Excerpts from police interview about Gore sex attack

Dean E. writes:

Savor this unsavory scene from the January 8, 2009 Portland police report on L’affaire Gore:

“Just How Crazy and Insidious He Was,”

… he grabbed my right hand hard, shoved it down under the sheet to his pubic hair area, my fingers brushing against his penis and firmly planted my hand on his pubic crest region and said to me, “There!” in a very sharp, loud, angry-sounding tone. This was all happening really fast as you can imagine. Further yet into shock from both his demand and his angry, intimidating behavior, I subtly and slowly slid my hand up from the area and told him it would be counter-productive massage technique as he had said he wanted to unwind from stress and relax and that it would get him too awake, I said euphemistically and diplomatically. I felt like I was dancing on the edge of a razor. [Meaning she felt she was about 2 seconds away from being violently raped.] He angrily raged in accusatory and threatening confrontational he bellowed at me. [confused, but you get the idea—Gore is trying to frighten her into submission] Just scared the shit out of me. I mean, I had no idea and I, I’ve never had a client yell at me except for one who is brain injured, and she was drunk and I’ve worked with her all the time, she’s just a mess but she’s like 5 feet tall (laughs) and she’ll cry.

Okay, so he screamed at me, he goes, “I’m not asking (imagine yelling) I’m not asking for you to do anything inappropriate”. To which I replied in a softer, terrified, calming tone, “no impropriety was inferred, sir”. At this point I realized just how crazy and insidious he was [empthasis added] and how precarious my situation was when he said the afore mentioned even though he clearly wanted inappropriate touch. It’s like to make your mind go nuts. He was moaning, groaning, moving and acting in a very suggestive way. It was unreal. I never even had any of my hotel clients get angry, yell or act out at me before. During the massage episode I realized, much to my horror, that I was in the perfect storm, that I was in a room with someone who was teflon-coated in terms of his credibility [ha!] and celebrity status, and my usual safety net idea in all hotel massages before this, of being able to escape from such a potential situation of perverted or threatening behavior by a client, which would be to terminate the massage and leave the room immediately for help from the front hotel desk, even running and/or shouting for help in the hallway if deemed necessary—was completely worthless in this situation. It was no longer viable because I feared I that if I ran for the door to get out I could or would be violently accosted by some security detail for seeming to be hostile, inappropriate, insubordinate, or threatening to him and I feared being tazed or shot by them as a first and immediate response. I also feared if I made dissent with Gore I could be in danger of being falsely arrested for false allegations of alleged soliciting or even attempted assault in his efforts to do damage control, and I felt certain that any, even the smallest complaint, from him to the hotel could also destroy my work reputation in all the hotels and hence do irreparable harm to my livelihood. Not to mention damage to my personal reputation which I had spent years building with my livelihood. I felt very uncertain if I’d be able to get out of that room without being accosted by him anyway at this point … does that make sense to you all?

[Police officer: “Uh-huh.”] [picture Joe Friday]

He then tried another tactic, as though he had very suddenly switched personalities, and began in a pleading tone, pleading for release of his second chakra there.

It goes on from there, and you should read it all as the tale is well told and illuminating, but pause to savor; the naked global-warming savior, glamorous Nobel prize-winning Al Gore, the Man Who Would be King, bloated psycho horndog (fitting Vice-President for Bill Clinton), bullying and begging a massage therapist for sex. Let’s hope it helps further deflate this absurdly inflated nutjob superman.

Dean continues:

More from the police report:

I definitely got the idea that he was used to having women throw themselves at him. Even one of the female front desk employees at the hotel was swooning about having met him to me just before I was to go up to massage him.” [ … ] “I was intimidated by him physically because he is large man, about the same height as me, maybe a little taller, but a lot heavier than I was, and clearly much stronger, and he had a dramatic display of violent temper as well as extremely dictatorial commanding attitude beside his Mr. Smiley Global Warming concern persona.

That’s what gets me. I always knew that Al Gore was fake, and that behind the facade was an angry loony of some stripe, just putting on a face for powerlust and prestige. It was SO OBVIOUS. But not to any liberal, leftist, or female, it seems. How can people be so easily deceived?

“Please continue, ma’am—just the facts”

I saw to my surprise it was a condom sitting on the table as he had set them out and I figured he must have used them at hotels like this before since he knew where to look for them. I told him, “well you’re damed if you do and you’re damed if you don’t about the condoms”—something to the effect of trying to, uh, if he used them without saying with whom everyone in the hotel would know he had had sex, implied about me, and he’d be exposed. And of course if he didn’t use them then he would not be practicing safe sex, if he had sex, or forced sex with someone. I hoped this would cause him to reconsider his attentions. Then I asked him how he, I said, “how do you rectify this with your wife?” Thinking this would cause him some remorse and mellowing, to which he angrily bellowed instead. Quick shift of mood again, which frightened me. I never saw anybody’s moods go just like this (snaps fingers). It made me go, “this man should never be in charge of the red button. Really scary.

Really scary indeed. And earlier she admits to having voted for the man.

It reads like a script written by some diabolically clever right-wing satirist:

… should never be in charge of red button. Really Scary. His mood, um, he bellowed. He goes, I wasn’t gonna do anything! I mean, just screaming. Um, more deeply frightened by his temper and the way he was suddenly stalking around like a dog with hackles up on his back. I started backpedaling with something, about, well, “everybody’s relationship or marriage is a private affair, no one knows for absolute certainty what is the true arrangement that was private with Bill and Hillary, for example, anyway, that part’s nobody’s business but their own”. I’m trying to fix things, see, but I realized later that I really stepped in it because talk about Bill and Hillary is like a sore point with this guy, and I didn’t know, so he’s just like ROAR!, and I’m really freaked out. He seemed even angrier at that point.

Just great!—she manages to get her licks in (if you’ll pardon the expression) with an inadvertent innocence that is really quite charming and satisfying. First she sticks him with, “your wife”, then plunges in with “Bill and Hillary”. Touché!

Dean’s transcription continues in the next entry.

Posted by Lawrence Auster at June 25, 2010 08:00 PM | Send