The multi-volume Herman Cain saga gets a brand new chapter as a Georgia woman claims their 13-year affair stretched into this year
Updated 6:33 p.m. A woman in Georgia told a local TV station in Atlanta Monday that she had a 13-year affair with presidential candidate Herman Cain that ended just eight months ago, right before he entered the Republican primary.
Ginger White, described as a "businesswoman" in the report by the Fox affiliate, supplied copies of her cell phone bills that showed 61 calls and texts over four months ending this September. When the station texted the number, Cain called back, according to the report.
White said she came forward because she was offended by the way Cain attempted to minimize and dismiss allegations of sexual harassment that have come to light over the last month. "It bothered me that they were demonized," she said.
White said she met Cain in the late 1990s when he was president of the National Restaurant Association and she liked a presentation he gave in Kentucky. She knew he was married, she said, but the affair "was fun. It was something that took me away from my humdrum life at the time." Cain, she said, flew her around and showered her with gifts.
In response to the story, Cain's lawyer, Lin Wood, issued a statement that was breathtaking in its avoidance of a direct denial of the affair: He noted that in this case, Cain was not accused of harassment or assault but of "private, alleged consensual conduct between adults," and contended that this is "not a proper subject of inquiry by the media or the public."
That was starkly different from the line Cain himself took a couple of hours before the story aired. Attempting to get out in front of the news in an interview with CNN's Wolf Blitzer, Cain flatly denied the charge. He acknowledged knowing White, whom he characterized as an "acquaintance that I thought was a friend." But he said there was no affair.
Both Cain and his wife had the same reaction to the news, the candidate said: "Here we go again." He said he would not drop out because he could "take the lumps"; he said he was in it "for the grandchildren" -- his and everyone else's -- at whatever personal cost.
If you're keeping score at home, Cain now has five official "accusers": the two women to whom the restaurant association doled out five-figure payments to settle sexual harassment charges while he headed the group; another association staffer who told the Associated Press she was harassed but chose not to file a complaint; and Sharon Bialek, who worked for an affiliated organization and has alleged that Cain fondled her and tried to force her head into his lap.
Now, the multi-volume scandal surrounding Cain has another seamy chapter. And unlike the previous ones, it doesn't involve decade-old allegations.
For all the debate about Cain's damage control strategy -- has he been consistent enough, proactive enough, forthright enough to dispel the charges? -- it's the existence of this drip-drip-drip of further accusations, not his response to them, that's causing the damage.
Cain's candidacy looked to be quietly fizzling as conservative voters seized on a new potential favorite, former House Speaker Newt Gingrich. Cain still polls in the mid- to high teens nationally, putting him in third place in this extremely volatile Republican field. But the more time he spends in this unwelcome spotlight, the harder it gets for his defenders to stay loyal.
Allegations against the comedian are proof that women are angry, temporarily powerful—and very, very dangerous.
Sexual mores in the West have changed so rapidly over the past 100 years that by the time you reach 50, intimate accounts of commonplace sexual events of the young seem like science fiction: You understand the vocabulary and the sentence structure, but all of the events take place in outer space. You’re just too old.
This was my experience reading the account of one young woman’s alleged sexual encounter with Aziz Ansari, published by the website Babe this weekend. The world in which it constituted an episode of sexual assault was so far from my own two experiences of near date rape (which took place, respectively, during the Carter and Reagan administrations, roughly between the kidnapping of the Iran hostages and the start of the Falklands War) that I just couldn’t pick up the tune. But, like the recent New Yorker story “Cat Person”—about a soulless and disappointing hookup between two people who mostly knew each other through texts—the account has proved deeply resonant and meaningful to a great number of young women, who have responded in large numbers on social media, saying that it is frighteningly and infuriatingly similar to crushing experiences of their own. It is therefore worth reading and, in its way, is an important contribution to the present conversation.
