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.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The fun continues
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.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Suing the I-man
If Kia Vaughn is as concerned about her reputation as she claims, she will drop her silly lawsuit against Don Imus.
Vaughn is a member of the Rutgers University women’s basketball team, the group notoriously maligned by Imus as “nappy headed ho’s.”
That was of course, a stupid and nasty comment. Imus was properly fired for that slur — though like Marv Albert and many other “disgraced” broadcasters, his time on the bench was not long. Already the “I-man” is plotting his comeback.
(Does the “I” stand for “idiot” there? It should.)
Anyhow, Vaughn has filed a defamation of character lawsuit against Imus. Says Imus and his buddies damaged her reputation.
As her lawyer put it, "This is about Kia Vaughn’s good name. She would do anything to return to her life as a student and respected basketball player — a more simple life before Imus opened his mouth."
Now I’m not an attorney, but I see a few problems here about the size of Mount Everest:
Namely, who on this planet thinks less of Vaughn because of what some moronic shock-jock said?
For that matter, who outside of her family and friends knew she was one of the gals insulted by Imus?
And why have no other Rutgers players filed similar lawsuits?
If Vaughn wants to show that clown and the rest of the world that she is the classy lady she claims to be, she will forget Imus and go on to lead a terrific life.
In trying to squeeze some money out of a deep pocket on flimsy grounds, Vaughn is harming her reputation more than Imus could.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Vick is sacked -- for good
The game is over for Michael Vick, and I ain’t talking about football.
Vick’s two remaining co-defendants have scheduled hearings this week to enter plea agreements.
In plain English, that means that these two, uh, gentlemen also have blindsided the Falcons QB.
They are about to plead guilty and start singing like canaries. The other co-defendant copped a plea before the ink was dry on the indictment.
This leaves little ol’ No. 7 standing out there all by himself, still pretending that the charges about an interstate dog fighting ring are a big misunderstanding.
Unless you believe in the Tooth Fairy, or think that Barry Bonds didn’t take steroids, you have to know what this means.
Michael Vick is going to prison.
His chances of beating this rap have just gone from slim to almost none.
Even if he keeps fighting -- and spending money on lawyers -- he will go to trial with ALL THREE of his co-defendants taking the stand to say, yes, everything the prosecutor says is true.
Unless Vick can get a jury made up of his relatives or teammates, he’s done.
In fact, he is so done that his only recourse is to plead guilty too.
If he’s lucky, he’ll get a year or 18 months. And he might play football again in the NFL.
If he wants to roll the dice and hope for acquittal, he’s dreaming.
He faces up to six years right now — and this is the federal system, with no parole. Oh, did I mention that state charges could follow?
It’s time to punt, Michael.
Look on the bright side: You have just made yourself a lot more marketable for the third version of that prison-football flick “The Longest Yard.”
Friday, August 10, 2007
Nagin strikes again
To: New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin
From: Me
Re: That sensitivity thing
Your honor, I think we have a slight problem — again.
Yesterday you were quoted as saying that the city’s continuing problems with crime and murders were “not good for us, but it also keeps the New Orleans brand out there. … ”
Then, apparently channeling the spirit of the Charles Bronson character in “Death Wish,” you said about some of the murder victims, “Some of these guys are so violent that it is hard for witnesses to come forward. … So it is unfortunate that they had to die, but it did kind of end the cycle that we were struggling with.”
Uh, Mr. Mayor — may I call you Ray? — I’m not sure you’re aiding the rebirth of the Crescent City as much as you could.
In fact, by my rough tally, you’re hurtin’ about as much as you are helpin’.
And seeing as you will be in office until 2010 — Lord, that seems like a long time away — you might want to try a different strategy.
Like shutting up. And doing something constructive for a change.
Just a thought.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Thank God for small favors, No. 3,748
A judge in Los Angeles has issued a temporary restraining order to prevent a Texas doctor from selling a 1994 videotape that shows the breast enlargement surgery of Anna Nicole Smith.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Packing it in
Adam “Pacman” Jones has found something to do while he is suspended from the NFL.
As you may recall, the talented but troubled cornerback for the Tennessee Titans has been arrested five times and been involved in 11 police investigations since he was drafted in April 2005.
That is a record for any NFL player who isn’t a Cincinnati Bengal. The latest incident, and it is hard to keep track of them, involves felony charges following a shooting at a Las Vegas strip club that left a bouncer paralyzed.
Anyhow, back to Pacman’s latest passion. He wants to become a professional wrestler, with Total Nonstop Action.
Reluctant as we all are to questions a guy’s career choice, this one seems shaky.
Pro wrestlers are big, beefy guys who slam each other around the ring. Sometimes out of it.
Pacman is listed at 5’10” and 187 pounds. That’s not small by average standards. By wrestling standards, it is.
If you’re a football player who needs to stay healthy, pro wrestling seems like a good way to become a former football player.
If Pacman goes ahead and climbs into the ring with these hulks, he is going to need a new nickname. Some thoughts:
1) Squished-Flat Man.
2) Smacked Man.
3) Piñata Man.
4) What Were You Thinking, Man?
5) The Guy Who Used To Be An NFL Cornerback But Blew It Because He Is Incredibly Stupid and Self-Destructive.
Friday, August 03, 2007
17 is enough; actually, it's too much
A big family is one thing. A small town is another. I think Jim Bob and Michelle Duggars in Arkansas should retire from the baby business.
You see, they just had their 17th child.
Mom said, “We’d love to have more. We love the ruffles and lace.” Why not? the couple has “only” seven girls as compared to 10 boys. They range in age from 19 to 2, not counting the newest infant.
“We are just so grateful to God for another gift from Him,” said Daddy Duggar. That’s nice, Jim Bob. Why don’t you start counting (and enjoying) those blessings — and stop creating more of them?
By the way, don’t you just love that name, Jim Bob? And the name of the little burg they live in, Tontitown?
Their Web site proudly quotes Psalm 127:3, “Children are a heritage of the Lord.”
They are indeed, Jim Bob. You’ve had your share, and then some.
There are some warning signs to let you know when you have too many children. I think No. 17 is, “You are your own zip code.”
Thursday, August 02, 2007
7 on 7
Michael Vick is still maintaining his innocence regarding the dogfighting charges filed against him in federal court.
No problem. One of the great things about our country is that a defendant is presumed innocent until a judge or jury says otherwise.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, one of Vick’s three co-defendants has taken a different approach to the charges hanging over him.
He has pleaded guilty and agreed to cooperate with prosecutors.
This development in the case makes seven things more likely for No. 7:
1) His chances of going to prison have increased about seven-fold.
