A Bunch of Bull in Buffalo

For many years, I’ve been annoyed by an example of The Emperor’s New Clothes — something that seems totally absurd to me, and yet is either unnoticed by thousands of others or else not commented upon for fear of repercussions.

I’m speaking of the athletic department of the University of Buffalo (aka SUNY-Buffalo). Now, while the men’s sports teams of this institution are nicknamed, appropriately enough, the “Bulls,” the women’s sport teams are nicknamed, improbably enough, the “Lady Bulls.”

This is a wonderful example of how, in the Potemkin Village world of Academia, words and the concepts they represent become hopelessly mangled by politically-correct ideology.

I’ll walk readers through this slowly and carefully — not for the benefit of, say farmers, butchers, truck drivers, short-order cooks and others familiar with livestock on a practical level — but rather with the educated folks far removed from the realities of the natural world (including biology professors) who happily cheer on the “Lady Bulls,” to all appearances blissfully unaware of just how ludicrous this nickname really is.

* First, as any farm girl is well aware, bulls are male — period. Simply put, in zoological terms: male bovine = bull; female bovine = cow.

* Second, as is obvious to most anyone over the age of eight or so (except, evidently, university-educated folk), a “Lady” is by definition a human being, and therefore cannot be a four-legged animal. It seems particularly ironic that academic feminists, otherwise so sensitive to linguistic objectification and debasement of women, would give this a pass.

Here, it’s difficult for an admittedly Old-School guy to refrain from invoking the Freudian theory of penis envy. But of course Freud has been sniffed away by modern academics as hopelessly misguided, versus the New Gods of Modern Psychoanalytic Theory such as the Jacques Brothers, Lacan and Derrida, who would never have dreamed of suggesting such a thing. Then again, I doubt if either of them ever checked out any female basketball players, either.

Just Plain Folks, however, certainly have, as witnessed by a Yahoo discussion thread pondering the question “Why are women’s basketball players [sic] … so masculine looking?” Or consider the predicament of one blogger, a former University of Texas basketball player. While attempting to debunk this prevailing perception, she was nonetheless forced to concede that “80% of the female ball players I know ARE Lesbian, masculine, and are not the most attractive girls . …”!

And finally, there’s the case of a George Washington University basketball player, who — in spite of not having any surgery or hormone treatments — simply decided that she was really a man, made a name change (from Kay-Kay to Kye), and then proceeded to go play for the men’s basketball team. And the school, as well as the NCAA, meekly went along with this travesty! All I can say is that must make for a very interesting situation when the team is dressing in the locker room before games — and taking their showers after.

But I digress . . .

To return, then,  to the matter at hand: of course I realize that UB’s womens teams could not possibly consider nicknaming themselves the “Cows” — an equally strained attempt to bookend the men’s teams that would be far more sneer-inducing. Naturally, other feminine animal names such as Does, Mares, Hens, and Ewes — to say nothing of Bitches — aren’t viable, either. All I’m suggesting is that they carry either a gender-neutral animal nickname (e.g. Tigers, Panthers … Cougars?), or else a feminine nickname that truly is, in fact, feminine (e.g. Falcons, Vixen … Cougars?)

To convey sheer ferocity, how about the She-Wolves? Or perhaps, to appeal to more refined sensibilities, the Chantelles? The possibilities are numerous, but in any case “Lady Bulls” ought to be put out to pasture.

“Poor” Gal Homeless — By (very poor) Choice

One Woman’s Fight to Rejoin the Middle Class

by Rick Newman

May 24, 2011

A few months after losing her administrative job in the summer of 2008, 23-year-old Brianna Karp got rid of her furniture, a beloved piano, and most of her books so she could move back in with her parents. When that didn’t work out, she moved into an old trailer a relative had left her, settling into an informal homeless community in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Brea, Calif. By the summer of 2009, she was living without electricity, regular showers, home-cooked food, and most basic conveniences. …” [read full story here]

Brianna Karp, whose fight to rejoin the middle class includes taking care of the necessities -- like expensive leather jackets, fancy scarves & hair-dying

Well, may I please have something with which to wipe away the tears?

First of all, it’s tempting to say that her plight is merely karmic punishment for dying her hair an egregiously unnatural color. Little wonder her own parents kicked her to the curb.