Steve Bannon stonewalled a House committee, then promptly agreed to an interview with the special counsel—the latest example of how Mueller is moving ahead as lawmakers feud and spin their wheels.
On Tuesday, Steve Bannon spent hours behind closed doors with the House Intelligence Committee. It was rough. The former White House chief strategist stonewalled lawmakers, they said, even after members from both parties issued a subpoena. Then, on Wednesday, CNN reported that Bannon has struck a deal with Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s team for an interview.
The disparate results obtained from Bannon neatly symbolize the difference between Mueller’s probe and the various congressional panels, all of which are in their own ways investigating Russian interference in the 2016 election and what role the Trump campaign played in it. The congressional panels are high drama, but low results, riven by procedural hurdles, partisan foodfights, and what appears to be interference from the White House. Mueller, meanwhile, has kept his head down and his lips sealed, with most news about his probe emerging from outside sources or from court documents, but all appearances suggest a team moving slowly but inexorably and effectively forward.
Entertainment glorifying or excusing predatory male behavior is everywhere—from songs about “blurred lines” to TV shows where rapists marry their victims.
Edward Cullen. Chuck Bass. Lloyd Dobler. Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That guy from Love Actually with the sign. The lead singers of emo bands with their brooding lyrics. Many of the romantic heroes that made me swoon in my youth followed a pattern and, like a Magic Eye picture, only with a little distance did the shape of it pop out to me. All of these characters in some way crossed, or at least blurred, the lines of consent, aggressively pursuing women with little or no regard for their desires. But these characters’ actions, and those of countless other leading men across the pop-culture landscape, were more likely to be portrayed as charming than scary.
Romance often involves a bit of pursuit—someone has to make a move, after all. And there’s certainly a spectrum of pursuit: Sometimes supposedly romantic gestures in pop culture veer toward the horrendous or illegal; sometimes they’re just a bit creepy or overzealous. But revisiting some of these fictional love stories can leave one with the understanding that intrusive attention is proof of men’s passion, and something women should welcome. In a number of cases, male characters who were acknowledged to have gone too far—by, for example, actually forcing themselves on women—were quickly forgiven, or their actions compartmentalized and forgotten.
A viral story highlights the lingering difference between the language—and the practice—of consent.
It was true that everything did seem okay to me, so when I heard that it was not the case for her, I was surprised and concerned. I took her words to heart and responded privately after taking the time to process what she had said.
I continue to support the movement that is happening in our culture. It is necessary and long overdue.
That was Aziz Ansari, responding to a story that was published about him over the weekend, a story that doubled for many readers as an allegation not of criminal sexual misconduct, but of misbehavior of a more subtle strain: aggression. Entitlement. Excessive persistence. His statement, accordingly—not an apology but not, either, a denial—occupies that strange and viscous space between defiance and regret. I was surprised and concerned. I took her words to heart.
The parents of teen internet celebrities get a crash course in a new kind of fame while trying to maintain boundaries for their newly rich and powerful children.
When then-14-year-old Jonas Bridges ran down the stairs of his Atlanta home shouting, “Dad, I’ve got 1,000 fans!” his father, Rob Bridges, hardly took notice. A few days later Jonas barreled into the living room again, saying, “Dad, I’ve got 3,000 fans now.” Again, his father brushed him off. Several days later, Jonas told his father, “I have 5,000 fans now and if I get to 10,000 I’ll get paid for it.” Finally, Rob Bridges turned to his wife and said, “Denise, what the hell is he talking about?”
What Jonas Bridges was trying to tell his father was that he was rapidly becoming famous on YouNow, a social video platform where he had begun hosting live-streams from his bedroom under the pseudonym “woahits_jonas.” Before his parents knew what was happening, Jonas had amassed an army of online fans for his vlogs and prank videos. Before they could grasp quite what his newfound fame meant, Jonas had begun raking in serious cash.
President Trump is the embodiment of over 50 years of resistance to the policies Martin Luther King Jr. fought to enact.
