The Monks Word & More... » Moron of the Week

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 16:55:16 +0000

Almost certainly, this week’s unnamed honoree is going to wind up on next year’s Darwin Award list, being the architect of his own demise. Seems a 30 year old guy from London’s West End was arguing with a female friend, around 2:00 a.m., when the argument turned violent. So violent, in fact, that Mr. Mental Minimalist hurled the woman against the window of a Banana Republic. But, that in and of itself wouldn’t have landed him here. No, this bozo not only slammed the woman against the glass twice, he had to give it a third go. And as you all know, the third time’s always the charm…

The third bodyslam, of course, was the one which sent the woman hurtling through the window, suffering multiple cuts. She, however, got off easy. The He in this case, however, in an instance of poetic justice (and instant karma), did not fare so well. This loser, who thought nothing improper of beating a woman in public, didn’t *quite* go through the window after his companion, but instead toppled onto the glass and impaled himself on a particularly nasty shard. He died at the scene. Witnesses gave police who responded a pretty clear rundown of the events, meaning, the glasshole in question either didn’t care that people were there watching, or didn’t pay enough attention to his surroundings to know they were there. Hmnnn…anybody besides myself sniffing the potential involvement of alcohol surrounding this one?

The good thing is, it’s a happy ending. Besides some cuts, the woman’s all right, and now has the opportunity to better her compliment of companions. And Schmucko, of course, winds up taking the dirt nap. Which for us, is no big deal. After all, this isn’t the first time we’ve saluted a Moron of the Week posthumously…and it certainly won’t be the last.

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 18:59:13 +0000

With football season once again upon us, what better way to kick things off (so to speak) than to find an NFL numbskull for the Moron of the Week dishonors? This week, new Buffalo Bills wideout Terrell (Team Cancer) Owens managed not only to put himself in the media crosshairs by being part of the annual Hall of Fame game on Sunday night, but because of his peculiar notions about TV of a different sort. Namely, his (sur)reality TV show, and it’s minuscule viewership.

The show’s poor ratings came to light after John Ourand (SportsBusiness Journal) reported that the widely-publicized debut of The T.O. Show wound up at No. 798 in the cable television ratings for the week. That tied it with a 5:00 a.m. rerun of an old episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Not exactly an auspicious beginning. However, when T.O.’s reality show was panned by Jim Rome, Owens went out of his way to Tweet about how Rome is only hating on his show because he (Owens) won’t appear on Rome is Burning. Odd, seems to me Rome’s show gets decent enough ratings and a parade of guests coming through, from current stars to retired Hall of Famers to other well-known sports luminaries. Why would Rome lie in wait to sandbag Owens for not coming on his show, when the ratings themselves are the issue, and the ratings, frankly, suck.

But it gets better. When Ourand posted a follow-up via Twitter on the T.O. Show, it revealed that the second episode saw a ratings *drop,*tieing it for 862nd place, with a 3:30 a.m. airing of Brandy and Mr. Whiskers narrowly beating it out for the coveted 861st slot.

Owens’ explanation for the program’s poor showing? “those ratings r misleading, it’s based on a special box tht calculates those ratings n which every household doesn’t have.” (via Twitter.)

Huh? So because not every household has the ‘special box (i.e. a Nielsen ratings tracking box) the T.O. Show is somehow doing better than it looks on paper? Guess T.O. doesn’t understand that the Nielsen ‘special box’ is used in enough homes to statistically determine a reliable number of viewers. How does T.O. think the ‘special boxes’ are negatively representing him? Does he really think that he’s much better represented in the households without the ‘special boxes’? Is that what he’s claiming? That Neilsen families aren’t representative of viewing patterns (despite the Neilsen’s being almost universally accepted)? Let me get this straight. Everybody *with* the special boxes (and who apparently like repeats of sit-coms from the 1990s and Mr. Whiskers better than the prime-time broadcast of a brand new reality show revolving around the biggest thing to hit Buffalo since Jim Kelly) are misleading the rest of us?

No wonder Owens has such a poor grasp on his perception by the public and the media. Sure, Owens’ show is doing much better than we all understand—it’s just the folks with those ‘special boxes’ somehow not telling the truth. And Trent Edwards is the best quarterback he’s ever played with. And he really doesn’t know why Dallas let him go. And it was Jeff Garcia and Donovan McNabb ruining things for him in San Francisco and Philadelphia, not his own doing. Not even the real Week 1 of the NFL season, and Owens is already (albeit outside of football) opening his trap and making an ass out of himself. Wonder how long before it does turn to football? The reality show won’t air forever, so what happens when the focus is solely on the city’s football franchise now that expectations have been raised? Buffalo is running a high-pressure, no-huddle offense this season. They don’t have a single offensive lineman playing in the same spot they played in last year, and have replaced two starters outright. What happens when Buffalo’s offense runs the ball three times in a row? What will T.O. be saying when Edwards doesn’t get him the ball enough because he’s going to be on his back eight times a game? Maybe, just maybe, could we be seeing Owens back in the Moron of the Week spotlight sometime during the season? Odds are that if Buffalo is sub-.500 after week 7, even if he doesn’t quite rise to the top, he’ll be a significant runner-up.

