My interest in Oscar Fistorius pretty much end where his legs do, so you can imagine that I have no fucks to give about the international OUTRAGE his murder trial has brought about. I am quite astonished about the amount of attention this case is attracting. I mean seriously, a juiced-up professional athlete offing one of his side pieces and then denying all accountability is hardly something new or out of the ordinary. Still, this shit drags on and everyone from FAS face toddlers to chain-smoking grannies are sitting with their dinner on their laps GLUED to the screen.
For those of you who – like me – have been avoiding this story like a herp-ridden peen, allow me to give you an abridged version of this mess in chronological order:
- Fistorius is born in 1986 with some weird-ass birth defect and his legs were amputated below the knee.
- A natural meathead, Fistorius participates in all that is sport at school.
- A serious knee injury (yes, he has knees asshole!) forces Fistorius to leave behind sports like rugby and take up running.
- Fistorius becomes a professional juiced douche.
- Fistorius dates blonde highlight enthusiast, Reeva Speenkamp (speen is Afrikaans for cow-tits).
- Blonde highlight enthusiast, Reeva Speenkamp, gives Fistorius some sass.
- Fistorius does to Speenkamp what professional juicers do to lippy hoes.
- When asked what the fuck happened by the police, Fistorius said “uuuuh…dunno”.
- Fistorius brings the D-R-A-M-A by going full Linda Blair during the murder trial.
All the while, those following the trial are subjected to a translator that makes you want to borrow Fistorius’s blades to slice your own ears off. While this shit is going on and on and on, here is a reminder of the days when the only guns we were concerned about were the ones attached to his shoulders: