A HARAHAN MURDERER AND AN X-FILES CASE

In the metro section today, I came across two interesting stories. The first one was on the front page with the headline: FATHER FINDS MURDER, SUICIDE. (How can you find suicide? Was it lost? Is that what U2 was looking for but still hadn't found? Suicide?)

I don't know how it is in the rest of the country, but on any given day, our metro section produces some hilarious crime stories. Besides keeping abreast of what's happening out there, these stories provide much entertainment. For me, however, this was not one of them.

First sentence (by the way, "staff writer" Danny - hey buddy - wrote it): The bodies of a 25-year-old Harahan man and a ...." Say what? My body was found by FATHER? Holy shit! Second graph: They were identified as Chris Arnoult ..." Whew! I wasn't found dead. I was really starting to worry that I was dead and was finding out by reading the next day's paper, like in some twisted sci-fi movie. (Hey, that's not a bad idea.)

Anyway, in the past two days, one 25-year-old Harahan man committed a murder-suicide. I hope this isn't a trend.

The second story's headline definitely made me want to read the story: FULL OF WHISKEY, MOM TURNED IN SONS IN KILLING. However, the headline didn't properly prepare me for the third graph. Background: A N.O. woman turned in her two kids in 2002 for a murder after she "made a moral decision." She had three pints of whiskey that day. Not surprising. This is New Orleans. Drinking. Murder. Criminal courts. Nothing shocking.

Until you read the third graph. What did the woman tell a defense attorney Thursday when asked about her psychiatric history? "I see dead people. Sometimes I see things before they happen." I couldn't stop laughing. We got a woman on the stand telling the court (more than likely completely serious) that she sees dead people, like some cute little kid in a Bruce Willis movie. You can't make this stuff up.

I bet she isn't even aware of the Sixth Sense. For anyone interested, there is no witness to the murder or anything linking the sons to the murder weapon. The only thing the prosecution has is the mother who sees dead people. Also, a prosecutor said her drinking shouldn't be a problem with her credibility, calling her "essentially a functioning alcoholic."

Yup, only in New Orleans.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

We got my mom's first sign of displeasure with Obama today. "This new fucking president needs to get the hell out of here."
Me (confused): Obama?
Mom: Yeah. Fucking cigarettes went up twice in the past month.

Two hours later. "Fucking cigarettes went from $26 to $27 to $32.

Mom had three curses at the TV.
1) America's Next Top Model. There is confusion among the girls. "Do any of you people watch this fucking show? There's only 12 beds because one of you is going home."

2) Who Wants to be a Millionaire? The contestant gets a question wrong that mom knew. "What? Fucking ass."

3) A soap opera. Some character is confused. "Look at the fucking computer, asshole."

THE GENE POOL DIP (I MEAN TIP) OF THE WEEK

Whenever you use your debit or credit card in person, make sure the cashier gives you the card back before leaving. I learned this lesson the hard way Friday.

The cashier at Bobby's was ringing up my order, and I opened my wallet to take out my debit card. It wasn't there. I searched every part of my wallet. Twice. Freak out time. The cashier reached out her hand for my card. Uh. Oh yeah, I realized. I can just use my credit card. Duh.

When I got back to my car with the food, I searched in between the seats, on the floor and on the ground right outside my car. Nothing. That didn't make any sense anyway. My debit card can't fall out my wallet. It's too tight in there. That's what Ted said. I had to have left it somewhere.

The last place I used it was last Friday at Seither's, so I call them up.
Me: Yeah. I think I left my debit card there last week. Can you ...
Worker: Is this Gene?
Me: Why yes.
Worker: We've got it. By Tuesday, we had a pool going on when you would come back for it.

I tell Tina the funny story of how I went a week without knowing I didn't have my debit card. "You could lose any fucking thing." Probably.

The waitress gives me back my card. "Sorry about that. It was all my fault. I forgot to give it back to you last week."
Me: Uh, I'm the one who left without his debit card.
Worker: Yeah. OK. It's both our faults.

PARTING SHOTS
Phil asks if we had J.T. O'Sullivan signing with the Bengals in today's paper.

JRap: No. Last night, they were just interested.
Me: Today, they called him up and asked for a date.
JRap: They sent a note that said: Do you like me? Yes or no. Circle one.
Derry: They became facebook friends.
Me: And then they poked each other.
JRap: Easy.
(A few seconds pass.)
Liam: Poked?
Me: It's what you do on facebook if you like someone. Then, it says you've been poked by ...
Liam: A smooth criminal?

I'm at my desk talking to Danny on the phone about his story of the 25-year-old Harahan suicide-murderer. The subject switches to the stupid Customer Only parking signs.

Danny: You should take one home and put it in Tina's parking space.
Me: I don't think I have those kind of balls.
Brick (matter-of-factly): Gene, do you know you just said that out loud?

THE DAILY TOP LIST
Remember that TBS program Movies for Guys Who Like Movies? Anyway, back to the countdown.

65) Air Force One. 1997.
Get off my plane!

64) Two Weeks Notice. 2002.
I'm a sucker for Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock. Put 'em both in the same movie, and it's over.

63) Nightmare on Elm Street. 1984.
I used to have this recurring dream, er, nightmare where I woke up at my grandma's house, but as I entered the kitchen from the bedroom, it turned into Freddy's boiler room. I'd walk around scared to death for some time. When I eventually found my cousin and grandma being tortured by Freddy, I woke up.

62) Patriot Games. 1992.
The adrenaline really starts pumping when Jack and the gang realize the household is about to be attacked.

61) Sandlot. 1993.
"You're killing me, Smalls" is part of my vocabulary.