Poor Britney

I never thought I would find myself saying something so ludicrous, but here it is:

I feel sorry for Britney Spears.

One minute she’s making a kajillion dollars shaking her bottom on MTV clad in a schoolgirl skirt that wouldn’t pass muster in any classroom in America, dating a Back Street Boy (or was it an N’Syncer…I always get those two boy bands confused, but it’s okay because they’re nearly interchangeable) and lip-synching her way up and down the pop charts.

She was the envy of every female between the ages of Barney and Stridex, and the erotic dream of every male between the ages of Barney and Metamucil.

Now she’s just a tired-looking makeup-challenged SUV-driving new mother.

Recently caught on film behind the wheel of a mom-mobile with her unstrapped new baby in her lap, Spears has become the whipping post for the tongue-clucking set.

Even U.S. Transportation Secretary Norm Mineta has joined in the Britney bashing, calling her “irresponsible.”

Old Norm and the rest of the political correctness patrol need to get over themselves, and get their noses out of Britney’s business.

To be honest, I’ve never much cared for the pop princess, or the poor sartorial and moral example she’s set for our teens.

But she’s getting a bad deal in this instance.

First, let’s give some credit.

At least she was actually with her child, instead of phoning in her motherhood from a tour bus or movie set like so many of today’s Hollywood moms who choose to procreate because they aren’t responsible enough to qualify for a pet adoption at the local pound.

In the video of her alleged misdeed, Britney looks unkempt, frazzled, desperate, and panicked.

Trust me, it has nothing to do with paparazzi.

All new mothers look like this.

It’s an impossible job, with long hours, lousy pay, a thankless employer, and a demanding boss (the baby) who doesn’t believe in coffee breaks, showers, or uninterrupted sleep, much like working for Donald Trump.

The unions should quit trying to organize casino workers and kindergarten teachers and instead focus on getting better working conditions and pay for new moms.

But more importantly, Britney hasn’t done anything heinous or extraordinarily dangerous.

Have a talk with your own parents, the ones who grew up in lead-painted cribs and eating mud pies, and ask them about their first driving experience.

Most of them won’t discuss their awkward attempts trying to parallel-park the family Vista Cruiser.

They will light up with the memory of sitting on their dad’s lap and hanging onto the steering wheel with both hands during a family trip.

Helping dad “drive” the car is one of the most precious bonding moments in a kid’s memory.

Today’s children have been cheated out of this treasure by air bags and a politically-correct society that would rather have kids strapped in like cargo because they MIGHT, theoretically, perhaps, in one out of a million instances, possibly suffer a potential injury in the unlikely event of a rare 20 mph fender bender.

This is the same group of zealots who also think Ritalin is a better child-rearing tool than dad’s firm hand.

Personally, I would rather endure 100 crash-induced head injuries than be politically stripped of that magical moment when dad let this four-year-old sit in his lap and take the wheel.

Britney’s baby is probably too young to be able to remember this moment in years to come.

Fortunately, thanks to home movies courtesy of CNN and Fox News, the kid will be able to relive this bonding moment before he’s old enough to get his first nose piercing.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

It’s official.

Today is my last day as the sports editor for the Desert Valley Times.

After two years with the newspaper, I have decided that it’s time to move on.

While there are different kinds of love…love for your spouse, love for your children, love for your 1974 Camaro, love for your dog, love for your job…there is one universal truth about all forms of that particular emotion.

It hurts when you and your beloved part ways.

While I’m stoked and enthused about my new projects, which I’ll mention in a moment, this is a sad day for me.

I love writing. I have loved being a public figure. I have loved being “in the know,” helping people, telling the truth.

But like a love affair gone bad, a lot of the fun has gone out of being a part of the DVT.

It started back in October, when one of my Workman Chronicles columns was killed by the editorial staff because it was going to bring more heat on a family member.

There was nothing wrong with the article itself…not particularly inflammatory or controversial, it was just addressing a topic (Homeowners Associations) that was causing problems for someone in the business.

In protest, I decided to pull the Workman Chronicles, Hard At Play, the Phantom of the Cineplex, and all the hard-news reporting I had done up until that point.

All of these “extras” were above and beyond my job description. I just did them because I love to write, and wanted to make this the best small newspaper in the state of Nevada.

While dozens of readers expressed their disappointment, particularly in the absence of the Workman Chronicles, the editorial staff was unmoved.

But even more important than the censoring of my own article was the ongoing suppression of real news in the community.

Things have happened in this town that are intentionally not reported, or are muted to keep a positive face.

There have been shootings that weren’t investigated or properly reported by the newspaper, not to mention dozens of other activities that have gone unpublished.

And the continuing, unwavering support for the construction company and botched road project currently underway on Mesquite Blvd., in spite of the almost-universal anger from the citizenry, is beyond comprehension,

For the first year of my involvement with the DVT, I refused to believe that was happening. In fact, I had publicly and repeatedly insisted that it just wasn’t so.

But for the last year, I’ve seen it happen too often to ignore.

The DVT will put a “ground-breaking” for a new business on the front page with a 500-word story (often one not even written by newspaper staff), but will bury the 150-word story of an attempted murder on page six.

Things got worse.

In December, I was asked to do online radio broadcasts for RadioMesquite of the VVHS basketball games.

Since I was a sports broadcaster about a hundred years ago, I agreed to do it.

But first, I asked for and received permission from my supervisor at the newspaper.

A month ago, I got an e-mail saying that I had to quit broadcasting because RadioMesquite had been deemed a “competitor” to the newspaper.

This was the last straw for me.

I decided that I could no longer continue to have my name associated with an organization that had failed at its job so miserably, and had such little integrity.

Which brings me to now.

On Monday, in addition to running Computer Help, a company dedicated to computer tutoring, training, troubleshooting, and repair for individuals, retirees, and small business, I will be joining the staff of Mesquite Local and Radio Mesquite.

This company is in the process of developing an online daily newspaper.

They insist that they are dedicated to telling the truth, no matter how ugly or painful.

I don’t like harping on the negative. By nature, I’m a pretty optimistic, positive person.

But more than anything, I believe in the truth. I insist on it. I don’t like spin, and I hate obfuscation, especially when things are hidden “for our own good.”

I have been assured that MesquiteLocal will print the truth.

I’ll also be more involved with RadioMesquite, helping to develop new talk shows and other radio programming to go along with our continuing broadcasts of VVHS basketball and baseball.

So I’ll still be around, although preaching to much smaller congregations.

Fortunately, all signs are that the congregation is growing.

But most importantly, I will be able to contribute, uncensored, to an organization that values respect and honor.

So buckle your seatbelts, because we’re on our way!