hit the showers, champ

Dear i+i:
As a young man just embarking on a college coaching career, I witnessed what in all probability was the rape of a child by one of my superiors. I have this nagging suspicion that I should have gone to the police. FYI: just so you understand the whole situation, I did tell my dad and my boss about it. PLUS: I asked the guy to stop when I walked in on them. But I still wonder if I could have done more. What do you think? - Perplexed in Pennsylvania

Oh, PIP. You poor misunderstood young man. You poor, traumatized creature. My only answer is that I cannot POSSIBLY know how to answer this question, as it BEYOND MY CAPACITY TO IMAGINE the suffering you have known at the hands of these monsters who persecute you for your inaction when it is totally impossible for them to understand the kind of pressure you've been under.

First of all, they are badly underestimating the courage it took for you to ask your supervisor to to please stop raping that boy. You are a paragon of principled action, son, and don't let your detractors tell you different. If there are those ungrateful enough to call your morality into question, you stand tall, you look them in their lying eyes, and you declare in a strong, clear voice:

"I concur with you completely that the alleged sexual assault of a child that you interrupt while it is in progress and which you witness with your own eyes is nearly always wrong. However, I also live in the REAL world, where the dubious luxury of your ideological purity is not an option that is open to me. Furthermore, I'm not prepared to unequivocally declare that the boy in question was not by word, action, or inference totally fucking asking for it. I have known slutty children - so have you, if you're honest with yourself. I was not present earlier in the evening on the night in question. I was not privy to how provocatively the boy was dressed, nor did I hear the scandalous propositions he may have made to the accused. Because, let's be real, here, for a sec: we're talking about a kid, after all, who was caught in the act of having public sex. You have GOT to question the moral fiber of such a kid - if you have any integrity, anyway. Good DAY to you, sir."

I'm not suggesting this is what happened, but it does not require too great a leap of the imagination for us to imagine this kid, whom you colleague only wanted to mentor, for God's sake, working his Dennis the Menace magic, and causing this well-meaning guy to get all confused, and have a moment of kid-fucking weakness. Again - I was not there, so I'm not pretending to know what happened that night, but I can see this guy innocently sharing a Capri Sun® and then the kid makes some off-color "Respect the Pouch" joke, and pauses significantly and locks eyes with your friend. And your friend - who is a GOOD MAN with a LONG HISTORY OF SERVING HIS COMMUNITY - tries to dismiss it.

And again, I emphasize this is conjecture, later on when they're going to see Immortals, which is just a wholesome tale with a lot of great life lessons about honor and duty and doing squat thrusts together, a heroic tale of fit young guys in breastplates doing sweaty battle with grimy guys who need to wash their hair, this kid was maybe laying his little hand on your friend's leg all through the picture. Which your friend waved away.

And then still later, after your buddy - WHO AFTER ALL IS ONLY INTERESTED IN IMPARTING SOME OF WHAT HE'S LEARNED TO THE DESERVING YOUTH OF THIS GREAT NATION - drilled this kid at the gym on his weak-side ball-handling, and kid's waifish frame is bedewed with sweat - WHICH YOUR FRIEND TOTALLY WOULD NEVER HAVE EVEN NOTICED IF THIS WHORISH LITTLE BASTARD DIDN'T INSIST ON WEARING SLEEVELESS SHIRTS ALL THE GODDAMN TIME, SHOWING OFF THEM WILLOWY GUNS OF HIS - your friend suggests that Harlot Boy shower off so he wouldn't be all gross when your upstanding pal dropped him at home.

So this little mastermind cuts up his Ritalin, snorts it off the locker room bench like a club drug, drops his underpants, and says to your friend all sultry: "Can you do my back?" as he heads into the showers.

And your friend - who's been HAPPILY MARRIED TO DOROTHY FOR 45 YEARS, FOR PITY'S SAKE, AND WHOSE CONDUCT HAS NEVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT EXEMPLARY - resists this bewitching little strumpet - WHO TOTALLY KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING, BY THE WAY - as he starts belting out Rod Stewart's immortal 1978 cut Do Ya Think I'm Sexy, which, I mean COME ON - how does this little tease even KNOW that tune, much less Stewart's signature "I'm gonna take a dump on this stage" ass-dip dance move from the video? He wasn't even BORN in '78. Which is maybe an idea your buddy doesn't wanna land too hard on when he speaks up in court.

