Tiger Woods is the first athlete in history to bank $100 million in a year. That’s a lot of balls. The astrological sum is thanks in part to a raise he finagled out of long-time endorser Nike. The deal is this: Nike gives Tiger up to $100 million to promote its products for a further five years in a deal thought to be the largest of its kind. That’s livin’ large.

The Curmudgeon wants to live large. I want it, I want it, I want it. So I say to all you “endorsees” out there, “the Crusty Curmudgeon is ready to shill for your agenda, service, software, hardware, vitamins, penis enlargers, maxi pads, cars, flowers, candies, beer, liquor, perfume, cologne, soap, shampoo, realpoo, cigarettes, cigars, airline, vacation spot, city, country, law office, bail bonds, erection pills, Spanish fly, fruit fly, pest control, website, building site, TV show, burlesque show, movie, theater, home repair service, escort service, secret service, etcetera, etcetera.”

In short, I’ll endorse almost anything. I left out porn because I wouldn’t do a thing like that (attn. porn purveyors: contact me on my private line). Granted, I am not Tiger Woods. Nike didn’t waste their money either. The pre-Tiger Nike golf division was a barely a blip on the screen and today they do $600 million annually. If Tiger got a piece of the pie, I only need a crumb. Come on Old Spice. I can even whistle that song for you. How about you, Extense? I’ll “grow” with your company. Come deep pockets all. I am ready to shill.

Here in the plush offices of the CC (that’s Crusty Curmudgeon for you neophytes), we’re always on the lookout for odd police actions. Sometimes, when were not too busy stuffing our faces with truffled turkey and martini’s, we even write about them. I do so today with this tale of a tail.

…and then he struck a match and…KABOOM!

West Virginia, steeped in rich history such as hillbillies, strip-mining, and black lung, is host to our report of police abuse. Jose A. Cruz was pulled over for driving without headlights. According to the cops, the complaint said he smelled of alcohol, had slurred speech and failed three sobriety tests. He was handcuffed and taken to the station for a breathalyzer test.

As patrolman T.E. Parsons prepared the machine, Cruz scooted his chair towards the cop, lifted his leg and “passed gas loudly.” And then he fanned it in the general direction of the cop. The cop wrote in his complaint, “The gas was very odorous and created contact of an insulting or provoking nature with Patrolman Parsons.” Oh, the humanity!

Cruz admitted that he cut one, but denied moving his chair toward the cop nor aiming his poot at the officer. He further claimed he had an upset stomach and the police wouldn’t let him use the bathroom.

“I couldn’t hold it no more,” he eloquently stated.

He also denied the rest of it, i.e., being drunk and uncooperative. Cruz stated that the cops thought the poot incident was funny at the time, yukking it up with him, but then the complaint said different.

When asked how he felt about the complaint now, Cruz lamented, “This is ridiculous. I could be facing time.”

Think of the precedent this could set. The lawsuit potential alone is mind-boggling. Does your spouse let ‘em rip while your sleeping? Sue ‘em! Someone accidentally let one escape while you’re standing in line behind them? Sue ‘em! It’s not like the court system doesn’t stink enough as it is. The insurance companies will be right behind the movement, smelling money. You’ll need personal gas insurance.

This is going to be a big new thing. Remember, you got a whiff of it here first!

The Shameless Self-Promotion Section

Speaking of lawsuits, they keep getting wackier and wackier. I just published this article on my five favorite frivolous lawsuits and the decay of the American Justice System. You can read it here: Five Stupid Lawsuits: You Don’t Like It, Sue Me!

Photo on Flicr by Kevan, http://www.flickr.com/photos/kevandotorg/2892411193/

Here in the top secret offices of The Curmudgeon, we are constantly on the lookout for spies. I am particularly suspicious of bugs, expecting them to be little robotic creatures equipped with cameras and recording equipment. This is just the type of corporate espionage some of our competitors would engage in, such as the site All Stupid Things and Important Stuff Ignored. Naturally, countries are known for spying on another, for example, Pakistan and India.

To support this accusation, India has arrested a spy from Pakistan. Or so they say. The spy is being held under armed guard. No one is allowed to visit the prisoner, being held in an air-conditioned room (bloody nice of them – with the heat in India and all), and probably kept in a cell. More like a cage, really. Appropriate, because the spy is a pigeon.

The pigeon was found by a local resident with a ring around it’s foot and a Pakistani phone number and address stamped on his body. The Pigeon carried a message, though no note has been found. Local pigeon fanciers said that Pakistani pigeons are easily identifiable as they look different from Indian ones. Maybe the pigeon speaks Urdu instead of Hindi. In any case, senior officers are taking it seriously and have ordered they be updated 3 times a day. So far, the updates say, “Pigeon still won’t talk. Just that incessant cooing.”

What I can’t comprehend is how the pigeon could go back to Pakistan and report his findings? Unless, of course another spy – a human one – would tie another message to it to be delivered. But that’s ridiculous. India is a free society, with cell phones and the Internet and everything. Surely there are better ways to communicate with Pakistan?

I’ll say this though. Things are getting desperate when a country uses carrier pigeons for spying. I thought that went out with World War II. But it’s not so strange to think about spying Pigeons. Iran arrested two pigeons they said were spying on a nuclear facility just in October, 2008. We all know how logical and sensible Iran is. Naturally, they accused the United States, and believe the bands around the pigeons feet are actually communication devices. Ah ha! Now we’re getting somewhere. Although they can’t figure out how they work, Iran is sure the bands somehow communicate with the U.S. Sound familiar?

Very close to robotic spying bugs. Stranger things have happened.

(Some information for this story came from Breitbart.com and the London Daily Mail.)

senaleko/flickr

Here in The Curmudgeon edifice, we are what you might call a “flashy” group, but we are not flashers, at least not that I know of. That is to say nobody has been caught. Of course I am not counting our yearly Mardi Gras celebration, where there is some flashing, but the wholesome, feminine kind. Not so for an act perpetrated on a public New Zealand bus.

A man showed his New Zealand sausage roll to a female bus passenger, who did what any modern, intelligent, progressive woman would do. She screamed. She screamed bloody murder. She wouldn’t stop screaming. So what does a bus driver do with an hysterical screaming woman aboard? In New Zealand, he alters his course and drives straight to the nearest police station. Only by the time the driver gets there, he is nervous and panicky, so when he opens the bus door and gets up, he forgets to put the bus in neutral. Well, the crazy lady is still screaming, so he can perhaps be excused this temporary lapse in caution. The bus is not so forgiving however, and it lurches forward and crashes into the police station entrance.

The interesting thing is the flasher was just 14 years-old, so it probably wasn’t a sausage roll, or even a banger, but more like a little sweet gherkin. The woman reacted absolutely wrong. What she should have done—and I’m telling all females this–laugh your ass off. Oh, yes. Laugh, laugh, point at it, laugh. Now I don’t know what kind of a reaction a flasher wants in a woman, but I think it’s probably along the lines of shock and awe. I can guarantee he doesn’t want her to laugh. No man wants that. No man can stand that. Indeed, that gherkin would have retracted back into his pants like a turtle’s head back into its shell.

Police charged the 14 year-old alleged flasher with pulling out an indecent act…er, I mean…carrying out an indecent act.

All this trouble because one stupid kid whipped out his alleged hot dog.

Wait. It wasn’t a hot dog. It more like a Little Smokey. Now that’s a scream.

(Some information for this story from The New Zealand Herald.)

Here in the spacious but not cavernous offices of The Curmudgeon, we are amazed at what people will pay and go through to find someplace to live. The most recent example of closet camping comes from Delray Beach, Florida, where Sergio Santos rents a closet to live in – like an apartment – for $150 per month. This is true.

It’s a relatively large closet as closets go – 5 ½ by 14 feet – but still, it’s a closet. Mr. Santos (and yes, I will address him as Mister as he has my admiration for his creativity and fortitude) has done what he can with the space. This comes as no surprise since he is an architect and has designed housing projects, high rises and office buildings, but he lost his job and now works as a waiter. His skill as an architect has served him well closet-wise. He has designed the interior of his castle (for a man’s home is his castle) to now have a bedroom, office and mini-kitchen. Oh, he’s livin’ the high life all right, and he has cable TV, Internet service, a computer, mini-fridge, and a microwave.

He spent a total of $64 using recycled parts. Of course, I suppose it could get a little awkward after a date and he is asked, “My place or yours.” Definitely yours. Heck, maybe he’ll get his own TV show: Pimp My Closet.

But Wait…It Gets Weirder

But then there is this story from Japan. Sadder, yes, but much more remarkable too. A Japanese man became puzzled when food continually turned up missing from his kitchen over several months. He installed some security cameras that transmitted to his mobile phone. One day after he left, he noticed someone moving about in his apartment and, thinking it was a burglar, called the police.

The police found the doors and windows locked, but went in and began a room to room search. They searched everywhere a person could possibly hide. Finally they slid open a shelf closet, there she was hiding on the top compartment. Thing is, she had been living there for a year. Furthermore, she had put a mattress in the small place and apparently took showers. She was described by the police as “neat and clean.”

For some reason, I can only imagine a Japanese person being able to get away with this. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe it’s all the old Kung-Fu television show, or life-long training as a Geisha. You know, walk across this rice paper without tearing it training. I’m impressed by this woman too. To live like in a closet for a year with out being detected is remarkable.

Excellent, Grasshopper.

(Photo Credit: Geisha Juggling, flickr, Okanawa Soba)

Here in The Crusty Curmudgeon Office of Media Studies, we know a good headline when we see one, but never have we seen one as tempting, as baffling, as curiosity-stoking as the one above. “What in the world?” we wondered, and off we went to read the story, salivating like a dog going after a side of beef that just fell off the meat delivery truck.

In the “truth is stranger than fiction department,” the story from Taylorsville, Utah did not disappoint. The tale goes like this: A man is sitting in his kitchen at 2am when he sees a mouse. Doing what any God fearing, NRA card-carrying, red blooded American male would do, he reached for his 9mm handgun—which I guess he keeps in his kitchen for this very reason—and shot at the vile rodent. Predictably, he missed. The bullet tore through the wall hitting one of his roommates in the chest.

Lordy, lordy, whatever do we do now? Why, call an ambulance, of course, and since it’s a gunshot, the police respond as well, natch. And the police—being police—have a looksee around the joint. They look here, they look there, they look in a closet in the basement. Inside they find a 13 year-old girl. Now what do you suppose a 13 year-old girl is doing hiding in the closet in an apartment where only grown men live?

The girl told police she had sneaked out of her house without her father’s knowledge to see one of the roomates, 24 year-old Paul Daniel Kunzler, according to a jail report.

After further questioning, investigators learned Kunzler and the 13-year-old had been having a relationship for four months and had met through a common friend. After the girl fessed up in detail, Kunzler was booked into the Salt Lake County Jail for investigation of two counts of rape of a child, three counts of sodomy of a child and three counts of sexual abuse of a child.

Meanwhile, back at the target range, the shooting victim was taken to a local hospital in serious condition. He was later upgraded to stable condition.

I give credit to the true hero, the crime fighting mouse that clearly planned the whole thing from the beginning, putting his very life at risk. It may have been only a mouse, but there was clearly a rat living there as well.

For a video report from KSL news, visit their website.

http://www.ksl.com/?nid=960&sid=18586564

Here in the friendly confines of the Curmudgeon offices, we are constantly surfing the web looking for tasty morsels to bring to you, our readers. Naturally, we love to point out foibles, inconsistencies and the outrageous, but we’re not exactly looking to throw people in jail. Not so the police who surf sites such as Facebook and Myspace looking for nefarious activities. This is necessary, I suppose, for who can tell what terrorist plots are tweeting through the Internet?

What they found instead was a song called “Kill Me a Cop,” written and produced by Antavio Johnson a few years ago when he was a teenager. Remember the uproar over rap lyrics 20 years ago? Oh, what fun times those were. Ice Cube and N.W.A. were singing “@$&% the Police” as a form of protest and Tipper Gore was talking about putting warning labels on music. So here comes a kid who wants to protest just like the big boys, albeit 15 years later.

Several years after recording it, the cops find the song on Myspace, and in it he waxes philosophic about two police officers who harassed him. In it, Johnson raps, “Im’ma kill me a cop one day.” Unfortunately, he calls the two cops by name – well, nobody ever accused rappers of being smart – and he promised that he would shoot them with a “glock” in the dome” if they ever “get my timing wrong.” The great irony is if you Google the guy’s name he is now a self-proclaimed Christian rapper.

So the cops investigate, and the result is the now 20 year-old Johnson gets two years for threatening a cop. Ok. I’m not going to discuss whether that should be a punishable offense, but two years? For a song that was never even played on the radio? This reeks of “the man” pushing down “the people.” What about all the politicians and pundits who are criticizing the current President of the United States? Are they not guilty of treason? And isn’t treason a hangable offense? Oh, no, no, you say, that’s freedom of speech. Okaaaaay. And this is…what? It is about silencing protest. It’s about denying our basic rights as defined in the Constitution. (Never mind that the kid is already in jail on cocaine charges.) It is about keeping the people down so we can serve the elite and finance their lifestyles while clamoring for a slice of bread.

