The Lint Screen

Get a load of this: Mark Clavarella, a former juvenile court judge in Pennsylvania, was just convicted of racketeering in a scheme where he and another judge sent youth offenders to for-profit detention centers in exchange for a cool couple million bucks from the builders of the hoosegows.

Imagine that, a scumbag in robes throwing the book at kids as young as 10 so he can get his greedy palms greased.

Clavarella was notoriously harsh in his sentencing of youths. Now we know why: he had vacancies to fill.

The builder (a friend of Clavarella’s) and an attorney who co-owned the lockups were dishing fistfuls of cash to keep the young traffic coming to their crossbar motel.

And now that Clavarella’s been caught and convicted, what’s the penalty he’ll be paying to society? Maybe 12 years in prison. Is that justice?

No. This guy deserves life in prison for ruining so many young lives to pad his pockets. He’s like the scum Charles Dickens used to imagine in his novels. Minor drug offenders are serving more time than this bastard will. That’s not justice.

The United States has the highest incarceration rate in the world (3.1% of the population is on probation, behind bars or on parole) and I suspect it’s only going to get worse if we continue with this for-profit lockup racket. There’s too much money in the jailing business and too much temptation for sleazy, greedy guys like Clavarella.

Let’s see if we can’t get him some Madoff time. Oh, and while we’re at it, wouldn’t it be wonderful to throw some of the fatcats responsible for the financial meltdown to get some serious jail time? Any jail time?

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I think you went overboard in the your Oscar nomination love for The King’s Speech and True Grit.

Yes, both films were well made, acted, and directed, but 22 nominations between them is a bit much.

You should have slathered much more love on The Social Network, far and away the best film that I saw last year.

You could have shown a little more love for Black Swan and The Fighter, two fresh takes on the human condition.

But, you went and did what you usually do: bow down and curtsey for the period movie with British accents, and toss rose petals at the feet of talented filmmakers who are being recognized more for their past work that you ignored than their film being honored.

Oh, Hollywood, you are so predictable you deserve to give yourself an award for consistency.

Look at the top selling non-fiction hardcover books: George W’s memoirs of why he did what he did, the autobiography of Mark Twain, Sarah Palin’s Palinographic view of the world, Glenn Beck’s ranting and a little something called Life by some guy named Keith Richards (and his pal, James Fox).

I just finished Life, and if you have a passing interest in sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll, music, celebrity, adventure, philosophy, history, travel or just cooking tips for bangers and mash, you’ll want to give these 500-plus pages a go.

Keith is half of the Glimmer Twins, Jagger/Richards, the songwriting backbone of the Rolling Stones. He’s also the guy who has more lives than a dozen cats. And sounded a lot better doing it.

It’s a fascinating read of how young white English lads long to be black American bluesmen and how clever management and masterful media manipulation catapults them to fame and fortune. There’s the inevitable bouts with sex, jealousy, cheating on friends, and addiction to drugs, and how all these things conspire to take a man and his band to the brink. Most deadly of all, however, it’s the tale of how egos blossom and explode, choking the friendships of the past and almost laying waste to all in its path.

It’s all there, in surprising digestible prose.

Of course, this is only Keith’s side of the story, with lots of corroborating witnesses, and it will be interesting to see if Mick Jagger has any published rebuttal. For even a casual fan of rock, you’ll love the ride and marvel at the intricacies of a musician’s mind. Much like Bob Dylan’s Chronicles: Volume 1, it’s fascinating and enlightening to see what sponges these musical geniuses are. How they expose themselves to all forms of music and artistic expression, then create their own voices from the stew of all they’ve absorbed.

I’ve always been a Stones fan, and have been fortunate enough to have seen them a half dozen times, from their glory days in the 70’s, the inflatable theatrics days of the 80’s and 90’s, all the way through the stripped down brilliance of the A Bigger Bang tour in the 21st century. Throughout it all, there’s always been Keith Richards laying down some of the most iconic rock riffs with cool ease and a cigarette dropping from his lips. While some guitarists work hard to show you how incredibly difficult it is to play, Keith simply plays with poetic, idle ease. Life gives you a terrific peek behind what makes him tick and how he keeps on ticking.

Read it.

Not long ago, this year’s inductees into The Rock And Roll Hall of Fame were announced. Among them were three of my favorites: Alice Cooper, Donovan and Tom Waits.

