How to meet famous people, Mark style

For a very average guy, I've met a lot of famous folks. Some of whom I've met more than once and they actually remembered my name, which was highly cool. So, if you want to meet the beautiful people, follow these few easy steps:
Fly a lot of airplanes. When I was growing up, I was in the States most of the time and my parents were overseas a lot of the time. As a result, I did a lot of flying. My early trips were pretty un-eventful, until one day right at the end of 1991. I was in London's Heathrow Airport trying to help out a GI who had been kicked out of Saudi Arabia (he didn't do anything wrong; he had the wrong paperwork). We were walking through the terminal and I was trying to read the paper to get the Redskins score, when WHAM! I run smack into this guy. I look up and see a dignified, older black man.

It was Nelson Mandela.

He was with his daughter (I guess), one guy and that was it. He'd only been out of prison for a year or two and hadn't become President of South Africa yet,but I was totally floored that he was just walking around by himself. But there he was, and he started a streak of meeting famous people in airports.

Over the next few years, I met Oliver North, Jack Kemp and Mario Andretti in airports. I went into a slump for a while, but broke out in style a couple years ago when I got to sit next to Jennie Finch. I enjoyed that immensely.

Go to A&M. Being a student at one of the largest universities in the nation does have its perks. Big time sports (ok, formerly big time sports), lots of ladies...oh, yeah, we have a presidential library. And our president is still alive!

Texas A&M is the home of the George Bush (41) Presidential Library. And 41 is in College Station all the time. I had a lot of classes at the Bush School of Government of Public Policy, so I was around that area a lot. And 41 was real nice and accessible. I probably talked to him 6, 7 times (mostly about baseball). By the fourth time or so, he remembered my name. Badass! I also got to meet Mikhail Gorbachev when he showed up. You've never lived until you see the former head of the Evil Empire wearing jeans and an A&M baseball hat.

I got to talk to the guy who was running the Bush School at the time a lot. I called him "Dr. Bob." You can call him Defense Secretary Robert Gates.

In early November 1998, I showed up very late for a campaign rally for the governor of Texas, who was holding his final public event before getting re-elected easily at A&M's Rec Center. Being the last guy by the door, I got him to autograph a campaign poster, shook his hand and talked baseball with him for a couple minutes. As he finally got pushed out the door by his security detail, I told him I'd see him in D.C. in 26 months. He smirked and chuckled. 26 months later, George W. Bush was in Washington to be inaugurated as President of the United States and yes, I was there too.

Play reporter for a little while. Lousy hours, dealing with crappy equipment and buildings, putting up with severely disfunctional individuals who answer to "boss." All of these things are common in the newspaper industry. On occasion, you get a few perks--for me, that included meeting a bunch of politicos and sports types. I've met Gov. Perry enough times that we're on a first-name basis (He calls me "Mark"; I call him "Governor. I think I mentioned that in the 25 things thing yesterday). Congressmen, Senators, big whoopee. The cool stuff was when I got credentialed for big league baseball games. I got on the field in Atlanta, Houston and Wrigley Field in Chicago. I also got to meet most all of the Orioles, Braves, Cubs, Diamondbacks and Astros. Meeting the 'Stros wasn't that big a deal because I...

Followed a minor league baseball team. My family lives in Round Rock, which, in 2000-01, was the home of the AA affiliate of the Astros (they're now the AAA affiliate). They had season tickets to the Express that were VERY close to the field. That, and the reporter's credentials (had 'em even in college) gave me access to the players. Guys in minor league ball are living paycheck to paycheck, playing the game because they love it and partying hard afterward. I got to party with them a few times, and it was great. A couple years later, when I was in Georgia, I went into the 'Stros locker room before a game and I'll be darned if several of the guys who were in AA in 2000-01 remembered me.

And wanted to go drinking later.

Now THAT is badass.