But on a more serious note: when asked what she misses the most, she relied: “Playing with my dog in the back yard. … He’s a Neopolitan mastiff. He’s really big.” So, as our finances were going down the toilet, we were indulging in an unnecessarily over-sized (speaking of unnatural) mutt that eats more than your average family in India and could eat any number of American families out of house and home? OK, that makes sense . . .

The writer of this puff-piece glosses over the particulars of Karp’s job loss, something a real journalist might’ve pursued. It turns out, according to folks who know her personally, that she routinely called in “sick” at least once a week. Sick of working a real job, I’d say — I guess she needed more time to play with her dog.

Here’s the real kicker, though. Asked what her lowest moment has been, she said:

  Going through a breakup with my fiance. It ended badly with me waiting for him at a train station, abandoned in the snow in a blizzard. We met on Twitter. He was my first follower. He lived in Scotland and …  got laid off. He couldn’t support the house he was living in. …  And he wasn’t close with his family. So he put everything into a suitcase and ended up homeless. Then he started a website about homeless people, and discovered my blog.

We visited each other and made plans to get married. I scraped up enough money to visit him in Scotland — surprise him … . I got a surprise of my own. There was a woman staying in his house. I was shocked. … So I stayed in a little hotel … spent all my money, and after a couple of days, they both packed their bags and left. The only contact with him since then was a two-line email saying, basically, “I can’t explain.”

Well, I can certainly explain: she’s obviously an idiot with a total lack of any sound instincts for managing her financial affairs. I mean, here she is making the very pragmatic and intelligent decision to stabilize her situation by marrying another homeless person whom she met via Twitter (coincidentally, also kicked to the curb by his parents), and then spending what little money she had to go meet him in Scotland? REALLY?!

"You MUST pay the rent!"

“… waiting for him at a train station, abandoned in the snow in a blizzard.” How . . . melodramatic. I’m surprised she didn’t tell us that he tied her to the railroad tracks. Now THAT would make for a truly classic version of the damsel-in-distress.

Oh, by the way, she tells us that she inherited that old trailer from a relative who committed suicide earlier that same year. Hmm … how convenient for her. That’s quite a family she’s got there, isn’t it? I was unaware that Wal-Mart is willing to let homeless people camp out in dilapidated trailers rent-free in their parking lots. I know California is a bit more, well, loosey-goosey than most places, but that nonetheless strains belief.

And speaking of truth versus fiction, that brings me to a theory suggested by several who’ve read this story, one connected to yet another, even more remarkable element of this grand saga. It turns out that Ms. Karp, who like so many others these days feels compelled to share her pathetic story and make a public display of what, in a more dignified era, used to be considered an embarrassment best kept private, has actually managed to garner a contract to write a book (which I won’t dignify by naming here, lest I give it free and unmerited publicity) and even collected an advance for it (which, of course, is all gone). It’s too bad that Oprah is off the air — she just LOVES victimology narratives depicting plucky women overcoming the challenges of life’s hard knocks and smiling through the tears (and, naturally, telling the entire world ALL about it).

Many have theorized that the entire thing is a scam, designed to get a publisher on board and sell books to a reading public with a regrettable taste for such self-indulgent, self-pitying, self-serving drekk. I’ll admit that I’m willing to entertain this hypothesis. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that a creatively unscrupulous writer-wannabe with nothing worthwhile to write about has concocted a phoney-baloney story starring him/herself.

Stephen Glass, star of his own dope show

One of the most infamous instances was the case of Stephen Glass, a journalist who perpetrated serial fraud over a three-year period at The New Republic from 1995 to 1998. As detailed by Wikipedia, Glass fabricated quotations, sources, and even entire events in articles he wrote for that magazine and others. After being fired from TNR, his deceitful career was dramatized in the film Shattered Glass. Of course, rather than slink away like anyone blessed with a conscience and sense of shame might do, Glass trumpeted his repellant story in The Fabulist, a 2003 novel whose protagonist is named … Stephen Glass.

Frey chatting with his biggest fan, who honored his mendacity by adding his "work" to her book club

Or consider the example of James Frey and his book A Million Little Pieces. As The Smoking Gun points out, it was a complete flim-flam by this “author,” who wholly fabricated or wildly embellished details of his purported criminal career, jail terms, and status as an outlaw “wanted in three states.” Unsurprisingly, it thoroughly hoodwinked Oprah and her entire staff of professional bleeding-hearts  (who seem almost childish in their credulity about such things).

