Mr. Noid has managed to stay out of the news since then. My best guess would be that Domino’s Corporation is keeping him well-supplied with dough.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Noid Returns
Does anyone remember the Dominos Pizza “Avoid the Noid” campaign? It featured a nasty red-suited character who attempted to ruin Dominos’ deliveries. With Domino’s Pizza, you could avoid the noid. Just about everyone except Kenneth Lamar Noid. A former mental patient suffering from paranoid schizophrenia, he concluded that the Domino’s corporatipon was out to get him. Sometime in the 1990s, Mr. Noid stormed into an Atlanta Domino’s store with a gun, taking hostages. He demanded $100,000 and a pizza. No word on what he wanted on his pizza. He ultimately surrendered to police and was tried on charges of kidnapping and armed robbery, but was found not guilty on reason of insanity.
Mr. Noid has managed to stay out of the news since then. My best guess would be that Domino’s Corporation is keeping him well-supplied with dough.
Mr. Noid has managed to stay out of the news since then. My best guess would be that Domino’s Corporation is keeping him well-supplied with dough.
Ted Knight
Most people remember Ted Knight as the clueless anchor Ted Baxter on The Mary Tyler Moore Show or from Caddyshack. Ted Knight was born Tadeus Wlabysaw Konopka. During World War II, he served in the Combat Engineers, specializing in mine removal. His service was so exemplary that he was repeatedly decorated for bravery. Indeed, he received the Bronze Star five times. As a comedian, Ted Knight has his ups and downs, but his comrades in the Engineers were grateful for the fact that as a mine detector, he never bombed.
The Crying Game: A Hairy Situation
One time, when I was in London, during my second year of law school, I was stretched out on a couch reading a book when I heard a young woman from the undergraduate program crying and shrieking and waiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiling at the top of her lungs. She would cry and cry and gasp and then cry some more. I looked over and the young woman’s boyfriend was patting her on the back as she cried and cried and cried. I didn’t know her well, only enough to say hello. I debated what to do. Her boyfriend clearly had the situation well in hand, but a fellow human was in distress, and I wanted to help.
So after about a minute, I walked into the law center’s pub, put a fifty pence piece in the Coke machine, returned to the lobby, pressed the can of Coke into her hand. I said, “Here. Whatever it is, have a Coke and smile.”
This actually managed to settle her down a bit. A moment later, I turned to a friend of hers and asked in amazement what on Earth had set her off in such a manner. The reply I received stunned me. “She just got her hair cut and doesn’t like the way it looks.”
I considered this for a moment and when the young woman had finally settled down, I said, “Young lady, there are three things I want to say to you. First, I am so relieved to know that you didn’t just lose your whole family in an accident. Second, you look great and your hair looks great. Third, don’t you think that if anyone around here ought to be crying about the way their hair looks, it ought to be me?”
So after about a minute, I walked into the law center’s pub, put a fifty pence piece in the Coke machine, returned to the lobby, pressed the can of Coke into her hand. I said, “Here. Whatever it is, have a Coke and smile.”
This actually managed to settle her down a bit. A moment later, I turned to a friend of hers and asked in amazement what on Earth had set her off in such a manner. The reply I received stunned me. “She just got her hair cut and doesn’t like the way it looks.”
I considered this for a moment and when the young woman had finally settled down, I said, “Young lady, there are three things I want to say to you. First, I am so relieved to know that you didn’t just lose your whole family in an accident. Second, you look great and your hair looks great. Third, don’t you think that if anyone around here ought to be crying about the way their hair looks, it ought to be me?”
The English Eddie George
In 1900 or thereabouts, Winston Churchill did a speaking tour of the United States. On that trip, he met...Winston Churchill. You can find that story in his book “My Early Life.” Ironically enough, the American Churchill was: 1) a professional military officer who graduated from the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, 2) a published author many times over and 3) a politician. He served in the New Hampshire State Legislature and made an unsuccessful run for the governor’s office in 1912. When the two men had lunch, the English Churchill declared his ambition to become Prime Minister. (Even in his mid-twenties, Jenny Jerome’s son had a high view of his career prospects, though he did have to wait 40 years to achieve that goal.) It’s funny that two unrelated men with the same names should have so much in common. By the same token, I think it’s hilarious that two unrelated men with the same name should be so spectacularly different.
