Back On Earth: 2007

Monday, December 31, 2007

8 for '08

HEADING OFF FOR MORE VACATION TIME, BUT HERE’S ONE LAST POST. WILL BE BACK NEXT WEEK:

Here are eight things I’d like to see in 2008:

8) A whole lot less about the worthless lives of Britney, Lindsay, Paris, etc.

7) A report from the National Hurricane Center expressing amazement at the third successive slow season.

6) A confirmed sighting of an ivory-billed woodpecker in the Big Thicket.

5) Barry Bonds standing in a tense courtroom as the jury foreman says, “We find the defendant guilty on all counts.”

4) A deal between the city of Beaumont and its firefighters that both can live with.

3) A World Series that does not involve a team from New York City.

2) A Hillary-Rudy face-off. These are the two best candidates in both parties; let ’em tangle.

1) A report from Baghdad that begins, “The first withdrawal of U.S. troops has begun and is expected to be completed by … ”

Friday, December 28, 2007

Farewell, Fidel

I hope this is the last year we have to put up with Fidel Castro.

He’s 81, he’s a dictator, and he needs to kick the bucket.

He’s also senile, I think, as indicated by his latest comments in which he said he did not want to be known as “a person clinging to power.”

Uh, Fidel, you’ve been “clinging to power” since 1959. For 17 months, you’ve been so sick that you can’t “cling to power” openly, so you do it from a hospital bed.

He keeps vowing not to stand in the way of younger leaders ... but he keeps “clinging to power.”

His idea of a “youth movement” is handing off power to his brother Raul — a sprite of 79!

And he’s still on the ballot for Cuba’s phony elections Jan. 20.

You know how that game works in communist countries, don’t you? A hand-picked slate of “candidates” is presented to voters, who can play along and rubber-stamp the ballot … or wake up in a re-education camp.

That’s “democracy” under communism.

Whatever. The open secret in Cuba is that Castro really only wants to outlast the second term of President Bush, which expires at noon on Jan. 20, 2009.

I hope Castro expires first.

Then, and only then, will he no longer be “clinging to power.”

Thursday, December 20, 2007

R.I.P., W.T.

They buried W.T. Block this week. He was 87, and I knew it was coming. So many of the heroes from the Greatest Generation are leaving us each day. My father Carl, a flight engineer on a B-29, departed several years ago.

As editorial page editor here and at the Port Arthur News before that, I developed a special relationship with W.T. Block. Well, it was special to me, but he probably knew dozens of people like me.

He wrote a guest column for us for many years, and he was one of the most interesting and best-read local writers we ever had.

His columns covered the gamut, from pirates to logging, but I particularly loved his columns on World War II.

I am fascinated by that great war and the greater men who won it — men like W.T. Block. Whenever he sent in something on the war, it got into print ASAP. On our occasional phone conversations, if the talk drifted to the war, it wouldn’t be brief.

Of course like most of the men from that conflict, he was modest about his own achievements even though he faced death many times.

In one column, he mentioned the cold nights he spent on the front in a dugout … and waking up to see footprints in the snow of German patrols from the night before.

In another column, he noted that he was standing alongside a colonel at the famed Remagen Bridge when a piece of shrapnel or a bullet entered the officer’s side and killed him on the spot.

So many memories from that great writer flood through my brain. Of all the columns he wrote, however, one stands out. We ran it years ago, and it is reproduced below.

Read through it and think about what W.T. Block did for those two days in that bitter cold. Think of the horror he must have felt. But think of how he did his duty anyway that day — and dozens of other days when it seemed unbearable and undoable.

He titled this column, “I Remember ‘The Lucky Stiffs’ ”

NEDERLAND — Some time ago, a friend asked me, “Bill, have you and your wife seen the movie (name deleted) yet?” I replied that “No, we hadn’t,” and he asked why. I responded, “Because each of us had already seen enough brutality for this life!”

Suddenly I recalled the days I spent with the “lucky stiffs,” days during which every evil thought nibbled at my conscious, and days I could never forget. The day before, the 309th Infantry had jumped across the Roer River, making a lightning advance into the weakly defended Rhineland, but several of our 78th Division soldiers had died during the onslaught. And the several inches of snow beneath our feet had hardened to ice consistency, with the temperature hovering in the minus zero range.

Early that day Sgt. Novy and I, our mess kits still dangling in the brisk breeze, had just returned from breakfast at the HQ mess truck. Suddenly I heard a loud voice bellow, “Hey, soldier, come here!” I turned and inquired, “Me?” “Yes, you!” was his response. “Go help Davis do his job for a day or two. His helper has gone on sick call!”

I was reluctant as I pondered the price of refusal, since the man with the loud voice wore no visible rank or insignia on his uniform. Sgt. Novy added, “Go ahead, Block, it’s just a temporary assignment, and refusing a direct order at the front can mean a general court martial for insubordination.”

I opened a door of Davis’ truck and as I did so, I read the sign on it, “Graves Registration Command.” We drove a short distance to a soldier, whose body was half covered with snow, and whose shoulder insignia was the same as mine, a red half moon and lightning patch. Davis stopped his truck and said:

“Grab his shoulders and swing with me, and let him fall in the truck,” he shouted above the icy breeze. The frozen body hit the bed of the truck so hard that ice fragments broke off and scattered everywhere. Something rushed up inside my throat, but I said nothing that time.

We drove a couple blocks and repeated the procedure, but I could not keep quiet that time; I cried out:

“Good Heavens! Must we toss these bodies in like so much cordwood? There must be a better way. Every one of them represents a trail of broken hearts back home, and but for the Grace of God, they could be us!”

“Don’t be foolish, Block!” he retorted. “You’ll git used to it! They’re ‘the lucky stiffs.’ They don’t feel no pain no more. Their fingertips and toes don’t ache no more like ours do. And besides, we still got ours to git!”

“Git what?” I asked him curtly. “I mean git a bullet in the head from some sniper!” he responded.

I winced at the words, but got back into the truck. Once I had to take a shovel and pick up the insides in a basket of a fallen soldier’s body, which had been mutilated by an 88 shell; and the scene was so sickening I quickly tossed up all my breakfast.

All that day and the next, we threw scores of bodies into the truck — an American here and a German there. I remember one big German body — must have weighed 350 pounds — that required four of us to pick up and put in the truck.

Of course, I could not escape the fact that a day earlier, he probably had killed some of the Americans we had loaded on the truck. Nevertheless, I also could not escape thinking that the death of the big German was heartbreak for some one in his country. Each day we kept loading bodies and hauling them back to the Henri Chapelle Cemetery in Belgium.

After that, I was glad to get back to the pillbox where we were billeted, but the memories of “the lucky stiffs” continue to haunt me to the present day. I remember too that I was able to return home and raise a family, but they couldn’t — so I know they were not the lucky ones.

I remember too how the Army had trained and honed me and other soldiers to butcher-shop perfection, and I do mean razor-sharp perfection, with never a thought of undoing that training as we became civilians again. Perhaps it was a credit to most of us that we were able to shed our chicken-hawk aggression toward others with no more damage to society than was wrought by us.

Friday, December 07, 2007

Hang in there, Andy

TAKING ANOTHER WEEK OF VACATION, BUT HERE’S ONE LAST POST. BE GOOD UNTIL I GET BACK:

You gotta feel sorry for Andruw Jones.

The former Atlanta Braves star has had a great career since 1996. He was a five-time All Star. Won 10 straight Gold Gloves. Was MVP runner-up in 2005, when he had 51 homers and 128 RBIs. Next year, he hit 41 home runs with a career-high 129 RBIs.

Everything was spiffy … until last year. He had his worst season ever.

The second half was a little better, but the first part was awful. We’re talking Mendoza Line awful

In the end, he hit only .222 and had just 26 homers — pitiful numbers for him. He did manage 94 RBIs, the only bright spot in the nightmare.

Worst of all, he was a free agent after this year. If he had had a typical Andruw Jones season, he could have reaped millions.

Instead, the best deal he could get was … $36 million from the Dodgers for two years.

That’s right, fans. After stinking up Atlanta, he becomes the fifth-highest paid player in baseball.

The economic laws of the game are simple and brutal.

Have a good year, and you rake in the millions. Have a bad year, and … well, you still rake in the millions.

... Oh, and you thought life was fair?

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Goodbye to pay phones

The latest casualty of the Information Age is pay phones.

If you feel sad or nostalgic about this loss … get over it. Cell phones are 100 times better.

And it is cell phones that are sending pay phones and phone booths to the history books along with manual typewriters, elevator operators, restroom attendants, etc.

On Tuesday AT&T announced it will disconnect its pay-phone operations in 2008.

A spokesman, speaking the obvious, said, “Usage has just dropped so much — precipitously.”

If you have an IQ larger than your waist size, you had to see this coming.

Cell phones are everywhere. Kids have ’em. Grandmas and grandpas have ’em. Even poor people have ’em.

(Though in America, poor people also have color TVs, air-conditioning, home computers, etc., but that’s another blog.)

