Tuesday, March 8, 2016

What I'd say if Erin Andrews was my daughter

<< computer troubles persist; imagine picture of teary Erin Andrews on witness stand>>

Congratulations, my darling, oh, apple of my eye, on a truly just verdict in Nashville. The jurors agreed it was fair you be awarded $55 million from that vile stalker and the hotel incompetents who allowed him to ruin your life.
May that princely sum forever serve as a reminder to hotel staffs throughout the land that their primary responsibility is to keep their guests safe from peeping creeps like David Barrett and those with far more sinister intentions.
Let’s hope what you’ve gone through will ensure no one else ever has to.
Now, I want you to take the entire sum of that award and donate it to benefit the women who go through far worse.
All of it. Every penny.
And you know just how much it pains me to say that because you know that I expect you to shower some of that loot on the old man who loves you more than life itself.
But you certainly understand how many gift cards that much money can buy. I read that gift cards to big box stores are like gold in women’s shelters because many battered women flee in the middle of the night with only the clothes on their back. That money could change their lives.
It won’t change yours.
I’m so proud of you. You are one of the top female sportscasters in America and it’s reported you earn $2 million a year. With your celebrity spokesperson roles and income from co-hosting “Dancing With The Stars,” I’ve read you’re worth $20 million.
That’s fantastic.
So giving the money away is not only good, it’s good PR.
You’ll be putting yourself on a high-ground pedestal from which your motives will be unassailable.
Sports fans today cite your opinions on which pitcher won’t fold under pressure. Give the money away and clergy will cite your opinions on life.
Which means more?
I think you know the answer.
Anyone with a soul was touched by your testimony. Your tears broke America’s heart.
Those aren’t the people I’m thinking about when I say it’s good PR.
I’m thinking about all the meatheads you said yell at you on the sidelines, the boneheads who think it was all a stunt, the ones who call you names that provoke less even-tempered fathers to reach for pistols.
Taking the money will only provoke the face-painted morons to spew more hatred.
But a whopper of an altruistic donation will not only shut them up, it will also earn universal praise from the people who employ you and the leagues you cover.
You could save more lives in one press conference than all the pink cleats and towels the NFL shoves down our throats in its fraudulent Breast Cancer Awareness months.
Many people were touched by your poignant concerns that one day your unborn children will see the videos on the internet.
Nothing you can do about it. It’s not going to go away.
All you can do is change the ending.
You can make it a story that ends with you receiving a big pile of money or one about overcoming adversity to help change the world.
Which is the better lesson to teach my grandchildren?
You decide.
And, really, given the trajectory of our selfie culture, it’s becoming more and more likely that one day soon all our descendants will have to include a professionally produced sex tape for their job interviews.
What’s tragic today could be mundane next week.
But the main reason I want you to donate all that money — every last cent — is because I want the whole world to see all of you.
The knuckle-draggers who’ve drooled over 4 minutes of keyhole video think they already have.
They are mistaken.
Let them see the immensity of your beautiful heart.
That’s all I have to say about that.
Now, what are you doing about scoring your old man some freebie passes for the Masters?

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