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.
This morning I discussed by email with my expatriate friend Paul the news that Jeb Bush is “actively exploring” a run for president in the 2016 election. My Tokyo-based “J” School friend, who teaches English there, pondered the wording of this news as if we really think it is news.
“I suppose ‘explore’ might be sitting around drinking beer and thinking about it. ‘Actively explore’ might be sitting around drinking beer and paying Karl Rove to think about it,” said Paul.
To which I might reply, were Paul, Sir Paul of the Beatles: I am the egg man, they are the egg man. I am the walrus, goo goo goo joob … Ah but alas I am not an egg man, though I was an egg boy, one time, selling eggs from laying hens and yard hens. Also, Paul is not Sir Paul. But it is important as to how concepts are presented when you aren’t just another joob running for president. Because three Bushes are directly related to a bird in the hand. The next thing you know, you’ve got a damned monarchy, which I pointed out to Paul. His reply:
“We probably should do it because then we could have Dukes and royal babies and shit like that — CNN would like that. The irony would be that the ‘King’ would eventually lose power and be a ceremonial inbred figurehead mostly attending charity balls, playing golf, and pardoning turkeys on holidays while trying to keep his daughters’ topless vacation pictures out of the press.
“I’m good with all this,” concluded my friend, signing as “Paul the Serf.”
It’s certainly an interesting way to look at it. Will we fight another revolution if Jeb I or Bush III or whatever we would call him, wins a presidency?
Or, perhaps, we can just go ahead and elect a Clinton wife in the less than royal manner of the Texas Fergusons — a.k.a. “Ma and Pa Ferguson.
Oh but Ma was humane. Many say “crooked as a barrel of snakes.” She was good about getting folks out of the slammer in Huntsville. My Dad once told me a story about a less than savory cast of cousins, one of whom was in Huntsville. Pop said this unsavory cousin’s mother hitchhiked all the way from San Augustine to Austin — 232 miles one-way — to see Ma and get her boy, our cousin, out of prison. Our cousin’s mother, also a cousin, was successful and perhaps even stopped off in Huntsville on the way back and picked up her boy before returning to the red clay, pine-covered hills of San Augustine County.
So with Republicans one gets royalty and with Democrats the result is cronyocracy? Things are never that easy. But three Bushes? One at a time was certainly not so great where George I upchucked on the leader of Japan and George II was swayed into igniting another world war in the Middle East. Yes, the House of Bush, it bothers me plenty.
When I began writing this little blog almost 10 years ago I never thought I would still be writing it 10 years later. I certainly never imagined I would write 2,600 posts. I never really knew what to think.
I know I wanted to make my living as a freelance writer. I tried it for awhile but that tech writing stuff which just kept me barely afloat financially was not what I had in mind. There was a period in which I slept in my truck. A lot of that was health problems. It’s all documented. Perhaps I should look back upon it from time to time. Finally, I got a better than average part-time job money-wise. But I developed a few health-related issues which has made it hard for me to function, particularly now that I work 32 hours every week.
Meanwhile, I also became a regional vice president of my union local, for which I am not paid. Every now and then I get to take a trip somewhere on union business and might come out ahead in per diem. But, hey, I get to help my fellow bargaining unit employee.
More and more I find that I need to get off my ass and get something published, even if it is for something that might pay only a few bucks. That and I need to get a book underway. I’ve thought about it for so long. Even if it is a collection of posts and columns I wrote through the years. It is for my writing that I have published this blog. I have tried my best over the nine-plus years to write something here every day. I was once disciplined enough to do so. A load of life has slowed me down.
What is it they say about good intentions? Maybe it’s better than bad intentions.
I had planned to write about football today. Specifically, I had planned to write as to the danger involved in life as a Houston Texans quarterback. It was sad yesterday when Houston played Indianapolis. Houston actually held, with not quite as much steam from possible MVP, Texans defensive end J.J. Watt, Indy by a touchdown. The Texans third-string QB Tom Savage came in after previous starter Ryan Fitzpatrick broke his tibia in the second quarter. Fitzpatrick, who has seen more NFL teams than the Zebra corps (the referees) had started the first nine games for the Texans this season until he was benched by first year Head Coach Bill O’Brien. In came Ryan Mallett, who backed up Tom Brady. You know the guy, who never seemed to miss a day’s work in his storied career with the Patriots. Mallett started two games and injured his pectoral muscle. Savage came in and hurt his knee toward the final minutes.
Perhaps Houston should have hired another QB named Ryan or hired the Ryan family (Buddy, Rex and Rob) as coaches. It looks as if Houston favorite Case Keenum, former U of H Cougar QB and a damn good one, may come in to replace the wrecked Houston quarterback squad. I’m sure that makes Texans punter Shane Lechler, former Texas Aggies punter, kicker and emergency QB happy. Just how good Keenum might be returning as a quarterback, well see his preseason attempts.
Houston Chronicle columnist Jerome Solomon pretty well predicted before the first draft pick the pickle the Texans would find themselves. Many sports talking heads on radio felt this year’s QB class in the NFL draft was an abysmal one. That is even considering Johnny Football Manziel who finally started yesterday also, for the Cleveland Browns. He probably stunk worse than Savage. Nonetheless, the Texans desperately needed a hotshot quarterback, Solomon and many others said earlier in the pre-draft. The Texans had the shot at the first round, top pick and they spent their pick and their millions of bucks on Jadaveon Clowney, an outside linebacker from the South Carolina Gamecocks. Clowney played four games this season and received a “microfracture” of his knee.
Oh well. NFL guys make a butt-load of money for doing whatever it is on the field or whatever it is they are supposed to do but cannot do because of injury. I was on injured reserve earlier in the year with a torn meniscus from a fall. Got the surgery, the physical therapy. My knee still hurts. It doesn’t bend like it used to and swells up somewhat ugly. I feel your pain. Well, your knee pain, at least.
