Barrett Brown, the former self-proclaimed Anonymous spokesman, has been tagged with 12 more federal charges, Wilonsky reports. (See we can all get along! D and the Morning News! Best fwends!)
According to the indictment, handed down this week, Brown’s new charges include one count of traffic in stolen authentication features, one count of access device fraud, and 10 counts of identity theft. Tim broke down Brown’s initial arrest back in September, and then Brown wrote us a few letters. The indictment is after the jump.
I don’t get to say this very often. I’ve lived through Eddy Curry, Jerome James, and entire Bleacher Report slideshows dedicated to “New York Knicks: The 10 Worst Draft Picks of the Past Decade,” which imply that there has been (on average) a terrible draft pick every year for 10 straight years.
But maybe things are turning around, and that’s why I get to say: I’m excited. I’m happy. Knicks basketball is fun again. And I have Dallas to thanks for that, mostly.
“It really feels like that, with the depth, the chemistry, the veteran leadership, the shooters,” Tyson Chandler told CBS Sportsline, about the similarities between the 2010-2011 Mavericks and the 2012-2013 Knicks. “And we have to really believe. The moment I signed [in Dallas], I promise you, I told my family, ‘We’re going to win a championship, and at minimum, we’re going to make it to the Western Conference finals.’ And I felt the same way once this group came together. With that team in Dallas, we started to believe as the season went along. The moment I walked in, I told all of them: ‘Prepare for a long season. We’re going all the way, and we have to have a mindset to do it, no matter what obstacles get in our way.’ And it’s the same thing with this team.”
Jason Kidd chimed in, too.
“The star players, Dirk and Melo, tops in the world. The pieces are very similar,” he said. “When we played defense to start the season off that year, we started to believe that we could win that way and it just snowballed. Hopefully, it’s the same thing here.”
So maybe cheer for the Knicks with me? Thanks.
The U.S. House voted Wednesday to remove the word “lunatic” from the Federal Code. It was a move that was a long time coming, one that’s been pushed and supported by the American Psychiatric Association, the American Counseling Association, and the National Association of School Psychologists. In sum: it’s not a great thing to call someone.
“The term ‘lunatic’ derives from the Latin word for moon,” said Texas Republican and Judiciary Committee Chairman Lamar Smith, on the House floor Wednesday. “Before the modern era, it was used to describe a person who suffers from mental disease because of the belief that lunar cycles have an impact on brain function. But as science and medicine have progressed, society has come to understand mental illness with more clarity.”
There was one, completely reasonable dissenting opinion, from Tyler Representative and Tea Party firebrand Louie Gohmert.
“Not only should we not eliminate the word ‘lunatic’ from federal law when the most pressing issue of the day is saving our country from bankruptcy, we should use the word to describe the people who want to continue with business as usual in Washington,” Gohmert said in an e-mail to Bloomberg.Â Gohmert is also the person who claimed Hamas was sending women to the United States to have “terror babies” who could then come back to the United States and blow up buildings and humans.
I just wish there was a word for someone with that kind of irrational thinking.
Seriously. This is ridiculous. You don’t care about it. For the other seven people, though, after the jump you can read about how Tod Robberson apparently got his feelings hurt and went running to his bosses to defend him against my mean-spirited, totally unfair, nasty, horrible attack.
In honor of this weekend’s “Metro PCS Dallas Marathon, brought to you by MetroPCS” I thought a running game might be appropriate. Today’s game is called Please Stop Running, which is, coincidentally, my exercise mantra. OurÂ protagonistÂ is a Run Lola Run-esque character, and you have to jump and slide and shoot nuclear waste maybe? I’m not very good at video games.
Oh, and good luck to our Laura Kostelny, who’s running Sunday.
Man, I love that a photographer decided to train her lens on the whole Texas tradition of homecoming mums. I also love how foreign of a concept this is to the New York-born Bradford Pearson. Time to dig all of mine out from the back of a closet somewhere.
I don’t know about you guys, but it’s a been a crazy week. I’m finally getting around to seeing On the EveÂ at the Margo Jones theater in Fair Park tonight, and since I’ve only heard good things, I’m quite looking forward to this homegrown rock musical. Dallas’ Home By Hovercraft wrote the music, with help from actor and Kitchen Dog Company member Michael Frederico, and the plot concerns the very nearly true story about Marie Antoinette and the world’s first-ever time machine. I could use one of those. Anyway, it’s all presented with help from Nouveau 47, a troupe committed to presenting new works.
After the show, it’s pretty much party time. Back in July, I talked a little about the Green Bandana Group, a hyperactive bunch of planners and doers, and their latest community-building enterprise, #popUPdallas. As part of that, they’ve decided to throw a party every Friday night until the end of the year–barring the Mayan apocalypse, of course. This first Ash Friday, as they’re calling it, takes place at their Fair Park studio and celebrates the birthdays of “two of the most stylish gentlemen in Dallas” (spoiler alert: one of them is an insanely talented professional jazz musician and my former prom date, Jonathan Merla). The theme of “Post Paris,” whatever that means to you. Expect a keg (though feel free to BYOB), art, projections, and a bonfire.