I mean, we've all been there, am I right? Cloud of steam. Nobody around. Shameless little cock magnet writhing and singing provocative hits of our youth. Who among us can assert beyond doubt that they won't strip down and lather up? Your friend was just heeding his natural impulses - I mean this whole "grown man no touch boys" is a comparatively recent Western construct, anyway: the Phoenicians were the fiercest warriors of their day and their commanders were known to have male concubines as young as SIX. I mean, yeah, this is for sure totally made up, but it FEELS true, you know what I'm saying?

I mean, I know the kid was ten, but… I heard he was tall for his age. So…

And, PLUS, OK? This witch hunt? Against you? TOTALLY unfounded.

You CALLED you dad. Which was super hard for you, since your dad is known to be quite scary. Who among us can forget Oscar-winner Robert Duvall's indelible performance in The Great Santini? And your dad is totally like that. So kudos to you for setting aside your significant anxiety to tell him about the ALLEGED sudsy tableau of inappropriate conduct before you.

AND you asked coach to please refrain from continuing to rape the kid. IF that was even what was going on - which I'm not saying it is, because all the facts are not in. This took a lotta guts on your part. This coach was your SUPERIOR - at one of college football's most STORIED DYNASTIES - so for you to request that he put his dick away, or at least quit pointing it at the boy, shows a lot of character and I for one don't think you're getting enough credit for that.

Maybe there's some validity to the criticism leveled at you for leaving the kid there when you took off. Again, I don't know. I wasn't there.

Plus, your youth. You were only in your late 20s when this went down, man. It's not FAIR of people to expect that you can make these kind of nuanced moral decisions ON THE FLY like this. All your friends are doing bong hits and playing Assasin's Creed (we hear it's awesome) - which is exactly what you'd way rather be doing, anyhow - the only reason you're in this pickle at all is that your Santini-dad pressured you into taking the gig in the first place.

So, for real, you should be dislocating your shoulder patting yourself on the back for your courageous half-action on that fateful night. There is not a THING you could have done different. There is seriously not a SINGLE WAY in which you could have improved upon your stellar performance in that tough, tough situation.

Oh. Wait. Hold up. I just thought of one thing. And this actually applies not just to that night, but to ANY FUCKING TIME YOU SEE THE ENGORGED PENIS OF A GROWN MAN WITHIN A YARD OF AN UNCLOTHED CHILD:

1. Send your fucking elbow rocketing into the eye of the assailant. If that fucking eye ruptures like a rotten grape, that is absolutely fine.
2. Kick the assailant until your leg cramps no longer permit you to do so. If he has internal hemorrhaging as the result of your prolonged and vigorous kicking, this is totally acceptable.
3. DROP A DIME on his pervy ass. RIGHT AWAY. RIGHT A. FUCKING. WAY. NINE ONE ONE are the only fucking digits you need to remember, Ace. I know your fucking dad is on your speed-dial, you gutless little pin-dick, but there are - prepare to be shocked - situations in life that transcend your fucking dad's involvement.
4. While you're waiting for the cops to come - I realize that your legs are worn out - snag a chair and beat this sack of shit toothless. 
5. This one seems pretty basic, but you clearly need a refresher: FIND THE KID SOME CLOTHES AND TAKE HIM AWAY FROM THE RAPIST YOU JUST SAW SODOMIZING HIM IN THE SHOWER, you drizzly little cunt. And speaking as a parent - if I EVER hear you trying to justify your cowardly inaction - and I mean EVER - I can round up a thousand dads in a fucking heartbeat to beat you with ax handles and pillow cases full of nine-volt batteries, chop you up with dull hatchets, and leave the worthless fucking chunks of you on your mom's back porch and videotape her reaction as she discovers them, so we can show it to scumbag chickenshits like you who lack the moral fucking clarity and the minimal spine required to PUT A STOP TO A PEDOPHILE WHOSE ASSAULT IS IN PROGRESS, so that the last fucking thing that those craven little cocksuckers see will be the bereft screams of your mom before we beat them to death, too. WE ALREADY HAVE A SHOW CALLED TO CATCH A PREDATOR, WE SHOULD NOT HAVE NEED OF A SHOW CALLED NOW THAT WE'VE CAUGHT THE PREDATOR,  NOW LET'S ROUND UP THE GUTLESS DICKFACES WHO STOOD IDLY BY. 

It is a great day for some football, though.