I recently learned of Edward Alan John George, GBE, PC, DL, born September 16, 1938. The man is perhaps England’s most famous banker. He capped a great career in banking by being head of the Bank of England for ten years. He was then named Baron of Saint St. Tudy in Cornwall. I’ve never been there, but I hear it’s quite nice. Mr. George earned the nickname “Steady Eddie,” which strikes me as a great name for a banker. I’d much rather do business with a person so nicknamed than one named “Slick” or “Sleazy.” In order to lure him to speak to a group, one must come up with a five-figure fee. (Editorial comment: apparently, someone thinks the guy knows what he’s doing!)
If Mr. Edward Alan John George were to check into a hotel in New York, London, Paris, Tokyo or just about any other place, I’m sure he would get the red carpet treatment. If, however, he were to attempt the same thin in Columbus, Ohio, common decency would dictate that someone needs to tell him about his Ohio namesake: Edward Nathan George, born September 24, 1973. At this point, English readers are probably scratching their heads, while Ohio readers are laughing out loud. If not, the results are probably embarrassing. I can see a 70-year-old English gentleman walking up to the check-in counter at the Hyatt Regency, announcing that he wishes to check in under the name of Eddie George. At that point, the counter person would say, “Right…and I assume you’ll be using Eddie George’s credit card?” To which George would reply, “Certainly.” The hotel employees would either fall down laughing or call the cops or both.
For the benefit of anyone who has never been to Columbus, Ohio, Edward Nathan George, better known as Eddie, #27. He is a very pleasant young black gentleman who stands six-foot-three with a playing weight of 230 pounds. (That 16 and a half stone to English readers.) He appears to have been forged from the highest-grade steel. He is also blessed with foot speed that enabled him to run faster than a terrified gazelle. He achieved undying fame in Columbus as winner of the 1994 Heisman Trophy as the top player in all of college football. He went on to a spectacular career in the National Football League, retiring as one of the top 20 rushers in the history of the game. He retired at the ripe, old age of 29, a millionaire a couple dozen times over.
So if the former head of the Bank of England ever visits Columbus, perhaps he’ll enjoy having lunch at the restaurant that bears his name: Eddie George’s on High Street, just south of the Ohio State campus. Another irony: as dissimilar as the two Eddie Georges are, it would be an interesting question as to which one of them has a higher net worth. Both men are undoubtedly worth well into the eight figures.
Just when you think there couldn’t be any more unusual name coincidences in this case, the Ohio State Eddie George is married to a striking woman who is a professional singer. The English Eddie George is married to a woman named Vanessa Williams. (No word on whether that lady tried to become Miss America.)
Several years ago, my father was hosting an old friend of his from his hometown in Arkansas. They visited the Woody Hayes Athletic Facility and happened to meet Eddie George. My father introduced himself, and his old friend and they shook hands with Eddie George. During that brief encounter, Mr. George was quite pleasant and well-mannered and made an all-around great impression on my father. Several years later, my father was in the Ohio State University Hospital awaiting triple bypass surgery. When I spoke to him on the phone, he mentioned that Eddie George’s team, the Tennessee Titans, were in the NFL Playoffs and said, “I hear Eddie George is hurt. I hope he gets to play.” I considered this for a moment, then replied: “Dad, reality check: Eddie George is more than fifty years younger than you and makes fifty times the money you do. You’re going in for triple bypass surgery and he might have a strained hamstring, and you’re worried for him? What’s wrong with this picture?” Happily enough, both my father and Eddie George are both doing quite well, thank you.
