Monday, December 19, 2011

Kobe Bryant's divorce and the fall of "The Black Mamba"...

*Disclaimer-please be advised that we here at 'Busting Chops" are not casting aspersions on Vanessa Bryant for the hell of it. She is, arguably, one of the hottest broads we've ever seen married to any pro athlete (if you doubt this, please refer to the reality TV series called "Basketball Wives". Nowhere except on the barren sand dunes of the Serengeti will you ever see such a miserable collection of cloven-hoofed Wildebeests in all your life).

The girl is an incredible-looking young lady, and for the life of me I do not understand why she never made it into our "Babe of the Week" series. Maybe it's because she's so abhorrently despicable. Still in all are merely speaking the truth about her situation as we see it.

Kobe's wife Vanessa Bryant is filing divorce papers in L.A. County District Court. Citing the usual bullshit excuse of "irreconcilable differences", she is in the process of backing up the Brink's truck and making out with not only half his net worth and one (at the very least) of his mansions, but is claiming spousal AND child support. Bryant is on the hook to keep her in the elevated lifestyle she's accustomed to until she remarries, which will only happen once Kobe retires and no longer commands a 25-plus million dollar a year NBA contract.

It won't matter by then, because she would have successfully milked every dime she could out of her 10-year marriage to one of basketball's biggest and most relentless pricks. Suddenly, all those millions he's earned over the course of his career don't seem sufficient to placate the bottomless greed of this abominable cunt of a woman. The madness never ends!!!

But this isn't all her doing. Kobe created this monster a looooong time ago. Bryant, who was 20 at the time he married this two-bit video hoochie, thought it was a good idea to estrange himself from his family and marry this little twat while she was still in high school. The relationship caused such a distraction whenever he came to pick her up after school that the administration decided it would be best for her to spend her senior year at home. None of Kobe's family members or teammates were invited to attend the ceremony, and neither did he go to his parents seeking advice about such a life-altering event. He will be regretting this act of hubris very shortly, when the presiding judge rules on the allocation of assets.

He was so in love with this skank that he decided against a pre-nup in a state (California) that is infamous for it's brutal divorce settlements. There is a chance she winds up with more money than he, even though Kobe was the one who earned it all. Not that he'll be in the poor house by any stretch of the imagination (a guy who gets picked up and dropped off from work in a helicopter isn't going to be applying for a Section-8 rent subsidy voucher anytime soon) but he is going to be taken to the cleaners so hard he should hire George Jefferson as his legal counsel.

There have been a myriad of tales depicting Vanessa as an entitled, spoiled brat with delusions of grandeur. But when store clerks in Beverly Hills rant how she is one of the most obnoxious customers they've ever had to deal with in a place that counts snotty, entitled, and insecure celebrities as it's core clientele, these comments really stand out. "Do you know who I am?" she allegedly screamed at one hapless store clerk who happened not to have recognized the then recently wedded wife of Kobe Bryant. How the fuck were they supposed to know who this dumb bitch was? Had she ever done anything to warrant fame besides deepthroating cocks backstage at rap video shoots?

I find it distressing how people who become wealthy and famous-especially ones like Vanessa, who fell into her situation solely on the merits of having fucked someone's brains out-act like such ginormous pricks to anyone they feel are beneath them. Once you hit the lottery in whatever form, whether it's through birth, inheritance, marriage or hard work, aren't you supposed to be happier than the rest of the schlemiels who live from paycheck to paycheck? Do they really have to go around rubbing it in people's faces that they have it better than them in such a graceless fashion?

Here's the thing about money-financial windfalls amongst family members from humble backgrounds usually cause rifts that tear the fabric of said relationships apart. Vanessa's step-father and mother, who were happily married until she married Kobe, divorced over this very reason. Her ex-stepfather was quoted as saying the thing that ruined his marriage was he could not compete with the gifts Kobe and Vanessa were lavishing on his wife, leaving him emasculated and out in the cold. Kobe should have been aware of this, but apparently didn't care. This same disease has infected his current relationship, and here is where he could have used a bit of the fatherly advice he blatantly shunned during his courtship of Vanessa.

Don't get me wrong-I don't feel sorry for Kobe Bryant one bit. He exhibited a narcissistic mean streak that belied his exalted station in life when he raped that female hotel employee in Colorado. That incident wasn't about sex, it was about power, and exerting exerting it over someone he felt entitled to humiliate, not only because of who HE was but because of who SHE wasn't. And damn if the bitch wasn't grateful for having the great Kobe Bryant's dick up her ass. She was a nobody, and he wanted to remind her of it regardless of how googly-eyed she was in his presence. So whatever Vanessa morphed into after their marriage, she learned it from him. And what does it say about their relationship that Kobe had to run out and buy her a $4 million dollar multi-karat ring just to appease her ego after he got hit with rape charges?

