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At one point, Amendola told reporters it was unrealistic to think that Penn State officials were told by assistant coach Mike McQueary about Sandusky’s alleged rape of a young boy in 2002 and did nothing about it.
“I suggest you dial 1-800-REALITY,” Amendola quipped.
The sports website Deadspin quickly called the number, and reported that it was a phone sex service that charges 99 cents a minute and specializes in pornography for gay and bisexual callers.
Hilarious.
In the aftermath of sex-abuse scandals at Penn State — and now Syracuse — one of the most perplexing questions has been about the women who shared the beds of the accused. How on earth could they not have known?
…researchers say that cluelessness is typical: pedophiles’ wives are usually in the dark. What seems to fool the women over and over, says University of Arizona psychologist Judith Becker, is that the abusers are usually charismatic and popular—not creepy loners like the one who lives with his mom in the movie Little Children.
The Associated Press reported last night that it had obtained an email sent by McQueary to a friend in which, contradicting the grand-jury account, he said he did stop what he saw and did report the matter to the police. That means McQueary now has a credibility issue; defense attorneys make their living off credibility issues.
(Source: thedailybeast.com)
Well, unfortunately, we’re not going to be able to put out the fire, but we can do a nice job of containing the fire so that it’s not igniting so quickly and so fully that it burns down the entire forest.
We need to stop the daintiness and describe the alleged offenses for what they truly are in the vernacular to somehow try to capture the monstrousness. Not anal intercourse or oral sex, which sounds clinical, but butt-f—-ing and blow jobs and cock-grabbing and pants-groping and other assorted acts that the 67-year-old Sandusky allegedly inflicted on eight minor victims over a 15-year span, according to the 23-page grand-jury report, and resulted in 40 counts of serial sex abuse of minors.
Sometimes we were guilty of regarding him as more deity than man, as if he presided over us in mythological stand-up form. He was as much our own conscience as he was a football coach, and we made that pact and imbued him with that sort of power because we believed he would wield it more responsibly than any of us ever could. Maybe that was naïve, but we came of age in a place known as Happy Valley and naïveté was part of the package, and now that word isn’t in our dictionaries anymore.
Great moral men take care of these things. But he didn’t. This kind of thing could have happened at any university. But it could have happened the exact way it did only at Penn State, where everyone, from that cowed janitor to the president, takes his cues from Coach.
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