Badly done, Jared…

From the Business Insider:

The FBI has subpoenaed an affidavit containing alleged texts between former Subway spokesman Jared Fogle and a former female Subway franchisee in which Fogle says he paid for sex with a 16-year-old girl, according to the former franchisee’s attorney.

On June 19, the lawyer says that Fogle again asked the woman to advertise herself on Craigslist. She responds: “Is this the same website you found that 16 year old girl you that you f*****? …I still can’t believe you only paid $100 for her.”

Fogle responds: “It was amazing!!!!”

She asks: “What part of her ad made you think she was selling sex?”

He says: “U will have to read them to see.”

The age of consent in Indiana, where Fogle resides, is 16 years old.

First place, whenever someone asks you such a leading question — “I’m going to grab some cash at the corner ATM. Is that the same bank that you robbed at gunpoint and used the funds to buy a warehouse full of cocaine, assault rifles, and bootleg Prince records?” — your response should *not* be to willingly incriminate yourself but to borrow from Eric Stoltz in PULP FICTION and shout, “I don’t know you. Who is this? Prank caller! Prank caller!”

Also, if you’re engaged in this type of activity, shouldn’t you have a “no text” policy? Everything’s verbal or you use code words (“Did you tape DOWNTON ABBEY? YES! It was AMAZING! Very satisfying… episode.”) or invest in that MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE technology where everything self-destructs after 60 seconds.

Leave a comment

Posted by on August 1, 2015 in Social Commentary


Tags: ,

Facebook “Friend” Requests…

I’ve noticed a Facebook‬ trend where people will post a simple question or request advice and follow that up with a lengthy codicil that basically pleads, “Don’t be an asshole” E.g.: “I’m going to my cousin’s wedding in Tampa. Anyone have any hotel recommendations? Please no comments about how Florida is a cesspool that’s not fit for human habitation.” Or “I’m attending a work conference in Austin, Texas. Any ideas on vegan friendly meal options there? Please no comments on how vegans are patchouli-smoking hippies and I’m wasting my time by going to Texas and not eating a big steak or enjoying the local barbecue.” Or “I have tickets to a Rolling Stones concert. Has anyone gone to a big stadium show before? When’s the best time to arrive? And any tips on parking to avoid the crush when the show lets out? Please no comments on how Mick Jagger is an undead mummy and that the Stones best work was over before I was born and how arena shows are absurdly expensive.” Is this what the Internet has done to us? We can’t just answer someone’s question without unsolicited, meanspirited commentary? Or just not say anything at all? And the requests aren’t paranoid, because we’ve all read the threads where people are, basically, assholes.

1 Comment

Posted by on August 1, 2015 in Social Commentary



Badly done, South Carolina…

From the Greenville News:

Oconee County Coroner Karl Addis released a statement Tuesday saying (Zachary) Hammond died from a gunshot wound to the upper torso, but the statement didn’t indicate if the bullet came from the front or back. He referred questions to SLED, the Seneca Police and the 10th Circuit Solicitor’s Office.

Tori Dianna Morton, 23, of Pickens, was in the car with Hammond but wasn’t hurt. She was arrested for possession of marijuana.

Covington said the officer approached the car with his gun drawn, as is common practice in making narcotics arrests.

An undercover officer had arranged a drug buy to lure Morton into the parking lot of Hardee’s restaurant on U.S. 123, according to an incident report.

The report says the officer executed a search warrant and found a bag of marijuana in the car. It makes no mention of the shooting. Covington said the officer will file a statement later.


I have not been to Paranoia Academy, but how often do people run over cops rather than just try to escape? And even if it occurs a great deal, in the time to draw your weapon and fire *point blank* at the person behind the wheel, can’t you just… get out of the way?

What was the worst-case scenario here? An adult would have purchased a drug that is legal in several U.S. states, a drug that cannot be used to mow down 9 people in a church. Yet, resources are wasted on an undercover “sting” of someone buying marijuana. And now a 19-year-old is dead. DEAD. Why? What the the hell is wrong with a state where this kid could have legally bought an assault rifle, even if he had a history of mental problems, but he’s shot dead because he *drove* someone to buy pot.

If Zachary Hammond lived in Washington or Colorado, he’d be alive. South Carolina, you need to explain to the rest of the civilized world how your residents are safer because of the laws that led to this young man’s death.


