Dream Unrealized

It’s the lead story in today’s newscasts – Barack Obama will become the first African American to become a major political party’s candidate for President of the United States on the 45^th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s famous “I Have a Dream Speech.” Liberals and assorted well-meaning do-gooders are patting themselves on the back – See how diversified we are?  We made sure a black man has a legitimate chance to become president! 

Perhaps we should all take a moment and re-read Dr. King’s great speech – in particular, the most important line in my view.

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

The lead story in today’s newscasts isn’t that a man of good character will become the Democrat’s Presidential nominee on the 45^th anniversary of Dr. King’s speech… It’s that a black man will become the nominee.  Barack Obama is being judged by the color of his skin and not the content of his character.  So much for Dr. King’s dream.

What word do I use to describe this situation?  Ironic?  Sad?  Disheartening?  Perhaps they all apply.  If you see Barack Obama as a black man who’s running for the Presidency, you are a racist.  If you’re voting for or against him because of his color you are a racist.  It shouldn’t matter that Barack Obama is accepting his party’s nomination on the 45^th anniversary of Dr. King’s speech.  Unfortunately, for far too many it does.

Driving Is Too Easy!

Any moron can get a driver’s license

They’re out there, and they shouldn’t be.  I’m referring to all of the bungholes on the road who haven’t the slightest clue on how to drive.  There are two reasons for this.  First, today’s cars are a problem.  Automatic transmissions, automatic seatbelts, automatic navigation, even automatic windshield wipers – all today’s driver needs to do is plant their ass in the driver’s seat and step on the accelerator… and that’s what they do.

The second reason for all of the bad drivers – it’s too easy to get a driver’s license.  How hard is it to memorize a couple of traffic signs and speed limit rules?  I don’t know anyone who’s ever failed a diver’s test – but I know plenty who should have.  What would our roads be like if a third of people who take the driving test failed?  The roads would be safer and more bunghole free.

Here’s a first hand account of what it’s like to get a driver’s license in Japan.  Note the cost, the effort involved, and just how tough the test is.  The story comes from Reuters, and is written by their Asian Automotive Correspondent:

Here's my confession: I was a car industry reporter without a license to drive.

I had let my U.S. driver's license lapse some years ago and, living in Tokyo where it's easier to get around by subway, I didn't feel an immediate need to renew it.

Still, over the years I grew weary of having to decline test-drive offers from the companies I cover. With electric cars and other innovative models coming to market, I decided it was time to bite the bullet.

Besides, I'd heard a lot about how hard it was to get a license under Japan's draconian system and I was curious.

To get a license, you must attend 26 lectures lasting 50 minutes each, and have 34 driving lessons before the final test. If you want an automatic transmission-only license, you only have to take 31 lessons behind the wheel.

The curriculum includes three hours of first-aid training, and a kind of personality test on the first day.

There's no pass or fail in the latter but, through questions such as "Do you often get into long arguments with people?," the instructors analyze your mental disposition and suggest ways to make sure negative aspects don't get in the way of safe driving.

I didn't want to spend every weekend for months on my quest so I decided to enroll in a 16-day course in the sleepy tourist town of Matsuzaki on the Izu peninsula, southwest of Tokyo.

It cost around $2,500 and I was told this was a bargain, although my U.S. Pennsylvania state license took only a few days and $30 to obtain.

The training and lectures during the first week covered what I needed to know to take a written and driving test for a permit. With the permit, you can immediately start practicing on public roads to go for another round of tests.

TRICK QUESTIONS

The driving course in Izu was the size of a football field, with traffic lights, a railroad crossing and a slope to practice starting without stalling. We trained in Toyota sedans, with extra foot brakes for the teachers.

I started the course with a motley crew of Izu locals: a 41-year-old mother, a young man just out of college and a hotel owner who had had his license revoked.

Though we shared little in common, it didn't take long for us to bond, thanks to a common enemy: the quizzes we were required to take at least twice a day to prepare us for the mind-twisting exams ahead.

Although the true-or-false tests mostly covered material from the classes, they were tough. One question read: "If you approach a pedestrian crossing and you don't know whether there are any pedestrians nearby, you must drive slowly so the car can come to an immediate stop if needed."

I answered 'true'. I was wrong.

That's because all they want you to do is "slow down" rather than "drive slowly." In precision-obsessed Japan, there's a textbook definition of what constitutes "driving slowly."

The questions often seemed needlessly misleading and we had to learn about 100 traffic signs and not-so-useful factoids.

