Category Archives: NFL

Hot Air

Refreshed

So, yeah, I’ve taken the last few days off. Loyal Pencillistas have been wandering the streets in a daze, wondering what’s important in the world.

I needed a little time off because, frankly, I was tired of hearing my own voice. After nearly a week of sweet, sweet silence emanating from my normally clackety-clack keyboard, Pencillistas need fret no more; I’m back.

No. 1 No More

Dr. Ben Carson, who thinks this holy land is more than perfect except for all those Democrats and liberals running around in it, has occupied the No. 1 goddamned spot on the best selling hardcover nonfiction list the last few weeks. That is, at least according the New York York Times.

Only in the coming week will Carson be supplanted at the top of the list, by the guy who founded the XKCD website, Randall Munroe. The new No. 1 is Munroe’s What If? Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions. (We in the book selling racket get advance peeks at the list.)

Speaking of absurd, let’s ponder the former No. 1 placeholder.

Book Cover

Ben Carson, as you may or may not know, is a rah-rah speaker for the Right and is being touted in some quarters as a potential candidate for President in 2016.

He’s one of those guys who look out their front door and say “Everything looks great in my neighborhood,” and then conclude anybody who’s complaining about their lot either hates America or is a bum.

Carson was the director of pediatric neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital and professor of neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. He was a brilliant brain slicer (he retired in 2013) but he’s a tad ill-informed in certain other areas. For instance, he’s fairly certain Barack Obama is both a communist and a Nazi, he thinks America would have turned into Cuba were it not for Fox News and conservative talk radio, and he speaks loudly and forcefully about evolution despite not knowing much about it.

Here are a few Carson nuggets on evolution:

◆ [C]arbon dating and all of these things really don’t mean anything to a God who has the ability to create anything at any point in time. (Right Wing Watch)

◆ (People who believe in evolution) might have more difficulty deriving where their ethics come from, (as opposed to) “Those of us who believe in God and derive our sense of right and wrong and ethics from God’s word” (and who) “have no difficulty whatsoever defining where our ethics come from.” (Media Matters for America)

◆ I certainly believe in the biblical account of creation…. I believe that God is all powerful. He can do anything. So, if he can create a man who was fully mature, he can also create an Earth that is fully mature. (Faith & Liberty)

He also buys into the idea the Christians are a persecuted class in America. He says of his fellow religionists: “They’ve been bludgeoned into silence.”

And that, babies, is one of the bestselling nonfiction author in America.

The Beat Goes On

NFL players, of course, make their living assaulting and battering each other for the joy and pleasure of tens of thousands in the stands and tens of millions sitting before their flat screens.

It follows, then, that many NFL players employ their brutal talents in the areas of give and take with their true loves as well as the disciplining of their small children.

Houston PD

Adrian Peterson Allegedly “Switched” His 4-Year-Old Son

The scarring of one’s child still is considered acceptable in some quarters of this holy land. Many citizens have commented on the interwebs that it’s a damned shame a fellow cannot even spank his child anymore without being hauled in for fingerprints and a portrait. Now, I was never made aware that “spanking” necessarily resulted in abrasions, contusions, and blood, but what do I know? I have no children. (You’re welcome.)

I always figured the drawing of blood was the red line, as it were, that separated good, clean, wholesome child-beating from sadism. A parent, I learned a ways back when, had a responsibility to belt the bejesus out of his or her kid now and again, if only to keep in practice. Marks, blood splatters, or any other identifiable evidence of conscientious brutality were frowned upon.

Still, Minnesota Vikings star running back has garnered a degree of support from the free swingers of America.

Similarly, some have expressed support for Ray Rice. The erstwhile Baltimore Ravens star running clocked his beloved fiancé with such gusto last winter that he was compelled to drag her inert body out of the elevator in which he delivered the KO. One commentator of note who has not joined the tsk-ing chorus is Rush Limbaugh; in fact, Limbaugh decried the “feminizing” of our holy war AKA football after Rice was fired for allowing his roundhouse to be recorded.

That’s no surprise. What was shocking this past Sunday afternoon, however, was the presence of numerous females at the Baltimore Ravens game actually wearing Ray Rice jerseys.

Ravens Fan

Supporting The Ravens, The USA, And Domestic Violence

I’ll listen to arguments that the psychology of the victim of spousal abuse is so fercockt that one can’t expect her to easily exit her situation. No argument on this good Earth, though, can convince me that any female — nor, for that matter, any male — has a justification for wearing a Ray Rice jersey. It is, de facto, an asshole move.