Then there was the issue with their Peruvian housekeeper, who dropped her lawsuit alleging abuse at the hands of Vanessa when the matter was settled out of court. Here is a little snippet of one of the allegations made by ex-housekeeper Maria Jimenez-

"Jimenez also alleges that Vanessa Bryant screamed at her for putting a $690 blouse in the washing machine, and demanded that Jimenez put her hand in a bag of dog feces to retrieve the price tag for the blouse. Jimenez refused and said she would quit, but Vanessa Bryant allegedly demanded that she pay for the blouse first, the suit states. Jimenez says she stayed on the job to work off the cost of the blouse."
Ah, the lifestyles of the rich and famous. By the way, here is a video Vanessa appeared in before she struck paydirt, just so you can get a taste of what she was like when Kobe met her. She is the one in the tight, glittery outfit who mouths some of the words Snoop Dogg rhymes while provocatively gesticulating in the Chevy convertible.

Goodnight and good luck, Kobe. No high-priced attorney is going to save you from the rape of your assets you will be subjected to by your former darling sweetheart of an ex-wife. Happy New Year, asshole!!!

NBA News and Notes...

Now that the lockout is over, after the pathetic machinations of the bumbling David Stern/Billy Williams/Derek Fisher "trifecta of stupid" almost plunged the league into a year-long lockout after its' most successful season in years, it seems as if we have some issues to address going forward-

1) Chris Paul mentioning the storied "history" of the L.A. Clippers franchise was as over the top as it was patently untrue. Chris, I understand you're happy to get out of New Orleans, but you're layin' the disingenuous hyperbole a bit too thick there, buddy. The Clippers HAVE no storied history, unless having exactly two winning seasons in the last twenty years counts for something. Paul must also keep in mind he's playing for an Donald Sterling, an owner whose infamous for sitting on the sidelines while heckling HIS OWN PLAYERS.

And he's racist on top of that. He has a history of being sued by tenants of some of his real estate properties, and the comments attributed to him about them over the years are straight out of Bull Connor's Alabama. Sterling is an absolute riot. I'll give anyone 2 to 1 odds that both Chris Paul AND Blake Griffin are outta there in two years. This is the Clippers we're talking about, and they are doomed to fuck things up. But they can have fun now as they are on the upside and the Lakers are going in the exact opposite direction.

2) The biggest move that will affect The Lakers this year won't be the decimation of their entire front line to make room for Dwight Howard. Sure, Howard will help, but giving away a versatile big man like Lamar Odom for nothing is something that will come back to haunt them. Now they have aging, demoralized Pau Gasol and the increasingly irrelevant Andrew Bynam, who is basically a slow-burn version of Greg Oden. Bynam will play all 66 games this year in the truncated span of 120 days injury-free like I'll replace Hugh Hefner at the mansion. Not happening.

No, the biggest move that will resonate in Lakerland is Kobe Bryant's impending divorce from his wife Vanessa. Bryant, who's played through some serious distractions before during his rape trial in Colorado (settled out of court, so the consensus is "Yes, he was guilty"), can summon his laser-like focus like no other. But this is different. This newest fiasco involves the deterioration of his home life, which will not only cost him his family but tons of money. TONS. The Colorado incident happened when he was a younger man, and he is an old 36 this year at a time when the team will be depending on his diminishing skills more than ever. If he was the Kobe of yesteryear, I wouldn't bet against him. But the combination of father time, aching knees, impending trade rumors involving their two other best players and the divorce will be too much for even the Black Mamba himself to overcome. Welcome to the beginning of the end for the Lakers as they are currently constructed. Stay tuned. It's going to get ugly.

And Dwight Howard will not make the situation any better, because they still desperately need a point guard and have no bench whatsoever. Besides, is Howard so desperate to get out of Orlando he is willing to throw more of his formative years down the drain playing second fiddle to an aging nutbox in Kobe Bryant and guards Derek Fisher and Steve Blake, the worst backcourt tandem since Sacco and Vanzetti? I see the Oklahoma Thunder running these cats out of the gym. If the Lakers see a light at the end of the tunnel, it's the Thunder coming at them like a runaway train. As an aside, their second unit consists of the artist formerly known as Ron Artest...and four white guys. I rest my case.

3) The Knicks mightily overpaid for Tyson Chandler, both in money and in years. They are stuck with him until 2015. Giving up Chauncey Billups was a good move, because he is no longer "Mr. Big Shot". They have a serviceable front line, but Stoudemire's knees will have to hold up (highly unlikely) and Carmelo Anthony is going to have to play some semblance of defense, another improbability that may see the Knicks bounced out of the NBA Playoffs again in the first round.

Then you have their "point guard by committee" situation with an overwhelmed Tony Douglas, a clearly running-on-fumes Mike Bibby, who left his best years back in Sacramento 8 years ago, and Baron Davis, who will miss at least one month due to a back ailment he conveniently forgot to address during the NBA's protracted summer vacation. They inexplicably went after shooting guard Jamal Crawford, as if they need another chucker who refuses to play defense. Remember, Crawford was the guy Lance Stephenson scored 40-plus points on in a summer league tournament. Lance was FIFTEEN YEARS OLD at the time, and Crawford already a seasoned professional.