I suppose some people have fond memories of phone booths and will moan about the clunky old contraptions.

I’m not one of them. Whenever I had to use a pay phone, I was worried about catching a disease from the filthy thing or having the correct change.

Gimme a cell phone anytime. Sure, we overuse those babies too. We wonder how we lived just a few years ago when we didn’t have one on our hip all the time. (Somehow, we survived.)

The only downside is that anyone who has passed puberty has another thing to explain to kids who ask in the future, “Uh … what, like, was a phone booth used for in, like, the old days?”

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Unbearable

They’re baaack, and you don’t want to run across one.

I refer of course to Ursus arctos horribilis, better known as the grizzly bear.

Seems that the griz are returning to parts of Montana, Wyoming, Idaho and Washington since coming under federal protection.

That’s good.

What’s not good is what happens when a member of Homo sapiens sapiens — that would be you or me or another human being — comes across a grizzly bear. What happens is that the person usually wakes up dead.

That would be because your average male grizzly bear is 6 or 7 feet tall and weighs up to 850 pounds. Throw in hellacious claws and teeth along with incredible muscle mass — not to mention a nasty disposition — and you are talking one big-time killing machine.

In the last eight months alone, the Associated Press has tallied a dozen grizzly-human confrontations.

Incredibly, the AP said that among those incidents, “seven people were injured, some severely.”

Wow. Only seven? I didn’t know it was possible to tangle with a grizzly and not end up looking like a sack of raw hamburger meat.

Anyhow, with more of this happening, some folks out West want to be able to hunt the bears again.

They figure if grizzlies get scared of people, they’d be less inclined to think of them as dinner.

I dunno.

I would say this: If the number of grizzly bears continues to increase in the Pacific Northwest, people are going to suddenly remember why they wanted to eradicate these critters from the lower 48.

Personally, I’ve got no beef with the bear.

In fact, if they want to have Montana, I wouldn’t fight ’em for it.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Joe's gone wild

HEADING OFF FOR A WEEK OF VACATION, BUT HERE’S A QUICK POST:

When it comes to criminals, I’m a lock-’em-up-and-throw-away-the-key kind of guy.

People who hurt or steal from other folks are pretty low on the food chain. If they do something seriously bad, they deserve to spend many, many days looking at the world through a set of iron bars.

But I will say this too: They should be treated OK while they are guests of the taxpayers.

That’s three meals a day, a shower every now and then and a little exercise to burn up some energy. No rough stuff from guards or other inmates.

Which brings us to Joe Francis, the guy who made millions upon millions by convincing college girls on spring break to flash for his cameras. Yes, we’re talking “Girls Gone Wild.”

It’s hard to believe any gal would be that stupid or slutty, but it happens.

Anyhow, Francis has managed to find himself on the wrong side of the law — tax evasion, contempt of court, having contraband in custody. And in more than one state, no less. What a schmuck.

While in a jail in Chickasha, Okla., recently, he said guards denied him food and blankets. And threatened to strap him naked to a chair for 48 hours.

It sounds crazy, and the guards deny it.

All I know is that if somehow, some way, this creep could be convicted for a stupid white-collar stunt like tax evasion, it would be sweet justice.

Why? Because what he did to get rich was not illegal. But it was incredibly sleazy.

There ought to be a penalty for it, but there isn’t. So I wouldn’t mind settling for some kind of secondary, after-the-fact conviction.

One more thing: When he goes to trial, I hope he gets a jury filled with men and women who have teen-aged daughters. Little Joey would then learn all about "Justice Gone Wild!"

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Do the crime, do (some of) the time

If you’re planning to go to Arizona and break the law, you should try to end up before Judge Helene Abrams. If you do, let’s just say you don’t have to worry about dying behind bars.

Abrams is the Superior Court judge who gave perennial screwup Mike Tyson all of one day in jail for possession of cocaine and driving under the influence.

Tyson could have gotten four years and three months. The prosecutor even recommended a year in the slammer, and that seems generous.

Instead Iron Mike gets 24 hours. Heck, you don’t even have to eat lousy jail food or endure those unpleasant showers with other inmates if you’re in for that much.

Worse, Judge Abrams pumped up Tyson with some undeserved praise: “You’ve worked to address your addiction and self-destructive behavior,” she gushed.

I’ll believe it when I see it. So far, Mikey seems to be pretty good at addiction and self-destructive behavior.

As prosecutor Shane Krauser pointed out, Tyson’s run-ins with the law include convictions for rape in Indiana and assault in Maryland.

“Judge, by my calculations, this is his fourth or fifth chance,” he said.

Sheesh.

And we wonder why we have a crime problem in this country.

I don’t have all the answers, but one problem might be ridiculous sentences like 82 minutes to Nicole Richie, 84 minutes to Lindsay Lohan and one day to Mike Tyson for serious offenses that could have hurt or killed someone.

Oh, well. Maybe Tyson will get the book thrown at him the next time. And trust me, there will be a next time.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Yanks in the tank

So what is it, Yankee haters?

Are we happy that A-Rod came slinking back to the Bronx because he found out he wasn’t worth as much as he thought? Or are we worried that he will be back in pinstripes because, even though he is obnoxious, he’s good?

Personally, I could go either way on that one. The good news is that nothing can ruin the fact that it’s a great year in sports for anyone who doesn’t live in New York. We don’t have to be irritated by all that bragging from the Big Apple about how wonderful their town and teams are.

First the Mets, with their big payroll and big egos, don’t even make the playoffs. Then the Yankees — same description, only more so —get into the post-season but promptly get bounced by the once-lowly Indians.

Then the Jets get off to a terrible year in football (1-8!) and the Giants slowly settle into mediocrity. (Here a hint, Giants fans: Eli is no Peyton and never will be).

Now the Yankees start to fall apart in the offseason. Ya gotta love it.

The A-Rod soap opera is a joke, but the Yankees deserve it.

His arrogant agent Scott Boras announces — during the World Series, no less — that Prince Alexander will not be returning to the fold next year. Then A-Rod finds out that few teams, if any, will give him the supersized paycheck he is dreaming of.

So he pulls a U-turn, and the spinning that followed was as ferocious as a Josh Beckett curve ball.

George Steinbrenner’s son Hank said, “But the bottom line, the only thing that really matters, is he wants to stay a Yankee. And it could be very well that he’s always wanted to stay a Yankee and we just didn’t know it.”

Right, Hankie. I guess we were thrown off by the part where A-Rod made it real clear that he didn’t “want to stay a Yankee.”

Then A-Rod himself releases a statement that’s so silly you almost bust out laughing when you read it:

“We know there are other opportunities for us, but Cynthia and I have a foundation with the club that has brought us comfort, stability and happiness.”

Gimme a gigantic break.

The moody ballplayer and the dysfunctional team deserve each other.

I hope A-Rod breaks the all-time home run record because Barry Bonds is so icky.

I just don’t want to see them celebrating at the end of a World Series — and hear the talk again about how much better they are than everyone else.

Fortunately, based on the way the team has been run in the past few years, we all should be spared that. Let’s hope our luck holds.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

It's alive? I can take care of that.

Boy, the Manners Police are getting fussier and fussier.

Take poor Jerick Hutchinson, a high school agriculture teacher in Huntsville, Ark.

The other day he was all set to give his class a demonstration on how to skin an animal — and haven’t we all sat through dozens of them? — when a little problem came up.

See, a student promised to bring a raccoon for the demonstration, which he did, which is important, because you can’t have a skinning demonstration without a critter to skin.

Anyhow, the animal was alive, not deceased. So Hutchinson, being the resourceful type, took ol’ Rocky out back and turned him into a dead raccoon.

With a nail gun.

Now some of these tree-hugger types are saying that was just a bit icky for high school kids.

Gimme a break. Even the head honcho defended Hutchinson.

"It wasn’t like he held a nail gun against the head of a cute little animal in front of the class," said Superintendent Alvin Lievsay. " … He does a great job. The kids love him."

Damn straight. I mean, if he’d capped the ’coon in front of Billy and Susie, well, maybe then you’ve got a gripe. But he was discreet, as any good skinner is.

Thanks to Hutchinson’s pluckiness, the rosy-cheeked youngsters were able to observe proper skinning techniques on the raccoon, and, as the AP story put it, “examine the contents of its stomach.”

I have to end this post now. I’m just getting a little teary-eyed thinking about this Norman Rockwell moment in a little red schoolhouse somewhere in the hills of Arkansas.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Uh, what did you say?

If there’s a chutzpah award for attorneys, James Davis ought to win it.

He’s the barrister defending Kelsey Peterson, the 25-year-old middle school teacher in Nebraska who fled with one of her 13-year-old male students to Mexico. Yes, unless you are terminally naïve, it was one of those relationships.

Their little jaunt — the mother of all school trips — was mercifully cut short by men with guns and badges. Now Peterson is facing lots of years behind bars for getting real familiar with a boy who hasn’t been on this earth for lots of years.

