But of course, the recent hysteria over long-ago incidents of sexual molestation is preposterous;

nonetheless, what astonishing piggery the charges reveal.  Today yet another of the old farts (I frankly forget which one) admitted to having molested a much younger woman ten or a dozen years ago:  "I patted her on the back--and discovered that her dress was backless. Then I realized the front of her dress was open, and I stuck my hand up it, six inches above the hemline."  WHAT!?  "I remember apologizing to her at the the time, and her saying, 'Think nothing of it.  It's perfectly all right.'"  The hell she did.  The point is, the old fart in question (I wish I could remember who it was) seems never to have realized what an utterly swinish--and, I should think, embarrassing and creepy--thing it is to stick your hand up a lady's dress when you're not exactly on mutually explicitly erotic terms with her.  And yet this, I'm beginning to think, really is (or has been) the zombie-robot world of the Heterosexual Tyranny, where such things have happened, and the grossly insulted women have said, 'That's all right.  Think nothing of it.'  I really do think I'm glad I'm gay.