Joe Paterno is out, and I say good riddance.

If you don’t agree, you’re no better than the assclown Eagles fans who defend Michael Vick, the lowlife Laker lovers who bow to Kobe Bryant, and the slimly Steeler suckups who still cheer Ben Roethlisberger’s name. You willingly support chum buckets all in the name of team spirit. A pox on your teams.

And big ole fuck you to Jerry Sandusky.

I mean, it takes a special kind of pervert to title his autobiography “Touched.”

Fucking sick.

Just like this passage from the intro to Sandusky’s “Touched.” It was written by former Penn State student equipment manager. There’s no way you can read this in light of the allegations and not shiver.

My first real contact with Jerry Sandusky came from a rather odd question he posed to me: “How much do you weigh, young man?” I was puzzled, because I knew he wasn’t interested in me as a linebacker, but I told him I weighed about 95 pounds. “Get up on that scale,” he ordered. I did and the locker room scale topped out at 96.

“Not bad,” Jerry said, trying to sound as mean as possible, “but you still have some work to do.” Sensing my confusion, Jerry stared at me and continued. “We gotta get you up to 100 pounds before you’re ready to fight me.”

Fight him? I barely knew him. “When you get up to 100 pounds, it’s gonna be you and me in the center of the locker room in a boxing match. Then I’ll show you who the real boss is. It’ll be you and me eyeball-to-belly button.” The last remark was made in reference to my five-foot height, but I smiled and let it go.

Let it go?

Yeah, it sounds like that’s what a lot of folks at Penn State did. Most of all Joe Paterno.