An example: the speed limit for vehicles towing other cars is 30 km/hour, unless the one being pulled weighs 2 tonnes or less and is towed by a vehicle weighing at least three times as much, in which case it's 40 km/hour.

The passing score is 90 out of 100 points.

The driving test is just as detail-oriented.

Points are knocked off for failing to roll down the windows at a railroad crossing or forgetting to adjust the rear-view mirror. Stall the car twice on top of that and you'll probably be disqualified.

It's hard to fault the authorities for being thorough. Japan has one of the lowest rates of road deaths among the world's richest nations, while the United States is neck-and-neck with Greece as the worst offender.

Despite all my preparation, I had a moment of panic during my big test on the final day.

Halfway through, the examiner told me to park, handed me a map and asked me to get us to another point. I am not good with directions. I felt my feet tense up so to give them a rest, I put the car in neutral, and yanked the handbrake up.

Once I explained how we would get there, I started the car, totally focused on remembering the directions. When I put the car in second gear, something didn't feel right.

"Let's put the handbrake down, shall we?"

I was floored. I couldn't remember if a verbal intervention from the examiner was an automatic fail. I mentally prepared myself to stay an extra day and take the test again.

Thankfully, we all graduated on schedule. Now, there was just the final written test, to be taken in Tokyo.

Back home, I went to the test centre the very next day before the esoteric rules I had learnt escaped my memory.

I made the cut, but about a third of those who took the test that morning didn't.

And I still haven't driven in Tokyo.

Here’s the link to the full story:  http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080810/lf_nm_life/japan_auto_licence_dc_1

He’s Not A Real Gyno?

I’m not a woman and I’ve never been to a gynecologist; however I’ve got a pretty good idea what a gynecologist’s office should look like.  I imagine there’s a waiting room, perhaps some insurance forms to fill out, several old issues of People Magazine, and I’m guessing at least one nurse.  If you don’t see these things, there’s a chance your gynecologist may not be on the up and up.

This leads me to the story of Zalman Sibler – a businessman, and Andrew Dale – a police officer.  They were both arrested in Rockland County, New Jersey for a variety of things including posing as doctors and performing gynecological exams.  Sibler and Dale pleaded not guilty… although Sibler faces similar charges in Manhattan for posing as a doctor.

No doubt about it, these two D-Bags are creeps, but let’s not forget, they couldn’t perform their supposed medical exams without patients.  What kind of an idiot goes into an office sans nurses, forms, magazines, etc… and doesn’t get at least a little suspicious?  Especially when both men were together to perform gynecological exams.  It’s hard enough to get in to see one doctor, but two?  At some point, people have to take responsibility for their own stupidity.

With any luck, these two will soon be found guilty and will end up tossin’ someone’s salad in the joint.  Hopefully, this case will open some people’s eyes so it doesn’t happen again, but I fear it will.  As P.T. Barnum correctly stated, “There’s a sucker born every minute.”

Here’s the story from the Courier Post Online:

A policeman and a businessman sexually abused a woman repeatedly by persuading her they could conduct legitimate medical exams, prosecutors said Wednesday.

The indictment lists 28 separate counts of sexual abuse against each man. At least two medical exams were conducted on the woman, Rockland District Attorney Thomas Zugibe said.

Zalman Silber, 41, of Monsey, and Andrew Dale, 34, of Suffern, were also charged with practicing medicine without a license. Dale, who was a Ramapo police officer at the time of the alleged crimes in 2005 and 2006, was charged with official misconduct. He has since been suspended.

The district attorney said that only Dale is accused of actually touching the woman illegally while Silber is accused of "aiding and abetting the cop to conduct the exam in his presence." Zugibe would give no other details.

The alleged crimes occurred in Rockland County. Silber is facing similar charges in Manhattan for allegedly posing as a doctor and sexually abusing two women during fake exams in 2003 and 2004. That case is pending, said Alicia Maxey Greene of the Manhattan district attorney's office.

Silber created the New York Skyride at the Empire State Building, which simulates a bird's-eye tour of New York City. He reportedly sold it for $9 million.

The two men pleaded not guilty Tuesday to the Rockland charges and were released pending a court appearance Sept. 9.

Here’s the link to the full story:  http://www.courierpostonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080814/NEWS01/80814006

It’s Not Just About Going For Gold!

Sex is the ultimate prize in the Olympic Village

I enjoy the Olympics.  I watch it on TV and on-line.  I love boxing, the equestrian events, handball and track and field, but apparently the real action never makes it to the TV or computer screen – because it all goes down in the Olympic Village, an area closed to all but the world’s greatest athletes.

