imagine scenarios inside your mind. Because of that, I think you might have the capacity to follow some guided imagery. Let's give it a go, 'kay?

We are starting with the moment Bradley Whitford began to tell you about his experience with child sexual abuse. Place yourself back in that moment when you were with him as he did this. Remember his spoken cadence, tone, facial expressions. Hear how he was no longer vocalizing in a manner normal for him. Hear how the child he once was, is actually present in his voice. Can you do this? It might be easier if you make yourself relisten to that part of the interview. Close your eyes and let yourself really hear, and listen to, how that broken child from those moments of abuse is still in there, in the adult voice of Mr. Whitford. Hear how that child was trying to describe the worst parts of what was actually happening to that child during the abuse. Mr. Whitford was describing, in the voice of that child, the worst part of child sexual abuse. Little, trusting, naive young Bradley, thought that what was happening was actually something special, something teetering on real emotions, something that was meaningful. That child was trusting a person everyone in society tells children they can trust. That child was not at all able to see, in the moments of the abuse, that he was being horribly harmed because the person who was harming him did not at all feel anything decent or loving for that child. That person was using their power, their position, their appearance of maturity in society, to fuck with the body of a child, all while conning that child into thinking what was happening was special. There is no way that child could ever know what was really happening, how they were being conned completely into allowing a person to use their body. As years pass, this is the worst thing that happens to survivors of sexual abuse. They slowly come to realize how the reason they did not say "No," the reason they did not run or fight, the reason the child could be used at all, is because they really thought what was happening was "love." It is only with maturity that sexual abuse survivors can ever hope to come to understand all of this, and this realization is the pain that gets worse over time, not better. The understanding of how they were harmed hurts more and more, the older a person gets. And abuse survivors cannot risk saying how this is the worst part of the lifelong damage they carry, because the minute they admit they thought it was a "special" thing that was happening to them while they were being abused, people tell them that they caused the abuse, because they wanted it. Bradley Whitford was trying to explain all of this, in a small way, in the broken words and heart of a child.  

Abuse survivors are ripped to pieces by this. It is why the abuse of children and vulnerable and damaged people is so insidious and cruel. Unless the abuse is a violent attack that causes only pain, an abuse survivor feels like they were not really abused, because they did not say no. The person in power knows damn well their abuse victim is trusting them, that victim does not understand what is happening. That is what predators do. They seek out those too young or damaged to know what the predator is really doing.

Now, I am going to walk you through something that a straight man might have a hard time understanding. Please, try to follow the imagery while leaving your own sexual orientation out of it.

Imagine Bradley Whitford, trying to tell this story to a counselor, or a college professor, or a pastor, or a comedian doing a podcast. The moment Mr. Whitford starts telling the story, he actually re-enters the part of him that is that broken child. He re-enters the pain, the vulnerability, the naivete, as he tells the story. The person who is listening reaches out and touches Bradley's shoulder, and pulls him into their arms. Mr. Whitford will probably cry, and the child he once was will lean in to try and find the comfort that broken child needed so badly. Now the counselor/teacher/pastor/comedian, does something that makes the broken child in Bradley respond as the child he once was. Things become sexual. 

Let's stop right here. When did things actually become sexual in this scenario? The moment the person listening started to listen, they already knew what was going to happen. They knew Bradley would be entering his child frame of mind, he would be that broken child, needing to feel real love. But that child still believes that what the abuser did was love. So Bradley will be responding to the "compassion" shown by the person listening to their pain. For the counselor/pastor/teacher/comedian, the whole situation was sexual, from the moment they leaned in to listen to a story that they knew was going to turn them, as the predator, on. For Mr. Whitford, it is just him, trying to get comfort in the way that child first thought they were experiencing love and comfort. So, the age of the counselor/pastor/teacher/comedian is actually irrelevant. If this scenario had been what happened after Mr. Whitford's talk with you, you would be the predator, even though Mr. Whitford is older than you. He has a broken part of himself that will always be at risk of being redamaged by any person who uses that child's pain to get sexual pleasure in the guise of comfort and compassion. Please, reread the last two sentences over and over. Print them out and put them on your bathroom mirror. Say them like a fucking mantra. EVERY broken female that you have fucked because you knew how they were broken, is a person you victimized, as surely as it would have been you victimizing Mr. Whitford if you had turned the moments after his interview into a trip to your fucking bed.

