Go out to the parking and get in your car and drive real far … it all makes sense

In my research of commercial spots for the upcoming Super Bowl XLIX — which of this weekend will be Seattle Seahawks facing the New England Patriots — did I find no mention of the hilarious Acura RDX commercial. I won’t give much away except it features an attractive woman who goes on speaker phone in her car without knowing, or apparently caring, that her bosses are listening. The woman is rocking out and singing along to, especially the rap portion, of the 1980 Blondie hit “Rapture.”

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The sing-a-long may not be one of the $4.5 million spots seen on the Super football game but surely it will make it at least once in the hours-long hype leading up to the 4:30 p.m. Mountain Time game on Sunday, Feb. 1.

Of course, we all know the Super Bowl is all about the TV commercials. Well, mostly. I am not a big fan of the Seahawks although a local boy, Earl Thomas, the ‘Hawks Pro Bowl defensive back, from nearby Orange, Texas, is about the biggest thing in Southeast Texas right now since the Valero Refinery. Fellow Seattle DB and Pro Bowler Richard Sherman and Thomas were both injured in their come-from-behind win against Green Bay yesterday for the NFC Championship. Sherman sprained an elbow yesterday though continued playing despite that even I could see him wincing on TV and not using that left hand. Thomas had a dislocated shoulder. Both are expected to play in the world championship in two weeks.

Thomas is, understandably a hometown hero, he apparently spends a lot of time back home in Orange during the off season, doing good works for the community. So, if even half of what I hear about Thomas is true, it certainly speaks well of the young man. Sherman, obviously loves his mother and Campbell Soup. That, and being one of the best cornerbacks in the game, doesn’t prevent his generally being regarded as one who regularly engages in dirty play.

I didn’t intend to spend so much time writing about the upcoming Super Bowl. I just found the Acura ad amusing and liked that it used what is probably the only “rap” song I like even though it isn’t totally rap. I just have not liked rap or hip hop all that much. I suppose the major difference between “Rapture” and the rest of rap is Blondie vocalist Debbie Harry’s sexy voice — now 30-something years later —  as well as the rock and funk that underlies the tune. A couple of hip-hop pioneers, Fab Five Freddy and Grandmaster Flash, are also name-dropped in the song.

All I’m saying is that it’s a cool song though saddled as both rap and disco tunes. “Rapture” is pretty fly, my man. I gotta figure, that’s a good thing.


The sound and smell of Facebook and free speech

Many reasons exist as to why one should avoid Facebook at all costs. Probably just as many reasons are out there why Facebook is a valuable communications platform.

“I don’t use Facebook,” said someone, I don’t know who, during a holiday gathering recently. I remarked that I use it to keep up with my family. I usually check it a couple of times a day.

I disagree with much that I see on Facebook. I see just as much with which I do agree. I take the good, with the bad, relatively speaking.

A friend in Alaska is discovering or perhaps rediscovering her eye for art in the digital photos she takes. Most are of outdoors with her dog. Her dog photographs well. Many of her nature shots are otherworldly. Those I mention are true art.

One of my brothers moderates a group devoted to our hometown. These are thoughts shared about all of our past days in the small East Texas town or within the school district in which many, if not most, shared.

A former student, brother of a classmate of mine and whose mother worked with my mother, hit a Facebook homer over the last couple of days sharing and asking the group to share little giblets of memory. These involved remembrances of sounds and smells. It is so incredibly mind-blowing to me as a journalist to take in all these moments in time. And that is what they are — moments. Add them up in actual time and you might get a couple of hours.

Shared are sounds of screen doors noisily but reassuringly closing. The sound of horse hooves and tack are recalled as the young boys and girls rode in their Texas tradition. Then there is the call of the bird I always thought was the whipoorwill. Turns out, it was a different bird.

The smells included fresh hay in the hot summer sun that teenaged boys sweated while loading up bales on trucks and trailers for the local farmers and ranchers, and rewarding the kids with a little spare change. The honeysuckle that any East Texan must surely smells in the brilliant green of spring.

That particular sense, that of smell, became expanded for me. Certain times that sense will take me to my younger days though not necessarily in my hometown. Instead I remember my young adult days.