I recently learned of Edward Alan John George, GBE, PC, DL, born September 16, 1938. The man is perhaps England’s most famous banker. He capped a great career in banking by being head of the Bank of England for ten years. He was then named Baron of Saint St. Tudy in Cornwall. I’ve never been there, but I hear it’s quite nice. Mr. George earned the nickname “Steady Eddie,” which strikes me as a great name for a banker. I’d much rather do business with a person so nicknamed than one named “Slick” or “Sleazy.” In order to lure him to speak to a group, one must come up with a five-figure fee. (Editorial comment: apparently, someone thinks the guy knows what he’s doing!)
If Mr. Edward Alan John George were to check into a hotel in New York, London, Paris, Tokyo or just about any other place, I’m sure he would get the red carpet treatment. If, however, he were to attempt the same thin in Columbus, Ohio, common decency would dictate that someone needs to tell him about his Ohio namesake: Edward Nathan George, born September 24, 1973. At this point, English readers are probably scratching their heads, while Ohio readers are laughing out loud. If not, the results are probably embarrassing. I can see a 70-year-old English gentleman walking up to the check-in counter at the Hyatt Regency, announcing that he wishes to check in under the name of Eddie George. At that point, the counter person would say, “Right…and I assume you’ll be using Eddie George’s credit card?” To which George would reply, “Certainly.” The hotel employees would either fall down laughing or call the cops or both.
For the benefit of anyone who has never been to Columbus, Ohio, Edward Nathan George, better known as Eddie, #27. He is a very pleasant young black gentleman who stands six-foot-three with a playing weight of 230 pounds. (That 16 and a half stone to English readers.) He appears to have been forged from the highest-grade steel. He is also blessed with foot speed that enabled him to run faster than a terrified gazelle. He achieved undying fame in Columbus as winner of the 1994 Heisman Trophy as the top player in all of college football. He went on to a spectacular career in the National Football League, retiring as one of the top 20 rushers in the history of the game. He retired at the ripe, old age of 29, a millionaire a couple dozen times over.
So if the former head of the Bank of England ever visits Columbus, perhaps he’ll enjoy having lunch at the restaurant that bears his name: Eddie George’s on High Street, just south of the Ohio State campus. Another irony: as dissimilar as the two Eddie Georges are, it would be an interesting question as to which one of them has a higher net worth. Both men are undoubtedly worth well into the eight figures.
Just when you think there couldn’t be any more unusual name coincidences in this case, the Ohio State Eddie George is married to a striking woman who is a professional singer. The English Eddie George is married to a woman named Vanessa Williams. (No word on whether that lady tried to become Miss America.)
Several years ago, my father was hosting an old friend of his from his hometown in Arkansas. They visited the Woody Hayes Athletic Facility and happened to meet Eddie George. My father introduced himself, and his old friend and they shook hands with Eddie George. During that brief encounter, Mr. George was quite pleasant and well-mannered and made an all-around great impression on my father. Several years later, my father was in the Ohio State University Hospital awaiting triple bypass surgery. When I spoke to him on the phone, he mentioned that Eddie George’s team, the Tennessee Titans, were in the NFL Playoffs and said, “I hear Eddie George is hurt. I hope he gets to play.” I considered this for a moment, then replied: “Dad, reality check: Eddie George is more than fifty years younger than you and makes fifty times the money you do. You’re going in for triple bypass surgery and he might have a strained hamstring, and you’re worried for him? What’s wrong with this picture?” Happily enough, both my father and Eddie George are both doing quite well, thank you.
The Always Misquoted Charles Erwin Wilson
Charles Erwin Wilson of Columbiana County, Ohio was Chairman of the Board at General Motors when Eisenhower took office in 1953. Eisenhower asked him to become Secretary of Defense. During his confirmation hearings, one senator asked Mr. Wilson if there might not be a conflict between him serving the Defense Department after so many years at General Motors. Everyone thinks he said, “What’s good for General Motors is good for the country,” which makes him sound like a megalomaniacal company man. What Wilson actually said was, “For many years, what I have believed is that what is good for the country is good for General Motors and vice versa.”
More than half a century later, General Motors is filing for bankruptcy, which is a terrible thing for America.
More than half a century later, General Motors is filing for bankruptcy, which is a terrible thing for America.
Paul Newman, Tony Zale and John Bindon
Paul Newman’s first big screen role was playing the middleweight boxer Rocky Grazuano in the 1950 film Somebody Up There Likes Me. Anyone who has seen pictures of Rocky Graziano can appreciate the irony. It’s like Charlize Theron playing Phyllis Diller.
As part of his preparation for the role, Newman worked out very hard and even did some sparring with Graziano’s real-life boxing nemesis, Tony Zale. Apparently, at one point, Newman overdid the “getting into the role thing’ and learned exactly how hard Tony Zale can hit, even ten years after he retired. As a result of that mishap, Zale was not allowed to play himself in the film. Newman was a bit gun-shy about sparring with him again.
Many years later, Newman made The Macintosh Man. The director, John Huston, was a notorious practical joker. During the course of filming, Newman got into it with a member of the cast playing a heavy named John Bindon. This did not strike onlookers as a particularly bright idea because Bindon was five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than Newman. Further, Bindon was a really, really, really bad guy. For him, acting was a sideline. His full-time occupation was being a collection specialist for London’s notorious gangsters, the Cray Twins. Bindon had done prison time and was acquitted on a murder charge that many people thought he did not deserve. In the film, there is a scene that takes place in a house by a very tall, steep cliff. Newman, wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt, walked into the house and onlookers heard what sounded like an extremely acrimonious argument between Newman and Bindon. A few seconds later, they saw a blue-jeaned and checked shirted figure fly out of a window and fall onto the rocks below. Horrified, Huston and other cast members ran into the house, only to discover Newman and Bindon rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically about the prank they had spent weeks setting up.
John Huston managed to have the last word. When he recovered from his shock, he managed to say, “Way to go, Bindon. You threw the wrong dummy out the window.”
p.s. John Bindon is no longer with us, but he did achieve one bit of immortality on YouTube by inspiring a song that celebrates his name. Just search “John Bindon” to listen to a bit that is extremely funny and extremely raunchy. You have been warned.
As part of his preparation for the role, Newman worked out very hard and even did some sparring with Graziano’s real-life boxing nemesis, Tony Zale. Apparently, at one point, Newman overdid the “getting into the role thing’ and learned exactly how hard Tony Zale can hit, even ten years after he retired. As a result of that mishap, Zale was not allowed to play himself in the film. Newman was a bit gun-shy about sparring with him again.
Many years later, Newman made The Macintosh Man. The director, John Huston, was a notorious practical joker. During the course of filming, Newman got into it with a member of the cast playing a heavy named John Bindon. This did not strike onlookers as a particularly bright idea because Bindon was five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than Newman. Further, Bindon was a really, really, really bad guy. For him, acting was a sideline. His full-time occupation was being a collection specialist for London’s notorious gangsters, the Cray Twins. Bindon had done prison time and was acquitted on a murder charge that many people thought he did not deserve. In the film, there is a scene that takes place in a house by a very tall, steep cliff. Newman, wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt, walked into the house and onlookers heard what sounded like an extremely acrimonious argument between Newman and Bindon. A few seconds later, they saw a blue-jeaned and checked shirted figure fly out of a window and fall onto the rocks below. Horrified, Huston and other cast members ran into the house, only to discover Newman and Bindon rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically about the prank they had spent weeks setting up.
John Huston managed to have the last word. When he recovered from his shock, he managed to say, “Way to go, Bindon. You threw the wrong dummy out the window.”
p.s. John Bindon is no longer with us, but he did achieve one bit of immortality on YouTube by inspiring a song that celebrates his name. Just search “John Bindon” to listen to a bit that is extremely funny and extremely raunchy. You have been warned.
