O.J. Pisses on Nicole’s Grave

May 12, 2006


And the O.J. Simpson saga goes on. Just when you thought this amoral sociopath couldn’t possibly do anything to make you detest him more, O.J. raises the bar–outdoes himself–disgraces the human race with a cynicism heretofore reserved for politicians.


In “Juiced,” a pay-per-view show set to air this month, Simpson appears in several vignettes where he pulls pranks on unsuspecting victims candid-camera style. One prank involves Simpson on a used-car lot trying to sell the infamous white Bronco in which he led Los Angeles police on a slow-speed chase three days after butchering his ex-wife and Ronald Goldman. This chase, of course, is where we got our most revealing look into Simpson’s moral character as he played the coward throughout, whining and acting aggrieved as he threatened suicide, conveniently choosing to forget that he had murdered the mother of his children by slicing her throat from ear to ear.


“Juiced,” a wretched paean to all that television has become, finds O.J. telling a prospective Bronco buyer that, “It was good for me—it helped me get away.” That something this disgusting is allowed to happen in this country is shameful. Fred Goldman, Ronald’s long-suffering father, said he found Simpson’s comments “morally reprehensible.” Indeed, would anyone think less of Goldman if he had Simpson killed?


Simpson’s partner in crime is the contemptible Rick Mahr, who besides being an empty and kindred soul of Simpson’s, is also the purveyor of distasteful dreck like “The Best of Backyard Wrestling,” “Ghetto Brawls,” and my favorite, “Brawling Broads.” That either one of these vermin can be so flippant about these savage murders, especially when we all know who committed them, is truly stunning.


I hope there’s a special place in hell for these two—a corner booth where they can share cocktails with Johnnie Cochran and reminisce about the good old days when it was okay to keep your bitch in line by slashing her throat.

United States is a Nation of Wimps

May 10, 2006


H.L. Mencken once wrote that, “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.” Never was this more clearly demonstrated than in a Virginia jury’s decision to spare the life of September 11th co-conspirator Zacarias Moussaoui. In sentencing Moussaoui to life in prison, the jury sent a distinct message that is demonstrated in many ways across this great land of ours: We have become a nation of navel-gazing wimps. Stupid ones at that!


Despite Moussaoui’s confession of his involvement in the attacks of September 11th, and his repeated blatherings of allegiance to Osama Bin Laden, this jury became squeamish about offing this loser. Moussaoui has spent the last four years spitting in the eye of the families of the dead and mocking the very justice system which spared his life, and yet his final statement as he left the courtroom betrayed no remorse: “America, you lost. I won.”


Not surprisingly, the jury cited Moussaoui’s “unstable childhood and a violent father” as mitigating factors in its decision to spare his life. Small wonder so many consider the U.S. weak and spineless. We allow illegal immigrants to march in the streets demanding “rights,” and we deliver no retribution for the violent deaths of nearly 3,000 Americans. None of the jurors agreed that life in prison was a greater punishment than execution—essentially saying that they had compassion for this cold-blooded killer.


Somehow a huge number of people in this country have bought into the notion that “compassion” and being “non-judgmental” makes them superior and allows them to feel good about themselves, when in fact, it merely makes them suckers. Terrorists worldwide now know that they can continue their evil deeds without fear of American payback. And mark my words, it won’t be long before an American citizen is held hostage somewhere, with the captors demanding Moussaoui’s release.


Sadly, American softness is nothing new. We’ve been on a long road to fuzziness since as far back as I can remember. Common sense has been overwhelmed by a fear and self-loathing so strong that individual wants have trumped the collective, and we’ve allowed a few shrill voices to establish today’s mores.


“Ooh, he called me a name!! That’s a hate crime!! Waaahhh!! He’s smoking—I’m going to get sick from secondhand smoke!! I CAN’T EAT THAT—IT HAS TOO MANY CARBS!! I’M A FATASS—I’M GOING TO SUE MC DONALD’S!!


We’re a nation of whiners and the far-left is largely responsible. The tree-huggers bemoan rising gas prices even as they picket to stop drilling in Alaska, rage against the construction of nuclear power plants, and drive their SUV’s. They rally against wind farms because a handful of birds may be harmed. They hold candlelight vigils to protest the execution of Michael Morales, who brutally raped and murdered a seventeen-year old girl, on the contention that lethal injection would subject him to “excruciating pain,” but they have no problem ripping a fetus from the womb because they believe in “choice.”


Lest you think I’m pro-life, I assure you I am not—I’m merely consistent. I’m in Bill Maher’s camp when he says he’s pro-death. Let’s kill unwanted children before they’re brought into this world to be ignored, become bitter, and finally visit crime upon the rest of us. And let’s certainly kill those who have such disregard for human life that they would kill others. And before you say it’s illogical and inhumane to teach respect for human life by killing, let me point out the idiocy of such a statement. By that reasoning, it would be wrong to incarcerate a kidnapper because “you can’t teach someone not to hold another against their will by holding the perpetrator against his will.”