2) The odds against him playing again in the NFL have jumped to 7-1.
3) Seven doesn’t seem like a lucky number anymore.
4) If another co-defendant also flips for prosecutors, his chances of going to prison will increase about seventy-fold.
5) His legal bills are likely to end up in seven figures.
6) The number of people with IQs larger than their shoe size who sincerely believe this whole thing is a giant mix-up has dwindled to seven.
7) Instead of being known as No. 7, he is more likely to be known as No. 73186.
Good luck, Michael. You are going to need it.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Tom Snyder
I don’t watch much TV these days unless it involves a bunch of overpaid men and a football or baseball. But long ago, I watched a ton of Tom Snyder.
Not many people will admit that. First, it shows how old you are. Second, Snyder was thought of as kind of a goofball.
Not funny goofball like David Letterman or Stephen Colbert. More like a goofball who doesn’t get it.
And he didn’t, to some extent. But that was part of his appeal.
Still, for its time, “The Tomorrow Show” could be entertaining. It was one of the first talk shows that appealed to night owls. His guests ranged from rock stars to politicians — and weren’t the kind of usual suspects you see on a lot of shows today.
And of course there was Tom. He smoked. He had a big hunk of hair combed sideways. He waved his long fingers in front of his face. He said stuff to guys off-camera. He had that booming laugh and verbal tics that identified him like his fingerprints.
As such, he was easy for comics like Dan Aykroyd to mimic, But then, so was the great Johnny Carson.
“The Tomorrow Show” lasted for nine years, from ’73 to ’82. That’s actually a long time in TV terms.
In the late ’90s, he came back for three years with “The Late Late Show.” It was OK, but it didn’t have the magic of “The Tomorrow Show” in its heyday.
Snyder’s death this week unleashed a surprising flood of nostalgia. But the more you think about him and his show, he deserved better.
He was fun and funny. If he was angry or emotional, he didn’t try to hide it. He was more of an average guy than a star, and that was endearing.
He was the kind of host who made his guests comfortable and let them talk. And that is the goal of a talk show, to let folks like us listen to an author or an astronaut as if we were in a living room with him.
Sleep well, Tom. You sent a lot of people to snoozeland after your shows. Now it’s your turn.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Name game
As expected, Bernard Hopkins outpointed Ronald Wright in their light-heavyweight bout last weekend in Las Vegas. Even though Hopkins was 42 and — like most older fighters — had come out of retirement, he had Wright on the defensive the whole 10 rounds.
I wasn’t surprised. You see, Wright’s nickname is “Winky.” A boxer with a nickname like that is never going to go far. Especially against a pugilist nicknamed "The Executioner."
In fact, that’s a problem these days — lousy nicknames for boxers. Need I mention Eric “Butterbean” Esch. What’s he supposed to do, smother you in gravy?
Back in the day, it wasn’t like this. Fighters had fearsome names, and you thought twice about climbing into the ring with them.
I’m talking Larry “The Easton Assassin” Holmes, James “Bonecrusher” Smith and John "The Beast” Mugabi.
Then there’s the greatest boxing nickname of all time, Carl “The Truth” Williams.
I just hope Osama bin Laden isn’t sitting in a cave somewhere in north Pakistan thumbing through the sports pages and saying, “Look, Abdul, the Americans have a fighter named ‘Jerry “Wimpy” Halstead.’ Let’s launch another attack on these weakling infidels.”
Just once, I like to see Osama get leveled by Mitch “Blood” Green. Then he’d know we weren’t a country to be trifled with.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Good commish, bad commish
You can call this the tale of the two sports commissioners. One made a good call, one dropped the ball.
Commissioner A, otherwise known the NFL’s Roger Goodell, has reacted well since the words “Michael Vick” and “dogfighting” started appearing in the same sentence.
On Monday Goodell told Vick to stay away from the Atlanta Falcons’ training camp, at least for the time being. Goodell correctly noted that while the judicial system will judge Vick’s guilt or innocence, the NFL has different standards.
Goodell wants to determine if Vick’s conduct, even if it wasn’t criminal, violated the league’s personal conduct policies. Vick will keep drawing his salary, which is fair too.
Right on, Roger. I think Vick should be allowed to play this season — unless he pleads out, which might become more likely as this case approaches trial. If Vick is guilty, he needs to face up to that reality and cut the best deal he can get to resume his career and life ASAP.
For now, however, a little sit-down from the NFL is in order. Goodell’s action also prevents the Falcons from suspending Vick for four games, which was the team’s intentions. That would be rash, given that Vick hasn’t even been arraigned yet. (That happens Thursday.)
Goodell’s counterpart in Major League Baseball hasn’t been so smart this week.
Bud Selig surprised — and disappointed — a lot of people by announcing that he will tag along until Barry Bonds breaks Henry Aaron’s home run record.
“Out of respect for the tradition of this game, the magnitude of the record, and the fact that all citizens in this country are innocent until proven guilty, I will attend Barry Bonds’ next games to observe his potential tying and breaking of the home run record, subject to my commitments to the Hall of Fame this weekend,” Selig said in a statement today.
Uh, Bud, if you really want to respect the tradition of the game, you’d tell BALCO Barry to buzz off. As commissioner, you don’t have to follow that innocent-until-proven-guilty line off a cliff. You still have discretion and common sense — or at least I thought you did.
If so, you would have released the following statement:
“Even though Barry Bonds has not been convicted of using performance-enhancing drugs, there is a mountain of circumstantial and anecdotal evidence that indicates he did. It is impossible to ignore this evidence and pretend that this is just another record-breaking event. As long as this suspicion hangs over Bonds, I will neither support him or criticize him in public — or appear in the same stadium with him.”
Hank Aaron is making sure that he will be elsewhere when No. 756 clears the wall. Selig should have sided with his old friend from the Milwaukee Braves days on this one.
Friday, July 20, 2007
You go, goddess
Normally, I’m a by-the-book guy. But every now and then, you have to cut somebody some slack. That’s why I’m applauding the Nepalese authorities who have agreed to review their decision to strip a 10-year-old girl of her title of “living goddess” by breaking tradition and traveling overseas.
As you’ve heard a thousand times by now, Sajani Shakya journeyed to the United States last month to promote a documentary about, well, the centuries-old tradition of Nepal’s living goddesses.
What the heck did you think she would promote, the benefits of throwing a curve ball in the dirt when you’re ahead in the count? For gosh sakes, she’s a living goddess in Nepal, and she’s only 10!
Anyhow, that’s a no-no in Nepal. If you’re a living goddess, you can’t leave the country — even though I personally would think that a living goddess could do anything she darned well pleased. Hey, what part of “living goddess” don’t you get?
Fortunately, cooler heads may prevail in the mile-high kingdom scrinched between India and China.
Jaiprasad Regmi, chief of the government trust that oversees the living goddesses, was quoted by the Associated Press as saying, “We are consulting with elders, priests and culture experts on whether it was appropriate for the living goddess to break tradition and leave on a trip.”
Right on, Mr. Regmi!
I’m sure that being a living goddess is fun and all that, but sometimes you want a break from the same old same old. And as you well know, being a living goddess is not a piece of cake.
Again I refer you to the Associated Press:
“Living goddesses are worshipped by both Hindus and Buddhists. The girls are selected between the ages of 2 and 4 after going through several tests.
“They are required to have perfect skin, hair, eyes and teeth, and should not be afraid of the dark. They wear red, pin up their hair in topknots and have a ‘third eye’ painted on their forehead.
“Devotees touch the girls’ feet with their foreheads, the highest sign of respect among Hindus in Nepal.”
I don’t know about you, but after being worshipped endlessly, I think I’d want a change of scenery.
Apparently, the head honchos in Nepal are thinking of restoring Sajani’s title because thousands of her followers were cheesed off. Who says you can’t fight City Hall anymore?
Why can't we just pretend the whole thing never happened?
Look, living goddesses have to relinquish their titles anyway when they reach puberty. It’s tough being told you’re over the hill when you’re 12.
Let’s not give the girl any more grief.
… Now if you want to pass around a petition asking Queen Elizabeth to step down, count me in.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Mike's mess
To: Michael Vick
From: Me
Subject: That unfortunate federal indictment for dogfighting that just landed on you like a 300-pound lineman who slipped a block.
Message: Mike, you’d better hope that this is one biiiggg misunderstanding. If it’s not, you have just done one of the dumbest things by a professional athlete since Ricky Williams walked away from the Dolphins.
On paper, you’re innocent until proven guilty and all that, but I gotta tell you, this one looks bad.
I read the recent Sports Illustrated cover story on the dogfighting operation in Virginia that you just happened to own. Then I read the news stories on the indictment handed down to you and three other guys. If I were you, I think I’d have trouble drifting off to sleep at night.
The indictment goes into great deal about the alleged dogfighting scheme — how you supposedly bought the property in 2001, set up a kennel for pit bulls and then went about acquiring all the odds and ends needed to train fighting dogs and prepare the property for nighttime events.
The indictment even lists the names of some of your dogs — “Seal,” “Maniac” and “Zebro.” (I guess a fella wouldn’t name a crazed fighting beast something like “Rover” or “Spot.”)
With all that detail, it sounds to me like somebody on the inside rolled over and is about to testify against you, but maybe I’ve been watching too many episodes of “Law and Order.” (By the way, whatever happened to that Fred Thompson guy who used to play the D.A. on that show?)
The Web site for two of your companies, Mike Vick K-9 Kennels and MV7 Inc. (your initials and jersey number) described the dogs as “family pets.”
“We do not promote, support or raise dogs for fighting, “ the Web site said before being mysteriously taken down, “and will not knowingly sell, give or trade any dog that may be used for fighting.”
Let’s hope so, Mike. Meanwhile, I have five words of advice for you:
Get a good defense lawyer.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Paper chase
One of the many important functions of this blog (insert your own joke here) is to point out that some things are not a good idea even though lots of really smart people are telling you it is a good idea.
Exhibit A this time would be an automatic toilet-paper dispenser.
According to the Associated Press, “A year in the works, the electronic tissue dispenser is being rolled out to the masses by Kimberly-Clark Professional as it seeks to capture more of the $1 billion away-from-home toilet paper market. The company believes most people will be satisfied with five sheets — and use 20 percent less toilet paper.”
Several thoughts immediately come to mind:
1) What on earth is the “away-from-home toilet paper market”?
2) Why does Kimberly-Clark believe that “most people will be satisfied with five sheets”? On second thought, I don’t want to know.
3) And, from a factoid later in the article, why do “Americans typically use twice as much toilet paper as Europeans”?
I don’t know about you, but I am not flushed with excitement over this news.
It is slightly encouraging to know that this fancy electronic toilet paper dispenser has some fallbacks.
It has an emergency feed button. It also has a manual feed roller. Some models will even have a “rescue roll” on one side of the machine.
That, I believe, is the way God intended us to use toilet paper. Simple, non-electronic and effective.
The prospect of being trapped in a toilet stall and frantically waving your hands under the motion sensor trying to get a few lousy sheets of paper is not something I am looking forward to.
I’m sure that back in the good ol’ days, some codger grumbled that the upshift from corncobs to the Sears catalogue in the outhouse was an questionable interface for the new platform.
All I know is that if you combine Murphy’s Law with Montezuma’s Revenge, you are in what the first President Bush used to call deep doo-doo.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Bye-bye, Barry
Finally, it is over — and I’ve never said that before about a baseball all-star game, even when the contests weren’t that riveting. (And they usually aren’t.)
This year’s was tough to take because it turned into a Barryfest. First the jerk makes the starting lineup with a last-minute surge of votes. Huh? The guy is booed like Osama bin Laden in every visiting park he plays. The Bay area must be more populous than I thought.
And of course it was in San Fran, and Barry totally piggybacked on the location this year. If you’re talkin’ baseball in San Francisco, it was Willie Mays back then and Balco Barry now. He gets to slide into the spotlight and act like he belongs there.
If the all-star game had been in Cincinnati or Seattle, all that nonsense about Barry being worshipped as “the game’s greatest hitter” would have been squelched. Instead, fans would be talking about what they should be talking about:
Will he be indicted for perjury and/or tax evasion. … Will Bud Selig summon up the gumption to be somewhere else when No. 756 is hit? … Wouldn’t you love to see him drilled in the ribs by a fastball just on general principles?
Whatever. It’s over, and thank God he didn’t hit one into McCovey Cove. He went 0-2. The only thing that would have been better was if he had made an error or struck out swinging wildly.
But I won’t be greedy. It’s enough that he wasn’t the “hero” of this game. It’s done, and now he is headed to another third-place finish on a team that can’t win precisely because it has this highly paid slugger who drives off other talent (like Jeff Kent) with his ego and his insults.
On the other hand, it’s back to the dreaded countdown to 756. Wake me when it’s over. Meanwhile, I’m cheering for the grand jury in San Francisco.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
No guts, no glory
Like Joltin’ Joe’s 56-game hitting streak, you knew it had to come to an end eventually.
In the pit of your stomach, you knew that Takeru Kobayashi would choke — literally or figuratively. For six long years, he had outeaten anyone or anything at the annual Fourth of July Nathan’s hot dog competition on Coney Island.
Finally, he met his master. Joey Chestnut, an up-and-coming challenger on the professional eating circuit, downed 66 dogs ’n’ buns in 12 minutes. It wasn’t pretty — really, it wasn’t — but it was efficient.
Poor Kobayashi set a personal record of 63 — 9½ over his previous max — but it was three dogs shy of a championship load. He actually put away a few more, but he had what is tactfully referred to as a “reversal.” That unfortunate upchuck ratcheted his final total back to a mere 63.
But, oh the humanity … and the heartburn. The carnivorous competitors were actually tied with 60 dogs with one minute to go. Yet true champions emerge in the fourth quarter or the ninth inning, and Chestnut was determined to prove that he deserved a table in the Food Hall of Fame.
He just kept funneling franks into his gigantic gullet, and soon Kobayashi was kaput.
This year, it would be the 23-year-old Californian who proudly strapped on the mustard yellow belt that is the Stanley Cup of chowhounds.
If that spectacle didn’t bring a tear to your eye (or a rumble to your tummy) you’re made of sterner stuff than me. It was a food fight for the ages, a gut-check moment that will never be forgotten.
… Until next year, when the rematch is set, and it’s time to either belly up to the bar or let the butterflies in your stomach take over.
Does Chesnut — and his mid-section — have what it takes? Has Kobayashi cratered, or will he gobble more glory?
We’ll all know in 365 days. Until then, I’ll take mustard on mine, not catsup. And one is OK. I can put away 60 of ’em too … but it will take me a couple of months.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Freedom, here and there
On our country’s 231st Fourth of July, as we celebrate liberty, a shout-out of praise goes to … Fumio Kyuma.
Kyuma is, or was, of all things, the Japanese defense minister. He still would be if he had not said last week that the U.S. atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II were … gulp … inevitable.
This is, of course, the truth. And it is even more true that the bombings were, ironically, the most humane way to end the war in the Pacific.
If the United States had been forced to mount a conventional D-Day style invasion of Japan, the number of Japanese (and Americans) casualties would have been much, much higher.
No serious military historian — or anyone with common sense — will dispute this.
That point of view isn’t popular in Japan, however, and that’s understandable. Their country is the only one on earth to have suffered an atomic bombing — twice. Even if it was the least-bad alternative, it is going to be a sore subject.
To make matters worse — from a Japanese perspective — Kyuma was a native of … Nagasaki.
Still, it’s about time that more government officials in Japan — like their counterparts in Germany — acknowledged the evil done by their country in World War II.
Many in Japan are still trying to deny the horrible saga of the “comfort women,” the 200,000 women (and girls) forced into military brothels.
Others are trying to say that the “Rape of Nanking” in 1937 wasn’t so ghastly — that only 30,000 innocent people were slaughtered, not 10 times that number. … Yeah, I’m sure that makes the survivors feel a lot better.
After the latest flap, Nagasaki Mayor Tomihisa Taue dredged up the old myth that the atomic bombings were the “indiscriminate massacre of ordinary citizens.” Two words, pal: Pearl Harbor.
The end of World War II was the best thing to happen to modern Japan. It got rid of a wicked dictatorship that brought massive death and destruction to the homeland. It allowed Japan to become one of the world’s most advanced societies.
We celebrate the birth of our freedom on July 4. Over the years, we’ve brought liberty to a bunch of other nations, from Korea to Kuwait. Japan is on the list, too — in large part because of what happened to Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August of 1945.
Happy Fourth of July to freedom lovers in this land and across the globe!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Craig, yes. Barry, no.
Thank God for Craig Biggio. And Frank Thomas. And Tom Glavine. And Pedro Martinez.
Each one of these baseball players either reached a major milestone this year or will soon.
For Biggio, it was hit No. 3,000.
For The Big Hurt (I always wondered how he got that nickname, though it fits him) it was home run No. 500. (Hammered, ironically, the same day Biggio broke his barrier.)
Glavine is three wins shy of 300. (He probably will be the last Major Leaguer to reach that plateau now that pitchers start every fifth day instead of every fourth.)
Pedro needs two K’s to get 3,000 strikeouts. (I wish he’d stayed with the Red Sox. But it’s hard to be satisfied with big bucks when you can get bigger bucks.)
So why am I thankful for these guys?
It’s simple: In a small way, they take the sting out of the coming nightmare — Barry Bonds’ 756th home run.
Barry is everything that pro sports — heck, life in general — doesn’t need.
He is surly and crude. He is filthy rich and tries to portray himself as a victim. And of course he is a steroid-swallowin’ juice-shootin’ cheater.
Worst of all, he will go down in history as the greatest home run hitter ever.
That stinks.
At least this year saw other milestones in baseball — by good guys like the ones mentioned above.
They are four different ballplayers. Yet each is the anti-Barry, and I’m grateful they got a share of the spotlight this year.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Border control, Florida-style
The sheriff in Bay County, Fla., has found a simple but effective way to capture illegal aliens.
Five or six patrol cars quickly pull up to a construction site … and wait.
Invariably, several illegal aliens run away. The deputies then chase down the runners, arresting them if they do things like trespass or drive away recklessly. Aliens who are in this country illegally are then referred to immigration authorities.
“It’s not wrong for them to run, but it’s not wrong for us to chase them either,” said Sheriff Frank McKeithen.
In Florida, as in most places, it is illegal to knowingly hire illegal immigrants. In Florida, as in most places, illegal immigrants are often knowingly hired.
Sheriff McKeithen’s Panhandle county is undergoing a building boom. Developers are tearing down cheap spring-break motels and replacing them with fancy condos.
Lots of illegals are doing the work. Or were doing the work.
One illegal immigrant, Jose Madrid, told the Associated Press, “We immigrants, we are leaving Panama City. … The companies don’t want to hire illegal people. Now they’re only hiring those with papers.”
Uh, isn’t that the idea?
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Occupational hazard
I really don’t have Charles Bronson/Death Wish fantasies about capping bad guys.
Bad guys shouldn’t be executed for "routine crimes" like stealing cars. They should go to prison for a bunch of years and learn a trade and straighten up.
If they kill someone, however, in your basic first-degree-premeditated manner, they should indeed take the Big Sleep — and not 15 years later.
Which brings us to the brief we had on page 7A today about a Port Arthur stickup -- make that attempted stickup. The lead graph says it all: “A robbery suspect was in critical condition … after a convenience store employee shot the man numerous times. … ”
Folks, the part about “shot the man numerous times” got my attention.
I would hate to be a convenience store clerk. I think your odds of getting robbed and/or killed during that robbery are uncomfortably high.
