Author: Dick

President Bush tells reporters in the White House that he just stuck a hand grenade under Helen Thomas’ seat.

The headline in today’s Beaumont Enterprise says it all: “After Rita, even a faraway Tropical Storm Chris draws wary eyes.”

Only some of the older people in Southeast Texas remember a storm with the ferocity of Hurricane Rita, which scored a direct hit on the area in September 2005. Hurricane Audrey in the late 50s demolished Cameron, La., nearby, and killed several hundred people. Rita demolished Cameron again but fortunately casualties were few.

But this time, not only Cameron was smashed, but areas some 80-90 miles from the coast received severe damage. I know because I was about 80 miles from the coast when Rita hit and we received about the same wind force as where I live — Beaumont, Texas, — some 35-40 miles from the Gulf of Mexico.

So people are paying attention to Chris, which is good. Some are probably worrying too much, which is bad. Personally, surviving through the next couple of days is more on my mind that Chris. But I too will remain vigilant. I think Rita taught us a valuable lesson last year. It’s kind of like that old story about a guy hitting a mule on its head to get its attention. What story you ask? If you have to ask, never mind. Nonetheless, I think in these parts, tropical cyclones by and large have our attention.

I am locked in mortal combat with two state and one federal bureaucracy. While there are many hard-working folks with good intentions who work for the government, there are also many who seem to have no other purpose in life other than making your life a living Hell. This battle has really zapped my mental energy and so this is going to be a quick missive today.

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A few minutes ago, I passed the Crockett Street Entertainment District in Beaumont, Texas, where news accounts say a movie is being made. I wasn’t available to quickly find a link to any story about it, but one of the TV news stations said yesterday that if you want to be an extra to show up at 1 p.m. I didn’t hear anything about money involved and movies do pay for extras sometimes. So I guess the show will have to go on with out me.

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There was a wild happening yesterday on the Veterans Memorial Bridge, one of the two high bridges spanning the Sabine-Neches Ship Channel between Port Arthur and Orange. A man was apparently despondent and when police tried to stop him he fled. The driver drove onto the Veterans bridge, jumped out and over the side of the structure, going down some 100 or so feet. He survived, apparently without any major injury, after clinging to concrete pilings before being rescued. Maybe the diver has lately been locked in mortal combat with bureaucrats! The bridges are very popular for attempting to dive to your demise.

Give certain people a substance — any substance — and they’ll try to use it to get intoxicated. And when someone gets high — anyone — some people will try to make a mountain out of a mothball, er, mole hill. So it comes no surprise to read Jack Shafer’s piece in “Slate” in which he rips yet another media hysteria that comes from virtually nothing.

Shafer, in his ‘Stupid story of the week,’ writes about media overkill derived from stories about two teens huffing mothballs. Yes, two, as in one-two, dos, II. This journalistic hand-wringing stems from a medical study which indicated only three previous cases of mothball intoxication have ever been reported. Call out the DEA!

The media can indeed have some stupid stories at times. Of course, I would bet a huge majority of those stories comes from a desperate and somewhat dim-witted editor somewhere who is desperate for something to feed the beast. Remember this from editor school 101: Never let reality and good sense damper a sensational story.

Iced tea is made for sweltering Southeast Texas days such as today. I had a glass of tea earlier today along with some ribs at Patillo’s in Beaumont. And while the ribs were great, the iced tea tasted like I had just found water after being stranded in the desert. Cold, unsweetened tea — it just can’t be beat sometimes.

I look back on my days as a kid and wondered how I ever drank sweet tea. Or Coca Cola or any number of sweet things I feasted upon. I drink a Coke once in a blue moon, or if I want a little variety from bourbon and water. I don’t eat sweets a lot either. Perhaps I will have a little pecan pie or piece of cake every now and then. I usually do my sweet consumption around Christmas. I also like a White Russian every now and then, but just to show I’m not a bigot, I also like a Black Russian sometimes.

Now I’m not saying sweet tea is something horrible. It’s just something I can’t hack anymore, like cigarettes and “The Simpsons.” To each his or her own, I suppose. His or her own what, I’m not certain. But that is just something I will have to tackle another day.