The smell of diesel in the morning hits me with a memory of Central Fire Station where I mainly worked at the beginning of my five intense and memorable years as a firefighter. With each snootfull of diesel comes a vision of the wall where helmets and bunker gear were lined up for all the shifts. It is simple enough why it is such a stunning memory. It was where we were gassed with diesel fumes from Engine 310. Here I was a 22-year-old man, making my own way in the world, and where I feared only that which was knowable. That’d mostly be another daunting smell, one of the homes we would encounter fully engulfed in fire, “burners” as we called them.

It was said that the scent of flesh and bones from the “toast” — what we privately called with a macabre sense of humor those unfortunates who were burned up. Perhaps it was an insensitive description but it was one of those mechanisms to prevent our dwelling upon that misfortune.

The sea had its own distinctive smell, or should I say smells. The scent of the Gulf of Mexico beaches and those of Southern California were different. Places such as “the OC’s” Huntington Beach, Manhattan Beach in LA County or San Diego’s Pacific Beach sometimes was as much sun screen than marine. But after spending a year on a ship in the Western and Southern Pacific you would sometime forget you were floating out there. Oh, and how could I forget the 2 1/2 years I was only a mile from the man-made beaches of the Mississippi Sound?’

Finally, there is the scent of reefer, so pervasive in the 70s and 80s that it was difficult not to inhale, as a president said he didn’t.

One has to use Facebook wisely. Don’t show those pictures of you passed out in the yard with “dead soldiers” littered all around. Trophies which were exhibited from those days of “partying till you puke.” Some thought should be given how such a powerful platform as Facebook should be used.

Those words written by Ol’ Justice Oliver W. Holmes’ from Schneck v. United States in 1919 are probably a good enough reason to watch one’s P’s and Q’s regardless whether one believes in self-censorship.

“The most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man falsely shouting fire in a theater and causing a panic … “

Oh well, I don’t go to theaters much these days anyway.


Stupid is as stupid does. Right Rep. Weber?

Someone said: “The definition of insanity is doing something over and over expecting the same results.” Or something to that effect. It’s been mostly attributed to Albert Einstein but a largely useless argument as to who originally said it has made the rounds on the internet for years. I say it the argument is useless because the statement is wrong. One who does the same thing over and over expecting the same results is not insane. The person is stupid. Or at least acts as much.

Take for instance my representative in Congress, Randy Weber. Weber, a Republican from Friendswood, Texas, has become emboldened upon election to his second term in the House. I say he is my representative. He is not. Weber was elected to represent the 14th Congressional District of Texas but instead he represents the Tea Party nut wing — as opposed to the regular Tea Party — portion of that district. And I am not a party to that party although I’ve been known to party.

Weber became known as of late for opposing the election of House Speaker John Boehner. Instead, he supported the candidacy of his neighbor to the north, the uber nut job Rep. Louie Gohmert, R, Tyler, Texas. Gohmert lost as expected and not unexpectedly was cast out of the circle of Boehner’s GOP supporters. Don’t mess with the man when you are just a little boy.

Maybe Weber was feeling a bit chastised as well when he committed his most recent political faux pas. He sent this Tweet:

 “Even Adolph Hitler thought it more important than Obama to get to Paris. (For all the wrong reasons.) Obama couldn’t do it for right reasons.”

Weber was speaking on the decision made by the president not to go himself, or to not send a high-ranking delegate, to the Paris rally showing support for France in the wake of recent terror attacks. White House spokesman Josh Earnest said Monday that Obama did regret not sending some higher-ranking official to the demonstration.

While an apology is considered noble in society — as per Mr. Obama — it can also amplify the stupidity of what one did. Thus, Mr. Weber and his apology:

 “It was not my intention to trivialize the Holocaust nor to compare the President to Adolf Hitler,” Weber said in a press release dated today. “The mention of Hitler was meant to represent the face of evil that still exists in the world today. I now realize that the use of Hitler invokes pain and emotional trauma for those affected by the atrocities of the Holocaust and victims of anti-Semitism and hate.

 “The terrorist attacks in Paris should remind us of the evil that still exists. Hitler was the face of evil, perpetrating genocide against six million Jews and millions of other victims. Today, we are facing the evil of Islamic extremists who are attempting to instill fear and murdering the lives of innocent people from Paris to Nigeria to Jerusalem and all over the world. The President’s actions or lack thereof is my point of contention. Islamic extremists have shown they are not going away, and instead are hungry for more blood.”

I hope Weber’s PR flack gets a raise.