As if all that’s not hive-inducing enough, word came this weekend that San Francisco 49ers radio announcer Ted Robinson was suspended for two games for criticizing Janay Rice. Robinson came down on her for not speaking up about the pounding she received from her then-fiancé as well as her subsequent decision to marry the man who separated her, admittedly temporarily, from consciousness. “That, to me. is the saddest part of it,” Robinson said on air a week ago yesterday.

Given that piling on Janay Rice is viewed as a personal foul by scads of folks in this USA, it still must be conceded that whatever Robinson said did not and could not harm her as much as Ray Rice’s fist that February night. Nevertheless, Robinson’s two-game jugging is precisely the penalty initially assessed against Rice when his battering of Janay became known six mos. ago. (Keep in mind it wasn’t until the NFL’s brand was sullied by the release of the video of the incident that Rice was given the axe. Punching the lights out of your beloved is nothing compared to harming the league’s image.)

So, acc’d’g to the NFL, Robinson is as big a creep as Ray Rice.

Wow.

If this puzzles you, let me explain. The powers that be in this great nation have little or no interest in improving the lot of any oppressed or persecuted minority. Any concessions to labor, blacks, Jews, Central American asylum seekers, battered women, Muslims, females in the workplace, or anyone else not endowed by god with power, privilege, a penis, and pale skin either have or will be made unwillingly and only after wrenching struggle. That, kiddies, is America.

What the Big Boys have given to the weak and wretched is control over language. So, if some slug on the assembly lines lets the N-bomb slip through his lips, he can expect to be punished within an inch of his professional life. But when corporate boardroom hoodlums make decisions to stymie the advance of any minority, well, by golly, how dare you want to interfere with their free market rights to run their outfits as they see fit?

Ray Rice knocked Janay Rice into brain trauma land. Ted Robinson said some words that may be offensive to someone, somewhere. To the NFL that’s as bad — correction, worse — than what Rice did.

And the NFL wants women to be happy about it.

Hot Air

This Must Stop

When do we stop treating grown women like children?

When do we stop making excuses for adults who make blatantly self-destructive decisions?

When do we stop men from beating up women?

All the above questions are tied together and only when we answer them — unemotionally, tactically, and strategically — will we make progress against the warthogs who slug people, specifically the women they purport to “love,”  into unconsciousness?

The general consensus is we should tread lightly upon the feelings of Janay Rice, the victim of a videotaped assault and battery in an elevator last February that left her unconscious and caused her fiancé to drag her like a sack of trash to their hotel room where who knows what ensued.

Rices

Newlyweds

Janay Rice has married that man in the intervening seven months. She told the world yesterday that she and Ray Rice share a special love, one that mean people are trying to destroy. Their method of destruction? Raising Cain about the beating and dragging incident that so far has earned Ray Rice a wink-and-a-nod plea deal wherein he must attend some kind of counseling sessions while avoiding jail time.

Janay Rice owes the girls and young women of this holy land a better course of action and narrative. There is only one proper and fitting reaction to Ray Rice’s assault upon her: that is criminal prosecution and Janay Rice’s firm commitment never to allow him within a thousand feet of her for the rest of their lives.

To wax poetic about their special love only ensures that more young women will be punched into a transient brain trauma — and worse.

Some say Janay Rice has suffered enough. She, apparently, does not share that opinion because she’s remaining intimate with the uncharged criminal who battered her.

Janay Rice doesn’t love herself enough, others say. To which I’d add she doesn’t give the slightest shit about the millions of females at risk of suffering a similar fate.

By staying with Ray Rice, by marrying him, by extolling their special love, she’s telling those millions of females that the crime he committed upon her is a blip, a hiccup, a silly little mistake, the kind we all must endure in the strange, confusing process of coupling. That, too, is a kind of crime.

Janay Rice didn’t ask for all this but reality has a fascist streak; it imposes upon us roles we have no desire to play. Reality jackbooted her that February night in the casino/hotel elevator. She no longer has a choice about being a spokeswoman for violent abuse. The incident became notorious solely because Ray Rice is good at running around with a football. Millions of impressionable young females are watching Janay Rice, taking cues from her.  She has told them that the ugly violence Ray Rice visited upon her not only is forgivable, it’s excusable, understandable, and even, she has implied, partially her fault.