You'll be surprised by who I mention here as a possible fit for the Knicks backcourt-Sebastian Telfair. Yes, he is undersized, cannot shoot and is for all intent and purposes an NBA drifter destined to forever sit on the bench of whatever team needs to fill a roster spot. But he is fast, can handle the ball better than most and his mentality is pass-first. He has been in the league seven years, but four of those don't really count because he should have been in college. His knees and back aren't messed up and he still has remnants of the youthful bounce in his stride that has abandoned aging veterans Bibby and Davis years ago.

A player like Telfair is what this run-and-gun team needs, because there is no way Chris Paul or Deron Williams will sign with a team that can't sign them to a max contract. All that talk about these guys wanting to play for a championship is all well and good, but not too many of these cats are willing to leave millions of dollars on the table just to play in New York. If this were true, why have the Knicks NEVER been able to attract any All-Star caliber free agents until recently?

The last time the Knicks won a championship, John Shaft was trolling the gritty streets of Harlem and Frank Lucas was wearing his matching chinchilla coat/fur hat to Madison Square Garden prize fights. That is a long time to be irrelevant. Sure, those Patrick Ewing-led teams of the 1990's put up a good fight, but Patrick never got to play with another All-Star caliber player the whole time he was in New York.

But they do get style points for finally putting an end to the Eddy Curry Era, and that right there is reason enough to give owner James Dolan a pass for doubling ticket prices from one day to the next. There are plenty of New Yorkers who can afford it in a town where some Eurotrash Russian mail-order whore recently purchased an apartment for $88 million dollars with daddy's Russian trust fund cash so she can have a place to crash during college semesters.

4) We don't need any more evidence to affirm the obvious-what the league needs more than anything else is contraction. New Orleans, Sacramento, Minnesota, and Charlotte are bogus, irrelevant franchises that have to go. Here is why-

A) The grand city of New Orleans rallies around five things-police corruption, political scandals, hedonism, entrenched poverty, and the Saints. And don't blame Hurricane Katrina for the lack of support. The hurricane washed away a large majority of poor folks in places like the Ninth Ward who cannot afford to go to any type of anything, much less an NBA basketball team. The Hornets don't need to relocate to a larger market-they need to be scrapped because they suck.

B) The Maloof Brothers, the Las Vegas casino owners who were awash in cash only a few years ago, are now crying poor, hijacking the municipality of Sacramento to build them a new stadium or they'll leave. Not happening. They've been irrelevant for so long the league forgot to include their games during the initial first draft of the season schedule. DeMarcus Cousins and Tyreke Evans are two me-first dickheads who will do nothing to make people forget the guard/center tandem of Magic and Kareem, so forget about them. We can't wait for the San Andreas Fault to unleash it's fury and wash half of California into the sea. The Kings need to go RIGHT NOW.

C) Michael Jordan has been an unmitigated disaster as a husband, golfer, general manager and now owner of the woe begotten Charlotte whatever-the-fuck they're called. One of the best players to ever walk the Earth is responsible for two of the worst first-round draft picks in NBA history-Qwame Brown and Adam Morrison. He was also one of the owners vociferously fighting for a basketball-related revenue split with the players of 47%. As if this hard-line stance is going to win him any favors with potential free agents down the road. He could have had the commissioner set his team's player split of BRI set at 4.7%, and the Bobcats would STILL lose money. That's because they suck, and will continue to suck until Jordan either leaves or the team is shut down, preferably both. There is better basketball in the state of North Carolina on the college level, so the Bobcats are doomed and deserve to get whacked.

D) Minnesota just signed another point guard, JJ Barea, for $19 million over four years. They drafted three in the first round a couple of years ago, and are married to Ricky Rubio, who plays well only on Youtube EspaƱa. This is a perfect example of what is really hurting small-market teams; dumb-ass owners and general managers. Minnesota is so stupid they have their best player, Kevin Love, on the trading block. And for what, to rebuild? Isn't a 20-something, overachieving rebounding machine supposed to be the type of player you build a franchise around? Not in Minnesota, whose starting five this year will consist of five point guards, all under 6'3".

*The Toronto Raptors get honorable mention here, but they are so irrelevant I heard the US is planning to invade Canada just to keep them from playing any more games.

5) If there is any evidence that Danny Ainge is one of the worst GM's in the league, just look at what he's done ever since the Celtics won the title and you'll realize if it wasn't for the team and the coach he has now, he'd be doing play-by-play commentary on ESPN and playing golf with Charles Barkley. Having to be subjected to that man's horrible swing is enough for anyone to want to check out and go straight to Hell, but Ainge has earned a spot right next to Sir Charles on the putting green for his abominable moves.