If I were James Davis, I’d fall on my knees before the judge and beg for mercy for my client, seeing as how she looks really guilty and all that.

Not Davis. He must have gone to the “best defense is a good offense” school of lawyering.

In his view, Peterson is the innocent one here, not the kid.

“It’s my understanding he was grooming her and she wasn’t grooming him,” Davis said. “I see true victims every day. This young man is no victim. … The kid is sophisticated. He shaves, he has a mustache.”

Wow! Wonder if Davis wants the lad charged with kidnapping.

The boy’s aunt, Laura Rodriguez, said the boy is indeed 13 and not older as Davis suggests.

As for the horny teacher being the “victim” in the relationship, Aunt Laura made a good point: “She started up with him when he was 12. She was 24. How could that happen?”

Heck, maybe I’m being too hard on Davis. He has gone so far as to say about Peterson, “She understands what she did, and that she didn’t exercise the best judgment in leaving.”

Rigghhtt. That’s like saying Britney Spears “didn’t exercise the best judgment” in shaving her head.

We’ll see what a judge or jury in the Cornhusker State has to say about all this.

But from where I sit, calling an adult who seduces a child the “victim” in the relationship is, well, how, shall I put this? … preposterous!

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Please, no more instant replay

Did you see that story in our paper on Wednesday (page 4C) about the possibility of adding instant replay to baseball? If you didn’t, just go to our Web site and do a search for, “How to ruin a great game.”

Good grief. Baseball does not need replay, instant or otherwise. No sport does.

The reason we watch sports is that it’s unscripted competition between athletes or teams. You don’t know what will happen. The game might be good or bad or somewhere in between. You watch because you like the sport and the suspense.

Bad calls by umpires are part of the game. This is not a “problem” that needs to be “fixed” by a bunch of suits in Orlando, Fla., trying to kill time until spring training starts.

If a bad call happens, you shrug it off and keep playing. If you do that, sooner or later a call will go your way.

In fact, most replays show that umps almost always make the right call, even though the play is happening at full speed and they might not have the best angle.

Even more annoying is the doubletalk coming from the people trying to push this nonsense:

“I don’t think there’s a significant impetus toward destroying what has been 150 years of the human aspects of baseball,” said Bob DuPuy, baseball’s chief operating officer.

Gosh, Bob, I owe you an apology. I guess I thought that using sophisticated TV cameras with slo-mo and freeze-frame capabilities to review an umpire’s call would undermine “the human aspect of baseball.”

Baseball is enjoying a resurgence: Steroid use has dropped. The Montreal Expos have been put out of their misery and the game has returned to the nation’s capital. (Though the franchise should have been renamed the Washington Senators.) Teams that aren’t named the New York Yankees are winning the World Series.

If the owners were smart, and they’re not, they would leave well enough alone. If they want to fiddle with something, go after the monstrosity called "the designated hitter" in the American League.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Baby Grace is not Maddie

It’s a sad, sad story — the discovery of the body of little girl in Galveston Bay dubbed “Baby Grace.”

But Lord, are some people stupid.

To back up: The child’s body was found last week in a storage box that washed ashore. The blonde child had been murdered — fractured skull — but nothing else was known about her.

She was two or three, had beautiful long hair, and was wearing a pink outfit with white light-up tennis shoes.

Your blood runs cold when you think about the monster who could harm that innocent soul and then throw her body into the bay in a box. This is why we have the death penalty.

Anyhow, authorities are trying to I.D. the child, so they put out a description and sketch of her and hoped that a good tip might come in.

Here’s where the Stupid Part comes in: A few people called to suggest that she might be Madeleine "Maddie" McCann, the 4-year-old British girl who was taken from a resort hotel in Portugal in May.

A very polite major with the Galveston County Sheriff’s Office said tactfully, “Based on the totality of the circumstances, we do not believe it’s her (Madeleine).”

What he should have said was, “Maddie disappeared in Portugal, which is a country on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, which is a large body of salty water, and to suggest that she somehow wound up in America six months later is "My Name is Earl" dumb.”

Apparently some folks couldn’t figure that out, and that’s scary. Even scarier is the fact that these folks are almost certainly eligible to drive cars, own guns and operate heavy machinery.

I hope I don’t run into one of them.

If you have a better idea about who Baby Grace could be, call the Galveston County sheriff’s Office at 409-766-2222 or the agency’s tip line at 866-248-8477.

Baby Grace deserves better. She deserves to have her name on her tombstone.

One more thing: Her killer needs to be named too.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

Can you hear me now?

A city near Dallas wants to be the first in the state to ban drivers from talking on cell phones while passing through school zones.

Two words: Won’t work.

Sure, it may garner some fines for Highland Park, but the ritzy town isn’t short of cash.

City Council members and state legislators all over should accept a transformation that has spread over this country in the past few years like a sunrise.

Cell phones are here to stay. Almost everybody has one, and we yak on them all the time. Even in our cars.

In theory, it’s not supposed to be safe, and I wouldn’t say it makes you a better driver. But it doesn’t necessarily make you a worse driver.

If you’re on a straight stretch of road with no traffic signals, you can probably gab away without waking up in the emergency room.

In other situations, you should react accordingly. But then, you’re always supposed to react accordingly to rain, stop signs, school zones, etc.

Even the claim that hands-free units are “safe” is shaky. Even with your hands on the wheel in the “10 o’clock and 2 o’clock” positions recommended in driver's ed, you’re still not focusing 100 percent on the road.

At least part of your brain is focused on the latest news about Aunt Sue’s baby or whether you should get milk on the way home or how much A-Rod can rake in as a free agent.

And unless your “hands-free” unit can dial numbers or hang up without you touching it, it really isn’t “hands-free,” now is it?

I don’t know what the answer is. If some moron plowed into me while he was blathering on a cell phone, I’d be ticked off. If I lived, that is.

But cell phones are not going away, and people will talk on them while they are driving.

Unless someone invents a jamming device that turns them to static on roads, we have to deal with that reality.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Be a safe 'Weenie!

It’s that time of year again, a time when folks are fearful and nervous, wondering if they will survive. No, not April 15! It’s Halloween!

By now most of us realize that those old stories about trick-or-treating kids getting apples with razor blades in them are phony.

Some hospitals used to give free X-rays of candy bags on Halloween but gave up because they never found anything.

Sure, there was that slimeball in Houston nicknamed “The Candyman” who killed his own son with poisoned candy and claimed the kid got it while trick-or-treating. Thank God he got the Mother of All Injections for that horror.

And no, when it happened, I didn’t worry if the dirtbag was suffering cruel and unusual punishment because the needle prick was somewhat unpleasant.

But hey, it never hurts to be careful. So when you take your little ones door-to-door tonight, here are five things to watch out for:

1) Houses bearing signs that read, “A registered sex offender lives here.”

2) Doors opened by creepy men wearing clothing that says, “I skinned a man alive and all I got was this lousy shirt.”

3) A house with an armored Humvee in the driveway with a “Blackwater Security” bumper sticker.

4) Doors opened by shifty-looking characters who say, “Sure, c’mon in! And don’t mind those blood-curdling screams coming from basement. … It’s, uh, my washing machine.”

5) And finally, please make sure to avoid those decrepit homes occupied by weird old men with 64 dogs — some dead, some alive, all mangy — or crazy old ladies with 64 cats — some dead, some alive, all mangy.

How will you know if it’s one of those homes? Well, a dead giveaway would be … the presence of dozens of dogs or cats — some dead, some alive, all mangy!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Ralph's return

Below is a legitimate news story … with the real truth (my comments) in parenthesis:

WASHINGTON — Consumer advocate and 2004 independent presidential candidate Ralph Nader (yes, that annoying jerk) sued the Democratic Party on Tuesday, contending officials conspired to keep him from taking votes away from nominee John Kerry. (Righhhttt; if the bigshots hadn’t stepped in, Ralphie would’ve won.)

Nader’s lawsuit (which doesn’t have a chance in hell) … also named as co-defendants Kerry’s campaign, the Service Employees International Union and several so-called 527 organizations such as America Coming Together. ... (Left out were the Flat Earth Society, the Temperance Union and the Committee to Eliminate the Designated Hitter in the American League.)

The lawsuit also alleges that the Democratic National Committee conspired to force Nader off the ballot in several states (because every vote that loser got helped elect Bush).

“The Democratic Party is going after anyone who presents a credible challenge to their monopoly over their perceived voters,” Nader said in a statement (though he never explained why the word “credible” should appear in the same sentence with his name.) …

Among other things, the lawsuit alleges that the DNC tried to bankrupt Nader’s campaign by suing to keep him off the ballot in 18 states. (Why not all 50, Ralphie; can't you count that high?)

It also suggests the DNC sent Kerry supporters to crash a Nader petition drive in Portland, Ore., in June 2004, preventing him from collecting enough signatures to get on the ballot. (And let’s not forget the time the dry cleaner didn’t have Nader’s shirts ready or the time he ordered a pastrami on rye and got pumpernickel instead.)

DNC spokesman Luis Miranda declined comment on the suit (because he had 137 better things to do).

