John Henry's Boston Globe Says Tom Brady's Netflix Cameo Show 'a Deep Lack of Respect for Women' and 'Trivializes Prostitution'

The first rule of Twitter Fight Club: It’s never a good thing for the Tweeter when their post has less than 70 likes. fewer than a dozen RTs and more than 340 comments. Simple math tells you those comments are going to read like the Rotten Tomatoes Audience Score for CW’s “Batwoman.” This one is no exception.

If you’re not familiar with the author of this thing, she’s someone who burned as many calories as anybody Boston trying to get Minihane fired from WEEI. According to the Minihane Show Twitter page, he’s addressing her in the episode posting soon, so I’ll let him speak for himself. I actually have no history with her.

I do have history with her employer though. If you’re not familiar with The Boston Globe, allow me to fill you in. John Henry owns the paper. He owns the Red Sox. The Red Sox have won four championships in 15 years after going 86 years without one. But still, they get less attention than the Patriots. Way less. John Henry’s Boston Globe writes hypercritical pieces on the Patriots on a regular basis.

Cause and effect or mere coincidence? You be the judge:

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Make of that what you will. But I see a pattern here.

Which brings me full circle back to the Globe Op-Ed linked in that badly reviewed Tweet. Referencing Tom Brady’s cameo in the Paul Rudd Netflix show, the upshot seems to be that when he’s not stealing money from special needs kids, supporting the Orange Bad Man or quarterbacking a failing franchise that everyone’s lost interest in, owned by a 78-year old whose dong the Globe would like to see, Brady supports the subjugation of women:

Brady’s cameo is yet another example of how the NFL in general, and the Patriots in particular, just don’t get it. They don’t get how their actions reveal a deep lack of respect for women. …

Kraft — the billionaire who can afford the best lawyers money can buy — has denied the allegations and is this close to having the misdemeanor prostitution charges in Florida dropped. Nothing to see here, just a cultural sideshow to Brady and Kraft’s six Super Bowl championships together.

Yet it’s not. Kraft is guilty in the court of public opinion. He already apologized publicly for his bad behavior when it looked like there was admissable video of his illicit massages. …

Some of you may be thinking: So what? This is Hollywood, and this is football. This has nothing to do with how anyone treats or perceives women.

But it does. After Kraft was charged with prostitution, three young female leaders at My Life My Choice, a nonprofit that works to end the sexual exploitation of children, wrote a Globe op-ed titled “Dear johns — an open letter to sex buyers.” …

“You may be able to convince yourself that this is a choice or what a woman wants — but whether you are in ‘the Life’ because someone is forcing you, someone is pretending to love you, or you have nowhere else to turn, it is all trauma, and it is degrading. Even more than that it is dehumanizing.”

When you are as big a star as Brady, your words and your actions matter. And Tom Brady, in this brief appearance, helps trivialize prostitution.

OK, so have we got this? Brady says yes to doing a cameo in a Paul Rudd comedy. Who wouldn’t? The premise is that Paul Rudd clones himself. The joke is that the place that does the cloning has a genetically perfect client like Tom Brady. They shoot it in front a green screen. In post-production, they make the place look vaguely like Orchids of Asia Day Spa did. Add that all up and you can only reach one logical, unassailable conclusion:

Tom Brady supports the sexual exploitation of women. That’s Boston Globe editorial page logic.

Yup, that’s him alright. Nailed it! You’ve got him dead to rights. In fact, he thinks it’s fucking hilarious when women are held against their will and forced into sex servitude.  It’s his favorite brand of comedy. Expect his production company to sign their own deal with Netflix to do a 10 part comedy series, “Tom vs. Tied Up Sex Slaves,” where every week he shows up to a different Eastern European brothel and cracks insult comedy at the drugged women chained to the wall, Comedy Central Roast-style, to howls of laughter of all the johns. He’s the Jeff Ross of exploited women.

And Mr. Kraft? He’s not entitled to his day in court. Standards of proof and rights of the accused don’t apply to him. Just convict him already, just like he is in the court of public opinion. And the Globe’s billionaire owner can hire his own “best lawyers money can buy” to see an illegally obtained surveillance video if he wants.

Here’s a thought for everyone at the Globe who rubber stamps these insufferable, unctuous attempts at virtue signalling mixed with pure agenda driven axe-grinding against a competitor in the local sports market who’s sucking all the attention from your boss’ ball club: If you want to help actual victims of who are actually being exploited, go ahead. The public will follow your lead. I promise you that. You run point on true victims of violence, and we’ll have your back. Those are some of the most noble causes you can take up. Nobody would argue otherwise.

But you can’t do that when you’re trying to say that real victims are the same as a 58-year-old Florida business owner who chooses of her own free will as the American citizen she is to make a good living for herself giving men (and presumably women) orgasms with her hand. Or claiming that a 42-year-old man with a wife, a daughter, a mother and sisters who has never gotten into an iota of trouble in his life somehow “disrespects women” or “trivializes prostitution” because he did a gag about human cloning in a TV show.

As a matter of fact, if you want to actually go after a local organization that has not only “trivialized” the mistreatment of women but actually allowed it to go on, and tried to keep the victims quiet with “the best lawyers money can buy,” I can think of just the place:

Boston Globe harassment

If I was anyone involved with the Patriots, I’d refuse any invitations to go to Fenway forever.