You should read Bloomberg Businessweek’s story on John Schnatter, the disgraced Papa John’s Pizza founder who stepped down as CEO after blaming declining sales on NFL players kneeling during the National Anthem… then was fired as chairman after using a racial slur during a sensitivity-training conference call. What an incredible life he’s had. A dreadful, filthy existence. Like his pizza, for example.
According to senior writer Devin Leonard’s comprehensive piece, Schnatter is now “trying to clear his name.” “He claims his departure was arranged by previous corporate officials, the NFL, and probably even the Democratic National Committee.” There have been lawsuits, full-page newspaper ads, and the following sentences: “I’m Papa John!” This isn’t going away,” he says during a tour of his Kentucky home, but my favorite part is when he says:
[Schnatter] ushers me back inside the house through a door. We go to his gym, which is a huge room filled with artifacts from his days as a pizza magnate, and to an old-fashioned movie theater where he watches football. Then we ascend the circular staircase to the lobby, which features a 16-foot-tall sculpture depicting two eagles mating as they plummet from the sky. He looks up at it and adds, “It just talks to me.” “I believe it is kickass.”
You read that correctly: Papa John’s residence features a sculpture of two eagles having sex. I, too, am a big fan of art. Since Dilbert idiot Scott Adams showed everyone his toilet, this is the most I’ve been tormented by a home tour. We may never be able to recover.
