What’s to be done with itty-bitty Boston bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev?
At the top of nobody’s list is the United States government sanctioning a bare-fisted cage fight with yours truly. I don’t make declarations of confidence (or even masculinity) that often, and I reek of cowardice where manlier men exude a certain machismo quality.
Machismo or no machismo, I’m pretty sure I could take Dzhokhar in a fist fight. Have you seen him? He looks just barely tall enough to ride the big roller coasters at the amusement park.
This Dzhokhar whelp appears to be the age of, what, 14, maybe 15? He looks like he could still legitimately get into the ball pit at any McDonald’s PlayPlace before the crew kicked him out.
Plus, nobody is ever going to confuse him with being the smartest guy on God’s green Earth, are they? It’s the biggest manhunt since some arbitrary time I can’t recall and where does this genius hide? Surely this evil mastermind has concocted some sort of grand getaway plan, right? Obviously this moron must have some efficient mode of transportation to elude the authorities.
Nope.
He hides in a boat. A boat! Boats make very effective methods of escape; I’ll give you that. Just one catch — they have to be sitting in the water.
This boat was jacked up on a boat trailer with an emergency brake. Talk about getting nowhere fast.
So yeah, I’m taller, older, smarter and, presumably, stronger than Dzhokhar. Translation: I could take him in a boxing ring.
I like to imagine in the first couple of rounds I would serenade him with a few jabs and pepper him with several bolo punches, prepping him like a Thanksgiving turkey. In the mid-rounds I would gallantly strut around the ring showing off, holding him at bay with a few haymakers. If things got too out of hand I’d bum rush him with an illegal head butt and manage to get off a few punches below the belt.
“And the winner of this bout by a majority decision,” the annoying, cigar-sucking boxing announcer man would holler, “is the gangly man in the red, white and blue trucks. Ladies and gentlemen, your victor is Will E ‘Sandman’ Sanders.”
I would triumphantly grandstand in the middle of the canvas amid the streamers, confetti and loving admiration of an entire nation.
Yo, Adrian! I did it!
There is just one problem with those set of circumstances. I don’t think it’s nearly as cruel and (more importantly) unusual as Dzhokhar deserves. Now I realize that technically as a nation we don’t believe in cruel and unusual punishment. But don’t forget we’re all Americans, and what do Americans like doing more than anything? Killing stuff, preferably as cruelly and unusual as possible.
I mean, Washington has already tried degrading other Amendments in the Bill of Rights lately so what would be the problem with another transgression?
If I was a bigwig I know what sort of cruel and unusual punishment I would employ for this situation. I am a big believer in the punishment fitting the crime.
So here’s what I think we should do.
Take an average back pack, place a few cinder blocks inside and strap it to the back of Dzhokhar. Then take this little nitwit to the starting line of the Boston Marathon and force him to run until he reaches the finish line, which would be 26 miles and 385 yards away.
Here’s the kicker, though. Each side of the street would be lined with people. The spectators would be armed with crude implements they could throw at Dzhokhar. Things like used batteries, baseballs, hammers, old cell phones or other things that aren’t immediately fatal, but would be over time.
It’s a win-win situation if you ask me, but I’d still like to face Dzhokhar mano-a-mano.
Like I said, I’m pretty sure I could take him in a fight.