Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

Cock-A-Doodle Don't

I'm a big fan of creative sentencing.  I like it when the person sitting on the bench deviates from the standard sentencing guidlines and hands down a punishment that actually hits home - usually via public humiliation.

Yeah - public humiliation - those are the best.

Remember Judge David Hostetler of Coshocton, Ohio?  He's the legal eagle who not only has sentenced a man who had run away from police after a traffic accident to having to jog around the city block where the jail is located every other day for an hour - he's also the creative genius who garnered worldwide attention in 2001 when he ordered two men to dress in women's clothing and walk down Main Street.  Their crime?  Throwing beer bottles at a car and taunting a woman.

Judge Mike Erwin of Baton Rouge, who does not suffer fools lightly, once asked a group of four young men who came before him for stealing an exotic bird from a pet store, "How did anyone think this was a good idea?".  The best any of the college students could do was shrug.  He sentenced them to having to write "I will not do stupid things" 2,500 times, plus an essay.

In Michigan, Judge Beverley Nettles-Nickerson sentenced a woman, who claimed to be a Hurricane Katrina victim in order to get free rent, to cleaning houses.

Some are less than laughable, but bring home the point and clarity just as well.  Judge Louis H. Schiff, of Broward County Florida regularly sentenced teenage drivers who came before him for  violations such as driving without a license or on a suspended license to having to take pictures of roadside memorials of those teens who died in traffic accidents.

Sometimes the punishment replicates the crime, instantly forcing the perpetrator to experience what the victim went through.  Judge Michael A. Cicconetti sentenced two men who had been caught paintballing a woman's house to having to paintball one of their own cars and then clean it up completely.  The car was white.  The paint was bright pink.

Pink is the favorite color of one of America's most infamous jailers, Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who runs "tent city" in Arizona.  There is no coddling at this bare bones jail, and the inmates are all forced to wear pink uniforms.

Creative sentencing is nothing new.  Its purpose, mainly to drive home a point much better than the normal slap on the wrist many receive for misdemeanor crimes.  Dressing like a woman had a much better effect on those guys than spending a few days constipating an already overcrowded jailhouse.

Which brings us to today's winners of the Nice-Ass-Too-Bad-It's-On-Their-Shoulders Award - Daniel Chapdelaine, Fabian Rodriguez-Ramirez, and Martin Soto of Ohio.

It seems all three men came before Judge Cicconetti for soliciting sex - an act that may not be illegal in Nevada, home of Sin City, but one that doesn't play very well in the Buckeye State. 

Borrowing from the World Famous Chicken Ranch in Nevada - a place selling a type of "meat" never envisioned by Bo Pilgrim  - the men must take turns not only carrying a sign which reads "No Chicken Ranch In Painesville", but do it while wearing a bright yellow chicken costume.

(Hmmm... wasn't he in last night's episode of Entourage???  Oh wait - that was Drama gone "furry" in a bunny suit - nevermind... but now that I brought it up, that WAS the funniest ten seconds of television I have seen in a long, long time.)

Incidentally, the ranch originally got its name because during the Depression, men were actually able to trade poultry for pus... well, you get my meaning.

The men were to take turns wearing the costume outside the courthouse between 4-7 pm this past Thursday, in exchange for having their 30 day jail sentence suspended.

No word yet as to whether this punishment had an impact on the three, or will serve as a deterrent to anyone else who may be contemplating soliciting for a "Full Meal Deal" in the future.

Peace = Goal? Or Goal = Peace?

By now, regular readers are well aware that I am soccer fan - actually, scratch that - I am a futball fan.

Futball is the accepted name of the sport everywhere on this planet except here in the good ol' US of A where we are always arrogant enough to change things, anything, just because we can.  (And to those many folks who ignorantly declare it's just a bunch of men or women chasing a ball?  You make me laugh.  Try it.  You and your Chicago Bears inspired beer gut won't last two minutes in this highly demanding, extremely physical, skills-mandatory sport.)

Baseball may be our national pasttime, our bragging right, if you will.  But baseball's origins in this country (exact dates vary depending upon source material) only date back to the 1800s.

Futball, or football, the world's sport, can be traced, according to FIFA (the modern day sport's governing body), back to BC.  In fact, the "very earliest form of the game for which there is scientific evidence was an exercise of precisely this skilful technique dating back to the 2nd and 3rd centuries B.C. in China (the game of Cuju)."

In addition, the Roman game Harpastum is thought to be a distant ancestor of football. It is also documented that various forms of football were played in medieval Europe, though rules varied greatly by both period and location.

But even when we Americans finally relent, letting it wash ashore here, we change its name.

Soccer.

Oh well.  PotAto, Potato.  It's still the same game and I am a fan.

So it's no surprise that I have been watching with interest, the Iraqi team's advancement through gameplay in the Asian Cup - it was their first appearance in the finals in this particular tournament.

This past Wednesday, the Iraqi team, named "Lions of the Two Rivers, a team no one considered to be a true contender in the Cup, held steady throughout the early rounds, earning their place in the finals after defeating 2002 World Cup semifinalist South Korea in a shoot-out.

Celebration was instantaneous throughout Iraq - and for a brief moment, being a Sunni or Shiite did not matter - they were all Iraqis and they were all suffused with pride.

And it is that moment on which I would like to comment. 

You see, when I say that soccer, football, futball - whatever - is the world's sport - I mean exactly that.  It is played with passion in nearly every country, large, small, infinitesimal.

As opposed to the United States where sports loyaties are divided along statelines, regions, hometowns - (seriously, put the Steelers in a Superbowl, I'll watch.  Dallas Cowboys?  Absolutely.  Cincinnati Reds in a World Series.  I'd have some interest.  Then again, I have lived in each of these places.  Mets?  Yankees?  Cubs?  Raiders? Bears? Packers?  Could not care less) - soccer, the world over, unifies entire countries, it glues people of every financial strata together, it makes mates out of bums and brokers.  It shuts down whole workdays when a country's team is on the telly.

That's what was so great about watching from afar as the country of Iraq, a country that should be mainlining Prozac due to continued nerves, constant stress, and depression, was celebrating, embracing, rejoicing.

Rejoicing, of course, until some a-holes decided all those throngs of people in the streets of Bagdad were ripe for the car bomb picking and killed roughly 50.

Yet amazingly, in the face of further death and destruction, the country again sat on edge today watching as their Lions took on three time Asian Cup champs, Saudi Arabia, in the finals - AND WON.

A gorgeous header sent screaming into the goal from captain Younis Mahmoud Khalaf in the 71st minute sealed the deal.

As the final whistle blew shortly after the 90th minute, the streets of Iraq erupted yet again - only this time, it was with celebration and exuberance, pride and confetti, not bombs and body parts - all vehicular traffic, in Bagdad at least, from cars and trucks to cycles and bikes have been forbidden, and remain so until Monday morning.

Yes, there are many folks around their country doing the obligatory Middle Eastern whoop-de-doo - firing guns into the air - but so far, the celebrations have been the focus, and the only thing running in the streets are happy countrymen - not their blood.

I realize this unity will not last.  As soon as the blush is off the celebratory rose, the people will go back to hating one another for reasons so old most of them have no true idea what the origins may be.

But for today - for this brief shining moment - futball, the WORLD'S sport - has done what it does so well.  Made friends of enemies.  It has Hatfields rejoicing with McCoys.

Perhaps if more people in this country would stop and take a look at what is happening in Iraq because of a sport we seem to hold in such conceited disdain, the USA just might give soccer a chance.

It really does have more to offer than just a good looking guy named Beckham.

Slap Happy or Sex Offenders?

I have been watching the case of two middle school boys, Corey Mashburn and Ryan Cornelison, of McMinnville, Oregon, who were arrested back in February and are facing the possibility of extended jail time (juvenile detention facility), and being branded as sex offenders.

Their crime?

Molestation? Rape? Bestiality? (It’s a fair question – after all, I have documented for you the many cases of that type taking place up in the Northwest...)

No. Not even close.

It seems they were busted for some hallway hijinks.

They, like many of the girls and boys in their school, routinely slap other girls and boys on the ass when passing in the hallways.

It’s an admitted form of "hello", a "secret handshake", if you will, among their peers.

Appropriate? No. I'm not defending it.  And when taken out of context, absolutely not.

Yet the number of kids who regularly indulged in this sign language are many, too many to count, and far more than the peers who have come forward defending the boys and admitting they, too, get slap happy between classes – meaning no harm.

But a couple girls did take offense at being swatted, and the ensuing fallout ended with Corey and Ryan being taken away from their school in handcuffs.

Court papers filed said the boys touched the buttocks of several girls, and also that Cory touched a girl's breasts. But police reports filed state that other students, both boys and girls, routinely slapped each other on the bottoms.

OK – again, do I think the behavior is appropriate? No. If full grown men want to smack each other’s asses on the football field, have at it. But a bunch of hormone laden 13 year olds who have all seen too many episodes of The Real World and MTV Spring Break? Keep your hands to yourself, please.

And the breast thing? Not kosher at all.

But do I think this needs to be handled in a courtroom? Do I agree these boys should be branded and forced to register as sex offenders?

You bet your bottom dollar I don’t.

What you have here is an unacceptable, questionable behavior that became accepted (by most) because of regular use. None of the kids who have come forward have really defended it as being a "good" idea, but none of them have said they did it to make another student feel threatened – if anything, it was done to convey just the opposite.

Quite frankly, given the frequency of use, and the number of kids doing it, my bigger question is Where were the teachers who are supposed to police the halls during class changing?

The school is missing out on a golden opportunity to talk in real world terms to their students about the behavior. To talk about why, in this day and age, things like this – even if the majority thinks it’s ok, are not ok because someone might take offense.

And the only other people who should be involved in this are the parents of all the kids – not the police, the judges, or a jury.

The education needs to start at home. Respect for other’s privacy, personal space, and feelings should be preached as often as "brush your teeth" and "say Please and Thank you".

Sadly they are not.

With three daughters, believe me, I hear about the antics in the classrooms and hallways. I know how frisky kids get, the double entendres they like to throw around, the sexual innuendo that is a part of the hallway vernacular.

Part of it is simply puberty playing out. They are testing the waters of their sexual feelings and new awakenings. It’s to be expected - within reason.  Wedgies?  Have been around forever.  Bra strap snapping and joking about being able to see it through a girl's shirt?  That's practically a rite of passage.

But some kids do cross the line. Some kids – boys and girls alike – "push up" (I’m using a term from my daughter) on other students, being overtly sexual, making advances that are neither solicited or well received.

Those are the students who do need taken to the office. Those are the ones who need the reprimand, whether from other students in the hallways (peer pressure can be used for good, not just evil), or from the principal via detention or suspension.

Personally, I have taught my daughters about personal space, appropriate touching, and physical violations since they were two. And anyone who would dare to "push up" on one of them will quickly find themselves eating their locker or clutching their "violated gonads" facedown on the floor.

But back to Corey and Ryan.

When they were taken out in handcuffs, they were initially charged with five counts of felony sex abuse and spent several days in detention. They also were temporarily suspended from school.

At a court hearing, however, two of the girls recanted, saying they never felt threatened or inappropriately touched by the boys. (I have a feeling they never envisioned their complaint would get this out of hand either.)

The judge then released the boys, but barred them from school and required that they be subject to constant adult supervision.

Due to public outcry, hundreds of emails and phone calls, and a lot of bad press, the district attorney has backed off - the felony charges have been dropped and the DA is now saying probation would be an "appropriate punishment".

But the boys, if convicted at an Aug. 20 trial, still face the possibility of some jail time or registering for life as sex offenders.

Criminalizing normal adolescent behavior is not the answer. We’re talking about behaviors that have existed since the first hard-on. Behaviors that need to be discussed, decoded, and modified by parental involvement and open discussion.

Both Corey and Ryan admit that what they were engaging in was wrong, they see that now. They also have apologized to those who were offended – that was never their intent.

But do they need jail time and to be tagged with the worst title in our society - "sex offender"?  That term needs to be saved for true criminals, for those who prey upon children, rape innocent joggers, molest neighbors, and violently violate another person's body.

Those are sexual predators, offenders.  Does that sound like the right title for two kids who smacked a few booties?

No.

But there is a district attorney who could use a couple good wallops – one slap upside his ass, and another hard one, right upside his overzealous head.

Suuuuuuuue Meeeee! Here Pig, Pig, Pig, Pig!

I’ve often written about what a litigious bunch of misfits we are – sueing over every little slight, every personal foible that can somehow be twisted and blamed on someone else, and every misunderstanding that comes down the pike.

Corporations are so scared of the bad PR that can come from even the tiniest lawsuit, and have set such a juicy precedent of throwing money at every Tom, Dick, and Sherri who claim they found a hair in their can of soup, that people routinely claim to find fingertips, roaches, car parts, and fried mice in their chili, ice cream, and bag of Cheese Doodles.

The majority of which have found their way into the product with the help of those same plaintiffs.

People are greedy. Period. It’s an indefensible trait of human nature, and while many of us manage to keep it under control, there are those for whom Ebeneezer Scroogeness is written deep in the code of their DNA.

And while I have great disdain for the majority of personal lawsuits filed in this country – I truly think if people actually TALKED, instead of looking at one another and seeing cartoon dollar signs instead of a person, there would be far less crowding in the courtrooms.

Which brings us to today’s subject, Washington State dentist, Robert Woo, and his former dental assistant, a woman who had worked for him for years, upon whom he played a practical joke.

Here are the basics...

The woman, who had worked for Woo for five years, and was firmly part of the "office family", was a good assistant and a pot-bellied pig fanatic. (That's fine - we all have our little hobbies - some of us collect shot glasses or Star Trek memorabilia - she collected pigs)  In fact, her office conversations were liberally peppered with references to "Walter", her own much-loved pig, and the various other abandoned swine she cared for.

