Archive for June, 2011

The tough guy mobster was all weak-kneed for the whipped cream!

When notorious Boston mobster and public enemy #1, 81-year old Whitey Bulger was captured last week in Santa Monica where he had been on the lam for 15 years, many were shocked and surprised. But one person was not: Tim Ergskins, the barista working the Starbucks on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica.

“The old dude was a regular,” said the young cappuccino slinger. “Like clockwork, every morning at 8:20, he and his old lady would come strong with the same order: vente triple-shot skinny latte, no foam, and a grande caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream. That old gangsta surely liked him some whipped cream, he did.”

Ergskins, a six year veteran in the caffeine wars, said he was suspicious about Bulger from the beginning. “The guy didn’t talk much, but when he did, he said mobby things like, ‘Do it, punk, or I’ll kill ya, ya dirty rat!’ Or, ‘Why, I oughta give you some concrete shoes and a nice swim in the ocean.’ Or, ‘Wise guy, huh? Howzabout I give you some extra lead in your diet?!’ I mean, it was kind of creepy how aggressive the old coot could get.”

The 27-year old barista shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “I should have known something was up, but Bulger always tipped a crisp $100 bill into the jar. I just figured he appreciated my art. It’s weird.”

Osama bin Laden had unfulfilled wishes before he kicked it.

In the stash of info and porn gathered from Osama bin Laden’s crib/compound on May 1, a rare insight into the madman was released today: his official personal bucket list.

In a world exclusive, The Lint Screen is pleased to present it in its entirety. (NOTE: The original list was in the angry kook’s handwriting, which was atrocious, on note paper that had leprechauns riding unicorns beneath vibrant-colored rainbows.)


1. To play Nathan Detroit in a Broadway production of “Guys And Dolls” or Tony in “West Side Story.” I know I can nail “Somewhere.”
2. Enroll in DeVry and get that degree in neuroscience or vinyl repair.
3. Eat 24 White Castles.
4. Get some killer porn– something with Debbie Reynolds maybe.
5. Start a new terrorist club: The Carefree Kidz
6. See the Grand Canyon. Blow it up.
7. Get a better driver’s license picture, one that doesn’t make me look so fat.
8. Appear on “Dancing With Stars,” tango like there’s no tomorrow.
9. Guest host for Leno.
10. Direct a feature.
11. Shake hands with Bono, sing “Pride: In The Name of Love.”
12. Defy gravity just once.
13. See Eiffel Tower. Blow it up.
14. Learn some bitchin’ guitar licks, shred like crazy.
15. Cut off this damned beard. Itches like fiberglass insulation with itching powder in it.
16. Find a wounded bird. Step on it.
17. Play the slots at Wynne, catch Garth Brooks, eat a steak and don’t even count calories!!!
18. See all the wonders of the world. Blow them up.
19. Work with Woody Allen or Adam West.
20. What was that noise I just heard? Is there someone in the house? It’s the middle of the night for pete’s sake. Are those soldiers? What are they doing here…

Think of the saddest tearjerker movie you’ve ever seen, now prepare for it to become #2 on the soggy hankie list.

The documentary Inside Job is a must-see film about the financial meltdown that crippled the world thanks to the piggy greed of fat cat pin stripers on Wall Street and in the government.

It's all they can eat, and we'll pick up the tab.

When a country allows five financial lobbyists for every politician and $5 billion in annual lobbying funds, what else could we expect but the best politicians money can buy?

There’s plenty of evil bastards to blame: financial firm scumbags, shady politicians in the pockets of lobbyists and academics getting their palms greased to concoct and support the tools for raping the public to benefit the rich.

Inside Job brilliantly shows us how we’ve gotten to the place we are today–– with 1% of the nation’s population controlling 23% of its wealth.

There are heroes in this movie; people who spoke and wrote and questioned the madness that was going on, all to no avail. Reason lost out to greed; the greed of financial firms to gamble, the greed of politicians to allow the rules to change to protect the greedy and the greed of the public to actually believe they could get something for nothing (or next to nothing).

None of it would have been possible had the laws not been changed and had regulation been enforced. But it wasn’t. We let Alan Greenspan and the Wall Street goons lead us down an ideological path to the guillotines.

The fix was in–– the bastards won, our economy almost collapsed and the public bailed out all those responsible.