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 17:45:55 +0000

Christopher Kurt Hoffman came to my attention this week after he got into an altercation (if you can call it that) with an 81 year old Florida woman who won’t be named here. This guy’s 24 years old, goes six-foot-one, and arrived at his ex-wife’s house to pick his children up for visitation last week, when everything went down. Hoffman apparently had a none-too-pleasant exchange with the childrens’ 81 year old, five foot two inch great-great grandmother, which ended with the bozo punching her lights out. His own account confirms he decked her, striking her in the face hard enough to require four stitches around her right eye, after which he left the scene. The victim’s family called the police, and informed the responding officer that when the woman requested to talk to Hoffman regarding the children, he proceeded to spew spit and vile names down at her. The general opinion is that Hoffman was enraged because his ex-wife (ex-wife, smart move on *her* part) has gone ahead with her life, and is involved in a relationship with somebody who not only loves her and the children, but whom the children love as well.

When the cops picked him up, Hoffman told the Vero Beach Police that this elderly lady had hit him three times after he got out of his vehicle and he struck back in self defense. Huh? Self defense? Are you freaking kidding me? This ass has her by 57 years, nearly a hundred pounds and a foot in height, and he thought his only option was to slug great-great granny in the face? Yeah, *there’s* a story I hope he takes into the clink with him. That one’ll be a real winner around the lunch table.

“So, newbie, what’re you in for. Jamarcus over here’s in for assault with a deadly weapon and grand theft auto. Merv’s in for rape. Chuck over there’s in for double-murder. What about you?”

“Felony battery on a person over 65. I laid out an 81 year old great-great grandmother. But…it was self-defense, man, I swear it! She was all up in my face, y’know? So I had to send her to the hospital.”

Can you imagine how *that’s* going to go over in the clink? Oh, and in case you’re wondering why Hoffie didn’t just call the cops when the octogenarian was (allegedly, ahem) giving him grief, here’s why. He had a warrant out for his arrest, for failing to pay child support. Yep, real Father of the Year candidate, ain’t he? Of course, that doesn’t take into account his previous arrest for possession of drugs and paraphernalia from back in March, either.

Hoff’s mom posted bail for her scumbag son, to the tune of ten percent of five grand bail. $500 for sending an elderly woman to the hospital in front of her great-great grandchildren. Bet his mom’s real proud of how he turned out, huh?

Let’s hope a judge and jury take this guy out of circulation for a while. And that maybe prison takes care of the rest. No shortage of morons inside the walls, so maybe the wrong combination will save all of us some headaches…and future trials.

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 16:14:16 +0000

I watch very little TV. Usually, it’s regulated to catching up on HOUSE when the season’s ended and Pam’s DVR’d the whole run so we can watch without commercials, and the NFL season and some NHL games. So it took me a couple days to catch up with the controversy over Artie Lange’s appearance on the inaugural episode of Joe Buck Live, HBO’s latest sports/entertainment offering. For what it’s worth, I like Buck as a broadcaster, but even had I heard about the premiere before it aired, I probably wouldn’t have cared enough to tune in. There didn’t seem to be a lot there to grab me even as a huge football fan, as I find zero suspense in the Brett Favre saga. That anybody considers the issue of whether or not Favre will actually be quarterbacking for the Vikings this season to be undecided seems kind of ridiculous to me. News of Favre showing up for Vikes training camp, I suspect, will be met with the same kind of surprise reserved for fans of the old Saturday Night Live when Chevy Chase announced that Francisco Franco was still dead.

But on to Lange, the Howard Stern Show regular who’s made a name for himself as a comedian, treading on the same rude & crude territory that the shock jock’s made his career on, especially now that he’s gone on to satellite radio and can say “Fuck” a lot more. Lange can be funny, sharp, cutting, and acerbic. He can fire a little social commentary in there along with the lowbrow toilet humor. In short, he’s got all the skills necessary to succeed, especially in a live broadcast format.

What happened on Joe Buck Live, though, was anything but sharp, anything but witty, anything but…but what one would’ve expected of Lange. Sure, he brought the frat house humor. Unfortunately, it was old-school frat house humor. As in, tired frat house humor. Gay jokes playing on Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo’s name rhyming with homo. A clunker to long-retired Cowboys wideout and audience attendee Michael Irvin about being the reason Lange owes a Staten Island bookie money—a line that would’ve gone over a helluva lot better had he fired it at troubled Bengals wideout Chad Ocho Cinco. The only thing missing was a couple of “Your mother…” rank-outs and a reference to Buck’s masculinity. Oh, wait…Lange did spend time targeting Buck’s sexual orientation and masculinity, while also peppering his commentary with disparaging remarks about the show itself.