One blogger, taking a somewhat different perspective, has objected to the way in which Ms. Karp has trivialized the issue of homelessness and distracted attention from those who really are enduring this situation, as opposed to professional dilettantes like this silly woman, who is evidently slumming and expecting to get paid for it.  Read Edward Carney’s very articulate and well thought-out post here on his excellent blog “Breaking Point.”

Surely, this latest won’t be the last such “story.”

Buffalo Chips? . . .

NY inmate separates guards fighting over food

April 29, 2011

BUFFALO, N.Y. – Talk about a role-reversal: Two New York jail guards are in trouble after an inmate stepped in to break up their fight over food.

Erie County Undersheriff Mark Wipperman says both corrections officers are suspended with pay after what he calls an “embarrassment.” The inmate required medical attention. … [reportedly for a knocked-out tooth]

He wouldn’t confirm a Buffalo News report that the April 21 bout started over a bag of chips. … at Erie County Correctional Facility. …

Wipperman identified the officers as Lawrence Mule, a 26-year veteran, and James Conlin, who was hired 29 years ago. A message with the officers’ union wasn’t immediately returned.

Now, I realize that folks in Buffalo take their junk food VERY seriously, but really … over a bag of chips?!  After all, these are two (ostensibly) professional law enforcement officers with 55 years on the job between them.

Of course, if the fight had been over the last spicy-hot Buffalo chicken wing, or the remnants of a beef-on-weck sandwich (pronounced SAING-wich), well, that obviously would have justified any violence, including gunplay. But, hey … take it outside, boys — we wouldn’t want to set a bad example for the inmates, would we? . . .

"You're goddamned right, I can't eat just one!"

A Nominal Ray of Hope … perhaps

The Most Hated Baby Names in America

Stephanie Pappas, Senior Writer,
LiveScience.com – Apr 28, 2011

A new informal survey of the most disliked names in America finds that. … [a]mong the most-hated “trendy” names are Jayden, Brayden, Madison and Addison.

The most commonly cited name that put people’s teeth on edge was Nevaeh, or “heaven” spelled backward.

“Nevaeh in particular seems to stand … for what people don’t like in modern baby names,” Laura Wattenberg, author of “The Baby Name Wizard: A Magical Method for Finding the Perfect Name for Your Baby” (Three Rivers Press, 2005), told LiveScience.

Wattenberg did [an] informal survey of hated names for her blog, The Baby Name Wizard. … the survey isn’t scientific, but it does have the advantage of capturing the names people spontaneously hate.

… people hate … Madison (which tied for second-most-hated for boys with 16 separate mentions) and Addison (which tied for sixth with eight mentions). They also hate … Kaitlyn, which got eight mentions and tied for sixth. …

… The most hated boys’ names — Jayden, Brayden, Aiden and Kayden — all rhyme and … [a]mong girls, a spate of “Mc”-names sparked annoyance: Mackenzie, McKenna and Makayla all made the top 10.”

Well, this not only bespeaks a reassuring sense of good taste and common sense on the part of many, it also signifies a gratifying vindication by the Vox Populi of DP’s Official Rule Book, which flagged Kaitlyn (among others) as one of the more regrettable modern trends in baby-naming.

While we commend both Ms. Wattenberg for her cogent sociological research and Ms. Pappas for her courageous journalistic reportage, we can’t help wishing that the extremely unfortunate name Dakota — or, worse yet, Dakoda — which has also seen some  misguided popularity of late, had also been mentioned.

“Hunny”? “Hun”? HUH?!…

Attila the Hun, 406-453

I’d like to know when (and why!) people began (mis)spelling the word “honey” (and its short version) as if they were referring to a follower of Attila the Hun (A.D. 406-453).

I can’t believe I’ve actually seen people on the Internet asking if  “hunny” is the correct spelling! Seriously?! I mean, for heaven’s sake — just stop by your favorite grocery store, go to the aisle with the sugar, corn syrup and other sweeteners, and note how ALL brands of honey are spelled H-O-N-E-Y. It’s been that way for centuries … DUH. (Does anyone remember Van Morrison’s song “Tupelo Honey”? Or Ringo Starr’s cover of the Carl Perkins classic “Honey Don’t”? Or about a hundred other famous songs with the word in its title? . . .)

