RECENT COLUMNS
- Drug Data, Courtroom Drama and an Offer He Could Refuse
- Hoofing It, Abnormal Encounters and a Pug By Any Other Name
- Unearned Accolades, Off-Season Choices and Too Much Violence for Boxing
- Supportive Spouses, Blame the Beef and Executive-Branch Escapades
Debating whether “The Big Miss,” an upcoming Tiger Woods tell-all penned by his former swing coach, will detail the golf superstar’s inability to keep his putts straight. In unrelated news…
Does anyone else appreciate the irony of a football team called “the Saints” running a bounty program in which devastating and potentially injurious hits to opposing players were rewarded with cash payouts? In unrelated news…
Here’s hoping former NBA star Allen Iverson can catch on with a pro basketball club soon before his bank account is drained of another $860,000 to pay off another outstanding jewelry debt. Maybe try a team in Antwerp? In unrelated news…
Here’s wishing Ricky Williams well as the newly retired NFL star embarks on the next phase of his life: World’s most sought-after yoga instructor. In unrelated news…
For the record, I’m absolutely boycotting HBO if it doesn’t get Tim Tebow and the New York Jets to appear on the next installment of its “Hard Knocks” reality series. In unrelated news…
The city of Los Angeles is still buzzing over the recent announcement that an investment group featuring Magic Johnson has purchased the Dodgers.
There’s real optimism that the man with the million-dollar smile and a statue outside Staples Center can help lure top-name free agents while bringing fans back to Chavez Ravine.
(I also think charging less than $38 for a Dodger dog would be an equally welcomed gesture, but I digress.)
That said, there’s another potential hitch that local baseball enthusiasts seem to have overlooked: Magic Johnson isn’t actually suiting up; he can’t throw a curveball; and he sure as heck can’t hit a fastball.
Although, judging by his ever-expanding waistline, the Magic Man clearly doesn’t hesitate to hit a buffet line.
Fascinating details are beginning to emerge about the late terrorist leader Osama bin Laden during his decade-long flight from justice. The information is being extracted from his youngest widow, Amal Ahmed Abdul Fateh, who told Pakistani investigators that the pair were married sometime around 2000-2001.
According to Fateh, she and bin Laden moved to and from several safe houses throughout Pakistan, finally settling in Abbottabad in 2005. They lived a fairly quiet existence, she said, until several uninvited guests from the U.S. military made a mess of the place in May 2011.
Fateh, who bore three children to the onetime heavyweight champion of Islamist extremism, also gave some intriguing insight into bin Laden’s daily routine. Following is a rough account of his schedule:
7:30 a.m. – Wake up to Howard 100 on Sirius satellite radio (huge Stern fan)
8 a.m. – Breakfast with wives, kids
9:15 a.m. – Logon to Facebook, update status to ‘Still Alive’
9:30 a.m. – More Facebook: ‘friend’ new al Qaeda associates, advance 2-3 levels on Farmville
10:20 a.m. – Break for tea
11:30 a.m. – Solicit new business contacts via LinkedIn
12:30 p.m. – Lunch with co-workers
1:30-3 p.m. – Nap
3:15 p.m. – Grab Snickers and Mountain Dew at neighborhood 7-Eleven; chat up store clerks, customers
4:30 p.m. – Call in to Karachi’s No. 1 afternoon drive-time radio show as recurring character, “Awesome Ahmed”
5:10 p.m. – Post funny video of pet scorpion biting Hamid to YouTube
6:30 p.m. – Dinner with wives, kids
8:00 p.m. – Read and comment on articles from favorite Website,
Huffington Post 9:00 p.m. – Curl up on couch, channel-surf between “Desperate Housewives,” “America’s Next Top Model” and “Dog the Bounty Hunter”
10 p.m. – Bedtime: brush teeth, floss, set alarm to “snooze,” fall asleep to MSNBC
You really have to hand it to these politicians. Some of the most persistent buggers I’ve ever seen.
Case in point: Some years ago I must have purchased something / commented on something / entered an e-mail address somewhere that added me to the distribution list for a perennial presidential candidate.
Aside from a barrage of messages every four years or so, it hasn’t much affected me one way or the other.
But apparently my adopted candidate is convinced there’s a political contribution burning a hole in my pocket. Why else would he authorize sending the following e-mail, which appeared in my inbox just four days after his previous one — a five-page diatribe swearing to the legitimacy of his campaign while containing 11 separate appeals for cash:
Dear Daniel,
(Candidate X) is concerned he didn’t hear from you and asked me to forward you his e-mail again.
In Liberty,
Elizabeth N So, naturally, I wrote back:
Dear Elizabeth,
Tell (Candidate X) that he needn’t worry about my level of commitment. I support the mission!
However, in light of (Candidate X’s) recent pasting on Super Tuesday, I feel compelled to add that perhaps if (Candidate X) spent less time hitting up minimum-wage earners like myself for $25, and more time, you know, actually winning primaries, he may find it easier to gather support.
Onward and upward,
Daniel
The e-mails have slowed considerably since.