Their Own Personal Meat Market

Dear Clinton Portis,

Sometimes, dear sir, you really need to keep your mouth shut.  I've written to you about this before, but I didn't really care about your feelings regarding Jim Zorn.  I do care about your insulting remarks about women reporters, though, because I'm a woman and, as such, I'm appalled that you didn't get it right.  To refresh your sporadically concussed memory, a female sports reporter, Ines Sainz, is complaining that New York Jets players sexually harassed her.  When apprised of the situation, you had some choice words that irritated me.  Let's break it down together, shall we?

"You know man, I think you put women reporters in the locker room in positions to see guys walking around naked, and you sit in the locker room with 53 guys, and all of the sudden you see a nice woman in the locker room, I think men are gonna tend to turn and look and want to say something to that woman. For the woman, I think they make it so much that you can't interact and you can't be involved with athletes, you can't talk to these guys, you can't interact with these guys.

"And I mean, you put a woman and you give her a choice of 53 athletes, somebody got to be appealing to her. You know, somebody got to spark her interest, or she's gonna want somebody. I don't know what kind of woman won't, if you get to go and look at 53 men's packages. And you're just sitting here, saying 'Oh, none of this is attractive to me.' I know you're doing a job, but at the same time, the same way I'm gonna cut my eye if I see somebody worth talking to, I'm sure they do the same thing." (Transcript courtesy of D.C. Sports Blog's Dan Steinberg)

Problem 1: You didn't even mention how women shouldn't be allowed in the locker room in the first place because they have no right to take jobs that belong to men.

Problem 2: Um, hello?  These women need to be reminded that it's really hard for them to cook your dinner if they're not at home in the kitchen.  Where was that comment, Portis?

Problem 3: Where's the fact that women who walk into a room full of naked men are clearly on the prowl?  Don't be kind and give them the benefit of the doubt by saying "I know you're doing a job," because if they're actually good at their jobs, they can arrange for interviews outside the locker room with fully clothed players.  These female reporters are treating you poor men like their own personal meat market and I don't think that you should stand for it any longer.

Problem 4: Why didn't you question who these women slept with to even get into the locker room in the first place?  Affirmative action can get them into the stadium, but that's not enough to get past security.  If you know what I am saying.

Problem 5: Maybe it's because you're a guy and guys don't pay attention to fashion, but you didn't even wonder what Sainz was wearing on the alleged day of harassment?  Granny sweater and mom jeans = no harassment allowed, but anything-that-makes-it-evident-that-she's-a-woman?  That's like giving someone a Freedom to Harass card (Ben Roethlisberger approved) and men and women everywhere should know this and respect it.

Problem 6: Too much implication and too few direct statements.  I want you to say definitively for the record that any female (reporter or not) who walks into a room and gets to see fifty-three male "packages" is a damn liar if she denies finding at least one that's attractive.  And not only is she a liar, but she's also being spiteful for dragging down the fragile egos of those poor men.  Come on, women!  Show some respect and let these men know that the only reason why you wanted to be a sports reporter was to ogle their goodies!

Problem 7: While you're at it, ask when it became a crime to give a woman a compliment?  If she feels dirty afterward, that's her problem, not yours.  And she probably has daddy issues.  Or low self-esteem.  Or too high self-esteem.  OOH!  Maybe she was on her period.  Women are such witches during their time of the month (except for me--I'm still a delight and I'll cut anyone who suggests otherwise).

Problem 8:  Other topics regarding female reporters that you didn't address but should have: their dumb questions, how they turn everything to some story starring themselves (this girl at my work is always doing that and it's so freaking annoying to everyone*), how none of them really know anything about sports, how they cry all the time, how they don't know when not to put a drunk on live television (I'm looking at you, Suzy Kolber); you really missed the boat, Portis, and I expect someone with a name like Clinton to have a little more knowledge of women than you showed the other day.

Severely disappointed in you,

Karen (Who is on Her Way Back to the Kitchen Immediately and Deserves to be Slapped if Dinner isn't Served at 5:00pm on the Dot)

P.S.  For homework, please watch these prime examples of women failing at being sports reporters

*the girl is me

Snyder and Jones, BFFs 4 Lyfe!

Dear Dan Snyder,

You really had me fooled.  I knew that you were a jerk and bad at being an owner, but I thought that all of your missteps and attempts to stuff cash into the holes of a sinking ship were done out of blind love of the Washington Redskins.  "Of course I hate him," I'd say in confidential tones to friends, family, and strangers on the Metro, "and of course I'd rather have anyone else as an owner, but at least he loves the team.  It's a lot like the love of a toddler for a pet that he will squeeze until its eyes bug out or it dies, but it's still love."

Love?  I scoff at the word.  An owner who loved his team would not pal around with the enemy.  That's right, we know that you and Dallas Cowboys' owner, Jerry Jones, are BFFs 4 lyfe.  I bet that you even have a photo of the two of you in a frame on your desk that says it.  I can excuse the Papa John's commercial, mostly because of my great love for Papa John's pizza (seriously, Papa John, if you read this I'll trade my first born child for a lifetime supply of your pizza...or even a months' supply), but you couldn't just keep it to friendly, tongue-in-cheek commercials with the Redskins' arch-nemesis, could you?  It's a rhetorical question, but I'll go ahead and answer it for you just in case you're a bit slow--NOPE, you couldn't just keep it there.

When I stopped by Redskins Parents' house this morning to eat Redskin Brother's stale popcorn and help rid Redskins Dad of a Corona Light (okay, it was more like 1:30pm, but that's still morning for me on the weekends), I felt figuratively warm all over because the family was watching football together already.  I had no warning of the upset that I would soon receive.  As everyone complained that I hadn't written any letters recently and they were surely going to start a hunger strike soon in hopes that I would bless them with something new*, I said that I was looking for inspiration.  I picked up the Washington Post in hopes of finding something that would inspire me, but all I saw was Donovan McNabb's advertisement for Capital One.  He was supposed to look confused because he's new in town, but I think that he was confused because he was in an ad without Campbell's Chunky Soup in his hands or his mommy by his side.  (Is she going to lace up your sneakers tonight, too, Donovan?).

Anyway, I lacked inspiration and Redskins Brother gave it to me when he told me about THIS interview:




That's right, Danny boy, you can't hide from the truth: your family vacations with Jerry Jones' family.  This is like Harry Potter and Voldemort hanging out and laughing about how they try to kill each other five months out of the year, but during the off-season they like to go to Boca and argue good-naturedly about whose turn it is to serve the mimosas.  Actually, that's probably an unfair comparison because Harry Potter has some good qualities and actually has some reasons to be an angsty teen whereas you are far too old to be a teenager.  And I'm waiting on the good qualities.

But seriously, Jerry Jones?!  It was bad enough watching you look up at him with that sickening puppy-dog look of adoration on your face during the interview, but hearing Jones blather on about how he's so surprised that the Redskins haven't won a Super Bowl under your reign of terror was like eating one insult after another.  Of all the owners in the entire league, you had to choose the only jerk as big as you as a mentor.  In fact, if I were faced with the choice of you or him as the owner of the Washington Redskins, I think that my mind would implode and I'd stand in place until someone rescued me.  Hopefully someone with ice cream...or Papa John's.

The jig is up.  You don't love the Redskins; in fact, I think that your friendship with Jerry Jones proves that you're probably working against the Redskins from within.  After all, who cares if you lose every season if the fans keep coming back game after game and paying $8 for a Bud Light?  You suck.

Go Redskins!  Beat Dallas!

Karen

*I'm lying.  They did not do this.