Pop-Up Post: Joke to Jail

Would-be social activist Michael Turley (courtesy of the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office)

Last year, 40-year-old Michael David Turley of Phoenix, Arizona posted a video on YouTube that recently resulted in him being charged and convicted of endangerment and a terrorism hoax.

And clearly, Turley is no terrorist.

What he is—and I know I throw this word around a lot, mostly because it applies to so many people I read about in the news—is a jackass.

Pretend terrorist on the corner (courtesy of YouTube)

Check out coverage of Turley’s video HERE.

In actuality, the actor was Turley’s nephew and this was no social experiment; it was a practical joke that landed Turley in hot water and could, in turn, land him in jail for up to five years.

I hope it was worth it.

Pop-Up Post: The Bad Teacher

This history teacher is history himself, at least at Gateway High School (courtesy of Andrew Swope)

Want to see what happens when a high school teacher reaches his breaking point and lashes out at a student?

As if this kind of thing never happens.

Check out the latest video from Gateway High School in St. Louis, Missouri. It is truly disturbing and can be found HERE, along with the original news story.

Basically, 16-year-old Stephanie White told her history teacher that she preferred to attend some other class where they were showing a movie. This apparently didn’t go over well and an argument ensued, one that ended with White‘s teacher slamming a desk on the ground and shoving her into some other desks nearby.

As is normally the case, the whole altercation was caught on video by another student who was quick on the draw with his cell phone. I can only assume it has found its way onto YouTube as well, though I didn’t look for it there.

The teacher was, of course, placed on administrative leave pending an investigation. And police may charge both White and her stressed-out teacher for the incident, although no details have been released yet.

It never ceases to amaze me how some people allow their emotions to get the best of them in situations where they know others will witness their bad behavior. And though I have no idea what prompted this attack—aside from the whole “let me watch a flick in some other class” thing—it is possible that White was behaving badly, too.

The difference is that when you’re a teacher, you have to learn to deal with this sort of thing because it happens a lot. And to me, the best approach—if you’re not getting through to a disruptive or annoying student—is simply to kick them out and/or send them to the principal’s office.

Collectively, we all want to bring an end to school violence, especially given all the shootings recently. There’s even talk of arming teachers with handguns and training them to handle violent situations, including active shooters on campus. But I ask you this: What might this teacher have done if he was packing a gat?

I shudder at the thought. And I hope stories like this will convince the “powers that be” that when it comes to guns in schools, the best approach is to ban them altogether. Otherwise, things could get much, much worse.

UPDATE: It was just reported that the history teacher responsible for this unwarranted attack—33-year-old Peter J. Sheppard—has been charged with third-degree assault. Thankfully, though, no charges were filed against the student. I think she’s been through enough, to be sure.

Hoffa Found… Again?

Hoffa rarely disguised his contempt (courtesy of Getty Images)

For nearly half a century, the disappearance of former Teamsters boss Jimmy Hoffa—reportedly from the Machus Red Fox restaurant in Bloomfield Township, Michigan—has remained one of America’s most popular unsolved mysteries. Conspiracy theories involving mobsters, hit men and all manner of criminal elements abound. And it seems like every year, someone new comes forward with information that will supposedly lead to Hoffa’s final resting place, but inevitably leads nowhere.

The most recent disappointment came last September when someone in Roseville, Michigan claimed to have seen a body buried under his driveway in 1975, not long after Hoffa went missing. Unfortunately, experts drilled, tested soil samples and could find no evidence of human decomposition.

Before that Hoffa’s remains were alleged to be: on a horse farm; under an above-ground pool; in a Cleveland tavern; packed into compressed metal that was later used to build Japanese cars; sealed within a 50-gallon drum at a waste facility; buried in one of the end zones at Giants Stadium; and even melded within the concrete foundation of General Motors’ headquarters.

The truth is that no one knows what happened to Jimmy on that fateful day in 1975, but a recent claim seems to hold more merit than most. And it comes from a source that many law enforcement officials consider to be “highly reputable” and “the right man at the right time”: former Detroit crime boss Anthony Joseph Zerilli.

Tony Zerilli leads police to the site (courtesy of Tickle The Wire)

In 1970, Tony Zerilli took over for his father as head of the Detroit Partnership crime syndicate, part of the notorious Italian Cosa Nostra—you know… the guys that make sure you “sleep with the fishes” if you don’t pay your debts or do their bidding?

Think The Godfather, only for real.

Unfortunately for Tony, he got popped by the feds in 1974 for some shady casino dealings and went to prison. His father Joseph Zerilli came out of retirement to lead “The Partnership” again and in July 1975, the Teamsters boss went missing. It stands to reason that Joseph knew Hoffa’s whereabouts—after all, he was the Head Honcho of the Detroit mob at the time—so it is at least possible that Tony had this information.

And Tony not only claimed to know where Hoffa’s body was buried; he gave the exact location to an NBC reporter this past January.

After leaving prison in 1979, Zerilli allegedly spoke with a mob enforcer friend who told him about the contract on Hoffa—which came from Detroit’s crime bosses (including Joseph Zerilli)—and provided details about his fate. Hoffa was lured to a meeting, presumably at the Machus Red Fox restaurant, captured and taken to a farm roughly 20 miles away that a mob underboss owned. Here he was killed and buried in a shallow grave until his body could be moved later. Unfortunately, that day never came and for all intents and purposes, Hoffa should still be there.

At least that’s the story Tony Zerilli told. And it seems to have been enough since as I’m writing this, investigators are on-the-scene at the farm in Oakland Township just north of Detroit—somewhere near the intersection of Adams and Buell Roads—where Hoffa was supposedly murdered.

A map of the latest Hoffa burial site (courtesy of David Pierce/Detroit Free Press)

I checked it out on Google Earth and it’s definitely a remote area. There is some development nearby, but that would not have been the case in 1975. Back then, I’m sure there was farmland as far as the eye could see.

What I find most interesting about Zerilli’s story is that it was convincing enough to secure a search warrant for private property, owned I’m sure by someone completely innocent of any Hoffa-related crimes. The FBI special agent in charge of the Detroit field office—Bob Foley—told reporters that the information Zerilli provided “reached the threshold of probable cause, which was sufficient to allow us to obtain a search warrant.”

In other words, there could be some truth to Zerilli’s claim. I seriously doubt it, of course—given all the rumors, wolf-crying and disappointment over the years—but I certainly hope it’s true. This mystery has gone unsolved long enough and the time has come to finally put it to rest.

That way we can focus on solving more important mysteries… like the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot or why the makers of Vienna Sausages insist on packing their wieners in gelatinous goo. What’s up with that?

