Donations pour in to buy a car for the Eric Frein lookalike, James Tully, who has been hassled by police countless times on his daily five mile walk to work.
Meanwhile, the hunt for Frein is now being conducted by an unmanned, giant, silent balloon.
A Brazilian orange juice maker has gone bananas.
CHP officers in the Bay Area are stealing nude photos from women’s cell phones and using them as virtual trading cards.
Oprah did damage control after her driver ran over a fan’s foot.
In case you were wondering, it’s a crime to swim naked with your baby in the state of New Mexico.
In order to fund her roadtrip, this Chinese teenager plans to sleep with a different man in each city.
Behold the python’s virgin birth.
Beware of retailers peddling unsafe Halloween costumes for children.
What’s happening in Albuquerque today?
Happy birthday, Simon Le Bon.
Michael J. Fox hopes that Taylor Swift never gets the chance to write a song about his son.
Local farmers are supporting a bill to keep home grown food in New Mexico schools.
Theater in Aurora Colorado reopens with remembrance ceremony and screening of “The Hobbit” for victims.
What did we learn from last nights interview with Lance Armstrong? Oprah is the most intense interviewer ever.
The New Mexico Sheriffs’ Association responds to the gun control debate.
A man that was trapped for two days in his own hoarded items may require amputation.
The Pit landed itself on ESPN’s list of top 10 home court advantage.
It's official in all but the most limited capacities now: Oprah Winfrey has confirmed that Lance Armstrong confessed to using performance-enhancing drugs. The interview was apparently so intense (or somebody really needs the ratings so badly) that it's going to be split into two parts. The first half will air tomorrow night, as originally planned, but the second half will be shown on Friday, extending Lance's confession into movie-length territory. This seems appropriate for a used-to-the-publicity Armstrong. When he was diagnosed with cancer and subsequently told that there was a significant chance he wouldn't live, he beat the odds. After that, he went on to win an unprecedented seven Tour de France races in a row. After retiring from the sport in 2004, he made a comeback that went better than anyone had a right to expect. He maintained his innocence all that time, despite the cloud of PEDs hanging over cycling in general, and the news of other winners being stripped of their titles. He continuously flaunted his 100% pass rate of the United States Anti-Doping Agency's tests, despite claims from others that he shouldn’t have been able to do so.
But last year, when news broke that the World Anti-Doping Agency and its U.S.-based affiliate had finally accumulated enough evidence against Armstrong, he retreated. He said he wouldn't be “hounded anymore.” He said he wouldn't legitimize their witch hunt against him. And the general public started to doubt. They started to waver in their commitment to the man who made cycling a topic at all in America. And most of all, there were some who felt duped. Not just by the sporting accomplishments of Armstrong, but by arguably the biggest category of his life, the one thing conspicuously missing from his bio thus far: his super successful charity, Livestrong.
It's hard to separate the story of Lance Armstrong, world-renowned cyclist and recently-admitted doper, from the story of Lance Armstrong, cancer survivor and advocate. Some argue that it's impossible. Because of the amazing work that Armstrong did in raising awareness of the disease and the incredible funds his foundation has raised in fighting its spread, his doping case doesn't seem to be as clear cut as the baseball Hall of Fame voters seem to think their era's cloud is. There were claims, after the news broke last year about Armstrong's doping, that Livestrong donations increased. There were also individuals who said they felt cheated and they wanted their donations back.
And therein lies the rub in the case of Lance Armstrong. Some feel "hoodwinked" and others feel like his inspirational message trumps all else. Why is he confessing to Oprah now? We won't know until everything's out, and the show doesn't air its first part until tomorrow. But as contrite as Armstrong may be, as much as he may want to focus on moving forward with triathlons or re-focusing on the good the Livestrong foundation does in its fight against cancer, there will be some who never forget or forgive. Armstrong doesn't always put his best foot forward and it will be interesting, to say the least, to see where he goes from here.
The early days of The Alibi, then known as NuCity (before a Chicago publication with a phonetically identical name threatened to rip out all of our editorial teeth), were the types of days that every flash-of-genius writer chortles over when he's being interviewed by Oprah about his sizzling debut novel, or every tech guru recalls as she laughingly characterizes her time spent paying her dues before the Big Brilliant Idea that Changed Technology ForEver. They were days of subsisting on Fred's bagels (since we mostly got paid in "bagel bucks" instead of cash); working (sometimes even crashing) in a hot office box with Department of Health condemnable carpet; and simply assuming, with the nearly impervious certainty of youth, that everything would get better, and that we'd have fun in the meantime.