25 things you may or may not know about me

1. I really don't think, with the exception of my wife, anyone else is going to care whether I post this or not. I just don't think I rank very highly on anyone else's priority list.
2. Living overseas gives you a very different viewpoint on things. It taught me that most people in this country both think the best of others and are incredibly naive. People who think we'll have peace if we just sit down and talk it out need to realize you can't have a conversation when only one side is interested in listening. When certain groups think it's God's order to kill you, you'd better have your guns on.
3. I didn't always like Texas. In fact, for most of my formative years, I hated Texas. I thought it was a cesspool filled with arrogant people. Then I got down here and realized I was confusing Dallas with all of Texas. I'm glad I got force-fed.
4. I have seen 37 executions. 36 of them from 15 feet or closer. For this, I am despised in Europe. And, frankly, that doesn't bother me. I do, however, find it ironic that the people who mastered genocide now have the nerve to tell Texas what to do.
By the way, my stance on the death penalty remains unchanged. I do think that DNA testing should be done every possible time.
5. I really do hate France. Everything that has ever gone wrong in American history can be linked to the French.
6. I think the media really is strongly biased to the left. And it disgusts me. And the confluence of high-minded nitwits is one of the reasons I quit.
7. When my wife first met me, she hated my guts. Not for a little while--for six solid months. I have no idea why she changed her mind.
8. I have attention deficit disorder and I know it. And it is a cause of extreme personal frustration. I would love to be able to spend an hour watching the same show or two hours working on the same project. And, most all the time, I can't.
9. I tend to cry during the playing of the national anthem. I don't care if you laugh. And it irritates me one someone tries to glitz it up. Shut the hell up.
10. One of the greatest disappointments of my life was my 15 months in Georgia. With the exception of Savannah, which I love, I would be more than happy to never return to that dump.
11. I have met a lot of famous people in my life (a lot of them in airports). Maybe that's the benefit of being a former reporter. I've met both Presidents Bush (both really nice guys, though I have an affinity for the elder), John McCain, former VP candidate Jack Kemp, Nelson Mandela, Mikhail Gorbachev, SECDEF Robert Gates (when he was running the Bush School at A&M--a GREAT guy), 10 baseball Hall-of-Famers (Jim Palmer, Ryne Sandberg, Don Sutton, Brooks Robinson, Earl Weaver, Dave Winfield, Gaylord Perry, Craig Biggio, Greg Maddux and Tom Seaver), and god knows how many congressmen, big-time football and baseball players. Oh, and Mario Andretti. Gov. Rick Perry is kind of a bud. We have a deal: in College Station, I call him Rick and he calls me Mark. Anywhere else, he calls me Mark and I call him Governor. I think I got shafted on that one.
12. My family's first dog, Martin, died last year and it still hurts to think about. I hate to think about what's going to happen when Sonny the Pug goes.
13. I am a graduate of both Lehigh and Texas A&M Universities. Most of my friends pre-1997 have no idea I went to A&M; very few people post-1997 know I went to Lehigh. In fact, some people just know me as "The Aggie."But I greatly value my friends from my stint on South Mountain.
14. I'm a pushover when it comes to Ripken, Sonny and Deuce. It's pretty pathetic, honestly.
15. I don't drink nearly as much as a I used to. Can't handle it anymore. Depressing.
16. I'm much calmer than I used to be. I think that's my wife's influence on me. The only things that really drive me nuts now are big messes and Aggie athletics. Not even the Redskins, 'Stros and Orioles make me blow my fuse (too badly).
17. I type faster than anyone I've ever met and it's not close.
18. I really want to be a dad.
19. I've seen a lot of the world, but I've never been to California. Eh, whatever. I'd rather see Alaska. But I really, really want to go to the Holy Land.
20. I'm very sensitive and get my feelings hurt easily. In fact, it upset me that nobody has listed me on facebook when they've done this list already. Pathetic, I know.
21. I have fired three shots in my life. I have hit three deer.
22. I would like to play more golf.
23. I love it when it rains. I guess that comes from growing up somewhere that it never rained.
24. I admire a lot of people, but when I think about it, there are three people who stand above the rest: George Washington, my dad and my wife. My admiration for them is unbounded.
25. I hate the beach. Can't stand it. Already dealt with enough hot and blowing sand.

Addendum to the 10 coolest TV characters of the 1980s

A while back, I posted a little piece (which, according to Google analytics, is pretty damned popular) of the Top 10 coolest TV characters from the 80s. In the process, I neglected two seriously cool characters that no list can do without. So, without further bs-ing, here are those two badasses:


Robert McCall (Edward Woodward), The Equalizer

I'm smooth, I'm suave and I can put a bullet in your head from 85 yards. Problem with me being English?

I don't know how one person who is a British subject becomes a longtime CIA operative as opposed to a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service, gets burned by the CIA and not only stays in the States and becomes a good guy vigilante for hire. But everything was possible in New York in the 80s, apparently, as that's exactly what Robert McCall was. Even though he was in his late 50s or early 60s or something like that, he could grab a black man in his late teens, a Hispanic in his 20s and any honky of any age and scare the shit out of him. And he never raised his voice. In fact, if he lowered it and started speaking quickly, THAT'S when you knew you were screwed.

The best part of McCall's whole deal was his ability to drop a bad guy whenever he needed to. And you have to admire his desire for the bad guy to drop his weapon before he shot him. In fact, he'd give him about a tenth of a second to put that gun down before dotting his forehead. It went something like this: "Don't do it!"BLAM. No space. No pause. But you have to give him credit for being chivalrous.


That brings us to this guy:

J.R. Ewing (Larry Hagman), Dallas

During my formative years, there were three bad guys TV and the movies introduced to me that remain severely badass to this day. The first one, of course, is this guy, who needs no introduction:


The second one is this guy, who also needs no introduction:


And then there's guy, who also needs no introduction:

Well, hello, darlin'. I'm the baddest ass bad guy in TV history.

When I was a little kid, there was no question about who I hated most of these three guys. One was responsible for the deaths of billions and even cut off his own kid's hand; another was a soulless bounty hunter who tried to kill good people and was not above working for previously mentioned dude who killed billions. Then there was a guy who just wanted to steal his family's company from the clutches of his good-guy brother and put his beauty queen wife in the bottom of a whiskey bottle by screwing her sister.