Weber showed himself mainly to be a piece of furniture in his first term, just as any self-respecting frosh representative would do. He is certainly getting off to a hell of a start to his second term, and not in a good way. The last thing I would want in a congressman would be that person out-Gohmerting Louie Gohmert. East Texas already takes its hits for having no short supply of racist goobers. Even though the majority of people from my birthplace of Jasper are mostly good folks there is clearly a perception problem that exists from the olden days of slavery to the end of the 20th century when James Byrd was dragged down that dark road to his death.

I hope Weber will just keep his mouth shut and serve out his term, or quit, which might be even better, life being like a box of, well, you know. Maybe I will get a bumper sticker made for my pickup truck to show my fervent hope:


Thinking of clothing fit for males, chickens and dogs

The near constant drizzle that we have had for the last week, or so, it seems, has ended. It is still colder than a well-digger’s … pocket warmers. I must always qualify that remark. I am up at the top of the northern Texas coast. The temperature is 49 F with a stiff 15-mph North wind making the windchill seem about six degrees cooler. The relative humidity is 86 percent. I’m sure that adds something to the misery.

Normally, I’m a rainy-day type of guy. But sometimes enough is enough. More so especially when it is chilly.

With six pockets full of even more qualifications I fully realize I have friends across the U.S. where it is even colder. It is 33 F with a 40 percent chance of snow tonight for my friend Sally in western Massachusetts. It’s in the 20s and 30s all week with a chance of snow toward the end of the week in Anchorage, Alaska, residence of my friend Elizabeth. Still, while friends from the cold places in the states like to kid us about what we believe to be “cold” weather here in Texas, most would prefer their own cold hometowns to ours.

One plus about down South juking is you don’t have to buy a lot of different clothes. I say you don’t have to. That doesn’t mean you won’t. I find myself shopping in clothing stores for fairly inexpensive coats though I don’t know if such a creature exists during the winter months. I have a windbreaker that is acceptable for about 60 percent of cold weather. For about 20 percent I have a coat I bought back in 2005 while I was out on a reporting assignment and a big chill quickly arrived. It is a very warm coat, nothing fancy. It has a hood. When I used to walk every day no matter what, I would wear the coat and a warmup suit underneath on very cold mornings. I wore a knit cap covering my head and my ears and my hood was tied close. I used to laugh because I reminded myself of Kenny McCormick, the often-killed, insensible sounding kid from the adult cartoon “South Park.” As for the remaining cool weather wear I have a brown tan Gary Player front zip jacket. It goes with about 3/4 of my “bidness casual wear.”

But just as women seem never to have enough shoes so do I never seem to have enough clothes and especially jackets. That is ridiculous of course, I see no reason to spend tons of money on something I may only wear once or twice a year. This is not a “layers” kind of place where I live. Most of my shirts are short sleeve Polo-style shirts.

Until I began my present “part-time (32-hour/week) job” almost eight years ago, most of my pants were shorts.

I have always thought that if I won millions in the lottery that I would buy bunches of clothes. I feel it would be practical because I would definitely go on a successful diet and need to buy different sizes until I got to the “just right” size. Plus, I would travel here and there and would need different kinds of wear because of varied climates.

In reality, I need to buy a couple of pair of pants for bidness wear soon because my keys have taken a toll on the sloppy sewing from the pockets to the outside seam I always seem to encounter. Either that, or it will be me sewing them by hand.

So I am and have long been a fairly functional, low-maintenance creature, as far as clothes are concerned. Emotionally low-maintenance is another matter, or so I have been told. Oh well. Most of the time “there is no one in here except us chickens,” as the old saying goes. If I really had chickens, again, I might buy them some diapers or some Depends. Why? Why not? This is the same man who once gave his half-Doberman half-Great Dane a dickie to wear.

In other words, it don’t (sic) mean nothing.

Appreciate your law officers (and firefighters and EMTs)

It was only a little while ago that I read today was “Law Enforcement Appreciation Day.” I didn’t know that it was or that there was even such a day. There is a good reason why I didn’t know though. Today is the inaugural day.

Recent incidents in which law enforcement officers used deadly force and likewise force was used against law officers prompted the day to appreciate police. Well, maybe not so much because of officers using deadly force although that is an underlying reason because deaths of young black men that were allegedly without provocation seems to be one reason police supporters feel such a day is needed.