But since I was a bit older (a UNM grad student) than the whippersnappers (freshly minted University of Wisconsin alumni who'd graduated at age 14 after starting the now-famous Onion and who then bounded over to Albuquerque to launch NuCity), maybe my perviousness was perviouser because a couple of symbolic events shook my sense of admittedly weak professionalism.
One came in the form of the "serious" debut of our politics issue. We'd worked hard on the format and content: local pols running for office had been profiled; corresponding election season events had been catalogued; illustrations had been applied to cleverly embellish the stories. I, as the Managing Editor/Editor, along with our Copy Editor at the time, had the last look through before giving the final approval. Perfect! So proud! So political! So grown up! Too bad about the blaring, mega-point headline that spelled the word "candidate" wrong, as we saw the next day before the issue inexorably hit the stands–a classic minor-major detail. The other folks at the paper who were psychologically healthier than I was just laughed it off, smoked a cigarette, and began laying out the next issue.
The second event actually came before the first one chronologically, but it had bigger ramifications at the time. We were applying for membership in AAN, the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies, and a group of us (Chris Johnson, Dan Scott, Landry? Dabney? O'Leary? Jonesy? Petersen?) had flown over to California with our precious offering–an issue that featured a solid, well-researched story by the inimitable Tim McGivern, illustrated by the swashbuckling Jason Waskey. We actually had to appear before a panel of AAN judges in an American Idol meets the North Korean Ministry of People's Security moment. And we were eviscerated. Bomblets like "juvenile" and "unprofessional" and "unworthy" were tossed about casually by people who were supposed to be cool! They had the word "alternative" in their dang title! Where was the encouragement, the pub invitation, the tender promise of mentorship? AAN was important since, through membership, we could use their big stories in our paper and they could pick up and circulate ours as well. It was the only time, to date, that a professional setback made me cry. One journalist in the judging group did attempt to defend us and spoke to us afterward as well. He was the lone African American on the panel and commended the diversity of our coverage. Chris and Dan lobbed a few choice expletives, laughed, said we'd be fine, and smoked some cigarettes.
They were right. We eventually did make it into AAN, now operating under the expanded 21st identity of Association of Alternative Newsmedia. "Canidates," both in title and in practice, are long forgotten. (Although we did once have an interesting conversation with at-the-time New Mexico Governor Gary Johnson, which presaged his perpetual libertarian presence on the national ticket ... but that's another story.) So while most of us, past and present, may not be Oprah dazzlers or tech zillionistas, we probably have better carpet now, and the Alibi still laughs, spits out an expletive here and there, maybe smokes a cigarette when the spouse isn't looking, and publishes onward.
U.S. Army Corps of Engineers opened the of floodgates on the Morganza Spillway, forcing almost 4,000 people to evacuate.
Man stabbed after parking space argument.
The abandoned Anasazi Building is getting some security upgrades.
Denver school district bans breast cancer awareness bracelet.
Roswell teen arrested and charged with posting a nude photo of his girlfriend on Facebook after she refused sex.
The most powerful atomic clock EVER!
Steven Hawking: There is no heaven.
Scientists discover an obesity master switch.
Netflix announces deal with Miramax to bring hundreds of films to it's popular streaming service.
Meet Albuquerque's Red Light Camera Queen.
NBC renews Celebrity Apprentice.
Chuck E. Cheese is sued for promoting gambling in kids.
Oprah reveals her final guest list.
Are Lazy Cakes the next Four Loco?
Tornadoes rip through the south killing 200 people.
Instead of allowing a Gay-Straight Alliance to form, the Clovis School Board banned clubs.
Albuquerque Tortilla Company sold to Mission (!!!). ATC owners to move into barbecue.
Home prices as opera.
Is a Megadrought on its way?
Bed bugs in Burque.
Gathering of Nations events kickoff around the city tonight.
Prince Charles breakdancing.
Americans don't like princesses as much as they used to.
Some brits don't care about the wedding.
Oprah talks to Obama about his birth certificate.
Ancient medicines recovered from a shipwreck. (That sounds like a spam.)
Protest art of SB 1070.
Four Americans are killed after being taken hostage by Somali pirates. I’m still getting over the fact that there are still pirates.
Police arrest an 11-year-old over an inappropriate stick figure drawing.
Another massive earthquake cripples the city of Christchurch, New Zealand. Many dead.
Illinois abruptly cuts off all funding for its drug and alcohol abuse treatment programs.
What the hell? Arizona may make abortions illegal depending on the gender or race of the fetus.
Blockbuster trade in the NBA: Carmelo Anthony, known ‘round these parts as simply ‘Melo’, is traded to the New York Knicks.
Libya’s ousted leader Muammar Gaddafi vows to die as a martyr.
You know times are tough when you’re forced to steal 58 containers of deodorant.