Trouble with the Man

Great stories are everywhere! (courtesy of Storify)

As I normally do whenever I have some spare time—which is increasingly rare since I became a parent—I sat down with my laptop and started scouring the news sites for interesting stories, updates and, most importantly, trends. I always find it fascinating when themes emerge among unrelated stories from various sources. And you can always count on human beings to form patterns and express similarity even though they are thousands of miles apart.

Just look at religion.

People often wonder how civilizations that were separated—sometimes by vast expanses of impassable seas—managed to develop religions that were nearly identical to one another. Major players and nitpicky details may have differed here and there, but for the most part, beliefs here easily correlated to beliefs there. It’s uncanny unless you believe as I do that all humans are one race. Commonalities like these exist because we are connected by a common thread, one that binds us regardless of age, culture, generation, gender and any other measure, including geographical location.

Of course, this isn’t intended to be some kind of New Age treatise on the brotherhood of man, so I’ll move on.

Weekend news is rarely very exciting. And after a while, the headlines all started to look the same to me: “Man in dress bites dog;” “Man with knife threatens drive-thru employee;” “Man connected to death of former Playmate.” Then something occurred to me.

Whoever this “man” is, he sure gets around!

I mean, I knew a little about The Man already, but little more than the next guy. Growing up in 1970s America first introduced me to him, but not in a very positive way. When some of my black friends mentioned The Man, they likely meant white folks like me—or at least the ones in power, like every President by that time—but always told me they meant the cops. And when my white friends used the term, it was always in this context and almost exclusively at parties: “Hide the kegs! Here comes The Man!”

The Pixies (courtesy of The Guardian UK)

There was also the song “Here Comes Your Man” by the Pixies, which I loved even though it never referenced The Man. I just felt like mentioning it. Great tune.

More recently, The Man has been used in a complimentary—albeit slightly dated—way: “You got me a lap dance, too! You the man!” Fortunately, you don’t hear this as often anymore, which is fine with me. It had run its course as much as “you go girl” before it. Fun while it lasted, though.

In an effort to better understand The Man and his role in the local news of arguably every station in the U.S., I decided to focus my attention only on stories that began with that mundane moniker: Man. If I were to reproduce them all here, this would be the longest blog post ever written. And believe me… I’m not trying to break any records.

Instead, I want to provide you with a glimpse into what The Man has been doing recently. Though randomly selected and seemingly unrelated, the common thread again is The Man and all he has done or experienced, as these stories attest. Tomorrow will bring new exploits, to be sure, but here is a snapshot of The Man in all his glory… or not.

HORSE HOSTAGE

A man from Henryville, Pennsylvania—18-year-old Xavier Papo Liciaga-DeJesus (try saying that three times fast)—just pleaded guilty to charges of burglary and gun theft stemming from two incidents last April. In the first, Papo (the obvious way to refer to him given his long, unpronounceable name) stole cash, a gun and other items from a property in nearby Mountainhome—even returning to rob the place a second time. But that is not what sets Papo’s story apart.

It’s what happened during the second incident.

On this particular occasion, a woman who lived at the targeted property walked out to her car and found a note on it. It read “come naked to the orange truck… or your horse will die.” You read that correctly. Papo was holding the woman’s horse hostage and planned to trade its life for sex. Needless to say, the police were called, Papo was arrested and he immediately confessed to all the crimes I mentioned.

In other words, no one will ever call Papo a criminal mastermind. And even if they do, they won’t really mean it. Poor Papo!

Hampton fights for gay rights (courtesy of WNEM-5)

GAY BLOOD

A gay man in Midland County, Michigan—Shane Hampton—is protesting the Federal Drug Administration’s policy of prohibiting gay men who are sexually active from donating blood. To spread the word—not “The Word”—he set up on the sidewalk outside the  Messiah Lutheran Church, the site of a local blood drive.

“Let gays give blood!” Hampton yelled at passersby, but his demonstration was completely peaceful. And he holds no ill will toward the FDA, understanding that sexually-active gay men make up roughly 2% of the US population, but account for more than 60% of all new HIV infections—this came from a 2010 FDA study, but Hampton knows the odds. He just disagrees with the ban on gay blood donors.

“There are a lot of gay men that practice safe sex that are not infected and have good blood that would be going to save people’s lives,” Hampton pointed out. “When they say I can’t just because I choose to love differently than a straight person does, it makes no sense to me. It’s an outdated law.”

I couldn’t agree more, Shane. And don’t they test all the blood anyway? I won’t do the math—mostly because I suck at math—but even 1% of the population with good blood sounds like a lot to me. Seems like a wasted opportunity.

THE CONNECTICUT CHAINSAW MASSACRE

The man in this next story was not killed by a psychopath wearing a mask made from human skin and wielding a chainsaw, but a chainsaw was involved. And what happened to him may have been an accident, but I assure you it was no less gruesome than a low-budget horror film.

His name was not released, but this poor guy was apparently up a tree in suburban Hartford—using a chainsaw to trim branches or something—when he slipped and nearly severed his arm completely. The official word is that is was partially severed, but all that means is that it was dangling there, all bloody and nasty.

Actually, that’s how the man looked once the fire department arrived to rescue him from his 50-foot perch. Fortunately, he was safely extracted and now resides in St. Francis Hospital. No word yet on whether he will keep his arm or not, but one can hope.

Even The Man deserves some good luck from time to time.

Don’t kick the hearse that carries you once you kick off! (courtesy of Wikipedia)

KICKING DEATH

A man in Oklahoma City—25-year-old Dontrell Shaw—was busted Saturday for doing something truly bizarre and damn near unexplainable. He was walking along Northeast 50^th Street when he noticed the last car many of us ever ride in—a hearse—approaching him.

As the morbid vehicle passed by, Shaw suddenly kicked the door and kept kicking it until the police arrived. As he was being arrested—claiming to be some kind of gangster the entire time (he actually had a pretty extensive criminal record)—the cops asked why he started to kick the hearse in the first place. His reason?

“Cause [the hearse] was running up on me!”

Someone should tell Dontrell about roads and how cars run up and down them. After all, even The Man has a right to education.

HAVING GAS

A 19-year-old Detroit man was arrested Friday morning in connection with a failed gas heist at a local Clark station. He and an unknown friend allegedly tried to rob a fuel tanker driver who was filling the station’s underground tanks. Their efforts failed when one of them grabbed the hose from the driver and spilled hundreds of gallons of gas, which had to be cleared later by a hazmat team.

Oddly enough, the gas station was located across the street from the home of the man just arrested for the crime. When police apprehended him—dragging him out in only his underwear—they discovered his gas-soaked clothes piled up in the basement and knew they had their man. His partner, however, remains at large, but he poses little danger to the public.

One look at the failed gas heist he helped plan should be enough to make any law-abiding citizen feel safe!

