I am seismically undisturbed by professional athletes getting concussions. It is the price of doing business. My business.
Nobody gives a shit about these brain shakeups save a trashcan of ravenous lawyers and plantation NFL owners.
Football players are almost by definition profoundly stupid. Even if uninjured it is a miracle they can find their huddle on a good day.
It is a job. Do I care if my electrician fries himself in my living room while trying to reconnect my TV? Not one fucking bit.
I know who is to blame for this national assembly of empathy for my pituitary heroes. It’s the kale crowd and their delusions about living a safe and healthy life.
My generation was more productive dropping LSD after breakfast every day than these hollow vessels spending meals tastelessly broadening the respirator time at the end of their significantly uneventful lives.
If Big Ben Rothenburg does not play in the Steelers game, I hope all the kale in the world dies.
I feel better now.