When I first heard about Larry Johnson's Twitter escapade, I thought, "It's not such a big deal." (For those who somehow missed the story, the Chiefs running back blasted head coach Todd Haley, and when he started receiving derogatory comments from followers of his account, he gay-bashed them. He is suspended from the team as I write this.)

My thinking was, it was his personal account, his opinion, his right to make an utter fool of himself. Would he be suspended? Sure, I thought, but again, I didn't think it was that big a deal. As of this writing, I've rushed for as many touchdowns as he has this season, and I think his career -- as a 30-year-old running back -- is over anyway. If you look at the history of NFL running backs, anytime someone has carried more than 400 times in season, they've never recovered. (Emmitt Smith and Barry Sanders never had that many carries, and this contributed to their longevity in the league.)

The Chiefs dealt Jarrod Allen because of his off-field antics. (Chiefs fans largely disagreed with the move, caring mostly for his on-field antics.) To me, they should have dealt Johnson ... oh, I don't know, maybe after his fifth arrest for battering and abusing women (he plead guilty to his last charge and is now serving probation).

But then I changed my take on the situation. I gave it further thought. For one, the gay bashing is just uncalled for. What is he, 8 years old?

My boss out of college was a supremely tough and intelligent lady, so naturally she was often the target of derisive comments from the smaller minds of the company. (She was also pretty hot too, truth be told.) I wonder what would have happened to me if I "tweeted" my dislike of her management style? My cubicle would have been stuffed into a file-o-fax box within a nano-second.

That's not to say I wasn't sent down to the principal's office during my legendary corporate career. One day a different manager chewed me out on the floor (and by floor, I mean the cube farm that stretched to eternity and was affectionately dubbed "the stockyard") because I didn't print a spreadsheet off "landscape." At this point, a hundred heads popped over the top of their cubes -- it looked like a life-sized game of whack-a-mole.

Always one to hold back my opinions, I stood up and did my best Jack Nicholson impersonation, intoning, "Oh, but Nurse Ratched ... we just wanna watch the baseball game!" I wasn't suspended, but she didn't hesitate to deal me when I asked for a trade to another division.

Assuming anyone wants him, the Chiefs should do the same with LJ. Let him Twitter away.

Mark Vasto is a veteran sportswriter and publisher of The Kansas City Luminary.

(c) 2009 King Features Synd., Inc.