Anna Holmes: Charlie Sheen's abuse of women -- why don't people care?

Commentary

Forty-three minutes into his "special live edition" with Charlie Sheen on Monday night, Piers Morgan finally got around to asking his guest a real question.

Before that, Morgan and Sheen had mostly traded chuckles and anecdotes about multiday benders, inflated network salaries and meet-ups in Aspen, Colo.

But then, after three commercial breaks, Morgan inquired, "Have you ever hit a woman?"

Two minutes later, with Morgan apparently satisfied with the actor's answer that no, women should be "hugged and caressed," that line of questioning was over.

That Morgan didn't press the issue of domestic violence shouldn't have come as any surprise. CBS executives, not to mention the millions of viewers of his "family" sitcom "Two and a Half Men," have consistently turned a blind eye toward Sheen's history of abusing women.

Part of this, of course, is about money. The actor's F-18 of an id — to borrow a metaphor from Sheen himself — had long provided the show a steady stream of free publicity.

But it's also about apathy.

Even now — after Sheen began carpet-bombing his bosses in radio rants, prompting CBS to shut down production on the show — observers still seem more entertained than outraged, tuning in to see him appear on every talk show on the planet and coming up with creative Internet memes based on his most colorful statements.

And while his self-abuses are endlessly discussed, his abuse of women is barely broached.

Our inertia is not for lack of evidence. In 1990, he accidentally shot his fiancee at the time, the actress Kelly Preston, in the arm. (The engagement ended soon after.)

In 1994 he was sued by a college student who alleged that he struck her in the head after she declined to have sex with him. (The case was settled out of court.)

In 2006, his wife at the time, the actress Denise Richards, filed a restraining order against him, saying Sheen had shoved and threatened to kill her.

In December 2009, Sheen's third wife, Brooke Mueller, a real-estate executive, called 911 after Sheen held a knife to her throat. (He pleaded guilty and was placed on probation.)

Last October, another actress in sex films, Capri Anderson, locked herself in a Plaza Hotel bathroom after Sheen went on a rampage. (Anderson filed a criminal complaint but no arrest was made.)

And on Tuesday, Mueller requested a temporary restraining order against her former husband, alleging that he had threatened to cut her head off, "put it in a box and send it to your mom." (The order was granted, and the couple's twin sons were quickly removed from his home.)

"Lies," Sheen told People magazine.

Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears are endlessly derided for their extracurricular meltdowns and lack of professionalism on set; the R&B star Chris Brown was made a veritable pariah after beating up his equally, if not more, famous girlfriend, the singer Rihanna.

Their careers have all suffered, and understandably so.

This hasn't been the case with Sheen, whose behavior has been repeatedly and affectionately dismissed as the antics of a "bad boy" (see: any news article in the past 20 years), a "rock star" (see: Piers Morgan, again) and a "rebel" (see: Andrea Canning's "20/20" interview on Tuesday).

He has in essence, achieved a sort of folk-hero status; on Wednesday, his just-created Twitter account hit 1 million followers, setting a Guinness World Record.

But there's something else at work here: the seeming imperfection of Sheen's numerous accusers. The women are of a type, which is to say, highly unsympathetic.

Others, namely Richards and Mueller, are less-famous starlets or former "nobodies" whose relationships with Sheen have been disparaged as purely sexual and transactional. The women reside on a continuum in which injuries are assumed and insults are expected.

"Gold diggers," "prostitutes" and "sluts" are just some of the epithets lobbed at the women Sheen has chosen to spend his time with.

Andy Cohen, a senior executive at Bravo and a TV star in his own right, referred to the actor's current companions, Natalie Kenly and Bree Olson, as "whores" on MSNBC's "Morning Joe" program on Tuesday.

Arianna Huffington sarcastically tweeted that Sheen's girlfriends "symbolize modesty, loyalty and good taste."

Sheen's own nickname for Kenly and Olson — "the goddesses" — is in its own way indicative of their perceived interchangeability and disposability.

A woman's active embrace of the fame monster or participation in the sex industry, we seem to say, means that she compromises her right not to be assaulted, let alone humiliated, insulted or degraded; it's part of the deal.

The promise of a modern Cinderella ending — attention, fame, the love and savings account of a rich man — is always the assumed goal.

Objectification and abuse, it follows, is not only an accepted occupational hazard for certain women, but something that men like Sheen have earned the right to indulge in. (Sheen reportedly once said that he didn't pay prostitutes for the sex; he paid them "to leave.")

One can't help but think that his handlers might have moved more quickly to rein in their prized sitcom stallion if his victims' motivations weren't assumed to be purely mercenary. (Or if they enjoyed parity and respect with regards to their age, influence and earning power.)

These assumptions — about women, about powerful men, about bad behavior — have roots that go way back but find endorsement in today's unscripted TV culture.

As Jennifer Pozner points out in her recent book "Reality Bites Back: The Troubling Truth About Guilty-Pleasure TV," misogyny is embedded within the DNA of the reality genre.

One of the very first millennial shows, in fact, "Who Wants to Marry a Multimillionaire," was notable in that it auctioned off what producers called the "biggest prize of all": a supposedly wealthy B-movie writer named Rick Rockwell — who was later revealed to have had a restraining order filed against him by a woman he'd threatened to kill.

According to Pozner, the reaction of one of the producers of "Multimillionaire" was, "Great! More publicity!"

On reality television, gratuitous violence and explicit sexuality are not only entertainment but a means to an end. These enthusiastically documented humiliations are positioned as necessities in the service of some final prize or larger benefit — a marriage proposal, a modeling contract, $1 million.

But they also make assault and abasement seem commonplace, acceptable behavior, tolerated by women and encouraged in men.

"You're entitled to behave however the hell you like as long as you don't scare the horses and the children," Morgan said at one point. Scaring women, it seems, was just fine.

During the interview, a series of images played on a continuous loop. One of them was a defiant and confident-looking Charlie Sheen, in a mug shot taken after his 2009 domestic violence arrest.