It ought to be the other way around. Punks who go around robbing people should fear for their health.
To be blunt about it, if more of them were “shot numerous times” while trying to pull armed robberies, we’d probably wouldn't have so many armed robberies.
Again, I’m no Charles Bronson-wannabe. I don’t want that robbery suspect to die. I want him to recover, serve a bunch of years (if convicted, of course), repent, live a long and joyous life, and tell lots of people that robbing convenience stores is not a good thing to do.
Because you might get “shot numerous times.”
Thursday, June 21, 2007
2DUM4WORDS
Pat and Sheena Wheaton should move from New Zealand to the United States. Then these morons could name their soon-to-be-born son “4real.” In this country, where freedom of expression expands every year, I’m pretty sure you can name your kid anything.
Of course, sticking a label like “4real” on your child would be incredibly stupid and cruel, subjecting the lad to an endless stream of taunts and questions, but that’s beside the point.
Airheads like Pat and Sheena Wheaton want to feel good about themselves, enjoy the moment, blaze new trails, blah-blah-blah, so nothing else matters — certainly not something as trivial as the dignity of a vulnerable child.
New Zealand authorities have nixed “4real,” saying that numerals cannot be part of a name. Maybe the fun couple will propose something else like “Forreal,” but I don’t think they’re that clever.
By the way, the Wheatons want to stick that tag on their boy after they had an ultrasound and were dumbfounded (literally) by the, like, totally cool and awesome thing that was about to, like, happen.
Sheeesh. I feel sorry for the kid already. Since the Wheatons are feeling so creative, they should change their first names too.
How about something catchy that rhymes, like “Brain Dead” and “Bone Head”?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Kobe's crisis
Poor Kobe Bryant. He keeps throwing temper tantrums and acting like a world-class jerk, but the Los Angeles Lakers refuse to trade him.
If the Lakers won’t set him free, he will have to stay in that lousy town with that lousy team for four more years. In exchange for all that misery, all he gets is $88.6 million.
Is there no justice?
Seems that Kobe is chapped that the Lakers don’t surround him with top-notch talent so he — I mean, the team — can win a world championship.
Apparently the Kobatollah has forgotten that he was matched up with none other than the great Shaquille O’Neal for several years in L.A., and the Lakers did quite well.
But Kobe’s giant ego couldn’t stand anyone edging into his spotlight, so Shaq was shipped to South Florida.
Now Kobe wants another superstar sidekick — but a dull one so he can still be The Guy.
Poor Kobe. He pouts and postures, and coaches and owners keep stroking him and asking him to please, please play nice, but the drama drags on.
I think lots of ordinary fans, who make in a year or two what Kobe makes in a day, could tell Kobe where he should go.
But he probably wouldn’t like to hear their suggestion, and it would probably make him even more upset, so they probably shouldn’t do that.
Poor, poor Kobe.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Flight of fancy
I have no problem with capitalism or rich people. All things being equal, I wouldn’t mind being rich some day.
But there are limits, and some extremely wealthy person just reached them. He or she would be the still-anonymous tycoon who has ordered the mother of all private jets — an Airbus A380, the world’s largest airliner.
That’s right, folks. An A380, a double-decker super-jumbo jet capable of carrying a staggering total of 840 passengers.
Airbus has confirmed that it has taken an order for an A380 that will be modified for the customer’s personal use. The plane itself costs $300 million, and the customization is expected to add another $50 million to $100 million.
I don’t know how much it costs to keep a flight crew, ground crew and other support staff on hand for this toy, but I’m guessing it’s not cheap. However, if you’re dropping up to $400 mil just for the plane, a pilot’s salary is just spare change.
An Airbus official said that the owner is not from Europe or the United States, which I suspect means the mogul in question lives in the Middle East or Asia. The plane will be tricked up for the customer’s “personal use and his entourage.”
This sets a new definition of wretched excess. But it’s almost to be expected, since aviation experts say there are already about 20 Boeing 747s being used as private jets.
Who wants another 747 when you can fly in something almost twice as big? And when you are mega-rich, apparently size does matter.
I hate to sound like a Commie, but can you image how many starving people could be fed with all the money being tossed around here? Yikes … and yuck.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Fatherhood
George Bush and Barack Obama don’t have a lot in common. One is a conservative Republican, the other a liberal Democrat.
But they agree on one thing: Fatherhood is important.
One of these men said this week:
“Fathers instill in their children an understanding of right and wrong and help them to grow in confidence and character. These dedicated men strive to give their sons and daughters the necessary foundation to make good choices and lead lives of purpose.”
The other said:
“Let’s admit to ourselves that there are a lot of men out there that need to stop acting like boys; who need to realize that responsibility does not end at conception; who need to know that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child but the courage to raise a child.”
Does it matter which man uttered which quote?
No it does not. What is important is the sentiments that both expressed.
I have four kids. After my faith, the most important thing in my life is to be a good father to them and a good husband to my wife.
Some kids don’t have fathers in their lives. That’s a shame. Kids don’t have to have an active father to grow up strong and smart, but it helps -- immensely.
If you’re a man with kids, don’t ever shortchange them. If your dad still with you, cherish him. One day, sooner than you think, he will be gone.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Say it ain't so, Robert
I shouldn’t feel sorry for Robert Joseph, but I do.
A week ago, the graduate of Memorial High School in Port Arthur seemed to have it all. He was on one of the best college football teams in the nation — the mighty UT Longhorns.
He played seven games last year before being sidelined with a shoulder injury for the final six. But he had healed and was expected to compete for a starting job this fall.
Not bad for a 19-year-old kid. Until he blew it with a really boneheaded move.
On June 9 he was arrested in Austin for car burglary. A security guard found him in a vehicle he didn’t own at a downtown Austin hotel.
First he was suspended from the team. Two days later, he announced that he would transfer from UT and look for another place to “get a fresh start.”
"We appreciate everything that Robert contributed to our football program," head coach Mack Brown said in The Houston Chronicle. "We wish him the very best in football and in life."
Nice thoughts, Mack. You were too polite to say what everybody else was thinking: “Uh, Robert, how could you be so dumb?”
The disciplinarian in me says Joseph deserves what he gets. The humanitarian in me remembers what it was like to be 19.
I don’t know about you, but when I was a teenager, what I knew about life could be summed up in two words: not much.
A bunch of years later, I know this: Life is a series of choices … and chances. You might get only one chance for that special job or soul-mate or trip overseas. If you bungle it, you might spend the rest of your life wondering. “What if … ?”
