The Hard Question

Today I am rolling out a new feature called "The Hard Question" in which I encourage you the readers to offer your input into various issues of the day. Let's start with case of the Duke lacrosse players.

The Attorney General of North Carolina announced last week that all charges would be dismissed against Reade Seligmann, Colin Finnerty and David Evans, the 3 remaining Duke lacrosse players who had been accused of assaulting an exotic dancer during a team party in March of last year.

The case was instantly sensational, raising as it did on the surface questions of race and sex, privilege and class and the relationship of a wealthy elite school to a town with a considerable black population. The players were suspended. The coach was fired. Guys were led off in hand cuffs. The pictures made newspapers everywhere.

Only the case against them started unraveling almost overnight. One of the players could account for his whereabouts at the time of the incident. The other dancer that was present testified that no assault took place. The accuser, who had a prior history of making accusations of sexual assault, put out more stories than O. Henry. Finally, and most damning, there was no DNA evidence matching these guys up to the victim which is unheard of in these types of cases according to a couple of prosecutor types of my acquaintance.

The prosecutor, Mike Nifong, now has real problems with his license. The North Carolina Bar is looking into charges of wrongful or malicious prosecution. As will it should. All in all, it is beginning to look like Nifong brought these charges hastily in order to get elected Prosecuting Attorney. For a good analysis of this go to http://polycarp.blogspot.com . It appears that he will get his.

But what of the players? What do they do to get their lives back? For the rest of their days, they will forever be remembered as the guys in the "Duke lacrosse case." Sure, they were behaving badly on the night in question. But being young, drunk and horny isn't a crime. What about the coach who was discharged from a job he loved by all accounts? How can he receive some measure of justice?

Which brings me to today's Hard Question: Should the accuser be prosecuted for making a false accusation? The Attorney General has said that there are no plans to bring charges against her. I realize the policy decisions that go into the decision not to prosecute. You certainly do not want to discourage victims of sexual assault from coming forward. This is a sensitive and complicated issue. Just because a case cannot be made in some instances does not mean that the accuser is lying. I understand all that.

But this is a pretty extreme example of the damage that bringing what now appears to be a palpably false accusation of a heinous crime can cause. Lives were damaged, Duke's reputation was tarnished and the criminal justice system in Durham County took a hit as well. Is it a completely crazy notion that everybody responsible should be held accountable?

Let me know what you think by leaving a comment below. You may use your name, use an assumed name or leave your comments anonymously.

A note of caution: I reserve the right to edit or delete any comments that are inappropriate before they are published. So those of you that find rape jokes hilarious need not bother.

Fire Away!

Apologia

Sometimes, no matter how many I times I try to edit it, Blogger refuses to publish the spacing between the paragraphs so it looks like one long run-on sentence. This happens most frequently whenever I insert a picture.

If anybody out there knows of a solution to this I would like to hear it.

My Sunday Feeling

What do Don Imus and the Tennessee Titans' Adam "Pac Man" Jones have in common? Both of them ran afoul of their employers and kind of for the same reason. Imus got canned by CBS for talking like a thug whereas Jones got a one year suspension by the NFL for being a thug. Not content to mete out stern justice to just one NFL miscreant, Commissioner Roger Goodell suspended Cincinnati Bengals wideout Chris Henry as well for multiple violations of the NFL's new "personal conduct" policy. Henry's most recent faux pas was that he pleaded out last January to giving a minor some alcohol. Note to Chris: make 'em show you a driver's license before offering them a Courvoisier and Dr. Pepper.

By the way, Jones and Henry played-and were suspended on numerous occasions- together at West Virginia. The knucklehead factor for the Mountaineers increased exponentially with those two on the roster. Indeed, Henry fits in exceptionally well with the Bengals seeing as how they set what has to be a league record for player arrests last year.

As for Jones, he has had ten instances of what are typically referred to as "run-ins" with the police since being drafted by the Titans in 2005. What finally moved Goodell to throw the book at Jones was a melee in a Las Vegas strip joint during the weekend of the NBA All-Star game, a weekend characterized by numerous incidents all over town, many of them precipitated by NFL guys in town for the weekend. It was the kind of weekend that gives law enforcement a greater appreciation for organized crime because disorganized crime is really hard to get on top of once things get out of hand.

Jones' contribution to the mayhem came after he showered 40 strippers onstage with $8100 at the coyly named Minxx Gentleman's Club and Lounge. $8100? How did he come up with that number? Anyway, the festivities began in earnest when Jones insisted that the ladies give the money back. One thing led to another and a woman was shot in the head. A security guard was also shot. He is paralyzed for life.

Now, in all fairness it must be said that Jones did not do the shooting. Indeed, he has not even been charged with anything at this writing. After all, it is not against the law to be acting like a knucklehead in a strip joint in the wee hours of the morning. But the NFL and the NBA are getting increasingly more and more redassed about the issue of off the field conduct. Which means that this not a good time to be a "Pac-Man" Jones or a Chris Henry.

There are some who would say that in the case of Jones particularly the suspension is particularly draconian since he has not been charged with anything and received suspended sentences for his other "run-ins." The San Francisco Chronicle's usually sensible Gwen Knapp even suggested that Goodell's actions were unconstitutional.

To which I call "bullshit." For the most part, and the exceptions don't apply here, actions by private individuals or organizations can't deprive someone of their Constitutional rights. My father used to tell me to shut up all the time. One time I told him that I thought I had a 1st Amendment right to free speech. He told me to write my Congressman. And to shut up.

Same thing applies here with equal force. If the Chris Henrys and Tank Johnsons of this world think the league is coming down too hard on them, they need to grieve it through the Player's Association.

But even if the NFL is within its rights to clamp down on these jerks, isn't it hypocritical? The NFL turns a blind eye to the hyper macho, chest thumping, mouth running antics of these guys every Sunday. It expects these guys to work themselves up into a lather sufficient to play in the hyper-violent NFL and then they expect them to turn it off at the buzzer? They are surprised that poorly socialized young men with more money than sense get into trouble? As Tony Kornheiser once said, " Not every paranoid-schizophrenic can play at the Division I level."

Which brings me back to Imus who has said things on the air that are 10 times worse than referring to the Rutgers women's basketball team as "nappy headed hos." And the suits at CBS did nothing about it until the sponsors got nervous. That's the way it is in the entertainment business. The suits will keep dancing with the devil as long as the product isn't threatened. But when it is, they find somebody to hang out to dry.

It's constitutional. But it is hypocritical.

Nice,nice very nice-So many different people in the same device.

Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday as a result of injuries to his brain that he sustained in a fall at his Manhattan home. He was 84.

He was proud that he never successfully committed suicide.

One of my law school friends says that his earliest memory of me from those halcyon days is that I quoted Kurt Vonnegut all of the time.

Was I an insufferable asshole or what?

His last years were mostly spent on the lecture circuit where he urged listeners to think for themselves and to be skeptical about the media and religion. His last book, "Man Without A Country" is a collection of essays about such matters. For all of his mordant humor and depression I actually found Vonnegut to be a rather hopeful writer, a characterization that he would probably find astounding. Vonnegut loved people. You can sense it in the essays in "Man Without A Country."

Hope abides in the heart that loves. No matter how cynical is the head.

The world is always diminished when a hopeful heart is gone. Peace, Mr. Vonnegut.

As The Hogs Turn

I am on the board of a non-profit do-gooder organization. Just like Houston Nutt. I have business to conduct with 3 0r 4 serious lookers who are on the board. All of them are married. I exchange e-mails and text messages with them from time to time.

The max would be around 25-30 a month. 95% would be business related and the other messages tend to be about questions about my Mom.

I have no idea what is going on up there and I don't care.

Just saying.....

Not making a value judgment but even assuming that everything is on the up and up, everybody up there seems to have a tin ear as to appearances.

That's all...





http://64.106.153.82/Articles/ArticleViewer.aspx?ArticleID=0ebc1ebe-5193-4367-985b-1330c9650737

Ho Ho Ho!

I guess I really don't know what to make of the latest flap WFAN's Don Imus finds himself in the middle of. By now, everyone knows that Imus, for reasons known only to him, saw fit to refer to the women of Rutger's basketball team as " nappy headed hos" The resultant firestorm of criticism clearly caught the man off-guard.

And why shouldn't it? Imus says stuff like this ALL OF THE TIME. His shtick is homophobic, misogynistic and racist. Bernard McGuirck, his sidekick and "producer" is even worse. To me, his only saving grace is that he is possibly one of the most insightful commentator on political events in broadcasting. Indeed, I believe it was Maureen Dowd who said that Don Imus had the best "bullshit detector" in the business. He must have it in the shop when he interviewed Mike Huckabee because he pretty much laid off on Huck the two or three times he interviewed him.

Given the fact that referring to black women as "nappy headed hos" is vintage Imus why all of the fuss? And there is a fuss, make no mistake about it. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson are calling for his scalp. Sponsors are pulling out and the head of CBS says he ought to be fired. This is new.

The only thing I can think of is that generally when Imus does his thing he is skewering public figures or just speaking generally about people. Here he made a completely unnecessary remark about young women who had done nothing other than compete honorably on the field of play for the greater glory of the State of New Jersey. As far as I can tell, the Rutgers team is predominantly black. The Tennessee team that clobbered them the night before Imus shot his mouth off is about 50-50. Imus didn't say anything derogatory about them.

There is hardly ever any justification for going off on college kids. I think it is nothing more complicated than people just saw the tape and said, " Hey, that ain't fair." The fact that he chose to run down kids that go to school in his backyard didn't help his case any.

Imus is doing what celebrities do at times like this. He is apologizing. He is going off the air for a couple of weeks. He can't go into rehab because he is already a recovering alcoholic. He is going to meet with the Rutgers team and C. Vivian Stringer, their high-pissed coach who is neither nappy nor a ho but is someone I would not like to meet in a dark alley. And I feel the same way about Pat Summit. Some women you do not cross.

Dan Patrick asked good ole Joe Morgan what he thought about all of this. He allowed as how you ought not to ever refer to a woman as a whore and he also said that he longed for the time when "you couldn't talk like that on the radio."

I'm afraid those days are gone forever. But maybe this episode is proof that the public just won't stand fit when an "entertainer" makes fun of certain people. Don Imus may have the best bullshit detector in the business. But he would have been better off with a little bell in his head to warn him that he was screwing up.

My Easter Feeling

Today is Easter Sunday which is pretty much my favorite day on the church calendar. Plenty of folks prefer Christmas. I am not one of those people.

Christmas to me is a pretty juvenile event both in the secular and the theological sense. Christmas at this point in our history is practically devoid of any religious significance in the popular culture. It is all about consumption and gratification. Who the hell needs any religious celebration that can bankrupt a business? There are plenty of businesses that depend on a big Christmas to survive through the year. Who the hell needs that?

Thank God the Easter Bunny never really caught like Santa. Easter still pretty much means something.

Christmas is about the birth of a baby and everybody loves babies. It's also about the slaughter of the Holy Innocents but I digress. It is about angels playing trumpets in the sky and wise men following a distant star. Pure treacle.

If Easter was a movie it would be PG with its adult themes of agony and betrayal. Not all of us have seen angels in the sky and most of us that have are given medicine. But all of us can relate to feelings of abandonment and isolation. All of us. And all of us, thank God, have experienced far more constancy and support than we deserve. Pretty much all of us have people at the foot of our crosses, people that never abandon us even if they are only there to take us down.

You don't get any of that kind 0f gravitas at Christmas.

But I like Easter. I find it reassuring to sit in church and be reminded that there is hope for a better day no matter how dark and bleak life seems to be. It's easy to lose sight of that sometimes. It's easy to become inward directed. And inward directed people are either egomaniacs or they are unable to get outside themselves to put their troubles in perspective. I can't recommend either approach to life.

The Easter summons encourages us to look up and out. For one day on the calendar victory remains in love and hope is the order of the day.

When You're Hot You're Hot

Yesterday, the Razorbacks sent their plane up to Nebraska to bring Creighton's Dana Altman to Fayetteville in order to introduce him as the new occupant of the Chair of Basketball. They had the press conference, everybody called the Hogs and Frank Broyles headed for Augusta to watch the Masters.

Apparently Altman hung around for a day and said " Awww, the hell with it. I'm going back to Omaha." It is not good when a man turns down a program that considers itself to be a NATIONAL POWER to return to a tiny Midwestern Catholic "academic school" as Wally would say.

It is obvious that they held the presser before going through the formal requisites of getting Altman to actually sign a damn contract. Depending on who you read or listen to, this is the second " agreement in principle" Broyles had with a coach that was neither an agreement nor terribly principled.

As ESPN's Jay Bilas said, the geniuses in Fayetteville have screwed things up from the firing of Nolan to the inept search for the replacement for Stan Heath. I can hardly wait to hear what the pundits have to allow about this latest fiasco.

Hit the link:
http://msn.foxsports.com/cbk/story/6640996

Plugola

For those of you in the Central Arkansas area, another essay written by me is in this month's edition of Little Rock Soiree which I understand is out on the newsstands according to a reliable informant. I'm afraid that it is only available outside of the local newsstands by subscription. As far as I can tell, the articles in the magazine cannot be accessed from the Internet.

Anyway, enjoy!

My Sunday Feeling

The old gentleman wheeled himself into the lunch room at the nursing home. He was simply but nicely dressed in a snap front western style shirt and jeans. He had a pen and note pad in his front pocket, a habit he undoubtedly carried with him from his working days.

" I'll bet you're ready for your coffee aren't you Mr. Johnson?" one of the nurses said.

He smiled. " That does sound pretty good to me right about now." he said. He probably says that all of the time.

The nurse brought the old gentleman a big mug of coffee and a saucer. She placed it in his big hands. I noticed that he was still powerfully built despite being extremely elderly and confined to a wheelchair. I'll bet he was a farmer or a carpenter. I'll have to ask him next time I'm there. You can hear some interesting stories from these little people.

Mr. Johnson sipped his coffee and after a couple of sips I noticed that a look of utter contentment was impressed upon his countenance. It occurred to me that the it was the same look that Little Boy had whenever he hugged his Mother or ate pork tenderloin that I made on the grill.

Unfortunately, I remember everything. The only blessing conferred upon one by dementia is that it allows you to forget. I'm not there yet. Sometimes I think I'm working on it but I'm not there yet.

I leaned over to the nurse working at the station beside where I was standing. " I don't believe I've ever seen a man enjoy a cup of coffee any more than that gentleman." I said.

" Mr. Johnson likes his coffee. He'd drink it all day if we would let him." she said. " You hang around here long enough and you sure start realizing all of the things you take for granted."

Boy, ain't that the truth. I can walk. I can bathe and dress myself. I can drive my car. I live independently in my own little house. I don't need help to go to the bathroom.

And I can drink coffee anytime I goddamn well get the notion.

As you read this it is Palm Sunday which commemorates the triumphant entry of doomed Jesus into Jerusalem. Thus begins the week long journey to Easter Sunday which is my favorite day on the Christian calendar. But more about that next week.

Suffice it to say for now that ever since I have embarked upon this latest, and probably final journey with Mother, I have become acutely aware of the fleeting nature of our earthly existence. As one my friends, a man who is bravely battling cancer, reminds me, " Life is just a flicker."

I am the only one in my boat. It is up to me, and me alone, to do a better job of manning the oars and turning the rudder.

No man enjoys his life more than I do. Despite my numerous allergies which are currently killing me, I enjoy robust good health. The men in my family typically don't live very long and I am bumping up against the window of my mortality if genetics is any guide. But I have an armada of frowning physicians hovering over me and my cardiologist flat out told me a couple of weeks ago that "[y]ou are never going to have a heart attack."

If the unthinkable occurs and I am indeed someday found on the golf course colder than the wedge in my hand, I hereby direct my executorto sue the only 6'6" heart doctor in Little Rock for breach of warranty.

Sure we're friends. But bidness is bidness.

Life is but a flicker. We take it all for granted. From a Mother's hug to a cup of coffee.

We start out each Spring undefeated. It's time to make some changes.

But more on that later.

Any pub is good pub: My brother called to say that last night he saw "themovingfingerwrites,blogspot.com" written on the bathroom wall at a local watering hole called "Vino's" here in Little Rock. I've gone from being cited by one of the idiot callers to "Drive Time Sports" to the wall of a joint where a bunch of gnarly goth type kids hang out.

"My, my, my" as John Thompson, the legendary coach of the Georgetown Hoyas, used to say.

" I'm just surprised that the word 'sucks' did not appear after the word 'com.' " I said.

" Oh, it does now." John said.

My, my, my.

Suffer The Children

The attempt to outlaw gay folks-even relatives-from becoming foster parents or legal guardians was beaten back by the Arkansas legislature's Judiciary Committee last Tuesday. I never thought I would see the day. For Doug Thompson of the Arkansas News Bureau the message sent by the opponents of such homophobia is nothing more complicated than the one taught by Jesus in the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Hit the link:


http://www.arkansasnews.com/archive/2007/03/31/DougThompson/341496.html

This Just In From The "Sports Builds Character Department"

On Friday the Feds charged a University of Toledo football player with point-shaving. According to a criminal complaint, a kid named Harvey "Scooter" McDougle jr. was recruited by a shadowy Detroit gambler named "Gary" to intice Toledo Football and basketball players to influence the outcome of games.

My response is two-fold: 1) This sort of thing is widely suspected in basketball from time-to-time and games have been fixed, most recently and notoriously at Tulane, one of my alma maters. But I don't know how you go about this in football unless you got to a quarterback or running back.

2) The fact that someone is trying to affect the outcome of games played by the Toledo Rockets is proof that some guys will damn near bet on whether the sun will come up in the morning.

Granted, Toledo is pretty low on the radar screen. But I can't imagine that much interest in action on Toledo games sufficient to run such a risk. This kid is looking at 5 years and a quarter-million dollar fine upon conviiction. Trying to fix games in the Mid-America Conference?

Either these clowns are not real good at risk calculus or gambling on college sports is more insidious than even I imagined.

Hey, enjoy the Final Four this weekend.

It's Not Easy Being Green

Go to our sister station http://strangepup.blogspot.com and click on the post entitled "Hurt."

The sound you hear is Jim Henson rolling in his grave.

Here's A Motion That Ain't Gonna Get Granted

Well, they might not make her show up for the Status Conference.

From the good folks at The Smoking Gun: http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/0329071palfrey1.html

"Frank Broyles Doesn't Have Any Idea What He's Doing."

Thus spake ESPN's Jay Bilas in the The Morning News up in Fayetteville. Hit the link: http://www.nwaonline.net/articles/2007/03/28/razorback_central/032907uabkbperception.txt

Somewhere Stan Heath Is Laughing His Ass Off

Texas A&M's Billy Clyde Gillespie has turned down Arkansas to remain in College Station. In what cannot possibly be a coincidence, Houston extended Tom Penders' contract. The nutbar fanbase around here talks wistfully of Kansas's Bill Self or USC's Tim Floyd coming here.

Right. Self is not gonna leave the 3rd or 4th best job in the country and Floyd has got the #1 high school player in the country coming in for the 1 year before he jumps to the NBA. Not that he did anything to deserve this (see Sunday's post) but Floyd has landed the prodigiously talented and amazingly named O.J. Mayo. Floyd's not likely to leave USC for the continuing psychodrama that is Arkansas athletics.

Anyway, hit the link to see Frank Broyles' humiliation writ large: http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/sports/4668232.html

Is Barbaro Alive?

This just in from those intrepid sports journalists at The Onion. As my mama used to say, " You don't know it's not true."

Hit the link: http://www.theonion.com/content/news/conspiracy_theorists_insist

Notes from the Cesspool

This story in last week's New York Times tells you everything you want to know about big time college basketball. The only redeeming factor in it is the fact that Tim Floyd is widely considered to be an OK kind of guy in a world populated by pimps and hustlers.

Hit the link.


http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/21/sports/ncaabasketball/21usc.html?em&ex=1174968000&en=453db64c5de485e6&ei=5087

My Sunday Feeling

At the outset, let me reiterate a position I have steadfastly maintained since beginning this stupid blog some 2 years ago or so. Division I Men's sports is a cesspool. Men's basketball is the heavy sludge at the bottom of the cesspool.

Despite that fact, there I was Friday night sitting in a bar in West Little Rock with my brother John, some genius financial analyst (No lie. The guy makes a high 6 figure income writing a financial newsletter for one of the local banks. Works an hour a day. Really.) and some leggy brunette of unknown provenance who decided to sit with us because she coveted my french fries.

I am not making this up.

John gave me the "head's up" that she was coming over.

John: " I think she likes you."

Me: " She looks like nothing but trouble."

John: "Yeah? And your point would be?"

Me: " I don't do trouble anymore"

John, as he recoiled in mock surprise: " Since when?"

Since a long time actually. I am practically monastic nowadays. It's just easier.

Anyway, this motley crew was united only by our thirst for adult beverages and the NCAA basketball tournament that was playing on all 3 flat screen TVs there in the tavern. Vanderbilt (of all people) was giving Georgetown-the number two seed in that region- absolute hell. It was great fun.

My buddy Don-whose eccentric musings may be read at http://www.polycarpblog.blogspot.com/ -went to college at Vanderbilt. And so, throughout the game, I would receive periodic messages from him as the Commodores threatened to upset the Hoyas. Now Don knows his football but he would be the first to tell you that he knows next to nothing about basketball. This puts him in quite the tenuous position socially as he now lives in Chapel Hill. Anyway, up until last night about all that he has allowed about Vanderbilt is that he thinks it is silly to have a sailor as your team mascot. But there he was, with his nose to the tube watching the Sailors scare the bejeesus out of Georgetown.

Despite the fact that Don is pretty ignorant when it comes to all things hoops he is responsible for singlehandedly blowing one of the best runs of luck I have ever had in an NCAA tournament office pool. The story goes something like this.

About 18-20 years ago, way before the advent of "the Internets" (to use Houston Nutt's felicitous phrase), Don worked in one of those huge law firms in Los Angeles. As you might imagine, when tournament time came around they had quite a good sized office pool with a potential grand prize of around 5 grand or something. So, since there was big money at stake, Don turned to me for guidance.

This was the year that I hit 3 of the 4 eventual entries in the Final Four. If memory serves, the Final Four that year was like a CYO invitational with Georgetown, St. John's and Villanova all vying for the title. Anyway, I won a considerable amount of money here locally and, as it turned out, Don and I won the pool at his office.

Unbeknownst to me, Don's ex-wife got wind of this bonanza and seized the winnings for child support.

" But half that money's mine!" I yelled into the phone after he had broke the bad news.

" Yeah, well.." he replied. " How are you going to enforce it? I don't know a state in the Union where a gambling contract is enforceable. Sorry, Bud."

2500 bucks goes flying out the window and all I get is "Sorry, Bud."

Such is life.

Another memorable tournament was the year that Maximum Girlfriend Emeritus for Life LS beat me soundly while picking teams based on their colors or nicknames. She picked UTEP in an upset because LS had a girlfriend who went to school out there. She always liked the desert whenever she went to visit her friend back when she was at Baylor.

You know. The scientific method based on informed opinion.

Yes, men's basketball is worse than a cesspool. But, hypocrites that we are, we love it so.

Maybe I'll watch the Finals back at the bar with John. Maybe I'll order fries just to see if "Legs" shows back up.

I don't do trouble anymore but it doesn't hurt to look at it. Doesn't hurt at all. And it is a lot less problematic than betting on college basketball.

The All-New Hendrix Warrior

Passed along without further comment:

http://www.hendrix.edu/eventsnews/eventsnews.aspx?id=9566

Articulation

I haven't written much about the inimitable Wally Hall, the alleged editor of the sports page for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette in some time. Actually, I haven't written too much about anything lately due to the pressing duties of the day job. BTW...I deny the vicious allegation posted on our sister station Strangepup that I have been slacking. I've just been busy.

Anyway, today's topic in Wally's column concerns the University of Arkansas needing to hire a "big time" coach "if Stan Heath leaves" i.e. gets fired, as some are predicting. In his column, Wally rehashes the story on how Heath got hired at Fayetteville after only one year's worth of head coaching experience at Kent State (which actually goes by Kent now as i understand it). Then his column gets interesting, although as it always seems to work with Wally, it is for all of the wrong reasons. The law of unintended consequences is always enforced over at the Democrat-Gazette sports page.

Wally goes on to write: " Heath came in with his pleasant smile and correct English and expectations were high..."

"Pleasant smile and correct English?"

Early in what promises to be an interminable political campaign for the Presidency, Sen. Joseph Biden angered many black people when he referred to Sen. Barack Obama as "clean and articulate." Some black people took offense at this remark, saying that white people only refer to intelligent black people as "articulate" as if being well-spoken were the special province of white people only.

It is one thing to comment on Stan Heath's considerable reputation for class and civility as he stands out in that regard in a profession full of egomaniacs and martinets. It is quite another to refer to a black person's "correct English."

I will give Wally the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's a racist. But he has a tendency to make much of "positive" character traits of black people he admires while demonizing the ones he doesn't like. Guys he likes are referred to as 'well dressed" or "polite" or " a yes-sir and no-sir kid." He doesn't write about white people in that fashion or at least he doesn't to the extent he uses such terminology about black people. And I think he mainly does it to pander to a certain constituency out there for whom these are still "hot button" issues. Which may be reprehensible but it doesn't make him a racist.

I think the point Wally was trying to make in his typically mangled way is he thinks that Heath was mainly smoke and mirrors and was just not cut out for the job. Or maybe Wally finds "correct English" to be a character flaw. "Correct English" is certainly nothing that he has ever employed consistently in his columns. But you would think a red flag would have gone up over there when that sentence came across somebody's desk given the furor over Joe Biden's remarks about Barack Obama.

No, I don't think Wally is a racist. He's just inarticulate.





No, I

My Sunday Feeling

This week's edition will be short and sweet. The day job has kept me pretty busy and I've got another free lance project that is due tomorrow. Will try to get back to posting more frequently soon but there's only so many hours in the day and so much staring at the computer screen I can do.

Let me begin by saying that I am not a Duke-hater. I reserve the bulk of my disdain for a certain school South of here that wears purple and gold as well as for a certain Roman Catholic institution of higher learning East of Chicago. I have no use for either of those schools, and furthermore, I do not suffer their fans gladly.

But there are those that despise Duke University and Mike Krzyzewski and their name is Legion. Granted, most of them are basketball fans at other ACC schools. But Duke bashing abounds all over the place and it usually manifests itself this time of year during the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament when Duke is typically in the thick of things.

Only this year, they are not. Duke got sent packing in the first round of this year's tourney by Virginia Commonwealth to the everlasting joy unbounded of Duke haters everywhere. Indeed, for one of the more conspicuous (and vitriolic) examples of this phenomena hit the link:http://www.truthaboutduke.com/.

Now Duke's getting the bum's rush should not have come as any great shock. They weren't very good this year. The lost their last 4 games of the season and limped into the tournament as a 5 seed mainly because, well, they're Duke. But Duke's guards are slow afoot and had trouble handling pressure all year. About all I knew about VCU was that they pressed all over the house. So, I figured they would give Duke trouble and picked them to win as did my friend PM. If guys like us are getting this right, then this isn't exactly brain surgery.

So why all the schadenfreude? In the first place, there are certain clubs that inspire class hatred. Duke is like unto the New York Yankees in that regard. I'll bet there are Yankee haters somewhere on my street. There is a certain smug arrogance about both clubs, most of it unjustified by recent performance. The Dallas Cowboys gave off much the same vibe during Tom Landry's tenure as Head Coach and Conduit to Jesus Himself.

But unlike the Yankees, Duke was once kind of America's hoops darling. Duke was pretty mediocre in hoops until Bill Foster took over. When I was a senior at Hendrix (another renowned hoops hotbed) Duke went to the Final Four with Gene Banks, Mike Gminski and true thug Terry Dennard who threw elbows at guys just for the sheer unabashed joy of it. Duke's second resurgence came under Coach K. Grant Hill, Christian Laettner and Bobby Hurley were the poster boys for all that was right in college basketball, especially when viewed alongside their main rival, frequent NCAA recidivists Jerry Tarkanian and UNLV. (The hell of it is, UNLV had actually pretty much QUIT cheating by that point in time. But sometimes thy reputation precedes ye always.)

So how did the Dukies morph into the Evil Empire? Partly they are a victim of their own success. Everybody likes to root against the Overdog and Duke, while a shadow of their former selves, has been one of college basketball's Elites for years. It's just human nature. Secondly, it cannot be denied that they brought some of this on themselves.

Dukies, while not nearly as insufferable as your average Notre Dame aficionado, tend to think very highly of themselves. This is not surprising seeing as how the majority of their constituency is upper middle class and white. Secondly, while Coach K has certainly done things the right way at Duke ( their graduation rate is one of the highest in the game. Contrary to the bullshit that is put out in Durham, Duke ain't Harvard. But still, it is an excellent school and this is commendable.) But it irritated many people, myself included, to see him shilling for both American Express and Chevrolet during last year's tournament. To profit from the cult of personality that is college coaching while kids can't get paid anything was repellent. Such an indifference to appearance is borne of arrogance.

Finally, one must concede that the recent unpleasantness concerning the allegations of improper conduct by Duke's lacrosse team did not help matters any one little bit. Rightly or wrongly, Duke came across as a lily-white bastion of privilege and indifference while racial and economic tensions in Durham roiled about the ivory tower of academe.

So Duke haters may rejoice. Duke is out of the tournament. And they make take solace in the certain truth that the days of dynasties are over. There's no way a team can keep guys together for 4 years anymore. If you have kids that are any good they will jump to the NBA draft after 2-3 years.

But Duke's signees for next year are touted as highly as any class the Evil Empire has ever signed. Love 'em of hate 'em, Duke and Coach K will be back.

You can count on that.

My Sunday Feeling

The voice on the other end of the phone was serious for once.

" We need to talk about Mom." Bob said. " You need to know that things are not going well."

And with that, my brother the nurse explained the situation through the eyes of a clinician. Mother's dementia and senility are becoming more pronounced. She no longer recognizes Bob and he comes by two or three times a week. She is losing body mass despite the fact that she is eating.

" She is starting to talk about wanting to die, wanting to go, wanting to leave, that kind of stuff." he said. " We see that at the hospital all of the time. When an elderly sick person starts talking like that, well...."

Well.

Coincidentally enough, the hospice chaplain called me later that same morning. She wanted me to know that she had been by to see Mother the day before. She wanted me to know that Mother seemed to enjoy the visit and that the chaplain prayed with her.

" My brother said that Mother is not...is becoming...is." I was stammering. This is unlike me.

" She is declining. That's why we're involved."

" He seemed to think that things were...were...."

" They are declining steadily. It is not fast but it is steady. I would agree with that. I mean she could plateau...."

She pronounced it platohhhhhhhhhhhh.

" I mean, it's not likely but it could happen." she concluded.

"Mother is dying." I thought to myself. "It's starting to happen."

" Hello?"

" I'm here."

" You OK?"

" Yeah, thanks. I mean, even though we all knew this day would come, intellectually speaking, this is kind of a lot to unpack. You know what I mean."

" I do. That's why I called. We don't just care for the patient. We care for the extended family as well. Is there anything I can do for you?"

" Umm. No. I mean, thanks. But I don't think so. Not just yet."

" OK."

" I guess what I am most concerned about is that I want her to be comfortable. I want her to have some dignity."

" So do we. That is what we are all about at hospice."

" I worry about that you know?" And I do. " I really worry about that."

" I know. Everybody does. I want you to know that she is being well taken care of. I want you to know that we will be with all of you every step of the way and that we are here for y'all 24-7."

And with that we said goodbye.

It is a beautiful Spring morning here in the People's Republic of Hillcrest. It is the kind of morning that makes you believe that Winter is really over even though you know in your heart of hearts that March and April in Arkansas is are full of surprises. Still this is the kind of morning that allows your to suspend what your sense and experience informs you.

I am on my front porch as I type this. My neighbor across the street was up early pulling weeds and putting out fertilizer. Runners are running. Folks are having yard sales. An earnest young man came by the other night asking for donations for the baseball team over at Hall High School down the road. He thinks they are going to be pretty good this year. What the hell. I gave him a check. Young fella thinks they are gonna be pretty good this year. Far be it from me to stand in the way of progress.

And it is while sitting here surrounded as I am by all of this life and by all this useless beauty (to borrow a phrase from Elvis Costello) I typed the sentence "Mother is dying." It is surreal.

" Her death is not imminent." Bob said yesterday. " She is clean, well-fed and the folks at the nursing home and Hospice are taking really good care of her. She's not suffering. But from what I've seen with other patients under similar circumstances it will be sooner than later. So you need to tell John and them what's going on up here. Now is the time to come and spend time with her. Because, well...."

Well.

Amid the splendour of all this useless beauty, in the season she loved most, my mother is dying.

It is starting to happen.

The Extended Family

A piece from the NY Times about a Division I player at UNLV who has more relations than he can say grace over.

I can't make this up.

Hit the link. Don't marry more than one woman while you are at it.


http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/05/sports/ncaabasketball/05unlv.html?_r=1&ref=sports&oref=slogin

Even Worse Than Imagined

Not only are The Kings still working, these idiots have their own website.

http://www.thekingsarehere.com/

Go to last night's post on www.strangepup.blogspot.com to see what all the commotion is about.

Hey Donna! Ya still wanna?

My Sunday Feeling

I'm taking the day off. I was busy all day yesterday with the kids trying out for Arkansas Governor's School and I need to catch up on some work from last week since I was struck down with the flu.

I'll be back later in the week once I get my head above water.

Courage.

Meanwhile Back In Jackson

Looks like Frank Melton, the embattled whack job Mayor of Jackson, Mississippi is pulling the old Mafia trick of checking himself into the hospital to avoid compliance with an arrest warrant.
Our associate in Jackson correctly points out that judges tend to take a dim view of such tactics so it will be interesting to see if the cops actually have to execute the warrant at St. Dominic's Hospital.

I used to carry on some with a doctor who practiced over there but that's another story altogether.

Hit the link and be glad we have Mark Stodola at City Hall here in Little Rock..


http://www.clarionledger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070302/NEWS/703020381

The Latest From Death's Door

As I reported earlier this week, I have managed to acquire this flu bug that is going around. Today marks the first time since Saturday night that I have not run a fever of at least 100. ( Actually, I spoke too soon. I just took my temperature. I am running a fever again. Dammit.) I can see how this shit can kill an elderly person or someone whose health status is comprimised. This is easily the sickest I have been in years. Even though I seem to be on the downhill side of this, I have no energy and my muscles are killing me. Even my hips hurt. My hips have never hurt before in my life. My friend who is doing chemo sent an e-mail wanting to know if I could do lunch today. I was afraid to reply for fear of infecting him over the Internet. No, this is a bad one. No two ways about it.

However, I also consider myself, in a very real sense, to be extremely fortunate. I was able to get meds sent over when I first suspected that I was coming down with something more serious than an allergy attack. My co-pay was 18 dollars. The portion paid by my insurance was 53. 75 bucks for 5 days worth of pills! What does a poor person do? For that matter what does an elderly person with Medicare prescription drug coverage do when if they get sick while they are in the so-called "doughnut hole": the period after early coverage where the beneficiary has to pay 100% for a period of time before coverage kicks back in? The flu will kill an elderly person. It seems to me to be one hell of a screwed up system that causes a person on a fixed income to choose between paying for food and getting the medication they need.

My brother Bob is doing clinicals for a Masters in Nursing with a physician in the Conway area. He says that this doctor, who Bob describes as a kind and caring physician, is constantly forced to prescribe drugs he thinks a particular patient can afford instead of what he thinks will work the best. Bob says he sees this every day.

And guess what? The strain on the system will only get worse once the baby boomer generation starts retiring and more people are supported by fewer wage earners.

Me, I'm lucky. I've got good insurance that I can carry with me when I retire. As bad as I feel now I know I will be better soon. But can't we do better by the folks that brought us into this world?

I went to the bookstore this morning to get some magazines. The lady at the counter asked me if I was sick. When I told her I was, she said that she thought so because she hadn't seen me running in the neighborhood. I told her that my goal was to walk to the church and back tomorrow.

Me, I'm lucky. That's the biggest problem I have. That and my hips hurt.

Fakery

Here's a strange little story in today's NY Times about the widower of an obscure British pianist named Joyce Hatto passing off recordings of other artists as those of his late wife's. Not real bright seeing as how the technology exists to sniff out this kind of fraud.

This sort of thing is not completely unheard of in the music world. After all, Handel was widely known as a plagiarist in his day. But this kind of fakery is generally the province of the visual arts and antiques.

Hit the link to read all about it:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/27/arts/music/27hatt.html?ref=music

He's Not Dead?

I was told to take the flu shot back in September seeing as how I am now allegedly in a "high risk" category due to the fact that the armada of docs hovering over me discovered I have asthma. Despite all of this prophylaxis, I have been struck down with the flu.

I'm running @ 100 or so and generally feel like hell. I took a walk around the block to get some fresh air and shuffled like an old man. And I mean no disrespect to old men. Older than me even. A doctor buddy called in anti-virals after I couldn't get anybody that was allegedly covering for my treating physician to call me back. More on that later.

Anyway, frail Lilly that I am, I spent the day reading. I read the piece below in GQ about George Clinton. My buddy PM hates GQ.

Or is it Esquire? I forget.

Anyway, is George Clinton a genius, nuts or what? We report. You decide. But I think he's nuts.

Hit the link. Bring me some chicken soup. I don't ask for much.



http://men.style.com/gq/features/landing?id=content_5307

My Sunday Feeling

I have only been to Florida once and I enjoyed myself very much. Of course, I had gone to Florida merely to play golf. I did not travel to the Sunshine State to attempt to cast my vote in an honest election. Nor did I go over there to litigate a case before "Judge" Larry Seidlin. I don't think I would have enjoyed myself very much if I had been forced to do either.

For those of you who have been living in a tree the past week or so, Larry Seidlin (pictured hereinabove weeping from the bench as he read his decision in the case) was the presiding judge in the ostensibly serious case concerning who would be the proper party to take custody of the body of Anna Nicole Smith.

There has been a lot written about Seidlin's thoroughly ridiculous demeanor in the courtroom and I won't add much to what has already been said. Except that I liked celebrity criminal lawyer Roy Black's comment that he would have said that Judge Seidlin had turned the case into a circus but that " I sort of think it gives circuses a bad name."

Look, I'm depressed enough as it is. I didn't think that a steady diet of this man's turning what on paper should have been an exceedingly solemn proceeding into an ego-driven fiasco would much improve matters in that regard. So I didn't watch just a whole lot of it. But I saw enough to arrive at 3 conclusions.

1) Anna Nicole Smith had a serious substance abuse problem. There was much testimony about her using aliases to get narcotics from different physicians. There was a video of her taken about a month before she gave birth to her daughter. She was inexplicably wearing clown makeup. She was slurring her words. Alleged husband Howard K. Stern can be heard asking her if she was "on mushrooms." He later testified that he was joking.

Right.

2) Speaking of Mr. Stern, from what I can tell, he is about as repellent a human I have seen in a courtroom since Orenthal James Simpson. Some witnesses you just don't believe. It's a vibe they give off. Or as a female friend in Texas who reads the blog put it more succinctly, " He is definitely a creep. But you don't get to run around like she did and pick up Dobie Gillis right?" I guess not. In any event, as far as I could tell, the only time he flat out told the truth after stating his name for the record was when he admitted that, although he had held himself out as Anna Nicole's attorney, he had not actually practiced law, or done much of anything other than sponge off of Anna Nicole since 2001. Which brings me to my 3rd conclusion.

3) Anna Nicole was poorly served by the men in her life. This is an observation about which my Texas friend wrote "Now there's an understatement." If ever a woman has ever taken up with a more motley collection of bums, enablers and nuts than did Anna Nicole Smith I don't know whoo it is. And what is remarkably sad about the recent furor concerning who might be the biological father of her infant daughter, out of all of the worthies that have come forward to claim paternity, I don't believe I've heard anybody admit to having loved her. That's impossibly sad.

Granted, Anna Nicole was not the brightest bulb on the porch. And you can't disport yourself like she did and expect to wind up with Dobie Gillis. But one would hope that in death Anna Nicole would finally secure the peace and dignity she never found in her ridiculously flamboyant life.

But until she is in the ground, I will continue to bet the under on the "peace and dignity" thing.

And now, here's a special announcement! My buddy in North Carolina obviously has too much time on his hands and has taken up the dark practice of blogging. Trust me. This is going to be good. Really good.

Go to http://polycarpblog.blogspot.com/ and see for yourself. I will add him to this space once I remember how to do it. Actually, when my new computer is delivered next week, my buddy PM will come over and show me how to pimp this space in exchange for drinks of whiskey.

Enjoy!

Take That, Eh?

The good folks at hockeyfights.com have preserved footage of the brawl between the Ottawa Senators and the Buffalo Sbres which took place a couple of nights ago. This is a pretty good melee even by hockey standards.

Hit the link. It won't hit back.

Good day.

http://www.hockeyfights.com/fights/31792

My Sunday Feeling

I had not talked to Miss June in awhile, probably not since Christmas when her daughter was in town. Besides, it was Valentine's Day. That seemed as good a reason as any to give her a ring.

" Hi, Miss June." I said when she answered. " Happy Valentine's Day!"

" Ohhhh.." she replied. "Aren't you sweet to call. How are you?"

" Doing great. Cannot complain."

" I hear sounds. Are you in your car?"

" Ummm, yes ma'am. I am. Why?"

" Well, why don't you call me back when you get home honey? That's dangerous."

" Oh don't worry. I have my Bluetooth in. I have both hands on the wheel."

That was true so long as I wasn't taking a sip from the gin and tonic I had on board. But she didn't need to know that.

" So how's it going?" I asked.

" Not too badly. " she said. " I'm doing pretty good for 80. I still can pretty much do as I please. I just don't get to it as quickly as I once did. And I still try to get out and around. I go out with my lady friends once a week. That's always fun."

" Good for you! That's important."

" And I have a man friend."

" Oh yeah?"

" I didn't say BOY friend. He's a man who is my friend."

" You don't have to explain anything to me Miss June."

" I mean, I spent the last 50 some odd years talking to a man every day. I love my lady friends and there's more of us at this stage of our lives than there are men."

"Um-hmm..."

" But I don't want to talk to women all the time. So I have a man friend who I talk to on the phone a couple of times a week."

" I think that's just great. Really I do."

" But I want you to understand that he's not a boyfriend. He's a "

" I know. He's a man friend. So what else is going on?"