The saddest part of all is this: nothing’s really changed except that we’ve had our coffers raped. The rich are richer. Too big to fail is now super-sized too big to fail. Politicians are still funded shills for our corporate overlords.

Inside Job lays it all out and you can see many of the worst elements of our society on camera actually trying to support their cases. In the end, we’ve all been played for suckers, and while I’d love to say this is a movie that could never be made again, I’m afraid such is not the case.

As Charles Ferguson, the filmmaker said in his Academy Awards acceptance speech for best documentary, “Not one of these guys is in jail yet.” And the very same people responsible for much of the robbery are still empowered in government, still lobbying, still playing three card monty with bad debt. We can all sleep well knowing the foxes are guarding the hen house.

Cry, America. Cry enough to wring your hankie because your wallet’s already been wrung dry.

I have a new identity, one for serving slabs o' justice.

One day it shows up unannounced, like an obnoxious person you knew from college that you had hoped you’d never see again.

It’s a summons for jury duty; your civic duty for being a counted by the census.

I had served once before, 15 years ago. Here in Gwinnett County, Georgia, jury duty could be as long as a week. Every night I must call to see if I’m required to show up the next day. In my previous experience, I did. It was one long week and the only trial I heard was a fender bender.

I lobbied hard for the death penalty, to no avail.

So here I was again, 8 A.M. Monday. There were over 250 citizens dutifully processed and filed into the large holding room. The officials got us organized into batches of 12. That organization process took three full hours.

I was juror #17 and had the pleasure of being seated in front of two women who chattered on and on throughout the morning. One woman (juror #47) was loud, the other (juror #48) spoke in whispered tones that I couldn’t really hear. Perhaps a neighborhood dog heard her.

Juror #47 is in her early 60s, with black hair. She wore a white cotton pants suit, a blue blouse, tan flats, a blue canvas hat with flowers and tinted prescription glasses.

Juror #48 is about the same age, taller and stouter in brown polyester slacks, a white top, brown flats and a magnificent doo of bright blond hair. What follows are some of the things I heard coming out of juror #47’s active mouth:

“Timothy Geithner got his job in the Obama administration because because his parents were friends with Barack’s mother.”

“Barack was put into power by George Soros, who is his puppet master.”

Juror #47 (on left) tells secrets at day's end.

“The Democrats don’t want to bring down debt, ever! They just want to tax and hurt small businesses.”

“Soros wants to make the dollar worth ten cents. He wants to topple the U.S. He’s done it to other countries.”

“All this pay to teachers and social security and medicare is a big Ponzi scheme.”

“Glenn Beck predicted the leftist activists would cause troubles in the mideast, and look what happened. Rioting in Greece– something’s going on. The left is sending activists to the middle east. All this trouble going on, then it clicked in my head– Glenn said so, too! They’re trying to keep it a secret, but Glenn was waking people up.”

“A lot of people couldn’t handle what Glenn was saying so they stopped watching him, but it was true. Then Soros put out a contract on Glenn. Glenn knew it and said it. Glenn had such courage!”

“You know, that old show ‘The Twilight Zone’– it predicted a lot of this mess. I miss that show. I wish that guy who hosted it hadn’t smoked himself to death. We could use him today!”

“Obama promised everything to everybody and it’s just deceit. The press protected him, but Glenn Beck told the truth.”

“That Michele Bachmann is amazing. Has her own kids plus 20-some foster kids and she’s in politics– how’s she do it all?!”

“The people advising Obama don’t know what they’re talking about. Herman Cain said he’d pick the right people!”

“No matter who the Republicans put up for president, the dems will dig up dirt on them. That’s what they do.”

“The democrats have made this country a laughingstock.”

“A lot of people in this country have no idea what’s really going on.”

“That’s what I liked about Glenn. He said, ‘Do your own research!’, and I did.”

“George Soros is the puppet master. He wants it left, then pulls it to the center. I’ve watched it over and over again, but now I have insider information. Soros pulls all the strings.”

So it went for a couple hours. I never knew how much I didn’t know.

After three long hours of sitting and playing musical chairs to get assigned numbers and batched in dozens, four groups of 12 were ushered into a courtroom where we faced the judge, an assistant district attorney, a defendant and his two attorneys plus a court reporter who talked into some contraption. The judge was a Georgian with a heavy accent and a propensity to mumble. I didn’t hear much of what he said. Maybe that neighborhood dog did.

