The steaming hot babe pictured here is Judge Susan Nelson. She’ll be listening to eighty minutes of horseshit lawyergab today in Minnesota — forty minutes from the owners and forty from the players. After hearing this spellbinding oratorical bullshit, she’ll either say something interesting or trot off to chambers and make everyone wait a week or so for her bit of something.
If she makes a ruling of some kind, it will be appealed to the Appellate Court in Denver, where three judges will uphold her ruling or trash it. The other something she could do is kick everyone out of her courtroom and order the players and owners back into mediation. This would be the best action for NFL fans. But fans have been on a losing streak since the Super Bowl ended, so it’s hard to get optimistic now.
Personally, it would be great to see this fine looking hot tomato show some balls scratch a few eyeballs here and send these legal language abusers back to the bargaining table. Perhaps some well chosen snotty remarks could accompany her scolding.
Women who make it all the way up the lawyer ladder and into a judge’s chair are likely to have some hard bark on them, so a surprising decision might not be all that surprising. She’ll be sitting in a room full of heavyweight attorney guys who are yapping about a league owned by a bunch of rich guys who preside over a world of superduper sized guys who are all having a testosterone fight. What would you do if you were gazing out upon this boys world phenomenon?
Well, if the hormones were reversed and it was a guy presiding over a women’s club gone amok, there would be quite a temptation to see if there was a way to make all of them start crying and hitting each other with their purses. Of course, that’s a typical male temptation. Being, you know, guys. Giving it the old hee-haw treatment. Women aren’t wired that way, though. They’d rather discuss something until everyone had lockjaw and had confessed every agonizing moment they’d ever experienced in life.
You have probably surmised by now that Skeebette will not be reading my column today. I don’t get to be a chauvinist pig much any more without severe consequences, but it’s kind of fun to put the old hat back on for a day. I might even saunter out to the street and whistle at some skirts. Give it the old Hey, Baby treatment. Try not to get maced or 911ed for reckless boob ogling.
Okay, Ms. Nelson. Let’s see what you got for us today. I’m gonna go take a leak on my neighbor’s rose bush for old times sake. Let me know if I miss anything. Go ahead, sweet lips. Surprise me.