Buck, as host, was undoubtedly going to be the target of some zingers, and nothing about that would have been out of bounds. When Buck introduced the panel for the show’s final segment, which included actor Paul Rudd and Saturday Night Live cast member Jason Sudeikis, Buck’s longtime relationship with Rudd was probably going to result in a funny anecdotal from the past, Buck getting ribbed, etc. But Lange took the easy shots every chance he got, starting with hitting Buck on the claim that TMZ is his favorite web site (undoubtedly a no-win entre for Buck. Had he picked a sports site, Lange would’ve taken him apart for being a sports geek with no life). But not only was Lange not particularly funny (despite his maintaining so on Chris Russo’s Sirius sportstalk show, where apparently Lange considers Michael Irvin the arbiter of funny business), he went out of his way to be patently obnoxious to the host and network, while also coming off ill-prepared. Lange’s solo foray into the sports/entertainment crossover was a stilted, long-winded ramble about Jack Buck (Joe’s legendary broadcaster father), which was pitifully delivered, had no real punchline, and more resembled a good-natured Norm Crosby flashback told at a made-for-TV celebrity roast than anything that should’ve wound up on Joe Buck Live. Was this it? The best Lange had to bring out to the audience that would have lapped up any good sports anecdotal? A lame reminiscence of Jack Buck segueing from a Meredith Baxter-Birney TV movie about battered women to batters in the All Star Game? You know Lange didn’t just trot this puppy out because it struck him on the set. He had it in his pocket. But like most of his material, it came out like a crumpled napkin, got a few polite chuckles from the audience, and that was that.

I expected a hell of a lot better from Lange, especially in the aftermath. To try and tell Chris Russo how he killed on the show, when you can listen for yourself to the faltering applause and lengthy periods of silence, (not to mention negative reactions to his Jessica Simpson bashing and his taunting Buck about how the show won’t last four episodes), sounds overly defensive and desperate. Did he have one or two funny lines? Sure. Over nearly 20 minutes. Did he bring the Artie Lange who’s supposedly a huge sports fan with knowledge about the subject to the show? If he did, he left it in the green room. Lange came across as nothing more than a Stern lackey who didn’t have anything more in the gun than a few fag jokes, a couple of tired put-downs, and a fat crack or two. Did he create a lot of buzz? Sure, but so did Roseanne Barr when she ‘sang’ the national anthem and grabbed her crotch to a chorus of boos. I’m sure she thinks she killed that night too, because a couple of her comedic pals talked her up and thought she was the best thing about an otherwise dull ball game. Lange had plenty of openings and room to work, but went straight for the lowest common denominator. I wonder what Jim Norton would’ve done with the same opportunity? Quite a bit more, I’d imagine, and probably without instantly making himself persona non-grata at HBO. He may be a huge sports fan, but I doubt you’ll be seeing Lange show up at halftime on Monday Night Football or chatting in the booth with Tim McCarver during the baseball playoffs. Maybe at a WWE pay per view, though. That’s about as close to sports and entertainment as Lange showed himself to be capable of.

Side note? Lange may have made one valid point to Chris Russo when referring to Michael Irvin’s comedic prowess. Irvin, the retired Pro-bowler, had the best line of the night bar none, saying, “It’s just refreshing to see white on white crime.” Maybe Irvin should be the sidekick on the Stern Show when Lange is out of town playing gigs.

Moron of the Week

editor — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 03:59:03 +0000

While it would be relatively easy to simply blast away at the current administration for any number of idiotic moves, this week’s slightly narrower in focus. While the fish-in-a-barrel pot-shot would be the inability of the administration’s press dept. to spell the President’s name correctly, or the word ‘recovery,’ or ‘stimulus,’ etc., the real target is much more serious in its stupidity factor.

Word came down this week from the GSA (General Services Administration) that a contract had been awarded to a Hollywood, Maryland internet services firm to redesign the government’s Recovery.gov web site. The purpose of the site is to let taxpayers see where the porkulus, er, stimulus money is going and how it is being spent.

Unfortunately, in addition to the misspelling gaffe in the statement sent out via e-mail to the media, there’s the little issue of the redesign costing an eye-popping $18 *million* bucks. Think about that. $18 million dollars to redesign a web site, whose sole purpose is to tell folks where the deficit-ballooning recovery package money is going.

Frivolous? To say the least. Irresponsible? Unquestionably. Fiscally jaw-dropping? Without a doubt. But, for the GSA if not for the beloved-by-the-MSM administration, what’s even worse is that project insiders are critical of the contract, as well as the lack of information that’s been made available to the public. The press release issued Wednesday contained barely any information at all. The company (Smartronix), the company’s home base (mentioned above), and two hype quotes from administration officials concerning how spiffy the pricey new site will be. For the administration, which touted how transparent and open it would be, this is just the latest boondoggle in a series of say-nothing/release-no-information instances which has called into question the President’s promises on those two fronts. (But let’s face it. When even Helen Thomas calls your administration one of the most manipulative since Nixon for how much they’ve tried to control the media and the dissemination of information, you got problems.)

$18 million bucks for a redesigned web site. Doesn’t the government already have a number of web sites? Of course it does. So, why are they sending out $18 million contracts for work that should be done by folks on salary who are currently maintaining and updating other government information-repository sites? With all the government expansion begun since Jan. 20th, are we supposed to believe we really don’t have enough in-house folks to redesign a web site? The GSA certainly thinks so, which should give you a little insight into the kinds of people running the show at General Services.

