I watched the little boys kick the soccer ball and took in the sails on the blue water and felt the warm November air. �
And then I thought again: Bill O’Reilly invited Al Queda to come and blow us into bits. �
There was some commotion on the field. �The goalie was hurt, so I switched in my own son, seven years old, big blue eyes and soft brown hair, a bright smile and a sweet disposition. �He looked good, manning the crease, waiting for the next rush from the other side.
And then I thought: Bill O’Reilly says to hateful zealots: come kill my boy.
Bill, he’s a good kid. �He’s really sweet. �He plays hard on the soccer field; loves the struggle. �But he always says “good game” to the other team after it’s over and he never plays dirty.
Like I said: he’s a good boy.
So my question is this: why do you want Al Qaeda to kill him, Bill? �I’m trying to understand, but I just can’t.
What Bill did was personal. When he talks out his ass about blowing up an American city, God, that’s not something to relax about, that’s not a joke anybody should take.
Bill threatened Calprof’s family. Calprof is right to respond on a personal level.
And frankly, I don’t care if you’re blue or red or so red you’re practically glowing in the dark. If you have family in San Francisco, Bill threatened your family. And where I come from? How I was raised? Family doesn’t stand idly by while somebody threatens or picks on family.