1 Comment

Posted by on August 1, 2015 in Social Commentary


Tags: , , ,

Stop Second-Guessing Sandra…

I’m done with the “well-meaning” American liberals who wonder why Sandra Bland‬ “argued” with the cops. It’s the second-cousin of questioning why she “wore that tight dress” or “drank too much” at that party (and the fact that some so-called feminists don’t see this point is its own condemnation and underscores the schism between black women and mainstream feminism). However, if you have never “argued” with a cop, it’s highly possible that a police officer has never intentionally provoked you. I don’t wonder why a battered spouse shoots her abusive husband. “Gee, shucks, my wife and I work out diaper duty in a rational manner. What got into her?”

It reminds me of the Richard Pryor routine, “Niggers vs. Police”:

“Cops put a hurtin’ on your ass, man. You know, they really degrade you. White folks don’t believe that shit, they don’t believe cops degrade. ‘Ah, come on, those beatings, those people are resisting arrest. I’m tired of this harassment of police officers.’ That’s ’cause the police live in your neighborhood, see, and you be knowin’ ’em as Officer Timpson. ’Hello, Officer Timpson, going bowling tonight? Yes, nice Pinto you have.’ Niggers don’t know them like that. See, white folks get a ticket, they pull over, ‘Hey, Officer, yes, glad to be of help, cheerio!’ A nigger got to be talkin’ ’bout, ’I am reaching into my pocket for my license! ’Cause I don’t wanna be no motherfucking accident!’”

Not much has changed since the year I was born (!). I recall as a kid when a cop forced my barely adult cousin to peel the window tinting from her car while she wept. But you know, at least she’s alive, right? When you advise blacks to not “argue” with cops because they are “edgy” and “who knows?” what might happen, you are conceding that they are not law enforcement officers but gangsters. When a member of Tony Soprano’s crew comes around for his protection money, I probably won’t give him lip. But he doesn’t claim to “protect and serve” and recognize any basic Constitutional rights. Just because you couldn’t hack with the Gambinos doesn’t mean you should put on a badge.

Leave a comment

Posted by on July 23, 2015 in Social Commentary


Tags: , ,

This Time I Know It’s For Real…

Abigail Fitzgerald (now Burns) was married in front of a sizable assemblage, even for a Catholic, at the Willows Lodge in Woodinville, about a half-hour north of Seattle. Of all the weddings Gina Merrick had attended in the past decade — the flurry of wedlock that began for her at twenty-five, she thought this one was fine. She didn’t rank weddings, preferring instead to classify them, as she did everything else, as either “good” or “bad,” and much like “right” and “wrong,” there was more diversity in what she included in the latter group.

Gina, stirring a spoon in her coffee cup that contained no cream or sugar, sat next to a vacant space at Table Six where a pearl-finish place card bearing the name “Sara Richter” rested like a headstone above an untouched plate of food. Surrounding her were her friends Brenda Waylen, Margaret Ashe, and Pauline Goodman. Their husbands had all been excused after behaving well during the speeches and champagne toasts and had gathered in the garden with beers to wait out the reception.

“‘This Time I Know It’s For Real’ is a curious choice for a wedding song,’” Gina said suddenly. She’d sipped her coffee in silence for several minutes now. “It implies a checkered past.”

“Yeah, right, yeah,” Brenda said, nodding. This did not indicate actual agreement or even that she was actually listening, but it was a method of conversation that had gotten her through college and assorted book clubs.

“Don’t you think it was really super fun for a first dance?” Margaret phrased all her statements in the form of questions, like a Jeopardy! contestant.

“No,” Gina said, “I thought it was really ‘At Last’ desperate.”

Margaret flashed an apologetic half smile, as she did whenever she disagreed with someone, and flung a lock of coal-black hair, flecked with white, over her shoulder, which she did whenever she was about to be disagreeable. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to marry their college boyfriend, after all.”

Gina tapped her spoon sharply against the saucer. “Luck had nothing to do with it,” she said. “I knew what I wanted, so I didn’t waste my twenties dating bike messengers and struggling bipolar writers.” These weren’t hypotheticals but references to Abby’s previous romantic entanglements.

Across the table, Pauline Goodman nudged a bite-sized piece of beef tenderloin onto her fork. She was a painfully slow eater who always complained midway through a meal that her food was cold. The three women were in the same college sorority with Gina, but Pauline, with her vague hairstyle and first-day-in-heels posture, was the one Gina’s mother couldn’t accept as a member of her beloved Gamma Phi. At the University of Georgia — or “Ugh!” as Gina grew up calling it — Ellen Payton and her sisters would never have blackballed someone like Pauline because she would’ve known better than to bother rushing at all.

Pauline looked over at Gina through cloudy, gray eyes. Her voice was dreary and musty.

