And there it is for those who missed it: Aaron Hernandez found guilty of first-degree murder. — Adam Schefter (@AdamSchefter) April 15, 2015
There you have it. Ex football player and now official murderer Aaron Hernandez is going to jail forever. It’s kind of crazy to think someone who literally had it all could end up being a murderer/possible serial killer, but I guess anything is possible in the NFL. A few years ago he was signing a $40 million contract and now he’s going to jail for first degree murder. The NFL is messed up and the only real difference between Hernandez and NFL poster boy Ray Lewis is shit luck and better friends I suppose. And if you’re wondering why I dropped the ‘possible serial killer line in the previous sentence…
And Aaron Hernandez still faces trial for alleged murders of Daniel de Abreu and Safiro Furtado in July 2012. — Adam Schefter (@AdamSchefter) April 15, 2015
A statement from the Patriots on releasing Aaron Hernandez: “At this time, we believe this transaction is simply the right thing to do.”
Here is the full statement released by the Patriots:
“A young man was murdered last week and we extend our sympathies to the family and friends who mourn his loss. Words cannot express the disappointment we feel knowing that one of our players was arrested as a result of this investigation. We realize that law enforcement investigations into this matter are ongoing. We support their efforts and respect the process. At this time, we believe this transaction is simply the right thing to do.“
This weeks monster blog is a subject that hit me like a ton of bricks. I started thinking about how much I hate certain things, and what I would do to avoid them. So here at average nobodies we decided to tell you about our own personal hells.
Rules: there are no rules, what is the most excruciating situation you can put yourself in for all of eternity. No way out, just living through it every day. Be as detailed and graphic as you want. It could be situational or involve torture. I don’t know all I can do is explain my own.
At my (previous) job the other day I realized how much I hate my former boss’ ringtone. It’s just a standard droid ringtone but it goes right through me, especially because he never answers it. It is also the sign of “get off your ass and look busy”. I am also deathly afraid of spiders. I hate them. All kinds. They turn me into a child more than the hunter from jumanji would. My own personal hell would be trapped in a doorless, windowless room full of big hairy nasty spiders, with that god forsaken ringtone blasting for all of eternity. I would rather be trapped in a room with a lion than spiders. At least he’s got some sense and maybe we can form a pact, but spiders?! Fuck that. Also to make it an ounce worse, I’d throw a tv in there with nothing but the breakfast club playing. I’d rather not have eyes than see that movie. I hate that movie and everyone that likes it, can’t stand it. And that ladies and gents is my own personal hell
Drop me in the middle of the rainforest. Now i’m not talking about the rainforest you see on TV, no, i’m talking about the dense, hot, rainy, covered in animals ready to kill you rainforest. Now give me an ipod and load that shit with Enya. I realize that i’d rather listen to the shitty music then hear monkeys plot my murder in the canopy above me so I go to put the headphones on. Now drop in Carlos Mencia, right behind me, and every time I go to put the headphones on he starts talking to me. I take the head phones off and he stops, I got to put them on and he starts yapping again. I get a call on a random cell phone. Mark Wahlbergs on the other end. He proceeds the tell me that everyone on my Fantasy Football team is on IR, that he got cleared to make a Shooter 2 & 3, Norah Jones made a hate song about me, everyone on Earth got to travel to the moon except me, and that Mr Lemon closed down. A hell I wouldn’t wish upon the worst of my enemies.
– Matty V
Ryan’s Hell (Social Media Whores feat. Claustrophobia)
I hate people who use social media to throw their lifestyles in your face and act as if you’re not living like them then you suck. I’m glad you go to the gym, and eat healthy, and go to the beach. But guess what? So does everybody else, so you’re not as special as you think you are. Also, YOLO and “eating at Sonic” don’t belong in the same sentence. YOLO and skydiving maybe, or YOLO and wire walking across the Grand Canyon. Just because you took a week long trip to Disney World doesn’t automatically make you the poster child for excitement. I’m fully aware that I can un-friend or un-follow these people, but it’s been personal hell fantasy, and I’m gonna make it as hellish as possible. I’m deathly afraid of being in an enclosed space that’s slowly filling up with water and I’m powerless to stop it. Its a recurring nightmare of mine. With that said, my personal hell would consist of being in a room that is slowly filling up with water while constantly being fed status updates of people I hate. Somehow the Devil created a waterproof computer and he’s draining the life out of me. The only solace is one day I might meet those same people who put me through social media hell and make them listen to Fast Car for all of eternity.
Sean’s Hell (Ft. David Tyree)
My own personal hell? Hmm, that’s kind of a tough one. I don’t hate a lot of things worth mentioning, and I’m in a really good place right now, but I guess I’ll just let it all hang out. So as far as a personal hell/nightmare situation for me is concerned it would take place in deep space, I’d rather go to the depths of the deepest ocean than deep space. In a lot of people’s hell they’d be alone, not me, I’d be with David Tyree. I’d rather be alone for a thousand eternities than listen to that guy talk about himself for half a second, he’s definitely chats it up about himself non-stop, that’s how I picture him. And it would be scorching hot, not hot enough to kill you, just fucking hot all the time along with zero ways to cool down. The only sustenance would be jalapeno peppers and alcohol-free keystone light (alcohol would be too much of a luxury in this situation). A movie would constantly be playing, The Road with Viggo Mortenson; I promise that you will never witness a more depressing hour and fifty-one minutes in your life. To recap, it’s me and David Tyree floating in deep space, it’s 100 degrees out (and humid I’ve decided), only food is jalapeno peppers and drink is non-alcoholic keystone, while watching The Road on repeat for all an eternity. And I suppose to top it all if you tried to pause or stop the movie a recording would turn on of Elton John’s Benny and the Jets. Normally a perfectly good son but in this case the only part that plays is “B-b-b-b-b-BENNY, BENNY,BENNY,BENNY,BENNY,… well you get the picture.
Shoot me now.