Okay. Let me take a breath here before getting into this…
Here we go.
I hate forced apologies. They make no sense. Adrian Peterson is just the latest example.
So we all know NFL star Adrian Peterson injured his kid by beating him with a switch, right? Okay, cool. You also know he defended his actions, right? Perfect; we’re all on the same page. So, now the NFL is suspending him without pay for being unapologetic. What?
Ugh, Dre, of course that’s a good thing! He deserves it because he beat his kid. Blah bleh blah blah.
Yes, I know he beat his kid, but here’s my issue: What good is a forced apology?
Do you know why people fake apologize? It’s because they have something to lose. It’s the same reason why someone would force another to issue an apology. In the case of the NFL, Peterson is a person with value who they’ll do their best to keep. If the NFL cared about the actual issue at hand, they’d just cut ties with him. They don’t care about the actual child abuse. They care about maintaining an image that was already marred due to their bungling of the Ray Rice fiasco.
They also care about that money. Football is the new American pastime, after all. That and The Walking Dead apparently.
I’m not the only one who sees this, am I? What game are we playing here? Y’know, I did the same thing when I was a kid. I remember sneaking into the kitchen one night when I was seven and housing a whole container of ice cream while watching late night infomercials. It’s the shameful road I had to walk as a fat kid.
A fat kids in the 80’s no less, when people were a lot less PC and a little more than fine with openly poking fun at your weight.
Anyway, my parents caught me and the first thing I said was, “I’m sorry.” But I wasn’t actually sorry. I just didn’t want to get in trouble or ruin the chances of my father buying ice cream in the future. If I was sorry about anything, it was getting caught. Do you know what my parents didn’t do? They didn’t say, “You better apologize or you’ll get a worse punishment.” They punished me until I decided to be fake remorseful on my own terms.
Well, sometimes I was actually sorry, but that’s only if I knew I hurt someone, unlike Adrian Peterson. Otherwise, I wasn’t sorry about sh*t. That ice cream was delicious as a mofo. There, I said it.
Peace out, party people.
Previously: Obama Loves Immigrants (Possibly)