FLY THE UNFRIENDLY SKIES

A man in Sarasota, Florida just pleaded guilty to flying his carrier plane drunk, if you can believe that. Apparently, he was the only person aboard Flight 840, a cargo flight from my neck of the woods—North Carolina—back to Tampa. And he used his time unwisely, I’m sorry to say.

Air traffic controllers thought something was up when the man—28-year-old Philip Lavoie—started losing contact with them periodically during his flight. Even worse, he started changing his altitude and altering his flight plan, both of which are huge aviation “no-no’s” when you consider that other planes could have accidentally ended up in his path.

FAA controllers immediately radioed Tyndall Air Force Base in Panama City, which dispatched two jet fighters to investigate. Before they could reach Lavoie’s plane, however, he suddenly re-established contact with controllers and eventually landed at his destination. There he was greeted with a field sobriety test—which he failed—and was asked to take a breathalyzer test—which he also failed. Lavoie’s blood alcohol level was roughly 0.27, far exceeding the legal levels in Florida.

If convicted, Lavoie could face up to 15 years in a federal prison. Quite an expensive price to pay for drinks he could have enjoyed in the airport bar once he landed!

Beer cans and more beer cans (courtesy of WGAL-8)

THE HOUSE OF SUDS

A man in York Haven, Pennsylvania takes his hobby collecting beer cans very seriously. In fact, Jeff Lebo claims he has the largest collection of its kind in the world. And he might be right because to store his many aluminum treasures—which at last count numbered around 83,000—he had to build a completely separate house!

The 6,500 square-foot structure lies in a wooded area next door to Lebo’s true home and has housed his collection for more than 15 years. His interest in can collecting began when he was a teenager. His father worked for the American Can Company and the rest, as they say, is history.

“It’s really not the kind of thing you see every day, that’s for sure,” Lebo explained. “And it’s a lot more fun if you can display it.”

And that is precisely what Lebo did. Almost every wall in the 5-bedroom home is filled with cans from different countries, companies and time periods. Some rooms are even devoted to a particular country, the most notable of which is Germany—great beer comes from the Motherland, after all. And Lebo encourages visitors, but only if they can appreciate how much beer he had to consume to build his collection.

Personally, I’m surprised his liver made it this far. And for that, he deserves to be commended.

The Man is easy to find and, as you can see, keeps pretty busy. I wonder what he’ll be up to tomorrow…

Greatest Hits: Living Through ALS

As a tribute to my father—who passed away in 2008—I am re-posting this article from July 15, 2012. I hope you enjoy it, Dad.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS)—also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease—is a degenerative motor neuron disorder that generally affects the muscles, but later spreads into almost every system in the body. Those unfortunate enough to develop the disease experience “rapidly progressive weakness, muscle atrophy and fasciculations, muscle spasticity, difficulty speaking, difficulty swallowing and decline in breathing ability” (Wikipedia). And the mortality rate for ALS is 100%. There is no cure and the outlook is always grim.

I know this because my father passed away in 2008 from ALS.

Although I’ve come to accept the fact that he is gone, I often find myself wondering how someone like my father could develop such a horrible disease in the first place. And even though it isn’t genetic—he was the first in our family to suffer from ALS—I worry that eventually, I could be next. Of course, my father and I were almost polar opposites in many respects, so I am optimistic and feel confident something else will likely get me.

This fact doesn’t make me feel much better, though. After all, we’ll all die from something eventually and none of us can escape it.

What bothers me most about my father dying from ALS is the way he lived his life and the eventual irony of it all. You see, my father was an orthopedic surgeon who exercised all the time. In fact, some of the equipment at our local YMCA had been donated by my father and uncle, both of them surgeons and partners who endorsed exercise and physical activity at every turn. When my brother and I were young, my father forced us to accompany him to work out, hoping we would follow his example and start exercising more on our own someday. Granted, we both stayed active through sports and other pursuits, but pumping iron wasn’t really our focus. And he was hoping to change that.

For years, the three of us would visit the YMCA, work out to the point of exhaustion and then repeat the process several times each week. Dad even hired personal trainers to set us up with exercise routines tailored to our specific needs. Combined with his exercise tips, we learned everything we needed to know and worked hard to get in shape, at least in the beginning.

Unfortunately, my brother and I responded to being forced to exercise in very different ways. He continued long after we were free to choose for ourselves and still exercises regularly today. I went the opposite way, choosing to exercise indirectly through work or other activities like sports. Oddly enough, the same thing happened with church. Being forced to go anywhere didn’t really agree with me, but my brother could find all sorts of value in it and, as a result, is a more religious person than me. And in this respect, I was more like my father.

Diet and nutrition were also important factors in my father’s life. To this day, I have never seen anyone consume as much fruit as him, sometimes two or three different fruits in one sitting. As for drinking, he would occasionally have some Vermouth with dinner, or the rare glass of wine or cold beer, but generally abstained. Smoking was never his vice, either. Instead, he would lecture me for hours about its dangers once he discovered that I had taken up smoking cigarettes. And no matter what ailed me, he always claimed it was the result of my smoking.

My dad was also a man of adventure and always took us on trips full of excitement and thrill-seeking, as evidenced in my earlier post “Ketchum If You Can”. Over the years, we traveled all over the world to go white-water rafting, skiing, hiking and sightseeing. We ended up at one time or another in Colorado,Costa Rica, Hawaii, Argentina and dozens of other wonderful locales. And even when he was unable to accompany us, my father would still finance our trips to places like Brazil and the US Virgin Islands.

It was during a family trip to Costa Rica that I first noticed some of his physical limitations.

During most of our previous hikes, my father was front-and-center, leading us through the woods or jungles with a Devil-may-care attitude and almost unlimited energy. This trip into the rain forest was much different. Instead of maintaining his footing and trudging along, my dad would often slip or have to keep himself from falling down an embankment that normally would not have fazed him. My siblings and I expressed concern, but he always blamed it on being a little older or unfamiliar with the terrain. We had our doubts, though.

Later, I noticed that my father had started limping. When I asked what the problem was, he would simply qualify it as some minor nerve damage that would eventually correct itself. Only it never did. In fact, it started to get worse, but he insisted it was nothing. And since he was always the tough, macho man from South America, we never questioned it.

Then came the phone call that changed everything.

I was dining out in Raleigh with my fiancé and her family, walking back to the car after a delicious meal at the Macaroni Grill. The call from home seemed a little strange since I had spoken with my mother earlier, but I really started to worry when I heard my father’s voice instead. He was never much for phone calling and our conversations were always short and sweet.

This conversation was much different.

He told me he had been diagnosed with ALS almost a year before, but didn’t want us to worry so he kept it a secret during that time. Knowing next to nothing about the disease at the time, I asked about his prognosis and he told me he wasn’t sure, but things wouldn’t end well once the disease progressed. Of course, I was crushed and immediately thought the worst. He comforted me and assured me that he would be around for a long time. We both knew that wouldn’t be the case, but remaining optimistic seemed like the best approach at the time.

Over the next year, I watched helplessly as a man who was always strong, muscular and mentally sharp deteriorated into a mere shadow of the father I once knew. One by one, his muscular systems started to shut down and, towards the end, he even needed help using the bathroom. We bought him an electric wheelchair to allow him greater mobility, but he hated using it because he was so proud. About the only time he would ride it was when I brought my newborn son to visit. They only spent a year together, but my son still remembers cruising around the house with him.

The last time I saw my father, we talked about the life he helped me create for myself and the new family I had just formed, which brought him a great deal of pleasure. He just wanted to know that his own life had made a difference to someone else, which it certainly had. In fact, he had impacted nearly every person he came into contact with, including his family, friends and the hundreds of patients he served during his successful career in medicine. Everyone who knew him loved him. And I made sure he knew just how much I loved him, too.

The next morning, my mother called to tell me he had passed away in the middle of the night and that I should come over immediately to see him one last time. My sister had spent the night on the couch near his favorite chair in our living room. She woke up in the middle of the night and gave him a kiss before heading to bed. Little did she know, but that would be the last kiss he would ever receive.

I found my father lying in the same chair, only now he was perfectly still and cold. Grief took hold of us all as we wept beside his body, holding his hand or gently stroking his head. Then his body was removed and cremated, leaving me with only a small urn containing remains that were split between my mother, my siblings and me. Today, it sits on my mantle with his picture, a constant reminder of the man who spent his life for his family, and who made me the man I am today.

ALS is a terrible disease that affects roughly 30,000 people at any given time. And as I mentioned before, there is no known cure for it either, but there is hope. The ALS Association is working hard to find ways to treat and eventually cure this degenerative disease, and they are making progress. I encourage everyone to support their efforts because, believe me, you don’t want this to happen to you or someone you know and love.

And if you are living with ALS, please know that my thoughts and prayers are with you.

Another Scandal Rocks America

Remember when Scandal referred to an 80s band featuring Patty Smyth? (courtesy of The 80′s Man)

The past month has seen its share of scandals involving U.S. government agencies overstepping their bounds and doing bad, bad things.

First it was the Internal Revenue Service—everyone’s favorite—which targeted conservative groups that applied for tax-exempt status and scrutinized them more closely than anyone else. In fact, they developed something called the “Be On the Look Out” list, which set forth guidelines about which organizations to watch more closely.

Groups that referenced the phrase “Tea Party” raised an eyebrow, but so did anyone lobbying to “make America a better place to live.”

Yes, I can see how happiness and prosperity might seem suspicious. Many of us have gone without them for so long we wouldn’t even know the difference any more.

The second government agency making scandalous headlines these days is, of course, the National Security Agency.

NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden (courtesy of Entertainment Weekly)

Just over a week ago, American and former NSA contractor Edward Snowden leaked information about a secret electronic surveillance program known as PRISM to The Washington Post and The Guardian—a program that even monitored the phone records of American citizens in many cases. And ever since, he has been in hiding somewhere in Hong Kong, inspiring protests and praying that the Chinese government will protect him from U.S. retribution.

In most countries, two scandals in only a month’s time would be more than enough to keep the tabloid headlines running and to satisfy gossip mongers everywhere. But America is the land of upsizing and living large—and this week, we tossed one more into the proverbial ring—this word will seem more significant in a moment, I assure you.

The latest “bombshell” comes from an unlikely source: the NFL and New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft.

In 2005, Kraft was in Saint Petersburg, Russia and had an opportunity to meet the president whose last name sounds like an eruptive bodily function. During their encounter, Putin took a shine to one of the Super Bowl rings Kraft was wearing. He asked to hold it and Kraft obviously complied.

I mean, you don’t say no to the Russian president, right? Actually, maybe you do… or should.

After admiring the ring, putting it on his finger and saying something to the extent of “I could kill someone with this ring,” Putin put it in his pocket and eventually, it ended up being displayed in the Kremlin Library.

At the time, Kraft claimed that he gave the ring to Putin as a gift and released the following statement: “I decided to give him the ring as a symbol of the respect and admiration that I have for the Russian people and the leadership of President Putin.”

Putin snakes the ring from Kraft (courtesy of AP)

What a nice gesture. Giving away a Super Bowl ring in the interest of world peace? Truly remarkable.

Too bad that isn’t what really happened.

According to a recent report by the New York Post—which referenced a speech Kraft gave on Thursday at Carnegie Hall’s Medal of Excellence gala—he claimed his original story was false and that Putin actually stole his ring. And what’s worse, the U.S. government asked him to cover it up!

Here’s how it allegedly went down:

Kraft met Putin, who liked his ring. He asked to hold it and since no one denies Putin—not to be confused with pooting, which we have all denied at one time or another—Kraft handed it to him. Putin put it on, made the comment I mentioned earlier and slipped the ring into his pocket, even though Kraft was holding out his hand to retrieve his cherished bauble.

Before Kraft realized what happened, three KGB agents surrounded the Russian President and escorted him out of the room, Super Bowl ring and all.

Upon returning to the States, Kraft demanded his ring be returned and instead received a request from the White House, at that time being run by George W. Bush: “It would really be in the best interest of U.S.-Soviet relations if you meant to give the ring as a present.”

And that’s exactly what Kraft did. I guess you could call him a patriot who owns the Patriots, at least in terms of contributing to world diplomacy… one jewel-encrusted ring at a time.

I wonder what the next scandal will be.

Dog Days

Some canines beat the heat (courtesy of Photobucket)

The phrase dog days normally refer to the sweltering heat associated with the summer months of July and August, but an argument could be made for things starting a little earlier this year. Consider all the stories popping up about extreme heat in the news recently: a 69-year old man died in 110-degree heat while hiking near the Hoover Dam; a 15-month-old child was accidentally left in a car and perished before his mother realized what had happened; and dogs left in cars are, pardon the cliché, dropping like flies all over the country.

For the sake of this post, however, this last example is most relevant since my focus won’t be on extreme heat, but rather on our canine friends and how their recent exploits and experiences give new meaning to the dog days of summer.

And lest we forget that summer has just begun, so I’m sure there will be more dog-related stories to come. For now, though, here are some recent tales about our furry little friends that caught my eye.

We begin in Oklahoma, the site of that massive tornado last month that more-or-less leveled the town of Moore. It twisted along a 17-mile path, causing more than $2 billion in damages, injuring hundreds of people and ending the lives of 24 Americans, including children.

