The Unnecessary Defense Evidence Apparently Included Breshears’ Threat to Scratch His Eyes Out ?
Houston Police Chief C.O. Bradford may be a lot of things, even a mediocre police chief, but being insensitive to the feelings of an assistant chief was probably not a charge he expected. Accused of using, gosh, really, really rough language when talking to a police veteran of Lord knows how many years, the chief was acquitted in a case that never truly got underway. Judge Brian Rains listened to the prosecution’s argument against Bradford, which was basically that the chief called Assistant Chief J. L. Breshears a ?m??r f??r,? and then equivocated about the actual word. The judge then said, in effect, “You’re kidding. Case dismissed.” The incredibly anal prosecutor in this affair, Assistant District Attorney Don Smyth, said he thought he had a real case here and another judge might have ruled differently. He also said he had further evidence to indicate that Bradford is, evidently, a real mean boss who’s, like, really strict. When we hold a group of battle-hardened cops to a standard of decorum roughly equivalent to a Mary Kay meeting, then it is obviously time to consider serving brie at Camp LeJeune.
Men are From Mars; Women are From – Well – Mogadishu, Apparently –
OK, Honey, I get the message. When I read headlines about Clara Harris making hubby tortillas with a two-ton piece of German ironmongery and Susan Wright deciding that the old man looked better tied to a bed with nearly 200 stab wounds to his nether regions, then I get the drift. And these events have moved me to resolve, whatever it costs, to go that extra mile on our anniversary.
“Bring Your Seat Backs to Their Full and Upright Position –
Your Seat Backs, Sir!”
I have done a lot of flying in over 32 years of journalism including three trips to the Middle East, two to Germany when it got back together, several to Mexico, Ireland, France and the United Kingdom, and in all that time, there were maybe 5 percent or so of my fellow travelers that I yearned to see naked. That’s why, when I read of the naked flights to Cancun being offered by something called Castaways Travel in Spring, I was moved to rise from my easy chair and shout to the astonishment of my wife and daughter, “Houston will never clasp this concept to its bosom!” OK, that’s a bit baroque, but let’s face it, the idea of seeing that 350-pound guy in seat 5C who’s spilling over into 5B in the altogether is enough to make you want to bathe clothed for the rest of your life. That anorexic chick in seat 27D is rough enough in her baggy sweater; but naked – I’m ready to take the vows. Can we be candid here, folks? Unless you have a planeload of Fabios and Carmen Electras, then this idea is a non-starter, unless you suffer from some sort of sexual addiction and are looking for the cure. The FAA says there are no regulations prohibiting this sort of thing, but frankly, I’m writing Kay Bailey Hutchison to propose some.
Of Course the Highland Park Branch Has a Dining Car ?
The Main Street rail line has been making life rough for businesses of late, and that is regrettable. But despite the nonstop rant of those who somehow see traffic jams as a symbol of good old free enterprise and mass transit as some sort of Chicom plot, let me point out that Dallas (yes, that pompous blight on the otherwise lovely north Texas region) has just stretched the DART system to Garland. Trains will run every 10 minutes, and each day it is estimated that 2,000 people and their cars will be off the roads to that Dallas suburb named for a Christmas tree decoration. And that is by the end of 2003. This is what Houston has in store, and, unless you agree with one moron I used to work with that thought we have more to fear from trees than from the tailpipe of an Explorer, this is a good thing. Be patient. Houston will have world-class transportation one day. World-class opinion makers may take awhile.