The poor senator was criticized after saying Hurricanes Katrina and Rita occurred because God is dismayed about all the “gambling, sin, and wickedness” on the Gulf Coast. The Big Guy – God, not Erwin – apparently was so displeased that he passed judgment in the form of death-dealing winds and rain. You’d think losing your savings account at the casino, contracting herpes from the streetwalker, and ruining your liver through strong drink would be payback aplenty for those who take part in said sins. Nope, God apparently wanted lots of innocents as well to lose their homes, pets, jobs, and lives.
Naturally, Static is wracked with guilt – did its trip to a Shreveport casino a few years ago send God over the edge? I mean, if He was so displeased, why didn’t he just rain hell and damnation on the jerk who hit 16 at the blackjack table and drew a jack that would have given, um, the guy to his left a much-needed 21 with $100 on the table?
If gambling and its related forms of vice are the forerunners of hurricane-induced Armageddon, then Fort Worth better pay up on its burial policies. After all, we’ve got those senior citizens playing eight-liner machines out on Jacksboro Highway. A city full of bingo parlors. That brazen woman down in Burleson selling d-i-l-d-o-s to housewives. We can feel the water rising now. But until it does, roll those bones. Daddy needs a new pair of hip waders.
A Baaad Case of Hat Hair
Texan Howard Woolridge, on the other hand, probably needs a pillow. He reached New York City’s Battery Park on Oct. 5, the end of a 3,400-mile, seven-month horseback trek from Los Angeles to publicize the fight being waged by his organization against the drug war. Woolridge, who helped organize Law Enforcement Against Prohibition (LEAP) in 2002, was met by a couple of tv crews, the New York Times, and other reporter types. An expected appearance on Good Morning America didn’t pan out, however: “The producer took one look at me on a horse and heard that I was an ex-cop and was going to talk about drug legalization and that was it. He was gone.” Still, he’s convinced that his feat helped educate millions of people about “the horror of the drug war.”
Woolridge will soon turn in his well-worn “Cops Say Legalize Drugs” t-shirts for a suit and tie. He’s planning to move from Fort Worth to Washington, D.C., to become LEAP’s lobbyist against drug prohibition. “But I’m not giving up my cowboy hat,” he said with a laugh. “That’s part of me now. I’ve earned it.”
