Category Archives: Paula Deen

Your Daily Hot Air

Sometimes I think World Net Daily was made up just for me.

For my entertainment. For my edification. For my sense of superiority over the gang of lunatics that puts it out.

From WND

Maybe this is what I’m missing out on by not being a sexist slob or a racist. Scads of folks across this holy land seem to feel they are better than others simply because said others either possess vaginas or dark skin. It must feel good to know in your heart that women are weak and stupid and blacks are criminal and lazy — and you’re not one of them.

Superiority must be a trip, right? Otherwise, what’s the point of being a sexist and/or racist?

So yeah, I feel superior — moral- and intellectual-wise — to the jabbering chuckleheads who populate the WND universe.

The WND pantheon includes busts of that great philosopher Chuck Norris, who has fap-fantasized about becoming the president of the Republic of Texas after it secedes (oh, please!), and the redoubtable Jerome Corsi. You may recall Corsi swearing up and down during the 2004 presidential campaign that John Kerry had faked his Vietnam wounds. And, more recently, he has posited that Barack Obama is some kind of a Kenyan fag abortionist or something.

Norris

Chuck Norris And Friends

The WND faithful also are regularly treated to the screechings of Phyllis Schlafly and David Limbaugh (who almost makes big bro Rush sound occasionally sane).

Yeesh.

WND is chock full of ads for gold (the preferred safe investment harbor for survivalists), magical vitamins and elixirs, fountains of youth, and even for the newly-martyred Paula Deen. The fly on this pile of horseshit is none other than former baseball pitcher John Rocker, who pens a regular op-ed column for the site.

John Rocker, for chrissakes!

Anyway, wouldn’t you know it, last week’s US Supreme Court decision to coerce all good, white, straight men into butt sex has the WND crew all aflutter.

Some self-described Christian lawyer named Matt Barber, a regular WND contributor, is convinced he’s going to be imprisoned sooner rather than later as a direct result of the gay marriage ruling. And you know what happens in the joint, don’t you?

Prison

Anyway, Barber recounts a hand-wringing email exchange he had with another self-avowed Christian lawyer, who remains nameless in his Monday column. After speculating that the gay marriage OK will lead to the obligatory state-sanctioned unions of brothers and sisters (ick) and rampant polygamy (just a tad less ick), Barber’s pen pal pronounces:

In my 35 years as a Christian, I never seriously believed we might end up in prison for our faith — except, perhaps, for something like a pro-life demonstration. This is the first time it seriously occurs to me that the trajectory of the nation is such that it is possible in five to 10 years.

Because, as you are well aware, the Christians are such an oppressed minority in this country.

Barber couldn’t agree with his friend more. He writes:

Do I believe Christians will face real persecution, such as loss of livelihood, civil penalties, physical abuse or even jail? Absolutely.

So, there you have it. Gay marriage equals Christian concentration camps.

And, yeah, I’m superior to these howler monkeys, moral- and intellectual-wise.

It does feel good. Thanks, WND.

Borrowers, Lenders & The Mob

Margaret, the Big Cheese at the Book Corner, Bloomington’s only independent bookseller where I peddle ’em Mondays through Wednesdays, will probably clunk me in the head for this one but, I gotta tell you, I’m becoming addicted to the library.

Book Corner

Not The Library

I’m reading a couple of books a week now, mainly because I’ve been borrowing from the Monroe County Public Library. I have zero idea why I haven’t done this before.

Think of it: your town or big city has within it a system wherein you can take books, CDs, or DVDs home for your personal use — for free. All you have to do is flash a library card.

You may say, Sure, Big Mike, we know all about it, but when’s the last time you did it?

I mean, even the fire department charges your survivors for sending an ambulance over when your heart explodes from a lifetime of sliders and Pop Tarts. The library doesn’t charge you a penny. How can it be that there isn’t a line around the block when the place opens in the morning?

Anyway, I’m just finishing up a book called When Corruption Was King, written by Robert Cooley with help from former Chicago Magazine editor Hillel Levin. Cooley was a mobbed up, kinky lawyer who was in bed with legendary Chicago First Ward bosses Pat Marcy and Fred Roti, who did the bidding of the city’s Outfit.

