So a billionaire walks into a massage parlor. By all accounts a skanky massage parlor in a ghetto Florida suburb. If he really wanted a massage, he probably has a dozen or so massaging professionals working for him. He owns the New England Patriots, therapists of this ilk routinely travel with the team and so if he tends to have a tightness in his gluts, well, he has people for that.

If on the other hand, he was looking for sex – a repulsive concept given the fact that this billionaire is seventy-seven years old – is his first thought really to pull into a road-side strip center and then head for the door with the flashing massage sign between the 7-Eleven and the ceramic tile store?

So now Robert Kraft is your creepy old uncle, the dirty bum Jethro Tull sings about in “Aqualung”.

On the face of it, if a man and a woman choose to make a transaction to exchange bodily fluids, that’s their business … but it only requires a small speck of introspection to realize that virtually no one would enter the sex trade willingly and therefore every billionaire on the prowl for a “massage” is exploiting the down-and-out reality of another human.

So, what to do? Should the old perv lose his NFL franchise? Yes, yes, I think he should. Morality aside, if you’re this big of a dumbass then you clearly lack the intellect required to operate a business.

He should be forced to sell the Patriots simply on the grounds that he doesn’t know how to be a billionaire!

Here’s how being a billionaire works. If there’s a really hot masseuse rubbing on strangers in a Florida strip mall, then put her on a plane to Boston and drive her in an unmarked limo to your house. Get her to do to you whatever seventy-seven-year-olds dig and then have her sign a binding non-disclosure agreement and send her on her way.

Better still, just like you have a bunch of massagers working for you, you also have a bunch of sluts (allegedly) working for you … they’re called cheerleaders! For a little extra in their pay envelope, I’m sure at least a few of them would be willing to touch an old fucker.

A dude has a lot of options when he’s a billionaire. He doesn’t have to do the desperate, dumb and morally-corrupt things a broke guy will do because money is the societal lubricant that makes almost everything run better. That the billionaire Patriots owner acted like a penniless panhandler with an out-of-control sex urge when his success provided him with so many smarter alternatives is a stroke of stupidity he will never live down.

You expect your grandpa to use good judgment all the time.

Somewhere it was reported that a thirty-minute massage at this Florida outpost could be had for $59. I guess every man has his price. For Robert Kraft, the price of his reputation, his good name, his career, his life’s work, the good standing of his family, his image in the eyes of his children and grandchildren was cheap as hell … fifty-nine fuckin’ dollars.

Photo credit: Sam_Carpenter1974 on Visual Hunt / CC BY-NC-ND