Monday, October 29, 2007

3 quick hits

Mary, Mary quite contrary

Former Jefferson County employee Mary Darlene Koch was already in hot water.

She was accused of embezzling $77,000 from a county training account and fired. It is a second-degree felony.

On Monday, she failed to appear at a hearing in her case. So an arrest warrant was issued for her.

Somebody needs to tell Klepto Koch that there is a very technical legal term for what she is doing. It is called …

DIGGING THE HOLE DEEPER!!!

Another shocking announcement from a guy you didn't know was still alive:

Former rock ’n’ roll crooner Donovan said from Scotland that he is opening the Invincible Donovan University, where students will study transcendental meditation.

First, the kids these days don't remember Donovan, who goes all the way back to the Psychedelic Era of rock music. His big hits were “Hurdy Gurdy Man” and “Mellow Yellow.”

Second, Donovan knew he would get some snickers with this announcement. In fact, he said, “I know it sounds like an airy-fairy hippie dream to go on about ’60s peace and love.”

Wow, that’s spooky.

That’s the exact, literal, word-for-word reaction that millions of people had across the globe.

You can have my brew when you pry it from my cold, dead ... oh, heck, I need to go to the bathroom.

If you thought the politicians had some explaining to do over high gas prices, you ain’t seen nothing yet. A shortage of hops and soaring prices for barley and wheat could lead to — no, not famine, you idiot — something even worse … beer shortages!

That’s right, folks; we had the article in Sunday’s Business Section. Seems it costs more and more to make a good brew — and you can throw in higher costs for glass bottles and aluminum cans as well.

The brewmeisters can’t just pass along these costs to the average beer-swiller because there are so many brands out there that something is always on sale somewhere.

And contrary to the nonsense peddled in beer commercials, most drinkers are not fanatically loyal to one brand. They want something cold and beery; for most of them, one yellow-brown liquid is as good as the next.

They might even — gasp! — switch to wine or the hard stuff!

The outlook is grim. Even the big breweries are scrambling, and the micro-brewers are crying in their beer.

... Well, they would if they had any.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Betcha can't smoke just one

Who’d have thunk it?

The medical marijuana program in Oregon is going up in smoke.

The limited program that voters approved in 1998 has expanded, well, like a mushroom cloud.

Supporters said then that only about 500 people a year would need to smoke pot to get relief from terrible diseases like cancer, AIDS, multiple sclerosis, etc.

Oregonians, being a tolerant lot, said OK.

Nine years later, things have changed. A lot.

Today, the program has exploded to nearly 15,000 “patients,” as they are called in the Beaver State. Another 1,700 new or renewed applications are filed each month. These days, folks want legal weed to deal with conditions that aren’t exactly life-threatening, like back pain or menstrual cramps.

In three southwestern counties, an average of 1 resident in 89 is a card-carrying toker. (Must be a lot of sick folks there.)

More than 7,000 other Oregonians get pot privileges because they are “caregivers” to “patients.”

Cops estimate that 40 percent of the state’s licensed pot growers have broken at least one law — most commonly the one against growing too much cannabis.

That’s not surprising, since a pound of pot sells for about $2,500 on the streets.

Because of all this, some folks in Oregon want to repeal the program. Or at least scale it back.

But the pot smokers won’t hand over their joints and bongs without a fight.

I called up an old friend in Oregon who’s enrolled in the program (sinus condition, sore knees) and he seemed determined to defend it:

“Dude, it’s like, wow, let us do our thing, because we’re not, like, hurtin’ anyone, y’know? … I mean, it’s like, uh … what was I talkin’ about?”

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

A last resort

A lot of rich people aren’t smart, but at least they know a little bit about money. After all, they are rich. If they don’t, pretty soon they become un-rich.

Like Stephen R. Smith. He’s the jillionaire (maybe former jillionaire) who poured a ton of money into a resort in West Texas. As much as $80 million.

The resort — actually, now it’s a former resort — had a 92-room hotel, fancy golf course, private air strip, etc. More goodies were planned — condominiums, a gated community, etc. — but they never happened.

The problem, as realtors say, was, “Location, location, location.”

The resort is squished between the Big Bend state and national parks along the Rio Grande River. The nearest big town is El Paso, and it’s not really near. It’s 300 miles away.

If you know anything about the geography of West Texas, it is basically a large, barren, sun-baked desert. Words like “desolate” and “Godforsaken” have been applied to it — quite accurately.

Back to the resort: It went bankrupt from a distinct lack of customers.

Last week, it was put up for auction. It didn’t sell.

Now I’m no expert in these things, but I have a hunch that the reason nobody wanted to pour any more money down that rathole is the same reason that the “resort” went bust in the first place, which of course is that …

IT IS IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE!!!

Just another one to file under, “What were they thinking?”

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Weather alert!

BEAUMONT — An outbreak of strange weather was observed in Southeast Texas on Tuesday. Instead of the steamy, fiery, sweaty, stroke-inducing conditions we usually struggle with, temperatures today were quite different. Old-timers refer to this odd weather as “not hot.”

This bizarre weather is not expected to last. Temperatures should be in the upper 90s tomorrow with sunny skies.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Jail justice

I am sorry, in a vague way, that Jefferson County jail inmate Ronnie Tejada lost his legs due to complications from diabetes.

I am delighted, in a very enthusiastic way, that I don’t have to pay for his misfortune.

Tejada, of course, sued the county for bad medical care while in the slammer. Some folks were worried that the county or its health-care provider at the jail would get socked with a huge judgment … which would cause the county’s insurance/health costs to soar even higher … and encourage more lawsuits by other inmates.

Thank God common sense prevailed. Thank God a jury didn’t fall for Tejada’s sob story and throw him a pile of cash — thinking it was covered by insurance or was just sitting around in the petty cash drawer.

There is no free lunch.

If Tejada had collected a whopper of a judgment, it would have eventually come out of the pockets of every taxpayer in Jefferson County — most of whom contribute a lot more to the general welfare than a guy sitting in the klink on a charge of family violence.

The Enterprise covered this case well. I saw nothing that backed up Tejada’s claim. I saw several things which reaffirmed my belief that:

1) Lots of people with diabetes lose legs. That’s lousy, and it’s another reason to avoid this disease if you can.

2) Jail inmates should get good health care. But the notion that doctors and nurses should hover over these little darlings is absurd.

This country is still trying to figure out how to help hundreds of brave men and women wounded in Iraq or Afghanistan.

If you’re looking for someone without an arm or leg who deserves sympathy, look to them.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Three quick hits

1) Strangest comment by a college student this week — hell, actually in quite some time:

After a skeleton was found during construction work at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks, freshman Scott Eul, 19, was quoted as saying:

“It’s really scary. If it is a dead person, I hope it’s from a long time ago.”

2) Further proof that criminals aren’t really very smart:

A man in Santa Fe, N.M., was arrested Tuesday for violating his probation by possessing stolen property.

The bust occurred after Victor Lopez, 32, walked into a meeting with his probation officer with a stolen $2,500 Rolex watch on his wrist.

… Did they get the Beemer in the parking lot he just carjacked?

3) Scariest headline this week — hell, actually in quite some time:

(from USA Today Web site, Thursday, Oct. 18)

“Most fake bombs missed by screeners”

Seems that the security screeners at LAX missed three-fourths of the fake bombs put into their normal load of suitcases, purses, etc.

At Chicago’s O’Hare, it wasn’t much better; 60 percent of the fake bombs were missed.

I wonder if the supervisor of any of these highly trained barriers to terrorists said the next day during the morning staff meeting, “Hey, guys, we can do better than this! Let’s at least shoot for missing only half of the fake bombs, OK? Thanks; I'd appreciate your cooperation.”

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Home dentistry? No thanks!

Reason No. 837 to be against national health insurance:

That would be the headline on page 6A of Wednesday’s Enterprise:

“Shortage has Britons pulling their own teeth.”

That’s right, folks. Britain’s National Health Insurance Service is so inept that some Brits can’t find any dentists who participate in it. And if they can’t afford dentists in private practice, they do things like pull out their own teeth … or use super glue to hold down loose crowns!

Yikes!

Look, the health care system we have here in the states is not perfect. In fact, it’s far from that. It needs serious reforms — quickly.

But I do not want to rely on the government for health care. It will be worse!

I do not want to trust my life/health to the same bureaucrats who handle subsidies for mohair, tried to make us drive 55 mph and created a tax code that no one, not even the so-called experts, can decipher.

… By the way, this is the second blog in a row on the somewhat obscure topic of dentistry.

Coincidence … or conspiracy?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Dental dread

OK, so we’ve got this icky dentist in Woodland, Calif., who feels up female patients.

That would be Dr. Mark Anderson, accused of fondling the breasts of 27 women who wanted him to concentrate on another part of their bodies — like their teeth, seeing as he is a dentist and all.

That’s creepy enough. But the story gets weirder.

Instead of admitting he’s a perv and begging for mercy, Anderson figures the best defense is a good offense.