I want Ray Rice to spend a good long time in jail. I want Janay Rice to stand up for herself and for countless girls and women.

And I’m tired of excuses. We all should be.

Hot Air

Cool

How do like sleeping with the windows open all night long these days?

Now we come into fall, perhaps the prettiest, most comfortable season of the year. Natch, I didn’t always feel this way. For the longest time, well into my adulthood, I dreaded the coming of September and October — that meant it was time for another school year. For an inveterate school-hater like me, the fall was a jail sentence.

Schoolroom

How Did I Survive This?

Anyway, the cool is fine by me at this advanced stage of my life. So cool was it yesterday AM that I spied one woman walking east on Kirkwood Avenue wearing a heavy fall coat and a scarf wrapped around her neck.

No, let me amend that — it wasn’t that cool yesterday morning. Politics, apparently, isn’t the only thing that causes people to overreact.

Patriot Games?

One of Bloomington’s most respected and beloved citizens has told me she was informed by her bank that the institution no longer wants her business.

Which seems odd, considering the fact that all sorts of reprobates and sociopaths are welcome to deposit their questionably-earned gains in banks from sea to shining sea. You may recall it took a federal statute to force banks to look into enormous deposits of cash. You know, the kinds of deposits drug kingpins make.

Cash

Another Day, Another….

In fact, it was only this past winter when JP Morgan Chase began asking people who wanted to make huge deposits for ID to make sure they were indeed account holders. JPM was forced to institute the new rule in the fallout from the Bernie Madoff affair. Spokesbeings for the bank said the rule was intended to weed out money launderers.

Nice of them. Of course, it took a US Justice Dept. investigation to get the Chase banksters to become such concerned citizens.

In any case, the Bloomington woman was phoned one recent morning by a rep from her __________ branch. She was told, after some hemming and hawing, “Your business is no longer welcome at __________.”

The woman says she’s been a customer of the same bank for at least 10 years. The bank was taken over first by another financial outfit and then by __________. The way the woman sees it, she should be considered a __________ customer for all those ten-plus years.

When the woman asked why __________ was doing this, she was told the Patriot Act was to blame. Or, at least, __________’s interpretation of same. The woman adds that all the __________ reps she spoke with (several people took the phone during the call in question) were “extremely apologetic.”

Bush Signing

George Bush Gleefully Signs The Patriot Act

Nevertheless, the woman was highly offended. One rep explained to her that because she was closely related to someone who “works for a foreign government” the bank could not longer do business with her under its own guidelines. The woman and her relative were natural-born citizens of a Middle Eastern nation. The woman has since become a naturalized American. “I’m not an Arab-American,” she says. “I’m an American.”

She may be an American, but she’s no longer a  __________ customer.

[MG note: I will not identify the woman or the bank until I hear back from the bank.]

This Bloomington woman’s story comes at a time when Arab-Americans across this holy land are being given the bum’s rush by their banks. At least she got something of an answer when she asked why. Acc’d’g to a story in the LA Times, most Arab-Americans being told their accounts are being closed are given no reason at all.

I’ll continue digging into this story. Stay tuned.

Black Eye

You wanna get even madder?

Okay. The National Football League didn’t give former Baltimore Ravens Ray Rice a lengthy suspension for punching his then-fiancé into unconsciousness until after video of the incident was uncovered by the gossip site TMZ.

[I'm not going to provide a link to the TMZ story because I don't believe disseminating the video serves any purpose other than to hurt the victim again.]

NFL czar Roger Goodell had suspended Rice for two games after the incident first was reported. The video was revealed the other day. Suddenly, Rice’s two-gamer has become an indefinite lay-off.

Rice

This Man Punched His Fiancé Into Unconsciousness

In other words, it’s sorta bad for an NFL player to punch the shit out of his beloved. It’s super bad if the act is caught on video.

Rice, BTW, has been fired by the Baltimore Ravens. Again, the team took no action against him even after he made a plea agreement with prosecutors over the incident. The Ravens acted only when they were embarrassed by the video.

More BTW: Let’s talk punches. It takes a monster blow to induce unconsciousness, despite what you think you’ve learned watching the movies or TV. Unconsciousness resulting from a blow generally occurs when the brain stem or the spinal cord near it are twisted or impacted. Such twisting occurs when the puncher delivers a roundhouse, forcing the recipient’s head to turn violently and suddenly. The impact trauma can occur when the inion, a small projection at the base of the rear of the skull, collides with the spinal cord, again due to a blow that causes sudden head rotation.

