You know, I’m really sick of this.
Yes, of course a man shouldn’t beat up a woman; of course he did wrong. But I can’t take any more of these public spectacles...any slight, small or great, perceived or real, to the Great and Holy Triumvirate of Cherished Victims-—blacks, queers, and women-—must be met with rending of garments, wailing, and screams of outrage.
Did anyone see Jerry Richardson, the owner of the Carolina Panthers (my team) blubbering and crying about how much he hates domestic violence? Sheesh, what a trainwreck.
Yeah, I saw that. Before I figured out he was fulsomely blubbering over the concept of domestic violence, I thought that his immediate family must have been wiped out by Ebola.
But he doesn’t hate domestic violence enough to kick the savage who works from him off his team. Another phony, empty suit d-bag. When it comes between doing the right thing, or money, money wins every time. He is not the only one. How about the Dolphins. Richie Icognito sexually assaults a woman working at the teams golf outing and the owner, GM, and the coach do nothing, I repeat nothing. Icognito only gets in trouble for bullying a teammate, the least of his transgressions. What all this does is confirms what I have taken to heart in the last few years. Everybody of prominence in our country today is an empty suit, even those we are supposed to like.