No, I did not know there was an abandoned pig problem in this country – see? You’re never too old to learn something.

Anyhoo – as is to be expected when people work together day in and day out, there was fun banter, personal jabs and jokes – Woo liked to tease that he would like to barbeque Walter, and once went on a wild boar hunting trip and brought back a picture of a dead one.

OK, fine – not exactly Charm School etiquette, and yes, I completely agree that office "fun" is almost always sophomoric and juvenile, but no one was actually stalking her house with visions of Oscar Meyer dancing in their heads.

So, this being a running joke – when the assistant needed to have two teeth replaced with implants, a procedure Dr. Woo offered to perform – Robert decided to play a little practical joke on her.

While she was under sedation, he placed two fake boar’s tusks in her mouth and took pictures.

I’m sure all involved squealed like pigs at the hilarity of the moment.

He then completed the real implants and life went on.

Until... (insert Jaws music)

Until the pictures found their way into her hands – at which point SHE squealed like a pig at the joke played on her while she was obviously incapacitated.

Look, I am not defending the practical joke. It was stupid – they all are. All involved did take advantage of her unconscious state. But they did not undress her, put her in any compromising positions, or gang rape her and post a video online.

All things that HAVE been done to folks in the dental chair while under sedation.

But this woman, who yukked along with her colleagues for five years, decided her feelings had been hurt to such an extent, she was entitled to some money to help them feel better. So she sued.

She sued for invasion of privacy, infliction of emotional distress and medical negligence.

Dr. Woo ended up settling with her for $250,000.

THAT I really don’t agree with.

People’s feelings get hurt every day. We play practical jokes on one another regularly – it breaks up the monotony. And had it been done to a regular patient? Yes, I could see a bit of recompense and disciplinary action being taken. But this was a woman who was in on all the jokes and belonged to a office community where everyone routinely teased and got along fine.

But as much as I don’t think she needed a quarter million dollars for her bruised ego, what happened next is what I really don’t agree with.

Dr. Woo, like any medical practitioner, carries malpractice insurance. So when she first sued him, he sought defense with his insurance company, Fireman’s, to help him.

They turned him down because his misdeed did not fall under "dental services".

Fair enough. It’s not like he was actively implanting the fake tusks.

But that wasn’t good enough for Dr. Woo. You see, there is an indisputable law of nature which reads, "All shit must flow downhill" and he was not about to let hers rest on him.

So for the last eight years, he has fought a legal battle against Fireman’s Fund Insurance, taking his case all the way to the state Supreme Court.

Who, yesterday, not only ruled in his favor, but awarded him $750,000 a jury had once granted him, but was overturned on appeal.

He will not only receive that $750,000 in damages and attorney fees, Woo is also to be reimbursed the $250,000 that he paid to settle the original lawsuit.

Do the math. A million dollars and eight years of court time wasted on a practical joke and some hurt feelings.

A million dollars.

It’s enough to make me cut off my own fingertip and drop in it my next cup of Yoplait.

Let The Punishment Replicate The Crime

Like every decent human being who has read the chilling details of the Petit family in Connecticut, my stomach has turned, my heart has broken, and my brain has been in full-on "scream" mode for the past 24 hours.

The details emerging from the murder scene – their home – only make it scream louder.

This family – Dr. William Petit, his wife, Jennifer, and their two daughters, Hayley, 17, and Michaela, only 11 - were asleep in their home when two wastes of flesh broke in and began a terror siege that would not end until the next day when the house was on fire, the mother was strangled, and the daughters were dead of smoke inhalation.

According to updated information released by police, Joshua Komisarjevsky, 26, and Steven Hayes, 44, followed Jennifer and Michaela home from the grocery store Sunday evening, then went to a Walmart where they purchased an air rifle and rope.

They then entered the home around 3am – beating William with a bat before throwing him down the basement stairs and tying him up.

This was merciful compared to what was endured by the mother and daughters who were tied to their beds and repeatedly raped.

I need to pause for a moment to quiet the screaming in my head. I have three daughters, one of whom turns 11 in two weeks, and the thought of what young Michaela endured is far too easy to imagine.

Eleven is a baby. Eleven is a stick of gum with legs. Eleven is not ready to have sex with an adult, let alone be brutally raped over and over by two.

And no, I am not saying it makes it less horrible for her older sister or mother – I am simply saying, her body is that of a child, I can see her in my youngest daughter, and I am full of rage at what these sacks of shit did to her.

As the sun came up on the house of horrors, one of the criminals took Jennifer to the bank, staying outside while she went in to withdraw $15,000 for him. She was able to convey to the teller what was taking place, and the teller contacted the police.

