AWOL

The literary world will once again heave a heavy sigh but there will be no My Sunday Feeling tomorrow as I will be out of town. 

Talk among yourself until I get back. 

Why Would I Lie About That?

I ordered something to eat at the rolling Mexican food place-a taqueria?-outside the wine place I like out in West Little Rock. 

As the kid-maybe 10-was writing down my order he asked me a question.

"Senor, have you ever seen an Anaconda?"

"In person? No."

"They can eat big rats and small dogs even."

" Do I remind you of an Anaconda?"  Could be.  I still hold a license to practice law. 

"No Senor," the kid said.  "I'm just studying them and I think it's interesting. I get bored taking down orders for Mama and I like to talk to customers." 

I told him that was OK and that I would see him in a minute after I had bought my groceries at the liquor store.

When I returned to the rolling restaurant there was a lady standing there looking at the menu on the side of the van.  She is wearing a smock as would a worker in a nursing home or some other useful profession. 

"Excuse me, " she said. " Have you eaten here before?"


"Yeah," I said.  "It's great."

"Well, I live in Southwest Little Rock.  These kind of places are all over there.  They are all good.  "

"Whereabouts?"

"Mabelvale.  Over by the ball park."

" Little Oaks?  Played Little League and Babe Ruth there. Was baptized at Mabelvale United Methodist."

" You're kidding! "

I extend my hand. 

"My name is Paul, ma'am"

"My name is Carla," she says." Your shirt says Hendrix.  You went to Hendrix? And you're from Mabelvale?"

"Yes ma'am," I said. " And my law degree also says I'm from Mablevale, Arkansas."

"Really?"

"Why would I lie about that?"

"Well I guess you wouldn't," she said turning back to the menu. " How are the burritos?"

"Don't know.  Good luck. I bet they're good. I have to go now."

"Nobody's from Mabelvale," she said.  

"Nobody but you and me," was my reply. And I walked away. 

I swear to God this happened tonight. 

My Sunday Feeling

"Sexually attracted, you know, I, I enjoy young people.  I,I, love to be around them.  No, I'm not sexually attracted to little boys." 

Thus was the organ recital Jerry Sandusky gave to Bob Costas last year in response to the simple question of whether he was sexually attracted to little boys. 

You ask me the question "Why do you help out at Miracle League?" you would hear me say, "I enjoy being around the kids."  You ask me if I am sexually attracted to them and you will wake up in the hospital.  But, then again, it's pretty black and white with me and everybody else I associate with. 

The Bob Costas interview was when I, and I suspect the whole sane world, knew that Sandusky was a creep.  He just wasn't a convicted creep at the time. 

He is now, Brother.  Last night the jury came back and convicted him of 45 of 48 counts of sexually assaulting 10 boys over the last 15 years. 

He got off light. 

I understand stealing.  I understand burglary.  I understand cooking the books.  I understand selling drugs.  I wouldn't do those things but I at least have a frame of reference for them. 

I don't get sex offenders.  And I reeeeeaaalllly don't get adults that do kids.  Their brains are deeply unhinged in a way I cannot fathom. 

My friend Peter bought me lunch the other day.  A defendant he was about to sue up and died on him.  He and the lawyer for the decedent's insurer moved the Court to have me named as Special Receiver for Service of Process or some shit.  For this he was buying me lunch.  I work cheap. 

Anyway, I had expressed my exasperation as to why Sandusky was evidently hell-bent on going to trial.  As the old saying goes in the criminal world, when you get charged with that many offenses of the same nature, "Boy, you know you done at least one of them." Same here.  Why drag yourself and your family through the shame and degradation?  Why cruelly force these young men to relive these unspeakable acts?  Especially when you know you "done at least one of them."

Peter is an old prosecutor and he still does a little criminal defense.  Mostly of the knucklehead variety.  Peter's take on it was interesting.

"Here's the deal with child molesters Pablo," he said. " in the fucked up way Sandusky's brain operates, he probably doesn't think he did anything all that bad.  He probably thinks he helped those kids out more than he hurt them.  Anybody who is that delusional probably thinks that the jury will see it his way." 

Which, as it turned out, was crazy. 

And now there will be hell to pay.  Sandusky will spend the rest of his life in isolation.  This could be a long time depending on whether he accidentally runs across the wrong con.  One who has nothing to lose.  Or he may kill himself.  He supposedly is on "suicide watch." This is not surprising.  There must be nothing worse for a man with such juvenile and twisted ego needs to have limits placed on his behavior. 

The former athletic director and another official are charged with perjuring themselves before the Grand Jury.  The FBI is poking around as is the United States Department of Education.  Penn State will get sued as will Joe Paterno's estate.  The new President and Athletic Director will get to spend the next couple of years in the company of lawyers. 

"Happy Valley" indeed. 

If there is any lesson to be taken away from this exceedingly sordid and heartbreaking tale it is that there are monsters among us in all walks of life.  They burrow into otherwise good and honorable professions.  They are clergy.  They are teachers.  They are coaches.  As a society, we have to be hyper vigilant about their presence among us.  And we should give aid and sustained comfort to their victims.  We should applaud their bravery when they name names and give voice to the unspeakable horror visited upon them. 

In short, we should never forget that this can happen again.  Because there are monsters among us.  Monsters like Jerry Sandusky who rightly figured that the system would give him a pass because it did for years. 

As for me and my friends at Miracle League?  Yeah.  We like to be around the kids.

And we can't let the Jerry Sanduskys of this world ruin it for us. 

Want to make something of it?

My Sunday Feeling

Could there have been anything more heart-rending than the testimony of the young men at the trial of former Penn State Defensive Coordinator Jerry Sandusky who is charged with molesting numerous young boys? The witnesses, now adults, bravely, and at great emotional cost to themselves, took the stand and described in vivid and graphic detail what Sandusky is accused of doing to them when they were kids.

The prosecution put Mike McQueary on the stand last week to testify about what he saw one night in the shower in the Penn State locker room.  McQueary was an assistant coach there at the time.  He testified that he saw Sandusky raping a young boy.  He said that he slammed a locker door hard to let Sandusky know he was there.  But that's all that he did.

"Physically, [I] didn't physically remove the young boy from the shower or punch Jerry out," he testified. 

Why not?

"I was extremely frustrated and flushed," he testified. "Once I saw them separated, it's safe to assume I assumed it was over.  I've said repeatedly I didn't do anything to stop it.  Its been well publicized."

My buddy Don asked a pretty simple question.  Again, why not?

McQueary's not a bad guy.  He reported the incident to Head Coach Joe Paterno who, following protocol advised the Athletic Director.  He then told his story to the Athletic Director and the Vice President in charge of the campus police.  Who did nothing.  Anybody that got hurt by Sandusky after the incident in the shower that night, that's not on McQueary.

The sporting press has been full of arm chair psychology about that night in the locker room.  Most of them don't fault McQueary for not intervening because "none of us know what we would do if we were in the same position as he."

Which is bullshit.  I know what I would have done.  Don knows what he would have done.  And nobody has ever mentioned either of us alongside the phrase "physical bravery."

You pull the attacker off the kid.  You tell the kid to run.  If the attacker fights you, well, bad for you.  Most likely if McQueary had intervened Sandusky would have run away.  Fine.  The cops would have known where to find him.  You get a towel or blanket to cover the kid.  You comfort him without touching him and you assure him that he is safe.  You don't touch him to let him know that you are different than the bad man that hurt him.  You also don't touch him because his body is basically a crime scene and he will have to be examined by a doctor with a rape kit. 

And you call 911.  You frigging call 911. 

It is a no-brainer to me.  And it is a no-brainer to just about anybody I know.

Meanwhile, back in Court, Sandusky's lawyers won a ruling that will let them put on an expert who will testify that Sandusky has a "histrionic personality disorder." Their theory, as I understand it, is that the disorder caused him to seek the affection and companionship of young boys while not necessarily grooming them to be victims of molestation.  Talk about your thin lines.

Well, I'm not exactly Mr. Criminal Defense Lawyer but gooooood luck with that.  The problem with such "diminished capacity" defenses is that they are rarely successful.  And that's because they are interposed to explain a defendant's behavior.  In other words, since they can't refute the facts, they will use this in an attempt to explain away the facts.  As I have said, "good luck."

But what the hell.  From what I can tell they don't have much else going for them. It's not like he has an alibi. It's not like it's normal for a grown man to shower with young boys. It's not like they can put Sandusky on the stand.  He's too stupid and squirrelly to stand up to cross-examination.

But who cares about him? 

This whole sorry situation represents a massive institutional failure on the part of Penn State University to protect the weak and the vulnerable.  It is easily the worst scandal to have visited college sports.

And I will have to believe that Mike McQueary will kick himself all the way to the grave because he didn't "punch Jerry out."

My Sunday Feeling

Yesterday was Mother's Birthday.  I'm thinking that she would have been 86 or 87.  But I don't recall what year she was born.  I almost forgot her birthday altogether but  my friend Jennifer was kind enough to remind me and to tell me she was thinking of me.  That was nice.  She didn't have to do that.  I am always grateful for small kindnesses extended my way.  I seem to get a lot of them and I am not at all sure that I deserve half of  what I get.

I have been getting a few "How are you doing?" type messages and there are a lot of kind posts on Facebook.  Again, my life is abundant with small kindnesses.  And I am grateful for each one.  So.  How am I doing?  This is how I'm doing.  Pretty good. I've lived a lot of life in the last couple of years.  Some good, some not so good.  But we are on a definite upward arc. 

Granted, yesterday had a strange feel to it.  It wasn't sad exactly.  Rather, it was-for lack of any other phrase that I can someone forth right now-sweetly poignant.  It wasn't grief and it wasn't nostalgia.  It was somewhere at the intersection between the two.  I guess her birthday provided me with the occasion to look back at the last years of her life and to reflect upon how much I time I spent taking care of her, paying her bills, driving her to the doctor and visiting with staff.  Sometimes it felt like a second job.

And even though toward the end of her life as the dementia more fully engulfed her mind Mother didn't know the difference between her birthday and Easter Sunday, I always went to see her on her birthday.  Typically, I would bring her flowers.  Mother loved flowers and I would never cease to marvel at how, though she occasionally didn't fully appreciate just who had borne her the flowers she held in her hand, she could name each of the various ones.  Pretty much up until the end her love of flowers remained hard wired in her head.

And I say all of this by long winded way of explaining that it feels odd not to be able to wish my Mother a happy birthday.  Christmas-who cares?-and Mother's Day was almost as big a pain in the ass as Valentine's Day.  And the day of her death the last two Decembers didn't really affect me all that much. She suffered greatly. Death, under the circumstances, is merciful. But not being able to wish somebody a happy birthday on this day really has bothered me.

I discovered yesterday on Facebook (where else?) that my Baptist preacher golfing buddy shares a birthday with my Mom.  I am not an overly sentimental man and I am not typically given over to magical thinking.  But I find it oddly comforting that I still have somebody I can celebrate this day with.  Maybe it is because we humans find comfort and meaning in symbols and rituals.  Hey, it's worked for the Catholics, Episcopalians and Orthodox for centuries. 

Or maybe it's because when you are little birthdays are really big deals and remain thus until after you can drive a car and/or legally buy a drink.  And your Mom always made a cake and invited your friends over.  In any event, why fight it?

As you may recall, my friend Michele has recently joined me in the Motherless Adults club. It was in that vein yesterday that she suggested that I get a piece of cake and in that way celebrate Mom's life. This is why I love Michele Walter.  Because buying a piece of cake would have never occurred to me in a million years.  As Michele said, "That's what I'm here for."  Again, a kindness bestowed.

I don't have much of a sweet tooth.  I have a gin tooth.  But I used to take Mother oatmeal cookies from Starbucks.  They are soft and Mother could tear them with her hands and swallow them easily.  I would take one for me and one for her. And we would eat them together in her room at the nursing home.  So yesterday I bought myself an oatmeal cookie from Starbucks in remembrance of my Mom.

Happy Birthday, Mother!  And Happy Birthday, Randy!

And thank God for small kindnesses. 

My Sunday Feeling

There are times when events occur that makes one wonder whether they are a by-product of the national zeitgeist or whether they are more accurately understood instead as mere localized stupidity. 

Last week, a 4 year old Mormon boy-or more accurately a little boy born of Mormon parents-was denied admission to pre-school (I guess) at Little Rock Christian Academy.  The parents were upset and went to the press.  The reporter interviewed a member of the Board.  A lady named Carla Emanuel, who evidently is of some prominence socially seeing as how her picture coincidentally graced the cover of a local magazine the same time as the interview took place.

"It's very, very sneaky when people come in especially in elementary and junior high grades where the kids are [sic] very influenced.  It's frightening how quickly things can get turned around," she said. "They are called to do that, which is fine.  But then start a Mormon school,"  she said.

And if we need further proof that Ms. Emanuel does not possess a "Gee, Maybe I Better Shut Up" alarm in her head, she went on make the informed and theologically nuanced observation that "I don't believe they ("they" being the Mormons we may safely assume) will go to Heaven."

A more paranoid and profoundly stupid remark can scarcely be imagined.  Don't believe me?  Then let us parse it further. 

"It's very, very sneaky when people come in..." What's sneaky about it?  I'm sure the kid's parents filed an application with the school just like everybody else.  They evidently didn't lie on the application either. And what "people" are she referring to?  She didn't mention the Mormons by name.  Jews have historically been accused of sneakiness.  Or maybe she doesn't like Unitarians. 

And it is evidently the height of sneakiness when "people" try to come in to "elementary and junior high grades where the kids are [sic]very influenced."  But that's not what happened here.  The kid was trying to get into pre-school. While it is not uncommon for paranoids to get their facts wrong, this one, like Barack Obama not really being born in the United States, is not even close. 

"It's frightening how quickly things can get turned around." Really?  Has it ever happened before? Did the kids at LRCA start making reference en masse to the "Holy Ghost" and asking for martinis for breakfast the last time an Episcopalian child was admitted there?  And are they so insecure about their own faith out there that the presence of a 4 year old Mormon is a threat?

And finally, "They are called to do that, which is fine. But then start a Mormon school."  I assume she means that Mormons are called to proselytize.  Which is not only "fine"it's true.  But again, the kid in question is 4.  Even Jesus didn't confound the Elders in the Temple until he was older.

Now the question I had momentarily is whether the kerfuffle over at LRCA has anything to do with the larger question burning its way through some quarters as to whether Mormonism (for lack of a better word) is so outside the stream of American religious experience that it will hurt Mitt Romney politically.  There are a considerable number of people that do not believe that Mormons are Christians.  Or as noted theologian Carla Emanuel put it, they ain't going to Heaven.  That would be 6 million of them in the United States alone.  Each and every one of them consigned to Perdition by a member of the Board at LRCA. 

I may be wrong but I don't believe that I know any Mormons. If I do, they have chosen, much to my considerable relief, to keep it to themselves. But I can certainly believe that they are Christians if for no other reason than they tend to display outward and visible signs of the faith such as hard work, thrift, devotion to family, clean and moral living and charity. However, I also fully believe that Joseph Smith was a con artist of the first water who was in it for the money and the chicks as much as anything.  And while I am exceedingly tolerant of the religious persuasions of others, I find some Mormon beliefs such as baptism by proxy and how Smith came to receive the revelation from the Angel Moroni to be utter hooey.  Finally, while I probably don't think of end time theology very much, I can say that I do not believe for 5 minutes that the Second Coming of Jesus will occur in Missouri. 

But being a Mormon doesn't disqualify Mitt Romney from the highest office in the land because the Constitution forbids a religious test for Public Office, although you wouldn't know it from the debate during the Republican primaries.  And I believe upon further reflection that the recent unpleasantness here in town has little to do with the larger national debate.  From what little we know now, it is just a local bit of ugliness.

Mitt Romney's faith does not disqualify him from the Presidency.  But it evidently would disqualify his grand kids from admittance to Little Rock Christian Academy.   

White Stones-Memorial Day 2012 at the VA Cemetery in Little Rock.

My Sunday Feeling

My friend Michele joined the club yesterday.  It's a club nobody wants to join but can't avoid.  Michele's Mother died yesterday.  Her Mom was only 58. Which means she had to have been pretty young when her daughter made her debut on this planet. 

I have known Michele for-what?-15 years or so by now.  I first met her when I allegedly assisted her and DOJ's Environmental Defense Section in a couple of wetlands cases back in the late Nineties. A tall thin Nebraskan, we hit it off immediately primarily over our shared love of beer and sports.  She and I have kept up over the years.  This is despite the fact that she thinks I should go vegan like her. And she"s kind of a pain in the ass about it.   

My favorite story-or one of them anyway- about her is when the devastating tornadoes came through downtown Little Rock in 2002 or so.  She called me the first thing the morning after to see if I was OK.  I assured her that I was fine and I told her how much I appreciated the call.

"I lived in a trailer park when I was little," she said, "I know how scary tornadoes can be."

While it is true that only in America can a person go from a trailer park to the Department of Justice, it is equally true that Michele's trip was made easier by the loving example of  her Mom. 

She talked about her Mom a lot.  Which brings me to another Michele story.  She approved of my participation in Miracle League which for the uninitiated is a baseball league for disabled people.  Michele's mom coached her softball team.

"Heck," she told me.  Like I said, she is from Nebraska.  She says "heck" a lot. "We had disabled kids on the team. Mom insisted on letting them play." Which was pretty unusual twenty something years ago.

This is an interesting time of life.  More of my friends are now joining me in the club as we say farewell to our parents.  I have recently said goodbye to one of my best friends.  There will be others as year succeeds to year as the old hymn goes.

They say losing a Mother is the hardest.  I don't know about that.  That may be romantic nonsense.  Losing my Mom was not traumatic in the sense that my mother suffered greatly.  Death put an end to that.  And our relationship, especially in the last 10 years of her life, was that of guardian-ward as much as anything.  So I don't miss her as a parent or as a companion.  But I find myself thinking of her from time to time.  And I still kick myself over some ways that I feel that I did not serve her as well as I might have.  I don't think that will ever end.  At least not until they stick my earthly remains in the wall at the Methodist church down the road. 

It will be far harder on Michele.  I don't know what happened but her Mother's death was unexpected.  And she didn't just lose a parent.  She lost a young Mother, her best friend and "everyone's 2nd Mom" as she put it on Facebook.  One doesn't easily get over that level of heartbreak.  Not easily at all. 

I tried to call her but the message went to voice mail.  The text that followed a little later said, " Plane just landed and got your voice mail.  Will be in touch soon.  I love you too."

You know where to find me Honey.  And welcome-I guess- to the club.  You can come sit right here by me.  I want to hear more stories about your Mom. 

My Sunday Feeling

As some of you may recall, financial matters interest me. It's not that I have any money to speak of.  I am not a wealthy man by any stretch of the imagination.  But I can meet the bankruptcy code's definition of solvency.  It's not much.  But I can do it. 

Like many people, I just kinda fell into what became my life's work.  I got hired right before the bankruptcy lawyer left.  Hence, I became the bankruptcy lawyer.  And I practiced bankruptcy law for many years.  I have litigated with and against various lending institutions.  Over time, I came to develop a keen interest in how individuals and institutions make decisions about money and finance.  This is partially why a local consumer group with a highly alliterative name hired me as a consultant. 

As the line in the song by Adele goes, "People are crazy.  People say crazy things."  They especially say crazy things about money and taxes.  Especially during an election year.  Just a couple of weeks ago my friend Jennifer felt led to render a disquisition on Facebook about tax policy, of all goddamn things, for lack of a better title.  While it is not known what set her off specifically, she was in high dudgeon against the nutbar notion that "Taxation is Theft."

And she rightly pointed out that while we are all entitled to our opinion in this regard, the government has to pay for police, and filling potholes and raising armies etc somehow.  These things have to be done.  Most of the police powers of the states and towns cannot be privatized.  The good and useful things that are necessary for our security and for domestic tranquility are paid for by our taxes.  Indeed, I started to join her discussion by quoting Oliver Wendell Holmes's (I think it was) famous dictum that "Taxes are the price we pay for civilization."  But she was on a roll and I have learned to stay out of her way at these times.

In his column Thursday about the Euro crisis, particularly as it pertains to Greece. the New York Times's Paul Krugman made an observation about the difference between the Euro crisis and the financial meltdown of our own.  (By the way, the chapter on Greece in Michael Lewis's excellent book about about the global financial crisis called "Boomerang" is entitled "They Invented Math.")It's pretty simple.  A retiree in Florida was still getting her Social Security checks and still had access to Medicare despite the fact that our economy had gone to hell in a bucket.  Her Greek counterpart has no such  assurance from her government.  Here's the column here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/18/opinion/krugman-apocalypse-fairly-soon.html?hp

I hadn't really thought about it precisely in those terms.  But he is correct.  Most people in this country still believe that there is some sort of social contract between the government and you and me.  When I call 911, I expect somebody to answer.  I expect the police or the fire department to come.  I expect to have my garbage picked up.  Pick your favorite service. That's because I pay taxes so that government can provide these services.

Here's another angle.  Greeks are starting to withdraw their money from the banks.  It's not a full blown run on the banks yet.  Krugman refers to it as more of a "jog" on the banks. A jog on the banks would not even happen in this country.  A run on a bank is the nightmare scenario.  That is why the FDIC tries to take a over failing bank long before folks start showing up with suitcases and pillowcases seeking to withdraw all the cash they have on deposit.  The FDIC takes it over.  Sends the Officers packing and opens the bank the day after it is put into receivership.  Representatives are there to reassure the depositors that their money is safe.  And thus the crisis is typically averted.

Although the banks pay a fee for FDIC insurance, when it comes down to it the depositors' money is backed by the Full Faith and Credit of the United States Government.  I wouldn't trust the government, such as it is, of Italy with a wet match.  Isn't guaranteeing the stability of the banking system a cultural good in and of itself?  And let's leave the latest debacle with JP Morgan out of it.  JP Morgan can handle a 5 billion dollar hickey.  Indeed, its stock will probably head South which will create what is referred to in the investment game as a "buying opportunity."  Ironic, non?

My larger point is this.  We are going to hear lots of crazy things about money and taxes in the months to come.  Arguments concerning government programs and the what constitutes the wisest use of tax proceeds have been around since Alexander Hamilton floated debt obligations to fund the Revolutionary Army.  Twas ever thus. 

But taxation isn't theft.  It's the price we pay to keep the Social Security checks going through hell and high water.  It's the price we pay to take banks away from idiots.  It is the price we pay for democracy.  It's the price we pay for not being Greece, Italy and Spain. 

And to you stalwarts that spout what the Internet informs you was written by Ayn Rand, you recipients of regularly delivered mail who evidently expect water to magically appear when you turn the tap, to you I ask, "This is a bad thing, how?"

Did You Hear The One About Why Jewish Husbands Die Young?

So the nice lady running the Jewish Wedding booth at today's Jewish Food Festival asks me, "Tell me Sir.  What do you think the young groom is thinking judging from the expression on his face?"  I thought for a moment.  "Oy.  How did I get myself in this situation?" "Correct!" she said.  "Of course, the bride doesn't look too happy either.  I'll try to find a more cheerful couple for next year."

I Gotta Nikon Camera. I Love To Take Photographs At The Farmers Market and FURRS Rummage Sale

My Sunday Feeling

The literary world once again will doubtlessly heave a weary sigh at this news but I am out of here for awhile.  Between alumni stuff, photography stuff, Bourbon and Boots stuff, day job stuff, and work-on-the-house stuff I got way too much to do before I hit the road at the end of the week.

This almost feels like I'm working again.........

Talk among yourselves until I get back.

My Sunday Feeling

Suffice it to say that your life is way too complicated if you a) knocked up a crazy person who was b) on the payroll of your c) campaign for President while you are, of course, d) not only married but e) married to a person who has cancer and is f) every bit as brazenly ambitious as you. 

So, you being g) smarter than everybody h) get your star crossed and weirdly emotionally attached aide Andrew Young to i) get an elderly rich person to funnel your crazy and really troublesome paramour lots of j) $ and you also talk him into k) claiming that your baby is actually his and his wife goes along with it and let's your babymama move in with them which should have l) made you wonder if Mrs. Young is nuts too.

You are eventually outed by the National Enquirer in a m) rare display of actual journalism (think about that for a moment, John) which leaves Andrew with a problem with the IRS because he's been getting all of these checks which might look like n) income to the average auditor.  So naturally, he writes a book about all of this which describes you as an o) vain, preening asshole which by that point is hardly front page news.

Even worse, the Republican US Attorney over there decides to gin up a case against you for p) violating campaign finance laws when the $ got funnelled through weirdly heart broken Andrew to your babymama.  Andrew and babymama get q) immunity for not reporting the $ as r) income! (along with anything else they can think of) and you are s) indicted by the same US Department of Justice that you t) in your boundless arrogance and hubris actually thought you had a shot at u) running. 

Point for you, you may have an actual defense.  But you, being v) a former United States Senator and Presidential contender will have to w) take the stand (and promise to really, really, really tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth) and x) testify! Or your goose is y) cooked.  Because the jury is not going to let you hide behind the 5th Amendment. 

Which leads to the following question z) was that strange really worth all this?

Hell, I'm out of letters of the alphabet.  That's how complicated your goddamn life is. 

You idiot. 

The Very Last Word

I wrote this for the local website "Bourbon and Boots" last week: http://www.bourbonandboots.com/sex-lies-and-razorbacks/

As Warf on Star Trek used to say "We will never speak of this again."  Except to say that the local press is starting to voice similar themes.  Maybe things will change.  Maybe they won't.  We shall see. 

Anyway, you should poke around over there at "Bourbon and Boots."  They've got all kinds of cool stuff there.  Hope you find something you like. 

My Sunday Feeling

I'm sitting this Sunday out.  And the literary world heaves a mournful sigh of relief.  Interesting comments from last Sunday though. 

Vox Populi: The Frustrated Seller

So the man says, " Now, what exactly do you do for those folks?"

"Well," I said. " One of the things I do is I write tips for consumers about financial matters that will eventually go on the Facebook page and the home page."

"Really," he said. "What kinds of tips?"

" What to do if you get behind on your mortgage, what to do if your car gets repossessed......"

"How about 'what to do if you discover at closing that there are a bunch of liens on your house that you didn't know about.' Are you gonna write about that?"

" That one's easy," I said. " Hire a lawyer would be the 'tip'. But maybe I should write one about 'what to do after you lose your buyer.'"

"That would be a good one," he said. "Let me know if you need any help writing that last one.  I just might have some insights that I would be happy to share with you."

My Sunday Feeling

My friend Barbara lives about a half a mile from me.  She has daughters.  I haven't seen the girls in some time.  So I'm guessing high school and junior high. 

Last week Barbara put the following post up on Facebook: "Am I the only one feeling compassion for the young Dorrell girl?"  Which is a really good question.

After all, getting started in life is tough enough without getting one's self embroiled at a tender age in what is easily the most sensational scandal to engulf our little state since Monica and her blue dress.  25 is awfully young to blow up this bad.

But you know what?  I was 25 once.  And I did some awfully stupid things when I was a young person.  Granted, nothing this stupid.  But that was only because of the happy fact that I was, and am still, pretty much nobody.  That, and I never got caught. 

I do not judge Jessica Dorrell when I say that I really don't view her as much of a victim here.  Indeed, the rigged selection process by which she attained her present job, not to mention the 20 grand "gift" she was given by former Coach Petrino could be viewed in a certain light as nothing more than bribes in exchange for her silence.  What she did was wrong.  And the ripple effects of her relationship with Petrino have yet to be fully understood. It is safe to say that this is not going away any time soon.