But I digress—the intent of this blog was to illustrate what a bunch of softies we have become. And one need look no further than the way kids play now. On the rare occasion that a youngster drags himself from in front of his endless online chats, we can see him riding his bike with more protective gear than Neil Armstrong donned on July 20th, 1969. Indeed, one is hard-pressed to even find an adult who will ride helmet-less these days. And a little league baseball game sees kids outfitted like football players, with forearm pads and facemasks over their batting helmets. Sheeesh!!!! And where the hell did peanut allergies come from?? Why did I and virtually everyone I grew up with subsist on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for years with nary a complaint of allergies? Yet now, airlines and schools are bending over backwards to appease these self-indulgent peanut hypochondriacs.


Sadly, things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better, as more and more bizarre lawsuits pop up and more and more people portray themselves as victims to absolve themselves of personal responsibility. H.L. Mencken must have been a rich man!

Everyone Guilty in Duke Rape Case

May 10, 2006


I’ve watched with both amusement and bemusement the proceedings in the Duke lacrosse rape investigation. Amusement at the alleged victim’s defenders who try and portray her as a good mother and hard-working student, and bemusement at what type of young man you must be to find yourself at the center of such sordid rape allegations.


Reade Seligmann and Collin Finnerty, the accused, are certainly no choirboys. Finnerty, in particular, seems to have a disturbing and dangerous macho mentality which we so often see exacerbated by the pack psychology of college and pro athletes. This is the mentality that delights in the torment and domination of those smaller and weaker. Finnerty, it seems, is just this type of bully. Because of these rape allegations, Finnerty is now being forced to revisit an assault case from November in which he entered a diversion program after he and two friends beat up another man while shouting anti-gay epithets. It wouldn’t seem Finnerty has ever taken much time to empathize with or show respect to others, precisely why he finds himself in such a nightmarish predicament.


As someone who has slept with close to one hundred women (move over, Wilt) in various phases of sobriety, drunkenness, outright incoherence, and all points in between, I still have never been accused of rape. This, I think, speaks to the fact that despite my many failings, at the bottom of it all, I have a good heart and a fundamental respect for others. Even in my darkest moments of drunken foolishness, I don’t force myself on women.


Whether this fundamental decency is due to my upbringing (two great parents and two sisters), my environment, or sheer luck, it’s evident that several of the Duke lacrosse players are devoid of said decency. I don’t presume to know what went on the night of March 13th when the alleged rape took place, but it’s clear that at least some of the players in attendance were repugnant and loathsome animals. Threatening the strippers with penetration with a broomstick—though I, too, sometimes have odious and degrading fantasies, there are some you simply don’t act upon—suggests that the “pack mentality” was in full swing, as do the racial slurs that were reportedly hurled at the strippers. Ryan McFayden, whose vile e-mail about killing and skinning women while he ejaculated in his Duke-issued spandex was made public shortly after the accusations, is not someone I would want dating my daughter.


All that having been said, it is becoming more and more likely with each passing day that no rape occurred. While prosecutor Mike Nifong insists he has evidence, Reade Seligmann has produced what seems to be a pretty solid alibi, and the accuser’s credibility has taken a sizable hit. Aside from the fact that she made a prior accusation in 1993, claiming that she was raped by three men, it’s evident that this woman has something of a past.


She led police on a high-speed chase in a stolen car one night several years ago while drunk and driving on a revoked license, and finished this night of good clean fun by trying to run over the arresting officer. She had the first of her two children with one man while married to another, and by all accounts was looped out of her mind on the night of the alleged rape. This woman is not Shirley Temple. While this, in and of itself, shouldn’t keep prosecutors from sending these lacrosse players away for a long time if they raped this woman, her story seems shaky.


So this seems like a good time to dispel the laughable notion posited by the accuser’s defenders that she was simply a good mother and hard-working student who deigned to strip in order to take care of her family. This is highly unlikely.


Trust me, I know of what I speak. As one who bartended at a strip club on the notorious Eight Mile Road in Detroit, I’m here to tell you that despite the hokum the Dr. Phils of the world will try and shove down your throat about the inherent strong moral fiber of strippers—“They’re just good people trying to feed their families”—the truth is quite the opposite. On any given night, I could have (and often did) taken home virtually any of the strippers working. The vast majority had children out of wedlock, slept with numerous co-workers, accepted money for sexual favors in the parking lot, were substance abusers, and carried firearms. Don’t piss down my leg and tell me it’s raining. Indeed, besides the criminal past of the alleged victim in this case, her co-stripper at the lacrosse party was convicted in 2001 of embezzling $25,000 from a photofinishing company where she worked!!! The world of escort services doesn’t attract the best and the brightest.


This case is a sad and ugly episode, but one thing is becoming eminently clear–while all involved may not be getting what they deserve, they are certainly getting what they asked for.