Yep, I hated J.R. Ewing by far the most. What a miserable son of a bitch. In fact, I kept on hoping that guy number two would show up in Dallas and thermally detonate his ass.

To quote number three on the previous list, I know what you're thinking, and you're right. I WAS 7 years old, and if you don't like the visual of Boba Fett blasting J.R., you can kiss my ass.

Anyway, now 25 years later, I still hate J.R. But I LOVE to hate him. What a perfect bad guy. You can't help but love the guy! There's nothing redeeming about him whatsoever, and that is AWESOME.

How badass is J.R. Ewing? Badass enough to single-handedly cause the collapse of a communist government! Seriously! During the 80s, Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceausescu ordered state-run TV to show episodes of Dallas so his subjects would realize the vile corruption of the capitalist system. However, instead of his people being repelled by what they saw, they got a massive hardon for the nice clothes, hot babes and big cars.

And they all LOVED J.R. Ewing. The booze-swilling, frequently philandering, twice-shot, family screwing bastard from Dallas was a God in a Godless nation. In fact, Dallas helped motivate the people of Romania to stand up and force Ceausescu from power (and, eventually, put more bullets in him than Kristin put in J.R.). A few years later, Larry Hagman (who I like even though he is poster child for "brain dead liberal") visited Romania and was treated to a welcome usually reserved for the Pope.

Now, that is one badass mutha, darlin'.

The master of negotiation

So, as I mentioned in my last post, I went to the big sports memorabilia show downtown yesterday. The Missus and I had gone Friday, so I had a pretty good lay of the land when I went in. We also got there about 2:30, with the show closing at 4.

Too late, you think? Nay. This is the perfect time to get a deal. Especially when the vendors are on the third floor of a building with only one elevator. I'm sensing deals.

One thing you may not know about me: I am the master of negotiation. I have broken car dealers across the state on multiple occasions and have weaseled my way into places I had no business being because I could work the magic. So I did it again yesterday.

When we went over Friday, there were a few things I saw that interested me. One of them was a Washington Redskins full-sized helmet signed by some prominent retired players. It had a price tag of $225. The vendor selling it was from the D.C. suburbs on the Maryland side, which also equates to a damned long way from home.

So I decided to wait him out.

"Wow, 3:15," I started. "Almost done, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Gonna suck carrying all that stuff down. How long was the drive coming down?"
"26 hours."
"Hmm..that'll probably put you back around D.C. at rush hour on Tuesday. That sucks."
"Yeah," the guy said. "I told you, I'm not moving off that price."
"Oh, I know," I replied. "Just trying to figure out if I want to get it. It's still a bit more than I want to do."

So I kept up. Reminding him about carrying the stuff back down to the car, carrying it ALL THE WAY BACK to Maryland with nothing to show for it but a big gas bill, a backache from staying at Motel 6 for a week and sore legs from carrying stuff back and forth.

Finally, the guy loses his temper a bit. "Tell me why the hell I should drop my price $75 just because you Fing say so," he snaps.

I smile.
"I can do that. There's only one person in the Houston metropolitan area who gives a flying F about the Washington Redskins and he's standing in front of you. If you want to be a hardass and lose a deal, suit yourself. Or we can do business and you get something for your trouble."

$150 later, the helmet's upstairs on the top of the curio cabinet. Always be closing.

Cheers this ain't

Sometimes you want to go
where everybody knows your name..

Virtually everyone my age knows the theme song from "Cheers", even if it is sappy and somewhat annoying. The show, of course, was great, but that doesn't matter right now.

Today, I was in downtown Houston, literally across from Minute Maid Park. The Razorback and I went to the sports memorabilia show at the George R. Brown Convention Center while our wives went and shopped--a fair deal if there ever was one. Anyway, the show ended at 4, so we left a little bit before. We headed over towards MMP and the entertainment area and figured we'd have a drink.

We tried to open the door to the Home Plate Bar (where the Missus and I had lunch a few hours before) and found it locked. So we went next door to the BUS, a place I usually like to go.

We walked in and it stunk. Not the locale--it literally, actually had a sewage problem. A large portion of the bar smelled like a cesspool. However, considering our other options--that is, NONE WHATSOEVER--we ordered a couple of beers.

So, here we are, across the street from the baseball stadium the week before the Super Bowl, in an area where nobody really lives, with the mercury hovering around 50 degrees, on a SUNDAY, at a bar.

Where it smells like...you know.

And we were, literally, the only people in the bar. With the exception of one poor little bartender who had probably bored her own nasal passages out. How bad do you feel with someone who works for tips at a place that has no customers and smells like a Port-a-Potty? It's got to be a miserable life.

I've never closed out a bar (well, I'm not going to admit to it, at least), but I sure felt like we were doing it at 4:20 this afternoon. It was absolutely surreal. After that, I'm certainly looking forward to spring and baseball season.

I like movie music (and I'm from Texas), so screw you

I will admit it: I like movie music. I like soundtrack music. I like it so much that I downloaded every piece of Star Wars music there is (except from Shadows of the Empire and the Holiday Special) onto my iPod.

Yes, from all six movies. Every piece. And I listen to them all.

And yes, I have gotten laid sometime since Bill Clinton was in office. But I digress.

I have always liked good soundtrack music. Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Rocky, even a little Top Gun (NO, "Playing with the Boys" IS NOT SOUNDTRACK MUSIC AND DOES NOT COUNT). So allows your mind to drift someplace else when you're working on redundant, cumbersome tasks. Even when your pug insists on sleeping on your arm (as he is right now).

It's the right mix of attention-keeping and relaxing, as opposed to the general monotony of something like Brahms or the more pulse-pounding stuff like Metallica. So I like it. And I'm a bit of a geek (though I'm pretty sure I'd be able to duel you if you accused me as such).

So, when Sirius and XM combined, I was excited--until I found out that they'd taken Cinemagic, the movie music station off the playlist. I was very, very upset. My wife, rejoicing, nixed any idea of its return, saying, "You're the only person in America who listens to that shit."

Apparently there must be one other person, because I checked today online and it's back! Rejoice! So, as I sit here typing this, I'm listening to the score from The Fugitive...wait, it just ended. Now it's Indiana Jones! WOOHOO!

I am pumped. I am productive. I am a geek. And I will still duel you if you try to call me one.

If it's bad, it came from Southwest Georgia

A few years ago, I had the--ahem--"privilege" of working in Albany, Ga. If you don't know where Albany is, don't worry, you're not missing anything.

Except an utter train wreck.

At some point in the history of this great nation, Albany was actually a thriving city amongst the farmland of Southwest Georgia. Today, it's an freaking disaster. You have a bunch of under-educated but overly egotistical black folks who are now in the majority and aren't interested in anything but sticking it to the white folks who have been working as hard as they can to screw them over for about 300 years. And, to an extent, you really can't blame them, as most of the whiteys are just as arrogant, just as stupid and think that, if they wish hard enough, the Civil War's still going on.

So what are you left with? A city that's dying due to complete mismanagement, unparalleled corruption and an inept, underpaid police force. Think Chicago without the winters or any success.

Sadly, Albany's not an exception in that region--it's a shining example of the rule. The whole place sucks and, when you cap its outright hostility to anyone from the outside, there's no reason to be there. In fact, it's a place to avoid.

The only good thing that came out of my 15 months and 3 days in Albany was meeting the missus (who, like me, wasn't from there and was ready to get the hell out the day she arrived). Everything else was pretty bad. In fact, everyone used to joke about how, if something sucked, it had to be local.

Now, that's certainly the case. You've heard about the nationwide salmonella outbreak, right? Guess where it started? A peanut processing plant in Blakely, Ga.

Yup, Southwest Georgia, where Albany remains the crown jewel. How un-shocking that SOWEGA's stupidity has grown to the point where it's making the rest of us sick.

Dear Wendy's, your store also blows

(This is also the text of an actual complaint letter. And, with the completion of this one, I think I'm done griping for a while.)

While driving to Richmond, Va., I stopped with my wife and in-laws at the Wendy's in Forest, Miss. It was my idea to stop at said location, for two reasons, the first being that Wendy's burgers usually make me less sick than other fast-food restaurants. Other places' food goes through me faster than Shannen Doherty goes through boyfriends, faster than Italy goes through governments, even faster than General Motors goes through money that isn't theirs (and that's fast). Wendy's, however, is slightly easier on the digestive tract, going at about the rate Citibank goes through tax money. And, to top it off, I wanted to try a mushroom and swiss burger.

We entered the location in question to find it quite dirty and several employees shooting the bull with customers. When I got to the counter to order my mushroom and swiss, I was told--in spite of the large signs to the contrary--that they "ain't got that no mo." So all four of us ordered bacon cheeseburgers.

For some reason, I decided I'd just have the fries and didn't eat the burger. That proved to be an excellent idea, as I noticed my pug wouldn't even touch the burger. For the sake of clarity, my pug weighs just south of 30 pounds and will eat ANYTHING--especially cheeseburgers. Not this time.

Unfortunately, my wife and in-laws, who have sturdy constitutions and stomachs like steel traps, didn't take the pug's hint. They ate their burgers and, within 45 minutes, were violently ill. My in-laws found it imperative to find a restroom rapidly as their bowels demanded it. My wife, on the other hand, didn't have that exact problem; instead, she had it and the need to vomit.

Do you have any idea how long it takes to drive from northern Mississippi to central Virginia when you have to stop at every public rest stop (and several gas stations) over the course of two days? I'll give you a hint--it takes a bloody long time. When you're in the car with three people with upset stomachs and the desire never to use public rest stop toilet paper ever again, it is a friggin’ eternity. In fact, I would advise you to avoid it at all costs.

My Christmas vacation was not all it could have been and the trip down the wrong direction began at your franchise in Forest. I don’t know if anyone else suffered from food poisoning that day, but there no doubt my family did. And that, along with the baiting of a highly desirous mushroom in swiss that they had “no mo” of, made for a lousy trip. You may not care, but that location has turned me off on your product for the foreseeable future.