I really hope that Joseph can rebound from this, play some good DB again and get into the NFL, his dream. But this mess sure doesn’t make that goal any easier.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Taking the Paris Challenge
The celebrity world was rocked by Paris Hilton’s declaration this week that she would no longer “act dumb.”
From Hollywood to Times Square and back, the rich and famous hadn’t been this surprised since the success of “Shrek 3.” In fact, many of the Beautiful People were motivated to make their own inspiring and surprising pledges:
Barbara Walters: “I am no longer going to act as if I liked Rosie O’Donnell. Let’s face it folks, when it came to being obnoxious, she was large and in charge.”
Barry Bonds: “I am no longer going to pretend that I didn’t do steroids. For the past five years, I’ve been juiced like an orange grove in Florida!”
Nancy Grace: “I am no longer going to treat every little tragedy in some Godforsaken small town seem like a national crisis, complete with hourly updates on the missing person and somber accounts from their friends/families about what he/she was like. From now on, I’m going to be a responsible journalist!”
Kobe Bryant: “I am no longer going to force myself to say that I care about any other player or coach with the Lakers. Your suspicions were right, fans: It IS all about me.”
Geraldo Rivera: “I am no longer going to masquerade as a serious reporter. I’m the king of fluff and scandal, and I love it! Next up: Inside the secret relationship between Beth Holloway and John Ramsey.”
EDITOR’S NOTE: Soon after these statements were issued, the publicists for each of the celebs released the following “clarification,” which read in its entirety: “Naaaah, just kidding!”
Friday, June 08, 2007
Get the lead out
So how much longer will Bullet Brain be allowed to game the system?
I refer of course to Joshua Adams of Groves, who is carrying around a slug in his forehead.
Bush claims, with a straight face, presumably, that the lead got there when a friend accidentally shot him. No, he won’t name this mythical friend.
Port Arthur police believe, with some justification, that the bullet arrived in Bush’s skull when it was fired by a man trying to break up the burglary of his car lot last year. They want a ballistics test to prove the point.
Adams doesn’t want the slugectomy. I think I know why. I think there’s a real strong possibility that the ballistics test will prove that the bullet came from the gun fired by the car lot owner. Then Bush could be charged with that crime.
The first attempt to pull the projectile was stopped because bone had started growing around it. Then a hospital backed out of another plan to bag the bullet because it was afraid of — this is really irritating — getting sued.
Then Bush started laying out all kinds of conditions before he would agree to the surgery — hoping, one suspects, that police would give up. After a deal was finally struck, Bush backed out anyway.
Gee, I wonder why?
In the end, none of this may matter. Bush faces so many other charges, including a new one for threatening a witness with a gun, that he may wind up behind bars for a long time anyway.
All of this would be funny if it weren’t so serious.
People accused of crimes should not get to call the shots like this. Yes, the Fourth Amendment does prohibit unfair searches and seizures, and that protection is important.
But does that mean that a kidnapper can refuse to let the cops enter his house because they will find the victim?
Of course not. And neither should Bullet Brain be able to manipulate a system that is trying to determine if he is a dangerous felon.
Let the doctors do their thing, and then let prosecutors do theirs.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Bloomberg's blowoff
I don’t know about you, but I was a little nervous over the report last week that domestic terrorists were planning to blow up JFK airport in New York and anyone in or around it.
Hey, this came less than a month after a similar plot to attack soldiers in Fort Dix, N.J., was uncovered.
The scary part about both plots is that the jihadis were home-grown. We’re talking immigrants who have lived and worked among us for years. Instead of seeing us as jes’ plain folks, they saw us as Great Satans who needed to be sent to the next world, ready or not.
Thank God they were caught in time. And thank God both groups of plotters were a little stupid.
The Fort Dix Six were uncovered when they brought a VHS tape of their threats to a Circuit City store and wanted it converted to a DVD.
One of the JFK plotters thought that their newest member “had been sent by Allah to be the one” to pull off the attack. Actually, doofuss, the chosen one was an informant.
Anyhow, you might think that the mayor of New York would be a little concerned about the plot too. After all, the first World Trade Center bombings and 9-11 horrors occurred in the Big Apple. To New Yorkers, there is nothing abstract about terrorism.
To my surprise, Mayor Michael Bloomberg said the latest plot … was no big deal.
"There are lots of threats to you in the world,” he told WCBSTV. “ …You can’t sit there and worry about everything. Get a life. … You have a much greater danger of being hit by lightning than being struck by a terrorist."
Gee whiz, Mr. Mayor! I suppose the lightning/terrorist things is mathematically valid, but these guys weren’t planning a college prank.
Authorities say they were scheming to bomb a fuel pipeline feeding the airport and set off an inferno. One of the plotters worked at JFK in the cargo section and knew the layout. The group also made several surveillance trips around the airport — each recorded on audio and video.
You don’t have to watch too many episodes of “24” to be worried about something like that. Yet the very mayor of New York reacts like a bored cabbie hearing that the Yankees lost and shrugs, “Fugedaboudit.” Wow!
I hope our luck holds. I also hope the mayor of the next city that is targeted isn’t so naïve.
Friday, June 01, 2007
28 times?
The days when we laughed at drunk drivers are long gone. Tragedies like the death of Beaumont police officer Lisa Beaulieu — and a thousand others — have driven home a fact as hard and unyielding as a tombstone:
Drunk driving is a terrible menace. Drunk drivers must get real punishment from our courts. They must not get wrist-slaps that basically encourage them to do it again.
So what do we make of Joseph Brill of Albuquerque, N.M.? This loser was in court again for drunk driving on Tuesday. It was not his first offense on this charge. It was his 28th.
That’s not a misprint. Not counting his latest run-in, he has 27 previous DWI charges.
Fourteen have resulted in convictions. I would guess that many of the rest were plea-bargained down to something like public intoxication … but should have gone in the books as a DWI.
How can that happen? How can any state be so incredibly lax about public safety?
This time, a state judge set Brill’s bail at $100,000.
"The probabilities are if you get behind the wheel, you’re going to hurt or kill somebody," the judge was quoted by the Associated Press.
Right on, judge. The 27 other judges who handled this clown’s cases should have done the same.
Brill’s attorney said he has not caused any accidents. If so, that’s a miracle. He’s also a ticking time bomb who is going to break hearts if he isn’t put behind bars.
I have a solution for repeat DWI convictions. About the third one, the law should require a minimum sentence of three years in jail. Three full years — no parole or time off for good behavior.
For a fourth DWI, a minimum sentence of four years. Five years for a fifth, and so on up the ladder.
That formula would do something that a lot of other laws have failed to do. It would get drunk drivers off our roads — no ifs, ands or buts … or funerals for innocent victims of somebody like Joseph Brill.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Michael's mess
You are Michael Vick, star quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons.