He says massages of the pectoral muscles are legitimate therapy for something called TMJ, temporo-mandibular joint disorder, which causes head and neck pain.

If I were the judge handling that case, I wouldn’t know whether to laugh or retch.

But wait, it gets weirder still. One of the complainants, a 31-year-old woman, said Anderson fondled her AT LEAST SIX TIMES over two years.

She says she started wearing tight shirts with high necklines on her visits, but "Anderson would still get in under her shirt and bra," according to a police report.

Women of America: If you go to a dentist and he gropes you, call the police.

Oh, and one more thing: DO NOT GO BACK TO VISIT HIM AGAIN AND AGAIN!

Monday, October 15, 2007

Al Gore keeps winning!

NASHVILLE, Tenn. — (Surreal News Network) — Just days after winning the Nobel Peace Prize for his visionary work about global warming, former Vice President Al Gore also won Time Magazine’s “Man of the Year” for 2007 along with MVP in the National League and was declared People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” Gore said to cheering supporters at his Tennessee home. “I knew I had Man of the Year sewed up, but I was afraid I’d have to wait three more months and pretend that other people had a chance. … I really hadn’t played baseball since I was a kid, but if this award will further the battle against global warming, then the world will truly be a better place. … And my wife Tipper has always known that I’m one hot dude — that’s hot in a good way, of course, not in a bad way, like global warming.”

Gore, who also won an Oscar for his documentary film about global warming, “An Inconvenient Truth,” is also believed to be a strong candidate for MTV’s Male Artist of the Year.

More on this story as it develops.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

He's baaack

If you're surprised at the coming return of radio shock-jock Don Imus, you haven’t been paying attention.

In this country, you can do some pretty stupid or disgusting things that should be career-enders. But after a few months of penance (real or fake), a carefully worded apology or two and an emotional plea for a fresh start, you’re back in the saddle.

Hey, even sports broadcaster Marv Albert slinked back to the booth after that embarrassing trial involving his former girlfriend. Yuck!

At least O.J. wasn’t able to weasel his way back into respectability. Thank God we still draw the line at murder.

For almost anyone else, though, it ain’t over til it’s over. Terrell Owens single-handedly destroyed the Philadelphia Eagles in 2005 with a world-class temper tantrum. Some naïve folks wondered if he would ever play again.

They were dreaming. As soon as T.O. was available, Cowboys owner Jerry Jones couldn’t wait to sign him.

Like T.O., the I-Man didn’t have to cool his jets for long. “Imus brings, potentially, large national advertisers,” said Tom Taylor of the industry Web site radio-info.com. “And there’s also syndication, not only on radio but television.”

Gosh, Mr. Taylor, do you mean that money is more important than principle in big-time commerce?

It usually is, of course. Imus also fared better than most temporarily disgraced celebs.

He got a multi-million-dollar settlement from CBS for letting him out of his contract. Now he apparently has signed an equally juicy gig with New York-based WABC-AM, owned by Citadel Broadcasting. He may end up making almost as much money in ’07 as he would have anyway.

One more thing about Don Idiot: His comment about the Rutgers women’s basketball team — nappy headed ho’s — was cruel and racist. He deserved a public spanking.

But what about the countless rappers, actors and comedians who use the same terms — or worse — all the time?

They are the people who put these words into the national vocabulary, where guys like Imus pick them up.

If we want to cure the disease — and we should — let’s go to the source.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Princess Diana: Dazzling, but still dead

I guess every country has to have one.

We had the Kennedy assassination. The Brits have the Princess Diana investigation.

Both are cut and dried. But both have hashed and rehashed more than anything except the Old Testament — and only because the first part of the Bible has been around longer.

Oh sure, lots of people think otherwise. But then, lots of people believe in astrology or think that reality TV is reality. Some folks just can’t accept obvious explanations.

To each his own. But if you’d like to save yourself some time, let me help you out:

JFK was not killed in an elaborate, multi-sniper conspiracy by the Russians/Mafia/Cubans that has been cleverly covered up for 44 years.

He was shot by a lone nut with a cheap rifle on the sixth floor of the building where he worked.

It’s a shabby way for a great man to be erased from history, but that’s what happened.

On the other side of the pond, Princess Diana and boyfriend Dodi Fayed were not murdered by the British secret service/the Mafia/Israeli agents in 1997 to cover up Di’s pregnancy or prevent her from marrying a Muslim or because Prince Charles was big-time jealous.

She and Dodi died because their loser of a chauffeur was drunk and careless while speeding away from the paparazzi and slammed their Mercedes into a concrete pillar.

It’s a shabby way for a glamorous couple to be erased from history, but that’s what happened.

JFK, at least, was a president. So his murder would have to be thoroughly investigated.

Princess Diana was not a world leader. Basically, she was really good looking and famous for being famous.

Incredibly, the Brits are going through a complex investigation about what really occurred in that tunnel in Paris.

Have at it, mate. I guess they could be wasting their time on something worse, like why their national sport of soccer is so boring.

But in the end, they will find that Di and Dodi died because their loser of a chauffeur was drunk and careless while speeding away from the paparazzi and slammed their Mercedes into a concrete pillar.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

See ya, New York!

See ya!

That’s what the obnoxious Yankee announcer shouts when one of the team’s overpaid sluggers like A-Rod or Juicin’ Giambi hits one out.

Well, for the third year in a row, thousands of Yankee-haters get to say that to the Boys in the Bronx as they depart the playoffs in the first round.

See ya, George Steinbrenner!

It’s not really about baseball. As I blogged after the Mets collapsed, it’s about money.

Baseball is the only major sport without a salary cap. If an owner wants to, he can simply buy a championship instead of earning it the old-fashioned way.

That’s what the Yankees have done for years. They have highest payroll in baseball, $195 million.

That’s what the Mets have done lately too. They have the third-highest payroll overall ($117 million) and highest in the National League.

So it is delicious revenge for everybody outside the 212 area code when that cynical strategy fails.

The Mets never even made the playoffs, thanks to the greatest meltdown ever by a first-place team. (They blew a seven-game lead with 17 left to play.)

Now the Yanks get bounced again in the first round while Steinbrenner was getting fitted for another championship ring.

By the lowly Cleveland Indians — 22nd in team salaries, a mere $61 million, less than a third of the Yankee total.

How sweet it is!

As far as I’m concerned, this year’s baseball playoffs are already a success. Sure, my team didn’t make it and neither did yours.

But the New York millionaires won’t be in the World Series either. Hallelujah! And don’t even try to scare me the prospect of the mother of all nightmares, another “Subway Series.”

On top of everything, the Cubs and Phillies got swept too, and I’d be lying if I said I shed a tear over either one’s fate.

You don’t have to be Commissioner Bud Selig to proclaim, “The state of baseball is good!”

Friday, October 05, 2007

Doh! The news as delivered by Homer Simpson

Sometimes, you read or hear something on the news that’s so silly it seems like a joke. But you go back over it again, and it was indeed supposed to be serious. For example:

The presidential candidates recently released another round of fundraising reports. GOP Sen. John McCain said the amount of cash he brought in really wasn’t important.

“If money mattered, I think (Nelson) Rockefeller would have been president,” he said.

Gee, let’s figure this one out. There are two kinds of candidate reactions to these reports:

A) This group is delighted at how much it raked in and crowing about its success.

B) This one is embarrassed at how much it collected and coming up with excuses.

If you don’t know which group McCain belongs to after that comment, you probably shouldn’t be allowed to vote.

Then there’s the continuing soap opera with former NFL star Ricky Williams.

Ricky is taking a temporary vacation from the NFL due to some legal difficulties. But he has applied for reinstatement, and his agent is optimistic.

In fact, agent Leigh Steinberg went so far as to say, “Ricky is extremely excited about the prospect of playing in the NFL again and hopeful for a positive response.”

Uh, Leigh, let’s be careful with the P-word there. The reason that Ricky is out of uniform, of course, is his tendency to produce positive drug tests.

Finally, we have the mysterious Israeli raid on a suspected WMD facility in northern Syria. Neither country has said much about the incident, and what they have said has been doubletalk.

For example, Syrian President Bashar Assad said recently that the Israelis had merely bombed an “unused military building.”

Bash, buddy, I don’t know what the building was. But I highly doubt the Israelis would take huge risks to bomb an empty building.

I will concede one point, however.

After being blasted to hell by one of the best air forces in the world, you can bet that whatever was there before is now indeed an “unused military building.”

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

It's never a fair trade-off

I live in Groves and work out at the Exygon gym in Nederland. So almost every day I go through the intersection of Twin City Highway and Nederland Avenue. That’s where Bryan Turner of Nederland was killed last year, on April 8.

He was only 18. He had just picked up a pizza in the same shopping center where the gym is at. He was going home, through that intersection, when he was murdered.

The only merciful thing about it is that he probably never knew what hit him.

What hit him was a speeding car containing two dirtbags who had been robbing people with box cutters in the parking lots of convenience stores. After the third such robbery, and the second on Twin City Highway, deputies started pursuing them.