Despite what some believe it is difficult to think there is plot out there in which cops want to shoot young black people. Some young cops need a dose of what regular folks think and a need to drop the macho macho man act. But most are just young people in their 20s and 30s. They were just like me when I was a paid firefighter and was their age. It isn’t a feeling of being bulletproof (or fireproof.) It’s just a feeling among some of the younger folk that they are among the right and the righteous.

Once they are literally and figuratively kicked in the nuts a few times in their lives most will get over whatever it is that makes them assholes. Either that or they move on and become supervisors working in offices with cubicle farms.

But yes, cops do what the rest of us don’t do. These are the people who usually are first on the scene to see what the rest of us don’t want to see. These are the young and older folks who have to cuff some crazed jerkoff, or perhaps even have to resort to a fatal encounter.

We need a law enforcement day and a firefighter day and an EMT day of appreciation. I know people on Facebook who see cops as only deserving this special day. But that is only until an incident in which 10 or 15 firefighters and Paramedics, or even 300 firefighters as in FDNY on 9/11, make an ultimate sacrifice.

Perhaps we should broaden this to Public Safety Personnel Day? Or use some other name. We need to appreciate all the folks who put their lives on the line every day and every night. Don’t you think?

Speaker hopeful: Where I explain the meaning of “dope”

Let us examine some word meanings. When someone says “crack” they may mean a split on the surface of something that has not broken into separate parts. Or they could mean a smokable form of an organic or synthetic cocaine. Lumped into a larger category, one might refer to the latter by the more archaic “dope.”

Another similar substance comes to mind: marijuana. A long-used slang for the smokable or edible plant is “pot.” But a pot just as well may mean a container which may be used for cooking food. Referenced as a drug, again an older slang term that is used might well be pot.

Louie, Louie, Louie, Lou--ee ... Anchors aweigh babies!

Louie, Louie, Louie, Lou–ee … Anchors aweigh babies!

So we put the words together. Unfortunately for some, we are not here to talk about sometimes illicit drugs. We will use the word “crackpot” as well as “dope” though. Without further ado, the crackpot and dope to which I refer has announced his candidacy for Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives. His name is Rep. Louie Gohmert, R, 1st Congressional District, Texas.

One grievance the congressman, whom some may politely refer to as, colorful, has expressed in terms of current leadership is the continuing resolution — Gohmert refers to it as CRomnibus — that has kept government running.

“After the November elections gave Republicans control of the Senate, voters made clear they wanted change,'” said Gohmert, in a press release. “There have been numerous examples of problematic Republican leadership, but we were hopeful our leaders got the voters’ message. However, after our Speaker forced through the CRomnibus by passing it with Democratic votes and without time to read it, it seemed clear that we needed new leadership. There had been much discussion. But, until yesterday, no one had stepped up.”

Republican Rep. Ted Yoho of Florida apparently has also challenged incumbent Speaker John Boehner.

Speaker Boehner is a colorful man in his own right, mostly the color orange, as in a tanning booth hue. I know nothing of Yoho, but I cannot imagine how anyone in Congress who could fill the shoes of a genuine crackpot and dope that is Louie Gohmert.

All one has to say to really get classic Gohmert is “Anchor Babies.” The term refers to a concept that only the most paranoid crackpot dope could envision. The former three-term district judge in Tyler, Texas, gained fame for ruling that an HIV-positive man before Gohmert on auto theft charges must, as a condition of probation, provide future sexual partners a court-provided form that notified them of the defendant’s HIV status. But wait! That doesn’t even get to the anchor baby fantasy.

Gohmert went on national TV, even debating Anderson Cooper, that children were being born and smuggled illegally into Texas so that they may grow up to become terrorists who would kill Americans. Such a stupid notion resulted in an art gallery director at my college alma mater — unfortunately in Gohmert’s district — getting fired for expressing notions similar to mine. This breach of Amendment 1 left the university mired in a lengthy lawsuit. The suit brought by Christian Cutler, the university employee, was settled last month after the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals affirmed a lower court ruling against Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, Texas. The motion had sought a summary judgment in the case.

I lived for a number of years in the district Gohmert represents. “Good Time Charlie” Wilson, the late Democratic legend of  “Charlie Wilson’s War” fame was my congressman for most of that time. Charlie, as his campaign slogan correctly bragged, took “care of the home folks.” He was eventually gerrymandered out because, according to Wilson: “The people in Nacogdoches hated my ass.” Eventually the district became heavily blue and sent the biggest crackpot dope in Congress to Washington in 2005, where he has stayed. Fortunately for the U.S. people, but not my much, Boehner will likely remain Speaker.

