The late Anthony Bourdain’s girlfriend, Hapsburg ho Asia Argento…
…didn’t wait long to throw the barely cold body of her former lover under the bus when she claimed he was the one who pushed her to make a hush money payout to her underage loverboy. #YouToo?!
Those dead beta males…useful in a pinch when a psychoslag narcissist wants to burnish her public image and shift blame.
Argento, for those who don’t know, was one of the leading wights in the PoundMeToo movement, a first accuser in the Weinstein scandal. Now she’s hoist by her own poontard. And Harvey himself has called her a hypocrite. He may be a sleaze, but he’s not wrong. He was just a sleaze surrounded by sleazy women who enabled his sleaze. Infinite sleazeback loops.
Bourdain is emblematic of so many contextually alpha men who in their souls are still anxious, nipple-latching, outcome-dependent betaboys who can’t or won’t play the playettes. Soulless cunts like Argento feast on these types. And it’s not exactly a one-way street. Bourdain gets to tap ass that a non-famous Bourdain likely never touches.
Bourdain killed himself because he was distraught that his lover Asia Argento was a serial cheater who was probably cheating on him with 17yo boys. Bourdain’s Pain is existential; a tragic figure who didn’t fly too close to the sun…he flew straight into it. Happily. Suicidally.
It’s just another dreary dispatch from Clown World.