Roti

Alderman Fred Roti

The Outfit, of course, is Chicagoese for the Mafia, La Cosa Nostra, wiseguys, goodfellas, or whatever Hollywood wants to call organized crime. According to Cooley, the Outfit, through Marcy et al, controlled Cook County’s courts, much of the Chicago Police Department, and too many city agencies to list here. Suffice it to say if you wanted a quick building permit, a zoning variance that the neighbors had been fighting tooth and nail, or just to get your teenaged kid off for denting the skull of some hapless Puerto Rican with a baseball bat, your lawyer paid a visit to Pat Marcy and slipped a nickel or a few dimes into his pudgy hand.

A nickel, in Chicago parlance, is $500. A dime, natch, is a grand.

So, the First Ward boys were the extra-legal funnel through which all smart city business flowed. Marcy and crew took care of the average citizen in the know as well as the big boys who ran the city’s gambling, vice, and narcotics operations, among other colorful pastimes. Most Chicago crime experts believed Marcy was a “made guy,” meaning he was an officially approved member of the Outfit. And, no, the Chicago mob didn’t have any elaborate ceremonies and rituals, the likes of which were portrayed in The Godfather and every other crime movie made since. In fact, the Outfit was an equal opportunity employer, welcoming members of every ethnic group imaginable into its ranks, so long as they were good earners and were willing to snap a guy’s thumb when called upon to do so.

From "The Godfather"

Fiction

Cooley revealed the fixing of murder cases and the buying of state legislation through efforts of Marcy and his guys. Big circuit court judges who’d previously nurtured reputations as law-and-order hard-asses were in truth, Cooley and Levin wrote, guys who’d fix any case for a buck.

See, Cooley was a big player in these shenanigans until, he says, he got fed up, had a change of heart, and walked into the US Justice Department’s Chicago office unannounced and told the feds he wanted to play ball with them. Cooley then wore a wire when he did business with the First Ward boys. The evidence he amassed led to dozens of arrests and convictions and the eventual dismantling of the First Ward pigsty.

Cooley’s no Raymond Chandler or even John Grisham but his story is as riveting as anything they could come up with.

And, by the way, the kind of pervasive corruption that Cooley helped bring down in Chicago’s First Ward may be a thing of the past now but it was built upon the passing of cash from one hand to another.

The last I heard, cash still buys things. Enough of it can still buy permits, justice, and legislation. Only now, the system is nationwide, or even global, as opposed to Pat Marcy’s petit-realm. Look at the so-called Monsanto Protection Act for proof.

We need a new Robert Cooley.

Your Daily Hot Air

World To End

Yeah. We humans have hit bottom. There is no hope left. Our time here was sort of interesting. We came up with Shakespeare, Gershwin, Apollo 11, quantum electrodynamics, Arrested Development, pizza, chocolate, and Gandhi.

All of that has been negated by two very recent developments, both of which are documented by Jezebel.

First, vampire-obsessed author Anna Rice identifies the real victim in the Paula Deen dust-up:

From Jezebel

And as if that isn’t bad enough, violent gangs who identify themselves by their affiliations with boy-bands are now roaming our streets:

From Jezebel

Humanity is survived by no one. It was 4 million years old. Services have not been announced at this time.

Meet The New Boss; Same As The Old Boss

NPR carried a report this morning on the outgoing head of Qatar handing power over to a new leader yesterday. It was, the reporter said, the first peaceful transfer of power in the Persian Gulf sheikdom since it became an independent nation in 1971.

The reins passed from the 61-year-old Sheik Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani to Sheik Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, 33. The now-former emir had himself seized power in the tiny oil nation in a 1995 coup. The fact that the transfer of power took place without the seemingly obligatory uprisings, streets riots, government gassings, air force bombings of rebel strongholds, and assorted beheadings and gang rapes that have become signatures of so many other Middle East upheavals was hailed in the report.

“… [T]he transition — a rarity in a region where leadership changes are nearly always triggered by deaths or palace coups — also sends a message to the wider Middle East. It appears a sweeping response to the Arab Spring upheavals and their emphasis on giving voice to the region’s youth….”