Unfortunately, by the time the police arrived at the home of the Petits, Jennifer had been strangled, gasoline had been poured around the beds of the two daughters who were still tied down, and the house was set on fire.

The two sadists (I’m sorry, I can not refer to them as men or people – they are neither) were caught after ramming two police cars while trying to escape in one of the family's vehicles.

William managed to somehow make it up the basement steps and hurl himself outside – he remains in the hospital with head injuries.

As a parent, I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around what this man is experiencing. To try to imagine the helplessness he felt as he could surely hear what was happening to his family above him and not be able to get to them. To now have to face taking the next breath without his wife and daughters taking it with him.  He is a parent, and by all accounts, a good, decent, loving one.  (As was Jennifer.) And any parent like that - good, decent, loving - would gladly lay down their life, endure any pain, torture, horror imaginable in order to spare their child even an ounce of fear and misery.

I asked my husband, although I was certain I already knew his answer, and yes, he replied, he would simply want to be dead too. He would not be able to bear the unimaginable violent loss of me and his precious daughters.

The two shitheels remain in jail, now charged with assault, sexual assault, kidnapping, burglary, robbery, arson, larceny and risk of injury to children. Additional charges are pending, and the two men could face the death penalty.

Prosecutor Michael Dearington said he had not yet decided whether to pursue the death penalty, however.

"I know the public consensus is they should be fried tomorrow," he said.

Gee, Michael, ya think?

Quite frankly, death is too good for these two. A lethal injection is far too humane, especially when it would be administered only after the requisite languish-on-their-asses-for-years-at-taxpayers'-expense holiday.

No, this is a case where they were caught dead-handed. Their DNA can be found all over and in the females. There is a living witness.

THEY. ARE. GUILTY.

Their punishment needs to be severe, immediate, heinous. It needs to send a message to other would-be rapist-murderers who might be contemplating or following their next victim.

They need to be raped repeatedly – use some of those rape stands from the Vicks’ property and some broom handles - then beaten with a baseball bat, then tied down, doused with gasoline, and set ablaze.

Heartless? Yes. Sadistic? You bet. Justice? In spades, baby.

At some point there has to start being serious, dire, deathly, horrendous consequences for those who would prey upon the innocent people in our society. A dragged out trial, three meals a day, a private cell on death row, and years and years in which to reimagine their crime is not a deterrent – it is a vacation.

And don’t tell me I need to forgive these creatures, to try to understand them, to pray for them.

NO.

I will save my prayers for William Petit. I will ask God to comfort him and to care for his family.

I do not want to understand the monsters who did this.

I do not need to understand Wayne Albert Bleyle, the respiratory therapist sentenced to 45 years for repeatedly molesting countless brain damaged and incapacitated children - his patients.  To quote him, he has molested and taken pornographic pictures of as many children "as there are snowflakes".

These people do not deserve forgiveness. Quite frankly, they don't deserve oxygen.  Every breath they take is an afront to decent people everywhere.

There is no forgiveness for the horrors they dished out.  (And please don't bang your Bible at me.  I may not go to church, but I do believe in God, and as a good former Catechism student know the penalty for actions such as theirs.)

They are murderers. They are going to Hell. Which is surely becoming more overcrowded than an inner city school these days.

I only hope Satan has that annex finished by the time we finally get around to sending these two.

Bottoms Up For Chung Fundraiser!

Now that Roy Pearson has crawled back under the rock from which he emerged in order to sue his dry cleaners for $54 million over a pair of pants - the media circus has moved on to more important subjects like ... the website offering half off all redhead porn in honor of Lindsay Lohan's latest "PR" efforts.

I'm not even kidding - but that's not the point of this piece... (no fun intended..)

No - the reason for this one is that those uber-pants - worth enough to clothe the bottom halves of nine Bionic Steve Austins - were finally put to good use.

Last evening, at a fundraiser thrown by the The American Tort Reform Association and the U.S. Chamber of Commerce Institute for Legal Reform, those very pants were on display as folks took turns having their picture taken with them and donating money to help defray the near $100K in legal bills incurred by the Chungs as they defended themselves against Pearson.

Over $64,000 was raised and more donations continue to come in.

Defense attorney Chris Manning addressed the crowd of nearly 150, "Without your support, the Chungs could very well have gone bankrupt."

The Chungs have filed a motion seeking to force Pearson to pay their legal fees - which I sincerely hope happens.  That this man represents the legal profession is enough to make the lady in the scales of justice statue happy she is blindfolded and cannot see his pathetic ass.

Should the judge grant their motion, all monies raised thusfar will be donated to charity.

