Open Letter to the Jerks Who Killed Someone Over a Pair of Air Jordans
Well done. You have reached the absolute lowest point on the criminal totem pole. You are now ranked down there with people who steal Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve and worthless lowlifes who literally take candy from babies. You killed a guy over a pair of shoes.
I must confess I barely knew Air Jordans still existed. I'm fairly certain most of the kids who buy them aren't even old enough to remember the guy they were based on. The man who died was 22, meaning he was born six years after Michael Jordan was drafted by the Bulls. He was one when Jordan won his first title, three when he left the NBA to play baseball.
I understand they are expensive. But what is this, the '90s? Are you going to steal some flannel shirts next so you can "be like Eddie Vedder?" Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll find the one magic pair that turns you into Allen Iverson circa 1998. More likely, you just murdered someone for a stupid pair of basketball shoes.
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And, let's be honest, they are not even a really nice pair of shoes. Sure, they are okay tennis shoes, but like most sports shoes, they'll be worn out or out of style within a year. But, even if they were plated in gold and came with a lifetime supply of hand jobs, they still aren't worth killing over.
Also, how freaking cliché are you? Killing someone for a newly released pair of basketball shoes is to lowlife punks what closing down an orphanage that can't pay the rent is to a rich banker who looks like Mr. Potter from It's a Wonderful Life. It's like a wealthy woman shoplifting out of compulsion at Barney's because she doesn't get enough love at home from her cold, unfeeling husband, or Taylor Swift writing another breakup song. You are the punch line to a really stupid joke. You're Leno material.
I hope you get busted and put in a cell with some big badass whose little brother really wanted a pair of Jordans for Christmas but couldn't afford them, or you got the one pair of Nikes with razor blades inside them like the pumps in Steve Martin's Cruel Shoes.
All because you killed a guy over a pair of shoes. Seriously, he died because you shot him over a pair of freaking shoes. A family doesn't have a son/grandson/nephew/cousin because you murdered him for his shoes.
Way to go, assholes.
Everyone with Feet
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