“I was still single at twenty-seven,” she said, as if measuring the age by the standards of the Tudor era. “I prayed and prayed. A month later, I met Walter.”

“I’m sure you took some action,” Gina insisted.

“No, I just prayed. What I realized later was that all along I was praying for him.”

“Yes, you mentioned that at your reception.” The overcooked buffet chicken and the bride making a toast at her own wedding had landed Pauline’s big day in Gina’s “bad” column. “But I don’t think the Good Lord runs a welfare office. Nothing in life comes without effort and planning.”

— from The Wrong Questions

Leave a comment

Posted by on July 21, 2015 in The Wrong Questions


Tags: , , , , , ,

Trump VIII….

The very first U.S. president was a general, as were many who followed him. However, military operations are much different now. There aren’t that many Pattons or MacArthurs left. I think this is why Trump is so popular among conservative voters. He’s a “business magnate,” which the modern-day equivalent to a pirate or a conquistador. And deep down, Americans — who rejected the monarchy and embraced democracy, which is a form of monarchy that is spelled differently — have an affection for the emotional unstable borderline personalities that were prominent on the throne. That is true leadership to them. Measured diplomacy is skullduggery. They don’t want their leaders to be politicians… that’s for ambassadors. And, after all, can’t you picture Trump, more so than Jeb Bush and especially Lindsey Graham, in the following scenes?

1 Comment

Posted by on July 15, 2015 in Political Theatre


Tags: ,

Hairy legs and all…

I… have nothing. I’m sorry. This is just mic-drop stupidity here.

Alabama Supreme Court Chief Justice Roy Moore told a church gathering on Sunday that the U.S. Supreme Court “destroyed the institution of God,” when they legalized same-sex marriage earlier this month.

Whoa, that’s harsh. I wonder what drove them to do such a thing?

“Despite what they think, it’s not their doing. Satan drives us. He’s out there destroying everything God created including us as human beings.”

Oh, so the devil made them do it. What else has John Milton been up to?

In comments later, Moore elaborated on the sexual revolution before rambling on about gender roles, saying,  “When you start teaching kids that they have the right to choose whether they are male or female. When you talk about three or four years old, you know what they think. They don’t know much. They may learn fast. And when they get in their mind they can be a man if they’re a girl or a woman if they are a boy, I don’t know what the end is going to be. Except it will come down to things like when you take your little girl to the girl’s bathroom and you wait outside and you see some guy with hairy legs going into that bathroom, what are you going to do? What are you going to do? Are you going to stand back and let that guy go in the bathroom with your little girl?”

It seems like he’s advocating for violence against trans women. He doesn’t say “Are you going to stand back and let your little girl go into the bathroom…” with the person who doesn’t even have the decency to star in a Nair commercial. He says, “Are you going to let that *guy* go in the bathroom…”

Maybe because I’m not insane and all, but I don’t understand this obsession with transgendered people using what some insist is the “wrong” restroom. From the Duggars to this guy, the specter is always raised of sexual predators lurking around the stalls. Isn’t it possible these people just want to use the restroom? When I’m there, sex is the last thing on my mind. It’s usually the sixteen ounces of coffee I drank that morning.

Leave a comment

Posted by on July 13, 2015 in Political Theatre


Tags: , , ,

Roger Rees…

Leave a comment

Posted by on July 11, 2015 in Uncategorized



Sweet Potato Pie…

Jane Hind dropped by for dessert after Thanksgiving dinner with her boyfriend’s family. “There was chili on the turkey, chili in the stuffing, chili in the scalloped potatoes,” she told Gina while helping herself to a slice of sweet potato pie. “I couldn’t chance the pumpkin flan.”

Chris Beltran, after a quick hello, had hurried into the den where Charlie, Tom, and Frank watched the Seahawks game. Outside the kitchen, Teresa Chapman banged her thumbs against a shaking BlackBerry. Brushing past her, Jane mumbled “excuse me” between chews.

“I always thought this would taste like mashed potato pie… just, you know, with a different color.” She scooped up the velvety filling with her fork. “But it’s bomb.”

“Sara made it this morning,” Gina said. “She doesn’t add any of those awful Yankee touches.” She shuddered. “You can’t trust people who’d ruin a perfectly good pie with marshmallows.”

Teresa swore under her breath and looked ready to hurl the offending BlackBerry at the wall. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” She turned to Gina. “I have to hop on a call.” She started toward Payton and Cody’s bedroom, which was closest, but the cold wind of Gina’s voice held her in place.