It has been explained to me that such now-common spellings as “u” (versus “you”), “ur” (versus “you’re”), and “2” (versus “too”) are a result of the pervasiveness of texting as a means of communication. Such abbreviated forms, I’ll grant, are something akin to a latter-day Morse Code. Moreover, with Twitter messages, there is a limit of 140 characters which can be sent in any given (ahem) “Tweet.”

OK, fair enough. Presented with that rationale, I can even manage to grit my teeth and accept it when I see the abominable “prolly” (versus “probably”), since that does save two characters. But why in the Unholy Name of the Powers of Darkness have people taken up using “Hunny” and its short form “Hun”(versus “Hon”), when in neither case a single character or punctuation mark is thereby eliminated?

It seems especially ironic to be using this as a term of endearment, inasmuch as the infamous Attila and his barbaric hordes were notorious for their brutal savagery while enslaving much of Europe during the fifth century.

The answer, I would submit, can be found in the inglorious American educational system, rapidly deteriorating to sub-Third World levels and churning out young people who are as illiterate historically as they are grammatically. So, in the interest of following the dictum that counsels us to “light a candle rather than curse the darkness,” I will present a little remedial history lesson (courtesy of Wikipedia).

As it demonstrates, this is by no means just ancient history, either, since for a generation of Americans who lived through two world wars, “Hun” was by far the worst thing you could call anyone.

Attila the Hun was Khan of the Huns from 434 until his death. He was leader of the Hunnic Empire which stretched from Germany to the Ural River and from the River Danube to the Baltic Sea. During his rule he was one of the most fearsome of the Western and Eastern Roman Empires’ enemies: he invaded the Balkans twice, he marched through Gaul (modern France) as far as Orleans before being defeated at the Battle of Chalons.

Attila is known in Western history and tradition as the grim FLAGELLUM DEI (Latin:”Scourge of God”), and his name has become a byword for cruelty, rapacity, and barbarism.

During the 1900 Boxer Rebellion in China, Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany gave the order to “make the name ‘German’ remembered in China for a thousand years, so that no Chinaman will ever again dare to even squint at a German.” This speech, wherein Kaiser Wilhelm invoked the memory of the 5th-century Huns, coupled with the “Pickelhaube” or spiked helmet then worn by German forces reminiscent of ancient Hun helmets, gave rise to later English use of the term for the German enemy during World War I. This usage was reinforced by Allied propaganda throughout the war, and many British and American pilots referred to their foe as “The Hun.” The usage resurfaced during World War II.

EXTRA, EXTRA: Tragedy Strikes Iowa Newspaper Editor!

Editor loses appeal over bar attack

Des Moines Register Staff• February 12, 2010

A southern Iowa newspaper editor who sued a bar where he was attacked has lost his claim at trial.

An Appanoose County jury sided against Karl “Dan” Ehl, the former managing editor of The Daily Iowegian in Centerville.

Ehl had sued Gordie’s Bar and Grill, a Centerville bar, for serving alcohol to two men who attacked him in September 2006.

The attack stemmed from a front-page article Ehl had written months earlier about a city council meeting. The article mentioned council discussion about repeated police calls to another local bar, The Hot Spot.

The owner of The Hot Spot became so angry about the article that he attacked Ehl, according to court records.

*  *  *

COURT: “Was the story immoral?”

OSCAR WILDE: “It was worse than immoral. It was badly written.”

~  ~  ~

Karl "Dan" Ehl, who believes freedom of the press means freedom to press charges.

Obviously, this is a particularly surreal piece of fiction posing as journalism. First of all, this guy’s “real” name is Karl, but everyone “really” calls him “Dan”?… Whatever.

So what’s matter with the name your parents gave you there, Danno? Afraid Karl with a “K” might make you look a bit too much like some damned Bolshevik to the good God-fearing folks of Centerville?… I mean, you DID attend college in that hotbed of liberalism, Iowa City, dah comrade?

And speaking of “Centerville,” could there be a cheesier pseudo-name? I mean, is this someone’s bright idea of a mythic City of the Great American Heartland or something? Please. Whoever cooked up this bogus reality-show-in-print (N.B. — note the byline, which means some underpaid rookie J-school grads) could’ve done a little better than THAT, no?

