Add Harvey Weinstein's Townhouse to the National Registry of Haunted Homes

Disgraced producer Harvey Weinstein has sold his Greenwich Village townhouse—on the market since 2016—for $25.6 million to Cheget LLC., according to New York real estate blog, the Real Deal.

It’s hard to imagine the kind of person who would want to live in a space recently occupied by Weinstein—a space, mind you, where he probably committed at least a few heinous sexual assaults. Sure, New York real estate is a tricky business where your second reaction to hearing a neighbor died, right after “I’m sorry,” is “Does their apartment have south-facing windows and when will it be back on the market?” But those are the homes of (maybe) decent dead people, not the very much alive and still disgusting Weinstein.

So what should happen to that $25.6 million property? Board it up and add it to America’s registry of most haunted locations, I say. But not one of the fun ones where the severity of crimes committed within have been softened by time. One of the actually terrifying ones—the kind that a cocky teen breaks into on a dare, only to return to their friends with a white streak of hair and a horrifying story of stumbling upon the original Good Will Hunting screenplay.

While the townhouse was put on the market before Weinstein was outed as a serial sexual predator, he has recently been selling off property as if he was a Miramax stockholder trying to get rid of shares. Via the Real Deal:

Earlier this month, Weinstein also sold two waterfront properties in Westport, Conn., for $16 million.

In January, Weinstein sold his home in Amagansett for $10 million. The house had been listed since May 2016, with an original price tag of $13.5 million.

So many more haunted homes! Stay at one of the Westport Properties and legend has it that you’ll hear a ghost moaning, “Has #MeToo gone to faaaaaAAaaaaAAr?!” at the stroke of midnight. Chilling! Say “Is this a modern day witch hunt?” thrice while looking in the bathroom mirror of the Amagansett house and within the hour, Sean Penn will arrive and demand you praise his new novel. All more frightening than anything that could happen in an abandon psych ward or the house from the Blair Witch, largely in part because it’s Quentin Tarantino who you find standing in the corner of the basement at the end of tour.

So close them all up. Nail a sign on the door that says, “Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here.” Warn your children to avoid these houses on Halloween and all other nights.

Or, alternative idea, convert them all into women’s shelters, rape crisis centers, and spaces for community advocacy groups. They’ll sage the houses right up.