2015 and I still don’t like how some people park their cars

On New Year’s Eve I spent the night visiting two great friends I had not seen in quite some time. Although I was driving the same Tacoma pickup I drove when I last saw them, when I allowed their two young boys to play in the back of my truck, the boys are now college age and attending The Citadel in Charleston, S.C.

SubstandardFullSizeRender-1My friends, their kids, their kids’ friends, some neighbors, and I all enjoyed celebrating in the far northwest suburbs of Houston. The neighborhood association there had erected signs saying the use of fireworks were prohibited but the party who were attending this party chose to ignore the signs, as so it seemed, did most of that area of northwest Houston. I have been in cities where gunfire was just as prevalent for celebrating as fireworks and still did not hear the booming and banging that was heard ushering in 2015.

So there it was on the first early morning of 2015 that I found myself with several of the many things I like in life: good friends, amiable people, adult beverages and fireworks. I suppose I could throw in my Tacoma since I’ve had it since 1997 but it is in part still remaining because I can’t afford a new auto.

It didn’t take me very long in this new year to find some of those parts of life of which I dislike. On this the second day of the new year I took a picture of one of those disliked portions of my world: Call it what you want. You could call it a photo of someone who had parked their car askew, thus presenting an opportunity in which another motorist might have found themselves without a parking space under certain circumstances.

The male of the couple of friends I visited once proclaimed that he liked backing his SUV into a spot because “it looked cool.” He was only semi-joshing. And I have nothing against backing a vehicle into a parking spot. However, I once backed massive fire trucks into a bay that had little space to spare and I guess that I never got over that.

I don’t mind someone backing their automobile into a parking spot. That is considering that they back that vehicle in for one vehicle. I don’t care if someone parks their car straight into a spot or if they park with the car or truck resting on its rooftop. Just, by God, park it for one car or truck!

I wish all my friends and others deserving of my good feeling a happy 2015. As for those miscreant sons of bitches who park askew I only wish for them an infestation by fleas from a thousand camel’s asses. No specific reason for the infestation originating from a camel or it’s arse. Fleas from a jackass’ ears might do just as well. Just don’t take up two parking spaces for your one automobile and we should have a happy start, at least, to 2015.

Twice with “The Interview” and still no funnier

And in the end, after all the hubbub and a threats and serious talk of cyber-terrorism —  not to mention dipshit’s such as CNN’s Jake Tapper who postulated the United States lost the first cyber war — there was a movie. That movie had little going for it albeit some R-rated humor that made for some big laughs with an ending that might (no promises) have sufficed had I not already known the ending. Oh well, the movie was billed as comedy. The world went topsy-turvey for awhile aided by an electronic news media that seemed to evoke for some the second coming of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Along that backdrop did I watch “The Interview” twice. I watched on my laptop after its simultaneous release online and in “fearless” movie theaters across the US of A.

I couldn’t really complain about the price. The movie had several online outlets. The one I used, seetheinterview.com, streamed the movie at the low, low, price of $5.99  and could be watched for 48 hours. Thus, I came back and watched it again a short time ago. Not much really changed during the second viewing.

Only if someone occasionally finds low brow humor really funny can enough parts of the film remain salvageable. (Rob Lowe ‘removes’ his hair, exposing several strands extending from front to back. This leads a control room lady to exclaim: “It looks like someone’s taint!” The James Franco character finds a double entendre which only he sees the hilarity until discovered by the North Korean leader. “They hate us ’cause they ain’t us” This comes out of course as “They hate us ’cause they anus.”)

One also wonders whether the movie’s production folks were channeling Ed Wood, what with several noticeable inconsistencies — Franco and Seth Rogan whispering because of possible bugs in the Kim palace guest rooms then inexplicably talking out loud. As LA Times critic Betsy Sharkey writes: “This is, to put it bluntly, not a good film.”

As discussing with my friend across the Pacific, Paul, yesterday, it almost seemed as if watching this film somehow became an act of patriotism. Other friends sees the run up to the movie with the warnings of 9/11 style attacks as well as the puzzling water cooler gossip — the Sony email which calls Angelina Jolie “a minimally talented spoiled brat” — some kind of bizarre way to pack theaters.

