Al Franken is getting a blast from the past, and may even be starting to feel sorry for himself, because the rules have not only changed, they are being applied ex post facto to behavior that once upon a time seemed to him not just normal, but worthy of performance onstage.

Happy Jack Feder, writing at the American Spectator, recalls a blatant case of sexual assault on a coed, done before an audience:

From a USO show at Ramstein AFB

Front row, right side at Student Union Ballroom of Montana State University, Bozeman, Montana. Winter of 1979 or 1980. Actually, I witnessed both Al Franken and his then partner, Tom Davis, commit acts of unwanted sexual harassment. (snip)

Franken (or was it Davis?) announced it was time to take a break from the rollicking hilarity and laughter. It was time to dance!

They each stepped off the front of the stage and into the chairs and picked out two comely young college girls and brought them up to the stage. The lights dimmed. Soft, romantic music began to play. Franken and Davis wrapped their arms around their partners and pressed their bodies close. The girls complied.

They danced. They swayed.

And then Al’s hands slid down to his dancing partner’s ass. And I use the word ‘ass’ because in that context, that’s the word you’d use. Not buttocks or fanny or tail or bottom. Ass.

His hands began fondling her ass.

Same with Davis.

Ha ha ha. There was laughter from the assembled voyeurs, excuse me, spectators.

The girls both reached behind and moved the roving hands up.

After which the hands slid back down to cop another slow, sensuous feel. Over and over and over. (snip)

In my early twenties, I wasn’t prissy. Hardly. But I remember thinking this was a pretty weird skit. Or at least I scratched my head wondering what I was missing. I didn’t laugh. I kept waiting for a punchline, as though the ass grab was a setup. But it wasn’t a setup. Fondling the fanny was the whole point.

I also recall a sort of protective reaction. (Go ahead, accuse me of White Male Savior Complex.)

These were two young Montana girls, 18 to 20, and Franken and Davis were a seasoned pair of high power comedians at the height of Saturday Night Live fame. They were stars. They owned New York City, for crying out loud. These girls might have been cheerleaders at Three Forks High School. Maybe even prom princesses. Not cosmopolitan New Yorkers.

These two successful entertainers put two girls on stage, in front of maybe two hundred people, in roles of dancers, and began fondling them. Straight and simple as that. Maybe Franken and Davis whispered instructions into the girls’ ears, I don’t know.

In any event, the ass grabbing continued for the duration of the song.

Meanwhile, a couple hundred people watched. Or leered. Or laughed uncomfortably.

If we assume that Feder is correct in his memories, then it is unlikely that Bozeman was not the only performance in which this schtick was employed. One suspects that the female victims maintain their memories of this, and perhaps some of them will speak up.

If it is necessary for Franken to suffer public disgrace and perhaps even loss of his political career, well, so be it. You can’t make a Trump impeachment omelet without breaking a few Democrat perv eggs. Sacrificing the welfare of specific individuals in the name of a broader political goal is the Democrats’ standard operating procedure, after all. Group identity and power are all that matter, after all.

The principle that behavior decades ago, prior to entering political office, is grounds for taking out politicians is what counts. Al is just collateral damage, and he’d better get ready for his designated role in the planned overturning of a presidential election.

Hat tip: Glenn Reynolds, Instapundit