" Not much. Like I said I try to stay busy around here. Won't be long until it's time to get the yard and the garden ready. I still have all of those pictures of Oather up on the wall. I say 'good morning' to him every morning and I say 'good night' to him every night. The way I look at it they need to stay up as he's the first thing I do in the morning and the last thing I do before I turn in. You probably think that's crazy."

" I absolutely do not! I think those pictures should stay up as long as you want them to stay up. As long as they comfort you, I wouldn't give it a second thought."

"Really?"

"Really."

" So, tell me. What are you doing tonight?"

"Not much. Probably going to throw some stuff on the grill. Probably going to watch some hoops."

" Isn't it late to be eating, Son?"

"Hell, June. It's 7:15. I'll probably eat around eight."

" That's too late for me. If I eat too late I don't sleep good."

"What time do you eat your dinner?"

"I dunno. Three or Four."

"OK. Now THAT'S crazy."

At this point I needed to jump off.

"Hey, this has been great but I have to go now." I said.

"Are you back home?" she asked.

"No ma'am. I am at the liquor store."

" Lord, you beat all, Son. You beat all."

"So I've heard. You have a good evening, Miss June."

" You too, honey. You know what?"

"What?"

"It was awfully sweet of you to remember an old lady."

" Nah...I'm just hoping you will cut Judy out of the will and put me in it. I can rewrite that for ya you know."

"You beat all, you know that?"

I have a Roman Catholic friend who has battled cancer of the brain for the past 4-5 years. He and I have good talks about many things. He has a perspective that is obviously unique and I find his insights useful at this stage of my life as I have some things on my mind nowadays. Anyway, he has says that our lives are "but a flicker" and that we should strive during our brief time here to live our lives in such a way that is most meaningful both to ourselves and to others rather than in just in pursuit of money.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with an nice old lady cultivating new friends. We can't have too many friends in this life regardless of our age. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with her starting and ending each remaining day that the Lord lends her with that dear face on the wall.

Unless the Hindus are right, this is our one and only trip. You've got to find yourself some peace and it is up to you to find it. Because life is but a flicker.

When You're Hot You're Hot

I eat a lot of peanut butter. Or I did until recently when I learned that Peter Pan had recalled a zillion jars of product it had shipped that was tainted with salmonella bacteria. Naturally, being the thrifty sort of person that I am I bought two jars when the local grocery had them on sale for 2 for 5 bucks. This is the kind of luck I typically am plagued with in matters of finance and love. I can usually leave my paranoia in the grocery store parking lot.

This is a luxury I will permit myself no longer. I don't know about you but under these facts I find scant comfort in the fact that these jars were each adorned with tamper proof seals. After all, we wouldn't want anybody coming along and trying to adulterate the product now would we?

Salmonella in peanut butter... Next thing you know, they will try to tell us that fluoridation of water is good for us.

The Nolan Speaks

Hit the link below for the thoughtful and nuanced thoughts of Nolan Richardson on the retirement of Frank Broyles and the attendant mess up there in Hogland.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nonw4MN8VRc

A Simile Even Wally Hall Wouldn't Use

FSN's Marques Johnson on tonight's brickfest between Stanford and Washington: " This looks like a shooting contest between Stevie Wonder and Jose Feliciano."

Of course, Wally wouldn't use it because he probably has never heard of Jose Feliciano.

Addendum

I apologize for the fact that today's musings appear as one long run-on sentence. I don't know if the insertion of the picture is the cause, but for some reason Blogger refused to save the post with the usual spaces for paragraphs.

It is better than it was before Google bought it but Blogger is still pretty clunky at times. Sorry!

Goodbye Norma Jean

I have been on the road the last couple of days so I have had the chance to think about the tumultuous life of Anna Nicole Smith. Besides, there's only so much ESPN Radio that even I can listen to.

I described her earlier on in this space as "a completely useless woman" and I will not much back off from that characterization. However, upon reflection, I felt that when this uniquely American story is looked upon in light of some of her contemporaries in the world of celebrity, the life of Anna Nicole can at least be described as benign. Not everybody in what passes for her peer group can make that claim.

Where to begin? So much of this woman's life defies description. So let's just jump right in.

First of all, what of her marriage to the late billionaire J. Howard Marshall who became obsessed with her after seeing her perform at a Houston strip club? He was in his eighties when they married. When he died he left her approximately 500 million dollars in his will, a devise that has been the subject of hotly contested litigation in State and Federal Court. As you might imagine, J. Howard Marshall's son portrayed her as an abject gold-digger which she has always denied.

Was she a gold-digger? Of course she was. It is laughable to believe that Anna Nicole could be attracted to an octogenarian that wasn't loaded. However, the Federal Judge that presided over the portion of this Gordian Knot that wound up over before him viewed the relationship charitably if not entirely sympathetically.

"[T]heir lives were intertwined in need, and driven by greed and lust." wrote United States District Judge David Carter in the case of Marshall vs. Marshall. " She cherished the protection and security he afforded her and the lavish gifts that he gave to her in order to win over her affection. J. Howard used his money to get Vickie (Anna Nicole used her legal name of Vickie in the litigation) to fall in love with him, and in her own way, Vickie loved J. Howard."

In her own way Vickie loved J. Howard. Not exactly Robin Givens and Mike Tyson is it?

Speaking of litigation, this is the first time in the history of family law that 3 different guys have stepped up and admitted paternity. Of course, when parenthood comes with the potential of playing half a billion dollars for the use and benefit of Anna Nicole's infant daughter

Dannielynn, the woods may soon be full of putative babydaddies before it is over.

Anna Nicole was as crude and vulgar as American junk culture itself, her blond mane and what has been referred to as a "pneumatic" figure propelling her to fame and fortune far beyond what may reasonably be expected out of a high school dropout from Mexia, Texas. Vulgar she was, but her vulgarity was a caricature based on Marilyn Monroe whom she sought to emulate. There were no videos of her having sex floating around on the Internet, claims that cannot be made by her equally useless counterparts Paris Hilton and Pamela Anderson. And unlike the even trashier Britney Spears, Anna Nicole was usually fully, if immodestly, clothed when she went out on the town.

Anna Nicole never assaulted anybody. Kobe Bryant can't say that. O. J. Simpson can say it but nobody with a half a grain of common sense could possibly believe it. She had her troubles with booze and drugs. But, unlike Courtney Love, nobody ever accused Anna Nicole of shooting heroin during a pregnancy.

Finally, Anna Nicole Smith deserves some measure of sympathy for no other reason than the tragic circumstances surrounding her untimely demise. I don't mean to imply that her passing leaves much of a void in world. Anna Nicole will be with us as long as there are drag queens. But anytime a mother leaves behind her an infant, it may fairly be considered tragic.

Further, her 20 year old son Daniel died of a drug overdose 3 days after the birth of his half-sister. While the cause of her death has yet to be determined some suspect that Anna Nicole met the same fate. She was said to be beyond despair over the loss of her son. Who knows? Anna Nicole was not particularly stable under laboratory conditions. Combine a history of drug abuse with grief and throw in some post-partum depression on the side and you have a surefire prescription for disaster.

Anna Nicole Smith's life was an absolute train wreck. She died a caricature of herself as if that is possible. She leaves behind a potentially limitless estate and a generation of unresolved litigation.

