Editorial

The reports swirling around the secret life of Bill Cosby, the famous comedian of Dr. Huxtable fame, – that when he was younger and more vigorous he had an addiction for attractive young women and would drug them so he could have his way with them – have reached fever pitch in the United States.

More and more women are coming out of the woodwork to accuse him of having abused their confidence and trust in him to satisfy his carnal desires. Even though many of the alleged offences were committed a decade or more ago, the reports are now seeping through, revealing an attractive and talented man, who in secret preyed on unsuspecting young women who held him in high esteem.

The social media on the internet have been unrelenting in their condemnation of him, so much so that Bill Cosby has lost all his profitable sponsorships and commercial endorsements. He is now seen as a pariah, and all his good deeds, performed over many years have been overshadowed and consumed in the fierce cauldron of retribution.

his is not the first time that a man of talent has allowed his sexual urges to get the better of him. It has happened to presidents and politicians, to princes and paupers.

It is unlikely that Mr. Cosby will be arrested and charged with any criminal offence. The statute of limitations has run out, or so we believe. But his reputation has been shredded, and if he continues to live in the United States it will be a life of seclusion in the privacy of his home.

There is a lesson here for all of us. Things done in secrecy have a way of coming to light, sometimes decades later, long after the glow of conquest has faded from memory.

The words of the American scholar and poet,
Robert Harry Smith (1932/2006) seem relevant for this situation:
The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.

To lose one’s wealth is sad indeed,
To lose one’s health is more,
To lose one’s soul is such a loss
That no man can restore.

The present only is our own,
So live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in “Tomorrow,”
For the Clock may then be still.”

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