But a young person such as herself, though fully accountable for her actions, has to be given some sympathy.  When you are young you cannot see the big picture.  You cannot see the end game.  You do not have the requisite life experience to view the gravity of some situations. Indeed, why are we surprised when a young athlete blows a fortune?   We should be more surprised when one actually hangs on to his money.

No doubt, being young and pretty certainly carries with it certain advantages and there is no doubt that Jessica had a great deal of experience with getting hit on.  Still, when the most powerful man in the State of Arkansas takes a shine to you, well, that's enough to turn any young woman's head. 

But I also remember getting a phone call one night in the distant past.  I had just moved back to Little Rock.  A woman I grew up with asked if she could come over for awhile.  R worked for a State agency back then.  She told me that the a State Trooper had just called.  He told her that the Governor wanted to know if she would like to come to the Mansion for a drink.

Guess who we are talking about?

Anyway, she wanted to come hang out with me because she didn't want to be there if the State Police came  knocking on her door to ferry her over to the Governor's Mansion.  R admitted to being flattered.  No doubt.  And curious.  But as she put it to me that night, "Nothing good can come from this.  And if my mother ever found out she would die."  R and I were-what?-26 at the time.

I don't know "the Dorrell girl."  For all I know, she has already retained Gloria Allred who is negotiating the rights to the made-for-TV movie.  For all I know, she is about to pose nude in Playboy.
But I hope this is not the case.  This situation has caused sufficient pain to completely innocent people as it currently stands without her trying to further cash in.

I hope that "the Dorrell girl" now realizes that she should have been more cognizant of what her own mother might think if her affair with Bobby Petrino ever saw the light of day.  And I hope that she is in those arms right now.  If any woman needed her mother right now it's Jessica Dorrell.  25 is awfully young for a life to explode. 

So yeah.  I feel a degree of compassion for her.  She's a kid.  Kids do stupid things.  And so I wish her luck.

Because she is going to need it.  Once you are in the history book, you don't get to come out.

Vox Populi: Tonight's Text Message Banter

PM: Chet's been looking for your ass.  What have you done now?

Me: Gave his wife a ride on my motorcycle.

PM: Figured as much.  Does he know about the text messages?

Me:  Yeah.  He also found out about the 20k she gave me.  That's what really pissed him off.

PM: No doubt.  Hope you don't wind up in a neck brace. 

My Sunday Feeling

I've told this story before.  Bear with me.

Years ago, a friend of mine came to me with a problem.  She had gotten herself involved with a married man who was pretty high up in the food chain at the company where they both worked.  As if this were not sufficiently complicated in and of itself, she was married as well.  They were both separated from their soon-to-be former spouses at the time I visited with her.  But the wife of her lover was not going quietly and had made it plain through her lawyer that her exit would be costly. 

My friend is a very good person.  To look at her, and her quiet unassuming life, you wouldn't have believed that she could get herself in this type of fix.  And yet here she was on my porch swing weeping in her glass of chardonnay as she told me this story.

People have told me all kinds of Godawful stuff out on the porch swing.  I think they tell me stuff because they are secure in the knowledge that it will go no further.  That and I do not judge.  Especially over matters of sexual morality.  We have all done things we are not proud of. 

Likewise do I not judge Arkansas Razorback Bobby Petrino who as the world knows by now admitted to having a "prior inappropriate relationship" with someone.  That someone is likely to be 25 year old Jessica Dorrell, recently promoted by him from within the Athletic Department as his assistant, who was taking a motorcycle ride with Patrino when he wrecked his motorcycle last Sunday.  Petrino lied to to his boss Athletic Director Jeff Long.  He told Long he was riding alone which was dutifully put out in a press release by the UA Athletic Department.  Only the police report clearly stated otherwise.

Which puts Jeff Long in one hell of a fix. 

Now I doubt that Jeff Long, like most bosses, much concerns himself with the sex lives of his employees.  But I also doubt that he would have approved of his highest paid employee carrying on with a) a subordinate who is b) engaged to be married to man who is likewise an employee of the Athletic Department. 

Forget the morality of it.  What kind of parallel universe did Bobby Petrino live in that red flags didn't start going up?  And what possibly made him think that he could get away with an extramarital affair seeing as how he is practically more important if not as least as visible as the damn Governor?

Again, forget the morality of it.  That is between the Petrinos.  That is between Jessica, her fiance and her family.  While I don't think Jessica is a victim, I also don't think that it is a good thing to start your career off in the public eye exposed for sleeping with the boss.  I think it reenforces certain unfortunate stereotypes about attractive young things.  Especially blonde things.

Here's what matters insofar as Petrino's employment relationship is concerned.  What is the appropriate penalty for his having exposed the University of Arkansas to enormous liability under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964?  As the employer Long will have to consider a couple of things.  What if Jessica had called off the affair? Which presumably she at least might have done after consecration of the sacred bonds of matrimony.    And what if Petrino kept hitting on her? 