Fortunately, some children survived, among them a 5-year-old boy and his 2-year-old sister. While their parents worked to recover from the devastation, the kids stayed with 50-year-old Lynn Geiling, a family friend in nearby Jessieville.

A bull mastiff (courtesy of The Dog Ranch)

Last Sunday afternoon, the boy apparently got upset and threw a temper tantrum, which is understandable given all he had been through. Here he was living in a strange house, separated from his parents and having trouble dealing with all the trauma he experienced recently. Geiling did her best to comfort and console him, but nothing seemed to help. And before she knew it, his crying had upset someone else in the house: her dog.

Likely believing that his owner was being threatened or harmed in some way—and being somewhat unfamiliar with his new house mates—the 150-pound bull mastiff raced through the home, lunged at the boy and attacked. Geiling fought to pull the dog off of him, frantically called for her husband to help and managed to pry him loose, but it was too late.

Even though the boy was bleeding profusely from puncture wounds to his head and neck, he was still clinging to life when the ambulance arrived to rush him to the hospital. Sadly, there was nothing to be done and he was pronounced dead a short time later.

The bull mastiff that mauled this poor child was immediately shot and killed by a neighbor, and there’s no word yet whether Geiling or her husband will face charges for this deadly attack. Of course, the most heartbreaking thing about it all—aside from the death of a child, which is always terrible—is that a huge, record-breaking tornado couldn’t kill this young boy; it took a dog protecting its owner to do that. And sadly, they both ended up paying the ultimate price.

Talk about adding insult to injury. My heart truly goes out to the parents who returned from their tornado clean-up over 200 miles away to find they had lost something even more precious than their home and belongings. It has to be devastating.

I wish my next dog-related story was more uplifting, but sadly this isn’t the case. It happened in Youngstown, Pennsylvania near Pittsburgh last week and again resulted in the death of one of Man’s best friends. Only this time the animal doing the attacking wasn’t a canine; it was a human.

Crystal Snyder lives in a rural area and often hears guns being fired near her home. This is par-for-the-course in places where hunting, target shooting and other NRA-approved past times are popular. So when Snyder heard gunshots while taking a shower recently, she thought nothing of it.

Her Husky was killed and her Red Heeler barely survived (courtesy of Crystal Snyder)

Of course, that all changed once she finished up, went outside and noticed that both of her dogs—a Red Heeler and a Husky—had accidentally gotten out. And when she found one of her dogs injured and bleeding—and the other lying dead on the ground nearby—Snyder knew exactly what happened: her neighbor shot them.

The police were called and spoke with the neighbor, who of course claimed the dogs had attacked him and that he fired his shotgun in self-defense. Unfortunately, no charges were filed since there were no witnesses, which means no one could prove or disprove his story. That doesn’t make Snyder or her family feel any better, though. And now they even fear for their own safety, given the trigger-happy nut that lives next door.

What a sad state of affairs, but it gets worse and, in the case of this next story, even slightly surreal.

Roger Brown is a diabetic who lives in the small town of Brazil, Indiana. Recently, he was suffering from a foot infection, taking medicine for it and sleeping a little more than usual.

Next time, try puppies, not pit bulls (courtesy of Pin It)

On Wednesday morning, Brown awoke to find his dog—a pit bull—licking his toes. He thought nothing of it until he made a startling discovery: two of his toes were missing!

Apparently, the foot infection and medication prevented Brown from feeling any pain, so he had no clue his devoted pet was actually gnawing off his big toe and small toe while he slept. Medics arrived on the scene, wrapped his foot and transported him by helicopter to IU Health Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis. Unfortunately, his toes could not be saved.

The good news is that of all the stories I’ve mentioned here today, this one comes with a tiny silver lining. Since the dog was a family pet, Brazil police did not report this as an animal attack, which means Brown can keep his dog. Of course, he should also consider sleeping in steel-toed boots from now on, but I’m sure this has already occurred to him.

We call dogs Man’s best friends for a reason. They are among the most loyal and loving animals on the planet, but they can also be some of the most violent, especially where so-called “bully breeds” are concerned. Does this mean all dogs are bad? Of course not. Even pit bulls and other aggressive breeds are, in my opinion, largely products of the way humans raise and train them. So when attacks like the ones mentioned here make headlines, I always find myself asking the same basic question.

Is it really the dog’s fault?

Pop-Up Post: Tripping and Pitching

This isn’t the kind of “pop-up” I mean! (courtesy of Funny or Die)

Welcome to the first installment of the Pop-Up Post!

As I have mentioned in a number of earlier articles—most recently in my April post entitled “A Blog a Day“—finding something interesting to write about can be pretty challenging, especially when your goal is to produce at least one article a day. And once you find a decent topic, you then have to actually write about it, which can also pose some problems.

Let’s just say that Writer’s Block also affects bloggers since, as we all know, bloggers are writers, too. Granted, they don’t always get the respect they deserve, but I for one feel they have earned it. Writing is writing, after all.

Which brings me back to the Pop-Up Post.

Have you ever been sitting around—perhaps reading or watching television—and had a unique, original or interesting thought cross your mind? Maybe even a reaction to something that might be worth sharing if it were slightly more developed?

Me, too!

Inspiration for writing can be hard to find (courtesy of Fantasy Faction)

Well, the Pop-Up Post functions as a vehicle by which to deliver this information to readers without having to fully commit to an entire article. At first, this may seem kind of lazy, but for a daily blogger like me, it instead becomes another weapon in my writing arsenal. A very useful weapon, actually, since it requires very little forethought and focuses instead on raw, unadulterated creativity.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I am all about: being creative while also sharing my perspective on the world around me.

In the future, Pop-Up Posts will be much shorter since I won’t have to explain their purpose every time. Some may look like regular articles while others may seem like blurbs—it all depends on the topic at hand and the passion I feel about it once I sit down to write. Of course, Pop-Up Posts may also be generated through my iPhone, so some may be only a few lines in length. As I said, it all depends and, frankly, I like the idea of having no preconceptions about how this will work. All that would do is cause more pressure and, to me, Pop-Up Posts are about alleviating the pressure to produce lengthy posts each day.

So here we are at Pop-Up Post number one, the maiden voyage for this idea of mine. And the subject of this post is one I rarely (if ever) consider: Major League Baseball.

I’ve always been more of a football guy.

Anyway, I was wandering through cyberspace the other day and came across an interesting YouTube video about an even more interesting former player from the 1960′s and 70′s: Dock Ellis.