I suppose “Ehl” (L?) signifies that noble American Liberty he represents, the one countless Americans have fought and died for — the right to sue anybody in any way connected with your personal unhappiness. In this particular case, Komrade Karl sued some bar for, well, selling some drinks to a couple of guys (who later beat him up, which is obviously the bar’s fault … I guess).

No, I’m not making this up, folks — but surely someone else did so! After all, truth just can’t be THAT much stranger than fiction, even in southern Iowa (which is, for all practical intents and purposes, northern Missouri … with all that implies).

Now I’ll grant that I’ve been using the term “Iowegian” for some time … but as a pejorative (with its connotations of a risk-averse culture of personality-deficient Scandinavians), NOT a newspaper name. No one would “really” name their paper that — I mean, no “real” journalist would intentionally make their newspaper an unfunny little joke .. would they?… Is that why he’s being portrayed as a “former” editor?…

Oh, one other thing — evidently, we’re expected to believe that ANOTHER bar, this one rather improbably called “The Hot Spot,” was supposedly the point of contention in this altercation?!

Hot Spot … Centerville … Iowa … am I the only one not getting this?…

You get to think like one of those Vast-Spaces-of-America writers, he said to himself. Better watch it.”  –Ernest Hemingway, The Strange Country

The Swiss Menace, Redux

This photograph, taken by hidden camera and smuggled into Liechtenstein, shows bogus cartographers at work in a secret facility somewhere in Zurich. Here, operatives for the Swiss secret service are seen fabricating pseudo-scientific pretexts to provide legitimacy for Swiss territorial ambitions.

Today, Furggsattel Sesselbahn — Tomorrow … Milan?

Glaciers melt, Swiss get some territory from Italy
AP
Aug. 19, 2009
BERN, Switzerland – Switzerland has expanded its border at Italy’s expense because of melting glaciers in the high Alps. The Swiss government on Wednesday approved shifting the border up to 150 meters (164 yards) into Italian territory in some areas.

The changes were made after the Swiss Federal Office of Topography found that the watershed which determined the border in 1942 had moved because of melting glaciers and snow fields. Topographer Daniel Gutknecht says Switzerland has become “a little bit” larger but added “we won’t be correcting the atlas.”

The Italian embassy in Bern said the change has already been approved by Rome. The shift moves the final stop of the Furggsattel Sesselbahn ski station near the famed Matterhorn peak onto Swiss territory.

Oh, I see, a watershed has “moved” — and it’s all the fault of that nasty global warming no one seems able to do anything about. The Swiss had no real choice, you understand … and after all, it’s only 150 meters. There’s certainly no need to “correct” the atlas (which would rather inconveniently require approval by an international body of cartographers), right, Herr Gutknecht?…

And in the process, Switzerland just so happens to wrest complete control of access to a world-famous — and highly lucrative — tourist attraction, all without firing a shot! It’s rather interesting that the last border determination by Switzerland was made in 1942. I seem to recall that there was a minor little war going on at the time, which may have distracted the attention of the Italians somewhat. So, this is yet another example of Swiss “neutrality,” I suppose?

Two years ago, DP’s crack team of investigative journalists homed in on another little-noticed wire story detailing an “accidental” incursion by Swiss troops into Liechtenstein, uncovering what many feared was the opening gambit in a complex Swiss plot to re-write the map of Europe [read story].

Those who dismiss this as merely an overwrought conspiracy theory lacking foundation would do well to recall that in 1999, the world was stunned when the BBC reported that Switzerland’s secret service had perpetrated a multi-million dollar fraud. A subsequent investigation revealed the existence of a huge cache of armaments near Bern, leading to widespread speculation about a high-level connection to organized crime or even the setting up of a secret army [read original story].

Here, with clever calculation, the Swiss government, counting on today’s short media cycles and the limited attention span of the general public, patiently bided its time after the infamous Liechtenstein incursion of January 2008. Then, secure in the belief (given the distractions of other, seemingly more critical global conflicts) that few, if any, would connect the dots between that ugly incident and this latest outrage, it struck again.

