by Amy McGinnis
Jon Stewart, in his eloquent wisdom, said it pretty well. “You lead a state, Christie, that’s half Giants fans, half Eagles fans, and you’re groping the owner of the Dallas Cowboys? Why don’t you just break a copy of Born to Run over the head of a Hurricane Sandy victim, you backstabbing piece of sh*t?”
Here’s the deal: if Christie’s Godforsaken choice of team fandom is what keeps you from voting for him in 2016, then perhaps you should reassess your criteria for a qualified presidential candidate. If you’re like me, though, the “I’d Sooner Elect a Jellyfish” ship sailed long ago. Recent events, though ethically questionable, are NOT the reason I’ll pass on the “Christie 4 Prez” bumper sticker. His political record speaks for itself; if you or someone you know lives in New Jersey, then you’re likely up to speed on his knack for mismanaging state government and throwing constituents’ well-being to the wind.
The recent display of vomit-inducing, same-sweater-wearing, Cowboy-loving, Eagles-fanbase-bashing garbage is not why I would never cast a vote for Chris Christie. That decision was cemented long before Christie (and his Marcus Vick wannabe brother, Todd) opened his grotesquely large and food-filled mouth about anything sports-related.
My issue with Christie’s fan behavior is that it offends my sensibilities as a human being with functioning eyes and ears. Listen, Christie; I get it. There was a sale on sweaters at Slovenly Disgraces R Us, and burnt orange is your favorite color. Fair enough. Just please, Christie, I implore you: take yourself, your disgusting brother, your BFF Jerry Jones, your clogged arteries, your “Eagles fans are worst in America” garbage, and shut up. I’m not interested in a single word you have to say, especially about my football team.
Tags: AmyMac, Chris Christie, cowboys, Eagles, jerry jones
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