Do the crime, pay the fine

I never knew that illegally downloading music was such a serious no-no.

As in the Boston University graduate student who was ordered to pay $675,000 to four record labels for filching 30 songs.

Good grief; that’s $22,500 per song!

What woulda happened if he had also spit on the sidewalk or put a tin can in a glass recycling bin? Would he go straight to the electric chair?

Hey, it could be worse. The defendant could have been socked up to $4.5 million. Compared to that, the $675,000 fine is downright lenient.

Compared to everything else, however, it’s reeaaallly severe.

“I used the computer. I uploaded, I downloaded music ... I did it,” said student Joel Tenenbaum.

There it is, in his own words. The monster! Off with his head!

… In other news across the country, a bunch of murderers and rapists got probation.

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Heavy load

It’s a growing problem — literally.

That would be the increasingly common challenge for ambulance crews having to strain and sweat to move patients who weigh 400, 600 and even 800 pounds.

Holy hernia! Can you say “obesity epidemic”?

The latest report comes from Nebraska and Iowa. Let’s just say that cattle aren’t the only corn-fed behemoths on the Great Plains.

“Lloyd Rupp, a battalion chief in the Omaha Fire Department, said his crews encounter a 400-pound-plus patient every several days. Five to 10 years ago, crews would run into such patients every couple of weeks.”

The solution here seems obvious: Furniture movers need to be deputized as reserve firefighters.

Then when a call comes in for an, ahem, plus-sized patient, you send out a big ol’ truck, three or four big ol’ guys and maybe a forklift.

Hey, these dudes are already used to hauling massive beds and appliances! For them, a human being that size is just another job. Sure, if you drop this load, it says “Ouch!” but otherwise it’s the same game of man vs. mass.

To sweeten the pot, you could let the furniture company send along a salesman to make a quick pitch for a recliner or sofa to the patient’s relatives. After all, if you’re weighing in at a quarter-ton or so, you probably spend a lot of time watching Dr. Phil and shoveling in Cheetos.

In fact, if we could get the new “free” health care to pay for this innovative service, everyone comes out a winner.

Are you listening, Congress?

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Flew the coop

It is one way, I guess, of getting rid of your problem.

That would be the city of New York’s odd policy of offering free, one-way plane tickets to any homeless families that can find relatives who will take them in.

The goal, of course, is to remove said families from the city’s homeless shelter program. The air fare ain’t cheap, but it’s a bargain compared to the $36K it costs to shelter a homeless family for a year.

The city says 550 families have taken advantage of their little incentive. Some even went to other continents.

Not said is what happens if they return … or become homeless in their new hometown.

Or what happens if the new city gets ticked off at the surprise gift … and promptly gives the family a one-way plane ticket back to New York.

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Plush prison preferred

The rich are different from you and me.

For one thing, they don’t like being in prison cells with people like you and me.

Take Texas financier R. Allen Stanford for example. Please, take him.

Seems that Stanford, who was jailed on a little matter of a $7 billion (that’s billion with a B) Ponzi scheme, doesn’t like being locked up with a bunch of commoners.

His private prison in Conroe has no air conditioning, and he’s sharing digs with up to 10 other inmates. (That could be kind of embarrassing when Nature Calls.)

In fact, defense-attorney-to-the-rich-n-famous Dick DeGuerin said in court filings that the conditions were “intolerable.”

Didja hear that? Intolerable!

Stanford wants to be transferred to a swankier cell at the Federal Detention Center in downtown Houston, preferably in a wing with a nice wine list, concierge service and big-screen TVs.

OK, I made up that last part. But he does want out of the crowded hot-house in Conroe.

No telling how the judge will rule on this legal mind-bender. If there is any justice in our justice system, however, he will tell him not only no, but hell no, and just for that, I’m going to jam four more sweaty inmates into your cell.

That’ll teach him to be a thieving weasel. And if it doesn’t, at least it will be verrrry satisfying.

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Good knight

You can add jousting to the list of things that politicians shouldn’t do.

Granted, it’s a long list, but there’s always room for one more.