I defended one of these once.  Or tried to.  It was ugly.  We settled it. 

Here's another wrinkle:  Petrino said he lied to cover up an inappropriate relationship.  Given the context of the lie, we may again assume that the relationship was with Jessica.  She had only been in her new position for a month or so.  Which raises a couple of questions.  Did they start carrying on during the brief time she was his assistant?  Or had this been going on for some time and Bobby managed to hire his clandestine girlfriend?  If I'm Jeff Long, I think a) this is a really sleazy business practice at best and b) a potential can of worms at the worst.  For all we know there could have been 5 people of various races, ages, national origins and religious persuasions who wanted that job. 

"Hired his squeeze" is not a legitimate, non-discriminatory justification for a hiring decision.

Also, what does Long do with Jessica and her fiance?  There would have to be unbearable tension in the workplace.  Does he put her on leave while he sorts this out?  Does he tell the fiance to take a few days off?  The young man has to feel like an idiot.  If he brings Petrino back, what does he do with Jessica that won't get him sued?  What will Jeff Long do the first time he hears his assistant say "Gloria Allred is on line 1 for you?"

You don't pay a man over 3 million a year to cause this kind of a migraine.  Bobby Petrino may not get fired.  But there will be hell for him to pay for causing this mess to fall in Jeff Long's lap.

Which brings me back to my distraught friend.  We were and still are in the habit of exchanging chaste kisses.  And as she was leaving that night she gave me the usual peck on the mouth.

"No," I said. "Give me a good one."

"What?" she said.

"You heard me.  Lay one on me"

She gave a "what the hell" shrug of the shoulders and then proceeded to suck my adenoids out.  After she was finished she stepped back. She crossed her arms.

"Well," she said, "How was that?"

"It was a lot of fun," I said as I checked my front teeth with my thumb.  "But it ain't worth $200,000."

Like I said, I do not judge.  And carrying on with a younger woman is not without its discrete charm.  I've been there.

But I would like to ask Bobby Petrino if he thinks it was worth it.  Bet I know the answer. 

And he hasn't even gotten the final tab yet.

My Sunday Feeling

A friend of mine had tough duty to pull last week.  She had to fire somebody.

She followed all of the rules and jumped through all of the hoops.  She cleared it with HR.  She got the green light from legal.  She had discussed the situation with the employee back in the Fall. Things didn't change. So the course was clear.

I know this woman really well.  She is one of my closest friends and one of my few confidants.  She is a pillar of rectitude.  She is honest to a fault.  She is compassionate and kind.  She is also nine kinds of tough and she is not a ditherer.  When the choice was made plain and stark to her she made haste to get her legal ducks lined up before she did what she had to do.

Because she is such a compassionate woman, she was literally physically ill the morning before she confronted the employee with the bad news.  After all, the employee is not a bad person.  Quite the contrary.  She is a very good person.  And she had been in her position a long time.  But the needs of the organization had changed.  And, unfortunately, the employee's skill set had not.  It just wasn't working out anymore as they say at times like these.

I had to fire somebody once.  I was the President of the Board of a non-profit here in town.  Our CEO had resigned under a hail of bullets after an investigation of a complaint by the HR people revealed that she was either something of a bigot or a total idiot.  As happens from time to time, a collateral finding of the investigation revealed that another employee was routinely subordinate and disruptive.  Not only that, she was despised and feared by her fellow employees.  So I went in with the acting CEO to send her packing as well.

This was 7 years or so ago and the economy was in the tank.  Although this employee had it coming in spades, still, she was a fellow human being.  A single Mom. And I was taking bread out of her mouth. 

I called one of my agency heads back in the government for advice. 

"Paul," he said. "There's no easy way to do it.  You just go in there and hand her the notice that she is terminated along with her rights under COBRA.  Give her her dignity but don't engage in a discussion with her about the decision.  Give her time to clean out her office.  And then take her out of the building in such a way that few employees will see her leave if you can do it.  That's about all you can do."

And that's what we did.  But still, it was hard.  I can't imagine having to terminate a nice person.  Even if there are grounds.  But then again, my agency head friend told me that the minute firing somebody gets easy is the minute you need to get out of management.

My friend did what she had to do, basically following the same script that I was given years before.  Then she went home and went to bed. 

She reported to the HR person after the dust had settled.  She was told to wear blue the next day.

"Always wear blue the day after you have to let somebody go," she was told.  "Blue inspires trust. I know you wear a lot of black. But don't go back to that office wearing anything but blue."  I guess that is why the President of the United States is sometimes referred to as "the man in the blue suit."

My good friend went back to the office the next day.  She wore a sweater despite the fact that it was a warm Spring day.

It was blue.