Author: Dick

A sub for Coop?

Almost as boring as celebrity news for me is news about celebrity news people. I mean, I am pretty ambivalent about Anderson Cooper replacing Aaron Brown in his CNN time spot. While I thought Brown had his moments, he too often reminded me of some of the horse’s asses I have had as editors who asked questions just to hear the sound of their own voice.

And Cooper? I think he is vastly overrated. He is an okay journalist. But one has to ask: Would a TV journalist who is just okay be the next biggest thing in TV news if his mother’s initials weren’t Gloria Vanderbilt? Perhaps that is unfair. If so, sorry Coop.

Then today, word comes down that Judy Miller and The New York Times are parting ways. Who cares? I have to admit I felt a little taken in by Judy’s righteous battle over the 1st Amendment. But it turns out her saga really doesn’t sound all that appealing.

In this day and age of Internet and blog and podcast and the electric bugaloo (wait, where did that come from?) it seems like all journalists, bloggers and the would-bees on either side do is snipe at each other. It seems like a terrible waste of talent and brain power, not to mention hot air.

Darwin was so complex he had to be created with a higher powder. At least Kansas has a nice state song.

I suspect Dr. Brewster Higley knew of what he spoke. Who knows if he was melancholy or just inspired when he wrote “My Western Home” on a Kansas creek bank in 1872. He reportedly was married five times and Wife 4 was the one who drove the doc to drink, according to a short biography I read by Mary Barr Norris. Of course W.C. Fields supposedly said a woman drove him to drink and he thanked her everyday for it. Doc’s drinking or not drinking is neither here nor there.

What became “Home on the Range” and the Kansas state song always conjured up for me coyotes howling and cowboys sitting around a campfire discussing the latest cow gossip. You would imagine that it got awfully lonely out there on the trail.

Nonetheless it’s a pretty song with nice images. And it would’ve been thrilling to see the buffalo roaming on the range back then. Of course, if you were to see the buffalo roaming you may also have run into some non-too-happy natives out there. Or you might have come down with what is today a very curable infection and died.

Oh well. Sometimes you eat the time machine. Sometimes the time machine eats you.

GW looking slightly crazier after all these years.

I just love the White House Web site. It’s the best thing since beans. On that site I can — to paraphrase the immortal schmaltzer Bobby Goldsboro — sit here watching Scotty’s nose grow. I speak of Scotty McClellan, of course. I can’t wait to see what he’s got not to say today. But I suppose I will have to contain myself until the official press briefing transcript is posted.

But I also love the White House’s site because I can lift photos of the president without infringing on anyone’s copyright. And two good ones of GW were posted today from his trip to Panama. Both look equally goofy. I couldn’t decide which one to use so I decided to use both.

The president tries to bean NBC’s David Gregory who is on the phone to Don Imus.

I suppose I could do better than that caption. But I am taking a break from real, by God paying work, and break time’s over. It’s back on my head.

Probably the bit of news I have heard in the last couple of days that fails to even register on the “who-gives-a-crap” scale is the suspension of Philadelphia Eagles receiver Terrell Owens.

Owens is the typical spoiled, self-centered professional athlete who is really good at his job and really sucks at people skills. Good riddance I would say, except some other team will undoubtedly pick him up next year and pay him more money than he has sense.

Speaking of me, me, me, one thing that really rubs me the wrong way in pro football is excessive celebration. No, I’m not talking about players dancing in the end zone, or pulling out their cell phones to call their agents. If you really want to look like a jackass and you made a touchdown, then you have earned your right to look like a jackass. I’m talking about players who celebrate after every play. They make a block. They celebrate. They make a hit. They celebrate. They didn’t commit a penalty. They celebrate. They made it off the field without stepping on someone. They celebrate.

What they are celebrating is something called “doing their job.” Jeez, could you imagine if people in other professions celebrated each time they did their job. Imagine a dentist giving you a shot of novacaine. High five with the assistant. He drills out a massive hole in your mouth. He shouts: “Yes” and goes “moonwalking” around the room. He fills your tooth. He jumps up on the counter and shakes his ass. You pay the bill. He goes out and gets a hooker.

Well, maybe your dentist does that. People are just weird these days.