It's Not My Fault

Seventeen years ago, an Illinois McDonald’s restaurant became the target of a lawsuit in which a woman was burned by a cup of hot coffee.  She placed a cup of scalding coffee between her legs, and the coffee spilled, burning her thighs.  She successfully sued McDonald’s for a bundle of dough - $160,000, to be exact – because she didn’t know the scalding coffee was hot.

 

This could very well be a lawsuit in the making against the schools she attended as a youngster.  After all not everyone would equate ‘scalding’ with ‘hot.’  In any case, this accident was deemed to be McDonald’s fault because the ‘victim’ was too stupid to realize she could be summarily burned by hot coffee.  It wasn’t her fault.

 

The baseball Hall of Fame recently held its meeting to announce its list of inductees.  There were none.  That proposed list from the Baseball Writers Associated should have contained names such as Sammy Sosa, Barry Bonds, and Roger Clemens, but didn’t.  Charges of racism have been leveled as a trump card for Mr. Bonds, a pretty pathetic move from a guy who said “I refuse to sign for white people,” when speaking of autographs.  But, I digress.

 

These are only three or the well-paid players who failed to compete on a level field by using performance-enhancing steroids to better hit and throw the ball in order to play game most amateurs and semi-pros would be glad to play for nothing but the enjoyment of the game itself.

 

It must be borne in mind that the ‘juicing’ athletes were victims – some of whom actually testified before Congress – only to deny to the press, the government, and their fans that they did not use anything except their God-given gifts of athleticism.  They, too, failed to tell the truth but, it’s not their fault, either.

 

And, speaking of playing a game, some guy named Manti Te’o, who is a football player for the University of Notre Dame, became a household name when it was discovered that a woman to whom he was engaged didn’t exist.  This sordid hoax came unraveled when his stories to various press agencies about her untimely death didn’t hold water.  Any sympathy for this “most decorated collegiate player of all time” quickly vanished when it was learned he never even met this mystery woman.

 

Yes, he was engaged to her, dated her exclusively on-line, and didn’t attend her funeral.  He admitted lying to his father about meeting her in person, and to the rest of the compassionate public.  But, it wasn’t his fault.

 

Enter Lance Armstrong.  Mr. Armstrong was a professional bicyclist who seemed to possess super-human abilities in his field.  He rode to seven Tour de France victories and participated in the summer Olympics, representing the United States.  It appeared amazing that this world-class cyclist was virtually unstoppable.  Various organizing committees accused him of ‘doping’ in order to gain a competitive edge over his fellow riders.  He vociferously denied any and all charges, even leading a slander lawsuit to prove his point.

 

America’s sweetheart, Oprah Winfrey, in an earnest attempt to boost her Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN,) of late had Mr. Armstrong appear as guest.  He admitted to lying about his misdeeds without a smidgen of remorse.  He ruined bike races for other real athletes for years and said he didn’t feel bad about it.  He turned the red, white, and blue into the black and blue.  Yet, it was not his fault.

 

Such a sad state of affairs cannot and should not be tolerated.  Responsibility comes with rights of any kind.  If you cannot control a cup of coffee or your uber-ego perhaps you need to stay home where life is safe and not scrutinized by the judging public such as me.

 

If you want to make a fool of yourself, don’t do it at my expense or insult my intelligence.