Do you do the Elf on a Shelf thing? At my house, we do. Or, rather, my wife does. The elf has a name: Blueberry Jackson. When Blueberry Jackson made his arrival this year, he tracked in a Hefty bag worth of leaves through the living room. Because apparently that’s what elves do.
Which is why I think this is hysterical. Thank you, Alice Laussade. For that last photo alone, you have earned a place in the pantheon.
Last night, I did something I swore I’d never do. I met Dallas Morning News Metro columnist Steve Blow. The reason I swore I’d never meet Steve Blow is because everyone I’ve ever talked to who has worked with the guy has told me what a swell dude he is. Over the years, I have written some very critical things about Steve Blow’s work. And I want to continue to write very critical things about Steve Blow’s work. (And here, by “critical,” I mean “snarky” and “mean” and “aggressively insulting.”) It’s hard to throw brickbats at people after you’ve met them and learned how nice they are.
So last night I went to this party, and the first person I saw when I walked through the door was Steve Blow. I put my head down and beat a path to the other side of the room, where I found a friend and told him, “Oh, God, please help me. Steve Blow is here and I need to avoid him at all costs.” Steve Blow had spotted me, though, and he spent the next hour or so deftly maneuvering his way through the party in such a way that I had no escape route. It was like a one-man half-court trap. Eventually he had me against the baseline with nowhere to go. I tried to throw the ball off his shins, but even that didn’t work. He just caught it and smiled warmly at me.
We shook hands, and I explained why meeting him caused me great pain. You know what? It was exactly as I feared. He couldn’t have been more friendly and magnanimous. Also, he’s taller than I am.
I truly hate that man.
Warning: unless you work at a depraved office like I do, the language in this video is incredibly NSFW. Still, it’s worth it just to get to the end (starts at 1:50) where dude shows his true roots and starts rhyming about Highland Park and St. Mark’s. Shot last night on Lower Greenville.
Ick ick ick, I can’t believe I just typed those. The price we pay for our work.
It’s not that I’m above regional accents; far from it. I keep the New York in me mostly hidden, unless bourbon and the wrong side of midnight are involved, which now that I think about it isn’t that rare. BUT even then it’s mostly relegated to a few cauuuufees and I’m on my way. It’s an accent I pick back up every holiday season in Poughkeepsie, when my grandmother asks when I’ll be home again and I get sad and I’m forced to hang out with people named Pizzarelli and Lomuscio at local bars.
Though this is a tradition I’m completely unfamiliar with, DFW-based photographer Nancy Newberry’s latest project involves shooting the biggest freaking homecoming corsages you could imagine.
Artificial, shiny and virtually unknown outside of Texas, the Homecoming Mum is an elaborate corsage, exchanged between friends and lovers. They are ritually worn and subsequently immortalized, tacked to bedroom walls as trophies. Â At a time when many American high schoolers seem purposefully disengaged from the world around them, the Mum constitutes both a unique act of cultural immersion and a specific brand of folk art.
Anyway, the photographs are beautiful.
With no idea where Bradford is or why he hasn’t yet fulfilled his Friday Leading Off duty, your humble servant boldly rises to the challenge:
Gordon Keith Writes Pretty About Oswald’s Tub. If you think Gordon is just an AM radio yuk monkey, read his op-ed today about Oswald’s old bathtub, which was recently put up for sale. Given that setup, you might think the piece would be all jokes and fun times. Nope. It’s a lyrical, serious, sad story about the tiny apartment that Lee Harvey and Marina once shared. Because the story lies behind a paywall, here’s a snippet:
Oswald beat her there. Multiple times. They argued over former lovers, baked beans, unzipped dresses and whatever other pretext could ease them into their drama. Despite a love life that was intermittent and not always consensual, Marina Oswald got pregnant with their second child there, which made her sad and him hopeful because he wanted a son. It would be another daughter.
After one fight, she tried to commit suicide in the bathroom there, standing on the toilet with a rope formerly used to hang the baby’s clothes on, now to hang the baby’s mother. He stopped her.
Oswald, untrusting of his wife’s parenting and being a surprisingly loving father, volunteered, or probably insisted, that he bathe 1-year-old “Junie.” This presidential assassin, who mauled our American history and put scars on our city that we are just now covering over with arts districts and highway parks, used to climb into that tub with a splashing baby and her floating toys and play. For all his deformities of mind and spirit, he truly loved his child in a way he didn’t and couldn’t love anyone else. And it happened in that tub.
Dude writes better than 95 percent of the trained journalists who work at that paper.
Mysterious Bright Flash Seen in North Texas Sky. Something strange happened early this morning. From WFAA: “Justin Wagoner, who lives in the White Rock Lake area, said he saw a green trail and heard a large ‘sonic boom’ around the same time.” No idea why they put “sonic boom” in quotes. Do they think that’s slang or something?
Former Fat Man No Longer So Fat. Eighteen months ago, Andy Axsom weighed 385 pounds and had body mass index over 50 percent. That, friends, is morbidly obese. Today he weighs in at 250, and he’s going to run the Dallas Marathon. We’re with you, Andy.