“Sara’s in there,” Gina explained. “She’s taking a little breather after dinner. Feel free to use the master suite. Charlie should have made the bed after his nap earlier.”

“Your sister-in-law looks stressed,” Jane noted after watching Teresa slam the bedroom door shut behind her.

“She always is,” Gina stated without sympathy. “She’s just not cut out for corporate life. She should rightly work in some low-pressure field — like a small-town librarian or a public schoolteacher.”

“Why doesn’t she?”

The ice in Gina’s glass rattled sharply as she motioned toward the far end of the living room.

“Didn’t you notice the von Trapp family over there? Someone’s gotta keep that sad little Multnomah roof over their heads.”

Jane looked up from her dessert plate. She picked out the small, ponytailed man wrangling the attending children as Teresa’s husband, Ray. He was rail thin except for a pot belly and flabby chest, which jiggled under his loose turtleneck sweater.

“What does her husband do?”

“Nothing,” Gina declared. “He stays home with the kids.”

“Typical,” Jane said. “Women had this whole movement so we could do what we want with our lives, and men swoop in and use it as an excuse to lie around and watch sports.”

“I don’t think he’s into sports,” Gina remarked, lifting a dark eyebrow. “He was a dance-theatre major at Reed.”

Jane shook her head, her tan face wearing a half-frown. “Then how did Teresa not know he was a deadbeat? That’s like betting on the Clippers.”

“It’s possible she thought he was the best of the lot. After all, she attended a college with no Greek system, no business major, no grades, not even an official ranking. It’s like I tell the girls: You have to be vigilant regarding your surroundings, both personally and professionally. Just because there’s a crop doesn’t mean there’s any cream.”

Jane flicked brown crumbs off her fingers.

“Maybe she’s happy,” Jane said as the muffled shouts of one side of a tense argument threatened to break down Charlie and Gina’s door. “I do caution my clients, though, not to anchor themselves to some fixer-upper. It’s almost always a waste of time and energy. Now, me and the world’s hottest man? He was turn-key ready when we met.”

“I suppose,” Gina said casually, and then more forcefully, “I assume you didn’t share this philosophy with Cindy Prior when you sold her that landfill in the Central District.”

Jane’s response was like a prerecorded message: “It’s an up-and-coming neighborhood.” She set her plate on a sideboard. “Look, Cindy was at the point in her life when it was now or never. I introduced her to the best available property within her reach. Now, she can say she’s a homeowner. You know what that means in the world? When you die, there’s an estate sale. When you’re a renter, the super just calls Goodwill.”

— from The Wrong Questions

Leave a comment

Posted by on July 8, 2015 in Uncategorized


More about that damn cake…

From US Weekly:

Candace Cameron Bure assumed a seat at The View’s co-host table for the Hot Topics segment on the Tuesday, July 7 episode, and things got typically heated. An ultra-conservative Christian, Cameron Bure couldn’t help but butt heads with co-host Raven-Symone one topic, which discussed an Oregon bakery’s decision to refuse service to a lesbian couple.

“The Oregon law bars businesses from discriminating against sexual orientation, race, disability, age or religion,” Symone argued, “and to me, it’s the same exact thing that they did back in the day saying that black people couldn’t do certain things because it’s my ‘religious belief.'”

Fuller House’s Cameron Bure, 39, quickly accused Symone, a fellow child star, of comparing apples to oranges. “I don’t think this is discrimination at all. This is about freedom of association,” she said. “It’s about constitutional rights. It’s about First Amendment rights. We do have the right to still choose who we associate with.”

Things might have changed since Ms.Bure attended Fake Law School, but the first amendment does not allow owners of “public accommodations” (this includes most businesses) to discriminate against people based on their race, color, religion, or national origin. Gays are not explicitly part of those protected groups but the existence of the groups in the first place would imply that there is a precedent for not allowing blatant discrimination by business owners.
(It could also be argued that if a business can’t discriminate against people because of their religion then a business owners shouldn’t be able to discriminate because of their religion. I know that’s an appeal to fairness, and I’m not sure how often that turns up in a sermon these days.)
Also, freedom of association is hardly a right you can apply to a job where you serve the public. Cab drivers (theoretically) cannot choose who they pick up and a coffee shop can’t choose who they overcharge for a latte. Again, I appeal perhaps pointlessly to the concept of fairness but what seems less “American”: A citizen being turned away from a business because of who he or she is, or a business owner or employee having to serve a meal to or rent a hotel room to someone whose sexuality, race, or religion they don’t like?
1 Comment

Posted by on July 8, 2015 in Social Commentary


Tags: , ,