An eclectic trio for sure.

My first exposure to a national recording act was seeing Alice Cooper in the fall of 1971 in Cleveland, Ohio (not far from where The Hall of Fame stands today). Alice and his band had just released their second album, “Killer”, and the rock show’s line-up was a stew of styles–– Sha-Na-Na, The J. Geils Band and Alice Cooper in full theatrical regalia and pyrotechnics. Alice taunted the crowd with his boa constrictor (literally) and was hung from the gallows. Not bad, eh?

Alice and his band were incredible performers, charismatic and infectious. The music was hard driving and testosterone-fueled. It was a hell of an introduction for rock shows and still stands in my top five of all time.

The last great concert I’ve attended was Tom Waits at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta. Like Alice, Waits is a masterful showman. He just uses less mascara and 100% fewer reptiles.

Waits is one of my favorite songwriters; a man who’s voice is distinctive and extremely polarizing. There are very few people I spend money to see these days. Tom Waits is definitely in that short list. A must-see.

As for Donovan, regrettably I’ve never seen him live but good gobs of gravy did the guy write some great songs that will endure forever.

Advertisers have discovered the power of Donovan. You can hear his work on spots from General Electric and Microsoft. Yes, his music that good.

It’s good to see these three transformative artists pass into the pearly gates in Cleveland. It’s certainly about time.

Remember your first? Your last great? Do share.

This election season is unbearably tragic.

Thanks to the U.S. Supreme Court’s boneheaded ‘Citizen United’ decision earlier this year, corporations, unions, rich fatcats and special interest groups can dump untold fortunes into political campaigns and causes. And, they can do so under the cloak of secrecy with fake organizational names like The Coalition For Freedom And Justice To Preserve Our Constitutional Rights, or People for Protection Against Terror & Terrorists, or Citizens Who Truly Love The American Way of Life, or God’s People Fighting The Hidden Satanic Powers.

All this money is used to make spots that plunge our political discourse to new depths of sleaze, muckraking and mud slinging. The spots flood the airwaves with copy points like…
“Joe Doe says he wants to lower taxes, but he’s never denied that he hasn’t killed small children or strangled puppies with his bare hands…”
“Tom Mutt claims to be a family man, but how do we know he doesn’t have three, four or even ten wives– with countless illegitimate children born out of wedlock? Can we really trust a man of unproven, questionable moral character to represent us in Washington?”
“If Jane Duwayne is so concerned about balancing the state’s budget, why did she get slapped with stinging penalty overdraft charges to her checking account in 1998? Is this the sort of fiscally irresponsible behavior we want today? Can we really trust our financial future to someone who is so reckless she’s been penalized by big banks? And how do we know she doesn’t owe those big bankers more payback? Can we really afford to mortgage our future, and our children’s future on Jane Duwayne?”
“Mike Tadpole says he’s a conservative Republican. But we have no idea if he voted for Obama, secretly loves Nancy Pelosi or is best friends with Harry Reid. And how do we know he’s not hiding bin Laden in his tool shed? Could that be the reason he’s never once talked about his tool shed in his campaigning? What’s Mike Tadpole hiding? Do we really want to find out?”

Sadly, until some real campaign finance reform legislation is passed, which will be next to never since the money funding politicians won’t allow it, we’re stuck with our current freak show political process and airwaves clogged with mud. And all too often, the candidates and causes with the deepest pockets win. And exactly whose best interest do you think they’re beholden to?

Pitiful. Can’t we do better?

There’s an alarming trend in America’s restaurants: the uber-waiters and waitresses who take orders without writing them down.

They cock their heads as people recite their complex orders of “a garden salad with no cucumbers or onions, extra tomatoes, light ranch dressing on the side and a meatloaf platter, light on the tomato sauce, sub fries for mashed potatoes– oh, and could I get spinach instead of green beans?”

Later, the server brings a veggie soup and a meatloaf sandwich with onion rings.

There is no shame in writing things down, wait-people. The diners of America will not mock you for resorting to visual aids to remember our persnickety orders. In fact, we feel good about it. Writing the order down is reassuring and comforting. We do not give you extra credit or extra tips for not writing it down. No one expects you to be a memory expert, honestly. If you were, you wouldn’t be taking orders from swine like us.

Thanks. I feel better. Please refrain from spitting in my food.