According to the London Times Online, the Olympic Village is one giant orgy.  It was that way in Seoul, Barcelona, Sydney, and now Beijing.   It makes sense I suppose.  It’s a compound of the world’s most toned bodies - competitive bodies – bodies that used to going for the gold. 

Male and female athletes are on the prowl in the Olympic Village looking for their next conquest… that is after their own competition has ended.  Sex can zap the body of Olympic power (if done right), so the athletes don’t become bedfellows until their events are over… and once they are, watch out!  Beijing officials have handed out thousands of free condoms to athletes this year.

Below is the story from a man who knows.  He competed in Barcelona and Sydney and is commentator for the Beijing games.  After reading this, you just may consider getting in shape for the 2012 games in London.

I am often asked if the Olympic village - the vast restaurant and housing conglomeration that hosts the world's top athletes for the duration of the Games - is the sex-fest it is cracked up to be. My answer is always the same: too right it is. I played my first Games in Barcelona in 1992 and got laid more often in those two and a half weeks than in the rest of my life up to that point. That is to say twice, which may not sound a lot, but for a 21-year-old undergraduate with crooked teeth, it was a minor miracle.

Barcelona was, for many of us Olympic virgins, as much about sex as it was about sport. There were the gorgeous hostesses - there to assist the athletes - in their bright yellow shirts and black skirts; there were the indigenous lovelies who came to watch the competitions. And then there were the female athletes - literally thousands of them - strutting, shimmying, sashaying and jogging around the village, clad in Lycra and exposing yard upon yard of shiny, toned, rippling and unimaginably exotic flesh. Women from all the countries of the world: muscular, virile, athletic and oozing oestrogen. I spent so much time in a state of lust that I could have passed out. Indeed, for all I knew I did pass out - in a place like that how was one to tell the difference between dreamland and reality?

It was not just the guys. The women, too, seemed in thrall to their hormones, throwing around daring glances and dynamite smiles like confetti. No meal or coffee break was complete without a breathless conversation with a lithe long jumper from Cuba or an Amazonian badminton player from Sweden, the mutual longing so evident it was almost comical. It was an effort of will to keep everything in check until competition had finished. But, once we were eliminated from our respective competitions, we lunged at each other like suicidal fencers. There may have been a fair amount of gay sex going on, too - but given the notorious homophobia in sport it was rather more covert.

This sex fest was not limited to Barcelona: the same thing happened in Sydney in 2000, my second Olympics as an athlete, and is happening right here in Beijing, where this time I'm a commentator. I spoke to an Aussie table tennis player this week to check out the village vibe and he launched into the breathless patter common to any Olympic debutant: “It is unbelievable in there; everyone is totally crazy once they are out of their competitions. God knows what it is going to be like this weekend. It is like a world within a world.” A British runner (anonymous again: athletes are not supposed to talk to journalists unaccompanied by a PR type, least of all about sex) said: “The swimmers finished earlier in the week and it was like there was an eruption.”

Ah yes, the swimmers. For some reason the International Olympic Committee insists on bunching the swimming events towards the beginning of the Games with the inevitable consequence that the aquatics folk get going earlier - sexually I mean - than everyone else. So much so that, at the outset of the Sydney Olympics, Jonathan Edwards, a Christian and triple jumper extraordinaire, caused a ripple by telling them publicly to keep a lid on it. Edwards was simply concerned about getting woken up by creaking floorboards, but given his biblical credentials, it became a story about morality. Not that his intervention made a blind bit of difference. There is a famous story from Seoul in 1988 that there were so many used condoms on the roof terrace of the British team's residential block the night after the swimming concluded that the British Olympic Association sent out an edict banning outdoor sex. Here in Beijing, organisers have realised that such prohibitions are about as useful as banning breathing and have, instead, handed out thousands of free condoms to the athletes. If you can't stop 'em, at least make it safe.

Which all begs a question, or possibly many questions. First, and most importantly, how can one get access to the village? The bad news is that you can't, unless, of course, you happen to be an athlete with the relevant accreditation. But secondly, where does this furnace of sexual energy come from? Or, to put it another way, why do sportsmen and women have such explosive libidos? I am not implying, for one moment, that every athlete in Beijing is at it. Just that 99 per cent of them are.

Before we get to that, however, it is worth noting an intriguing dichotomy between the sexes in respect of all this coupling. The chaps who win gold medals - even those as geeky as Michael Phelps - are the principal objects of desire for many female athletes. There is something about sporting success that makes a certain type of woman go crazy - smiling, flirting and sometimes even grabbing at the chaps who have done the business in the pool or on the track. An Olympic gold medal is not merely a route to fame and fortune; it is also a surefire ticket to writhe.

But - and this is the thing - success does not work both ways. Gold-medal winning female athletes are not looked upon by male athletes with any more desire than those who flunked out in the first round. It is sometimes even considered a defect, as if there is something downright unfeminine about all that striving, fist pumping and incontinent sweating. Sport, in this respect, is a reflection of wider society, where male success is a universal desirable whereas female success is sexually ambiguous. I do not condone this phenomenon, merely note it. Not all athletes are finely tuned specimens of perfect physical health, of course. A fair number are smokers, not prepared to give up despite the nagging of coaches and physiologists. At Barcelona, there was an area where the puffers would congregate near the transport mall. At the table tennis events in Beijing, a male player from Serbia and another from Greece have often been out catching a drag during breaks in play.

But let us get back to all the sex going down in the village. One possible explanation centres on the fact that Olympic athletes have to display an unnatural (and, it has to be said, wholly unhealthy) level of self-discipline in the build-up to big competitions. How else is this going to manifest itself than with a volcanic release of pent-up hedonism? It is a common sight to see recently knocked-out athletes gorging on Magnums and McDonald's, swilling alcohol and, of course, shagging like crazy. Sometimes all three at the same time. Yet this can be only a part of the explanation because most of the athletes I know are as up for it before and during competition as they are in the immediate aftermath. It is as if sportsmen and women have a higher base level of sexual energy. But why? Can it be that one of the underlying drivers of sporting greatness is also the very thing that produces an overactive sex drive?

If so, you can bet your Olympic accreditation that testosterone is implicated. Testosterone is the hormone responsible for many of the differences between the sexes and is also a key physiological driver of aggression, competitiveness and virility. This is particularly so with regard to women. The duel effect of testosterone on female sporting performance and sexuality was demonstrated - somewhat sinisterly - during the state-sponsored doping programme in East Germany. An average teenage girl produces around half a milligram of testosterone per day. In the mid-1980s German female athletes were doped with around 30 milligrams of androgenic steroids per day. The effect on sporting performance was breathtaking - East German women dominated the world in swimming and athletics - but it also produced libidos (according to the testimony of the athletes themselves) that spiraled out of control.

This is not to say that the athletes in the village are all on steroids, or that elevated levels of testosterone inevitably lead to lots of sex. It is merely to say that, at a population level, higher naturally occurring levels of testosterone in both genders would provide a powerful explanation for the combination of sporting prowess and sexual potency.

I also think it is significant that, for most athletes, the village is thousands of miles from home. The old “what goes on tour stays on tour” mantra is still alive and kicking, not just in sport but beyond. There is something deepseated in humanity that leads us to play by different rules whenever we leave town, a phenomenon that has caused instances of terrible inhumanity. When it comes to sex, it simply means that those in relationships no longer recognise, or at least ignore, the boundaries of fidelity and honesty that underpin human monogamy. Philosophers call it moral relativism; the rest of us call it hypocrisy.

There is also a Darwinian component to this. Scientists have measured, for example, how male fertility varies with distance from one's habitual partner. And guess what? According to a report in the journal Personality and Individual Differences, a man's sperm count doubles when he spends a lot of time on the road - up from 389 million sperm per ejaculate to 712 million. Which, I am sure you will agree, is a lot of extra sperm.

I suggest that it is the coming together (if you will forgive the expression) of these factors that creates such an explosive sexual cocktail within the security-controlled perimeter of the Olympic village. Not that this is a bad thing. I have always regarded sexual promiscuity - for a single person at least - as a basic human right, even if it is no panacea for happiness or, indeed, anything else. Of course, many athletes will abstain, others may even disapprove. Only one thing is certain: they will never again enter a place quite like the Olympic village. Not, at least, until London 2012.

Olympic romances

Roger Federer and Miroslava Vavrinec: Roger and Miroslava (originally from Slovakia) met at the 2000 Sydney Olympics where they both competed for Switzerland. A year later Vavrinec retired due to a foot injury and since has devotedly supported her man.

Matt Emmons and Katerina (Katy) Kurkova: Shooting stars Katy (Czech) and Matt (US) met in Athens 2004. She consoled him after he fired at the wrong target in his final shot which dropped him from 1st to 8th place. The chemistry was instant and they married in 2007.