Ellis was a pitcher for a number of major league teams, including the Pittsburgh Pirates, New York Yankees, Texas Rangers, Oakland Athletics and New York Mets. And he played during a time most people consider to be the Golden Age of Baseball—long before all the controversies about corking bats, taking steroids, betting on games you play in, visiting clinics like Biogenesis for Human Growth Hormone (HGH) treatments and all the other crap that has crept into the game over the last twenty or thirty years.

Sure, some of these things still happened—and substances were still abused—but you just didn’t hear about them as often. And since there were no cell phones or Internet back then, players’ activities weren’t immediately broadcast to the entire world or splashed across newspaper headlines everywhere.

They showed up for practice, worked out, played their games and went home. At least many of them did, including Dock Ellis. Of course, he had some hobbies that would cause tons of controversy today, but instead make him an even more colorful character in baseball.

Which brings me to the video I found recently.

Dock Ellis in the early days (courtesy of Louis Requena/MLB Photos via Getty Images)

On June 12, 1970—a decade before Pete Rose’s betting scandal and several decades before substances like steroids would be banned from the sport—Ellis pitched a no-hitter when the Pirates played the San Diego Padres. At first, this may seem like nothing more than a nice accomplishment for a pitcher, but when you consider the condition Ellis was in at the time, it becomes much more significant.

He was tripping on LSD. Yes, the same LSD that led Timothy Leary to suggest young people “turn on, tune in and drop out;” introduced the world to the Grateful Dead, who provided music during the infamous Electric Kool-Aid Acid Tests; and freaked out hippies at Woodstock when they ingested tainted brown acid.

How Ellis was able to function during this game—let alone pitch a no-hitter—is beyond me. And honestly, I’m not even sure he knows how he did it. Check out his account of that trippy day:

“I can only remember bits and pieces of the game.  I was psyched. I had a feeling of euphoria. I was zeroed in on the [catcher's] glove, but I didn’t hit the glove too much. I remember hitting a couple of batters, and the bases were loaded two or three times. The ball was small sometimes, the ball was large sometimes, sometimes I saw the catcher, sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes, I tried to stare the hitter down and throw while I was looking at him. I chewed my gum until it turned to powder. I started having a crazy idea in the fourth inning that Richard Nixon was the home plate umpire, and once I thought I was pitching a baseball to Jimi Hendrix, who to me was holding a guitar and swinging it over the plate. They say I had about three to four fielding chances. I remember diving out of the way of a ball I thought was a line drive. I jumped, but the ball wasn’t hit hard and never reached me.”

What a trip that must have been for Dock! (courtesy of sergioleoneifr.blogspot.com)

Freaky, huh?

Even freakier—and funnier—is the animated video about that day produced by No Mas and artist James Blagden. Since this Pop-Up Post is supposed to be much shorter, I will end with this hilarious video as well as a brief public service message.

You can find the video HERE, but please consider it primarily as a cautionary tale. LSD and other drugs have no place in athletics—and I sincerely hope none of you would combine the two—but I can’t deny the fact that the story of Dock Ellis tripping and pitching is about as funny as they come.

I hope you enjoy it and will see you for the next installment of the Pop-Up Post!

The Naked Truth

Nudity would be easy if I looked like this! (courtesy of NSFW)

Some people have no problem being naked. To them, it’s as natural as the day they were born and obviously, they’re right. We all started the same way—with tiny penises and vaginas swinging in the wind, not to mention asses being slapped by total strangers.

Actually, there are adults who still enjoy that last part, but that’s a story for another time.

I have always been fascinated by the naked-and-I-could-care-less crowd, especially since I belong to a different group: the dim-the-lights-and-keep-moving people who may not consider themselves ugly, per se, but who know they aren’t what most would call sexy.

Multiply this effect by ten for men, though. We have too much hair and outdoor plumbing to qualify as beautiful, at least many of us do. Pretty boys, male models, metrosexuals and other “attractive” guys obviously don’t count, but it isn’t their fault. We can’t all be beautiful, right? Imagine the inferiority complexes and depression that would result from the world’s population collectively realizing they were no better looking than anyone else.

Personally, I could never live in that kind of world. Variety is, after all, the spice of life, and we need average and ugly folks as much as we need the beautiful ones.

And please note that I use the word ugly with some apprehension since there is something beautiful about all of us. The wrapping paper may not be pretty, but the gift inside could be, wouldn’t you agree?

Anyway, I started thinking about nudity the other day and eventually found myself looking at websites for very specific businesses: nudist resorts. I know it may be hard to believe, but it wasn’t the actual nudity that piqued my curiosity; it was the fact that some people like being naked so much that they choose to live this way all the time.

I can relate to this poor bastard more (courtesy of visualphotos.com)

I’m sorry, but one bad experience with splattering bacon grease and my days as a nudist would end rather abruptly. I promise you that. Of course, nudists must have found a solution to this problem—maybe something as simple as a clear apron (so the nudity still comes through)—but there’s something else that prevents me from experimenting with nudism (i.e. actually visiting one of these resorts and letting it all hang out)… something my shame, flabbiness, “dangling modifiers” and fear of penile grease burns can’t touch. Anytime I think about nudism or actually putting myself out there, a tiny voice in my head asks the same basic question: What if you get aroused and embarrass yourself?

I actually cleaned the question up a bit because in reality, it’s more like What if you pop a boner and someone sees you? Since the word boner may be unfamiliar to younger readers—and I have no idea what the acceptable alternative is these days—some gentle rephrasing seemed necessary.

I know what you’re thinking. Go to any of these sites, look at some pictures and you’ll notice one common theme: most of the people who frequent these places are not—and will never be—supermodels. They’re older, flabbier, hairier, scarier and, frankly, could give a shit less. And you know why?

Because it makes them happy. And I, for one, say, “Go for it!” Nudism may not be my bag, baby, but if it works for you, why not? I still find it fascinating.

With curiosity still nagging at me, I continued my online exploration and looked for evidence of nudity in the news—actually, that’s not a bad title for an ongoing post, so stay tuned, dear readers!

As you might expect, there was plenty of naked news to be had online. Only instead of peaceful nudists playing volleyball and singing around a campfire, the unclothed people making headlines were—for the most part—also making poor, maybe even fatal decisions. Sure, there were some bright spots here and there—and I pride myself on finding a balance between the depressing and the uplifting when I can—but sometimes darkness cannot be avoided. Of course, I leave the final judgment to you and instead offer my take on clothing-less current events and nudity in the news.

Welcome, my friends, to THE NAKED TRUTH.

Someone had to notice a pretty girl like Maureen Kelly walking naked through the woods (courtesy of Q13-FOX)

The skin begins in Washington State, more specifically at the Canyon Creek Campground in Skamania County’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest, northeast of Portland. It was there that 19-year-old Maureen Kelly of Vancouver chose to visit this past weekend. And it was from there that she vanished late Sunday afternoon.