As for the pants?  No takers on those yet.  Then again, I've heard they have a suspiciously large crotch seam - but it's no surprise to me considering Pearson has such big balls.

Glazed Crab Claw Anyone?

One of the things I love most about human beings is our entreprenurial spirit.

Have a great idea?  Did the invention lightbulb over your head flick on in a dream? Brainstormed up a way to fill a need people didn't even know they had? 

I truly enjoy watching ordinary folks identify a niche, a void, an angle - then take their idea and run with it all the way to the bank.

Pet Rocks?  Sure they were stupid.  I mean who among us doesn't have access to rocks and some Elmer's Glue?  Yet somehow, when package in a square box with some directions for its care, we ALL cleaned off the store shelves, proudly adopting these little creatures for our homes and offices.

Mood rings?  Don't lie.  You know you had one.  Hell, I burned through FIVE - I was extra moody during that pubescent time of my life. 

And what about food products?  Ron Popeil has made a mint for years convincing us that we can dehydrate everything from steak to fruit to our own underwear and they will all taste great and save us money!  George Foreman deserves a Nobel Prize for dreaming up a slanty little grill with a tray to catch the fat.

Unique restaurants pop up like weeds everyday too.  Once considered a side item, Chicken Wings have come into their own and there are no less than ten chains solely devoted to this savory little bar food. 

Starbucks is the perfect example of a company identifying a niche market, a need we didn't know we had (to creatively order our legal stimulants - Grande, No Foam, Decaf, Non fat, Caramel Macchiato - extra whipped cream and caramel - shut up, I asked for nonfat milk, didn't I? - thus affording us the illusion that we are cultured and in control of some aspect of our lives), a need now filled to the brim on every street corner around the world and topped with financial foam.

Again, I love seeing someone come up with an idea and run all the bases with it.  Which brings me to the subject of this piece:  A retaurant I drove past on my way from Austin to Houston this past weekend.

And were I simply to tell you the name of the place, you would surely fill the comments with disbelief ranging from "Linda, you're full of poo" to "Linda, don't you know it's against the law to drink and drive?"

So here are the pictures...

Yum.

Nothing like giving in to that midnight craving for Cream Filled Halibut or Chocolate Glazed Crab Cakes, huh?

I'm not sure which would be more interesting - the smell of the place?  Or to find out they don't change the oil in the fryer between dunkings of donuts and Dover sole?

And before you ask, yes, I was curious (and nauseated) enough to Google this when I got home.  Apparently, this little town in Texas isn't the only place where the phenomenon exists.  Seafood & Donut places - catering to Cajun type cuisine - can be found across this great land of ours - in fact one review touts the Cajun Shrimp Stuffed Donuts...

Did I already say "Yum"?

I know, I know - I suppose it's not fair to pass judgment on something until you have actual knowledge about the subject, so I promise that the next time I pass through Giddings, if the OPEN light is on, I shall pop some Tums and bravely open the door.

After all ... I do like Cajun food, and I've never met a donut I didn't immediately befriend...

Hmmm, what to try first?  The Blackened Donut Holes or the Jelly Filled Jambalaya?

The You Tube Boob Tube Debates

I tuned in to CNN's innovative democratic presidential debate last evening.

Normally, especially this early into the whole I'm-better-than-you-and-you-and-you campaigning, I couldn't care less, but the spin on the format made for Must See TV.

All the questions had been submitted via video to You Tube from regular folk like you and me.

And the candidates had no idea what they were going to be asked.

THAT was the draw for me.  Hearing scripted responses over and over mean nothing.  Watching them have to think on their feet - that's priceless information when it comes to draining the pool in my mind.

CNN staffers waded through thousands of submissions and chose voters not only based on a cross section of states, but on the topics, and in some cases, levity they provided.

You had redneck goobers, cancer patients, soldiers, parents of dead soldiers, lesbians, and even a snowman who was concerned about global warming. 

Some questions were presented in the form of song.  Some were tear jerkingly poignant, turning the cold, faceless statistics candidates are used to addressing into living, breathing, hurting human beings.

And while I will always enjoy watching Anderson Cooper do anything - read me a dog food label, report from a hurricane, dance naked - what?  It could happen.  He is serious about investigative journalism...now, where was I? - I was more intrigued by the people behind the podiums as they took turns squirming, being funny, stating their records, defending their views, and having to think and respond immediately to the questions posed.

I found I like Barack Obama even more than before.  He comes across honest, straightforward, plainspoken, but incredibly intelligent and reasoned.

I found I like Hilary Clinton even less.  Not just because of the hideous coral suit she chose to play up the fact that she is a woman.  But because even speaking "off the cuff", she sounds disingenuous, and often disengaged.  Her favorite words - squeezed in often - are "comprehensive" and "strategic" - words I think are better suited to the work she has had done on her every youthening face.