Runner-up.
I usually don’t bother with the also-rans, but if it hadn’t been for the GSA jumping leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of the pack, I might just have left last week’s MotW up and changed the date. It’s rather pathetic to see somebody froth like a dog in need of a bullet about their alleged internet stalkers, but watching web text so turn a person into a basket case—to the point they’re threatening to ruin the careers of well-known professionals, is truly like watching a human train wreck. There’s little that sounds more shrill and desperate than somebody making virtual threats. How somebody’s ‘messing with the wrong person.’ How somebody is going to get netkicked. How somebody is going to make your life miserable/ruin your life/etc. These folks always seem to have a bogeyman around every corner. But listening to somebody talking so frequently about being ‘driven to the brink’ by web traffic and ISP addresses that show up among their MySpace visitors really kinda makes you wonder. Definitely the kind of person you can picture wearing a very thick tin foil hat.

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 16:53:46 +0000

**UPDATE**

Unlike Michelle McKee and Corey Mitchell (editor and founder of ICB, respectively), I’m not averse to fixing information I know to be factually incorrect. Call it having integrity as a writer, call it a preference for having the facts straight, or even just a desire to be right. Despite McKee’s claims on her twitter account (in a posting which has since been deleted) that nobody would ever update a piece after two weeks had passed despite the inaccuracy being brought to the writer/publisher’s attention, McKee *did* recently update an introduction on the ICB web site, removing information she and Mitchell knew to be factually incorrect back in June. While the cause & effect of this sudden reversal are contentious, the fact is, McKee finally caved and took information she knew to be untrue off the site. That deserves to be recognized.

Yet, while McKee finally removed the info on ICB which she failed to fact-check originally, (along with a number of her tweets regarding me on her twitter account), she instead decided to launch a campaign of libel against me, to the tune of posting publicly that I write child pornography. Once again, it would appear that Ms. McKee’s (admittedly) nonexistent editorial and woeful fact-checking skills have come into play. While Ms. McKee correctly cites that I’ve written freelance pieces for the magazine Babyface, it certainly hasn’t been for the past ten years, as that magazine ceased publication in 2000. And, while I’ve freelanced for several men’s magazines over the past decade, none of my work has ever included, as she claims (see below) underage girls.

I eagerly await Ms. McKee’s proof supporting her allegations. If she requires, I’ll even supply her with the names of the magazines, publishers, and editors in question, so she can research to her heart’s content. Since I’ve worked for publishers which have been in business for decades, these well-known and long-established fixtures in the adult industry will be happy to inform her to what lengths they will go in order to ensure that no underage models are used, and how the editorial staff reviews all articles and fiction to prevent even a reference—non-sexual or otherwise—to underage girls. As she will undoubtedly discover (should she bother), the standard practice at companies publishing this material (and I’ve worked as an editor in the industry so I know first-hand), the rule of thumb is, “No girl ever existed before her 18th birthday.” This went for all mags, be it CHERI or High Society or 18eighteen or Leg Sex. By approaching any woman with the idea she never existed until she was of age, you couldn’t get into trouble.

Unfortunately, Ms. McKee didn’t bother to look into this before making the following claims about me, on Nov. 6th, via twitter:

1: @Levi_Page
@KathrynCasey
Joe Monks’ specialty is underage girl porno & U to try 2 make @Corey_Mitchell & I look bad using HIS words? LMAO!
16 minutes ago from web
in reply to Levi_Page

and a short time later:

2: @josephmonks
Don’t get so cocky, douchebag. Just because the ones 2 you R gone doesn’t mean I removed info about the underage porn U write
about 5 hours ago from web

For somebody who comes across as obsessive regarding perceived lies told about her on the internet, McKee not only took five months to correct simple factual inaccuracies about an ICB contributor’s bio info, but has compounded the lies by claiming I write porno fiction featuring underage girls. And, this is the ‘editor’ of a true-crime blog? This person, whose credibility is nonexistent, oversees and manages a site people are supposed to be able to visit to read true crime stories, articles and blogs?

Mitchell should be embarrassed, visitors to the site should take into consideration who is running the show, and McKee should be viewed as much in the context of her conduct as for how she runs the site. For somebody who should be well-informed on criminal matters, to accuse me of criminal behavior with no proof (and to do so publicly) because she’s made so uncomfortable by anybody challenging her inaccuracies, is simply unconscionable. I’ve asked this before, but it’s never been so relevant as today:

If this is Michelle McKee’s idea of fact-checking, what might be up on ICB that’s equally questionable? She couldn’t accept a polite request to fix incorrect info she posted back in June, replying with a vile rant instead. Now, she claims I have engaged in something illegal without any basis in fact. Knowing this…why would anybody believe anything she’s associated with as editor/manager meets even the lowest of standards for accuracy?

I can’t see any reason to, but decide for yourself.
–Joe Monks
Nov. 7, 2009

It’s been a while, and I’d actually been considering retiring the MotW department, not because there’s any shortage of idiots and mental midgets walking around, but simply because I haven’t had the time to keep up with them. But this week’s loser/winner was such an easy pick I figured I’d reward her glorious stupidity.

Couple weeks back, out of the blue, the scumbag who was trying to sell my film behind my back tiptoed on the fringes of libel, making some unfounded claims about me. Following that, I began the time-consuming process of getting my videos yanked from the guy’s various web sites, MySpace, YouTube, etc. Took a while, but we even got his director’s reel yanked (because, while it’s supposed to be *his* reel, it contained several clips of *my* footage. Footage he did not direct, and which never should have been misrepresented as such.) Within a few days, (kudos to YouTube and Myspace), the vids violating my copyright were taken down. I’m still endeavoring to get some other stuff yanked, especially my personal information, which the guy *still* has not removed, despite his claims of having nothing to do with me. I’m hoping those items will be removed soon.