Derek Redmond and Sharron Davies: The British swimmer Sharron Davies and athlete Derek Redmond met at the Barcelona Olympics (1992). In 1994 they married and had two children. They divorced in 2000.

Alyson Annan and Carole Thate: Two great international hockey players Alyson Annan (Australia) and Carole Thate (Netherlands) met in Sydney (2000). Their friendship led to a civil partnership in 2005 and they have recently had a son via donated sperm.

The hot gold contenders

Guo Jingjing China's 26-year-old diving diva is the hottest female athlete at the Olympics. But back off, boys - her boyfriend is the Hong Kong business tycoon Kenneth Fok Kai-kong

Usain Bolt The Jamaican sprinter, who celebrated his 22nd birthday yesterday, smashed both 100 metres and 200 metres world records. Let's hope he doesn't do everything at that speed

Silver

Eamon Sullivan Swimmer, aged 22, from Perth, ensures that these Games aren't a complete wash-out for the Aussies

Yelena Isinbayeva The 26-year-old Russian pole-vaulter - “the chick with the stick” - takes the women's silver medal

Bronze

Laure Manaudou French swimmer, aged 21 and 5ft 10in, takes the bronze medal place for women.

Pete Reed British rower and Royal Navy lieutenant, aged 27, 6ft 7in, 100kg, blue eyes - and he's ours

Here’s the link to the whole story: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/sport/olympics/article4582421.ece

Today’s Tool is a prime example of how one too many drinks can turn an idiot into a peckerhead.  Sure, it’s fun to scare kids off your property, but I don’t think this turd was trying to do that… I think he’s just a genuinely low person who wants everyone else to share in his misery.

Here’s the story from the Beaver County Times:

A Bridgewater man accused of wrestling with Beaver County deputy sheriffs was being taken into custody because he threatened to cut off a 5-year-old boy’s penis Sunday, according to a borough police report.

Philip Icenhour Jr., 44, of 1 Clarion St. remained in the Beaver County Jail on Monday on charges of aggravated assault, simple assault, resisting arrest, disorderly conduct and public drunkenness.

According to a report by Bridgewater officer James Brown, a woman called police and reported that Icenhour approached her son and took his toy sword from him. The woman said Icenhour placed the sword against the boy’s crotch and told him he would cut off his penis.

The woman said she was going to call police, and Icenhour ran.

Brown didn’t say where in Bridgewater the incident took place and didn’t name the woman or her son.

About an hour later, around 10:45 p.m., the woman called police again to report that Icenhour was sitting in the 700 block of Riverside Drive.

When officers approached, Brown reported, Icenhour put up a struggle, kicking and screaming. Police used a stun gun to subdue him. Being placed in the police car, he kicked and hit Deputy Scott Apple in the groin before again being stunned.

Icenhour was jailed on $2,500 bond.

Here’s the link to the full story: http://timesonline.com/articles/2008/08/19/news/doc48aa26af05428224103877.txt

Can You Believe This Crap?

So here I am reading various news stories on-line when I actually came across this headline:

Speculation over VP picks hits fever pitch

Go ahead read it again, I had to.  Fever pitch? Does the headline writer know what a fever pitch is? 

For an event to reach fever pitch status, people have to care.  When your team wins a world championship and you riot in the streets and maybe even set a couple of Buicks on fire – that’s fever pitch.  Nobody gets that excited over the choice of a Vice Presidential nominee, except maybe for the person who’s selected.

For an event to reach fever pitch status, co-workers have to chat about it around the water cooler.  You hear it the morning after every big game. “Can you believe they put him in to pinch hit last night?”  Honestly, when was the last time you heard someone around the water cooler say, “Can you believe they’re thinking of picking him as a running mate?”  Never.  That’s the kind of crap network news snobs say to each other, but the average person doesn’t really care.  In fact most Americans have never heard of the poor putz who gets selected as the VP nominee.  Most of the time, they’re a popular governor or senator from an important electoral state.

Have you ever voted for a candidate because of who their running mate was?  I haven’t, and I’m willing to guess neither have you.   If you vote for a candidate because their running mate, aren’t you really saying, “I hope the President drops dead so the running mate I like so much will become President?”

I won’t vote for or against Obama or McCain because of their running mate.  It’s just plain stupid, and you should be insulted that campaign big-wigs think they can sell you their candidate by selecting “the right” running mate.  It’s like adding more cup holders and a decorative rear spoiler to a car.  “Gee I didn’t like the car at first, but now that it has six cup holders, I’ve changed my mind.”