The First Vice Chairman of the state Republican Party names her black Angus cow Oprah. Errrrr ...
Check out the “Mob Experience” at the Tropicana hotel in Las Vegas. So neat.
Meanwhile, this library in Boston is offering a JFK experience, complete with an interactive desk.
Beer as a sports drink? Where have you been all my life?
An Indiana restaurant is banned from making references to Jim Jones’ cult in its advertising campaign. Way to take the fun out of everything, P.C. Police.
Jack LaLanne died at 96.
Wizard Magazine is shutting down.
A suicide bombing ripped apart Russia’s Domodedovo airport.
Lucky the biting monkey escaped.
Two died in a deadly Wal-Mart shooting.
Try the new line of marijuana soft drinks.
“Damn light effects” photo caused a stir last week.
Keanu says they’re going to make Matrix 4 and 5 sequels.
A man shot a chupacabra, kind of.
Oprah has a secret sister and I don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.
Italian scientists claim to have cold fusion figured out.
Giant crawdads were discovered in Tennessee.
Renaldo Hernandez was gunned down in a fit of jealous rage.
A six-year-old boy got to meet Darren White after saving his mother’s life.
Happy birthday Neil Diamond.
We now get the Oprah Channel.
The Dream Act passed the House last night and got tabled in the Senate today. Dems are stalling to try and gather the votes.
Gov. Richardson’s going to North Korea.
10 weirdest new animals of 2010.
Hackers threaten amazon.com in defense of WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange.
Slim Thug on a plane diverted to Albuquerque because another passenger tried to jump out. Slim Thug Tweets need for sympathy sex due to the ordeal.
$10,000 gasoline heist in Bernalillo caught on tape.
Investigators tell a strange and sad story of ritualized sexual abuse in the East Mountains.
The worst bathroom in N.Y.C.
London tuition protests grow violent.
House Dems reject tax cut deal struck by President Obama.
Some chaplains may resign if Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is repealed.
Another case of parking tickets on a car with a dead body inside.
Howard Stren goes on and on and on. For at least five more years on Sirius.
Oprah’s not even a little bit lesbian.
Tipping has little to do with quality of service.
With Oprah’s show ending in 2011, experts predict this collection of ripped-up O back issues will skyrocket in value. Bonus: All quizzes, such as Dr. Phil’s popular “Are You Normal?” series, have been conveniently filled out for you, giving you countless hours of extra free time, which is just great.
2 boxes of O Magazines from the very beginning, first issue in to 2008
Annoying perfume ads have been torn out, which is a very good thing.
To the one with the best offer for over 100 magazines.
There is so much in those magazines to enjoy and learn from.
This week’s book comes from my attempt to read the books I own but have not read, which I’m estimating to be 12% of the total. Books that I begin and can’t get past page 50 are going to some sort of charity that keeps people who have poor literary tastes supplied. Books I finish will fall into two categories: 1.) Keep, because who knows when I’ll need to use a quote from it in an acceptance speech / book epigraph / ransom demand and 2.) Sell on the lucrative paperback black market.
The book in question is Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees which I read last week one afternoon when it was hot and I wanted to sit outside and read something that wouldn’t give me too many “thinking lines” on my forehead. My friend gave me this book two years ago before she moved. She also made me take a mini-vacuum that works in reverse and is for bullshit! The Secret Life of Bees came out in 2003, one of Oprah’s minions read it, and then America went apeshit for it.
It’s a heartwarming tale set in the South about women. Yes, that sounds exactly like 1,400 other books Oprah has approved. What makes this different? Bee metaphors. Rampant, uncontrollable, allergy inducing bee metaphors. Also, black people.
Set in 1964, the 14-year-old white protagonist, Lily, takes off with her black housekeeper, Rosaleen because of civil rights and mean dads and things. This isn’t to belittle the significance of the events in the ‘60s South, but more just to say that any discussion of the protests, voter registrations and arrests feels more like a plot device than a genuine exploration.
This wasn’t a totally horrible book. I liked some aspects, some descriptions, and the Black Madonna (I don’t have the energy to describe what this is). However, I thought the main character was largely uninteresting and derivative, while the others ranged from two-dimensional to unbelievable.
Tons of people loved this book. Like your mom. And your mom is a good person, and let’s face it, she’s read way worse stuff. So, where do I put this on my “Ladies Who Like Books and Are Ladies” scale? Let’s take a look at that scale:
1 (low): Eeek! A spider! Smash it!
2: I’ll go camping if you force me, but I’ll make a crinkly face.
3: Close eyes, think of England.
4: Well, just one more doughnut won’t hurt
5 (high): Scribble its last name after my first name on rose-scented paper
The Secret Life of Bees gets ... a ... 3!