2015 was a rough year, especially for those who believe in the absolutism of beat cops and badges, or that the bootstraps of hardworking Americans can’t possibly snap. This was a difficult year for innocent bystanders, or anyone thinking they were safe. But it was, and remains, the most challenging yet for those convinced that guns are God-given.
At first I thought I’d go with the excuse offered by Subway Jared and his lawyers who, prior to his prison sentence for child-ruining, blamed his Subway diet for his pervert crimes. Essentially, these morally challenged morons claimed that, had Jared “received help,” he wouldn’t have “traded a horrible food addiction for a horrible sex addiction.” Subway Jared is about to find out Where Excuses Go to Die. (more…)
Emo pets managed to upstage my long list of 2014’s “best” excuses…
Okay, had I been aboard the plane onto which a woman carried her 60-pound emotional support shit ‘n piss machine, the conversation would’ve likely gone something like this:
Me: Seriously? In coach?? This is a first class move. Since when do poors get to pull off such entitlement?
Pig Lady: Oh, but this is my friend. He’s an emotional support pet. I have a prescription and a letter from my doctor.
Me: I see. Must be a prescription for combatting powerlessness with selfishness. What’s the letter say, dare I ask?
Pig Lady: How dare you! This is a psychiatric service animal! He’s critical to my mental health and/or treatment.
Me: “And/or treatment”…You’re hilarious! I’ve got ten bucks that says before this oversold, flying gas can touches down, you’ll get spit on by one of these nice passengers.
Pig Lady: You’re disgusting.
Me: Conniving baloney. Treatment of what, by the way, therapeutic reduction in personal resilience?
Pig Lady: You judgmental, narrow-minded ass!
Me: DUDE! You brought a squealing, urinating pig onto a flight where passengers are already treated like farm animals. Plus, that guy there is Muslim, so you’re definitely freaking him out. What if I kept kosher, or the lady in front of us was allergic? Try to think outside of your own headspace for a minute.
Pig Lady: Excuse me! I have documentation from a mental health professional stating that I require my pet to accompany me –
Me: Sell it someplace else, Charlie. Sounds to me like you live behind a fantasy excuse for staying curled up in a little ball in the face of life’s challenges. I’m telling you, if this plane nosedives, I’m using you as a battering ram to get to the emergency exit.
Pig Lady: Oh my God! You’re threatening me!? I’m telling the flight attendant. Excuse me, miss? This man just said –
Me: I think you have pig poop on your shoes.
Pig Lady: I do NOT! And who the hell are you to tell me my mental wellness is an excuse for –
Me: In New Guinea they’d eat you and your incontinent buddy there.
Pig Lady: I can’t believe this! Air Marshal! Air Marshal!
Me: (singsong): La-La-La-La, I’m not listening. One, two, Buckle my shoe; Three, four, Knock at the door…La-La-La…
Welcome to the inaugural 2012 Excuses of the Year Awards, in recognition of the San Andreas Fault lines running through the justifications of our favorite national newsmakers!
What better time to launch a contest with special emphasis on whose bullshit is the most moist than in an election year? We know already that two of our “Shame Candidates” will get extra attention in the coming weeks — as will, apparently, some of their supporters. Even late-comers like Al Gore, with his high-flying, high-brow, and just plain high “altitude defense” of Obama’s limp dick showing at the Denver presidential debate last week, makes the cut here — no excuse goes unconsidered. So stay tuned for these other nominees while I go ahead and bypass the whole contest by giving top honors to…
Of course our first champ is former Penn State assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky, convicted of sexually abusing 10 boys over a 15-year period! Yesterday Sandusky was officially banned from spending eternity in Hell by the Devil himself when he accused his judge of rushing his trial, his victims of conspiring against him, and the rest of the planet of making money off of his being a monster in time for Halloween.
You read that right, folks: the day before Sandusky was sentenced to 30-60 years in prison for luring small boys into a game of “Tickle the Old Man’s Penis,” his lawyer actually released an audio statement from his jail cell wherein he claims to be the victim. He’s confident, Sandusky says, that “we” will continue to protest his innocence, and in a particularly glaring sign of soft-headed delusion (plus a fascinating window into inhuman levels of denial), he refers to the very crimes for which he was convicted as “disgusting acts.”
Now THAT’s the mark of a winner. Our winner! I can’t imagine anyone topping this one between now and the end of the year, but I’ll be on the look out.
By the way, Sandusky’s lawyers said they’d appeal his case because they weren’t given enough time to prepare his defense. Ha! That this P.O.S. himself would wind up at the mercy of an excuse is funny and fitting.
"Where Excuses Go to Die is an insightful and hilarious piece of work. I can’t think that prison is anyone’s idea of a good time, but it definitely gave John something with which to apply his very obvious talent."