Currently on trial for over 50 counts of sexual abuse of young children, many in the public and media alike have referred to Jerry Sandusky as a child predator. While no one can dispute the heinous nature of Sandusky’s evil acts, there is one segment of the population that may suffer due to this negative characterization: actual Predators. Since I’m not one, I’ve called upon a Predator who writes an editorial for his home planet’s newspaper called “One Predator’s Opinion” to weigh in on the impact that Sandusky’s trial has had on his species:
Let me tell you, folks: this here is one Predator that does not enjoy being lumped in with a sex offender at all. Say what you want about us, but this intrepid reporter refuses to let the media besmirch the good reputation of my Predator brothers and sisters. No sir, take it from this scribe: we Predators may be killers, but we sure as heck ain’t kid-touchers.
Before we talk about Sandusky, let’s address a stigma surrounding my kind that we’re all bloodthirsty hunters who love to kill. Malarkey. Predator society has many roles and responsibilities that need to be filled by a multitude of folks with differing skill sets. I myself write editorials for home planet’s newspaper, the Predator Press. While some of my brethren are out hunting commandos in the jungles of Central America, I’m at a city council meeting asking a Predator selectmen if he misappropriated campaign funds during the last Predator election season. And that’s fine. Everybody has a different skill. My old college roommate hunts unsuspecting prey. I keep the public informed about local Predator government. Don’t get me wrong, I kill stuff too, but for me, it’s more like a hobby. What do you expect me to do, not murder stuff? I’m a Predator, for Christ’s sake.
Now, with this whole Sandusky trial, the word “predator” is carelessly thrown around all the time. Which is actually confusing to me, because I didn’t realize that Sandusky possessed active camouflage and the ability to travel through time and space. Wait, you mean he doesn’t? Hmm. Well then, surely he must have a couple of large mandibles used for tearing flesh? No? No mandibles? I gotta tell you, gang – this guy doesn’t sound like much of a Predator to me. You think he’s scaring Danny Glover? I sure as hell don’t.
Calling this monster a Predator is a disservice to decent, honest, and God fearing Predators everywhere. Good-hearted folk who want nothing more than to come home at the end of a long day and hunt beasts for sport. I myself am just a simple Predator. I like to get up every morning, go to work, bang out a few columns, then come home and use my typewriter to trap and kill our planet’s equivalent of a warthog in my backyard. It’s a modest existence. At no point during my day do I even consider doing anything Sandusky-like. Sure, I may head off into the jungle on my lunch break to satiate my bloodlust and tear out a wild animal’s still beating heart, but as soon as I’m done with that it’s back to my desk to pen a human interest story on the 100 year old lady Predator who’s celebrating her 85th anniversary working at the Predator library.
Jerry Sandusky is absolutely evil, but you know who shouldn’t suffer for his sins? Predators who don’t hurt anyone except for the living things they terrorize and kill. Look, I’m a Predator. All my friends and family are Predators. My wife is a Predator. All the girls I’ve dated have been Predators, except for that Latina I hooked up with at Cabo San Lucas during Beach Week. My point is, I know Predators. They do not deserve to be grouped with this horrible man. Do we kill? Sure. But we do it cleanly and quietly, with maximum respect for our prey. And believe me when I tell you that there’s zero butt play.
So here’s my plea to my colleagues in the media, as a fellow journalist: stop sullying the reputation of my race to describe this abomination. We Predators have worked too hard to have our name dragged through the mud. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a family vacation to plan. This weekend I’m taking the fam to the beach so I can get some rays, write a 1,000 word feature on my son going off to Predator college, and mercilessly torture and kill a sea beast.