This is why boxers are taught to grit their teeth when they’re punched and why they work so hard to develop strong neck muscles. The idea is to resist the rotational forces of the cross punch.

So, Ray Rice didn’t merely jab at his fiancé’s face when he struck her in that casino elevator last February. He swung a roundhouse. He wanted to cause damage to her. He belongs in prison.

As for his then-fiancé — she is now married to him. She belongs on a psychiatrist’s couch.

Roger Goodell and the top officials of the Baltimore Ravens? They belong in hell.

Union, Yes

WFIU is reporting that Bloomingfoods employees are considering unionizing.

Bloomingfoods

All I can say is, Yay!

Hot Air

What’s Important

Thursday night, some 32 million Americans watched a sporting event.

No, it wasn’t a game to decide the championship of a big pro sports league. Nor was it any contest at all between a couple of teams.

2014 NFL Draft Set

The Holy Altar

It was, in fact, the goddamned National Football League draft. That’s the yearly process by which the 32 teams of the planet’s most financially successful athletic outfit divvy up the latest pool of talent to emerge from the college ranks. General managers, talent coordinators, coaches and other swamis and gurus study the omens, signs, and symbols and then proceed to tab some 224 slabs of cartilage and sinew who will, it is hoped, lead their teams to Super Bowl glory.

And one in 10 human beings residing in this holy land watched said sacred rite.

We are, comrade Pencillistas, a deranged freakin’ nation.

Parking Perspective

Still steamed about Bloomington’s downtown parking meters?

Perhaps this’ll make you feel a tad better about it all:

NUMH Parking

Yep, these are the rates you’ll pay if you want to visit your sick old grandma at Chicago’s Northwestern Memorial Hospital in the city’s Streeterville neighborhood.

Admittedly, Streeterville — AKA the Gold Coast — is Chi-town’s most ritzy ‘hood. It’s where, for instance, notables and plutocrats such as Ann Landers, Oprah Winfrey, and the Pritzkers have lived through the years.

Still, $11.00 for a 45-minute drop-in on Bubeh? Or, should your Nonna not be clinging to life in one of Northwestern’s luxe suites, and instead you desire to grab a lunch at Gino’s East on Superior Street, you’ll end up paying $32 just to stash your dilapidated Corolla. Which is prob. more than the beater is worth.

Makes a buck an hour seem a bargain, no?

Truth? Bah!

Buzzfeed’s Andrew Kaczynski found this gem of a “quote” attributed to Prez Barack H. O. in a mailer sent out by the National Association for Gun Rights to benefit Libertarian loon Rand Paul:

Gun Bullshit

Q: So, like, when did BHO say this remarkable thing?

A: Never.

Here’s what the Nazi/commie/Stalinist/abortionist/gay sex tyrant actually said, back in December, 2012, after the Sandy Hook School shooting rampage in Newtown, Connecticut, that resulted in the deaths of 20 kids and 6 adults:

In the coming weeks, I’ll use whatever power this office holds to engage my fellow citizens — from law enforcement, to mental health professionals, to parents and educators — in an effort aimed at preventing more tragedies like this, because what choice do we have? We can’t accept events like this as routine.

Same thing right?

The New Version

After perusing a few gun rights web sites I feel I have a greater understanding of that landmark document, the Constitution of the United States of America. As a public service, I thought I’d write a new version of it, just like the Christianists do with their Bible on occasion. Here’s The Constitution, Glock Version, 2014:

Article I: We the People are nothing without Guns.

Amendment 2: Blah, blah, blah, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Other ideas, powers, and rights: Nothing really.

Signed,

Jesus Christ and George Washington

Politics, my friends, can be so simple.

Jesus Gun

Your Daily Hot Air

Silly Stuff

Recently, I took a couple of those silly BuzzFeed quizzes that supposedly tell you all about yourself. One was What Career Should You Actually Have? and the other was How Much of an Asshole Are You?

The conclusions? I should have been a professor and I am not an asshole at all.

From "The Nutty Professor"

Who, Me?

Jeez, what a load of horseshit!

Meter Mad

A hot Bloomington tomato named Candy Allday found herself in Oak Park, Illinois, this past week. She stopped at a Mexican restaurant with her ever-lovin’ husband and a couple of friends late-ish one evening.

