Newly Hacked: 1st Draft of Harvey Weinstein’s Resignation Letter

Harvey Weinstein is so ugly that when he was born they slapped his mother.

This is the 1st draft of embattled producer Harvey Weinstein’s resignation letter. “Embattled” meaning he’s guilty of whatever it is he’s battling. Mr. Weinstein’s letter was obtained before his female defense lawyer had an opportunity to sanitize it for public consumption. Loutish schmucks like Weinstein always hire a female lawyer to perfume their transgressions with a sense of “this will never happen again and see, even a girl supports me.” And many of these lady lawyers are happy to turn the tables on these serial schemers by becoming the fig leaf for their ill deeds at $1700 an hour plus expenses. It’s poetic justice really; whereby the guy who took coercive advantage of women is now being similarly taken advantage of by a woman. Through the Freedom of Information Act I obtained Mr. Weinstein’s 1st draft (alright I got it from Igor my Russian IT hacker) and disclose it here in the hopes readers will marvel at its’ self-centered obliviousness.


Dearest Friends, Colleagues and that tattletale Gwyneth Paltrow,

On this somber occasion when I’ve been caught with my pants down and my robe open, it pains me to announce my resignation from Weinstein Productions (a division Casting Couch Industries). You can imagine my disappointment in having to step down from such a carefully crafted female trap that took me decades to perfect. It wasn’t easy forging a foolproof method where an inflated, hairy ogre like myself was able to take advantage of some of Hollywood’s most vulnerable beauties – before they had any leverage in the business. People should know that for every woman who rebuffed my “offers of love” another 3 quietly submitted to them. So in my mind I’m batting like .750. Those are Hall of Fame numbers – not bad for a graceless toad from Queens who women wouldn’t bother with if, instead of being a powerful Hollywood mogul, I was a pinsetter at an Amish bowling alley. But for now it’s all over and it’s back to escort services and massage parlors for me while I pretend to get the help I don’t want.  

It’s not easy being me – a man whose body was the inspiration for Shrek. I want the people of America, and any potential juries of California to recognize that no longer having access to, and control over pretty young things is punishment enough for my supposed misdeeds. To have something so meticulously created ripped from my doughy fingers just as I was getting even uglier, makes my pain doubly acute – like a cute starlet I’ll no longer have. This inability of lording it over young Hollywood Barbie dolls is depriving me of what I love most – power and sex. Now I’ll have to revisit my sordid roots where it all began: LA’s premiere escort services and its’ numerous massage parlors. But lest you think I get any satisfaction from having Suki of Madame Wong’s House of Groping service me for a fee you’d be wrong; it is no substitute for lording it over a young Reese Witherspoon or Sandra Bullock. I’m a mess right now – a hot Jewish mess.

I’ve somehow deluded myself into believing that my actions were justified. That I was just trying to give these career women a leg up – so to speak – as they served their sentence with me. Sex-for-career-mobility has been a part of Tinsel Town since the days of Fatty Arbuckle. It’s not like I’m drugging these women and forcing them to wake up next to my hairy ass. I’ll leave that to America’s dad, Dr. Huxtable. What he did was really wrong. What I did was… {This is where you, my lawyer, will say something supportively ambiguous about the indefensible things I did. I can’t think of anything to excuse my actions. But that’s why you’re making $1700 an hour plus expenses).  

So yes, while I freely admit to practicing “gender inequality in an asymmetric romantic relationship,” I reject any charges of sexual harassment. Sexual harassment is what unprincipled people do. That’s not me. I’ve got principles and I keep them in a safety deposit box in Beverly Hills where they’ll never have any effect on me. Besides, since I’ve been caught, I’ve voluntarily stopped practicing this whole gender inequality thing altogether. If I wasn’t caught I’d still be doing it, and who’d be hurt? I mean besides the women I forced to grovel for their livelihoods. Did anyone ever stop to think how much pleasure I got out of it? Yeah. I think that far outweighs what little inconvenience a starlet or two (hundred) suffered in accommodating me. This is a game-changing loss in my world. I think there are really 2 victims here. Them and me.

Now as I pretend to recede into the curative shadows of some bullsh*t rehab center {you’ll dress that up for me} where I’ll pretend to get the help I don’t want, for a problem I don’t have, I’ve grown morbidly depressed in thinking I may never be able to recreate a similar empire whereby I may once again menace Hollywood’s most nubile creatures.

But I’ll be back in some form – probably reptilian – because women are in love with my stub (my pay stub that is). And if the lighting is just right and I’m channeling the proper amount of my abundant Al Goldstein charm, I’m told the experience of making love with me is like sleeping with a cuddly porcupine. So while I’m away pretending to make amends with my wife and children (I’ll start by learning their names) I’m sure the outraged public will in time forgive and forget me – after all wouldn’t you rather focus on your number of Facebook “Likes” than the few “errors” of l’il ole me? In the scheme of things I’m a small fish – a small, hairy fish. And we small fish should be allowed to do whatever we choose to do as long as we deceive ourselves into thinking what we do is consensual.

{So wordsmith this mea-not-culpa resignation letter for me will ya toots. Y’know, so I don’t come off like some kind of conniving, selfish, oblivious bastard. Capish baby?}


Insincerely Yours,

Harvey Weinstein

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