Are you kidding me, Geraldo?
Guns don't kill people, according to Geraldo Rivera. Hoodies kill people.
“I think the hoodie is as much responsible for Trayvon Martin’s death as George Zimmerman was,” Rivera said on Fox.
“What’s the instant association? It’s crime scene surveillance tapes. Every time you see someone stick up a 7-11, the kid is wearing a hoodie. Every time you see a mugging on a surveillance camera or they get the old lady in the alcove, it’s kid with a hoodie . . .
“Trayvon Martin, God bless him, an innocent kid, a wonderful kid, a box of Skittles in his hands. He didn’t deserve to die. But I bet you money, if he didn’t have that hoodie on, that nutty neighborhood watch guy wouldn’t have responded in that violent and aggressive way.
“You’re not gonna rehabilitate the hoodie. Stop wearing it. . . .
“There is some things that are almost inevitable. I’m not suggesting that Trayvon Martin had any kind of weapon, but he wore an outfit that allowed someone to respond in this irrational, overzealous way and if he had been dressed more appropriately… I think unless it’s raining out, or if you’re at a track meet, leave the hoodie home, don’t let your children go out there.”
That’s a bit much coming from a guy with a mustache.
When I see a youngster with a mustache, I instantly dash to the other side of the street. Best case scenario, he is some sort of hipster who will force me to listen to Mumford and Sons on vinyl and comment on its “warm, rich sound.” Worst case scenario, he is Joseph Stalin. More probably, he is just a particularly mediocre U. S. president.
You are not going to rehabilitate the mustache. Stop wearing it.
Every time you see video footage of a young bride being tied to the railroad tracks, there is a mustachioed villain behind it.
I don't need to list the other men with mustaches. Snidely Whiplash. Dick Dastardly. Don Corleone.
If I see someone with a mustache, I instantly assume that he is about to run me over with an old-fashioned bicycle that has one large wheel and one tiny wheel.
If I see someone with a mustache, I know for a fact that he is about to paint some melting clocks and title it “Persistence of Memory,” and I need to get out of there.
I am just saying, if you are anywhere near me and happen to have a mustache, the law will no longer bind me. Everyone with a mustache is literally Hitler. I will be so overcome with all my recollections of the past crimes of men with mustaches that I will go charging blindly at you and nothing will hold me back.
That’s an automatic reflex. I’m not defending it.
I don’t need to say how ridiculous this is. There has already been a Million Hoodie March.
But this logic is so frustrating.
“If you hadn't worn that, you'd have been fine.” This is your fault. If you hadn't been made of straw, I couldn't have lit you on fire.
Just because you’re dressed as a circus clown doesn’t give me the right to hit you in the face with a pie.
Women have the same problem. Don't wear that, or you're going to be dragged off by your hair to someone's cave.
Guns don't kill people. People don't kill people. Hoodies kill people. Those shorts will get you raped, and if you wear too much makeup or your skirt is just an inch or so above the knee or your sweatshirt looks too much like the one that always turns up on the surveillance footage, forget it, you don’t have a face or a name and you might as well be carrying a sign that says Commit A Crime Against Me, Please.
I am only going to say this once. And then again, for years, for the rest of my life, because so many people have said it already that it clearly doesn’t land.
Hoodies don’t kill people. Clothes don’t commit crimes. The victim’s accessories were not responsible for what you did to him. You were.
Clothes may make the man. But they don’t make you kill the man. It’s your inability to see that there’s a person under them that does.
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