"I Never Thought It Could Happen Here"

Anybody who has read these weekly rants knows that I have issues. I’m the first to admit that I have serious issues.
But if I didn’t have these personal problems, I wouldn’t have the rage to come up with the material to entertain you fine folks week after week. Instead of letting annoying issues simmer inside until I type my thoughts on my computer screen every Tuesday evening, if I were a normal person I would just smile and plead ignorance.
So here I am once again trying to decide which of many possible enemies I should attack. There are so many potential targets but so little time. So I have narrowed this week’s essay down to three topics.
Let’s start with another session with my buddies across the street at KELO. For years and years, one of my biggest complaints has been the “neighborhood reaction” story. Any time there’s a violent crime, the second story is inevitably an interview with a couple of elderly neighbors that “never thought it could happen here”. I hate to break it to you, folks, but rapes, murders, thefts, and other criminal acts can and will happen anywhere. If they didn’t, why would we need the po-lice? They could just narrow their coverage to those undefined areas where we might think it could happen. I guess that would be porno shops, strip clubs, and downtown bars – incidentally, the exact spots in this area where I personally feel safest.
The reason I bring this issue up once again is because of last night’s six o’clock news. As you probably all know, a homeless person was killed in front of the School For the Deaf yesterday. After the obligatory story describing the discovery of the body and the arrest of the accused perp, accompanied by some great shots of yellow tape and cops observing the crime scene, we had to move on with a story that began with these words, “for some neighbors, news of this morning’s discovery near the South Dakota School For the Deaf is a bit too close for comfort.” Shocked senior citizens and a clem with a great mullet performed as if they had been in the 3000 other stories of this nature. “It’s a quiet neighborhood.” “This is real close.” Blah blah blah.
Let’s put an end to this garbage. If a person didn’t witness the crime, or doesn’t have any pertinent knowledge of the victim, the accused, or the incident in question, they shouldn’t be interviewed. These are the only stories more worthless than the dreaded “KELO-Land connection” to any national story – you know, like when a famous person’s baby’s mama’s brother’s cousin once met a relative of a famous star, or when a star’s distant relative once vacationed in the state. Ok, I take it back – those are worse.
Time to move on – you may recall that a few weeks back I described a particular night as the worst evening in television history. I take that back. Every night that Tom Cruise and his pretend fiancé is mentioned is obviously a worse night, but Tuesday has set the new standard.
In many ways, it was a day just like any other day. Too many of my cable channels seemed to be devoted to the same old crap we’ve had to endure for the past few weeks – not only that awful actor and his Dawson’s Creek bimbo but Brad and Angelina’s “did they or did they not” rumors, Lindsay Lohan’s unconvincing babbling that she doesn’t do coke, awful reality shows devoted to aging rock star ex-wives and wannabe male strippers (which nobody needs to endure), and the many lies and lying liars that are continuously ruining our lives in Washington.
Yet there was more evil than normal on Tuesday, and anybody who tuned into the Today Show should have just hopped back into bed until Wednesday. Not ten seconds into their broadcast and the insufferable Ann Curry was bragging about their exclusive interviews with not only Michael Jackson’s mother but the Runaway Bride, or as I like to call her, the Bug-Eyed Bitch.
Obviously, the interview with little Mickey Jackson’s mamma yielded no information. Hell, they didn’t even try. She was interviewed by that raspy-voiced middle-aged cretin who was just fired by Fox, which should tell you all you need to know about her. The art of a follow-up question is no longer a part of the interview process. Of course, this is how you get so-called exclusives – you promise no tough questions.
Now, the Bug-Eyed Bitch segment wasn’t truly a story – it was a ten minute commercial for the Katie Couric prime time special that has been promoted during every NBC ad break for the past few days. Couric sure looks like she’s prodding her subject – she leans in and lowers her voice as if she’s going in for the kill. Yet when Bug-Eyes gives her nothing in return, Couric just giggles and tosses out softball after softball.
Look, I don’t care about this woman. I don’t care that her husband had found God and refused to give her the beef. I don’t that a 500-guest wedding had made her feel overwhelmed. I don’t care that she’s sorry for all the problems she’s caused. I shouldn’t care. Hell, I shouldn’t even know about it. It was never worthy of a national story, and it’s certainly not worthy of an opportunity for Ms. Couric to show off as the heir apparent to Barbara Walters – like that’s a worthy career goal.
What I do care is this – this twit caused a lot of grief to a lot of people, and I’m not just talking about those of us who were force-fed her story. I’m talking about the families sitting by the phone while she was off getting her socks rocked in Vegas. I’m talking about the police and other personnel who worked long hours not only searching for her but investigating her cockaminie story about a Mexican man and white woman who kidnapped and gang-raped her.
You would think that after all of the grief that she caused that she would just quietly hide for the next 30, 40 years. No, instead she gets a book deal worth a half million dollars, and an hour of prime-time oral sex performed by NBC and Katie Couric.
What’s even worse is that after showering once the performance was concluded, what was now on my television screen? A reality show featuring Paris Hilton’s mother! The premise of this show was that Mrs. Hilton was going to teach social etiquette to part-time actors – I mean small-town country bumpkins. No, they’re not performing for the cameras.
Somebody please explain something to me – what could Mrs. Hilton teach anybody about manners, grace, and social etiquette? Her track record’s not that great. One daughter is famous for many things - her expertise in chatting on her cell phone while filming an amateur porn video, two seasons of misbehavior on her own reality show, and salacious incident after salacious incident in nightclubs and hotel rooms all over the world. The other daughter, while not as headline worthy, has had her own share of bad behavior, including a surprise Britney Spears-type Vegas wedding. I’m sorry, Mrs. Hilton, but I’ve seen June Cleaver, and you’re not her.
Well, I see that my allotted time is up, and I haven’t even gotten to many of the topics I wanted to address today. Nationally, we have what should be (but probably isn’t) the wrap-up of the Terri Schiavo case and the embarrassment this is causing some moronic politicians, along with the repercussions of the Downing Street Memos. Locally, there’s plenty to bitch about – from road construction nightmares to zoo mismanagement to the fiasco at Dan Dugan Park to an incident involving a group of bicyclists and the police. And let’s not forget about the self-serving actions of a certain hospital that sure likes the free market when it’s to their benefit but doesn’t believe that others should have the same rights. More on that next week.


Unknown said…
Need a grand jury.

Post the following to as many blogs asking them to feature it as a regular post.. also when contacting jeb via fax and e-mail include this, and also spread as far and wide as possible:

Michael Schiavo's 30-70 Minute Gap Exploded Away Regarding 911 Call Seeking Assistance for Terri Schiavo

Charts prove a much larger gap in which Michael Schiavo did not seek help and also prove his various testimonies are merely concocted stories made up while under oath,.

Michael Schiavo asserts on Terri Schiavo's tombstone that she departed this earth on February 25, 1990 but failed to tell that to the medical malpractice jury when seeking and winning millions of dollars for her care. Charts explode away 30-70 minute gap mentioned by authorities regarding Terri's "collapse" and time Michael Schiavo waited in seeking help and add an additional 2 hour gap. In fact Michael's accounts proven to be no more than stories hiding his complicity in her collapse. See the charts:

Demand a grand jury! Make sure the special prosecutor is not Bernie McCabe, Everett Rice, Charlie Crist or some other shill of the FL cover-up cabal.


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