I'm sorry - I just don't like her.

I do like John Edwards, and not just because he knows how to work that $400 haircut.  He has faced a lot in his life and seems like a decent man.  But I have to agree with Lori in TX's comments from the other day - I would be loathe to elect him into the Presidency because the likelihood his wife, Elizabeth, is going to die while he would be in office is, sadly and regrettably, very high.  They have young children.  The Presidency is not exactly a part time, flexible gig.  These children, regardless of the security and nanny situation available, do not deserve to lose their mother to cancer and lose their father to public office.

(And please don't feel a rant about that viewpoint is in order.  I truly hope, wish, pray that Mrs. Edwards lives many, many, many more years, but the truth is that the woman does have a devastating form of cancer that is not cureable.)

As for the others?  Mike Gravel, Joe Biden, Chris Dodd - they spoke fine, and Biden was actually very forceful in answering Iraq questions.  Bill Richardson, I continue to admire, he is forthright when he speaks and had the stones to flat out say No Child Left Behind basically sucks ass.

Then there is Dennis Kucinich, US Representative from Ohio.  Dennis, Dennis, Dennis.  You look like Gilbert Gottfried and sound like The Nutty Professor.  I know you like to routinely throw yourself into the presidential mix, however, it's never gonna happen.  You simply don't look the part, and we Americans are a shallow, $400-haircut-appreciating bunch.

The Republicans will get their turn to actually face the nation in September when CNN hosts a You Tube debate just for them.  I expect that one to be even more enlightening.

The challenge of thinking on their feet, not offending their party or their president, yet somehow distancing themselves in some fashion should be laughable.  This party currently has a reputation for talking about "the people" they are serving, but not wanting to actually meet us face to face.  That's messy.

I like messy.

Which is why I think I may just have to crank up the video camera, figure out the editing features on my puter, and submit a question or 3,000 myself...stay tuned

Lindsay's Newest LOWhan

I think the LA prison needs to either build a complete new wing, or at the bare minimum install a revolving door for the anticipated celebrity clientele who look to be following in the ankle cuffed footsteps of Paris Hilton.

It's not enough that she just came OUT of an extended rehab stint and was forced to go pretty much directly to the police to turn herself in for a prior car accident.

It obviously doesn't matter that she has been wearing a SCRAM ankle bracelet which is supposed to go off should she drink any beverages.

And it apparently means nothing to her that her former BFF did, in fact, do time for her DUI transgressions.

Some people just never learn.

Lindsay Lohan was pulled over and arrested AGAIN early this morning for DUI, driving on a suspended license, AND possessing cocaine.

Lovely, huh?

I honestly had held out hope that this girl was actually getting all her turds in one basket.  She had shunned the spotlight while in rehab, had actually STAYED IN REHAB for even more than the initially prescribed dose, and was seeming to come back out in a rather low key, learned-some-lessons way.

I guess not.

She was booked, posted $25,000 bail, and is now back home - temporarily.

She has not one, but two, court appearances scheduled - both on August 24, 8:30am - one for this latest stunt, and the other for her pending DUI arrest from back on Memorial Day.

Love her attorney's spin: "Addiction is a terrible and vicious disease. Since Lindsay transitioned to outpatient care, she has been monitored on a SCRAM bracelet and tested daily in order to support her sobriety. Throughout this period, I have received timely and accurate reports from the testing companies. Unfortunately, late yesterday I was informed that Lindsay had relapsed. The bracelet has now been removed. She is safe, out of custody and presently receiving medical care."

Sorry, but what Lindsay, Nicole, Paris, and currently-on-her-way-to-a-full-scale-meltdown Britney (watch for OK Magazine next week) need is a major kick in the pants - you know, the kind that's so hard your foot breaks off in the person's ass?

Privilege, lack of consequences, consequences which are far too light to have any effect (see Paris Hilton who continues to party, emerging a couple weeks ago from a limo - her egress preceded by a thick cloud of pot smoke, and has routinely been calling paparazzi to inform them of her whereabouts so she stays in the news), too much attention and wealth, and far too little common sense and values.

I realize these are young people, but they are not children.  They are all adults and as such need to start facing the same exact consequences as adults out here in the real world. 

And I doubt anyone with a DUI still fresh on the books, rearrested for the same, but with an added helping of cocaine on top would be seeing much more than the inside of a jail cell for quite a period of time.

Don't Ever Mock A Pothead

Well, I am back from my weekend at Potterpalooza in Houston.

I rolled into the city Friday afternoon, three children excited to pick up their aunt and uncle from the airport and hit the Harry Potter book release party, Perfectus (Latin, meaning "ending" or "completed"), at the Children's Museum.