Which brings me to Michelle McKee, the so-called ‘editor’ of In Cold Blog. (I say so-called, because although the title is plastered up there on the site, it’s pretty clear she’s got zero editorial skills. I’m not even sure she can use a spell-check, given some of the content up there. But, anyway, at the time, all I knew was that if you searched for my name, Hart Fisher, The Bunker, and the word ‘editor’, you eventually came up with a link to her introduction of the guy on the ICB web site. And, in that introduction, there’s some information that needs correction. Namely, the claim that Hart is an executive producer and editor of the film.

Now, in a blog I posted shortly after the false claims about me, I referred to this misinformation, mentioning McKee by name. Because frankly, what she’d posted was not only incorrect, she hadn’t gotten it from the source—me. My belief is she just took Hart’s word for it. Not surprising, because while Hart professed to have ‘walked away’ from The Bunker, it took copyright violation complaints to get MySpace and YouTube to remove my vids from his channels. Hart sure wasn’t in any hurry to remove the Bunker trailer, despite my attorney hitting him with a cease and desist notice way back in February demanding he stop misrepresenting himself in regards to the film.

Having gotten the offending vids yanked, I sent Michelle a polite e-mail, requesting that she either revise or remove the misinformation posted on the ICB site. I didn’t make any outlandish demands. I didn’t ask for anything other than for her to make the correction, or to simply clip out the *wrong* information. In response, McKee threw an e-hissy fit. Her reply subject line was: Attn: Mr. Joe Monks.. piss off

Nice, eh? Yep, you sure come across real pro when somebody sends you a note with the *right* information asking for a correction with the subject line: ATTN: Ms. Michelle McKee.

Beyond the trailer-trash aspect of her subject line, you can’t help but notice she can’t count the periods required for an ellipsis, can you? The funniest thing about this immature little girl’s response was that instead of dealing with the actual issue, she went on a rant about how tough she is (well, at least thinks herself to be), in the tradition of every web-yokel who seeks to look like a menacing bad-ass via text. Get this:

“I’ve been waiting for you to grow a pair and actually contact me rather than just throwing my name about on the Internet. Took you a little while to get your balls in hand, didn’t it? Tell me something. Have you done your research so that you know exactly who this beekeeper is, and how dangerous it is to poke my hive with your little stick? My guess is that you haven’t.”

How dangerous? Huh? It’s dangerous to ask for somebody who purports to be an editor to correct misinformation? Wow, was this where I was supposed to shake and tremble? But I have to give the netkook a little credit, the bee analogy is pretty relevant, because it sure seemed she had a bug up her ass.

McKee then prattled on with this winner:

“I am very well aware that you are out on the Internet stamping your feet over some perceived wrong by Hart Fisher, and that it has absolutely nothing to do with me or In Cold Blog. I am also aware that you have your panties in a bunch over the piece I did at ICB in which I introduced Mr. Fisher to our readers.”

Obviously, Michelle has a greater sense of self importance than she deserves. Perceived wrong? Shit, I posted the damned link to Hart openly bragging about turning down an offer from a distributor to buy The Bunker, and even posted the C&D letter my attorney sent. Perceived? Doesn’t this semi-literate bozo know how to read? I mean, true, it’s apparent that she doesn’t know how to fact-check, but really, when you post the proof in the same blog she obviously read because it contained her name, you’d think she’d be intelligent enough to comprehend it. (Guess not.) Even more amusing is the ‘panties in a bunch’ claim. In my e-mail, what I did was ask for a correction. There’s *zero* reason for incorrect info to be out there. If a newspaper does it, they print a retraction. If a magazine does it, they often make note of it in the letters or editorial section of the following issue. This is a pretty standard journalistic practice (but again, I guess I should probably cut McKee some slack. Her journalistic skills seem to be as lacking as her fact-checking talents).

Beyond this, she goes right into assumptions. I’m only writing to create trouble for Hart. That I wanted him dumped from their roster. That I was seeking to cause him distress. I guess had Little Miss Tantrum actually read my column beyond the mention of her name (it would not surprise me whatsoever if McKee’s the type who sits at home running Google searches on herself hoping she’s been referenced somewhere), she’d certainly have known that this had nothing to do with distress or booting. I’d already been endeavoring to have videos yanked off all of Hart’s sites and wherever he’d posted them, in order to protect *my* property. What do I give a shit that he’s writing on ICB? What does that have to do with me? Not a damned thing. My e-mail only sought a correction, because there’s absolutely no reason to leave misinformation out there about my film. I guess this is an editorial concept foreign to McKee—getting it *right.* I should’ve told her that I’d written the screenplay for JAWS and directed the Exorcist, she probably would’ve accepted that as gospel and FWDed it to other people like she did the mail that was clearly labeled for her personal viewing only. Another reason why the dim bulb should’ve understood this was about that *one* issue. I didn’t copy anybody. I didn’t mail Corey, who belongs to one of my Yahoo groups and who I’ve exchanged mails with numerous times before. I didn’t go running down the roster of ICB contribs and mail-blast away. I contacted *one* person, the person whose job it should be to make sure that what’s put up on the site is correct.