Forget about the deals he pulled off to bring in Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. The Garnett deal was the doing of Kevin McKale in his attempt to rebuild a franchise going nowhere with Garnett at center. Allen was thrown at them by a desperate Seattle team looking to rebuild and unload his mammoth contract. Going forward, they had no use for an aging shooting guard who played absolutely no defense whatsoever. His metamorphosis was due to three things-his commitment to physical fitness during the off-season, Doc Rivers' emphasis on team defense, and having Pierce and Garnett on hand to put a foot up anyone's ass that wasn't on the same page.

Having gone to two straight NBA Finals with basically the same crew intact, Ainge decides to get cute. First, he trades big man Kendrick Perkins, who if he hadn't gotten hurt during the Finals in 2009, the Celtics would have won another title. He tries to replace Perkins with the biggest array of cast-offs and bums this side of the Bowery. Jermaine O'Neil, always a favorite of mine, is woefully past his prime. He's so past his sell-by date his fumes are running on fumes. Shaquille O'Neil was a joke with no punchline ever since he decided he was too cool to stay his fat ass in shape, which is the main reason he was shuttled out of Los Angeles. Neither player could fill the shoes of Perkins, who this year has come back in the best shape of his career and will thankfully miss the decline of the Celtics as teams like Miami and Chicago run roughshod over what was once a proud franchise.

Ainge then trades the combo of Glen "Big Baby" Davis and Nate Robinson. These two guys are professional basketball oddities would have ended as journeymen if not for the roles they played while at Boston. Both these guys are high-energy characters who play with passion and feed off the cheers of the crowd. They gave the Celts a much needed boost while the starters rested. They too are gone. And now, one of their supposed key players, Jeff Green, is out for the season due to a heart ailment.

And Ainge had the audacity to put Rajon Rondo, their best player, on the trading block recently, hoping to land Chris Paul, which in perspective is even more stupid than anything Ainge has ever done as a GM. Paul is a great player but has a bad knee which can go any minute now. Rondo has no knee issues, was the main reason they won a championship in 2008 and last year played through extraordinary pain when his elbow was bent in what motorcycle riders call "an angle of no return" during a freak accident on the court. He's been through the wars with these guys and never has received the full credit he deserves. There would be no "Big Three" without Rajon Rondo. And this is the thanks he gets. Don't get rid of Rondo-get rid of Ainge. HE'S the one who sucks.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

The Final Word on Hero Worship...

"Faith is the surrender of the mind; it's the surrender of reason, it's the surrender of the only thing that makes us different from other mammals. It's our need to believe, and to surrender our skepticism and our reason, our yearning to discard that and put all our trust or faith in someone or something, that is the sinister thing to me. Of all the supposed virtues, faith must be the most overrated."-Christopher Hitchens

The above quote by the recently departed Hitchens, noted author, social critic and infamous contrarian, says it all about the worship and unquestioning loyalty that envelops your average major college football program. Penn State suffered an inordinate amount of this due to the all-encompassing aura of ex-football coach Joe Paterno, who sucked the air out of the Penn State campus for over 45 years until he was given the bum's rush for not only failing to report Sandusky to the authorities but also for exhibiting monumental hubris when the situation called for exactly the opposite.

This isn't exclusive to sausage factories like Penn State. It happens at places like Duke University, where basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski is deified and worshiped like a Greek God. The fanbases of these programs are nothing but cults driven by a snide, cynical clique of worshipers who brook no criticism and resoundingly defend their programs at all costs. One must have faith, and being a true believer is the cost of admission, to the detriment of one's individual sense of self. Any rational sense of right and wrong goes out the window when defending "the program". Just ask ex-Ohio State football coach Jim Tressel.

You see the worst of it with assholes like Bobby Knight, but he is merely a symptom of a much greater disease. Sportscaster Dick Vitale, who has spent a lifetime licking the boots of coaches from his pulpit as a college basketball commentator, recently stated that Indiana University should erect a statue for Knight because of all he's done for the school. Vitale seems to have either forgotten or blatantly disregards the reasons why Bobby Knight was fired in the first place. During a public gathering almost 30 years ago, we have a very astute and pragmatic assessment of coach Knight's influence on the most talented player to ever play at Indiana, Isiah Thomas-

Notice how Knight is glaring at Thomas. Underneath the forced smile, you can literally feel the visceral, scalding-hot fury emanating from his eyes. And you have to love the way Thomas turned his head and glared right back at coach Knight as if to say, "Yup. I'm sayin' this because it's true, and you know it, motherfucker". Whatever his motivations, Isiah was right. What could any coach teach such a talented player besides swearing, cursing and variations of the word "cunt"? Absolutely nothing. Thomas was at Indiana University long enough to win a championship for Knight, not the other way around. But coach Knight is the one that receives most if not all of the credit.