 

The Matterhorn rises majestically above the site of the latest Swiss land grab. Residents of Milan, a scant 90 miles to the southeast, might well be wondering how soon Swiss occupation troops will be marching into their city.

However, this time there are real and lasting consequences. As the Swiss imperialist juggernaut creeps ever-southward towards Milan, there is a clear and present existential danger facing Europe (well, Italy, anyway, if that counts). A de facto Greater Switzerland now exists on the ground.

And the Italian ambassador says Rome is OK with all this, eh? I don’t suppose that has anything to do with the formidable Swiss Guard contingent stationed across town at the Vatican, does it? After all, the Italian army is … well, the less said about that the better.

So what can be done to head off this aggressive Swiss hyper-nationalism? Call on the EU? They can’t coordinate a coffee break, much less a military operation. The UN? Well, given the marvelous job they’re doing in the Congo, it might not be such a good idea to get that outfit involved, either.

The Obama administration has succeeded in persuading the Swiss to implement (albeit begrudgingly) a degree of transparency in their murky financial institutions, long-known for complicity in large-scale governmental corruption and organized criminal activity around the globe.

Only the U.S. had the muscle to force Switzerland’s shady financiers and their Silent Partners to open their books to the light of day. Will quietly assertive American diplomacy be able to rein in Swiss imperial designs as well, or will its overtaxed fighting men and women again be compelled to act as the world’s police force?

Passion & Politics: Melodrama in the Österreich

Far-right Austrian leader sacked for revealing gay affair with Jörg Haider

The London Times
October 23, 2008

VIENNA — The successor of the Austrian far-right leader Jörg Haider was dismissed yesterday after he revealed a “special” relationship “far beyond” friendship with his former mentor.

In tearful interviews … Stefan Petzner spoke openly about his affair with Haider, who died at the age of 58 in a high-speed car crash after a heavy drinking session at a gay club this month. Haider’s party, the Alliance for the Future of Austria, captured 11 per cent of the vote in national elections last month .

“He was the man of my life. Our relationship went far beyond friendship,” Mr Petzner, 27, said after only a week in the job, adding that Haider’s wife, Claudia, 52, “did not object” to their relationship.

“I only had him. Now I am all alone. I would spend nights with him and his family and that was important for me because I often was afraid to be alone in the dark,” he added.

Jörg Haider and Stefan Petzner during happier days. Evidently, this charming couple liked to leave the lights on.

Q: What’s worse than an Austrian neo-Nazi?

A: A gay Austrian neo-Nazi?

Q: Yes. And what’s even worse than that?

A: A gay Austrian neo-Nazi … who’s afraid of the dark?

Q: Correct.

~ ~ ~

Well … one scarcely knows where to begin with this little item. It would be all-too-too easy to wax indignant at the utter hypocrisy of gay men espousing Nazism, an ideology responsible for the persecution and death of thousands of gays and lesbians (along with Jews, Gypsies, Slavs and other lesser breeds). It’s equally tempting to denounce the Austrian press, which has strenuously ignored the flagrant contradiction between the public pronouncements and the private peccadillos of its leading neo-Nazis.

I don’t toss that term around lightly here. Haider had earned international notoriety for a series of outrageous statements, including praise for the Waffen-SS and the employment policies of the Nazi government. He came by his beliefs honestly, one would have to say: his father was a Nazi stormtrooper (i.e. “brownshirt”), and his mother was a leading member of  the League of German Girls, the female branch of the Hitler Youth.

Petzner and Haider raising a toast of white wine -- doubtless a symbolic salute to Aryan supremacy. Prost!

Gay men — even neo-Nazis — are known for being hard-partying types, and you might say that parties were the Alpha and the Omega of the Haider-Petzner relationship.

Petzner was a university student when he met Haider at a party, after which he dropped out of school and became Haider’s “special friend.” At the time, Petzner was also working as a journalist, writing about (ahem) cosmetic treatments. Obviously, a serious young man of great depth — just who you’d want assuming leadership of a national political party. (In fact, he could be termed the “Sarah Palin of Austria,” although in fairness the former Alaska governor did manage to complete her degree in “sports journalism” — albeit attending five different colleges to do it).