This point was proved recent by the mayor of Barre, Vermont, who “agreed in fun to a jousting match with padded sticks and helmets.”

Despite those OSHA-style precautions, he still ended up in an emergency room with some broken ribs.

Worse yet, the near-impaling was done by another local pol, the chairman of the town’s selectboard.

Personally, I think the heyday of jousting was the Middle Ages. Since then the sport has basically gone downhill.

I say let’s completely retire it, along with bear-baiting and pouring burning oil down on troops trying to scale castle walls.

OK, that last one is more of a military maneuver than a sport, but it’s still very Middle Ages. (Or so I've heard.)

The point is that if you want to stick it to a politician, vote ’im out of office. It’s permanent, and there’s no emergency room involved.

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A switch in time

If you want to have a sex-change operation, I think you should just go ahead and do it.

Don’t be like Richard Ramsey, who has decided to become Renee Ramsey … at the age of 77.

This is carrying procrastination too far. Renee said she felt like a woman in a man’s body since she was 13. That would be ’45, back when FDR was president.

She even served in the U.S. Army in Viet Nam as a Green Beret, and stayed in uniform for the 20-year pension.

Was married twice too. In fact, she waited for Wife No. 2 to die before becoming a woman herself. (Maybe she wanted to use those leftover dresses.)

Whatever. At least this should make those Army reunions a lot more interesting.

“Richard, is that you? You look … different!”

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Osama, eventually

A son of Osama bin Laden was reportedly killed a few months ago in a missile strike by the CIA in Pakistan.

This is unfortunate.

No, not that Saad bin Laden is no longer with us. The lad was a chip off the ol’ block — a member of al-Qaida who was working in the family business in Iran.

He journeyed into Pakistan, maybe for some R&R, when he got capped in a drone missile strike. Occupational hazard, I guess you’d call it.

No, my friends, the downside to this otherwise cheery bit of good news is that the bin Laden who bit the dust was not the old man.

... Oh, well, maybe next time.

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Mental/dental

So what is it with wacky dentists in Florida?

We've had two in two days. That, my friends, is a trend.

On Tuesday we learned about a dentist in Winter Park, Fla., who had an unfortunate habit of dropping tools down the throats of patients.

Then on Wednesday we read about a dentist in Naples, Fla., who set up shop in a converted garage with a drill set and recliner.

Good lord, are folks in Florida desperate for dentistry … or dense?

I can’t wait around to find out. I might have to read about more Floridians who made ghastly dental mistakes.

To forestall that possibility, here are some tips that all dental customers in Florida should keep in mind when shopping for a mouth man:

-- Is the office in a bad neighborhood with a sign on the door reading, “Cash register does not contain more than $50.”

-- Does the secretary ask you, “Will that be cash, check or barter?”

-- Is the dentist also practicing another trade, such as “Dentistry and Lawn Service”?

-- Does the dentist’s diploma on the wall contain the words “not accredited”?

-- Is there a sign in the waiting room that says, “Anesthesia is for sissies”?

If you run into any of these, do a Michael Jackson and "beat it."

And if your tooth is really hurting, tie a string around it and attach the other end to a doorknob.

… Hey, it worked for grandpa.

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Hey, who’s perfect?

People seem awfully touchy these days. You make one little boo-boo and everybody is all over you.

Like the two unfortunate souls described below.

A dentist in Florida is being sued for — brace yourselves — dropping tools down the throat of an elderly patient. Twice!

More specifically, the lawsuit filed by the late victim’s relatives said Dr. Wesley “Butterfingers” Meyers lost his grip on an “implant screwdriver tool” in 2006 and a “mini-wrench” in 2007.

The late victim, 90-year-old Charles Gaal Jr., reportedly died after never fully recovering from surgeries to retrieve the hardware.

Not good. ... By the way, if you’re 90, should you still be referred to as “Jr.”? Just wonderin’.

A little closer to home, a Houston-area woman, Sarah Hanel, is in stable condition after an unfortunate accident in her residence.