When Kelly left the campsite, she was wearing nothing more than a fanny pack, the contents of which may have included a small knife and compass. In other words, she was nude-with-tools and little else. And according to someone who saw her before she disappeared into the woods, Kelly was embarking on some kind of “spiritual quest.”

It must be a doozy because as of yesterday afternoon—when the search for the missing “nudist” was suspended—authorities had nothing.

“Twelve teams searched the area again today and were unable to locate Ms. Kelly,” Sheriff Dave Brown said on Tuesday. “They found nothing that is related to this search and rescue mission.”

The good news is that Kelly’s brother described her as being “comfortable and capable” in the outdoors. Sure, some clothes would help protect her from the elements, but at least she has some skills that could help keep her alive, right?

Of course, a lot of people (myself included) hope this story will come with a happy ending rather than a tragic one. And despite having little to go on, Sheriff Brown remains optimistic, albeit ready to take the next step if it becomes necessary later.

“We will have deputies continue to check the area for the next couple days,” the determined lawman explained. “And at that time we will reevaluate our options… if Ms. Kelly does not return from her spiritual quest.”

Here’s hoping she returns with a renewed spirit instead of becoming one!

And now for something completely different.

They say everything is big in Texas. What they don’t tell you is that this also applies to crimes committed by people “in the buff”… people like 56-year-old Robert Fife of Pasadena, Texas.

For some as-yet-undetermined reason, Fife was arrested at his home on Johnson Street not for being naked—which he totally was—but for being naked and shooting arrows at neighbors from his window. Police were called, found Fife locked in his home and eventually coaxed him out, but no one knows for sure what prompted this unflattering attack. All they do know is that Fife is safely behind bars and now faces charges of deadly conduct.

Robert Fife of Pasadena, Texas: The Nude Robin Hood (courtesy of News 92 FM Houston)

And at long last, he has some pants on. It may not be much, but at least it’s a start, right?

Fife is what you might call “bad naked”—especially since he mixed nudity with violence, which is only a good idea if two women and a mud or Jell-O pit are involved—but there is plenty of “good naked” out there. And from time to time, this goodness involves social change and activism, as it does in these next two examples. The first comes from London and American Jesse Schust, who organizes an annual bicycle ride there… a nude bicycle ride.

The World Naked Bike Ride began in Barcelona in 2004 and has since spawned rides in over 50 cities and across several continents. Although it began innocently enough—basically as an excuse for people to disrobe in public and cruise around together (if everyone’s doing it then it won’t be as embarrassing, I guess)—the 41-year-old organizer of the London event sees it as something more: an opportunity to express himself as he exposes himself, only with a cause.

Schust strips in protest of “car culture, climate change and our dependency on oil.” And he finds nudity to be a very effective delivery mechanism for his message, too—especially a nude bike ride.

“People look on with a sense of joy and amazement,” the never-shy Schust said. “Using humor and celebration as an approach in protest was a whole new thing for me.”

Riding nude in London (courtesy of Wikipedia Commons)

Of course, Schust does have advice for anyone who participates in a bike ride with no clothing: “Cover the seat or at the end of the ride use a hand wipe to clean it—just as a courtesy.”

Words to live by, I think.

A second example of good nudity with a focus on activism comes from Tunisia, where three women from the group Femen—basically a movement that started in the Ukraine in 2008 to protest sexism in the region—appeared in court after being arrested for public nudity. Actually, they weren’t completely nude, only topless.

The boob flashing was part of a protest over Amina Sboui Tyler, a 19-year-old member of Femen who was detained in March for posting topless photos of herself online. The official charge, however, was carrying an incendiary device. And on Tuesday, Tyler was convicted and fined $182. Unfortunately, more charges are pending and for the time being, Tyler will remain in custody. But there is a small “silver lining.”

Topless Tunisian protesters are the best (courtesy of AFP)

The topless friends who protested have also been detained. They are set to appear in court Friday and may be charged at that time, but for now at least Tyler has some company. And if you ask me, topless company is some of the best company you can have!

Our final stories shift the “nude focus” away from activism and into the realms of stupidity, criminality and perversion. Since these are areas that have been associated with nudity in the past, though, they should certainly come as no surprise.

The first story comes from Casselberry, Florida and involves 22-year-old Thomas Edwards, a young man determined to propose to his girlfriend. Before doing so, he told his lover about his plan and she indicated where the proposal should occur: at her home, for which she provided an address.

Edwards arrived at the home on Friday, went inside and started to disrobe on the patio “because that is something that people do.” He’s right, you know. People propose naked all the time. Not!

Edwards’ nude proposal failed (courtesy of the Casselberry PD)

At any rate, the homeowners arrived a short time later—none of whom were Edwards’ girlfriend—and found a naked black man waiting for them. Needless to say, they immediately phoned the police, who came shortly thereafter to collect the intruder in the buff. Instead of going quietly, though, Edwards took a different approach: he started to spit at the officers. And what did he get in return, you ask? Exactly what you might expect: a jolt of electricity from one of the officer’s stun guns and a trip to jail.

Of course, I still haven’t heard what his girlfriend had to say about all this. Since she apparently gave him a fake address, though, I can’t imagine her response to Edwards “popping the question” would have been a favorable one. Is it possible that nude proposing is not something that people do?

Speaking of things that people do—and definitely shouldn’t—consider the story of George Boak, a 70-year-old spiritual healer from Halifax in West Yorkshire, England.

On Tuesday, Boak was charged with sexually abusing two women—and may eventually be charged for assaulting a third—and appeared in court, where he obviously denied the charges. Unfortunately, the evidence continues to mount against him and though his trial continues, the outcome will undoubtedly be bad, at least from his perspective.

According to several women who went to Boak for “treatment”—I use quotation marks since I equate spiritual healing with scamming (no offense, of course)—he asked them to disrobe since his practice involves hovering his hands over parts of their bodies and touching them from time to time, but never in an inappropriate way. Being naked simply allowed all his “positive vibes” to pass through unhindered, or so the women were told.

Boak claims he “got carried away” (courtesy of Rossparry/ Chris Fairweather)

What they experienced, however, was much, much different.

In the first case, Boak seemed to be helping his patient’s aching back, but would constantly refer to her as “beautiful” or “stunning,” which obviously made her very uncomfortable. She stopped seeing Boak for a time but returned later when her pain worsened. During this visit, however, the spiritual healer went even further, kissing her, touching her and even putting his hands inside her clothing. She reported the incident to police and Boak was arrested, but he denied the allegations and likely would have gotten away if the investigation didn’t uncover a damning piece of evidence: his diary.