Now, on the night of the fatal crash, Messrs. Haider and Petzner evidently had a bit of a spat at a magazine launch party. Anonymous sources claim that Petzner unkindly suggested Haider (who was twice his age) ought to lay off the tanning salon sessions and start some Botox treatments. Haider, according to these sources, took umbrage, feeling that his perpetual tan gave him a glow of youthful vitality nicely set off by the ice cream-colored suits that comprised most of his wardrobe.

In any case, Haider left hurriedly and drove to a gay club in Klagenfurt, his home town, where he drank vodka with male escorts. He then left the club and got behind the wheel of his car despite being barely able to walk. Obviously, a responsible man of good judgment — just who you’d want serving as a senior statesman in your country’s government.

To cite a quotation that has been variously ascribed to Adlai Stevenson, G. Bernard Shaw, Thomas Jefferson, Joseph de Maistre, Alexis de Tocqueville, William Shakespeare and Hunter S. Thompson: “In a democracy, people get the government they deserve,” which is to say that the moral integrity and character of elected officials is a reflection of the values of those that voted them into office.

Kurt Waldheim, Austria's 9th president. As a young man, Waldheim applied for membership in the Nazi Party shortly after Germany annexed Austria in 1938. A real patriot, to be sure.

Nowhere, I would submit, is this more true than in Austria, which also gave us Kurt Waldheim — remember him?

Craven opportunism ran in Waldheim’s family. His father, a Catholic of Czech ethnicity named Watzlawick, changed his name in 1918 when the Habsburg monarchy collapsed. Young Kurt was in the Austrian Army from 1936-7 before serving in the Wehrmacht officer corps from 1941-45.

Waldheim went on to become secretary-general of the United Nations in 1972. In that position, he tacitly endorsed a letter sent to him by Idi Amin applauding the massacre of the Israeli Olympic athletes in Munich, guided a resolution asserting that Zionism was a form of racism, and described the Israeli rescue of hijacked airline passengers at Entebbe, Uganda as “a serious violation of the national sovereignty of a United Nations member state. “

To reward Waldheim for bringing such honor upon their country as an international diplomat, the Austrian people elected him president in 1986. (Incidentally, his history of anti-Semitism did not prevent the Vatican from smiling upon him, either: in 1994, Pope John Paul II awarded Waldheim a knighthood in the Order of Pius IX.)

Kid Rock; or, Arrested Adolescence

Kid Rock, judge differ on community service

AP, Dec. 3, 2008

LOS ANGELES – Kid Rock is upset that he can’t pick the good deed that will serve as his punishment for a brawl at a Georgia Waffle House.

In a post on his Web site, the rocker blasts a judge for denying his request to serve his 80 hours of community service by performing for U.S. troops stationed in the Middle East.

“Apparently he thinks it’s more important that I do something else rather than sing, shake hands, [and ] take pictures…” the singer wrote in a message posted on his site.

A recent mug shot of Robert J. Ritchie (aka "Kid Rock"), who rose to fame and fortune by proclaiming "I wanna be a cow-boy, ba-by."

That’s right, Kiddo – the judge apparently thinks you shouldn’t be having a good time while serving a criminal sentence, but instead should be doing something more-or-less unpleasant — you know, the way non-rock stars have to do when they get community service. Imagine that — what a travesty of justice!

As I recall, “Snoop Dogg” — who I prefer to call by his real name, Cordozar Calvin Broadus, Jr. — wanted to coach Little League football as his mandated community service after his multiple felony convictions. I guess he figures that his various videos espousing sex, drugs, and violence make him an ideal role model for young boys (I wasn’t aware that he was such an expert on football, either).

Cordozar Calvin Broadus Jr. (aka "Snoop Dogg"). Just the sort of model citizen you'd want coaching your son's football team, right?

And I think “Boy George” — who I prefer to call by his real name, George O’Dowd — made several suggestions as to what he considered appropriate community service as punishment for filing a false police report and cocaine possession. These included holding a fashion and makeup workshop, serving as a D.J. at an HIV/AIDS benefit, and doing telephone outreach for troubled teens. Say … isn’t that the same guy who was recently busted for tying up male prostitute Auden Carlsen and whipping him with a chain? Yeah … I can see how he’d be just the fellow to help youngsters sort out their psychological issues and make healthy lifestyle choices.

George O'Dowd (aka "Boy George"). He's used to making a public spectacle of himself, of course, and this outfit is downright invisible compared to the getups he wears on stage and about town.

