For a state shaped like a flaccid schlong, Florida sure likes to be the center of attention. First, there was the whole Bush v Gore fiasco, thanks to a bunch of cretins who lacked the ability to operate a voting machine. Then there was Casey Anthony, the woman who got bored with motherhood and decided to rid herself of her daughter, and now there's the Trayvon Martin situation, a situation in which Florida's idiocy is displayed like a two-headed chicken in a traveling freakshow.
Now, I'm not saying George Zimmerman is innocent or guilty of murder. For all we know, he could have the bodies of a dozen Chinese food delivery boys stowed away in the trunk of his car. For all we know, Trayvon Martin may have gotten what was coming to him. That's not for any of us to decide, that's the job of the police and the judicial system (and Nancy Grace). The problem is the way in which the great state of Florida handles these situations- with the grace of a rollerskating hippopotamus with advanced Parkinson's.
First, there was no arrest. For several weeks, we were told that Zimmerman was simply practicing his right to defend himself under the state's Stand Your Ground law. Naturally, it wasn't long until Al Sharpton showed up and essentially succeeded in organizing a lynch mob hellbent on vigilante justice. I'm not saying Rev. Sharpton is attention-craving race-baiter, but let's face it- the guy will pop up anywhere at the slightest hint of African-American suffering. A black woman orders a Big Mac and finds a hair in it, and Al Sharpton would be the first one on the scene crying foul and calling for a boycott of McDonalds.
And while the Trayvon's parents stoically mourned the loss of their child, the epitome of grace under fire, the Black Panthers decided to show their "support" by putting a $10,000 bounty on Zimmerman's head. Spike Lee even attempted to Tweet George Zimmerman's home address, which actually turned out to be the address of a sweet elderly couple who had to flee to a hotel, fearing for their very lives. And naturally, just as cowflop attracts flies, it wasn't long until a bunch of toothless redneck neo-Nazis showed up. The powers-that-be allowed the matter to get as ugly as a ten-cent hooker.
And now, "special prosecutor" (and I emphasize "special") Angela Corey shows up on television, pulling a complete 180 and announcing that Zimmerman would be charged with second degree murder after all. Whether you agree with this decision or not, you have to admit that the powers-that-be in Florida made the entire handling of the case look like a Three Stooges film, minus the cream pie food fights. The Trayvon Martin supporters had claimed from the start that the authorities botched the job like a budget-priced plastic surgeon, and after tuning into CNN, watching Angela Corey mug for the camera like an American Idol hopeful, I'm inclined to agree.
If you missed Ms. Corey's announcement, she pretty much said that she prayed with Trayvon's family and promised that the boy's death was not in vain and vowed to seek justice for Trayvon, even though he very well may have been bashing Zimmerman's head off the ground at the time. Let's face it, unless you were a witness to the event, you don't know what happened. Neither do I. And neither does Angela Corey, even though you can tell by her press conference that her lips were attached to the Martin family's ass like a hemorrhoid. Apparently, the words "innocent until proven guilty" mean nothing to Ms. Corey, who obviously appeared to be more enamored with her own fifteen minutes of fame than with justice- she took the podium wearing an outrageous tomato-red dress and more gold around her neck than Mr. T, smiling like she had won a lifetime supply of Rice-a-Roni from playing Plinko on The Price is Right, reciting her speech as if she were a third grader reciting the Gettysburg Address at a school assembly. Like the state of Florida itself, she relished being in the spotlight.
Yes, this is the true heart of the matter- Florida's ability to turn what would be a run-of-the-mill shooting into a total media circus. Who needs reality television when you've got Florida? You want political intrigue, you've got Bush v. Gore. You want a sports comedy? You've got Ozzie Guillen. A drama about child abuse? You've got Casey Anthony. Sweet baby Jesus, they allow their court hearings to be televised, for crying out loud. It's all about ratings, and that's why the powers-that-be waited nearly two months to make an arrest in the Zimmerman case, because making an arrest the day of the shooting wouldn't have amounted to much of a story. And without a good story full of drama and racial tension, how can any of the actors in this hideous play expect to land lucrative contracts for tell-all books and TV interviews?
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