The type of misguided hero worship we've seen at Penn State invariably and inevitably leads to monsters like Jerry Sandusky feeling they can act with impunity. Sandusky, who was affiliated with Penn State in an important enough capacity to profit from it's notoriety, had acquired the desired amount of clout where he was able to pull children out of class in the middle of a school day to molest them right on the premises. And no one at this school batted an eye.

The poisonous affects of this is evident every day on college campuses all over the country. Entitled jocks walking around saying and doing anything they want-never going to class, always having someone else do their homework, and screwing every girl in sight. One minute they're living in abject poverty, the next they are driving fancy cars, rocking mad jewelery and shopping at Lord & Taylor. Girls losing their self-respect just to be close to these low-IQ, overgrown pituitary cases. Boosters paying tons and tons of money for exclusive "access" to the programs. Everything corrupt you can possibly think of goes on in this environment. And the average student, who goes to college for an education, is supposed to make what, exactly, of all this madness swirling around them?

What lessons are we to learn from all this? What is most disheartening is some of the people who Sandusky actually helped find themselves feeling sorry-not for the victims of his heinous crimes, but for the program and for themselves. They feel good ol' coach let 'em down, and now what blue-chip steroid freak is going to want to play for their illustrious alma mater? Who's going to uphold the traditions that resound from sea to shining sea?

Let's attempt to recalibrate our priorities and realize this ain't about the disenchanted ex-players of Penn State who feel disappointed their gridiron heroes let them down. It's about the victims whose lives have been scarred forever, and it's about the obscene and undeserved hero worship of coaches like Paterno. Coaches should stay away from any grandiose and overreaching status of power and respect that is out of proportion to their chosen profession. They should coach and nothing more.

If you need some hulking, yellow-toothed greaseball like Jerry Sandusky to teach you life lessons, you are not fit to wear the jockstrap necessary to protect your testicles from the kick in the nuts you deserve for worshiping people like him. The reasons why this system is out of whack begins with the screwed-up priorities of fans and the over-reliance of sports to fill the empty void that exists in the
personal lives of the fools you see in the stands every Saturday with their school colors painted on their torsos.

The overriding issue is the average fan's need to be a part of something "bigger than themselves". This is cult-speak, except these cults don't need to recruit. They have a built-in fanbase of worshipers, groupies and boosters who pass on the love of their teams from one generation to the next. Their particular allegiance becomes the defining characteristic in their lives. I can't possibly think of anything more corrosive to a person's sense of self-worth than this. Which is exactly the type of environment makes the Sanduskys of the world possible.

Jerry Sandusky and the Penn State Football Scandal Pt. III...

In the third and final installemtn of our groundbreaking investigative series on the Penn State football scandal, we finally get to the man in the middle of this shitstorm, Jerry Sandusky. We are going to cut through the clutter, hoopla and hyperbole and head straight to the facts, which, gruesome as they are, must be told.

First off, Sandusky gets arrested and makes bail. Aided in his quest to raise funds are former Penn State alumni who send him money for his defense. Now, I understand all about standing by your friends, but even friendship has it's limits, and charges of pedophilia fall into this category. That didn't stop these asshole from stepping up and helping Sandusky remain free. And it doesn't matter whether it's a dollar or $5,000. Any amount is too much. Then come the revelations in a bizarre and self-destructive interview with Bob Costas where Sandusky admits to showering with young boys and engaging them in "HORESPLAY", that vague, undefined term that can mean anything from slapping someone with a towel on the backside to, in Sandusky parlance, repeated anal rape of 10-year old boys.

So for the sake of clarity, we need to define this term for the court of public opinion. From the research done by our crack staff here at "Busting Chops", if horseplay doesn't involve an actual horse, it can only mean one other thing-rape. I had a friend who engaged in horseplay all the time. In fact, it was her passion. Know why? BECAUSE SHE WAS AN EQUESTRIAN!!! That's hoseplay, not what Sandusky was doing!!! Now, before you ask what type of idiot would agree to an interview on national television, keep in mind Sandusky wasn't actually in the studio. He was interviewed by phone and his lawyer was the one sitting next to Costas, as we were subjected to what for all intent and purposes was some of the most damning testimony we've heard to date.

Just picture this-a grown man, an older gentleman if you will, showering with a 10-year old boy BY THEMSELVES. Some of the "horseplay" involved both of them skating from side to side, naked, genitalia and butt cheeks flailing all over the place. The inappropriateness of this type of activity beggars belief. What sort of lawyer would agree to have their client admit to something like this? The type of lawyer who impregnates one of his clients, then a 17-year old girl and marries her to quell public sentiment going against him.

When Bob Costas asked Sandusky's lawyer Joseph Amedola  if he would trust Sandusky with his own children, he said "Yes" with a straight face.What the fuck.

(under construction)

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Jerry Sandusky and the Penn State Football Scandal Pt. II...