Now, here’s where it gets good. Turns out that McKee *did* actually look at the links provided, because before closing her note, she admits it:

“If you think throwing information about your bullshit lawsuits my way is going to win you intimidation points your are mistaken. I don’t intimidate. The piece will not be pulled or altered.”

Uh, why would anybody be intimidated by the link to the C&D where my attorney put in black and white the facts about Hart *not* being an executive producer and *not* being the editor of The Bunker? That’s not intimidation, Michelle, that’s simply something to illustrate that your information is incorrect. Now that you know this, you pretty much set yourself up as utterly and completely discredited as any sort of editor, because the sad fact is, you know what’s up there is false, but you’d rather leave it than be embarrassed by having to acknowledge your mistake. For somebody who began her reply with the sad and pathetic tactic of trying to shake me by asking if I knew about the danger of your beehive, you should recognize the difference between intimidation and supplying a document attesting to the facts. (Oh, and by the way, a cease and desist letter is not a lawsuit. Shouldn’t you know the difference?)

Okay, saved the best for last. Ms. Freedom of speech! concludes her whiny rant with this gem:

“do not contact me or anyone else associated with In Cold Blog, again! If you ignore this request and contact me or anyone associated with ICB further I will consider it harassment of myself and / or my writers.”

LOL. Harassment? Requesting a correction is considered to be, by the *editor* (and I do use that term loosely) of ICB, harassment. Yep, what a true champion of free speech good ol’ Michelle turns out to be, huh? “Can you fix this mistake?” turns her into a nutter who thinks if I bring my request for a correction to anybody else associated with the site I’ll be harassing them. Of course, like the typical net drama queen, McKee then goes on to lament the time it took to respond, when really, all it should have taken was fixing the *one* sentence in her blog that’s untrue. Makes me wonder how much other info on ICB is bogus. Who knows what else she’s got up there that readers should be questioning?

Eventually, I figured, rather than contact Corey, I’d grant Michelle’s wish. She can keep information she knows to be factually untrue on the site, and I can draw attention to her willingness to damage ICB’s credibility and reputation.

That more than earns the Moron of the Week dishonors, don’t you think? Oh, for an added bonus? I couldn’t resist tossing in an example of Michelle’s hypocrisy. This same bimbo who says that it’d be harassment to try and get a fact corrected, makes her own demand of criminal profiler Pat Brown:

“Now, *I* am telling YOU to cease and desist and remove your libelous remarks about me post haste. As you are well aware one of us can prove slander, libel, harassment, defamation and stalking -”

This can be found at:

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendID=48471144

where Michelle whines about being a victim, demands content be taken down from somebody’s site, again brings up claims of harassment, and, if you have the stomach to crawl through the piteous woe-is-me drama, you’ll find even more hilarious examples of her threats, questioning somebody’s credibility, etc. It would be humorous in a Yahoo-group-troll sort of way if it weren’t so pathetic. I wonder if she’ll stamp her feet and demand I take down my assessment of her conduct, integrity, editorial ‘skills’, etc. Given what I’ve seen thus far, I wouldn’t put it past her. If you really want to see a public meltdown, though, you ought to check out her Twitter page. Not only does she seem to be obsessed with bestselling true crime author Diane Fanning and some other alleged tormenters, (to the point of hundreds of tweets about them), she has the nerve to claim:

“at the very least Diane and Pat have proven that they do not do their own independent research”

Talk about Pot+Kettle=Black . (Or is that Gray?) The Twitter line is hysterical, from her threatening Fanning’s career to ranting about her frail mental state and needing meds, to her mantra of demanding an apology, then stating she’d refuse to accept it, then returning to ask somebody, “Why didn’t you just bloody apologize?” Overall, it reminds me of the brilliant scam Full Force Frank pulled on netkook Jason Pope using the Joe1Orbit screen name on the alt.true-crime forums several years ago. All the same trollish claims are being made. There’s stalkers around every corner; somebody’s interfering in a federal investigation; somebody’s FBI friend/contact said such-and-such; somebody’s going to be sued; somebody’s writing career was going to be ended (back then it was Jack Olsen and Sondra London and Michael Newton being bandied about) etc.

Pope turned out to be one heckuva moron. Since July is here, I guess McKee is the embodiment of the summer rerun.

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 22:50:47 +0000

When your ass is on the line and you’re staring at the remainder of your worthless life being spent behind the walls in an eight by eight cell, you’ll probably consider doing just about anything to avoid being found guilty and hearing the sound of the bars slamming shut behind you for good.

Just about anything, I would imagine. Still, when it comes to trial strategy, I find it difficult to believe that even somebody so reprehensible (and stupid) as Cesar Rodriguez, who is on trial for murder, isn’t trying to rein his attorney, Jeffrey Schwartz, in just a little bit. You see, while Rodriguez has given both videotaped and written statements about the abuse he heaped upon his dead stepdaughter, 7 year old Nixzmary Brown, Schwartz and Cesar Rodriguez are trying to portray the little girl, who weighed a pitiful 36 pounds at the time of her death, as being at least partially responsible for what happened to her.