Candy Allday is used to feeding B-town parking meters until the ungodly hour of 10pm, so she began digging in her purse for quarters before entering said eatery. Lo and behold, she stopped and gasped.

“I’ve gotta take a picture of this,” she blurted. And so she did. And here it is.

Photo by Candy Allday

Candy Allday wonders if certain Bloomington City Council-folk can read.

Let’s Dance

Bloomington’s own Brynda Forgas is no longer owned by her business, The Hidden Closet. After a long stay in the Fountain Square Mall, Forgas moved her Closet to Kirkwood Avenue, right behind the Book Corner last year. Biz was no better on Kirkwood than it had been in the relatively quiet mall.

So Brynda decided to call it a retail career a couple of months ago and announced she’d be locking the door one final time as soon as the Christmas season was over. She’s never looked happier.

An old pal of hers, Paula Chambers is set to open her own shop, The Dance Circus, in Brynda’s old space Tuesday, February 4. Paula’s another Bloomington fixture. She’s the boss of the Hudsucker Posse hula hoop girl gang. She, too, is moving her digs out of Fountain Square.

Dance Circus

The Dance Circus will continue to feature scads of dancewear and shoes, hula hoops (all handmade), and plenty of other fun stuff.

Chambers hopes to get better exposure and foot traffic for her store in the new location. She’s pumped. “I’m gonna make a splash on Kirkwood,” she promises.

Go visit Paula. And spend some cash, wouldja?

… And The Blacks Were Happy Under Slavery

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell gave the assembled news media of the world a state of the league address last week in advance of yesterday’s Super Bowl. Then he opened the floor for questions. One intrepid reporter asked him about the Washington club’s nickname, you know the one that’s a racial slur. Goodell pulled a Vinnie Barbarino and said, essentially, Whuh?

Pushed further, he elaborated. Why, he claimed, the folks we’re slurring consider it no slur at all!

Do you believe it?

Screenshot from Bleacher Report

I sure as hell don’t.

No, Really, Let’s Dance

Gridiron Hot Air

Sporting Rants

Okay, I come to this with a pre-existing bias. Football, I’ve pontificated here and elsewhere many times before, is one of the dumbest-assed games imaginable.

I mean, how can you root for a pro football team when your favorite players are likely to have their knees folded sideways at any given moment in the big game? That and the game represents all the most dearly held fetishes of the Republican Party: the forceful acquisition of real estate, corporate welfare, violence, extreme obeisance to authority, regressive labor subjugation, and the only role for women in it is as scantily-clad window dressing. So, yeah, I’m likely to cherry-pick evidence that the game ranks somewhere on the spectrum of crimes against humanity. But, honestly, how can you explain these two stories of the past weekend?

◗ Superstar running back Adrian Peterson played a football game Sunday, a mere two days after his two-year old child died. The kid died due to injuries suffered from an alleged beating at the hands of his mother’s current boyfriend.

Peterson is the best player on the Minnesota Vikings. The Vikings played the Carolina Panthers, an historically mediocre team. The Vikings themselves seem to be on a fast track to last place this year. So, this game did not mean anything in the larger scheme of things, even if that scheme includes an undue and ghoulish preoccupation with the Vikings’ final record for the 2013 season, considering the circumstances.

Even with their superstar running back, the Vikes lost to the mediocre Carolina Panthers 35-10 yesterday. There will not be a championship parade in Minneapolis next winter after the Super Bowl. But even if the Vikings and their fans had a realistic hope of winning the NFL’s big prize, wouldn’t a father want to take some time to remember his son and to help the kid’s mother get through this horrifying time? Is football that important?

To Peterson it is. It was also important to him to send a text message to Laura Okmin, a Fox Sports reporter, explaining his decision. Here’s the message, a screenshot from the Fox Sports broadcast of the game:

Screenshot from Fox Sports

So god told him to play. God, apparently, thinks fathers (and brothers) should be playing football rather than grieving over their lost sons (and siblings). I would like to think that Adrian Peterson might have spent his Sunday afternoon helping to console the kid’s mother or assisting with whatever arrangements that need to be made.

But, of course, god “wants good” to come of the kid’s death. Peterson did score a touchdown, so all is right with the world.

Peterson told another reporter the idea of not playing never even crossed his mind. “It was all about praying to god for the strength to get through and help my teammates,” he said.

No mention was made of the kid.

◗ Houston Texans quarterback Matt Schaub suffered an injury on a play Sunday afternoon against the St. Louis Rams. Schaub had been sacked and as some several hundred pounds of humanity was lifted off of him, he lay on the turf holding his lower leg and writhing in pain.

As Schaub lay on the ground, the agony clearly visible on his face, the loyal Houston fans cheered. No, not for Schaub being courageous and steely and a game warrior. They cheered because maybe, just maybe, they’d get a new quarterback. Huzzah! Turns out he’d hurt his ankle badly enough that he was unable to continue to play in the game.

Houston fans got what they wanted.

Schaub Injury

Hooray!

See, Schaub has committed the unforgivable sin of not being the best quarterback in the league. He hasn’t allowed the city of Houston to climb on his back so that he might carry them single-handedly to a Super Bowl victory.

Why, it’s positively unpardonable.

Instead, Schaub got his limb turned into a gruesome origami and — voila! — now Texan fans have hope again.

I’m torn now. I don’t know who is more loathsome, pro football players or pro football fans.

Baseball & Football

A master at work.

Your Daily Hot Air

Masters Of The Universe

ALEC is meeting in Chicago as we speak. You know that, don’t you? I assume they’re refining their plan to control the Solar System.

Solar System

ALEC’s Realm

Because, you know, complete global domination is a half-assed goal for losers. And those who populate the sinister halls of ALEC secret headquarters are winners. How do we know they’re winners? They have money and, in their universe, all that counts is money.

What is ALEC? Bill Moyers presents a swell picture of it here. ALEC Exposed does the same thing here. Or check Right Wing Watch’s mugshot of the gang here.

If you’re too lazy to click on the above links, just know that ALEC espouses, fights for, bankrolls, and — if it has its way — will soon impose by fiat upon us the following, among many other pro-corporate, fuck-you-people initiatives:

  • Stand your ground laws
  • “Shoot first” laws

John Wayne

ALEC’s American

  • The end of public education
  • Schools for profit
  • Defanging environmental standards and regulations
  • Union-busting
  • Deregulating the energy rackets

In its infancy (ALEC is celebrating its 40th birthday in Chi) the club worked tirelessly for prayer in public schools and against the Equal Rights Amendment. Later, ALEC-sters were among Saint Ronald Reagan’s most ardent stage door Johnnies. Now, it is simply the legislative muscle behind the corporate mob.

A number of people I know or am acquainted with are making nuisances of themselves outside the Palmer House Hilton Hotel where the ALEC-sters are perfecting their nefarious plots. These people are to ALEC what mosquitoes are to you and me. And ALEC is employing its very own flyswatter, in the form of the Chicago Police Department, to brush those nuisances away.

The thing is, mosquitoes may indeed be nuisances to you and me, but their bites remain with us for days and days. Sometimes the bites even interfere with our sleep.

Somehow, though, I don’t feel the ALEC archvillains are going to lose any sleep over the buzzing on East Monroe Street. They don’t seem to lose sleep over anything much.

Here are some citizen vids of the protests and arrests:

Meanwhile, corporate media hasn’t yet received the phone call alerting them to the protests. Golly gee, I wonder why!

BTW: If you’re interested in learning whether or not your elected representatives in the statehouse or in Congress are bought and paid for by ALEC, dig the interactive map here.

Now, turn off your TV and let’s do something about these slobs.

The Washington Slurs

In brighter news, Slate, the neo-lib online mag that’s usually as loath to making waves as a man standing up in a canoe, has decided, editorially, it shall never allow the moniker Washington Redskins to sully its portal again.

Redskins Logo

Vintage Washington Logo

Cool. Even though Washington NFL team owner Daniel Snyder thus far has stood on his head to insist he’ll never, ever, ever change its nickname no matter how many Indian groups or sympathizers raise a stink, it’s only a matter of time before the Redskins logo hits the dustbin. And none too soon, I may add.

Then again, the NFL and its devolved fan base really don’t care about trivialities like crippling leg injuries, scrambled brain syndromes, and the families of degenerate gamblers, so why would they care a whit about insulting a Holocausted people?

Redskins Cheerleader

Slurring Two Groups With One Stone

Ah, forget it: The Redskins they shall ever be. That doesn’t mean we have to say the word, does it?

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