See “Protestors Rally for Trayvon Martin” photo gallery below.
Oh, a bloody-nosed George Zimmerman! The poor baby!
Is that the reaction Mark O’Mara, Zimmerman’s lawyer, hoped we’d have when the color photo of his client with a bloody nose was released?
Sorry, O’Mara, but my reaction was: “Oh, a bloody-nosed George Zimmerman! What a PAB he is!”
Yes, Mark, me boy, the “P” stands for “punk.” And the “A” and the “B” stand for precisely the words you think they stand for.
That’s what the George Zimmerman-Trayvon Martin case boils down to: a 17-year-old who defended himself against someone he thought was a potentially violent stalker, and a PAB that couldn’t have licked a postage stamp, much less Martin.
According to news reports, O’Mara hoped that the release of Zimmerman with his bloody nose “could bolster his case that Zimmerman was being beaten when he shot Trayvon Martin.”
O’Mara’s “case” doesn’t need bolstering. (And, I might add, not one of Zimmerman’s injuries sustained during the fight with Martin has even been remotely described as life-threatening.)
I don’t know if Trayvon Martin’s parents, their lawyer or any of their supporters will concede this, but I will: Trayvon Martin WAS whipping Zimmerman’s ass on the night of Feb. 26, when the youth was fatally shot.
But I’ll just as quickly add this: Trayvon Martin SHOULD have been whipping that ass.
He was walking in a gated community where his father’s girlfriend lived. He was returning from a nearby 7-Eleven, where he’d just purchased some Skittles and an Arizona iced tea.
Martin was engaged in the most basic, fundamental, constitutionally protected conduct there is: he was MINDING HIS OWN BUSINESS. But in Sanford, Fla., and in the mind of Zimmerman, young black men engaged in the basic, fundamental, constitutionally protected activity of minding their own business are, in fact, either committing a crime or are about to commit a crime.
So Zimmerman, the super cop wannabe, calls the police and tells them Martin is acting “suspiciously.” He then follows Martin, ignoring police instructions that they don’t need him to do that.
In Zimmerman’s mind, he’s doing exactly what Dirty Harry would have done: tracking down a criminal, the better to confront him and issue a “make my day” challenge.
What O’Mara, Zimmerman and Zimmerman’s horde of supporters – I call them the “We just loves to kill ourselves a Negro on a Sunday” crowd – have ignored is that the crux of this entire case revolves around not what was going through Zimmerman’s mind, but what was going through Martin’s.