Try to really sit with this.  

I have more to type, but whatever is guiding me or pushing me or driving me to send these emails says this is enough for now. I hope you will reread this email until you truly understand it.

Sigh Lentz"

Watersheds and Rabbit Holes

 About a year ago, I ventured back online a bit.  It was the first time I started experiencing some positive feelings in a long time.  I got a Samantha Gibb sticker to put on my old classical guitar, and a great Gibb Collective t-shirt, with the wonderfully spare yet beautiful rendering of Maurice' trademark black Trilby, purchased last summer.  I drank coffee out of mugs with Girl in the Woods' dogs, "Moose" and "Da Woof," on the side.  I found one of my kids' old School of Rock guitar picks, was even starting to play a little again.  I got a new honest-to-goddess record player, and dug out some ancient albums.  I was catching up on the comedy specials I had missed, during my years of avoiding the internet and having no cable.   During one particular comedy special, I laughed, for real, for the first time since I couldn't remember when.  It was a Marc Maron special.  He has a gift for comedy.  His tour was bringing him to a town near me, and I was gonna see my first live comedy show in the fall.

Sometimes I have moments happen that in hindsight, I recognize were watershed moments.  Such a moment happened to me late last summer, and it changed the trajectory of my next 8+ months.  I now think of it as "The Millennial Moment."  I was getting gas.  A person around the age of my children was doing the same.  She mentioned she was from the town where Mr. Maron would be performing soon.  I mentioned I planned to see Maron's show there.  

The look on this person's face changed.  Her physical being and aura changed.  She was someone who would be listened to.  (Omg, I just realized that was her self-agency surrounding her space.)  She said I was old enough to know Mr. Maron's history, how he popularized the fucked-up joke, "That's why there's a law."  (I did remember that joke.  I did not recognize Mr. Maron, now, as the one who told it when I first saw it performed on TV decades before.  It was a joke my father and the sda principal both had told a version of.) She said Mr. Maron was now on tiktok, because that was where his preferred dating pool now was, the average user age there not even allowed to see a Maron show alone, so were not part of his target audience.  (That changed toward the end of his recent tour.  He got PG ratings.  His material didn't change, just his potential audience.)  She said he dated much closer to teenage than his own age.  She ended by telling me I was a poor excuse for a feminist.  I could literally picture the mic-drop meme that was her exit, as she got in her car and drove away.

I was angry at that millennial for interrupting my recent ability to enjoy parts of life again.  I had never been publicly categorized as a Gen-Xer by an exasperated millennial to my face before, and it had landed.  I planned to wipe her words from my head, and forget I ever met her.  It was not to be.  I despise people who refuse to look at actual evidence, simply because they decide they like an asshole politician or preacher, or anyone they choose to blindly trust, when real evidence is shown to them.  So, I had to give things a once-over. I had to see if that millenial's words were true. I entered a rabbit hole, and was hit with pain that is very personal, to me and other's like me.  

I very much respect that person who modeled agency and frank honesty for me, at that gas station last August.  I learned from her.