The punks fled on Twin City Highway, going nearly 100 mph, at one point heading northbound in the southbound lane. At the intersection of Nederland Avenue, they ran a red light and smashed into Turner’s Scion broadside. I heard that the Scion was nearly squished flat.

Humberto Cuevas Jr. and Romualdo Fuentes pleaded guilty this week. Each has to serve at least 20 years in prison. And since they are 21 and 22 respectively, that means that they won’t breathe free air until they are middle-aged. Both could be deported after that.

It’s a fair sentence, but in one sense it means nothing. It’s isn’t a fair trade-off — punishment for them in exchange for an innocent person losing his life.

Those two could spend the rest of their lives in prison at hard labor on bread and water. It wouldn’t come close to making up for what they did.

I will say it again: Brian Turner was only 18. He had just graduated from Nederland High School. He had a universe of adventure ahead of him.

He had just picked up a pizza. All he wanted to do was go home and eat it — and live the rest of his life.

He never made it. It’s not right.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Celebrity shockers

I don’t know what to think any more.

Kevin Federline has just been declared the more responsible parent of his children.

I did not believe I would read those words in this lifetime.

If K-Fed is now the brains of the outfit, what’s next? What other shockers could await us in the morning’s paper?

Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if I soon read …

TEHERAN, Iran — Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad stunned many of his countrymen this week when he admitted during an interview, “Really, if you think about all the dumb stuff I say and do, the threats, the Holocaust denial — and don’t forget my goofy clothes — the only conclusion you could reach is that I’m a silly little turd.”

WASHINGTON, D.C. — President Bush announced today that after a great deal of reconsideration, “We probably should have had some kind of plan about what to do in Iraq after we took down Saddam. Hey; my bad! Too bad we can’t get a do-over with that one.”

SAN FRANCISCO — Former Giants slugger Barry Bonds acknowledged today that he had been using performance-enhancing drugs for years. “Was I juicing? Hell yes! Did you think I was going to play by the rules like all those other chumps? … Why are looking at me like that? Did I stutter?”

NEW YORK, N.Y. — In a candid interview, Sen. Hillary Clinton admitted that her first reaction to the Monica Lewinsky scandal was not as calm as many had believed. “Let’s just say that the next morning, Bill got his pot of bubbling hot coffee bright and early — right where he needed it.”

LOS ANGELES — Paris Hilton confirmed today that she was indeed just as stupid as many people believed. “I don’t know doodly. Things just enter my head and rattle around like marbles in a, you know, whatchamacallit? … By the way, is it true that MTV is going off the air because of, like, that global warming thing?”

Monday, October 01, 2007

An amazin' mess

You don’t have to be a sports fan to love the collapse of the New York Mets.

It all comes down to that familiar thing — money.

The Mets have the third-highest payroll in baseball ($117 million) and the highest in the National League.

The Dodgers — who also collapsed (sweet!) — had the second-highest payroll in the National League ($108 million) and fifth-highest overall.

Above the Mets are only — who else? — the Evil Empire Yankees at $195 million and the Red Sox at $143 million.

Gee, I wonder if Boston’s massive payroll had something to do with them winning their division for the first time since 1995?

Back to the Mets: They were supposed to cruise to first place in the NL East.

They did that last year, with a big payroll, and they added even more top-dollar free agents before this season began. Like the Yankees, they had big names and big salaries at almost every starting position.

But all that money couldn’t buy an inning of postseason time.

The Mets were in first place by seven games with only 17 left to play. Somehow, the gang of millionaires couldn’t close the deal.

It was the worst collapse in baseball history, and I loved every excruciating minute of it.

The Phillies, with a mid-level payroll of 13th highest, surged and passed the Big Apple’s big bucks.

Something like that will restore your faith in human nature. Underdogs can win, and snooty favorites can fold.

I hope the Yankees crater in the playoffs too — precisely because they have so much more money and talent than anyone else.

Can anything make the Mets’ mess more amazin’?

Well, on Sunday, the last day of the season, when they could have at least assured a tie for first place by winning, the Mets were thumped 8-1.

The team that beat them? The Florida Marlins, the squad with the lowest payroll in the National League.

Ka-ching!

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Crime and punishment

The lawyer for Beaumont doctor Jeffrey Klem is trying to work out a plea agreement on the child molestation charges he is facing in Houston.

That would make sense. Klem has already pleaded guilty to similar charges in Beaumont.

As his Houston attorney said in our paper Thursday, “Since Dr. Klem has already entered a plea agreement over there, it would be in everybody’s best interests, including the victims, to work out some kind of agreement in Harris County to avoid a trial.”

Well put, counselor. Let the wheels of justice grind on.

A few points must be made, however.

Despite admitting sexual contact with three young girls, so far Klem has avoided:

A) prison time

B) being forced to register as a sex offender

C) the loss of his medical license

In child molestation cases, these things can happen. The crimes can be difficult to prosecute. A child victim can be terrified at the prospect of testifying in court or being cross-examined.

In a curious bit of legal wizardry, Klem pleaded guilty to a more serious offense in Beaumont, a first-degree felony count of causing injury to a child, to avoid the sex-offender registry.

He also got 10 years of probation instead of hard time behind bars.

He may lose his medical license later. Right now, however, it’s undecided, and the process of revoking his credentials through the Texas Medical Board could take months.

Justice can still be served with another plea agreement in Houston.

If Klem continues to escape A, B and C as listed above, it will not.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

The fun continues

What is this, Dumb Jock Month?

First O.J. Simpson, pulls an armed robbery in Vegas, and a clownish one at that. This wasn’t “Ocean’s Eleven” with a smooth, wise-cracking George Clooney. It was more like “Earnest Goes Souvenir Shopping.”

The Juice, of course, doesn’t seem to realize how lucky he is to not be doing life for murder. Now he’s facing a whole bunch of years for a stupid stickup.

Then boxer Mike Tyson finds another way to screw up his life, namely drug possession and a DUI. He’s looking at more than four years inside for this one — almost as much time as he served for rape in the ’90s.

Now Michael Vick is slapped with tighter probation … for testing positive for marijuana.

Don’t these morons ever learn to leave well enough alone? I guess not.

One more blunder, and Vick will spend the next few months in jail — waiting to find out how many years he will spend in prison.

Maybe he considers it to be like summer training camp in the NFL — getting ready for the real thing.

As a result of his latest stunt, Vick has to wear one of those ankle bracelets that irritated former astronaut Lisa Nowak so much. He also has to remain home between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m., which pretty much rules out the party circuit.

Most seriously of all, he has just cheesed off the very judge who will sentence him later on for up to five years for that little dogfighting thing. Not smart, Michael.

I will give him one thing: The state charges that were filed against him this week look like piling on.

He has pleaded guilty to the crime in the federal system. He is supposed to tell investigators all he knows. How can he do that if he fears his confession will fuel the new round of state charges?

Two words: double jeopardy.

But don’t worry about any of these jerks. They had it all, and they threw it away.

It’s just amazing to watch them keep digging the hole deeper.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Don't be like Mike

If you’re tempted to feel sorry for boxer Mike Tyson, don’t.

True, the man who was the youngest heavyweight champion of the world (age 20) and held the undisputed crown for four years has fallen far. Reeaally far.

In addition to everything else you’ve read/heard about “Iron Mike,” his latest bout with the law has flattened him.

He’s facing a max of four years and three months in Arizona after pleading guilty to drug possession, driving under the influence and being an idiot.

OK, I made up that last charge. But the first two are legit.

The only questions now are exactly how much time he will serve and whether it will be in an Arizona state prison or Maricopa County Jail. I’m voting for the jail.

It’s run by Sheriff Joe Arpaio, the most controversial sheriff in America. In Sheriff Joe’s jail, life ain’t too easy. In fact, it’s kind of unpleasant.

Among other indignities, the inmates have to wear pink underwear, just so they don’t think they’re tough.

They eat meals that cost taxpayers only 30 cents a day. On that budget, I think you can pretty much rule out blackened redfish, deep-dish pizza, fresh fruit or gourmet coffee.

On top of everything, the bland cuisine is not enhanced by extras like salt or mustard.

If you obey laws and pay taxes, you gotta like that approach.

Anyhow, back to the first sentence in this blog. You can’t feel sorry for Mike Tyson for three reasons.

1) He had every chance in the world to lead a great life, and he blew it. Think of all the people who never had that chance.

2) He didn’t just make one mistake. He committed blunder and blunder until his life and career were in shambles.

3) Don't ever forget that he was convicted of rape in Indiana in 1992. That's a despicable crime.

As far as I’m concerned, Mike Tyson can bake in the Arizona sun for a long, long time. Good riddance to that loser.

He makes other fallen jocks like Floyd Landis or Michael Vick look like statesmen in comparison.

Friday, September 21, 2007

No parole? No problem

Hooray for M. Jodi Rell. She happens to be the governor of Connecticut, a Republican. On Friday, she did something that more politicians in both parties should do. She used common sense.