But as completely useless though she was, she was not the worst of her kind. She was benign. That's not much of an epitaph, but that's a better claim than Paris Hilton can make.

Lisa Nowak Catches A Break

Anna Nicole Smith died today in a hotel in Hollywood, Florida. Hit the link below to read an excerpt of what the Federal District Court Judge who ( I believe) reversed the Bankruptcy Judge's determination that federal jurisdiction took precedence over state probate proceedings (Anna was in a bankruptcy at this point in time).

Perhaps the most amazing aspect of this completely useless woman's life, more amazing than how much money she was able to extract from an old man with more money than sense, and more amazing than the fact that she had more than her fifteen minutes of fame as a Playboy "Playmate of the Year" which she parlayed into a stint modelling blue jeans, is the fact that this pissing match made it all the way to the Supreme Court of the United States. And they ultimately ruled in her favor thereby settling a highly technical point of bankruptcy law.

I doubt that Anna Nicole understood the first damn thing about her case. I doubt many lawyers would either. Is this a great country or what?

BTW, I am writing this from Tunica. Tomorrow I will attend the Mid-South Bankruptcy Institute seminar which will be held at the Gold Strike Casino. No lie. Like I said, is this a great country or what?

7 come 11 and all that.

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/0208071smith1.html

The Man Gets Open

To my knowledge, this the first NBA player to extricate himself from the closet. John Amaechi was a damn good player in college and a serviceable pro.

One of these days, an active male player in some professional sport is gonna come out. Or get outed. It's inevitable.

Hit the link: http://sports.espn.go.com/nba/news/story?id=2757105

Location, Location, Location

Tiny Hendrix College, founded by a Methodist minister named Tiny Hendrix, made today's New York Times. It looks like the old alma mater is getting into the real estate game. I sure hope they are more successful at this venture then they have been in basketball lately.

Hit the link.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/07/education/07campus.html?ex=1171515600&en=41a441e913e4cdf5&ei=5070

You Think YOUR Partner Is Crazy? I'll Show You Crazy...

Below is a link to the bizarre story about soon to be former astronaut Lisa Nowak who got herself arrested in Florida for attempted murder and kidnapping after she confronted a romantic rival in an airport. Her story and the considerably less flattering mug shot that accompanies same is brought to you courtesy of The Smoking Gun which revels in this kind of stuff.

Just think. At one time this-OK. We're going to say it-Space Cadet was authorized by the government to operate a million dollar piece of machinery. I predict that her life will be rendered considerably less complicated in the long run and that the universe of choices afforded her will be constricted.

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/0206073astronut1.html

I Would Apologize Some More But I'm Late For "Group"

Hit the link for a funny piece in the New York Times about the difference between apologizing and backpedalling.

http://select.nytimes.com/2007/02/06/opinion/06schiff.html?hp

Give Your Nearest Available Equine Christ-Figure A Starlight Mint

Passed along without comment is the following letter that was published in today's Arkansas Democrat-Gazette :

Barbaro Filled Our Need For Hope

For the uncounted numbers of people who mourn the death of Barbaro, I relate to you and sense the network that connects us [to] the loss.

It has been said that some of us, and maybe most of us, seek purity, goodness, innocence and kindness. That we seek an objectified representation of these qualities is pointless and a moot search. But we persist.

When citizens can no longer pin hopes on the leaders of the nation and have experienced unbounded disillusionment, they still continue to hunger for the closest subject to perfection that they can find. Barbero satisfied that hunger, at least for lots of us. He restored our faith that, once in a great while, our ideal appears.

Four years ago, this horse was born and was known buy numbers of people who oversaw his growing up. His existence and his essence came into focus nationally when he prepared for the Kentucky Derby and blew past his competitors to win the race.

He became a tragic hero early in the Preakness race. How many persons felt the pangs of despair as they watched for updates on his condition and blessed the doctors and caregivers who loved and attended the great horse?

We needed Barbaro. He came to us in a time in which we had become saddened and disillusioned. He lifted our spirits. His life pulled from us a pure love for him. My own personal fantasy was to walk to him, unescorted, and offer him a Starlight Mint. I think my heart might have burst with the joy of the encounter.
Lorna Stokenbury Pryor
Fort Smith

I Cannot Make This Stuff Up

Check out the name of the sponsor of this bill to decriminalize marijuana use in New Hampshire.

http://www.keeneequinox.com/home/index.cfm?event=displayArticle&uStory_id=b16db52f-8704-41fb-9008-b9c2bd19964e

My Sunday Feeling

This was the scene at my house last Friday morning. Central Arkansas got a mild dusting of snow and hardly any of the ice predicted the night before. While I was disappointed that we didn't get a "snow day" I was relieved to see that the roads were fairly passable. The older I get-and I am just old enough to preface a sentence with "the older I get"-the more I detest the cold. It didn't used to bother me much at all. But whenever the temperature gauge gets below 30 I start to feel it in what my doctor calls my "tennis shoulder." I can barely raise my hand above it the past week or so. I hope it loosens up during the Spring thaw. Also, my nose hurts in the places where it has been broken.

Still, I insist on getting out in it as long as there's no ice on the ground. My ribs still hurt from when I slipped on the ice just before Christmas 2 years ago. (I forgot about them. I don't know how I could forget that old injury when I was setting out my litany of woe. Between my ribs and my shoulder I hardly slept last night. ) But while I don't walk or run when there's ice on the ground, I will bundle up and get down the road as long as the temperature is above 30 or so.

The Super Bowl will be televised later on today. I am having some friends over. We will have barbecued chicken, ribs and I don't know what all else. I am providing the chicken, the ribs, Dixie beer and two televisions. Everybody else can bring what they like. I enjoy cooking and I also enjoy having folks over. It'll be a good time.

As for the game itself, I pretty much don't care and I really don't pay much attention if any to all the pre-game bullshit. I had lunch with a friend last Friday. Sherri, an otherwise imminently sensible woman, was telling me about some of the accounts of the interminable player interviews in the local paper. My eyes glazed over. She's really into it. I don't get it.

I know I usually write about the Super Bowl but for some reason I just can't bring myself to get too interested in it this year. Maybe it's because the Saints got clobbered in the NFC title game by the Bears. I don't know. But as one of my friends used to say, "As long as they are putting it on we might as well watch the goddamned thing." What the hell. It'll be an excuse to eat and drink. Us guys will nod and offer sage pronouncements about the action. The women will enjoy the commercials. There are worse ways to spend a cold Sunday in the People's Republic of Hillcrest.

As long as they are gonna put it on, we might as well watch it. Beats busting your ass on the ice in any event.

EDITORIAL COMMENT: Last week, I received three or four messages regarding the story in the Onion about Barbaro receiving a State funeral that I posted here. These people thought it was real. This says a couple of things to me. First, not everybody has heard of the satirical magazine The Onion. Secondly, it kind of points out that things are sufficiently screwed up out there in the real world that people can actually believe that not only would the government hold a funeral for a horse but that his remains would be placed in a coffin as depicted by the obviously faked up picture in the story.

So, just in case anybody is wondering the story was a joke. Really.

Barbaro Redux

The Onion pays tribute to the fallen hero. Hit the link.

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/millions_of_americans_travel_to