thelesterlee
I don’t think I can recall a ton of instances in which I moved overconfidently. My life has been an avalanche of L’s that has thrust humility upon me as I write jokes all day to a few thousand people who probably wouldn’t care if Deadseriousness stopped existing.
I go entire days without even looking in the mirror. I don’t need to be reminded of how mid I am. As a dorky blogger, I am an expert in lacking self-confidence.
But Ravens kicker Justin Tucker—and I want to highlight this over and over again, he’s a KICKER—was reportedly out here moving around the streets of Baltimore like he was the king of the city, expecting women to jerk him off left and right for simply being the kicker.
As I read this story from the Baltimore Banner detailing Justin Tucker harassing massage therapists—begging for professionals to behave like sex workers from 2012-2016—I can’t help but focus on the absurd arrogance of this bitch ass kicker shoving his little weewee in these women’s faces— knowing they weren’t those types of strip mall massage parlors that plumbers and electricians hit up on their way home to ignore their wife and kids.
Or Bob Kraft.
Justin Tucker truly believed he could show up wearing his Ravens gear, literally, and expected women to risk their careers—risk the way they pay their monthly bills—to make the fucking kicker skeet.
Let’s just look at this one woman’s experience working with Justin Tucker:
Two therapists reported that Tucker also acted inappropriately with them at Apothecary Wellness in 2012 and 2013, during his first two seasons with the Ravens.
One of the therapists, J., recalled that Tucker arrived at his appointment in Ravens gear from head to toe. “He made it a point to tell me, ‘I’m a kicker. I play for the Ravens,’” she recalled.
Tucker asked J. to focus on his gluteal muscles and inner thighs but kept moving to expose himself, she said. “I tucked him in like a baby, but he kept repositioning himself so I would brush against” his exposed penis, she said, prompting her to stop massaging his thighs and move to a different area of his body.
“That is not normal massage behavior,” she said. ”I did hundreds of massages and I never ever had someone else do that.”
After the massage, J. said, she found a “huge wet spot” that she believed to be ejaculate in the middle of the massage table where his pelvis had been.
J. said she told the receptionist and senior staff members that she never wanted to massage Tucker again. She said that outside of what she believes occurred with Tucker, she has never had another client leave what appeared to be ejaculate on the massage table.
“I left the massage feeling dirty,” she said, noting that she was so upset by the experience that she stopped doing massages for several months. “He knows we have no power and can’t do anything.”
This is essentially a medical facility and Tucker jizzed on himself.
Then he put his Ravens jersey back on while this woman nearly quit her job, staring at the obvious cum stain Tucker left behind.
And I want to take a step back and be super clear about my problem here.
To me, this feels astronomically different than what Deshaun Watson did. At least I can understand Watson having an inflated ego large enough to make him feel like every woman he’s in a room with wants to sleep with him.
In 2020, Deshaun Watson threw for 4,830 yards and 33 touchdowns.
Frankly, we don’t praise these successful quarterbacks enough for not being sociopaths like Watson. He was rich and one of the best quarterbacks on the planet. Of course he moved like he was entitled to women.
He wasn’t. And he’s a weirdo who we should all be praying never fully recovers from his Achilles injury.
But the thought process is at least understandable.
Why did the serial killer become a serial killer? Oh, he was abused as a kid and blah blah. Doesn’t make the serial killer right but you can wrap your head around his villain origin story.
Justin Tucker was a PLACE KICKER in his first few years in the NFL—completely clout-less and most likely one missed extra point from being a used car salesman—and was strutting into professional spas, shooting finger guns at the receptionist and then dropping his pants, pointing to his crotch like “you may proceed pleasuring the star of the Ravens now.”
Justin Tucker’s career is probably over.
He’ll be 36 years old next year coming off hitting only 73.3% of his field goals this season, the worst percentage of his career.
Unless the Cleveland Browns decide to trade for him and make him the highest-paid player in the sport—a thing this organization has proven they have no qualms with—this story is the last we’ll hear about this kicker.
Let this be a warning to all of us. None of us are shit.
Licensed massage therapists are not putting their careers in jeopardy because you confidently walk in and won’t stop rubbing your little penis against their arms.
None of us are as important as we think we are and that is especially true for the fucking KICKER.
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