Rell banned parole for violent inmates until the state’s broken system is fixed. Several recent parolees have — surprise! — committed more crimes, including the ghastly triple murder in a home invasion in Cheshire that made national news.

Critics said Rell’s move could cause the state’s prisons to become overcrowded. That would be funny if it weren’t so serious.

Hmmm, let’s see: We could inconvenience some thugs for a few weeks or months longer, or we could let more innocent people be raped or brutalized or killed?

Even Homer Simpson could figure that one out.

Rell laid it out in plain English: “I will not allow public safety to be jeopardized because parolees return to a life of crime.”

There is a place for parole in our judicial system. It should be given to inmates who have shown they won’t hurt anyone else. If they can’t do that, they can stay behind bars till they're 90.

That’s not cruel, it’s humane. It puts the emphasis where it should be — on the rights and safety of law-abiding folks.

It’s not complex either, it’s simple common sense.

Thank God a few politicians in this country still have it.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Jerry Jones tanks again

I’m trying to root for the Dallas Cowboys, but owner Jerry Jones is making it hard.

If you’re from Southeast Texas, you have to have a soft spot in your heart for new head coach and former PN-G Indian Wade Phillips. Wade is one of the good guys. His dad Bum is a legend.

But Tank Johnson? Did the Cowboys have to be the team that couldn’t wait to sign the thug kicked off the Chicago Bears?

Well, since the Cowboys couldn’t wait to sign Terrell Owens, the jerk kicked off the Philadelphia Eagles, I guess no one should be surprised.

Is Pacman Jones, the thug suspended from the Tennessee Titans next? Why not. He shares the same last name and the same contempt for high standards as the Cowboys’ owner.

Tank Johnson’s agent said it all when he noted, “For a lot of reasons, he really just felt the Cowboys were the right fit.”

You'd better believe Tank was a good fit with ol’ Jerry. They share a lot in common — win at all costs on the field, do what you want off the field.

If somebody gets hurt — or killed, like Tank Johnson’s former “bodyguard” at a strip club shooting — well, heck, that’s the way the ball bounces sometimes.

Being a real role model? Doing the right thing even if it’s the hard thing? Don’t make them laugh. That’s for Boy Scouts and losers in their book.

And to think that uber-straight arrows Roger Staubach and Tom Landry used to represent the team’s image.

The Cowboys have come a long way since those days — a long way down.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Northern Exposure

Good luck, North Dakota, on your drive to boost the state population. That’s all I can say, as I sure as heck will never live there.

Neither will many other folks, including a bunch who were born there. That’s why the Roughrider State is hosting a job fair in Chicago and Colorado to lure young professionals back to their home state.

Seems that an economic boomlet of sorts has created more than 10,000 jobs. And while the good folks in North Dakota may have their shortcomings, they know that they have a better chance of convincing native-born sons and daughters to return. They know they will have a harder time persuading folks in the other 49 states to relocate to a place widely believed to be, well, cold, desolate and Godforsaken.

And that’s not just hearsay. I went through North Dakota on a bus once in the depth of winter. Once was enough.

I was headed to Manitoba, Canada, to view a total eclipse. The eclipse was nice. The journey up there was not.

I distinctly remember looking out of the bus window and viewing a surreal sunrise over a treeless, frigid, windblown plain. I distinctly remember thinking, “Hmmm. So this is what a sunrise on the moon must look like.”

Whatever. I bear no grudges. I do hope the job fairs will be successful and Bismarck will be bustin’ at the seams. In fact, I’ve come up with a few slogans to help the effort:

1) “We’re not the North Pole — that’s even farther north, if you can imagine that.”

2) “North Dakota — we’re like South Dakota, only colder.”

3) “Enjoy a wide variety of seasons in North Dakota — Fourth of July and winter.”

4) “Come to North Dakota! Frostbite isn’t just the Official State Disease, it’s a way of life!”

5) “North Dakota! It’s like Canada with American money!”

Monday, September 17, 2007

Blown away

Three cheers for Newton, Mass.! It wants to ban those infernal leaf blowers that are the worst invention since the annoying “Baby on Board” placards.

An alderman in Newton wants to outlaw gas-powered leaf blowers. The electric version, which is quieter and less powerful, would still be allowed.

Don’t laugh; its been done or discussed in Los Angeles, Calif., Aspen, Colo., and many other places. Personally, I think it ought to be done everywhere.

As one Newton woman was quoted by the Boston Globe, “I hate them. They go all day long. It really spoils the neighborhood and the peace and quiet we used to have.”

She’s right, of course, but there’s a bigger drawback to leaf blowers. It’s one so basic that most people don’t understand — until they’re on the receiving end of the problem.

Simply put, where are the leaves, grass and debris supposed to be blown to? It’s going off of one piece of land, but where does it end up?

A neighbor’s yard, so it looks like hell? The street, where cars can scatter it even more? Down the sewer, so the gunk can clog up when it rains?

I can tell you this: Nobody blows that stuff from one side of their property to another. It’s headed out, and if it lands where it’s a problem for you, well, tough luck.

On top of everything is that noise. That’s just what our world needs — more decibels.

Leaf blowers are one of those ideas that sound good on paper but fail in the real world.

Rake it. Mulch it. Or leave it lie.

Just don’t blow it over your property line and think you’ve accomplished something.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Humbled by Humberto

Talk about an unwelcome guest!

First Humberto drops in completely unexpected. Then he decides to morph from a tropical storm to a hurricane without any explanation whatsoever.

And he blows through in the wee hours, making sleep pretty much impossible.

Good riddance, H-man.

Also, we need to stop making history like this.

Hurricane Rita, according to Wikipedia, was the most intense tropical cyclone ever observed in the Gulf of Mexico.

Same month, two years later, Humberto reached greater intensity faster than any other tropical cyclone.

That’s enough for the upper Texas Gulf Coast. I though Florida was supposed to be Hurricane Central.

Back at the homestead in Groves, the power is still out. Rumor has it that it could be two or three days before the juice starts flowing again.

I hope that’s as wrong as the experts who said Tropical Storm Humberto would bring a little wind and rain.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Haul off, Humberto!

By the time you read this, it is probably raining outside. Bigtime.

Humberto's headed here. He’s supposed to be big and wet and messy. Let’s hope he’s brief too.

I don’t know what’s worse -- a hurricane that you track for days as it bores in on you like a guided missile, or a surprise like Humberto that pops up overnight.

I do know that I’m sick of going to Web sites and The Weather Channel so much when I could be wasting time watching football or baseball.

Maybe the Good Lord will let us dodge this bullet. After Rita, we could use a break or two when it comes to tropical disturbances.

Here’s to you and yours; may you come through this one OK.

And may you remember the supreme importance of those two little words:

Flood insurance.

Hang in there, Kevin!

Miracles do happen.

Sometimes they are big, like when an airplane that is about to crash gets back under control.

Sometimes they are very small, like when Kevin Everett wiggled his toes.

When I heard about the paralysis of this former Thomas Jefferson High School star, I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. Paralysis from the neck down is horrible beyond description.

To be honest, I think it’s better to be dead than left in that condition.

I’m no doctor, but I know that when these injuries happen there is rarely good news.

Yet against all odds, the former Buffalo Bills tight end can “wiggle his toes, bend his hip, move his ankles, elevate and kick his leg, as well as extend his elbows and slightly flex his biceps,” according to the Associated Press.

Kevin has lots of mountains left to climb. Forget about pro football; that is over forever. But if he can walk and use his arms, he will be the luckiest man alive.

He needs our prayers and support. Let’s make sure that both are not in short supply.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Sayonara, Osama

As if we aren’t sad enough with the approaching anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, we are going to have to put up with yet another videotape from the master murderer himself, Osama bin Laden.

A still from the upcoming release has already been posted on al Qaida Web site, and the video is expected to hit the ’Net anytime now. That’s al Qaida for you — 21st century tactics, 12th century thought.

It would be Osama’s first video since 2004. Apparently, life on the run in a series of dank caves isn’t all that much fun after all.

It’s amazing that anybody still thinks this moron is some kind of genius. He bolted like a coward as soon as we came after him. His only accomplishment since then has been staying alive.

I’m tired of him and his primitive rants.

The only video I want to see of him is one from an Air Force UCAV, an unmanned combat aerial vehicle, as a smart bomb streaks toward him.

That expression on his face as he looks up in that last millisecond will be priceless.

Until then, sleep well, Osama. Your suite in Hell is waiting.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

A crime, but not murder

I rarely side with criminals.

If they did the crime, they should do the time — and lots of it. I’m sorry if they had a tough life, but that’s tough. It doesn’t excuse horrible things like murder or rape.

Keep in mind that their victims usually suffer a “life sentence” from the crime. They never forget about it, they are never able to put away the fear or horror they felt.

But a former crook named William Barnes is getting a raw deal in Philadelphia, even though he did a despicable thing.

Four decades ago, he shot a rookie cop during a burglary. Officer Walter T. Barclay didn’t die, but he was paralyzed from the legs down.