Part Two of our investigative series on the Penn State football scandal focuses on the sub-culture of major college football. Football coaches, for the most part, are frustrated ex-jocks who couldn't cut the mustard at the highest levels, or at any level. And as Woody Allen famously stated in his film "Radio Days", "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. And those who can't teach, teach gym". We can rephrase it for our purposes as "Those who can't coach, coach football".

Yes, football coaches. Those beady-eyed, granite-jawed orangutans with the thousand-yard stare who spend their emotionally stunted adulthoods screaming at the top of their lungs at teenagers while stalking the gridiron dressed in unseemly, tight-ass polyester shorts with breath so bad it could whittle the grass they walk on, while ranting and raving about how the next game is going to be a "war" they must win.They love their war euphemisms, and it is a glaring example of how fucked in the head these idiots are by constantly referencing war rhetoric to a bunch of impressionable young kids playing a game. Football isn't war, it's a sport, unless you've been the unfortunate lad to have been caught in the Cobra Clutch of a slimeball like Jerry Sandusky, who used his position of authority to live out his disgusting sexual perversions by abusing boys he was entrusted to supervise and protect.

Supposedly, football coaches are molders of young men who, according to the jackasses who worship them, teach invaluable lessons about life, competition and camaraderie. Apparently, these lessons can only be taught by frustrated, mentally-stunted neanderthals who've been concussed so many times during their own playing days most can't remember to take their whistles off when they go home to their grandmother's double-wide trailer. Many of these crackers would be distilling moonshine or biting the heads off chickens in traveling circuses if it wasn't for coaching, such is the genetic gene pool this profession attracts.

These lessons, according to one Jerry Sandusky, extend to personal hygiene, which is the reason he gave a few days ago via his crackhead attorney about why he showered with the young boys under his supervision. Newsflash for you, Jerry-you don't need to jump into a shower butt-ass naked with a 10-year old child to show him how to soap up. This line of reasoning borders on the insane, and is the main reason why I waited a while from the moment this sordid story broke out before commenting on it. These nuggets of self-incrimination are the desperate pleas of a vile and grotesque human being, whose sickness metastasized in the petri dish that is big-time college football.

The insulated world of D-I football promotes loyalty over talent, which is why the same type of white-bred, redneck goon gets recycled from the benches of such programs right into the coaching ranks all over the country.This is why assistant coach Mike McQueary saw Sandusky slamming a poor underage child in the ass as he strolled past the showers one fine day and decided he'd better call his dad to see how best to cover his own behind instead of calling the fucking police, which would have been the second reaction of anyone not indoctrinated by the assholes who run college football. The first instinct of any normal human being would have been to make an attempt to save the child from this perverse sexual attack. Instead, he stated he "slammed a locker door really hard" to let Sandusky know someone was in close proximity. That he walked away without ever once checking on the child after the fact speaks volumes not only of McQueary's own morals but of the cult-like atmosphere that pervades the universe of big-time college sports.

Here is the thing-I'm all for young boys bonding over athletics. It sure beats them joining gangs and participating in the preferred activities of gang bangers, like drive-by shootings, drug dealing and gang-rapes. But the whole jock culture within football has to change. First of all, no adult should shower in the presence of other naked boys. I liked the football coaches I played for, but would draw the line at seeing them naked in the shower next to me while waiting for them to pass me the soap as they generously lathered their rear ends. I would refrain from accepting a bar of Lever 2000 in such an instance.

There is no reason why the rituals of athletics have to involve the gratuitous exhibition of fellow teammate's genitalia. Showers should be private. Now one would argue that private showering facilities cost too much money to install. Well, you can ask the Penn State administration which would be more economically feasible-private showers or the untold millions they will inevitably be sued for because of the situation that just blew up in their face.I don't need to see anyone showering naked next to me, and neither do I want to be ogled while in the same vulnerable position. Under such circumstances, you may want to just shower up and get the fuck out of there, but you never know what's on the mind of the cat next to you. Or what's on the mind of your coach, who shouldn't be in there in the fucking first place.

Sandusky was protected by McQueary, Paterno, and the school administrators, who instead of going to the police with the information they had about a sexual assault witnessed first-hand, they passed the buck and ignored the fact they had a sexual predator in their midst, a pedophile who set up a foundation for at-risk youth so he could have a henhouse full of emotionally disturbed boys from broken homes to feast on like a homosexual Nosferatu. They had the situation well in hand, where potential crimes or other malfeasances are to be reported to campus police, who conveniently work for Penn State and not the state of Pennsylvania.

What we've witnessed in the aftermath of these heinous allegations is the culture of college football when a program becomes bigger than the towns they inhabit. This is what happens when diehard football fans pledge their allegiances to these programs to the point where sweeping shit like this under the rug is their first reaction to such a crisis. This is a monumental crisis of character that speaks volumes about the type of lessons football coaches like Paterno preach. Underneath it all, the character-building bullshit spewed by football coaches is nothing but an exercise in cult worship. And as in any cult, the cult and its' leader must be protected at all costs.