Despite courtroom testimony that has often driven jurors to tears, in the face of physical evidence of the systematic torture perpetrated on the fragile little girl, despite admissions that Nixzmary was starved and forced to use a litter box, Schwartz is pushing ahead with a strategy of blaming the victim, as well as the girl’s mother, for her death.

I’m sure you’re with me in wondering, how the hell can you try to blame a 7 year old girl, who spent most of her brief life duct-taped or shackled to a chair, so malnourished that she weighed about as much as my beagle, for winding up dead. How do you think you can convince a Brooklyn jury that is emotionally moved each day of testimony related to the girl’s traumatic death that it was her own fault? Personally, I don’t think you can, but that is what Schwartz and Rodriguez are trying, and I can only hope the strategy blows up in their faces. Particularly Cesar Rodriguez , as he is the one on the hook for a one-way trip behind bars, although to be certain, if this legal strategy does result in a lifetime of incarceration, I can only hope Schwartz is involved in many such defenses to come, as morons like this helping to put murderers behind bars can only be a good thing.

Confronted with a photograph of Nixzmary at trial, and asked why the little girl had two black eyes at the time of her death, Rodriguez claimed that Nixzmary had managed to self-inflict the wounds. 36 pounds, 7 years old, killed by a blow to the head, but yet this same starved child supposedly battered both eyes black and blue on her own? Are you kidding me? You want a jury to swallow *that* line?

Schwartz has tried to spin negative comments about his legal strategy, claiming that he is not trying to blame the victim. But there he is, letting his client profess under oath that the girl blackened her own eyes just prior to her turning up dead. Schwartz has described Nixzmary as a violent and uncontrollable “little Houdini” suggesting she had a knack for escaping the restraints that his client applied to her. On the night she was murdered, Nixzmary was disciplined for taking a yogurt from the fridge and allegedly damaging a computer printer. Rodriguez’ story is that he never hit her for this, but instead ran her head under cold water in the bathtub. Medical experts seem to be of the belief that Nixzmary’s head just may have wound up in the tub, but probably got driven into the spigot a time or two. When prodded about his treatment of his stepdaughter, Rodriguez admitted that sometimes she made him so mad that he just threw her down on the floor. On the night in question, despite the girl lying mortally wounded and moaning, looking more pale than he had ever seen her before, Rodriguez did not call an ambulance. He did not seek help for her. He did not get her medical attention.

You tell me. Is a ten woman, two man jury going to swallow this load of horseshit? Is this out of work stepfather who’s admitted to systematically abusing the girl going to make hay on the stand by claiming she gave herself two black eyes and that he only wanted to punish her by running her head under cold water?

Let’s hope for once that the only morons in that Brooklyn courtroom are seated behind the defense table. For her complicity, the mother will also have her day in court. But for right now, if the bigger idiots remain Schwartz and his scumbag client, it’s my hope we can trust a Brooklyn jury a lot more than we could trust a Los Angeles jury to take care of O.J.

Moron of the Week

editor — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 00:21:06 +0000

Since this has been a big weekend for football fans, it’s only fitting that the M.o.t.W. comes out of the myriad of sideline stories and footnotes to the Giants’ monumental upset of the would’ve-been unbeaten New England Patriots.

Friday night, less than a day after arriving in Phoenix for the big game, New York Giants reserve defensive end Adrian Awasom was nailed by Arizona state troopers on suspicion of extreme DUI. He was caught at three a.m. Arizona time on Interstate 10, and arrested, presumably after (miserably) failing a field sobriety test.

What the fuck was Awasom thinking? This guy hasn’t played for the team since week two, when he went on injured reserve after hurting his neck in the first meeting of the season between Big Blue and the Green Bay Packers. He’s only a third year player, and his career hasn’t exactly been a stellar rise to the upper echelons of the league. He was signed as a free agent in 2005, only playing in five games that season, primarily on special teams. He was waived before the 2006 season and hung on to an NFL job when he got signed to the Giants’ practice squad. He once again made it onto the 53-man roster in October, and played in 10 games. He hasn’t exactly made a reputation for himself as a blue chip prospect after three up-and-down years, and nobody is about to confuse him with Michael Strahan or Justin Tuck any time soon. So, you would think that a guy clinging to a spot in the NFL by his fingernails might show a little common sense and not find the kind of trouble that getting absolutely shitfaced and driving at three in the morning usually leads to. Even if Awasom wasn’t going to play a down in the Super Bowl, wouldn’t you think coaches would frown upon a guy whose makeup allows him to do something this stupid? This isn’t exactly going to bode well for how you might perform in the future, traveling a minimum of eight weeks per season and (hopefully) again when the playoffs wrap up in the game to decide the Lombardi trophy winner. Nope, this wasn’t just moronic, it was potentially career-killing, particularly in terms of his future with the Giants. The team didn’t address it publicly, nor did they wait for the full blood alcohol results to be in. They sent Awasom packin’ for home, and in my estimation probably packing for good.

