I don’t know you Jian Ghomeshi but I now regret the enjoyment I had listening to your show. You and your ilk fill me with more than regret: I become burdened with a profound feeling that there is something terribly wrong with people. I don’t like that. I hate that. I want to like people: I want life to be enjoyed by all. But then people like you come along, people who support you come along, people worse than you come along: all those people come along and create and prolong pain for others.
Screw libel, screw defamation: I don’t know you, and I probably don’t know anyone who knows you; that means I don’t know anyone who’s been raped or abused by you, and yet, I’m going to call you a rapist, a predator and an abuser of women. And I certainly look forward to you finding my little corner of the internet and suing me.
But: blood from a stone buddy. I probably wouldn’t even bother showing up to court for that. Unfortunately, I doubt I have enough clout to ever be discovered by you. That’s a shame really, because if you’re not going to listen to all the other voices defaming you, you should at least read what I have to write. I wish I had the hits to climb out of the darkness into your computer, but I just have a humorous blog, that no one reads and I write novels that no one reads. Add to that, a newscaster sucks up six pages of Google when searching my name and I know I’ll never get through to you. I think it’s a shame, because I think you could benefit from what I have to say.
What I have to say is this: