Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

Things I shouldn't do as an objective reporter

Friday, April 20, 2007
Shut-up, you old bat!

From NYP’s gossip gasbag Cindy Adams comes, in reference to the latest diaries of Anna Nicole Smith’s to be, ahem, released, this gem of moral turpitude:

How a celebrated female, the mother of a child, could set down such words, have such thoughts, perform such acts, then memorialize them on paper is not to be fathomed.

Mmmmmyes, because the thieves who got their hands on the diaries and are trying to sell them to the highest bidder are somehow not disgusting for stealing them.

My crabbing here is not about whether she’s a public figure; of course she is, and therefore everyone wants to to view the trainwreck, right or wrong. My point here is, as long as they’re not inflicting harm on anyone else and within the context of them sitting alone in their private domain, every nutjob in the known universe is allowed to express their private thoughts in any manner they choose. Pen and paper, spray paint, interpretive dance ... all of it. “How could you?” What the hell kind of question IS that!??

Posted by Broad2:04 PM
Friday, November 03, 2006
Looking at my stats

for the first two days of this month, and not a one of my referrers is a legitimate site. So, like, do all y’all come from pr0n sites?

Posted by Broad4:43 AM
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Vincent!?? Are you KIDDING me!??

’k, guys, the previews for next week’s Nip/Tuck: a mouse growing a human ear so Rosie O’Donnell can get an ear transplant? Bitch, please. This season is waaaaaaay over the top, although I do like how Larry Hagman’s and Brooke Shields’ characters are developing.

Posted by Broad3:23 AM
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
And by “mysterious,” I mean “batshit crazy”

Another title having nothing to do with my entry, other than the people who need to know what I’m talking about do. It’s funner that way sometimes.

Except for the Martin funeral, however, there really isn’t much to dish about—that is, unless you count the complete wang Gary Mayor Rudy Clay left in my mouth after his ugly show of ego at Martin’s wake Sunday. MerFer rolls up in his Mayoral Hummer, assistant and bodyguard/driver in tow, and waltzes up to the front of the line and bypasses the hour and a half wait the rest of us had. Yeah, I know this guy thinks he’s a marked man since someone’s tried to shoot him up once already; whatever. No one’s going to convince me that he and Gary Martin were THAT good of friends that he should’ve been given rights reserved to the family, close friends or even the sheriff. I mean, Hobart Mayor Linda Buzinec stood in line maybe 15, 20 people ahead of me—you didn’t see HER taking advantage of her position. Neither did any of the law enforcement officers who attended, at least none that I saw. Tool.

I do get to write a Political Notebook item out of it, though, and that’s always fun because you get to be as snarky as you wanna.

Posted by Broad3:48 AM
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Cheesy way to use this grafic


that I ganked from the lovely Bumptious and have been dying to use, but did y’all hear about the 24 morons that got busted in NWI for wanting to have sex with kids?

Without endorsing sex with underage children whatsoever (because I absolutely DO NOT), why would anyone try to solicit underage sex on the Internet? It’s bad enough having to wonder if the person you’re talking to online is actually who they say they are, so why would you compound the anxiety by doing something you’re likely going to get busted for sooner or later!?? Is there some sexual turn-on of which I’m unawares?

My girls’ story after the jump:

Posted by Broad8:02 PM
A sad, sad day in the NWI

Here’s my day: Former Lake County Police Chief Gary Martin and ISP Trooper Lt. Gary Dudley were killed in a vehicle accident while biking for their annual charity ride that raises money for the fallen officers’ families across Indiana. Haven’t gotten all the details, but preliminary reports say that someone crashed into the cyclists’ supply truck, causing the truck to smash into the cyclists. Three other cyclists were injured in the accident, as was the driver that caused the crash.

I was just with these guys Sunday covering their stop in Merrillville. They were healthy, happy, exhausted but no worse for the wear. I joked with Martin about his goatee and earring (his “teaching persona,” he called it, as he was about to step back into the classroom to teach fledgling cops), and how he left his wife after their daughter’s wedding Saturday to rejoin the ride. I kidded Dudley about being “the brains of the operation.” And I said “Hello” and shook the hand of the guy who drives the supply truck—can you even imagine how HE feels right now!?? Good God. It wasn’t even his fault. All I can say is, I sure hope the person who hit them wasn’t drunk, because woe unto him if he was.

The Baby had him as a teacher when she was in undergrad, and she loved him. She was pretty distraught when I talked to her last. I’m just kind of stunned by it; I mean, I just saw these guys, and now they’re gone. I HATE when that happens.

Anyway, if any of y’all are so inclined to donate to their mission, you can either call (219) 755-3400 or go to the C.O.P.S Web site: Lookit.

Posted by Broad12:07 AM
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The Slickster

Because the world is small and I never end up knowing who’s going to cross my path, I had the pleasure of talking to a college crush of mine for a story today. He was a rather short-lived crush, at least by my standards (from, like, January to shortly after school let out for the summer), but he was definitely one of the more fun ones—tall, gangly, goofy-looking and a bit younger than me; he was 18 or 19 to my 21? no 22, I would’ve been 22 when we hooked up. He was also the author of one of, if not the only, cartoons we ran in our college rag that wasn’t syndicated, so he ended up spending a crapload of time in the newspaper office with the rest of us misfits. Anyway, my favorite memory* of Slick, as we used to call him, involved the wonder wagon, a fifth of Rumplemintz and a tattoo.

Yeah, I know that has the classic markings of drrrrrrrty, but it wasn’t salacious at all. Seriously.

It was a Wednesday, and Slick, me and another doofus we used to hang out with took off for lunch. We were in my car—the illustrious 1985 Ford Escort Wagon I totalled three different times between 1988 and 1993—and I seem to recall that I was letting Doof do the driving for some reason, or maybe he was driving on the way back because I’d had a few beers at lunch ... Anyway, at some point on the way back, I pointed out to the two of them that I had an unopened bottle of Rumple left over from the Indiana College Press Association weekend from which the paper staff had just returned, and they were all “Sweeeeeeeeet,” so we cracked it open and started swigging.

(I should mention here that this was during the semester I almost drank myself out of college forealz, so that there was an unopened bottle of anything alcoholic in my car is a miracle, especially since ICPA was basically a giant hotel party for college newspaper nerds and my room had the hospitality tub. I didn’t even drink that weekend at all, probably because I was away from home and thus away from my “stress.” Whatever that was at the time.)

So we get back to campus, and Slick decides he needs to have his tat re-inked. I, needing very little in the way of excuses to ditch class, decided I was going to go with because I’d never seen a tat done before, but Doof had Calc or something that he just couldn’t miss (which I wasn’t the least bit upset about because, hello! Crush!). It was just me and Slick and a bottle of Rumple, of which he maybe drank the equivalent of the bottle neck while I pounded the rest. In about an hour. And I lived to tell the tale, without throwing it back up or anything. I remember being in the tat shop and watching the artist hit his tat with purple, of all colors, and going, “Wow. If I weren’t so drunk, I’d be completely freaked out by that.” I also remember stopping at the corner of Ridge and Wisconsin in Hobart and calling the newspaper office from the payphone while Slick threw some gas in the Wonder Wagon’s almost-empty tank. We just drove around all afternoon, talking and laughing about whatever. Of course, when we got back to campus, everyone knew what we were doing because I smelled like a giant candy cane (Tara can attest to this). And then I went out to Wad’s Wonder Wagon and started crying hysterically about something, and I sobered up. The end.

Slick’s a commercial painter now who focuses on high-end remodeling jobs, happily married with three or four daughters. Good for him.

Posted by Broad9:41 PM
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Taking the whole competition thing a bit too seriously
Dear Mr. Kasarda:

It was really nice meeting you yesterday evening during the Naturalization Ceremony. What an impression you made when you asked me, "With all the other people here, you can't find someone else to talk to?" right in front of the guy we were interviewing! How awesome! So, did you like how I went back and used him as my lede? Or was that too predictable? Because I did that just for you.

You pole-smoking, whiny bitch.

Now, I know and have worked among a ton of your colleagues, and none of them has ever behaved like a little screaming girl when I've joined them on an interview. If they have a problem with it, they at least will continue the interview and then wait for me to move on if they have super-secret questions or whatever. Usually, though, not only are they all right with it, but we help each other out with cursory information if one or the other comes in late to a meeting, for example. But hissy fits? No. They're professionals. You'd do well to ape their style.

All I can say is, be glad you work primarily in the other county, because you can rest assured that I will NEVER, EVER help you out with anything should our paths cross again.

The Broad
Posted by Broad3:40 AM
Friday, March 17, 2006
Behold my brilliance
Below, my Pulitzer-worthy story.

Ok, not really. But it should serve as a reminder to Lake Conty politicos that the Innernet? Not as safe as you think, folks.
Posted by Broad2:35 PM
I SMOKED ‘em, y’all! (but I’m still going to kick JB’s ass for this)
There are days when you just do your job, and you do a fine job, and you go to bed satisfied. And then there are the days when you are nothing short of absolutely BRILLIANT, and you squeal with glee and do the "WHOOMP! There it IS!" dance in your chair. And today? Was one of those days.

Our County Politics reporter, JB, absconded to NYC for a weekend of drunken debauchery with his brother for the High Holiday (bastards! I've already been warned that I'm getting drunk dialed by Mer tomorrow night), so my one editor sent me out to cover a press conference by this new group that claims it's compiling data on candidates so that voters will know who they're voting for. But instead of doing that, they presented a Web site slamming the incumbent sheriff's opponent which, all right, that's par for the course. The problem was, the spokeseperson said -- nay, inSISTED -- that they weren't affiliated at all with the incumbent sheriff. So, I got a wild hair up my ass when I got home and decided that I was going to see if I could find out who the Web site was registered to. I did a whois and discovered that our site owner was trying to not be whois-ed, because s/he put bullshit information (i.e. Lake County for region, 99999 for the zip, etc.) in when s/he registered for the domain. I looked at that and thought, "Hmmmm, there's got to be a way to circumvent that. Who do I know that would know?"

That person? EWK. EWK walked me through how to do it and, well, looky there! Something miiiiiiiiiighty suspicious. So I called my editor, had her look up some information JB had on his desk, and, well, looky there! Now, what was miiiiiiiiiighty suspicious is now downright damning.

Unfortunately, I can't tell you what exactly it is, because the story isn't out yet. (I know -- awwwwwwwww!) I'll throw it up tomorrow, of course, but in the meantime, let's just say that if this "press conference" is the way the incumbent is running his campaign? He's doomed, because that was the most retarded display I think I've seen in, oh, the last three weeks.
Posted by Broad3:59 AM
Thursday, January 19, 2006
This just in …
Serial killer David Maust hanged himself in the Lake County Jail early this morning. Some reports have him dead, while others say he's on life support.

Full report in the P-T tomorrow.

[UPDATE: Word from the desk is he apparently is dead now. Poor bastard.]

[UPDATE #2: Well now, rumor has it that Maust DIDN'T finish the job but is brain dead. Thing is, he's in a Catholic hospital, so it'll be interesting to see whether or not they pull the plug or not. Poor bastard.]
Posted by Broad7:44 PM
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Bitter? I hardly know her
Is it entirely too cynical of me to think that, as I watched this group of kids at a school board meeting defend a program that's undergone big funding cuts, that they were just dorks looking for a place to belong*!?? Or am I merely observing the fact that of all people under the age, say, 18, one-millionth of a percent of them aren't completely socially retarded!??
Posted by Broad3:46 AM
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Krispy Kreme was a good idea, too, except when it wasn’t
Just checked the competition's Web site before hitting the sack, and what do you know!?? It's going to have an interview with the guvner about his refusal to give out STIFs for retail.


Oh, no, that's perfectly cool -- especially when the story they use to introduce it was a story I did several months ago on how sporting goods chain Gander Mountain has been actively campaigning to keep states from giving STIFs when it never asked for nor received that incentive. Even funnier, SO DID THE COMPETITION. So now, it's repeating itself to catch up. And sure, the editors over there may have had the interview planned all along. It still doesn't excuse repeating a story as if it's a first-run.

Man, I would've hated to be the reporter who biffed it originally. Ooof. And I like her, too.

Incidentally, I was talking to a source of mine about STIFs today, and he brought up an interesting point: Daniels and the IEDC don't want to give STIF for retail because it's not bringing in new money to the state, just shifting it around. And that's cool. There's only one problem: STIFs are good only when there's sales tax to be had, and retail is the only industry that generates it (at least to the degree it needs to make it work, anyway; I'm not sure how much sales tax is generated by manufacturing, for example).

Now, I didn't necessarily have a problem with granting STIFs for retail, because (after the way it works was explained to me for the fifth or sixth time before I understood it) it's a good economic development vehicle, and one that Lake County could use. The problem I have with it is that now that there's a Cabela's planned for Hoffman Estates, Ill., which is no more than two hours from NWI on a good day, and other sporting behemoth Bass Pro Shop planned for Portage -- not to mention a Cabela's in Milwaukee already, which is about three hours from here -- you've just saturated the market, and one of them is going to choke, taking with it at least some of the 300 to 400 jobs they promised to bring. One only has to look at Krispy Kreme to see that; when we got the one in Schererville, everyone was all apeshit over it (with good reason, of course, because mmmmm ... Krispy Kreme ...). But then Krispy Kreme went into uber expansion mode, and now, I can get one at the gas station up the street. True, I'm not getting my free hot doughnut when I run to Speedway, but the ones I buy from the Krispy Kreme to take home aren't warm and gooey, either, so what's my impetus to drive 15 minutes anymore?

Damn. Now I want a doughnut.
Posted by Broad7:25 AM
Friday, January 06, 2006
Oh, D.Ceeeeeee … I’m WAITING …
Our guvner comes out and says we're not giving the incentive NWI needs to bring the alleged economic savior on our trodden ground, and you're hyped up over unfunded liability!??

Homie, where's the love!??

Even better: The competition, which has spent inches and inches of ink devoted to wooing Cabela's so that it'll maybe advertise with them if it comes to towncovering Cabela's DIDN'T EVEN MENTION THE NEWS IN ITS STORY. I LOVE when that happens. Sigh.

After the jump, my work of staggering news acumen:
Posted by Broad3:21 PM
Friday, December 30, 2005
Elected officials are funny
Seems I can't go anywhere anymore without someone whining to my editors about it: I was covering a Lake Station Council meeting the other night, and it was running rather long. What do I mean by long? It started at 6 p.m., and when I left at 10 p.m., THERE WERE STILL TWO ITEMS ON THE AGENDA. Well, as I left (and I'm sure shortly before while I was sitting there), I let out more than a few disgusted sighs in protest. And a couple people who my editor swore she wouldn't divulge (though I bet I know who they are) called to complain that my behavior was "inappropriate."


First of all, my editor and I laughed about it before I promised to refrain from showing my disgust at meetings, so please don't think that calling them will get me in trouble; in fact, if anyone details my behavior to them, it's usually ME, so really, you're just wasting your breath. But let's look, shall we, at the councilmen's behavior for a moment -- is it really appropriate for them to call a 35-minute recess during a meeting already in progress so that two of them can go to another meeting that they said was going to take only 15 minutes!?? Is it also fair of them to belabor a point for 10, 15 minutes on the money for the park equipment during the meeting, when they could, oh, I don't know, wait until it's been adjourned!?? Keep in mind, folks, that I wasn't the only person waiting for them to finish the hell up -- hell, the mayor herself left at 9:45 p.m. because she's diabetic and had to get something to eat. And let's not forget when one of the councilmen asked the council president to explain something he'd said and he, out of frustration with having to repeat for the fifth or sixth time, told her to "get the cotton out of her ears" right there in front of the public. But they're going to complain about me expressing my disgust!?? Ooooooo-kaaaaay. You do that.
Posted by Broad2:16 PM
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It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...

The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.


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