And, for Pete’s sake, make sure that if you have “no mo” of something, the signs come down!

Meet Stephen McGee, a young man worth rooting for

Stephen McGee was hounded by lousy luck during his years at A&M, but he's got a shot at the NFL.

Last week, I covered the East-West Shrine Game (all college all-star game for seniors heading into the NFL draft, for those of you who don't know) for a publication that would probably like to keep their affiliation with a bozo like me quiet. Anyway, I got to meet quite a few interesting people, including former Redskins QB Doug Williams, the MVP of Super Bowl XXII. I met almost all the players on the West team and was impressed with quite a few of them.

One guy that stood out, however, was Texas A&M quarterback Stephen McGee.

I'm not just saying that because he, like your humble scribe, is an Aggie. I'm saying it because the young man is a class act who does things the right way, believes in himself and his no quit in him.

Five years ago, McGee showed up in College Station as one of the most sought-after high school recruits in America. McGee had been a record-setting quarterback at Burnet High School (just outside of Austin) and had thrown the ball all over the place. Before he even took a snap, he was profiled in a story in Sports Illustrated. It made sense to think that McGee, once Reggie McNeal was done quarterbacking, would thrive in the spread offense Dennis Franchione (henceforth, "The idiot who shall not be named") had installed in 2004.

The idiot who shall not be named promptly (and very stupidly) scrapped the system in 2005, installing an option-heavy offense. McGee, who came to A&M looking to put the ball in the air, got the pleasure of getting hammered as he ran or pitched the ball for three seasons. When he did throw, it wasn't pretty. His coaching was non-existent and his skills eroded.

This past year, it looked like he was catching a break at the right time. Mike Sherman, Brett Favre's former coach in Green Bay, was named A&M's new head coach and he was bringing in a pro-style system. At last, McGee was going to get to throw the ball.

He promptly hurt his shoulder and, once healthy, had lost his job to Jerrod Johnson (a decision which, by the way, I supported). So the once-lauded recruit ended his career as a backup and a lighting rod for angry Aggies.

So when I met him this week, I figured McGee might be a bit bitter. He wasn't in the least. He said that, while the ball didn't bounce his way at A&M, he loved it there and wouldn't change a thing. He also had very kind words for Sherman, who's already taking serious heat.

Even though he was considered by most scouts to be at the East-West Shrine Game as a publicity stunt (the game was in Houston) to draw Aggies, he said all week that he was just looking for a chance to show what he could do. And he did; he was the best quarterback during practice all week and was the best in the game Saturday. His last college pass was a sparkling 35-yard touchdown to Jarett Dillard of Rice (who, by the way, is another excellent young man).

During the week, McGee actually flew up to Nashville on Tuesday night after practice to pick up the Fellowship of Christian Athletes Bobby Bowden award, received it Wednesday morning, got back on a plane and made it back to Houston before practice at 2 p.m. He was the first guy on the field. He never turned down an interview, even from me (four times). He signed every autograph put in front of him, smiled for every camera and just made every little kid who came up to him feel special.

THOSE are the kinds of things I like in an athlete, just as much as a good 40 time or a 95-mile-an-hour fastball.

Stephen McGee went from pro football afterthought to likely draftee this week. He can continue to cement that status with a good pro day and a nice showing at the NFL Combine in Indianapolis.

I, for one, hope he does make it to the big time and succeeds. It's about time this class act had the ball bounce his way. I hope you'll root for him too.

Hitler's Aggie Football Rant

If you get past the Nazi part, this is one of the funniest things I have ever seen.

Dear Subway, your store blows

I hate to say it, but I think I'm getting good at the letter writing/bitching thing.

To Whom It May Concern:

Congratulations on your $5 footlong ad campaign. I must say, it's quite catchy. In fact, it helped bring us in to your establishment at 8325 W. Broadway, Suite 200, this evening.
We arrived a little bit before 10 p.m. intending to get a sandwich, nothing else (save for a cup of water), and sit down and eat. Simple--food, bread, water. Folks have been doing it since the dawn of time.

Your guys found a way to screw it up.

A little demographic information for you: my wife and I are 28 and 33, respectively; we are clean-cut, both employed and don't have a criminal record. Now, having said that, I have a few questions.

First, if there are only two employees on a shift, wouldn't it be a good idea to establish a company policy to ensure franchises have a manager on duty that speaks English? In this case, after asking three times for a cup of water, the manager gave me two full cups and charged me for two sodas, which we did not ask for. Then he smiled at me like he'd just gotten now hydraulic shocks on his lowrider.

Then, once we had our meal, we were promptly told to leave. We were told the restaurant closes at 10 and to get out. Now, I am not the greatest mathematician in the world, but I do know that if the sign on the door says the store closes at 11 p.m., that means there is another hour before the store closes. If the franchise is going to kick people out, they either 1) have no customer service skills or 2) should learn how to count.

Simply put, this is the lousiest customer service experience I have had at any fast food franchise at any point. I am utterly disgusted. Having someone smile at me and tell me to get out because it's 10:00 after charging me for items I did not request is more than a little annoying.

I don't know if you have any control over this franchise, but if you do, please inform the owner that they run a lousy operation. If they can't hire employees who can count or understand simple requests, then they shouldn't expect repeat customers. They won't have one here.

Amnesty International is scum.

Once upon a time, when I was wearing my reporter hat, I covered the death penalty. As one of those great perks that came with the job, I was bombarded with crap from Amnesty International.

When I came into the job, I thought Amnesty was a good, well-intentioned group that helped those less fortunate and, on occasion, took stances I did not like. By the time I left Primary Death Penalty Job, I had concluded that Amnesty International is a bunch of brain-dead, arrogant, self-absorbed morons who hate anything the United States says or does, regardless of leadership.

Their stance on the death penalty was particularly appalling. There were other groups whose stance was, essentially, "The death penalty is bad. Please reconsider." Ok, I can deal with that. Not Amnesty. They were so overboard that their stuff went something like this:

"Dear writer who should do more to stop this genocide:
The death penalty is vile and Texas, along with its Nazi former governor (now the American president) should be considered as evil as China and Iran for its use. So-and-so will be executed Tuesday night. With all due respect to the victim, So-and-so didn't get enough milk as a child, his momma spanked him to much...blahblahblah THE VICTIM DESERVED IT, YOU ALL SUCK, AMERICA SHOULD DIE!"

The last two comments are a little over the top, but it got that close. And, in several cases, they did get so far as to pretty much say, "who cares about the victim?"

I found it vile and contemptible. But, just when I thought I may reconsider my stance on Amnesty International, they sealed the deal for my eternal hatred. They want people to send cards, letters and poems to the terrorists at Guantanamo Bay, showing how they "support the detainees".

"Please write to any or all of the following Guantánamo detainees, expressing in your own words your solidarity with them," Amnesty asks.

Now, they did the same crap with people on death row and the Eurotrash wrote in droves expressing their undying love and admiration for these guys who had killed family members, people they hadn't met and cops. It was disgusting, especially when you consider Amnesty would intentionally omit any mention of what the condemned were on death row for anyway! Just the "He didn't get cuddled enough in daycare" crap.

Ok, the guys out at Livingston on death row killed one or two people, in most cases. The jackasses at Gimto wanted to kill hundreds, or thousands, of innocent Americans and took up arms against our troops. They are even greater scum than the people who will go to Huntsville eventually. But still, Amnesty has picked out nine guys who are just so poorly treated by the Imperalist Americans and Bushitler who just need that little friendly pick-me-up from some brain-dead pigdog infidel.

And, again, they make no mention of what they are at Gitmo for. So, courtesy of the fine work of the Weekly Standard, I'll tell you about some of these lovelies.

• Omar Khadr was captured in 2002 after a gunfight with U.S. forces in Afghanistan. Lovely little Omar, 15 at the time, was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed murderer. He threw the grenade that killed Sgt. First Class Christopher Speer, a medic who was saving the lives of Afghan civilians when Omar chucked his grenade
• Jumah al-Dossari has had an impressive terrorist career. He was arrested after the Khobar Towers bombing, but the Saudis later released him (nice). He then, somehow, made it to upstate New York, where he served as an al-Qaida recruiter.
  
• Binyam Mohamed, an Ethiopian who had lived in the U.S., did 40 days in al-Qaida's Farouq training camp in June 2001 and was coming back to the States to do some nasty stuff when he was captured. Mohamed's defense team claims he had no intention of coming back to the U.S. to kill civilians; instead, he wanted to go to Chechnya and kill Russian civilians. Ah, that makes it all better.
• Abdel Malik Abdel Wahab wasn't just a long-time AQ devotee; he was bin Laden's bodyguard. U.S. forces found a "martyrdom letter" he wrote on the corpse of another bodyguard, indicating he was ready to fight and die for the cause, either against American forces or in a terrorist attack. He claims he was just in Afghanistan to preach the Koran. Sure.

The other guys were caught fighting at places like Tora Bora or were known to have been in AQ training camps. These guys are hardly good people--they're criminals. And Amnesty wants people to think they're poor martyrs.

When Stalin talked about "Useful Idiots", they had these guys in mind.

Big Lots--the 21st Century Dungeon

There are very few things in this world that scare me. Being an old cops reporter, I've seen about as bad as it gets. Remember, I've seen 37 executions, countless dead bodies, you name it. Even had a gun and a knife pulled on my way back when--and yes, those DO scare me.

But not as much as Big Lots.

Ever been in a Big Lots?

No?

Then don't. They are scary, scary places, my friends. They are scarier than Joe Biden with a six-pack of Viagra, non-sequential $100 bills, a suite in Vegas and the Magic Mirror saying, "Damn, Mr. Vice President, you are a sexy bitch! Put that leather jacket and shades back on!"

I've been in a few Big Lots. Not just the one here in Pearland. And all of them, somehow, have the same feel--sort of like the big warehouse you see at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, without that nice, homey feel.