There is another dynamic at play here. Irresponsible parenting is at the root of this madness. If more parents were to take responsibility for their children, they wouldn't have to look to some jive-ass coach to take care of their young boys. The responsibility of being surrogate dads to wayward children should not fall into the hands of coaches. Coaches should fucking coach and that's it, and parents should be parents. Unfortunately, kids from impoverished, broken homes are susceptible to this type of abuse just like the proverbial runaway girl is susceptible to landing in the hands of a pimp. It is natural for a hapless, overburdened, single mother trying to raise her children under increasingly difficult circumstances to look for help, especially if the father is either not there or is a useless piece of shit. But society needs to recalibrate its' priorities so that responsible parenting takes precedence over the stalking image of a coach who is a father figure to no one when his intentions are similar to those of a creep like Sandusky.

And don't think for one second Sandusky is the ONLY pedophile/sexual predator roaming college campuses and athletic youth leagues. No, No, No. Just like almost every major athletic program has players taking money under the table from boosters and wanna-be agents, so too do college campuses have freaks masquerading as coaches preying on the very young people they are entrusted to coach. Just ask Jim Boeheim of Syracuse University, whose long-time friend and trusted assistant coach was recently fired over allegations that he too molested young kids over the course of many years. And let's not forget the resignation of the head of the AAU for the same exact reasons.

McQueary had one thing in mind when he encountered what must have been a blood-curdling scenario in the shower of the campus of Penn State, and it wasn't the welfare of the child. It was the idea of getting out of this situation without putting his career in jeopardy. Joe Paterno, it turns out, didn't immediately go directly to his superiors with the information because he didn't want to ruin the kids' weekend at Sandusky's camp. Well, this one particular child's weekend was ruined, and so was the rest of his life. Meanwhile, the brain dead student body of Penn State felt enough outrage to stage a candlelight vigil for Joe Pa as if he were the victim in all this, without thinking once that this out-of-touch buffoon needed to be fired and his statue taken down and hung upside down like Mussolini's bloated corpse after Italy was freed from the bondage of Fascism.

These are the so-called "values" at the core of this diseased system. Whenever you see some fat slob of a fan with his school colors painted on his gelatinous torso during the airing of a college football game, you can blame him too. It's losers like this, who live to cheer for their favorite college football team to the exclusion of say, a gym membership or anything remotely resembling a real life, you know that what matters to these cocksuckers is the game every Saturday and nothing else. If they have children or a wife, they are summarily ignored. If not, they cannot comprehend that what Sandusky did was horrible and wrong because they cannot relate. To them, their family constitutes the players they see on their big-screen TVs, and the head of this family is the coach. Slinking into the fantasy world of sports gives your average college football fan a respite from having to think too hard about anything, and gives their pent-up passions an orgiastic release they could never experience within the challenging confines of a real relationship with real human beings.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Jerry Sandusky and the Penn State Football Scandal Pt. I...

Well, what can I add to this quagmire of bullshit that is the Penn State Football scandal that hasn't been said already? Plenty, as a matter of fact. Here goes-

We are going to begin this three part investigative series with a close look at Queen Bee "Joe Pa" Paterno. Yes, he of the paternal nickname, always there for his flock of nimrod steroid freaks in their time of need with sage advice and a firm grip on the type of family-oriented values cherished by the "real" Americans that inhabit the euphemistic world of "Middle America". Middle America, that vast intellectual and sartorial wasteland that exists between the liberal, left-wing, pot-smoking East and West coasts exemplified by New York City and Los Angeles respectively. Middle America, where flannel is a fashion statement. Where plastic forks, spoons and paper plates are considered silverware. Middle America, where Spam and Chef Boyardi beef pillows (ravioli to you and me) is considered fine dining.

This is supposed to be where small-town family values and personal integrity are of such importance that jive-ass politicians pander to these assholes as if the rest of us are nothing more than heathenish baboons who do nothing but gang-bang, have out-of-wedlock children while intermingling with drug dealers, disease-ridden prostitutes and all manner of human garbage. Middle America is where you'll find the strict moral codes and rock-solid integrity that define this country. Nothing but honest-to-goodness, wholesome Americans, by golly. And if you think otherwise you'd be darn tootin'.

Rural Pennsylvania isn't exactly where I would recommend sending young men and women to receive a college education. The reasoning behind attaining a degree is to expand one's intellectual horizons through a combination of classroom study, research, lectures and interaction with fellow students from diverse backgrounds. But Penn State is a football factory masquerading as an academic institution, renown more for it's party school atmosphere and athletic programs than anything remotely resembling academia. Penn State is where the beer flows from the kegs of Anheuser-Busch straight into the gullets of its' brain dead student body. In many state universities perpetual toxic inebriation is a major. For the students at Penn State it qualifies as a double-major.