You make millions.
In the offseason, you could do just about anything Donald Trump does.
So apparently you choose … dogfighting?
Lots of NFL fans want Vick to say it ain’t so, but ....
On April 25, police conducting a drug investigation — right there, that is not good news — raided a 15-acre estate Vick owned in Smithfield, Va. Turns out Vick’s cousin — the target of the drug raid — said he lived there.
Police founds dozens of mistreated dogs that appeared to be used for fighting — along with equipment typically used for dogfighting.
We’re talking treadmills to build stamina, syringes for injecting various stimulants, “pry bars” used for prying apart the vise-like jaws of pit bulls. Oh, and bloodstained carpeting.
Of the 66 dogs found, 55 were pit bulls. The property also may contain the carcasses of 30 other fighting dogs.
Hey, it’s not like there’s a retirement plan in dogfighting. You have a few matches, then it’s that Great Big Kennel in the Sky.
Can it get worse for No. 7? Uh, yes.
ESPN cited a “reliable police informant” who said Vick is “one of the heavyweights” in area dogfighting circles. He reportedly bet big bucks on fights.
"I’m talking $30,000, $40,000," the informant told ESPN. “ … I’ve seen it.”
Vick says he didn’t live at the estate. He said he was taken advantage of by family members who did.
Heck, he said he didn’t know that the large kennel there might have been used for anything illegal. (I guess he thought it was a puppy mill.)
Let’s hope so, Michael.
But right now, this thing stinks like a locker room after a September game.
If Vick is innocent, he needs to hang around with a better crowd to avoid these kinds of, er, misunderstandings.
If he’s guilty, he’s really dumb.
If he’s guilty, did he really think this would go on without anybody noticing … or running his mouth?
Gee whiz, if Vick likes animals that much, why not dabble in horseracing like all the other millionaires?
It’s safer, more glamorous, and outside of a few shady tracks and stablehands, reasonably legal.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Responsibility
Grief is expected when you lose a loved one. Nowadays, a lawsuit often is too.
The father of the St. Louis Cardinals pitcher killed in a car crash last month has filed a wrongful death lawsuit.
The suit filed by Dean Hancock, father of Josh Hancock, said these “legal actions (were) necessary against those who contributed to the untimely and unnecessary death of my son at the age of 29.”
The suit names the restaurant where Hancock was drinking the night he died.
It also names the tow-truck driver who was responding to an accident — and the owner of the vehicle involved in that accident.
The younger Hancock died when his SUV smashed into the rear of the tow truck on an interstate highway. The truck was preparing to remove the first vehicle.
You could make an argument that the restaurant helped Hancock get drunk that night.
The family’s lawyer said drinks were handed to the young pitcher for the entire 3½ hours he was there.
You could make an argument that the tow truck shouldn’t have been in the way, too, when Hancock was driving home late at night.
The truck and the vehicle it was about to tow were on the highway, not on the shoulder. The family’s lawyer said the tow truck may have been behind the vehicle for up to 15 minutes but didn't get it out of the way.
All those things should be considered.
But something else should be considered too: The person most responsible for the fatal accident was Josh Hancock himself.
His blood-alcohol level when he died was 0.157 percent. That’s almost twice the 0.08 that defines intoxication in most states.
However this case ends, it won’t changed what happened in the beginning.
No one forced Josh Hancock to drink that night.
No one forced him to drive after he drank too much.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Size matters
One of the best ways to improve your car’s gas mileage is by making sure the tires are properly inflated. Newer cars even have dashboard warning lights that tell you if one of your quartet is low.
That’s nice. But have you ever wondered why tire manufacturers make it hard to find the one piece of information on a tire that you care about?
I am referring, of course, to the number of pounds per square inch that your tire should be inflated to, such as “42 psi.”
Most tires have a bunch of things written on the side, from company stuff to product numbers. When you want to inflate a tire, the only thing you want to know is the psi number.
It’s there, of course — somewhere. It’s just written in the same tiny type as the rest of the gibberish, and that makes it hard to find.
Maybe you’re one of those car owners who knows his psi number or remembers it when he needs to know it. Good for you.
Lots of us, however, don’t carry that number around in our heads.
When we’re at the gas station or convenience store, squatting down, maybe in the hot sun or drizzling rain, all we want to find is the psi number so we know much air the low tire needs.
So here’s my solution, and you have to wonder why this hasn’t been done before: Why not put the psi number in big type, such as letters a half-inch high, so that people can actually see it when they need to?
I'm talking "blah-blah-blah 42 psi blah-blah-blah ... "
Maybe there are some tires like that now, but I haven’t seen them.
If I was head bureaucrat at the U.S. Department of New Rules, I’d make that mandatory for all tires manufactured after tomorrow.
It might save enough gas nationwide to get the price below $3 a gallon … for a few days.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Consecutive justice
A thoughtless killer by the name of Jorge Arellano was sentenced to four life terms in prison on Thursday in Brownsville. It was true justice.
What makes this case noteworthy is that finally, a judge has correctly employed the use of consecutive sentences — not concurrent ones.
The background: In March 2006, Arellano was drunk and driving, and he ran a stop sign. That’s bad, but what happened next was incredibly appalling.
Arellano killed three people in the Ford Mustang he plowed into — U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer Cynthia Carreon; her husband, Jorge Carreon; and Mario Gonzalez, a U.S. Border Patrol agent.
Just like that, three fine members of law enforcement wiped out by a drunk driver.
(And why is it that the boozer usually survives these wrecks while killing other people?)
Arellano was found guilty last month of three counts of intoxication manslaughter.
State district Judge Leonel Alejandro sentenced Arellano to four life terms. And again, here’s the key point: Those terms are consecutive, not concurrent.
In other words, this 28-year-old slug is not eligible for parole for … 120 years!
To which I say two things:
A) Hallelujah! and
B) Why does state law allow such nonsense as concurrent terms?
When a criminal gets two sentences stacked concurrently on top of each other, the concept of punishment is rendered meaningless.
If someone breaks two laws and gets, say, two concurrent five-year sentences, who is fooled?
He will serve only five years, just as if he broke one law and got sentenced to one five-year term.
Concurrent sentences should be abolished. Anyone convicted of multiple offenses should serve consecutive terms.
Arellano, for example, killed three human beings. Justice demands that he be punished for every single one of those monstrous crimes.
Anything else, like meaningless-but-feel-good concurrent sentences, makes a mockery of the law.
Judge Alejandro gets my vote for Judge of the Year in Brownsville.
The member of the Texas Legislature who gets a bill passed banning concurrent sentences will get my vote for Lawmaker of the Year.