Instead, they're all big, dank, dark and generally foreboding. You get the feeling someone's going to jump out from behind one of the big piles of throw pillows and gut you with a chainsaw. Or, perhaps, merely jump out and scream, "NO ONE expects the Spanish Inquisition!"

Of course, if that were to happen, the person behind the Spanish Inquisitor would then shoot him. That's how screwed up a Big Lots feels to me.

Big Lots have some interesting stuff, like real goods that are remarkably cheap. They also have some seriously screwed up stuff, like dozens of copies of movies with Jeff Foxworthy in a serious dramatic role. Or Peanut Brittle that looks like it was produced in Ethiopia. Or blue water hoses. I've never seen a blue water hose anywhere else. Then again, I haven't seen movie Andrew McCarthy has made in 20 years, but I know he has, because Big Lots has 59 copies of it.

Oh, and every Big Lots store has the same smell. They're all musty and mildewy, one step short of smelling like death. With the halogen lights kinda/sorta working, it can give off a very scary vibe. Then again, maybe it does smell like death, and the Spanish Inquisitor died trying to eat some of that Ethiopian Peanut Brittle and chased it with some washing detergent I've never heard of. It would take weeks for someone to find him, because nobody goes back in the food section anyway.

Why do I bring this up? Because I'll probably be decending into the hell that is the local Big Lots this weekend to get some plastic containers. And, when I do, I'll have my guns on.

I really don't want to be forced to watch that Foxworthy melodrama.

Tracy McGrady is soft. Don't call him T-Mac; call him She-Mac.

I am sick and tired of the whiny wimp that is Tracy McGrady. He is a pathetic excuse for a professional athlete and even less of a competitor.

The cancer that is She-Mac is taking another two weeks off in the middle of the NBA season because his left knee hurts and he's not properly conditioned. I'm sure you're asking (if you don't already know), "is this a recent injury?"

No, it's not. In fact, it's not even an injury he suffered this year. He suffered it LAST year, and had surgery in the offseason. May, to be precise.

He showed up at the Rockets' Media Day in SEPTEMBER and said that he wasn't healthy. Oh, that surgery? It was arthroscopic, with a rehab time of a month.

Why wasn't he healthy? Because he screwed off all summer and didn't rehab, like a professional athlete is supposed to. So now, in the middle of the season, he's out of shape with a sore widdle knee.

That sore widdle knee has been a problem since She-Mac whined about it at Media Day. But numerous specialists have told McGrady that the knee will get better and hurt less the more he plays on it. But he says it hurts too much and he's not gonna play.

He's soft. He's soft as ice cream on a warm summer's day. He's softer than the French Army. And now, with teammates like Ron Artest and Shane Battier struggling with more legitimate injuries but FIGHTING to get back on the court, with Yao Ming still playing on a damaged foot and missing NO time, he's gonna take a break.

Oh, and get this? She-Mac says Yao is soft. Little Miss Time Off has the nerve to say someone else is soft? That's hilarious! It's also pathetic.

The vast majority of Rockets fans are fed up with She-Mac's act. I'll wager his teammates are more than fed up with his diva antics. When She-Mac left Toronto, the word was the young player didn't work hard and didn't like to compete. When the Magic traded him to Houston, the team's GM said he was soft.

Looks like they were both right.

Rehab that knee, She-Mac. You'll need to be healthy when someone like Artest snaps on your ass and tries to put your head through a brick wall. Goodness knows a lot of Rockets fans have considered it.

Playoffs? PLAYOFFS? Ick.

So we're down to the last playoff game of the weekend and, to put it mildly, the results blow to this point. I'll be ok with whoever wins the Steelers-Chargers game, but otherwise, I hate all three of these.

Here's my logic: I hate the Ravens because they have two of the largest punks in the history of the NFL in Ray "Stop calling me O.J.-Lite" Lewis and Willis McGahee. I also hate anything that has to do with Buddy Ryan and, since his kid is their defensive coordinator, double bad on the Ravens.

Three major turnovers by the Titans later, Ravens advance. Puke.

My view of the NFC was much more complex. I despise both the Giants and Eagles, but I think I hate the Eagles more. Here's why: Tom Coughlin may be a Nazi (and, after today, he's a stupid Nazi), but he had the guts to deal with Plaxico Burress. On the other side, is the fat moron Donovan McNabb (who could also be the fat moron who's played really well, except against the Redskins, over the last month), the fat moron Andy Reid and...well, it's Philadelphia.

So I had a plan to see them both eat dirt.

I could tolerate the Giants for another week, as long as they offed the Eagles (whose fans are more annoying than Giants fan) and as long as the Carolina Panthers converted their gimme against the Arizona Cardinals last night. The Panthers had the defense and running game to beat the Giants, so that would off both NFC East scumbags.

Then the Panthers (actually, Jake Delhomme) went out and played like crap and got run off the field by the Cardinals. And, of course, the Philadelphia Fat Morons beat the tar out of the idiot Nazi and his squad.