It seems that her husband, Justin “Deadeye” Hanel, was sleeping soundly last night when he awoke to find an intruder in his home.

So he did what any red-blooded American would do in such a predicament — he squeezed off a few rounds from a handy pistol!

All’s well that ends well? Not exactly. Turns out the “intruder” was Mrs. Hanel.

Wow. Talk about “egg on my face.”

… Does Hallmark make a card for these awkward situations? I didn’t think so.

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Oh, no, not Paula Abdul!

As if things aren’t bad enough — the war on terror, the recession, the designated hitter rule — now we have this hanging over our heads:

Paula Abdul may leave American Idol!

I am not kidding. In fact, you couldn't kid about something like that. It’s unkidable.

The problem, as usual in Tinsletown, is money. Paula wants about $20 million to return, and those skinflint producers might not cough it up.

Paula is also ticked off that Ryan Seacrest got something like $45 million over 3 years to keep doing whatever it is he does. That is a lot of money, but then again, he is the master at whatever he does.

All we can do is hope and pray that this nightmare will be averted and Paula will return to Idol.

Without her, the show just wouldn’t be the same.

Where else could we get our hilarious fix of loopy comments, mangled logic and chemical-induced mood swings? Who would Simon focus his disgust on without good ol’ dependable Paula? What would happen if a male contestant who got rejected needed a shoulder to cry on … or a bed to sleep in?

Please, Paula. Swallow your pride, take $5 million or so and come back. America needs you.

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Life for shoplifting? Hell yes!

Please don’t shed any crocodile tears over Brian Balentine, even though he just got sentenced to life in prison for shoplifting five CDs from a Wal-Mart in Conroe.

The dirtbag deserved it.

This wasn’t his first rodeo. He was paroled in 2006 after serving time for killing a Good Samaritan in 1984 who stopped to help him when he appeared to be having car trouble.

That was the state’s first mistake. He should have died in prison of old age.

But we’re a forgiving lot, so we let him out. Unfortunately, Brian proceeded to revert to a life of crime. He broke the law at least three more times before the shoplifting incident.

All were thefts of one kind or another. In the last one, a police officer was slightly injured trying to stop him. It occurred just days after he completed a 30-day jail term in Harris County.

Clearly, ol’ Brian was not going to get on the straight and narrow. He was going to keep breaking the law as long as we let him.

Remember this the next time some serial loser gets put away for a relatively minor offense. After a while, career criminals need to go inside one more time … and stay there.

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Meth mess

Somebody better tell NASCAR driver Jeremy Mayfield that old Chinese saying, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m a real dumbass.”

OK, I might not have that quote exactly right, but you get the point.

Mayfield, of course, got in hot water recently for being suspended by NASCAR for a positive drug test. (Meth, in this case.) And of course he took it like a man.

Just kidding. He did what any jock does these days when faced with a similar challenge: Find a judge to overturn the suspension.

Which he did, and he was back in NASCAR’s good graces, sort of.

But then an inconvenient truth knocked ol’ Jeremy back in the pot. He failed a second drug test.

Can it get more interesting? Hell yes! His stepmother says she saw him doing meth at least 30 times in recent years!!!

Now, you might think that Methfield — I mean, Mayfield — would back down and hang it up. Wrong again.

His response is to claim that this is all a giant conspiracy against him and he’s really as pure as an unopened can of 10W40 motor oil.

His lawyer even said, “NASCAR is absolutely corrupted by power. …”

Which it may be. But it’s reeaall hard to believe that for some reason the big shots have decided to frame poor Jeremy … again and again.

I’m guessing he’ll never race again, nor should he. He needs to cash on his fading fame quickly and write a tell-all book tearfully confessing his addiction to the white powder.

Otherwise, you’ll never again hear the name Jeremy Methfield. Dammit, I mean Mayfield.

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Grand-mommie dearest

Move over, Octomom. The title of “World’s Most Irresponsible Mother” has shifted to Maria del Carmen Bousada, a Spanish woman.