Any takers in Austin?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Wade's world
I stopped rooting for the Dallas Cowboys in March of 1994. That would be when owner Jerry Jones fired coach Jimmy Johnson.
I knew that Jerry had a big ego, but getting rid of a coach who had just one back-to-back Super Bowls and who might be able to pull off an unprecedented “three-peat”? And to replace him with a yo-yo like Barry Switzer?
It was absurdity squared. Plus it was happening to one of Port Arthur’s most famous sons. Not only did I stop cheering for America’s Team, I reveled in its subsequent slide.
However, nothing lasts forever. Now JJ has hired another local boy made good — Wade Phillips, son of Bum Phillips. It’s time to declare a truce and hope for the best for Wade, a truly nice guy in a business without a lot of them.
After the Cowboys’ first mini-camp this week, however, the early signs are not good. Several players are saying how glad they are that coach Bill Parcells is gone.
I was no fan of the Tuna’s, but he did know how to win. He also was a gruff disciplinarian, and that clearly rankled several Cowboys.
Running back Julius Jones complained that he had been forced to run “like a robot.” The infamous Terrell Owens praised the looser “atmosphere in the locker room. I don’t think I just have to really spell it out for you, but I think it’s very evident.”
Cowboy Nation, be concerned. When players start saying that the new coach has made practice fun again, that could be the first sign of a losing season.
Practice, especially in a brutal sport like football, is not supposed to be fun. It is supposed to hard and challenging and overall rather unpleasant. It’s also what good teams do to survive and prevail over a long, grueling season.
We shall see how it all unfolds. I just hope that after Wade welcomes all the players back with smiles and backslaps … he makes ’em sweat and cuss a little.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Bodies, buzzards, blecchh
If you live near Texas State University by San Marcos, you might be thinking, “Thank God for the buzzards.”
You see, if it weren’t for those flying scroungers, TSU would be well on its way to setting up the nation’s largest … “body farm.”
In case you’ve never watched CSI, a “body farm” is where researchers put human bodies outside and watch them, uh, decompose. They also bury a few.
By doing that, they can observe what happens to bodies over time in different environments. This helps cops when they find a body after weeks or months and want to know how it transitioned from a person to a corpse.
It sounds scientific and important and all that, but I’m basically thinking, “Yuck!”
Back to the buzzards. TSU’s plans have been shelved because it seems a body farm would attract buzzards (duh!) and the birds could create a danger for planes using the San Marcos Municipal Airport.
Undaunted, TSU officials will be searching for a new location. Good luck, I guess.
But since this great land of ours already has two “body farms” — one operated by the University of Tennessee at Knoxville and the other by Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, N.C. — do we really need a third one … in Texas?
What about property values? The town's image? And can you imagine what fans from other colleges will say to taunt TSU teams on road games? You don’t want to go there, my friend.
In closing, I would basically like to say once again … “Yuck!”
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Houston, we have a problem
Astro fans are not happy campers right now.
The team has started out slow — again. It is limping along at 15-17 in a division where anything above .500 makes you a contender.
This weekend, of course, Astro fans learned that Roger Clemens would not be riding to the rescue this year.
The Rocket signed with the Yankees instead. As a Cardinals fan, I couldn’t care less. In fact, I’m glad Clemens is pitching in a different division in a different league.
What does irritate me, however, are a couple of myths that Roger has been perpetuating, either openly or indirectly:
Myth No. 1: My family is more important than baseball right now.
If that were the case, Clemens would have stayed in Houston, whether he was pitching for the Astros or not. After all, that is — or was — where his family was living.
Myth No. 2: It’s not about the money.
Folks, when a professional athlete says this, it is PRECISELY about the money. Roger is about to don Yankee pinstripes because George Steinbrenner would cough up $28 mil (pro-rated) and no one else would match him.
Roger’s strongest family tie was to Houston. His strongest emotional link was to Boston. Guess where he signed? The place with the strongest financial incentive.
The Astros apparently didn’t even score any points with Roger when they gave his son Koby a $380,000 signing bonus last year.
That’s a lot of money for an eighth-round 18-year-old. If the lad’s name had been Koby Jones, I’m guessing he would have gotten less than half that.
Whatever. All baseball fans who don’t live in Gotham have another reason to root against the Evil Empire. It’s just not fair that The Boss can load up his team with one overpaid superstar after another until he buys another championship.
In that league, you have to root for the Red Sox.
In the National, the Brewers are already being called this year’s Tigers.
We shall see. But if there’s another Subway Series, please wake me when it’s Christmas.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Death While Intoxicated
In Southeast Texas right now, a DWI fatality isn’t something abstract. The death of Beaumont Police Officer Lisa Beaulieu on April 27 is still an open wound. It will be for a long, long time.
The thought of that fine young woman being struck by a car and thrown off an overpass to the pavement below is too painful to think about.
For someone like me who grew up in St. Louis, Mo., the perils of drunk driving are reinforced in another way.
A young pitcher on the Cardinals named Josh Hancock was killed early last Sunday. His SUV slammed into the rear of a tow truck stopped alongside the highway — with its lights flashing.
As a lot of people — like me — suspected, Hancock was hammered when it happened. His blood-alcohol level was tragically high — 0.157. Worse yet, 8.5 grams of marijuana and a glass pipe were found in his crumpled Ford Explorer.
Hancock was speeding (68 in a 55 zone) when it happened, talking on a cell phone and not wearing a seat belt. He had spent the evening at a sports bar in St. Louis owned by former Cardinal third-baseman Mike Shannon. The woman he was talking to when it happened said he was going to another bar.
As much as Cardinal fans grieve for him and his family, it’s plain to see that his death was completely unnecessary.
Before Friday’s first home game since Hancock’s death, the Cardinals banned alcohol in the clubhouse. Manager Tony La Russa lamely said the move was mostly symbolic “because our guys don’t stay in the clubhouse to drink.”
I don’t know if the Cardinals have more of a collective drinking problem than any other team of young, rich athletes who think they are invincible. But La Russa himself got a DWI in Florida during spring training.
When I went to a Cardinal game in St. Louis a few years ago with my son, I was saddened to hear about a cop who was directing traffic after a game and hit by a drunk driver. The officer lived … but he lost both legs.
You’ve heard it a thousand times: Don’t drink and drive. Some folks do it anyway. Either they don’t care what happens, or they think they’ll somehow beat the odds once again.
If they keep it up, their number will come up. If they kill only themselves like Josh Hancock, that’s one thing. If someone like Lisa Beaulieu is killed, that’s entirely different.
If you drink and drive, you need to think about these things. Then you need to stop doing it.
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