I dread the concept of the Eagles in the Super Bowl (where they'd lose). But I think it's coming.

Puke.

NBC proves Ann Coulter right

Earlier this week--Tuesday, I believe--Ann Coulter was supposed to be on NBC's "Today" show to advertise her new book. In it, Coulter apparently rips into NBC for being unfair to President Bush (they are) and being in the tank for the Obamination (they are).

Now, I'm no big Coulter fan--anyone who tries to justify Joe McCarthy needs their head examined--but there's little argument that NBC, the home of Chris Matthews and Kooky Keith Olbermann (who still can't drive a car) is, with its hellspawn MSNBC, the most liberal network going.

So NBC, in an effort to bring an alternative view to their airwaves, banned Coulter for life the day before she went on the "Today" show. They said they didn't want--get this--anyone being negative towards the President-elect on their airwaves.

They replaced her with Rachel Maddow, a militant left-wing lesbian and no threat to say anything bad about the Obamination.

So, in one fell swoop, NBC proved Ann Coulter exactly right. Stay brilliant, peacocks.

The greatest shirt ever (apparently)

Yes, this is a gag, but it's very funny just the same. Click on the picture to read it.

I hereby propose ejecting Minnesota from the Union

My fellow Amarcans,

We have a problem. That problem is the pseudo-Canadian province of Minnesota. It is a disgrace to this nation--so disgraceful, I submit, that its membership in this greatest of nations should be eliminated.

Let us be clear on what Minnesota has brought us of late (and, once you're expelled, we're seizing the Mayo Clinic, so let's just be honest on that):

• The Metrodome
• Walter Mondale
• Kevin McHale, inept coach (twice)
• Stuart Smalley, United States Senator.

Ok, let's be honest here. Al Franken didn't win the election. He lost to Norm Coleman. So he stole it, with the help of the state's DFL (Democrat Farm and Labor, not Dumb F**king Liberal--get your mind out of the gutter) apparatus that runs the secretary of state and vote canvassing operations.

Hi, I'm a no-talent ass-clown rageaholic that can't get a job in Hollywood anymore, so I'll be your Senator, mmmkay? Yeah.

Stuart Smalley is probably going to be a Senator because the DFLs in Minnesota can't even steal an election right. They should learn from their neighbors in Illinois, who do a much better job of it (Blago the Mad notwithstanding). So how did this no-tax paying, porn writing jackoff go from 200-plus votes down to 225 up? Consider the following:

• 133 "missing" ballots from a Minneapolis (i.e. heavy DFL) precinct that were included in the recount. The odds are that these "missing" ballots never existed and were double-counts. The canvassing board let them in anyway. Guess who they went to?
• Other ballots for Stuart Smalley mysteriously appeared from a heavily Democratic suburban St. Paul precinct well AFTER election night. They were "locked in the trunk" of a precinct judge's car. Yeah, right. But they were also included in the recount.
• 130 absentee ballots have been double-counted in Franken's favor.
• 650 OTHER, improperly rejected absentee ballots identified by the Coleman campaign that were excluded in the recount. That was, of course, because they went to Coleman. Most of them are from military voters. Once again, the Dems show their love for the GI.

That's not even getting into the votes that were painfully obviously for Coleman that the recount idiots rejected (as in, ALL other nominees are x'd out; Coleman's bubble is circled. That's "unclear").

Once the election was over, Stuart Smalley and imbiciles like Harry Reid and Chuckles Schumer said we had to "count every vote". Sound familiar? Like another nimrod in 2000, Smalley wanted the count stopped as soon as he had the lead, which is exactly what the DFL made sure happened.

So, barring a judicial miracle (or common frigging sense), the most disgraceful U.S. Senator in the history of the institution (and that's saying something) will be seated from Minnesota. Great. Thanks.

So let's get rid of them. It won't hurt Harry Reid much, because he'll still have a very nice majority. Maybe we can annex Iraq (even though those Senate seats would skew GOP) to fill the void.

Minnesota: home of snow, hockey, more snow, Prince and election fraud. Something to be proud of all the way arooound, dontchaknow? So let us be resolved: you seat Stuart Smalley, we unseat you. Go your own way with your 10,000 lakes and Duluth. We've had enough bad moves on your part to last a lifetime.

May God bless you, gentle reader, and the 49 United States of America.

Oh, and California? Your ass is next.

No, you're doing it wrong

Most days, at least until we get the Honda fixed, I drive the Missus in to work. It's not a bad thing; I need to get up and moving and am still working before most people get to their desks at their "real" office doing their "real" job.

(note to you people: I make "real" money working at home, so screw you.)

Anyway, most days I'm in the car when 8 a.m. rolls around. Today was one of those days.

In Houston, we have a radio station that advertises itself as an 80s station (I will admit, they claim the 80s "and more"). Particularly, they pimp their 80 minutes of 80s at 8, every weekday morning.

And this morning, they started that 80 minutes with a song from 1997. That's better than a few days ago, when they had one from 1999.

Salah! I said no 90s! That's two 90s! Can't you count?