Actually, make that the late Maria del Carmen Bousada. She passed away the other day at the age of 69, a common fate for people approaching their seventh decade.

But what made Maria memorable was her bizarre decision, at age 66, to get in vitro fertilization treatment, which resulted in the birth of twins.

(By the way, Maria did the deed at a clinic in Los Angeles. Didn’t nutty Octomom get her womb loaded up at a clinic in Los Angeles? Hmmm.)

So now her two 3-year-olds are left motherless, and someone else will have to raise them.

If this had happened in the normal course of events, it would be a tough break but no one would be at fault.

But of course this occurred only because an irresponsible old woman made a stupid choice, and a we-don’t-ask-a-lot-of-questions clinic happily fertilized her as soon as the check cleared.

Remember this the next time some hag gets her 15 minutes of fame for becoming a mother in her 50s or 60s with the help of a we-don’t-ask-a-lot-of-questions clinic.

It ain’t right. It’s selfish and short-sighted. Grand-mommie’s chances of being alive — and more importantly, active — for at least the next 18 years are not real high.

Clinics ought to have reasonable guidelines. At least other people can stop cheering on these clowns and gushing over the "miracle" of another weird birth.

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Bullet brain, behind bars

Joshua Bush is finally where he belongs — in a state prison, for five years.

Bush, aka Bullet Brain, gained 15 minutes of fame for gaming the system in a spectacular way. It was funny, in a way, but more than anything, it was sad.

As most area folks know by now, Bullet Brain was accused of being involved in a burglary at a Port Arthur car lot in 2006. The prime evidence against him was believed to be a slug residing in his forehead after being placed there by the car lot manager's pistol.

But Bullet Brain refused to get the lead out for evidence, and prosecutors bungled a couple of attempts to remove it against his will. So he beat that charge, one of several on his rap sheet.

Eventually, and not too surprisingly, he had another run-in with the law. His latest misadventure — being a felon in possession of a firearm — got him the five-year stint.

Now that Bullet Brain has some time to think things over, he’s got a doozy to decide:

Does he get the round removed — and risk providing Exhibit A to the D.A.?

Or does he remain content with setting off metal detectors for the rest of his life … and risking unpleasant complications from lead poisoning?

Decisions, decisions. He’s going to have to put his thinking cap on for this one — if he can get it over that little bump in his forehead, that is.

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Go, Nats!

Something tells me this is finally gonna be the year the National League wins the All Star Game. I mean, they can’t keep getting humiliated year after year, can they?

OK, they can. And they probably will. But still, I got a feeling about this one.

Many unusual things have been happening lately. A black man was elected president. Jay Leno left the Tonight Show. Brett Favr has retired and unretired. (More than once.)

Clearly, we live in strange times. A National League win would fit right in.

And President Obama himself will be right there, in the broadcast booth, for a few innings. If that doesn’t say Upset City, I don’t know what does.

The Nationals need this one badly. Just like they have every year since 1996.

Thank God the Nats still have the overall edge, 40-37-2. But if they don’t put some pepper in their shorts, in four years that will be history too.

The last time the Big Game was in St. Loo — 1966 — the Nationals won. History is due to repeat itself.

You read it here first, when the final out is made, the score will be: National League 7, American League 4.

Ahhh, yes, I can almost taste it. Soon our long National (League) nightmare will be over.

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Business Ethics, 101

Everybody is jumping all over that Aggie student who broke into an office to try to change his test answers.

Of course it was wrong, but will everyone please remember that he was taking management courses?

This schlep is just reflecting the values of Ken Lay, Jeffrey Skilling, Bernard Ebbers, Conrad Black, Michael Milken, Donald Trump, Bernie Madoff and many other tycoons who wear power ties, have trophy wives and enjoy weekends at Gstaad.

They didn’t amass their fortunes by playing fair. They bent the rules when they had to and then broke them if that wasn’t enough. Most of them got caught, many others haven’t been nailed yet.

This dumb Aggie reads about guys like that all the time and thinks to himself, “I’m going to be just like them — minus the part about getting arrested and doing the perp walk.”

No telling how much time the former student will get behind bars for his aborted caper.

If they put him in one of those minimum-security joints with a bunch of white collar criminals, he’s going to think he made a good career move after all.

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Johnny, we hardly knew ye

Some people think that Nevada Sen. John Ensign is a no-good slug for preaching family values while having an affair with the wife of his good friend and Senate aide.

Not me. I think this guy should be nominated for Humanitarian of the Year.

Why? Hell, because he made sure his parents paid nearly $100,000 to the gal he was fooling around with — yes, the same gal who was accused of trying to extort money from him.

I know what you’re thinking: The cash that his parents forked over was hush money pure and simple.

How can you say that about poor Johnny? He clearly stated that the 100K payoff was made “out of concern for the well being of longtime family friends during a difficult time.”

And he ought to know — ’cause he caused the difficult time in her life by luring her into an affair while she was married too!

Ensign’s lawyer even said, “The gifts are consistent with a pattern of generosity by the Ensign family to the Hamptons and others. The payments were made as gifts, accepted as gifts and complied with tax rules governing gifts.”

You see what I mean! This guy’s a humanitarian’s humanitarian! He probably tossed a quarter to some bum on a streetcorner once too.

I just hope this puts to rest all that nasty talk about the moral values of the senator. He goes into public service to help his state, and this is the thanks he gets.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets so fed up with all the carping from his whiny constituents that he goes out and hikes the Appalachian Trail.

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Finger-lickin’ good?

Further evidence that this darned recession is serious:

Folks are starting to raise chickens in their backyards to save a few bucks.

That’s right, barbecue breath. According to the all-seeing, all-knowing AP, “A growing number of suburbanites (near Dallas) are buying and raising hens prompted by a slumping economy and the promise of fresh eggs. One Dallas farmer said he had sold more than 2,000 hens this year.”

This does not sound like a good idea to this city boy.

Sure, the upside is farm-fresh eggs (OK, maybe backyard-fresh eggs) and an unlimited supply of drumsticks and hot wings.

But what about the downside?

Chicken coops and chicken feed, for starters — that’s gotta cost a few bucks. And what about the stuff that comes out of the south end of a chicken facing north? Yuck!

Don’t chickens attract coyotes … and health inspectors? How soon until being awakened at 05:45 by a crowing rooster ceases to be charming?

Frankly, it sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. Let real farmers raise chickens — and put up with jokes about spending the egg money and breasts vs. thighs and why did the chicken cross the road.

If you wanna enjoy chicken, do it the way God intended: Buy a bucket from the Colonel or Church’s or at least the deli at your friendly neighborhood grocery.

Your neighbors will appreciate it even if you don’t.

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Clarification needed

One hates to be snippy about details at a time like this, but it’s hard to believe Al Sharpton’s comment to Michael Jackson’s kids at Tuesday’s memorial service for the King of Pop:

“Wasn’t nothing strange about your daddy.”

Jeez, Al, wasn’t that a teensy bit over the top?

How about, “Not everything about him was strange.”

Or, “Sometimes he did normal things.”

Or even, “He was extremely weird but had many nice points too.”

Just a thought.

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If you can’t stand the heat …

… Stay out of the prison.

’Cause in Texas, prisons aren’t air-conditioned.

Our front-page story Monday highlighted this annual problem.

If you were tempted to fell sorry for the inmates, don’t. A prison cell is not supposed to be a suite at the Hilton. Or even an upstairs room at a Motel 6.

If the steamy summers motivate more inmates to stay out once they get out, that’s a good thing.

If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for the folks who work at prisons. They have a tough job to begin with. From May to September, it’s even tougher.

Actually, you can feel sorry for yourself — if you pay taxes.

I predict it’s only a matter of time until some judge somewhere says the lack of air-conditioning in state prisons is cruel and unusual punishment.

And then you get to foot the bill for the retrofitting of many large prison buildings.

It will be a large bill, too. It may be so large that you have to turn off your air-conditioning every now and then to pay for it.

Now wouldn’t that be ironic?

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