Accusations of Pedophilia Fade Away If You're A Musical Phenom:

Dateline NBC often dedicates an entire hour of programming to Chris Hansen's show, To Catch a Predator. America watches as the seemingly clueless pedophiles stroll into a house expecting to take advantage of an underaged kid. Chris pops out of the woodwork with a microphone and cameras and asks the visitors what business they have in the house. Usually they're "delivering cookies," or "looking for jobs," or "trying to teach kids not to give out personal information on the Internet." As they leave, the cops pounce on them in the driveway and confiscate condoms and Coors Light from their cars. Next stop: National Sex Offender Registry.
Chris Hansen's web would never catch any of these creeps if they happened to be the main attraction of the Thriller video. They could simply build a sprawling mansion on a property named after an island in the Peter Pan fairytale, add a bunch of kiddie attracting carnival rides and let the sleepovers begin! Not to mention that Al Sharpton would come to their defense if anyone so much as questioned their intentions. If you invent a musical genre like Michael Jackson did, you can do no wrong.
Professional Athletes Having Mistresses Is Now Socially Acceptable:


I was sitting in a restaurant on Saturday when some shocking news scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen above me. ESPN reported that former NFL quarterback Steve McNair and his girlfriend had suffered fatal gunshot wounds. "What a terrible story," I thought. It seemed so random that a guy who had never made the news for the wrong reasons ended up being shot and killed so young.
As the details emerged, the story made a bit more sense. Steve's "girlfriend" was actually his "mistress." Steve had a wife and four kids and his lover suspected he was cheating on her with yet a third woman. Tabloids would refer to this as a "love parallelogram." Yet the rosy accounts of Steve's personal life continued to roll in. He was an asset to the community, a great father (save for the boinking of every third woman in Nashville), and most importantly, a model football player. There you have it. If you're a professional athlete, adultery is OK.
God Loves Infomercials:

When pitchman Billy Mays died, it was initially thought that his death may have been caused by a head trauma suffered while onboard a plane experiencing a rough landing. An autopsy later revealed that he died from heart disease and was taking the correct dosage of prescription pain killers for hip discomfort. While Billy can be accused of failing to impart upon Michael Jackson the importance of following the directions on the pill bottle, he otherwise appeared to be an average guy hellbent on keeping me awake at 2:30 in the morning with his OxyClean ads.
When looking for a reason why Billy passed, there's not too much to go on, save for a little plaque in the arteries and the strong possibility that God uses Mighty MendIt and wanted to thank Billy in person. I've never needed anything "As Seen on TV," but Billy's pitches made it hard to resist. Just typing this reminds me that I want some Hercules Hooks. They hold up to 150 pounds!
In Death, Even The Worst Men Are Made Heroes:

Michael Jackson was a predator, but no one can deny his contributions to music or his sick dance moves. Steve McNair was an adulterer, but on the football field, he played through more pain than any of us can imagine. Billy Mays had one of the most abrasive voices in television history, but he introduced us to some of the coolest products available for $19.99. Clint Eastwood's character in Gran Torino was an intolerant racist, but in the end, he made the ultimate sacrifice for an unlikely beneficiary. Are any of our perceptions about these characters entirely true? No. Like every other human, they have the capacity for tremendous good, and tremendous evil. But in the deaths of others, we see the fragility and conflict in our own lives. It seems only natural that we magnify their positive qualities and gloss over their flaws, however egregious they are. We're human too.