Using the information within the diary, officers contacted several of Boak’s former clients and a second complaint soon emerged. It came from a woman who initially visited the spiritual healer with her husband. When Boak asked her to disrobe for her treatment, she thought nothing of it since her husband was present and, based on this one visit, found Boak to be very professional and never inappropriate. In fact, this is what convinced her to return to him again, only this time on her own. And that, of course, is when things took a turn for the worst.

During this particular visit, Boak started touching her inappropriately and even apologized when she asked what he was doing: “Sorry, I got carried away.” For whatever reason, the woman left Boak’s office, told her husband about the incident and then never reported it to police. In her view, this whole thing resulted from her being too “gullible,” even though it’s hard for me to understand why she felt this way. If you ask me, being gullible is what led her to believe that spiritual healing would work at all, but that’s not important. What is important is that when confronted with these allegations, Boak claimed the woman wanted it and said something like “give it to me, George.” As if.

A third complaint was filed recently when a woman read Boak’s story in her local paper. According to her account, Boak treated her as he said he would, but also slipped his hands down the front of her pants to grope her.

Now that I think about it, there is a chance Boak could be cleared of these charges. After all, he could have been spiritually healing these women’s private parts. And since healing hands were being placed on their bodies anyway—with their consent, mind you—Boak may have found the loophole he needs to escape prosecution… as opposed to the holes he fondled that got him into this mess in the first place!

Crude, I know, but that doesn’t make it any less valid.

What’s wrong with this picture? (courtesy of Pretty 4 Ever)

Our final glimpse at the naked truth brings us full circle and back to the place where Maureen Kelly could still be wandering through the woods with only a fanny pack on: Washington State. Only this time we visit Tacoma Community College (TCC) and Kevin Gausepohl, a vocal instructor accused of taking advantage of a 17-year-old student.

According to the young woman—who was a high school student trying to earn college credit at the time—Gausepohl claimed to be studying the effects of sexual arousal on vocal range and asked her to play the piano naked while touching herself. For some reason, she agreed and this occurred at numerous sessions they had together. In fact, Gausepohl “kicked it up a notch” during one particular session and joined in on the festivities: he started masturbating in front of her.

Gausepohl’s sexual misconduct came to light after several students expressed concern over the young woman’s treatment, which they felt exploited her sexually. The college investigated and concluded that at the very least, the vocal instructor violated the school’s sexual harassment policy. They immediately terminated his employment and since he stayed clean for a year—in line with a deal from criminal prosecutors—charges against him were not pursued. And to this day, Gausepohl maintains his innocence, even though I suspect otherwise.

Did I mention that Gausepohl is also a religious leader at Blaine Memorial United Methodist Church? Perhaps he and George Boak—the “spiritual advisor” from England with a penchant for fondling clients—should start a business together. Spiritual healing, vocal coaching, nudity and sexual mischief all under one roof? Sounds like the Wal-Mart of perversion to me.

At long last we come to the end of THE NAKED TRUTH, proof that nudity is alive and well in this world and even finds its way into the headlines from time to time. Of course, my advice to all of you is this: if you choose to be nude, please do so in the appropriate places and under the right circumstances. Bathing, getting freaky with your lover, skinny dipping in your neighbor’s pool, dropping your drawers at one of the nudist resorts I mentioned earlier… all of these are fine as long as you don’t harm anyone—aside from revealing your naked body to them, I mean (which I know would hurt people in my case)—or abuse anyone. When in doubt, though, consider following the same advice that I follow when the need to disrobe strikes me at the wrong time.

Keep your pants on… at least until it’s really time to take them off.

Ochocinco No-No

Ochocinco used to be the man to beat, not the man to beat women (courtesy of the NFL)

There was a time when Chad “Ochocinco” Johnson was one of the premier wide receivers in the NFL. This one-time Cincinnati Bengal and six-time Pro Bowl selection played professionally through the 2011 season and was preparing to join the Miami Dolphins in 2012 when his situation suddenly changed.

Johnson was arrested for domestic battery and pleaded no contest to charges that he head-butted his wife—reality star Evelyn Lozada—during an argument in their Davie, Florida home last August. Needless to say, his marriage ended after only 11 months. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Miami immediately dropped him and for all intents and purposes, ended his professional football career. It should come as no surprise that teams weren’t beating the door down to sign him after (a) he was charged with this crime and (b) his reputation as a loud mouth preceded him.

And based on what happened recently, Johnson will be lucky if he ever plays again, at least on a professional level. Dancing with the Stars may still be an option, though.

Johnson’s reaction to the news (courtesy of Evan Rosenberg/Twitter)

Despite Judge Kathleen McHugh withholding adjudication for Johnson after his battery charge—which basically meant his record would remain clear as long as he stayed out of trouble—an arrest warrant was issued on May 7 after she learned he had not reported to his probation officer for three months. Johnson was forced to spend several hours in jail and had to post $1000 bond to remain free until yesterday’s hearing.

Unfortunately, that’s when things got even worse for him.

Johnson and his attorneys worked out a plea deal that would prevent the shamed player from spending any more time in jail. Seconds away from having it approved by Judge McHugh, though, Johnson’s behavior again got him into trouble.

McHugh complimented Johnson’s lawyer and in true football fashion, Johnson congratulated him with a pat on the butt. This angered McHugh, who immediately “called him out” on it.

“Mr. Johnson, I don’t know that you’re taking this whole thing seriously,” she told him. “I’m not going to accept these plea negotiations. This isn’t a joke.”

Johnson tried in vain to apologize, but there was no changing the judge’s mind. He had no choice but to plead guilty to violating his probation without a deal, which means he will spend the next month in jail and will have his probation extended for another three months (from September 21 to December 21).

In addition to these penalties, Johnson must also complete 25 hours of community service and attend two counseling sessions each week. After hearing his punishment, Johnson was handcuffed and taken into custody.  His 30-day stint in the Broward County Jail is scheduled to begin immediately.

I suppose it is possible for Johnson to someday return to the NFL, although I can think of no team willing to waste time or money on a 35-year-old “problem child” whose football skills were waning before he even got into legal trouble. If anything, his NFL future will exist behind a desk as a commentator, if he can even get that job after all this nonsense.

Chad’s next number will be his prisoner number! (courtesy of the Black Youth Project)

It is heartbreaking when a great player leaves the field due to injury, military deployment or some other legitimate reason. But when the reason is the player himself—especially a player who could have accomplished so much—it becomes something more: a waste.

Chad Johnson could have been great and could have served as an inspiration for kids, fans and players everywhere. Instead, he will be remembered as yet another “superstar” whose criminal behavior undermined the very things he spent his life cultivating: athletic skill and nearly unlimited potential.

I hope thirty days behind bars will be enough to put Ochocinco back on the right path. Only time will tell, though…