Jussie Smollett’s story is what the prudish New York Times used to call “a barnyard epithet.” You know and I know it. The Chicago Police Department knows it, and said so. The Chicago mayor knows it, and said so.
From the great Subway Sandwich Assault of Jan. 29 through to the Valentine’s Day fable Smollett told Robin Roberts on “Good Morning America,” everything Smollett said was preposterous, and he couldn’t even stick to one fake account, he had to keep rewriting it. Initially he didn’t tell police his attacker dudes yelled, “This is MAGA country.” Then by the time he told the story to Roberts it was completely different; no longer did two guys come at him at once, but one snuck up behind him while he had his hands full with the first one. Oh, and this time he fought back valiantly, which he hadn’t told the police.
In all versions of the story, the vicious thugs daintily draped a noose they just happened to have with them around his neck but just left it dangling there like a necktie.
Never did Smollett explain how two guys who knew him from “Empire” somehow knew where he would be at 2 a.m. even though he himself had decided just moments earlier to go to the Subway shop outside of which they lurked, scheming with their bleach and rope.