The second I saw Chris Brown on the Billboard Music Awards, my stomach started throbbing more painfully than it had all day. I don't understand how someone who pummeled his girlfriend could be so well received. And he lip-synched. I'm so old, you would think my jaded soul would accept that there are no consequences. Rapists, batterers and murders are praised every day. I turned the TV off. Okay, I watched the Kardashians and realized all they do is nosh. They make me want to wear white and eat nonstop. These are not bad things. The Rutgers spycam dude got sentenced to a mere 30 days*. Fury has erupted on FB, and I remember how incensed I was, crying, when I heard that William Kennedy Smith walked free from a rape charge. There are fifty shades of gray in some cases even though we can react emotionally and feel that this a-hole pushed his roommate those last few inches over the edge (that's how I feel, too). Spyboy will probably get justice on the outside. His life is over ... unless he gets a book contract and a reality show.
Cheering myself up with The Bachelorette, ginger ale and a dry potato.
*See lesson of first paragraph: There are no consequences.
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