Politics: “Ma’am, drop the Cookie Puss – Now!”

Lost in all the attention sucked up by Lindsay Lohan’s probation violation sentencing last week was an incident – from some weeks earlier – involving her mom in a Long Island, N.Y., ice cream store.  Police were called to the shop – I am not making this up – after Dina Lohan tried using (or abusing) daughter Ali’s “black card”, a VIP card which entitles the bearer to free frozen treats for an incredible 75 years.  (Gee, by that time, aren’t you more or less gummingthe stuff?)

Those Lohans.  Man!  A veritable one-family crime wave.

In this SunPost exclusive, I was able to track down a recording of the police transmission from a call in progress on that hot summer day at a Long Island ice cream parlor:

OFFICER:  “10-97, Dispatch.  SWAT team is deployed at 477 Bellmore.  Location is a Carvel ice cream shop.”

DISPATCH:  “10-4.”

OFFICER:  “Officers will attempt contact with subject.”

DISPATCH:  “Roger.”

OFFICER:  “Lady!  Put down the Cookie Puss, surrender the VIP card, and step away from the counter with your hands in the air.  Don’t make us have to taser you.”

DINA LOHAN:  “You wouldn’t DARE!  Do you KNOW who I AM?  I’m DINA LOHAN!”

OFFICER:  “Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”

DINA LOHAN:  “I’m the mother of LINDSAY LOHAN!”

OFFICER:  “You don’t say?  Dispatch?”

DISPATCH:  “Roger.”

OFFICER:  “Seems the Lohan clan strikes again.  Would ya believe this time it’s not the dad or the daughter – it’s the mom?  Run a warrant check for me, will ya, on one Dina Lohan.”

DISPATCH:  “Roger.”

OFFICER:  “All right, lady, I’m gonna give you only one last chance to comply.   You see all these officers?  You’re surrounded by tasers.  Now drop the Gucci bag on the floor, put down the Fudgie the Whale, relinquish the card, and step away from the counter with your hands where I can see them!  Capice?

That’s all the transmission that I was able to retrieve.

It’s as much Carvel’s fault.  The VIP card was only one of a limited issue of 75, to celebrate Carvel’s 75th anniversary, and was doled out to a select 75 celebrities.  What astonishes me is that either of the Lohan sisters made the cut.  You mean to tell me that Carvel couldn’t find 75 celebrities that didn’t include a Lohan sibling?

My guess is that Lindsay had her people make the first approach.  I think she must have misheard that “Korbel” was giving out free discount cards for its sparkling wine, so she just had to wrangle herself one.  Perfectly understandable mix-up.

An ecological disaster fouls the Gulf, a Russian spy ring is busted, a heat wave bakes the nation         – but here’s the real bugaboo spooking America now:

Miley Cyrus – gasp! – has dared to bare some skin.  Lordy, galordy.

The money-minting wunderteen spawned from the Walt Disney factory of wholesome, family-style entertainment is now – avert your eyes! – prancing around on concert stages, in public, in little more than Britney Spears’ nasty girl hand-me-downs.

People are reacting with palpitations.  Conniption fits.  Hyperventilative episodes.

They must have been under the illusion – now so rudely shattered – that the wholesome Miley wouldn’t ever emerge from her adolescent cocoon until she was 35, at which age she would finally doff her training bra and braces.

But Hannah Montana is all of a sudden showing off parts of her nubile body one doesn’t see a whole lot of in, say, Montana.  Unless one wants to tempt frostbite.

Hey people, it’s a fact of life, as certain as the sun will rise in the east – or a Lohan family member will do time:  These teenage pop princesses grow up.  Certain anatomical accoutrements, shall we say, get bigger and become more prominent.   Certain curves get curvier and certain heretofore-unrevealed areas of epidermis get revealed.

Maybe some people keep hoping against hope that someday a pop princess will arrive on the scene who – the moment that the two mosquito bumps on her chest begin to transform into full-fledged C cups, and the hormones kick into overdrive – will head for the nearest Amish farmhouse, bundle herself up in a head-to-toe burlap potato sack, then emerge, never to bare so much as a crack, crevice, mound, midriff, navel, dimple, elbow, kneecap, hump, bump, or lady lump.

But that day hasn’t dawned yet.  And I would caution these folks not to hold their breaths waiting for it to.  There’s a better chance of a member of the Lohan clan being named “Outstanding Citizen of the Year” by the Fraternal Order of Police.

Mark my word:  This has got to be every all-American teenage boy’s dream come true.  Miley Cyrus…sex symbol at last!  Many a zit-popping, skate-boarding, hormone-horny boy has been anxious for this era to dawn.  And it has!

Were I an adolescent male right now, I might be burning up the Internet to find out (a) where and when is Miley’s next closest concert tour stop and (b) how much is a ticket.

Then there would be (c) how to get the ‘rents to fork over their credit card to bankroll my carnal desire to catch a concert performance by some pop tart I probably wasn’t the least bit interested in just a week ago.  (You say she sings, mom?  Oh.  I wasn’t necessarily paying attention to that.)

Whatever you do next, Miley, be a good girl and please, please don’t go nuts and shave your head.

(Spoiler Alert) Next Year’s Super Bowl Winner is…

If you are a diehard Dolfan, or a football fan in general – avert your eyes if you don’t want to know in advance the identity of next year’s Super Bowl XLV victor.

According, that is, to two sports handicappers.

Every year around this time, you may notice in the newsstands and magazine racks of your fave bookstore a plethora of pro and college football previews of the season ahead.  It’s a cottage industry that seems to generate more and more previews with each passing year.  I counted no less than ten on my recent bookstore outing.

Two of the better-known publications have each prophetically pegged the same AFC team to go the the next Super Bowl in Dallas in February 2011.

Lindy’s Sports (“America’s Leading Football Authority”) predicts that team to beat the San Diego Chargers in the AFC Championship, then advance to defeat the NFC champion Dallas Cowboys (who will beat the San Francisco 49ers for the NFC title) in the Super Bowl.

Athlon Sports (“America’s Premier Sports Publisher”) predicts that same team to trounce the New York Jets in the AFC Championship, then go on to finish off the NFC champ Minnesota Vikings (who will defeat the Cowboys in the NFC title game) in the Super Bowl.

That same team, Athlon predicts, will finish off the Dolphins in a wild card playoff game.

The team that the NFL gods from on high are to smile down upon and shower with Super Bowl rings?  Drum roll, please…

Sorry, Dolfans, not this year:  The Baltimore Ravens.

About Charles Branham-Bailey

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