So reads the online version of the report. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Peace. The spirit of the young. The freedom of the Arab Spring.

My response? Cut the horseshit, NPR. Sheik Tamim is the son of Sheik Hamad. The elder boss reportedly is seriously ill. So he decided to allow his kid to sit on the throne a little early. The sole highlight of Sheik Tamim’s resume prior to yesterday’s promotion was the title of Crown Prince. If that’s a “transfer of power,” then the Koch Brothers are social workers.

Gold

The Real Qatari King

Here’s a thumbnail description of Qatar’s government: It’s an absolute monarchy with no independent legislature and in which political parties are outlawed. The old man sheik promised to hold parliamentary elections back in 2005 but they were cancelled. No new date has been set nearly a decade later.

So, really, the big news out of Qatar is — not a damned thing has changed.

Almost Heaven

When I was a kid, I actually believed that my Chicago sports teams were ineligible to win their respective league championships. True. My Cubs, Blackhawks, Bulls, White Sox, and Bears (listed in the order I cared about them) never, ever once mounted a realistic challenge for the title during the endless years of my impressionable youth.

Santo & the Cat, 1969

It reminds me of a story an old pal who’d grown up in Brooklyn once told me. He said his older sister had a vague awareness of pro sports when they were kids (and, by the way, in a big city, the only sports that count are pro sports; which explains my continued amazement at Bloomington’s passion for the IU Hoosiers teams). This Brooklyn guy said his sister had the understanding that baseball’s World Series, under the sport’s rules, was an annual contest between the best team in the National League and…, the New York Yankees.

Sports Illustrated Photo

They Always Won

Makes sense, no? The Yankees won the American League pennant every year but two from 1949 through 1964. To a kid growing up during that span, that’s pretty much the whole of human history. I mean, when I was seven years old I thought that John F. Kennedy had been president forever. It took me years to wrap my head around the fact that he only was in office for a tad more than three and a half years.

Anyway, my Blackhawks played in the Stanley Cup finals in 1971 and ’73, losing both times to the Montreal Canadiens. I was 15 and 17, respectively. And the ‘Hawks failure to win the Cup those years reinforced the notion that Chicago teams simply would not win championships in my lifetime.

It wasn’t until the Bears won the Super Bowl in 1985 that I could enjoy a Chicago championship. I was 28. And, at that, given my indifference to football, the Bears’ big win was pretty much a yawner for me.

Things changed, of course, with the arrival of one Michael Jeffrey Jordan in my town. My Bulls won six NBA titles in eight years during the ’90s. And then, as soon as Michael Jordan went away, so did the Bulls.

Jordan, 1991

By the time I was almost 50, I figured it could only take the all-too-brief appearance of some demi-god to enable a team I rooted for passionately to win in any given year.

The White Sox sneaked into a World Series win in 2005 but, to be frank, that was bittersweet. It mainly reminded me that my Cubs, the one-and-only true sports love of my life, hadn’t won the World Series since 1908. Still haven’t, BTW.

The Blackhawks remain number two in my heart. I wasn’t assumed into heaven when they took the Stanley Cup in 2010, but I did cruise the streets of Bloomington with my radio blaring that night, honking like a nut now and again. Had I been back in Chicago, I would have been one of tens of thousands doing the same thing. Here, I was one. Period.

I sat alone in my garage office last night, chewing my fingernails while listening to the live stream of WGN radio’s broadcast of the game between the ‘Hawks and the Boston Bruins. With just over a minute left to play, the Bruins led 2-1. The ‘Hawks pulled their goalie to put an extra attacker on the ice, usually a desperation move that indicates the game is over. teams pull their goalie when they need a miracle.

My Blackhawks got two miracles within 17 seconds yesterday. They scored twice and won the series, taking the 2013 Stanley Cup. I yelled. I clapped. I pounded on my desk. I put up a pile of goofy, giddy Facebook posts. I was a kid again.

From Facebook

My teams can win titles.

By all rights, I should be assumed into heaven should my beloved Cubs ever win the World Series. Problem is, I don’t believe in heaven. Sigh.

CNN/Bleacher Report Photo

%d bloggers like this: