News
God prefers SOS pads
Bill Hobbs is no longer just spewing taxophobic, anti-government screeds as a blogger and official state GOP flack. He’s now offering theological instruction too. When Gov. Phil Bredesen said that Tennessee’s tornado damage “looks like the Lord took a Brillo pad and scrubbed the ground,” it set Hobbs off. In a blog post, he lectured the governor.
“Whatever church Bredesen attends must teach a very depressing theology,” Hobbs wrote. (Cue the heart-swelling, patriotic music.) “God wasn’t in the storms Tuesday night, governor. He is in the outpouring of help for the victims that got underway before the last raindrops fell and the last of the winds died down. He is in the comfort and support the families who lost people are receiving from family, friends and neighbors. He was in the otherwise inexplicable sheltering of dozens of college students so that none died when their dorms collapsed....
“He wasn’t in the tornados.”
No, God wasn’t in the twisters, but Hobbs would probably say his blog post is full of God’s influence. Meanwhile, we can think of something he’s full of.
The art of denial
Oh, poor forgetful Fisk University. School officials there have spent the last two years begging the Davidson County Chancery Court to let them sell artwork from the Alfred Stieglitz Collection, which Georgia O’Keeffe gave to the school in 1949. Chancellor Ellen Hobbs Lyle ruled last June that Fisk couldn’t pawn any of the works, explicitly outlining that the art “was not given to Fisk to use as a source of revenue.” Fisk apparently didn’t get the memo. Instead, the financially flailing school has hedged its entire fiscal fate on pimping out the artwork. And they asked Lyle yet again for the legal right to sell out—er, sell off the collection—this time to Wal-Mart heiress Alice L. Walton, who was hoping to showcase the art six months a year in her museum in podunk Arkansas. Last Friday, Lyle again told Fisk officials what they should’ve already known by now: They can’t sell the art. Still, the Fisk folks aren’t getting the hint. Fisk spokesman Ken West told The Tennessean that the school was going to fight to sell the art “until it is no longer pragmatic or practical to do so.”
Joints and jalopies
It turns out driving a hunk of junk can do more than just ruin your reputation, particularly if you’re operating a small-time drug cartel. Melvin Robert Gibson Jr. was cruising along Wedgewood Avenue in his 1986 Chevy pickup truck last week when a Metro cop pulled him over for driving with a noisy muffler. When the 31-year-old Donelson man rolled down his window to speak with the officer, it quickly became clear that the roar coming from his rust bucket was the least of his problems.
An odor of marijuana wafted out of the jalopy, prompting the cop to ask whether the driver was smoking pot. Police say Gibson admitted he had a joint on him and pointed to his pants pocket. After cuffing the suspect, the officer says he searched the truck and found a pill bottle containing six joints and a shoebox with two pounds of marijuana separated into plastic baggies.
After the suspected reefer retailer’s arrest, Metro Police Chief Ronal Serpas proclaimed, “This case is an example of the criminal violations our officers detect after making a traffic stop for something as simple as a loud muffler.” A bit of advice for all those half-baked criminals driving around in buckets of bolts: Get a tune-up.
Beggars beware
As we predicted (“Outlawing Poverty,” Feb. 7), Mayor Karl Dean has let the Metro Council’s anti-panhandling ordinance become law without his signature—even though his own law department says the measure is probably unconstitutional. The mayor just couldn’t bring himself to veto it, which would have pissed off too many downtown businesses. Remind us why we elected this guy? Before Dean let the measure become law, its Metro Council sponsors apparently promised to amend the bill at some time in the future to target only so-called aggressive panhandling, which of course is already prohibited.
Until
that happens, if it ever does, it’s beggars beware. If anyone asks for
help after dark anywhere in the city, he or she will be subject to a
$50 fine. In the winter, the cutoff is around 5:30 or 6 at night. At
other times of the year, it’s different. Our best advice is to check
the sky to tell whether it’s OK to ask for help without breaking the
law. We’re certain that this ordinance will be applied equally, not
just against those who look a little down on their luck.
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