Real class and warfare that go together

The end of Scott Patrick Wilson's life

Do you remember what you were doing on Feb. 12, 2010? Me either. The only record I have of that date is a lame post about Valentine’s Day and chocolate. While the biggest worry in my life was some inane holiday, a 23-year-old young man was having his life terminated by an asshole of gratuitous evil.

On Feb. 12, 2010, it is reported that a man named John Goodman (no relation to the actor) was driving in his Bentley convertible. He ran a stop sign, smashed into a car being driven by 23-year-old Scott Patrick Wilson, and fled the scene. Wilson was left for dead, in his overturned car and at the bottom of a canal. The accident ended Wilson’s life.

Goodman was found later and had a blood alcohol level that was twice the legal limit.

The catch? Goodman is rich. Filthy rich. He inherited his wealth from his daddy. I checked prices on Bentley convertibles and they can cost a couple of big ones. The hundred-thousand variety of big ones.

The douchebag plead “not guilty” to a charge of vehicular homicide and currently awaits a criminal trial.

Remember the Penn State Scandal of 2011? There is one particular aspect of that incident that’s very germane to this current discussion. One that is elegant in its execution and evil.

It goes a little something like this:

Joe Paterno was well aware of the Jerry Sandusky scandal long before it became public. Four months before the scandal broke into national mainstream media, Paterno quietly sold his house. To his wife. For one motherfucking dollar.

$1.

The couple bought the house, together, in 1969 for $58,000, and lived there together ever since.

In 2011 at the time of the “sale” (those are air quotes coated with evil and contact poison) the house was valued at $594,484.40. Personally I would have rounded down to the nearest whole dollar but I guess Paterno wanted his fucking 40 cents. One must always endeavor to be accurate when fucking the human race. Or so I’ve heard.

You might be asking yourself, “Why in the name of Zeus’ butthole would Paterno sell his house, and for only $1, and why his to wife, of all people?”

Paterno was no dummy. He knew which was the wind was blowing. The Sandusky thing was going to be ugly. Very ugly. And some very aggrieved people were going to realize two things. Paterno could be sued and Paterno had money. It was time for the master strategist to reach for his playbook.

So he did the only honorable thing that crossed his brain. He sold his house to a woman who presumably already owned it in a tactic to prevent the house from somehow being used to represent some token form of justice for evil deeds that could never be undone. He wanted that fucker to be untouchable.

In yo face! Spike! Touchdown dance!

Compared to Goodman, though, Paterno almost looks like a pussy.

You see, what Goodman did was even more classy. Even more lawyered up. Even more elegant. It’s a simple plan that would make Satan himself blush.

Goodman, age 48, legally adopted his 42-year-old girlfriend. Yes, his girlfriend is now his daughter!

If you ever start to suspect there might be good in the world, my advice is to forget it. Not as long as shit like this is allowed to happen. Legal? Kiss my ass. Someone put a stop to this shit!

Goodman’s lawyer publicly went on record saying a pending civil lawsuit by family of the victim has nothing to do with the insanely bizare legal move. What a fucking coincidence! The lawyer claimed it was all done so Goodman could yell, “Daddy’s home,” each time he walked into his girlfriend’s house. These guys with hundreds of millions of dollars and their little penchants, eh? You’d think rich dudes were out adopting their little gold digger nookies every day of the week.

As a matter of fact, it turns out that Goodman happened to have a trust established for his two (presumably) non-fuckable children. His newest baby girl, sweet little Heather, however, immediately lays claim to one-third of the trust.

Let us not overlook Heather’s part in this, either. She knew what she was doing. Wink, wink. It’s not like she was grounded. She’s a grown up little girl. She has free will. She had a choice. Something like this couldn’t have taken place without her full consent and cooperation. And something tells me that with her scruples that was no big deal. Me consent you long time, honey.

I wish I could tell you I was making all this shit up. I wish people weren’t this evil. I wish there was a God so that heaven would exist, and thus Hell would exist, too, so there would be a suitable place to send this guy. I wish I had never heard of the planet Earth.

I guess Goodman really paterno’d this one and kicked it up a notch – to a whole ‘nother level. Winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.

If I was on the jury, I’d vote death for this bastard. It would actually be too good for him. Sadly the best I can do is hope that he goes to jail and rots for a long, long time.

All I have to cling to is that sincere dream. That and the hope that he doesn’t somehow buy his way into conjugal visits with his daughter…