My Christmas Wish...Hint: It Belongs to Jerry Sandusky

Joe had to know.

I  like to keep this blog kind of light.

Though occasionally tempted to veer off on a tangent of political indignation or topical fury,
I restrain myself because I prefer to attempt to distract or amuse my readers in a world where amusement and distraction can be paramount to maintaining sanity.

However, as a mother and a human, I'm a little distracted myself today, but not in a good way. 

Having read a news story this morning about additional molestation charges against Jerry Sandusky, the assistant football coach at Penn State, I am going to confide what's at the top of my Christmas list this year: I would like Jerry Sandusky's penis in a jar. A bow on the jar (or the penis) is optional.

A "Hit-Elf will be needed.

I would also like those who knew what was going on, to face charges and appropriate jail sentences. But, since I have wavering faith in the judicial system and this is a Christmas wish list, I want Mr. Sandusky in jail for life. Death is too good for him.

Since convicted child molesters are on the lowest rung of the prison pecking order and are often dealt with aggressively by other inmates, what say we throw in a solid, daily beating for Mr. Sandusky, as well?

Okay, Santa?

Based on what we know of how such things affect people, Jerry Sandusky robbed his victims of their childhood, the ability to trust...to sleep without nightmares, healthy sexuality, a normal adulthood and, possibly, the potential to successfully function as spouses and fathers. He was a bully of the worst kind.

Thanks to his despicable charitable organization--a veritable stable of victims-in-waiting, he victimized victims--children already in need of a helping hand from a caring adult but who, instead, were groomed for abuse.

The information that a child, during an attack in a basement bedroom of the Sandusky home, screamed for help knowing Mrs. Sandusky was upstairs but that no one came, suggests Mrs. Sandusky needs to be in a cell herself.

If one of my cats farts softly in his sleep, I hear it. If Seth gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I am aware of it. Unless Mrs. Sandusky is stone deaf and was tied to her bed, she heard that child's screams and should have done something about it.

Mrs. Sandusky, a mother herself, also insists that the victims are making it all up.

Evil.

And, no, I don't care if she was afraid of him. A large man with feral teeth and cruel eyes, he is obviously terrifying. But where there's a will to do the right thing, to save a child--there's a way, Mrs. Sandusky

I have controlled myself mightily, dear readers. I wanted to use words like bludgeon, castrate and wood chipper in this post but thought I'd spare you.

But I do hope I get what's on my Christmas list this year. 

Perhaps instead of keeping the jarred penis on the mantle, I might donate it back to the football program at Penn State with the stipulation that it be placed, front and center, in their trophy case so that everyone who turned a blind eye to the situation over the years, can see it every day.