On April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. In response, a week later President Lyndon B. Johnson scrambled to sign into law the Fair Housing Act, a final major civil-rights bill that had languished for years under the strain of white backlash to the civil-rights movement.
Five years later a New York developer and his son—then only a few years out of college—became two of the first targets of a massive Department of Justice probe for an alleged violation of that landmark act. After a protracted, bitter lawsuit, facing a mountain of allegations that the two had engaged in segregating units and denying applications of black and Puerto Rican applicants, in 1975 Trump Management settled with the federal government and accepted the terms of a consent decree prohibiting discrimination. So entered Donald Trump onto the American stage.
The cryptocurrency was meant to be stateless and leaderless. Ironically, the culprits of its latest plunge are ... state leaders.
Bitcoin is a bubble.
That much was clear to economists, investors, and analysts for quite some time. But one of the shortcomings of such analysis is that certainty of an economic bubble offers little insight on how, when, or why that bubble will pop. “I can say almost with certainty that they will come to a bad ending,” Warren Buffett said last week, to the great consternation of crypto fans. “When it happens or how or anything else, I don't know.”
Maybe—maybe—it’s finally happening.
The price of bitcoin plummeted by as much as 20 percent on Tuesday to $12,000, or about 40 percent below its all-time high in December. Other popular cryptocurrencies, like ethereum and Ripple, also posted double-digit losses.
A new report finds that white supremacists committed the largest share of domestic-extremist related killings last year—highlighting the danger of racist rhetoric and hateful ideas.
Although the leaders of the white-supremacist alt-right insist their movement is nonviolent, racist rhetoric and hateful ideas can inspire violence if taken to their logical conclusion. A lone individual, encountering white-supremacist propaganda, can become convinced that it is a cause worth fighting for. Timothy McVeigh read The Turner Diaries, a story of a race war written by a notorious white supremacist, before he carried out the Oklahoma City bombings. Dylann Storm Roof frequented racist and anti-Semitic sites before he walked into an African American church and gunned down nine parishioners in Charleston, South Carolina.
And the threat they pose is not trivial. According to the latest data from Anti-Defamation League’s Center on Extremism, white supremacists were responsible for more than half of the 34 fatalities linked to domestic extremists of all stripes last year, claiming 18 lives in 2017.
The cognitive test that Trump passed was neither thorough nor difficult.
Amid growing speculation about President Trump’s unfitness to hold the nuclear codes he has threatened to use, anyone who was suspicious that he could not identify a camel or draw the face of a clock can rest more easily tonight.
This afternoon the president’s physician, Navy Rear Admiral Ronny L. Jackson, said that the president “did exceedingly well” on a test called the Montreal Cognitive Assessment, reporting a score of 30 out of 30.
The Montreal Cognitive Assessment is a 10-minute test. It’s one of the commonly used screening exams for dementia. The questions on the test vary in difficulty, but they include:
Six points for knowing the date and where you are.
One point if you can identify what a train and a bicycle have in common, and another for watch and ruler.
Groundbreaking elections in the late 1860s gave birth to real, if short-lived, interracial democracy—the likes of which America had never seen.
One hundred and fifty years ago, on January 14, 1868, an extraordinary convention opened in Charleston, South Carolina, the cradle of the Confederacy.
That afternoon, a biracial group of men—most of whom were black and some of whom had recently been enslaved—gathered at the elegant Charleston Club House, which had only recently been the refuge of city elite. They came to redraft South Carolina’s uniquely undemocratic constitution. One of nearly a dozen interracial meetings held in the former Confederacy between late 1867 and 1869, the South Carolina Constitutional Convention was part of a larger Reconstruction-era campaign to rebuild the nation in a more just fashion.
Today, the South is primarily associated with hidebound conservatism. But for a few brief years after the Civil War, this campaign transformed the region into the most progressive place in America—providing a blueprint for a liberal resurgence that may already be under way in the 21st century South.