stronger, have the ability to jump higher or can run faster than the
average person.
For example, let’s say Lou the electrician ends up killing somebody
while driving drunk. I’m pretty confident that Lou’s going to jail for
a while, and I’d be willing to bet my house that he’ll spend more than
24 days in jail.
I don’t care if he’s the best wire guy in the union,
he’s screwed! But if he was, hypothetically speaking, a premier NFL
wide receiver, chances are that he might get an easier sentence.
Another example? How about Tony, the former restaurant waiter. He
was the man when it came to taking orders and making his customers feel
at home! Unfortunately, his life ended tragically: He was murdered by
the girl with whom he was cheating on his wife. Do you think the
restaurant would hang up pictures in honor of Tony’s distinguished
career? Would they say things like, “Everyone makes mistakes, but
nobody could recommend a special like good ole Tony”? I doubt they’d
focus only on the positive: “He was a true warrior. Let’s try and
remember the way he refilled everyone’s water before they even asked.”
I don’t know. Maybe I’m just jealous. I think I’m pretty good at
what I do. I just feel that if I legitimately did make a mistake that
ended up taking someone’s life or scarring my family forever, I
wouldn’t get off. I wouldn’t be remembered positively, no matter how
funny my Jam Scams are.
I know. You’re probably thinking that regular people get light sentences, too, sometimes. Or you might think that someone like Michael Vick is not getting enough of a break.
But sometimes I start thinking about the other suffering people no
one’s talking about, like the family of the guy killed by the drunk
driver or the wife who found out that her husband was murdered by his
girlfriend. And it’s at those moments that I feel like the ability to
throw a ball 65 yards or run a 4.3 40 aren’t as important as we think.
