Just when everyone thought Mark Geragos could not possibly find a client more odious than the child molester Michael Jackson or the wife killer Scott Peterson, Geragos decided to represent Amritpal and Kulbir Dhaliwal. The reckless actions of these drunken jackasses led to the destruction of Tatiana, a beautiful 4-year old Siberian tiger.
Now that the Dhaliwal brothers have confessed to provoking the tiger who attacked them on Christmas Day, the transcripts of the 911 call from the SF Zoo shed further light into the unsavory character of these individuals.
Kulbir Dhaliwal placed the first call at 5:16 pm from in front of the cafeteria at the SF Zoo. He was apparently having an argument with the manager of the cafe:
Kulbir: I'm talking to the manager here, the stupid a- doesn't want to get me a towel ...
The towel was presumably to staunch bleeding. Of course, in Kulbir's thinking, the manager should have exposed himself and his employees at the cafeteria to the danger of a prowling tiger, despite the Zoo's policy of locking down buildings during an escape.
911: The ambulance, the police are at the front.
Kulbir: Get them out here already!
He was apparently quite impatient with the response time, which was on the order of 10 minutes. This is a fairly quick response time in SF for a life and death emergency; times in East Bay cities such as Oakland and Richmond can be twice that, and there are instances where dispatched ambulances and police do not arrive at all to crime scenes. In other words, if you live in underfunded cities such as SF or Oakland, which have about half the police force of comparable cities in other states, then you should be thankful if you can just get through to 911 without being put on hold.
911: OK, the ambulance is staging. I need you to understand. That if the ambulance people, paramedics ...
Kulbir: What do you mean? ... My brother's going to die out here!
911: I'll stay on the line with you. If the paramedics get hurt they cannot help your brother, so you need to calm down and ...
Kulbir: Send more paramedics then!
Lovely. Kulbir thinks he is a general ordering more troops into the breach, damn the danger. No one else's life matters except his brother's. It does not matter to him if a paramedic is killed as a result of his stupidity in taunting the tiger.
Kulbir: Can you fly a helicopter right here? Because I don't see no f- ambulance here.
What a sense of entitlement! He screws up and now he thinks he deserves helicopter attention. Helicopter "Life Flights" are not usual for SF because no hospital in SF has helicopter landing facilities. Life Flights are more of an East Bay phenomenon.
These transcripts, the refusal of these brothers to cooperate with police, their documented effort to conceal what occurred that day, all speak to egomania and a prince-like expectation of entitlement.
What a pity Tatiana was not allowed time to finish her snack.
Some have said that the seriousness of the candidacy of Barack Obama is a sign that American culture is now ready to consider a black man for the post of first citizen.
Consider, however, the recent WST op-ed piece by Karl Rove. Rove criticized Obama's rhetoric, claiming that it was, "an unattractive carryover from his days playing pickup basketball at Harvard."
Or consider Andrew Cuomo's recent criticism of Obama. Cuomo stated that Obama could not "shuck and jive" his way to the White House.
Such blatantly racist statements, even from Democrats like Cuomo, should not startle us. These remarks remind me of Lenny Bruce's famous sketch, "How to Relax Your Colored Friends at Parties," in which a well-intentioned liberal, trying to "mingle" during the civil rights era, degenerates into crass stereotypes.
Clearly, we have a long way to go.
According to Perez Hilton, Britney Spears recently wrote a suicide note:
"The letter was very sad," says a friend. "It was filled with reasons why she shouldn't live, included lines from poems about death."
Wonder what it said? What literary allusions did Unfitney conjure in her thanatopsis? Well, wait no more: My secret sources have found a copy of this note! I reproduce it here:
'Sup y'all, So I'm like dead or whatev' So like Sylvia Plath wrout it rite :
The frost makes a flower,
The dew makes a star,
The dead bell, the dead bell,
Somebody's done for.
And she was all like:
The woman is perfected
Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity
Flows in the scrolls of her toga
Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over
So like when the pap-paps all take my pikture, I'm all like
I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.
Scorched to the root
My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wire.
Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.
I'm like exactly like Sylvia Plath, y'all. Here's my poetry
Gimme gimme more, gimme more
Gimme gimme more, gimme gimme more
Gimme more more
You see? That's like litachur an shit.
As my last well and testimoney, I leave all my mony and worldly posesions to Leona Helmsley's dog. Piece out, Brit Brit X(