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Penn State Cult (Joe Knew)

Third place: ... If we get beyond the "sex act" claims, what do we have? Sandusky "brushed my penis" (assuming that's true).
53061,xcitefun-toothbrush.jpg
 
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The thing that kills me about the cult is that 99% of the time the simplest, most plausible explanation is the correct one. Yet they have created this incredibly, complex web of conspiracy, relationships, errors, vendettas all coming together to somehow screw JoePed. Seriously, what is the more plausible explanation for what happened?

Scenario A) that an egomaniacal old coach who had spent a lifetime carefully crafting a national image as the saint of college football would cover up wrongdoing in his program to protect that image or

Scenario B)
sherlockholmesagameofshadows.png


And I am quite certain that more than one cultist has a room that looks like this.
 
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The thing that kills me about the cult is that 99% of the time the simplest, most plausible explanation is the correct one. Yet they have created this incredibly, complex web of conspiracy, relationships, errors, vendettas all coming together to somehow screw JoePed. Seriously, what is the more plausible explanation for what happened?

Scenario A) that an egomaniacal old coach who had spent a lifetime carefully crafting a national image as the saint of college football would cover up wrongdoing in his program to protect that image or

Scenario B)
sherlockholmesagameofshadows.png


And I am quite certain that more than one cultist has a room that looks like this.
Well at least one, LaJolla Lion, has either lost the faith or has inadvertently spoken a truth against the myth:

"One man didn't build this program and one man sure as hell cannot tear it down."
 
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Even the mutants who assert he's innocent are explaining his interest in kids with phrases like "oral devotee, both ways" and "chaste pedophile." These people are evil, and I really wonder how much of that is limited to posting on a stupid message board. It seems so likely that there is a wider problem in that community - including but far beyond PSU - than a single child rapist, and I really worry that we haven't heard much about efforts to root out the entirety of it.
It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip to the air, which set an edge to a man's energy. All over the countryside, away from the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.

"Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.

But Holmes shook his head gravely.

"Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed with their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."

"Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?"

"They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."

"You horrify me!"

"But the reason is obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, "The Copper Beeches"
 
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Lord Jeff, Nabokov could add to your theory:

"You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy, with a bubble of hot poison in your loins and a super-voluptuous flame permanently aglow in your subtle spine (oh, how you have to cringe and hide!), in order to discern at once, by ineffable signs—the slightly feline outline of a cheekbone, the slenderness of a downy limb, and other indices which despair and shame and tears of tenderness forbid me to tabulate—the deadly little demon among the wholesome children..."

From Lolita
 
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