Hurts to see, because I know

 The adventist principal, who realized right away I was a 13 yr-old girl with "daddy issues," is on social media now.  At one point, he belonged to 2 FB support groups for teens who had been sexually exploited.  Acting so understanding, saying the words that draw in broken teens, buddying up to the ones he was attracted to.  (This is otherwise known as grooming, something I will expand on in future posts, as I think people are picturing a howler monkey or mother cat picking fleas off their babies, whenever they read the word "grooming."  Grooming is the act of subtly saying or doing things that can be said to be an innocent slip, but are calculated to draw in sexually exploited victims.  It can happen in front of everyone, and other adults refuse to see it or admit what it is.  Very damn similar to "dog-whistling.")  It was hard for me to discover that predator principal was still doing what he had done to me and many others in the '80s.  He is still at it.  That hurts my heart.  I know how those girls are being lied to and conned by him in private.  I know how they already feel like they are to blame for being sexualized.   I know how he will convince them he cares, and later, when they are suicidal or slicing up their own skin because they were so bad and crazy they could not keep him, and did not deserve his love, he will show absolutely zero concern for them.  In 40 years, some of these girls may understand things the way I now understand things.  They may, at that point, spot other sexualized children being re-exploited, and it will hurt them.  But many of them will be in much worse circumstances than I am, filled with pain and self-hatred, unable to make sense out of anything, trying to find comfort or escape with substance abuse and other destructive behaviors. And no predator ever gives a shit that this will be their victims' futures. That principal does not at all care about how he solidified the damage my father started in me, set me up for a lifetime of pain and dysfunction, how I only just within the past 4 years learned what agency really was, how it meant more than a word represented by the last letter in CIA.  How my lack of it is exactly why I could once again be exploited by yet another goddam therapist, who spent 2 years gaining my trust, and I so badly needed to not have to admit I had once again been conned into trusting yet another human being paid to help me, so I ended up being used and blamed yet again, because it hurts too much to have to admit everyone keeps helping me just so they can fuck me.  The only way I can protect myself is to never go to any human for help again.  They all know they can fuck their clients like me, and nobody will care.  When Brooke Shields recently said she was only just recently developing agency, I felt the truth of that in my soul.    

Children with my history can escape living my fucked up existence, if they are one of the lucky few who actually meet a decent human who will show them how an adult should never be interacting sexually with an exploited child, but instead show that child what decency really looks like.  Decent humans like that are rare for young exploited children to meet.  Men like Mr. Maron sweep in, saying things like "I know you've been hurt.  I can give you what you need," followed by that subtle wink that let's the exploited young person know that now they get sexual, but this time it will be with someone who really cares.  The victim responds as is expected, as they have been trained, all the while thinking "this man will share these secret things with me, but this man is doing it all with love, so I will finally be doing all of this the way it was meant to be done."  They don't know anything else but being exploited.  So now, they think they can have an exploitive interaction with an older man who really loves them.  That is what they are thinking.  If none of that makes sense to you, go hug the adults who raised you.  They are the ones who never programmed that bullshit into your head in the first place.

Here's Why

 Since last Sept, I have been trying to quietly change a problem embedded in our society, in the hopes that I could make a difference.  Like every other systemic power differential, this problem cannot be solved quietly.  To think otherwise is to allow the abuse of power to continue.

When I first published "A Thousand Words," here on my blog, everything changed for me, as a blog creator.  I started receiving awful comments and emails, being told by a couple of people that I knew nothing about real pain or I would have stayed silent, and what needed to really happen to me to make me know my place and shut up, and other comments and shit of that nature.  It was disturbing, so I shut off my comments here, and kept my email hidden.

I am being told my new posts are just me trying to get attention or money or gain of some kind.  I have been avoiding any public attention about this, hoping to make a quiet difference, not wanting to go through everything I would be risking by saying anything publicly.  This problem, the re-exploitation of sexually exploited children that will follow such children everywhere throughout their life, keep them from fulfilling their true potential, or ever developing any self-agency, is an increasing issue that will keep growing if people like me stay silent.  

So, that is why I am creating this new series of blog posts.  I know the comments and questions and accusations I will be getting because I am doing this.  I don't want what's coming.  But who the hell else am I expecting to do it, if I won't do it myself?

Agency

 Adulthood and agency are routinely ascribed to certain children. If a 10 or 12 yr-old asks me to buy them the ingredients for a martini, I cannot say, "This child obviously knows everything about alcohol, so they are responsible, and I can get them drunk, because it is their choice." In fact, a decent adult would ask themselves why a child knows so much about alcohol in the first place, and would realize something in that child's life is not right, and that child was in need of help, not alcohol.  Yet a menstruating or sexualized child is often saddled by a twisted version of blame, a sick kind of blame-deflection, where an adult predator escapes any consequences for sexually exploiting such a child. This is wrong, and it has lifelong consequences for children who are sexualized and objectified, or who simply enter puberty as developing children naturally do, like getting teeth, and growing taller each year.  Sexual abuse, and menstruation, do not suddenly bring any wisdom or agency to a child. They are still a child.  Child sexualization actually destroys the ability to develop any agency. Brooke Shields' new documentary highlights this very truth.

