I know James Franco slightly or vaguely. Three or four face-times over the last decade or so. He was close with an ex-girlfriend, WordTheatre‘s Cedering Fox, to whom he had donated some time and energy.

And now he’s facing the guillotine for having over-stepped and exploited. I’m not defending him. I don’t know anything one way or the other, but I don’t think he should be disappeared. He might have to offer a lot of make-ups and maybe do a sabbatical for a year or two, but a person who’s been pulled over for intoxicated driving shouldn’t be shot by a firing squad.

I was texting with a guy this morning about yesterday’s L.A. Times story about Franco’s alleged misdeeds. Guy: “So the Franco piece isn’t as damning as I had imagined it would be. He’ll be okay.” Me: “That’s not the way it tends to work. People don’t differentiate as a rule, and once you’ve been fingered you’re as good as dead. Why do you think it’s not that bad?” Guy: “I think it falls in line with the same caliber of creepiness that Louis CK or Lars von Trier are dealing with. No rape or physical assault, just general harassment.”