Of course there’s always an exception.  If one of the candidates wants to prove he’s got some stones, then choose one the following as a running mate:

1.         Me:  I’ll sit around on my ass for four years and do nothing but greet dignitaries and crap like that.  If something should happen to the President and I’d suddenly be in charge, I can always resign after taking a few trips on Air Force One to Las Vegas.

2.         Dr. Phil: What better way to ensure against an assassination attempt?  No one, and I mean no one would want this pompous gas bag in the Oval Office, so having Phil as a VP is better than 100 Secret Service agents… just so long as the President doesn’t stand too close to Phil; I wouldn’t be surprised if someone would want to get him in the crosshairs.

3.         Clint Eastwood:  Yeah, I know he’s older than dirt, but I bet he could still kick your ass.  He was a mayor once.  Could being Vice President be any harder?

4.         Monica Lewinsky:  She already knows her way around the White House and has the important numbers already stored in her cell phone.  Plus, no one will ever have to wonder what she does.

5.         Jessica Alba:  I don’t know how bright she is but she seems like a nice person; besides, if she ever commits a blunder in protocol you could always say, “Yeah, but she’s got a nice rack.”

A’s For T’s

Professor Accused Of Coping

Feels For Grades

Once again, a few academically challenged women found an easy way to get better grades – just let the professor have a go-around with their squeezies.  I don’t know who’s to blame here, or what the real story is.  Why would an established professor offer A’s just to honk these girl’s hooters?  Sleeping with them, sure… but A’s for juggling their jugs?  That’s weak – if it’s true.  Of course the professor denies it. 

If these girls did offer up their knobs for grades, why would they spill beans?  Maybe this guy did nothing, and these girls are trying to ruin his reputation.  Either way, it always seems like college gals can use more than their mind to better their grades… which is a rip-off… cause I had some female professors in college I would have… oh forget it.

Here’s the story from Fox:

A University of Iowa professor accused of fondling female students in exchange for giving them "A's" in his class had been put on paid administrative leave.

Arthur Miller, a political science professor, was charged with four counts of bribery after he allegedly asked female students to let him fondle them in return for better grades.

University spokesman Steve Parrott said the university is conducting its own investigation, separate from the criminal case. Meanwhile, Miller is on paid leave and has been barred from having any contact with students until the criminal case is resolved, Parrott said.

Miller was arrested on Friday and released from jail on Saturday.

Police said he allegedly asked to touch the breasts of four female students between May 8 and 13. In return, he would give the students "A's" in his class.

Miller's wife, Natasha Ivanova, said she doesn't believe the allegations.

"The whole situation is very sad for us," Ivanova said. "I believe these accusations are false. We, as a family, are looking forward to the day all of these charges are dropped and his name is cleared."

University police seized 47 sets of e-mails from Miller's university account. Police found correspondences with 10 students, university staff and other faculty.

E-mails with students discussed meetings about grades, an extension, a final, assistance and "grades and offer by Miller to negotiate," according to court documents.

E-mails between Miller and staff and the political science department chairman referenced the investigation.

Miller has been placed on paid administrative leave.

Here’s the link to the full story:  http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,402386,00.html

Olympic Glory

Public Horror!

Steroids Turns Ugly Woman

Into Uglier Man!

Post this one on the refrigerator so your kids can see it.  A former female East German Olympian is now a male Army Surplus store owner.  How?  Steroids… at least that’s what he (she) says.  You be the judge.

Andreas Krieger… who used to be Heidi Krieger, claims that East German athletic officials pumped her up with so many steroids, it made her want to become a man.  Considering what the East German shot putter looked like in her (his) athletic heyday, her (his) sex change may have gone unnoticed if she’d (he’d) just kept quite.

You decide:

Here are the Before and After pics!

Here’s the Story from CNN

Heidi Krieger proved herself one of the world's top athletes in the 1980s, winning medal after medal in the shot put for East Germany.

Now, the former sports star looks disdainfully at the awards, dismissing them as "doping medals" and honors that turned a woman into a man.

Heidi Krieger, the 1986 European women's shot-put champion, became Andreas Krieger after a sex-change operation in 1997. He says he had been fed so many steroids by his coaches without his knowledge that physical and emotional problems began.

The young woman's physique changed drastically, as did her feelings. "I felt much more attracted to women and just felt like a man. But I knew I was not lesbian," Krieger told CNN.

Her coaches said they were giving her vitamin pills, but they were actually feeding her Oral-Turinabol anabolic steroids.