You fly into Arizona as a team member for the Super Bowl. Only hours after you hit town, you’re caught drunk driving and arrested in the middle of the night. You’re such an embarrassment, the team wants you out of town, the sooner, the better. You miss out not only on the Super Bowl festivities and the privileges that come with being a member of the Giants, but you miss the celebration of the team’s shocking upset of the heavily favored Patriots. This is one of the biggest upsets in football history, and Awasom blew being a part of it because he had to get plastered the night he got into town and wasn’t bright enough to call a taxi.

While the Giants are undoubtedly going to lose a few players and will need to sign a few, just as every team does in the offseason, the chances of a moron like Awasom being a part of this team come the Fall? Probably not too good.

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 14 Jan 2008 17:05:21 +0000

As William Shakespeare once penned, What’s in a name? This week, methinks that The Bard would simply jot with his quill: everything. While the actual act isn’t as egregious as some past offenses (such as cutting off your own penis and throwing it at police officers coming to arrest you or being caught voting for Cynthia McKinney), you would think this particular fellow would have understood that from the moment he filed his change of address after being evicted from the womb, he’d have a target on his back. That target comes, not surprisingly, in the form of a surname.

Last Friday, Bryan Scott Moron,a 20-year-old man from the town of Burleson, drove his pickup truck while drunk. And no, that’s not even remotely as stupid as Britney or Paris or Nicole or any number of celebrities with the dough to have drivers at their beck and call once they’ve gotten themselves snockered doing the same. Nope, what adds to the lamentable sin of being named Moron from the time he hit the ground two decades ago, this particular moronic Moron managed to drive his vehicle into somebody’s home. And not just in a, ‘Hey, occifer, I zust lost con’rol comin’ around that curve and shlee jumped the curb and hit the begonias!’ kind of automotive mishap. Nope, young Bryan managed to plow over a mailbox, post and all, without slowing, one can only assume in trying to find that elusive post-Christmas parking spot in somebody’s living room.

Not only would Moron fail all the field sobriety tests, but he’d be tagged with a blood alcohol level of more than twice the legal limit. Not to mention his white Chevy having missed a garage that was not his to occupy by several yards.

Moron’s only twenty, and you gotta think that he has plenty of time to turn shit around. Perhaps he should start by biting the bullet and changing his last name. Perhaps by adding an E to the end of it. I mean, really, I know all about family pride and carrying on your old man’s legacy through his name, but why would anybody want to procreate and saddle their child with this grammar school albatross? When your name is Moron, you aren’t exactly going to get any free passes on the playground, when you answer a question wrong in class, etc. You aren’t just the momentary focus for the ridicule of others when you do something boneheaded—face it, we all have those brain-fart moments when we turn ourselves into laughing stocks. But soon it’s somebody else’s turn, because we’ve got names like Smith and Jones and Johnson and Bennett and on and on. We’re not Moron 24/7, three-sixty-five.

In local reports, poor Bryan’s current occupation is listed as a server at a restaurant. Is it just me, or do you folks also hear the familiar refrain of, “Do you want fries with that?” echoing in your head?

Moron of the Week

editor — Mon, 07 Jan 2008 17:20:28 +0000

This year starts off where I am sure a lot of peoples’ years start off—with folks taking advantage of some of the gizmos and gadgets that have flooded out in recent months, designed to make life simpler. Now, while I don’t profess to be a Luddite, ever since losing my eyesight I’ve been loathe to embrace a bunch of these electronic thingamajigs because, frankly, I find most of them useless. I always preferred my DayRunner to any hand-held PDA or Palm device. I never wanted a car with the temperature and weather conditions displayed on my side-view mirror. Shit, I just got into my car, after all—I already knew it was raining or cold and didn’t need a computer to tell me. Did I really need a substandard digital camera in my cell phone, or to avail myself to any number of a zillion annoying ring tones that sound more like a walkman whose headphone jack popped out than an alert to tell you, hey, pick up the goddamned phone?

Well, the first of this year’s examples of those with less-than-sparkling intellects is an unnamed driver from Bedford Hills, New York. Relying on the ever-popular GPS device which was directing him where to go, this astute fellow followed the instructions given, even when the GPS directed him to turn onto railroad tracks. Yep, you gotta love global positioning systems. And I honestly mean that. My wife needs one if she wants to go around the block, she is so directionally challenged. But at least my wife looks up and pays attention to her surroundings. This guy? Driving onto railroad tracks?

You can guess what happens next. His car gets stuck on said tracks, and of course, there is near-harmonic convergence and a Johnny Cash moment. “I hear that train a’ coming…comin’ round the bend…” as a locomotive bears down on the driver. Unable to get the car moving again (presumably he didn’t wait for the GPS to tell him to get out while the getting was good), the driver bailed just in time. Despite the driver’s attempts to alert the engineer, the oncoming Metro North train was still chugging along at 60 MPH when it turned the car into a junker, ripping up 250 feet of track and stranding several hundred passengers for hours.

The kicker? The guy driving? He’s a computer analyst. Folks, you can’t make this kind of stuff up.

I know it’s great to be able to rely on technology to help keep us from getting lost, to remind us when its time to change the oil, even to put gas in the tank and air in the tires. But if you’re relying on a GPS system in your car to the extent that you drive onto train tracks and you think you’re doing good? Maybe next time try a map and pay a little more attention. Losing a car and shutting down Metro North for hours because your GPS told you you were in the right place? That’s just plain moronic.