Assholes and the Women Too Stupid to Figure Out They're Being Lied To
Ahhh, the things men do to get dates. We've all been known to bend the truth slightly -- about our age, about our job, about our clean criminal record. Brian Jackson, a Pittsburgh native, is in hot water again. Last year, he was sentenced to 30 days in prison and psychiatric evalutation after he passed himself off as Ben Roethlisberger and his backup, Brian St. Pierre, in an effort to get dates with women. And now he's in trouble again, for impersonating yet another Steeler.
Let's look at Jackson, Roethlisberger, and St. Pierre first, for comparison:
Apparently the work with the shrink didn't really pan out, because Jackson is now facing seven years in prison for "theft by deception," after he stole $3,200 from a woman by claiming he was another Steeler, tight end Jerame Tuman. Let's see this resemblance:
Not only is Jackson incredibly desperate, he's also dillusional. Not only did he pick three Steelers who look nothing like each other, none of them even remotely resemble him. Don't people in Pittsburgh know what the Steelers look like? They're World Champions, for crying out loud! One for the thumb! But what does this say about this woman? Even if she didn't know what Tumane looked like, couldn't she tell by that perfectly spherical belly that Jackson is not in good enough physical condition to even look at a staircase, let alone play professional football?
What's worse is the load of crap he gave her to get her money. What millionaire football player needs to have his palms lined by some sugar mama for trips to the casino and new rims, and why in the world would they not be able to accept that money in check form? Thinking about the life this woman has is making me incredibly depressed -- to be so thirsty for love, and to be so blinded by the prospects of meeting a "real life NFL player" that you're blind to the piss-poor lies he's passing on....well, it just seems like a pretty lonely existence. One that consists of lots of cats, Ramen noodles, maybe a jug of cheap wine, a box of tissues for crying purposes, and late-night cable TV. Actually, sounds a lot like my sophomore year in college.