OK, wait - back up - truth be told, TWO of my three daughters were excited. The oldest, who has read each book no less than four times a piece, and the youngest, who was just ready to burst at the thought of entering the costume contest dressed as Hogwarts horror, Draco Malfoy. The middle daughter, while enjoying the books and movies (we share an affinity for all things Radcliffe), is firmly, as am I, a Muggle.

Basically, our magical powers are to be found in shooting sparks from our mouth about those who are a few shafts short of a full broomstick (see sisters One and Three, and their Aunt) in terms of Potter devotion.

And so we went. Culley dressed as Hermione in her finest Gryffindor robe and tie - her hair suitably mussed (Emma Watson is far too neatly coiffed in the movies - Hermione is essentially always having a bad hair decade), and heels, yes heels. You see, her adult sizd robe would have dragged the floor without them, so I jokingly dubbed her Whore-mione.

Carson, the youngest, with her white blond hair slicked back, her ponytail tucked into the collar of her Slytherin shirt, tie and robe - looked every inch a young Draco Malfoy. Her last minute inspiration to have me attempt the "dark mark" on her forearm with liquid eyeliner would prove winning.

At the event, witches and wizards abounded. Yes, there were many Muggles, like me, who had eschewed any type of costuming, but for those who did indulge, they went all the way. Pint-sized Potters were everywhere, eyeliner scars etched on their foreheads, magic wands at the ready. Tonks seemed to be the favorite choice of older teens - what with the option of wearing pink spiky wigs, why not? There was an older gent in all his Dumbledore finery, and even a man in his early twenties who received double takes all night - so convincing was his Mad Eye Moody ensemble, right down to the wandering eye and stilted walk.

Then I heard them. Coming from the rear of the main hall - familar music, with unfamiliar lyrics... Yes, it was the wizard band, Philosopherock - three sisters who take this whole 7 book series WAAAAY seriously.

Singing songs from their first CD, Hex Me Draco, One More Time, as well as recent recordings, I walked up to hear This Kiss (yes, like the Faith Hill original) with lyrics about how dementors need love too.

I could feel all the joy seeping out of my body - like I would never be happy again...

OK, ok - they weren't that bad, but it took more skill than a fifth year to keep from casting a spell with my snarky tongue.

Moving on - there were roundtable discussions, trivia contests, even The Great Snape Debate - a 45 minute heated give and take between those who believe him to be in cahoots with He Who Shall Never Have A Nose, and those who think he is really good - a house elf in Death Eater's clothing as it were.

The costume contest was the highlight for my decked out daughters. Culley made the top three in the adult category in her Whore-mione outfit. But Carson, when her turn came to face the assembled throng, sneered in her most Malfoy-esque way and pulled up her sleeve to reveal a not-too-shabby rendition of the dark mark courtesy of my artistic talent and Maybelline.

She won.

As the hours moved forward, there were more song stylings, the opportunity to play in the displays at the museum (that's me milking an obviously fake cow - I have never seen an udder with such a high sheen factor in an actual pasture), talk to the TV reporters on hand, and count the seconds until they wheeled out the most protected cargo since Fort Knox was first loaded up.

At the witching hour of midnight, as my daughters stood in line with their Aunt, their excitement was palpable. But not quite so palpable as the seriously underlifed teen standing behind them.

The girl was nearly hysterical.

I'm not kidding.

Earplugs in place so no one could spoil the ending for her should some sap decide to grab their book and holler out the details, she bobbed from one foot to the other like she had to pee, tears welling in her eyes, hyperventilating, making a scene.

So much so that my sister finally told her to go ahead of them.

When the girl finally received her book - I'm being kind - she actually tore into a box - you would have thought she had gotten her hands on the original Ten Commandment tablets.

If she had, I sure wish one had read: Thou shalt maintain thy grasp on reality in the face of thy newest Potterage, lest thy looketh like a wankerish ass

Finally the festivities were over, and back to the hotel my group came. My sister and daughter stayed up till the wee hours working their way through the first of many chapters.

I did, as I promised, and found one of the books while they were asleep the next morning, and went straight to the epilogue.

And while I will not spoil it for those of who are just beginning to dig in - let's just say, the ending is fitting. As for the pages preceding the ending? My daughter has completed the book, and I can tell you she sobbed openly at many points, and compiled a running list of bodies as they piled up dead throughout the read.

Finally, I can say that making fun of Potheads is not without its own peril. Yes, I snickered throughout the event. Yes, I damn near sprained an eyeball by constantly rolling it at passersby. And yes, I was punished...these Potheads are very powerful against a mere smartass Muggle like myself.

Now, does anyone know how to reverse this spell?!?!?!