On any given weeknight most if not all the dorms on the venerable Penn State campus reek of beer farts and vomit from underage, lard-ass redneck losers who can't get laid because-you guessed it-most of the cute girls are getting fucked by the football players. The rest are standing in line waiting their turn (if you think I'm joking, then you've never been to one of these schools). These young ladies are pretty much your standard, run-of-the-mill white trash hoochies who've been administering blowjobs to jocks since they were in the seventh grade. Think I'm kidding? The most prevalent sexually transmitted diseases in suburban high schools among young girls are syphilis and gonorrhea...of the throat.

By the time they get to college, they would have honed their craft to the point that drinking beer, smoking pot and blowing football players is all they're good at. And what better place to accomplish these feats of daring-do while earning a sham of a degree than at an academic shithole like Penn State, where no one gives a fuck as long as Paterno gets his beloved Nittany Lions into a high-ranking bowl game every year?

Paterno was, for at least the last 15-20 years, a football coach like I'm the head of Virgin Airlines. This is a man who doesn't know where he is half the fucking time due to a case of undiagnosed dementia that belies his hyper-aggressive sense of entitlement. This is the only reason I can come up with for his abhorrent and clearly irrational behavior following the Sandusky revelations, which lead to his rightful dismissal. But his behavior isn't the result of some mental disorder. It's the result of being treated like a deity who always thought he was bigger than the school.

In fact, he thought he WAS the school, and the thinking around the intellectually hermetically sealed world of the Athletic Office was the place would crumble to the ground if "Joe Fucking Pa" wasn't running out of the tunnel on his reconstructed hip replacements with his team every Saturday. Let's be real-he hasn't coached in years, letting his assistants do the heavy lifting of running the program while he sits in a booth high above the field trying not to choke on his false teeth as he nods in and out of consciousness during practices and games like a heroin addict. 

During the time Penn State football fell into a bit of disarray during the early 2000's, the school realized it needed to recruit more athletically talented players, players who  usually aren't what one would call model citizens. This of course lead to more on-campus rioting and general mayhem on the part of the players during their off-time, when students are usually either in class, sleeping, or shitting all over themselves from a night of epic alcohol poisoning. Paterno continuously interfered with school officials whose job it was to look into violations of the school code of conduct, bullying his way through the process while gaining favorable sentences for his athletes, who almost always wound up receiving  lighter sentences than your average Penn State dickwad undergrad. Ah, those small-town values...rock solid and a shining example of virtuousness that is the envy of all the land.

Wanna know how big Paterno's juevos are? A few years ago, when it was way past uncomfortably obvious that this dickhead had to go once and for all, the school administration asked him to graciously step down for the sake of the program and he told the school President "No"-and wasn't fired. Can you imagine the balls on this fucking guy? They make the boulder that chased Indiana Jones through the Temple of Doom look like marbles.

This was during a time when Penn States' biggest highlight was Paterno running off the field in the middle of a game because his diarrhea was so egregious his bowels were going to explode all over the gridiron like a Hydrogen bomb. The lenses of his glasses are so thick he's been advised by NASA not to look directly into a solar eclipse for fear the reflection from his manhole-sized spectacles would knock both the sun and the moon completely out of orbit.

And while we're at it, let's also take into account his disgusting man-boobs-those sagging, drooping bags of octogenarian flab that are so hideous they leave even me at a loss for superlatives. You can actually see the silhouette of his Frisbee-sized nipples through his dingy, Chunky Soup-stained team-issue sweatshirt whenever he appears on camera. They are a monstrosity that insults even the lowbrow sensitivities of a rural bumble-fuck campus like University Park.

When the Sandusky storm was brewing over campus, the student body decided to hold a candlelight vigil-not for this beast's victims, but for Paterno. I wondered if Sandusky had actually victimized Joe Pa, such was the pity party thrown for this clearly out-of-touch jackass who again showed mammoth-sized testicles when he told school administrators when HE was going to step down. This graceless goon didn't show any type of contrition or remorse for the victims until he was told to by one of his PR hacks. It turned out to be too little too late for this career football neanderthal, and now he's gone down in a flame of infamy that will forever sully any good he's done while employed at Penn State. Only Bobby Knight's departure from Indiana University rivals Paterno's ignominious exit from the school he basically put on the map.

And that's just too fucking bad. Good-bye and good riddance, you piece of shit. You went from head coach of a powerhouse football program beloved the world over to drooling all over your Bingo card at the nearest retirement home in record time. You deserve nothing less. Let's have a moment of silence-not for Paterno, but for the hapless victims of Jerry Sandusky. Paterno can eat my ass for all I care. I hope he gets sued so fucking hard he won't have enough money left over to pay for his badly needed mastectomies. Maybe he can raise the funds by soliciting money from the same douchebags that sent Sandusky cash to help pay for his defense.