Buffalo BEAST - Buffalo's New Best Fiend

August 10 - 24, 2005
Issue #81

  ..Buffalo's Best Fiend
The BEAST 25 Most Loathsome Buffalonians
Queen City Loathing

Legislative Juice
Palmiero Charged for War Crimes
Matt Taibbi

Here Comes the Sun
But it's Not All Right
Alexander Zaitchik
A Mighty Wind
Green Power Threatens Corporations
Kit Smith

Tough All Over
Upstate Sucks; No One Cares

Shawn Ewald


Ohio Player
An Interview with Rep. Sherrod Brown
Matt Taibbi


Bush Names New Planet "Little Arbusto"
N Sorrentl


God Hates Boy Scouts
Scott Wagner

The BEAST Blog
Buffalo in Briefs
The Sports Blotter
The Week in Sports Crime
Page 3
Separated at Birth?
Kino Korner: Movies
[sic] - Letters
 Cover Page

Idiot Box
Perry Bible Fellowship
Bob the Angry Flower

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The Sports Blotter by Matt Taibbi


Poor O.J., trapped as he is in the great space-time Mobius strip that is man's eternal and ultimately fruitless quest for justice, has, as the world knows, been spending most of the last decade searching for Nicole and Ron's killers on the golf courses of the world. It is a tough life, and recently got tougher: word leaked out last week that police had to be called to his Miami home to settle a domestic disturbance. The catch? In this case O.J. was the one being beat up, not his girlfriend. According to "O.J. friend" Steve Dockendorf (the position of "O.J. friend" may eventually acquire an accepted legal definition, like amicus curiae -- amicus juicae, maybe), O.J.'s "on-again, off-again" girlfriend, Christine Prody, went completely bonkers when O.J. reached into her car to retrieve a bag of stuff the former football player claims she boosted from his house.

"He reached into her car to get the bag and that's when she went crazy on him," Dockendorf said. "She was like a wild animal."

The altercation occurred at Dockendorf's house, where O.J. and Prody had gone to pick up a battery charger. When the wild animal slapped and scratched O.J., the amicus OJ called 911, at which point the girl allegedly went after Dockendorf.

Police came and broke the situation up. In a move that must have horrified O.J., police elected not to file charges against the woman. Talk about an insult. In the old days, O.J. could have taken care of this matter himself -- just throw on a frogman costume, grab a butcher knife, and go to work -- but now, he not only has to take this stuff from women, he has to sit back while the police don't do anything. Is there no justice?



The last few weeks have been something of a rehabilitation period for the major headline-grabbers of the pro sports crime scene. Kobe Bryant's image appeared in a Nike ad, which may represent the biggest endorsement coup for a former suspected felon since Ray Lewis scored his EA deal. Ricky Williams returned to Miami Dolphins training camp brandishing an elegant agent-drafted apology and wearing a gentle, I-read-Siddhartha, Dick Gregory-style beard. He vowed to stop smoking herb and generally said all the right things, as did Miami coach Nick Saban -- who is doubtless at this very moment working the phones trying to unload Williams on Denny Green or Al Davis.



Welcome to the special retired NBA power forward segment of the Blotter, in which some of the storied hoop giants of off-field column inches reunite for a taste of the old days.


Our story begins in Frisco, Colorado, where Colorado traffic police last week were able finally to come up with an answer to the age old paradox of Platonic thought: what happens when the profit-driven permissiveness of the reality television era are wedded to the personal death spiral of fading NBA celebrity Dennis Rodman?

Answer: a ticket for recklessly driving 98 in a 60 zone in a brand-new Lamborghini in downtown Frisco. Apparently Rodman was taking part in a new Reality Show called "The Bullrun," whose absurd web site (www.bullrun.com; check it out and, for fun, try to guess the target audience, observing esp. the pop-up ads for Hot Wheels cars) explains its entertainment mission as follows:

“The Bullrun is the most glamorous and high-profile of the new breed of high-end luxury lifestyle automobile rallies.”

So the "Bullrun" is only the most glamorous of the high-end luxury automobile rallies? If Dennis Rodman is the kind of celebrity the "most glamorous" of these events attracts, who takes part in the others? Mary Lou Retton? Kurt Waldheim? Surely the world is coming to an end of this kind of thing is common.

According to police, Rodman was the leader of a fleet of luxury cars that inspired numerous police calls in the Frisco area. Colorado State Patrol Capt. Ron Prater denounced the TV show

“The reality is it’s just a free-for-all across the nation,” Prater said. “Basically this group has come just come across and disturbed the peace of our nice little community with just complete wanton disregard for anybody else.”

Colorado wasn't the only state that had Bullrun problems. Utah patrolmen reported sighting a group of luxury vehicles cruising at well over 100 mph on I-80 outside Salt Lake, while Nevada State police issued over 20 citations. Nevada troopers told reporters of extremely bizarre highway behavior, including "slowing and blocking traffic and then speeding up, two cars running side by side, someone trying to jump from one car to another, passing beer bottles between cars and throwing beer bottles at other cars."

Rodman was also involved in a crash somewhere in Western Colorado, but was unharmed. No word on when the show will air.



And then, in the No, This Really Isn't a Joke department, serial NBA underachiever Shawn Kemp, retired now for two years, has apparently been inspired by his recent cocaine arrest to attempt a comeback.

A recent profile of Kemp in the Chicago Tribune may yet stand as maybe the outstanding monument to jock egotism of our time. The story opens with the deliciously over-the-top image of Kemp, with 25-pound weights strapped this ankles, chugging to the summit of a hill in George Bush Park in Houston and planting two American flags in the ground. Shawn Kemp, warrior, patriot, smoker of the chronic and eater of Ho-Hos. And it only gets better from there, as the piece plays out like a cross between Rocky and the Ron Leflore Story.

Kemp is now attempting to use the press to enter a revisionist history of his career, one that blames the lockout of 1998 for his problems. He now says that he would never have become a cocaine addict and ballooned to 317 pounds (causing his then-team, the Cavaliers, to bench him for fear of heart attack) had it not been for the lockout. He claims now that, at 35, he'd still be an all-star if the work stoppage had never happened.

Kemp had other problems besides weight and cocaine. A Sports Illustrated cover story once identified him as the father of seven children by six different women. He also routinely quarreled with coaches, missed team flights, and had various run-ins in nightclubs around the country. Recently, before he decided on his comeback, he was arrested with longtime friend Gavin Jones when police searched his car and found a bag containing more than 60 grams of marijuana, 1.2 grams of cocaine, a stun gun, a 9-millimeter handgun, pepper spray and Piña Colada tobacco wraps, among other things. Kemp later claimed it was not his unregistered handgun, cocaine, marijuana, pepper spray, and stun gun, although police say he admitted to having smoked some of the marijuana.

After the arrest, Kemp apparently reexamined his lie. Now happily settled, he says, and enjoying being the father to his three sons Jamir, Jaman, and Jamal, Kemp wanted to "respect the game of basketball" by making a comeback. He announced last week that his recent arrest had inspired him to return to the NBA. No teams have asked him to try out yet; we'll keep you posted. Maybe Rodman can give him a ride to practice?



Perhaps realizing that there would be no room for them in the major sports pages this week (owing to the flood of "Lance Armstrong, Stalwart Hero To White People Everywhere" stories surging through the major dailies), America's higher-profile athletes have elected to avoid committing major felonies. Therefore the fort was instead held up by an outpouring of former hotshot college hoopsters, including yet another alumnus of the Arkansas Razorbacks program, which has been dominating the SEC crime sheet all year.

And so, another Arkansas Hog paid a visit to John Q. Law. Ron Huery, 38, was arrested last week on charges of rape, first-degree false imprisonment, third-degree domestic battery, and obstructing governmental operations. According to police, Huery forced a woman into his car, hit her, drove her to his apartment, raped her, and then threatened her before letting her go.

It was the latest chapter in what has already been a very sad story. Huery in 1994 was arrested on cocaine and DUI charges and sentenced to eight years probation. Eight years later, he still owed fines related to those charges-- so he pulled a Bundini Brown/Bill Johnson and sold his NCAA Final Four ring.

Huery is the third former Hog hoopster to be busted in as many months. Former Razorback Ali Thompson was arrested on felony battery charges last month, and in April, Hog guard Mike Jones, who played last year, was arrested on DUI charges.



Another former high-profile hoopster, onetime Lousiville Redbird Bryant Northern, was arrested last week in an unfortunate incident involving the burglary of a golf course and theft of a set of golf clubs.

We've all been there. You're hanging out late at night with a couple of buddies in Clark County, Indiana (including the son of the Jeffersonville police chief) when suddenly you get an urge to go hit some balls. You drive your friends to the nearest golf course, and sit back as the sheriff's son burglarizes the pro shop. Next thing you know, you're being arrested for felony aiding of a theft, and rung up on a probation violation stemming from your 2001 conviction for stealing and cashing the personal checks of a female neighbor. And all of this just completely screws up your mojo, because you were the 20th-leading scorer in the history of Louisville and well on your way to a career riding the pine as the 13th man in Split or Srebenica.

Now you're headed back to jail, and that dream is gone. Should have stuck to club soda, son!

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