You may think I am being overly dramatic, but then I say to you that you fail to see the truth. It was unfortunate that the would-be rapper did not have a lawyer and simply plead guilty. At least now publicity over his case has opened discussions, gotten him a lawyer and backing from the ACLU, and he’ll probably get an appeal and a reduced sentence.

So pay attention. The bloodless revolution is coming, and I’ll write more on that and Dropout Nation later, but two years in prison for lyrics in a song?

That’s a bad rap.

(This story was reported by the Orlando Sentinel and other leading news services.)

Here in the offices of The Curmudgeon, we are animal friendly but we’re not exactly PETA. Oh, we have gone to bat for animals, as witnessed in our post Woman Tapes Dog to Fridge: Which One’s the Bitch?, but sometimes this “political correctness” thing stretches the limits of our activism and even our comprehension. Witness the story of the Frying Rat on a Hot Tin Roof:

According to the Associated Press, “The owner of a New Jersey pest control company has been charged with animal cruelty after a squirrel was found dead in a rooftop trap.” The Chief of the Monmouth County Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, Buddy Amato (he gets to call himself “Chief?” Well, there’s your problem right there,) says the company “Critter Ridder” set a trap for the animal and no one came back to check it. Amato says the squirrel was found “cooked to death on the hot roof” Thursday afternoon.

Aw, come on! Squirrels are rats with furry tails. Are you going to go after homeowners because they set a mouse trap and forgot about it? What’s the difference, really? I’ll tell you. Squirrels are far more destructive. I can hear the bastards in my attic right now. There are holes in my eaves from where the squirrels have chipped away at the wood to get in there. I have replaced them only to have the little, cute disease-carrying rodents excavate their way back in. My trash cans have holes in the lids where they have created their own entryway. And then there is the regional legend of my Battle of the bird feeder. Not since the Alamo has a more brave fight been put up against such unbeatable odds. Nobody showed up to slap the squirrels with a citation for stealing bird food and starving our fine, feathered friends to death. Where was the ASPCA then?

And it gets even stranger: The owner of “Critter Ridder” has been slapped with four counts – count ‘em, FOUR – counts of animal cruelty, and one of them cited her for “not providing the squirrel with adequate food, water and shelter.” Ha, ha! So remember, the next time you trap a mouse, you’d better set a little piece of cheese, a bowl of water and the mouse into a comfortable shoe box and call the ASPCA to come and get it. And if you happen to catch a squirrel, they’ll come and get the thing and spend thousands of dollars nursing it back to health in the million dollar Rocky and Bullwinkle Squirrel Rehabilitation Facility, then set it free into the wild, where it will quickly find it’s way back to your house, chew a hole in your eaves, and live in your attic and tap into your cable television.

Don’t you ASPCA folks have some real work to do? Aren’t their puppy mills and so-called farms where the animals are living in filth and starving to death? Why don’t you take all the money I donate to you and look into those true crimes instead, and leave the squirrels to fine, small companies like Critter Ridder.

If I lived near them, I’d hire them. They don’t deserve a citation. They deserve a trophy with a little cooked squirrel dipped in bronze for a job well done.

MsScarlett/flickr

It’s quiet here in the empty but not tenebrific offices of the Curmudgeon, as I have generously given the staff the first day of the New Year off. I’ll be heading to the homestead soon to prepare the traditional New Years good-luck food, black-eyed peas. I mentioned this while on the phone to my Canuck friend, who responded, “What are black-eyed peas?”

Shocked, I was. I appreciated this question however, imprimus, because I like talking to my Canuck friend, and furthermore, because it made me contemplate the matter, that is, speaking culturally, what is up with that “black-eyed peas good luck on New Years day” thing?

Ahh. To explain black-eyed peas to the unenlightened is a joyous thing, but of course I pretended to be miffed and irritated since that is my shtick. So pay attention, class. I’m only going to say this once.

Black-Eyed Peas 101:

This legume that looks like a small, tan-colored bean with a black spot in the center, is sometimes simply called a “field pea,” of which the black-eyed pea is the most common variety. They are considered good luck in many parts of the US, but especially in the South—wherefrom I hale, and are traditionally consumed on New Years Day to bring luck throughout the year.

These legumes are often accompanied by either hog jowls or ham, such as a hock, cooked in with the beans. As much as I vociferously cling to and celebrate southern traditions, hog jowls I do not do. Nor pigs feet, chitins, tripe, or any other offending trifle that the poor and desolate have been forced consume from necessity and somehow got it into their malnutritioned minds that it was good. Ham hocks are another matter, and add tremendous flavor suitable for…uh…I don’t know…Minnie Pearl or someone.