The supposed hacking of Sony is one of those events which comes along leaving more head scratching than answers. To paraphrase an earlier phrase about Angelina Jolie, “The Interview” was a minimally funny comedy.

But it certainly got talked about.

More cost for hotel guests?

The Holiday season is supposed to be one of giving although we should be aware of those out there who are more interested in taking or keeping things for themselves. No, I’m not talking about street corner thugs or those who try every way possible to separate us from our dollars such as through fraudulent means.

Instead, I mean corporate clowns. Those corporations that depend on their customers for their well-being often seek every damned last penny they can from their customers. For example, let’s take the hospitality business.

Now when you think of crooked hotels and motels one might imagine the so-called “flea bag motel.” In reality, though, the less-expensive motels may be perfectly on the up-and-up relatively speaking, while it is your more expensive places that are the real money grubbers.

For instance, the huge Marriott Worldwide has asked the FCC to allow hotel owners to block Wi-fi hotspots inside their building, this according to Infoworld.com. The federal agency hit the company with a $600,000 fine for doing just what Marriott is now asking permission to do.

The fine came after guests and exhibitors were charged up to $1,000 per device to access Marriottt’s Wi-fi or face signal blocking at the company’s Gaylor Opryland Hotel and Convention Center in Nashville.

Companies such as Microsoft and Google urged the FCC to reject Marriott’s petition to the FCC which would allow signal blocking of Wi-Fi hotspots other than those belonging to hotels.

Having stayed in a number of hotels and motels for extended periods of time that hotels such as Marriott present much in the way of creature comfort. But Marriott and many other chains try their best at bleeding “blood from turnips.” Even separate hotels within within the Marriott sphere offer different amenities and at drastically different rates.

Just checking rates in nearby Houston, Marriott Hotel’s show those ranging from the high $70s per night to upward of $200 per night. There are differences as well in what one might experience in breakfasts or happy hours.

What guests do see pretty uniformly in Marriotts and other hotels are extras that have outrageous costs. I hesitate to lump all hotels together, I shouldn’t, but what the hell. My most recent hotel stay was with a Hilton affiliate. At least its breakfast was free and made to order. Happy hour also featured free booze for a couple of hours and not just beer and wine, but various house liquor as well.But the restaurant had a limited menu and was more than I wanted to pay. If one was in need of a little nighttime snack while watching the Cowboys get beat by Washington, they should have bought it somewhere else. If you wanted a bag of chips there you would pay $5 a package.

Oh and back to Wi-fi. Paying for internet service at the Marriott hotels in Houston run from $7 to $17.

One more point about internet service at hotels. My service through Verizon — I never thought I’d say this — is better and more reliable than what one may find through the hotel itself.

So I give you this early warning. Hopefully, the FCC will stay on the side of the consumer and reject the Marriott petition. Nickle and diming is certainly not what it once was. Good luck to all you travelers come the new year. Ho Ho Ho, Merrrry Christmas.

Who need the perp? Not me.

Perp walks. I just saw one on local TV. The “perp” looked as if his head was going to snap as he walked with his head away from the cameras. This young suspect of a home invasion robbery in nearby Port Arthur, Texas, was able to pull his sweater over his head. The few local reporters there all asked the man if he pulled off the crime. Apparently, the man didn’t answer, on camera at least. He probably said that he didn’t do it. Do what, Man? It is likely he’s done a crime or two before.

The perp walk typically happens when the cops call or email the press about an upcoming prisoner transfer to jail or arraignment. Usually, the reporters don’t just come up on a perp walk on their own.

I went to a few perp walks in my career in the news business. I found those occasions only slightly more useful to a news story than the “man on the street” interviews, what we called the “geek on the street.”

Maybe other countries are above such showmanship. Say nations like North Korea. Yes, it seems totalitarian nations would love a similar exhibition. But maybe not, if on the other shoe. The other stinky shoe of Kim Jong-Un.

I wouldn’t like to be on the other shoe. Pew.

Perhaps an all-star cast, starring Kim, maybe even Dick Cheney. And too bad Hitler’s dead. We can’t do Adolf. And I doubt we would get even get the live ones, like Cheney.

So TV news stars to be, here is a thought. Unless your manager, makes you go to a perp walk, I suggest you do something else. Maybe there will be a birthday celebration for someone who is turning 105 years in age. Or maybe the local firefighters are rescuing a cat from a well, perhaps even there is a real story out there. Even a blind pig finds an acorn every now and then.