The gist of our case involved marijuana. We were asked a series of questions from the prosecutor and defense attorney:
“Have you ever smoked marijuana?”
“Do you think it should be legalized?”
“If you do think it should be legalized, could you follow the judge’s instructions to obey Georgia law that says no amount of marijuana is legal– could you prosecute by the letter of the law?”
“Do you know or are you related to any law enforcement officers?”
“Do you believe that Rod Serling and Glenn Beck are angels of truth and that George Soros and Barack Obama are devils of destruction?”

O.K., I made that last question up. Sorry.

Sign outside the courtroom. I wonder what the long umbrella incident was. Anyone have any guesses?

This round of questioning with all 48 potential jurors went on for a good 20 minutes. The first batch of 12 were asked to stay for further questioning while the rest of us got a lunch break.

I believe Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall famously said, “One cannot be judgmental on an empty stomach. Hey, uh, you going to eat the rest of that sandwich, or what?”

After lunch, we reassembled in the big room we’d lived in all morning, then my group of 12 was ushered back to court and into the official juror’s box. Comfy chair, padded with good leaning action. A juror could fall in love here.

Each of us was asked questions by attorneys and the judge. When it came my turn, they confirmed that I had responded marijuana should be legalized. They explained that under Georgia law, any amount of marijuana is considered illegal. Could I follow the judge’s instruction and prosecute on the basis of the law? Good question. I told the truth that while I’d like to believe I could follow the letter of the law, I felt that too much energy, time and money was wasted on these type of cases. There are more important things we should be focused on instead of pot violations. This perspective would naturally have to influence my ability to prosecute to the full extent of the law. There were nods given by questioners, and notes taken.

After a half hour of questioning, we 12 were taken back to the big room to wait another hour while two more batches of potential jurors went through hot box grilling.

Finally, seven hours after my arrival, the 48 potential jurors were brought back to the courtroom and 12 were selected as OFFICIAL jurors to serve on this post trial. I was not selected. Jurors #47 and #48 didn’t make the grade, either.

Perhaps George Soros had them black-balled.

We were dismissed and I left the courtroom. In front of me, Juror #47 found a new friend to tell her political secrets to.

Now, every night this week, I must call in to see if I am required to show up for another round on “Who gets to be a juror?!”

Today, I’m free, but I know so much more than I did yesterday. Justice was served.

Clarence Clemons is dead at age 69. Nicknamed The Big Man, he stood 6′ 5″ and weighed-in at 270. Pity his pall bearers. Pity us fans.

His mighty lungs were the engine room of Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band. When he picked up his mighty tenor sax, the walls of Jericho protecting the human core shook and crumpled as emotions were laid bare and spirits were lifted to the heavens. The solo Clarence plays in “Jungleland” is testament to his greatness.

With breath and finger movement, he picked our bones clean.

I had the pleasure of seeing him perform with the Boss at least 10 times. Over the years the band lost some of its intensity, but the E Streeters always delivered the goods. Front and center in my memory banks is the band in its glory days on the “Darkness” tour, playing Richfield Coliseum outside of Cleveland. I managed to get free admission to be a security person for the show. Originally, my task was to check purses for booze and weapons, but I talked my way into a better detail– guarding the rows of seats behind the stage to keep fans away.

As the concert started, I settled into my post in one of the seats on the edge of the vacancy zone and watched the show. Springsteen and the E Street Band were at their peak, and I had a fabulous seat.

And Clarence, Clarence just blew us all away.

Thanks, Big Man. With your lungs, I doubt you’ll be issued a harp in heaven.

He's fed up playing with losers. LeBron wants a ring.

In an exclusive The Lint Screen interview, Miami Heat megastar LeBron James said he wants to play for the Dallas Mavericks next year. The Mavericks beat the Heat on Sunday to become the NBA’s championship team.

“LeBron is a champion,” said James who recently began referring to himself in the third person for dramatic effect, “and LeBron deserves to play for a championship team. LeBron left Cleveland for Miami to be a champion, but that was a failed experiment. LeBron is very disappointed in the crappy performance of his teammates. They disappointed LeBron and his finger feels naked with no championship ring. LeBron liked what he saw of the Mavericks and thinks he can be happy there, so LeBron is open to moving again. If Dallas makes LeBron an incredible offer, LeBron will get an hour TV special and contemplate it, then give his decision. That is how LeBron rolls.”

There were no comments from Mavericks officials, but Miami fans wish him the worst.