History tells us that black-eyed peas and other legumes have been considered good luck in many cultures for ions. The hog, and thus its meat, is believed to be lucky because it represents prosperity. In some regions, rice is a lucky food that is eaten on New Year’s Day. Many cultures consume cabbage on New Year’s, as it is also a sign of prosperity and good luck follows since the leaves resemble and represent paper currency. So lay some cabbage on me so I can buy some black-eyed peas and ham hocks.

Serving Suggestion: Use a Spoon

And that is everything I know about eating black-eyed peas on New Years Day, except that my family always had them on the first day of the year, and I continue that tradition today. Besides, when made from real beans (not canned) and slow-cooked with a couple of ham hocks and some chopped onion, they are scrumptious! I’ll also be serving an appetizer of homemade vegetable soup with stock made from a large Sirloin roast bone, and then the main course of barbecued ribs, the black-eyed peas, and a big salad with lots of stuff in it!

And don’t forget cornbread! Here’s the trick to cooking cornbread. Ya gotta have an iron skillet. This is paramount. You fry up one slice of bacon and remove it from the skillit, but leave the grease. Then you pour the cornbread batter into the hot skillit. Hear that sizzle? Ya gotta have the sizzle. Then cook it normally in the oven. You can sprinkle that slice of crispy bacon over the black-eyed peas when you serve. Come on over for dinner!

Fergie: Not the black-eyed pea I was after, but still delicious. jorgemejia - flickr

Many might see such a meal as causing gaseousness and wonder if the black-eyed peas really do bring good luck. Hmmm…Interesting questions both. I’ll let you know about the gas thing later, after I study the situation. As for “do they bring good luck,” thinking back on past New Years…umm…no…apparently not–if one can judge by me–for if I didn’t have bad luck I’d have no luck at all.

And yet, I “chew on” with this ridiculous gastronomic charade, passing gas copiously and having bad luck. Oh well, at least dinner will taste good, and if you come over the company will be nonpareil. You can bring the wine. But what kind of wine to bring?

I Don’t Want Whine With That

I think the wine should accompany the ribs, so how about a nice Cabernet or Shiraz or Merlot. Something nice and hardy and rich with deep woodsy flavors and a spicy nose. It has to stand up to the flavorful meat and sauce.

Maybe pick up a blend, perhaps a Hardy’s triple blend that has all three. It’s easier than deciding. That will cut the heaviness of the Shiraz, too, which will enable us to drink more. I actually like the blends. No wine “aesthete” am I. When asked what type of wine you should drink with what foods, I say, “whatever you like.”

So I’ll expect you at 8:00 or thereabouts, as I am not particularly impressed with promptness. We’ll enjoy a nice, country, rustic meal, or call it “French Farmhouse Cooking” if you prefer. As for the after-effects, I think I’ll light some beeswax candles.

Bon Appetit.

queenie13/flickr.com

Again, across my large but not gargantuan desk here at The Curmudgeon, yet another news item about a man in sexy women’s clothing has caught my attention. By sexy, I mean if the clothing were being worn by a woman and not that the guy looks “sexy” in women’s clothing, but maybe to some, he does. How the heck should I know. What I do know is that there must be something in the water since we just recently reported on the “Burglar In Women’s Thong Panties Arrested.”

The perp based on victim's description.

Today’s “I Feel Pretty” story comes from the Dayton Daily News as reported by writer Lou Grieco. It seems a man wearing a green or blue one-piece swimming suit – well thank heavens it’s a one-piece; he would look ridiculous in a bikini – is accosting women on a stretch of road that runs “along the Little Miami River, and some of the reports have come from women who are canoing down the river.”

Here is his diabolical M.O.: He runs out of the woods straight at his female victims, asks them how he looks, and then turns and runs back into the woods. Seriously. I wish I got aroused so easily. As silly as all this is, I wonder exactly what the police intend to do about it? It isn’t a crime, is it?

Dangerous Liasons

Maybe the police department recognizes behavior that seems harmless now but could escalate into something dangerous. Like he could graduate to asking “Did you notice my hair?” Or when he really becomes depraved, “Does my butt look big in this?” I’d be frightened too.

These stories are becoming so prevalent that I’m wondering if I missed something. Is men wearing women’s sexy clothing the new thing? Am I supposed to be wearing panties, stockings and a bustier? I still don’t get it and I wouldn’t wear this stuff for money. Well…maybe for money. A lot of money.

How much were you offering?

UPDATE: Police have apprehended the “Swimsuit Harasser.” To see the video tape of him being arrested, go here.