Leaving aside the matter of how preposterous it would be for a judge to let either of those individuals anywhere near a young person in any capacity — much less that of a coach or counselor — what is really breathtaking is the sheer arrogance of these Legends In Their Own Mind, who are obviously used to being lords of their petty domains, surrounded by an entourage of fawning “assistants” who clean up their messes after them. The idea that they, not … oh, a judge, should be the ones to determine their appropriate punishment seems to be universal among that ilk.

But getting back to “Kid Rock” — who I prefer to call by his real name, Robert J. Ritchie — he also complained that the judge’s ruling was a “slap in the face” and that he is having trouble thinking of a better form of community service. OK, Mr. Ritchie, I realize you’ve made a brand name out of glorifying your eternal post-adolescence, so I’ll try to make this real simple for you — you know, like I would for … well, a kid: it was SUPPOSED to be a slap in the face, dude! That’s what judges are doing when they hand down punishments, not giving slaps on the wrist. Oh, and don’t strain your booze-and-drug addled brain trying to think of a better form of community service, OK? I’m quite sure the judge will be able to come up with something without any help from you, believe it or not.

[UPDATE #1]

Jury awards $40,000 in damages in Kid rock case

By  KAREN ROSEN, Associated Press

Sep 17, 2010

DECATUR, Ga. – A suburban Atlanta jury awarded $40,000 Friday to a man who says musician Kid Rock and his entourage beat him and smashed his cell phones during a 2007 fight at a Waffle House restaurant.

Harlen Akins sued Kid Rock, whose real name is Robert James Ritchie, and five members of his entourage over the fight. …

Akins sought $6,000 in medical fees and an unspecified amount in punitive damages. The jury decided not to award punitive damages, but gave him $40,000 in compensatory damages. … He said $6,000 was granted for medical expenses, $700 for the market value of the two cell phones, and the rest for pain and suffering.

The damages will be divided among the four remaining defendants based on how much responsibility each was assigned. Kid Rock will pay 15 percent …  [H]is guitarist Jason Krause will pay 70 percent … because he threw the first punch, the foreman said.

The musician pleaded guilty in March 2008 to a misdemeanor charge of simple battery stemming from the melee.

[UPDATE #2]

Kid Rock knows his name is ridiculous, calls stage persona ‘the worst name in the world’

BY GATECRASHER, NY DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER

April 20, 2011

Kid Rock thinks his name is just as dumb as you do. In Esquire‘s May issue, which hits newsstands next Tuesday, Robert Ritchie admits his stage persona is “the worst name in the world.”

~ ~ ~

I’ve got a little news flash for these privileged egomaniacs who obviously have no concept of accountability: community service isn’t supposed to be fun! It’s designed to be the sort of thing that makes you never want to have to do it again! And you certainly shouldn’t expect to look good doing it. In fact, you’re supposed to look like a dork in your orange-striped safety vest or janitorial overalls. Yes, public humiliation is part of the package.

That’s why Broadus had to clean toilets, rake leaves, wash cars and pick up litter in an Orange County park for his community service. That’s why O’Dowd had to sweep leaves and trash off NY City sidewalks for his.

Naomi Campbell blows the paparazzi a kiss while leaving court after pleading guilty to assaulting a maid. She's the very picture of remorse and contrition, wouldn't you say?

And that’s why Naomi Campbell (which evidently is her real name) had to mop floors in a NYC warehouse for throwing a cellphone at her maid (but the latest in a string of such incidents), instead of … oh, giving beauty tips to aspiring young models. Not that it seems to have accomplished much. Less than a year later, Campbell was sentenced to another 200 hours of community service after kicking and spitting on two police officers following an “air rage” incident at London’s Heathrow Airport. It seems one of her bags had been misplaced, you see, which of course fully justified her accusations of racism against airline personnel.

Campbell, incidentally, also listed her (real) name as the (real) author of a (really) trashy novel titled Swan. The book, about  a supermodel being blackmailed over dark secrets in her past, was actually written by someone named Caroline Upcher. When confronted about her dishonesty, Campbell waved it aside in her best prima dona style, airily explaining: “I just did not have time to sit down and write a book.”

Yes, assaulting domestics and policemen can certainly be time-consuming, no doubt.