Monday, December 03, 2012

An open letter to Bob Costas

and Jason Whitlock:
Do you know what kept me safe? Not some piece of paper. Not a judge tut tutting at him and shaking his/her finger and telling him to leave me alone. Not the police, who, after all, would only be able to respond once he had caused me harm. No, what kept me safe was my Glock.
You want to take that from me. You want me to be unable to defend myself. You want to leave me vulnerable to those out there who look at a five foot tall fat girl and think “victim”. You want me to be unable to protect myself when there is no one else around to do so. You want to make me dependent on others to provide for my basic safety and security.
Let us not beat around the bush, you want to sacrifice my life on the altar of your political beliefs. How dare you? Honestly, who do the two of you think you are to demand that my blood be shed so that you may preen about what wonderful people you are?
 You really need to RTWT


Windy Wilson said...

Of course the batshit moonbats are in full force there, saying the author brought it on herself by marrying the man in the first place and generally talking as if she actually had to give the guy a new asshole in the middle of his forhead instead of merely letting the word that she could do this influence his free time activities so that she is, today, able to write the slapdown of Bob Costas so eloquently.
Tam has an excellent blog on him as well, and one of the comments is priceless.
Among what pass today as "journalists", Bob Costas is not held in high regard -- He is regarded as a "jock sniffer" for his lightweight sports reports.
Who knew?

Firehand said...

What? Blaming the victim?!?
Ah, but that's right, now HE'S the victim....