A Real Predator

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26, 2023

A Real Predator

For the last 8 months, I have known something illegal was done by a celebrity I once enjoyed. I have not said or done anything publicly about this, but I can no longer stay silent. A very damaged girl with BPD was recently in crisis, because of this celebrity's exploitation of her, and this girl has online profiles that include at least one picture of a very real gun in her possession (an AMT Backup), along with many posts containing suicidal ideation. I was quiet as another victim of this celebrity was in crisis last October. I can't stay silent a 2nd time, especially when there is a gun in this victim's possession. I could not live with myself if anything happens to this girl. Young girls are harming themselves and killing themselves more than ever, according to a recent NPR report. Mr. Maron regularly gets close to young girls, especially girls in recovery, they think he is kind and decent, he 13-steps and cons then, leaves them suicidal, then he blames them, and calls them crazy, in public, onstage, as part of his job. His latest victim is a broken little girl, whose pic would break your heart, if you don't have the heart of a predator.

There is another girl who this celebrity committed an actual crime against. And I am going to do the right thing by this victim. I am going to do the very thing I always wondered why no one did for me. I am going to speak up. I have no right to wish from others a behavior I let myself be too intimidated to do myself. No, this will not be easy. But that is irrelevant. There are very young, very broken lives at risk. These girls do not at all understand what was/is done to them. They may not, like me, make it to their 40's and 50's, and start to understand what was truly happening, unless I speak up now. And more victims will keep being exploited if no one does anything. Tag, guess I'm it.

The celebrity in question is Marc Maron. I spent the last few years offline, and last spring/summer, I started going back online, binging on youtubers like Girl In the Woods and her husband, as well as skater Brooklinn Khoury's amazing recovery journey. I discovered Barry Gibb's recent release of Greenfields, as well as the Gibb Collective, and very much enjoyed Spencer Gibb's album, Let's Start Over. I also binged on clips/shows of comedians I needed to catch up on, like Kathleen Madigan and Jo Koy, as well as Mr. Maron. I followed a number of these folks on their various social media sites. It was then I discovered Mr. Maron's IG Lives. He made, and saved, a lot. I got to see a few of his Lives in real time, starting with his watermelon caper, which was not saved.  

Last summer, starting on June 29, 2022, Mr. Maron made and posted 4 IG Lives in 2 days. Three of these Lives are here, in the links below. In these three links, Mr. Maron discusses the set he is on, and what he is doing. He mentions working with an Intimacy Coordinator, and at least once, the voice of the Intimacy Coordinator can be heard when she checks on Mr. Maron before a scene.

There was a 4th IG Live, on June 30th, which was removed a couple months later, right after I confronted Mr. Maron in an email regarding that saved Live. (I will post 2 emails at the end of this, the one where I confronted him, and the next one I wrote soon after it, to document when that IG Live in question had been removed from Mr. Maron's Instagram reels.) He started that Live after finishing a Delores Roach scene where he was nearly naked, on a table at some point. He was a bit agitated as he started this Live. He said something had happened, and he wasn't sure what to do. He said after the scene ended, he stayed on the set table until everyone left. He said a girl came in to clean the set, per covid protocol. He said as he was getting up he reached down to move, and his genitals were exposed. He said he had to keep staring at the girl as they were exposed, to see if she had seen. He said that now he didn't know if he should tell the Intimacy Coordinator, or not. He said that last part a couple of times throughout that Live. The last time he said it, he said that because he had said it "here on this Live," it was okay not to tell the Intimacy Coordinator.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CfaP9sGj44k/

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cfb4H0TjTsV/

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CfcBaM9jN5A/

The only person Mr. Maron should have said anything to was the Intimacy Coordinator, and he should have gone to her immediately. He was risking the exposure of the identity of that girl working on set, by saying what he said on his IG Live. Not to mention he should have told the Intimacy Coordinator so she could make sure the girl was not upset by the matter. At least a few hundred Maron IG followers saw him say this in real time, and many more views happened later, until it was removed when I confronted him.

