This is difficult for me, so please bear with me.
It was in 1988. I was at a party at a duplex at, I think, Franklin and Pleasant in Minneapolis.
I was there with a woman, a friend of mine. We’d been drinking.
A lot.
Suddenly, and without warning, Dianne Feinstein, Patrick Leahy, Dick Durbin, Sheldon Whitehouse, Amy Klobuchar, Al Franken, Chris Coons, Richard Blumenthal, Mazie Hirono, Cory Booker and Kamala Harris walked into the room and grabbed her butt. Each of them, in order.
Yes, it looked strange, but it was Minneapolis in the ’80s. Anything could happen. Or that’s how I remember it.
My friend was really hammered, so she didn’t really react as 10 future Democrat members of the Senate Judiciary committee (and one future former member) grabbed her in an act that is considered Sexual Assault when committed by anyone but Bill Clinton.
It’s a memory I recovered, coincidentally, only yesterday, after three decades of aggressive therapy. But I believe accusers, even accusers I haven’t seen in three decades.
I won’t diviulge my friend’s name, but her father was a guy from Newark, New Jersey, named “T-Bone”, as I recall.
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