That’s rough. It makes me sick to think of that brave lawman going through life in a wheelchair because of a dirtbag like Barnes.

But Barnes did serve 15 years for attempted murder, and that’s about what shooters get for that rap.

The problem is that former officer Barclay died two weeks ago. The medical examiner ruled that his death was due to the gunshot wound he got back in 1966. Now the D.A. wants to charge Barnes for murder.

Sorry, no sale. Forty-one years is too long of a time to lapse between shooting and death.

What Barnes did way back then was a crime. But it wasn’t murder then, and it shouldn’t be now.

The D.A. should drop the charges. Barnes is 71. He will face a different kind of judgment soon.

Monday, September 03, 2007

See ya, senator

Billy Martin is a great lawyer. He has represented the wealthy and powerful ranging from Monica Lewinsky to Michael Vick. Now he has been hired by the soon-to-be-former Sen. Larry Craig of Idaho to help him straighten up this little mess about cruising for gay sex in an airport restroom.

Good luck, Billy. As with your latest client, the guy who once played quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons, it’s hard to overcome a strong case. And it’s really hard to overcome a mountain of evidence.

Vick was involved in dogfighting up to his eyebrows. That’s the way it looked from the start of this mess, and by golly, that’s where it ended up.

Heck, Martin did Vick a favor by convicing him to stop spending money on lawyers, plead out and hope for a light sentence.

It’s not clear what Martin is supposed to do for Craig, who said when announcing his resignation, “ … clearing my name is important to me and my family.”

Uh, Larry, it’s a little late for that. The cat is out of the bag, and you are out of the closet. Years of rumors about Craig have been confirmed by his Minnesota misadventure.

If Craig tries to push this nonsense about an undercover cop misconstruing his intentions, he will only accomplish two things.

1) People will laugh even harder, and

2) Other men whom Craig has been, er, involved with will come forward.

Unless Craig is even dumber than he looks, he will realize this. The hiring of Billy Martin and the brave talk about “clearing my name” are simply gestures designed to put up the appearance of resistance.

Nothing will come of this nonsense — indeed, nothing can. Craig will shuffle back to Idaho and grow potatoes or something in his retirement.

Maybe he will go to his grave pretending he was hounded. Maybe a few fools will even believe him.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that while senators can and do get away with a lot, they can’t and shouldn’t get away with something like this.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Further proof that times really have changed, and not for the better

An elementary school in Colorado Springs, Colo., has banned tag.

Seems that some kids at Discovery Canyon Campus school complained that they were being chased against their will on the playground.

My, my. We certainly can’t have that, now can we?

Assistant principal Cindy Fesgen said tag “causes a lot of conflict on the playground.”

Apparently, assistant principal Cindy Fesgen doesn’t realize that when these kids grow up, they will encounter other kinds of conflict, such as traffic jams, restaurants with poor service and sports teams that lose even though you root fervently for them.

Fortunately, the folks who run Discovery Canyon Campus school haven’t turned the entire operation into a Wimp Factory. For example, running games are still allowed on the playground … as long as the kiddos don’t chase each other!

I don’t know about you, but my confidence in America’s future has just headed south. Let us all hope that some good news somewhere will provide an uptick.

If it does, I’ll blog about it.

Until then, we trust that the lads and lassies and Discovery Canyon Campus school continue to enjoy conflict-free recreational opportunities in an ecologically friendly setting that encourages mutually supportive and affirmative interactions.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Danger? What danger? Oh, you mean that danger.

Jim Woolford, a police major in Pontiac, Ill., must be an optimistic guy. Heck, I bet when he wakes up in the morning, he thinks he might win the lottery or discover gold in the back yard.

How else could you explain his statement Tuesday, after six guns were sized from the local high school and three people were arrested:

“At no time was any child in danger.”

Uh, Jim, not to split hairs or anything, but any time six — count ’em, six! — guns are found in a school, I’m thinking we've got a problem. In fact, I’m thinking it’s the kind of problem that, well, puts a child in danger.

In fact, Woolford himself also said, “Early this morning we received information ... that there may be weapons at the high school and it was indicated that there were threats the weapons could be used.”

The situation was so dire that the school was locked down. As in nobody goes in or out until the cops knew what they were dealing with.

Again, all that brings the ol’ D word — danger — right back into play.

Fortunately, no one was hurt at the school.

But if I’m a parent, and I learn that my kid is in a school with a mini-arsenal, I believe I will go ahead and skip all the interim steps and proceed immediately to worry … about danger.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Thank God for small favors, No. 3,749

A judge in Los Angeles has extended his restraining order preventing a Texas doctor from selling a 1994 videotape that shows the breast enlargement surgery of Anna Nicole Smith.

Friday, August 24, 2007

The inconvenienced astro-nut

Reason No. 67 as to why you might not want to break the law:

You might have to wear an ankle bracelet if you’re released on bond, and it’s a real pain in the, uh, ankle.

Literally. And don’t take my word for it, ’cause I’ve never been busted. Go directly to a very good source — former astronaut Lisa Nowak.

On Friday, Nowak asked a Florida judge to let her give back the electronic monitoring ankle bracelet so graciously loaned to her by the Orlando, Fla., probation folks.

This piece of judicial jewelry helps police keep track of where Nowak is, and where she shouldn’t be — like trying to eliminate the third party in a love triangle, which of course led to her current predicament and put the “former” in former astronaut.

Anyhoo, Nowak says the bracelet is no day at the beach. She claims she can’t wear it in public places because she is embarrassed that it might go off. Can’t get it wet. Says it’s bulky and uncomfortable. Interferes with her military boots. (She’s still a Navy pilot, though I personally wouldn’t let her take up a fighter loaded with surface-to-air missiles for a little spin around the Eastern Time Zone. But that’s just me.)

On top of everything, Nowak says the darned thing costs too much. She has to pay Orlando authorities weekly rent of $105. (Can’t they work out a monthly rate?) And she has to change the batteries every 12-15 hours. That schedule would make even the Energizer Bunny tired.

Whatever. Circuit Court Judge Marc L. Lubet will digest all this and make a Solomon-like decision soon.

Maybe he should ask the former astronaut this: “Lisa, darling, would you like to continue wearing this unpleasant little device … or get thrown back in the slammer until your trial?”

If the former astronaut had those choices, she might figure out that the ankle ornament isn’t that bad after all.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Michael Vick clears the record

ATLANTA — In view of, er, certain legal developments, the Public Relations Department at Bad Newz Kennels would like to issue the following clarifications regarding comments by and about our beloved CEO, Michael Vick, and those unfortunate charges of dogfighting:

In July, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell told SI.com that Mr. Vick said to him, “His comments to me were very consistent with what he said publicly: That he does not have any involvement in dogfighting, that he loves dogs, that he would not have any interest in that, that it wasn’t happening at his property. … ”

What Mr. Vick actually meant to tell the commissioner was that he did not have any involvement in dogfighting “except for the times when he was deeply and enthusiastically involved in dogfighting.”

Also, instead of saying “he loves dogs,” Mr. Vick meant to say “he loves dogs when they are disemboweling one another in a really good fight.”

Mr. Vick regrets if the commissioner misunderstood him on these points.

Also, in an interview with radio station WVEE-FM in July, Mr. Vick said, “I’ve learned a lot through this situation. I know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel."

What Mr. Vick really meant to say was that he has learned a lot about masterminding criminal enterprises. For example, he now knows it's a real good idea to maintain six degrees of separation between him and any thugs on the lower end.

Also, Mr. Vick now believes that the “light at the end of the tunnel” will be visible in three to five years, depending on time off for good behavior.

Finally, on the day he was indicted, Mr. Vick said “I look forward to clearing my good name. …”

What Mr. Vick actually meant was that he looked forward to clearing his cell of his personal belongings on the day when he is released from prison.

Mr. Vick also wishes to announce a clearance sale on his stock of No. 7 jerseys and his bobblehead figurines. And due to popular demand, “Free Michael!” bumper stickers are now available.

Finally, Mr. Vick is asking his fans to stop calling his telephone number and leaving a recording of “Who Let The Dogs Out?” Or asking him how it feels “to be hounded” by these charges. Or asking whether he will be doing any more personal appearances with McGruff The Crime Dog.

Mr. Vick says those things are not funny any more.

Further inquiries to Mr. Vick may be directed to the Federal Bureau of Prisons.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Dean, Dean go away!

I hate it. I hate the whole drama of:

1) Is it going to hit us?

2) Should I stay or go?

3) If I stay, will I have power or water?

4) If I go, where will I go?

And on and on.

Hurricanes are lousy. We all knew that in general before Rita — and maybe other storms, depending on your age/history. Now it’s personal.

The only good thing you can say about hurricanes is that within a day or so, you know they’re coming. I guess earthquakes and volcanoes are worse.

Still, hurricanes stink.

Dean needs to keep bearing west and make landfall where there’s lots of sand and not many people.

I’m praying for it. We got hit once. That should be enough for any person, place or thing.

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