Here is the OMG email I sent to Mr. Maron regarding his behavior:

"From: Judy S. Lentz <XXXXXXXXXXXX>

Date: Sat, Sep 3, 2022, 8:33 PM

Subject: OMG

To: <wtfpod@gmail.com>

You flashed that girl on that set in Canada, didn't you, and then got to keep staring at her to see if she took the bait, then covered your ass by explaining it on instagram live, so you didn't have to talk to the person trying to protect folks on set from people like you. Damn, you are scary good."

Here is the follow up email I sent, when I realized that particular Instagram Reel was removed right after my OMG email was read:

"From: Judy S. Lentz <sighlentz65@gmail.com>

Date: Sun, Sep 4, 2022, 10:07 AM

Subject: OMG followup

To: <wtfpod@gmail.com>

Digitally documenting that between the time I sent the original OMG email last night until this morning, you have removed the saved Canadian set IGLive, which I referenced in that email, from you Instagram account."

Mr. Maron has publicly joked onstage for 30+ years about chasing young girls who have been sexually exploited by their "Daddies," and how he trauma bonds with these girls, and loves how great the sex is with these "crazy" "lunatic" girls who are diagnosed with BPD because of their childhood trauma. He regularly grooms these young broken girls, in many of his IG Lives, and in a few of his first tiktok posts. Underage girls respond to him, and then right there in the replies to other "maron accounts" showing up, often hooking up with these girls, which is talked about right there in those replies under Mr. Maron's posts, and nobody checks to see if it is really Maron in private accounts misusing these girls, or if it is predators who may do the same or worse. These girls are groomed by Mr. Maron, and obviously at risk from him and/or others, and nobody cares.

I thought #me,too, had helped. Instead, the SDA principal who exploited me, starting at 13, because he was looking for those same damn "Daddy Issues," now has more access to girls. Yes, he is online to this day, right along with Marc Maron. And just as when I was 13, nobody cares.

In Sept, Mr. Maron started removing some clips online that I mentioned, clips that show his predatory exploitive behavior that started over three decades ago. But one interview remains. Mr. Maron makes his feelings clear in this interview. Why he is currently marketed for children, I cannot fathom. He made it clear in a recent podcast at the Comedy Store, that the law is why he stops at 18. (Now see, here is an actual predator, who has a popular Thanksgiving book-reading for kids, some of whom he can imagine fucking as soon as they hit 18. And this predator is NOT a drag queen. He is a predator. I truly wish people could learn the difference.) Here is the interview Marc Maron did not get removed:

"Hadley Freeman

Saturday 16, June 2018

On his podcast, Maron has been excellent at calling comedians out for unacceptable behaviour. He has confronted people about joke-stealing and taken others to task for homophobia. So I wonder if he regrets any of his own past jokes. In 1999, he appeared on David Letterman and said he knew he was getting older when teenage girls stopped looking at him as a sexual being. “Don’t misunderstand: I’m not saying I want to have sex with teenage girls… I’m lying: of course I want to have sex with teenage girls. Come on, doesn’t everyone? That’s why there’s a law.” In 2014, he was interviewed on US TV and asked about his reputation for dating much younger women. “Yeah, resolving daddy issues since 1989. I’m here to help the young ladies,” he replied.

But when a male fan wrote to Maron recently to suggest that maybe he should take that Letterman clip down from his website, he was outraged.“What am I, a personal totalitarian state? I’m going to have to start erasing my history? I don’t think it’s an inappropriate joke. I mean, the idea that men want to have sex with teenage girls – really, are you shocked? It says a lot that somebody – that a man – would reach out and say, ‘It’s not a good look to have that joke up.’ What is happening?” he asks.

Marc Maron: ‘I’m familiar with coke, anger, bullying, selfishness’ | Comedy | The Guardian"

August 16, 1977

 I always think of Curtis Martin on August 16 each year.

Here is a pic, with Curtis in the chair, and me on the right in red pants.  On the far right are the handlebars of the bike I was sitting on during our first kiss. Here is the story I wrote about it:  Moses