What was I talking about earlier? It doesn’t matter. Just putting the words together feels okay. I have accomplished my deed for the day.
Perhaps it would be more appropriate, depending on where one was located, to say “Texashombreve a Jesucristoen una tortilla.” That is just one translation. Apt? Correcto? At least the story had a humorous lead:
“Holy, holy, holy. Pass the guacamole.”
It seems that someone is always finding Jesus in some foodstuff. If one looks closely at the tortilla pictured in the linked story one might believe the irregularity does resemble Jesus. Or maybe the Zig Zag man.
Christmas-time being the time millions of Christians celebrate as the birth of Jesus of Nazareth so would it seem an appropriate time for people to find images of Him on tortillas, toast, screen doors and so forth. The many visions people have of Jesus and his associates and relatives, make sense considering how many different beliefs people attribute to him.
Some, forgive me, jackasses, such as those commentators on Fox News always seem to believe there is a “War on Christmas.” Actually, they mean that it is their opinion that a war exists between government paired with those secular suckers versus those who believe in some narrow — narrow by millions and millions though still narrow looking at the world at large — construct of of Christianity.
But in reality, people find Jesus in a tortilla here, a plate of grits there and perhaps here, there and everywhere. So who is stopping Jesus? The Supreme Court? That Kenyan boy who is president? There doesn’t seem to be any shortage of Jesus or “Hey-soos” either one, at least in the minds of those who believe in Him, and however they believe him. So those of you who worry Christmas is under attack, just go to your local taqueria, get you a plate of something good and make sure you order some hot tortillas. Perhaps if you stare long enough — and perhaps drink some stout margaritas — you too might find a sacred figure in your tortillas.
An odd-but-colorful flyer hung from the driver’s window on my work car, catching my eye, yesterday. On occasion an area strip club, or perhaps “fabric-free entertainment” to be more politically correct, is found on car windows in our parking lot. However, this was a bit too odd for me, especially after only one cup of coffee.
The ad said: “Hulk Hogan’s Live Midget Wrestling.” Think about that for a minute. The event is scheduled for Friday at Jaguars, a site on Fannett Road here in Beaumont which during better days (my better days specifically speaking) was known as “Lady Long Legs.” LLL was a country-western joint that came around during the “Urban Cowboy” days of the late 70s and early 80s. It was a place I visited when I came to town, a good place to find some young cowgirls, who I must admit looked pretty good in their tight jeans and whatever else it was they were wearing.
The long and short of it. Wrestler Hulk Hogan brings dwarfs to late night match in Beaumont “gentleman’s club.’
Today, Jaguars is one a number of Fabric Free places owned by the publicly traded RCI Holdings, parent company of Rick’s Cabaret. And it must be a place that does some good bidness, as they say here in Texas, especially considering some kind of weirdness as the “Hulkster” is bringing for $20 pre-sale and $25 at the door. The event starts at 11 p.m., by which time I hope to be knocking out the Zzzzzzzs.
Now, I probably heard at one time or the other of such a fine “sport” as midget wrestling. The term brings to mind those times when I once was going strong around closing time after a night full of longneck bottles of beer with a few shots of “tee-kill-ya” in between. Otherwise I don’t think I ever heard of midget wrestling. I do remember hearing of midget tossing, which consisted of tossing a little person wearing little Velco suits up against a Velcro wall. For more reasons than one, it is a targeted activity of dwarf advocacy groups. More on midget v. dwarf shortly.
The activity scheduled in our fair town this Friday is an event of the MCW which stands for “Micro Championship Wrestling,”an organization former World Wrestling Entertainment’s Hogan promotes.
An advocacy group called Little People of America does not care for midget wrestling. The group doesn’t even like the word “midget.” Midget is the “M-word” to the African American’s “N-word.” The organization explains:
“In some circles, a midget is the term used for a proportionate dwarf. However, the term has fallen into disfavor and is considered offensive by most people of short stature. The term dates back to 1865, the height of the “freak show” era, and was generally applied only to short-statured persons who were displayed for public amusement, which is why it is considered so unacceptable today.
“Such terms as dwarf, little person, LP, and person of short stature are all acceptable, but most people would rather be referred to by their name than by a label.”
Some folks get right upset when they are faced with what they consider political correctness. Most of the same crowd are unaware of the hurt a name, even one as common as a dwarf or “retard,” can cause.
I never really though about some of the terms used being slurs to some while not to others. I would say I probably grew up hearing somewhat more the word “midget” to “dwarf.” Although, thanks to Disney’s “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” dwarf is hardly an alien word. And in certain contexts, both words seem ill-fitting. How would “Snow White and the Seven Midgets” sound? Or how about a “dwarf submarine?”
Apparently, the men and women who — I suppose — travel around with Hulk Hogan to do some midget wrestling are not all that put off by the M-word. But could you just imagine how offensive the concept of “retarded wrestling” would sound?
There are plenty of reasons why I don’t plan to attend the match of the “vertically challenged” — I wonder why that term isn’t used? The time is too late. I feel kind of creepy, a 59-year-old guy going to a strip club. I didn’t when I was younger though. Twenty-five dollars or even $20 is way too much for me to pay to watch something stupid. I can watch the Fox News for free.
And I suppose it is exploitative watching an event that is primarily based on the person’s genetic markers that make him or her a certain size. Although, one sees this genetic reality in other sports, such as those who are college and NBA hoops stars.
It is an odd world in which we live. Thankfully, we don’t always have to pay to see its oddities. We also, less and less, think what was once odd is not so much these days.