Art Schlichter’s Attorney
Art Schlichter is a textbook example of how thoroughly compulsive gambling can ruin a man’s life. Schlichter was an extraordinarily talented quarterback at OSU in the late 1970s and early 1980s. In January of 1982, the Baltimore Colts made him the fifth player picked in the NFL Draft. It was all downhill from there. Schlichter signed a contract that gave him a half-million-dollar signing bonus. He gambled it away in a few months and was half a million dollars in debt to bookies. (Schlichter was dumb lucky in the people he selected to gamble with. When he was late on his payments, they threatened to inform the NFL. Had he been dealing with “wise guys,” he would have had good cause to fear for his life.)
He turned in his bookie and was suspended from the NFL for a year. That should have been enough to wise up anyone. For Art Schlichter, it was the beginning. He gambled again and again and was banned from the NFL. He has never been reinstated. He went to prison for concocting a fraudulent investing scheme to pay his debts. While inside, he hooked up with a doctor, and together they hatched another scheme. When they were released, the doctor would pose as a specialist in the treatment of compulsive gambling. So good was the doctor that he even cured the infamous Art Schlichter. And they would then ask for millions of dollars in startup funds. They were back in prison very quickly.
In the twenty years after he left Ohio State, Schlichter was convicted of felonies six different times, spending time in prisons in several different states. He did manage to remain free long enough to have a short stint as a disc jockey in Las Vegas. (Las Vegas? What’s wrong with this picture?) He was also married and fathered two children.
The Schlicters are now divorced and if I ever meet Mrs. Schlicter, I would love to ask her what she was thinking.
When I was in Alaska, I read a story about Schlicter going back to prison again, and the article mentioned the name of Schlichter’s public defender. I tried to call her in Indianapolis. I learned that she was no longer in the office. I did a bit more checking, putting in a call to the Indiana Supreme Court. Upon reaching her, we had an interesting conversation. What follows should be an object lesson in the dangers of representing a complete sociopath.
The young woman, quite understandably, did not tell me the whole story, but this is what I managed to piece together. At one point, Schlichter tearfully begged her to bring him a cell phone so he could call his kids, whom he missed terribly. A few days later, one of Schlichter’s friends brought her a cell phone. Against her better judgment, she brought him a phone in the full knowledge that it was a clear violation of jail regulations.
Shortly thereafter, Schlichter again begged her to bring him a cell phone, as that one had been confiscated. After all, what man doesn’t want to speak with his children. Once again, Art’s mysterious friend brought another cell phone. If she had a shred of sense, she would have thrown it in the dumpster. Instead, she tried to bring it to her client. She was caught in the act.
For this transgression, she had to resign her job and received a six-month suspension from the Indiana Supreme Court. Art, of course, had been using the phone to place bets. When I asked the ex-public defender what she had been thinking, she could only reply, “He’s very convincing.”
Around 2005, Schlichter was released from prison. To my amazement, he has managed to stay out of prison and is a color commentator on a radio show. If anyone who reads this happens to see Art Schlichter, you have been warned. Remember, it’s “No, Art, I will not float you a loan.” “No, Art, I don’t want to buy any cheap tickets.”
I think of Schlichter every time I visit the Franklin County Jail. Whenever the guards ask me if I have any cell phones, I want to ask, “Do I look like Art Schlicter’s chump?”
If I ever meet Art Schlichter’s ex-wife Mitzi, I will have to ask her what she was thinking. In the first place, I don’t think it’s a good idea for a woman to marry an ex-convict. Second, I later learned that, on the way back from their honeymoon, Art announced that they were going to have to sell all of their wedding gifts to cover his gambling debts. For some reason, Mitzi stayed with Art for nine-and-a-half years. The thought of what Art’s repeated trips to prison put his daughters through makes me shudder.
He turned in his bookie and was suspended from the NFL for a year. That should have been enough to wise up anyone. For Art Schlichter, it was the beginning. He gambled again and again and was banned from the NFL. He has never been reinstated. He went to prison for concocting a fraudulent investing scheme to pay his debts. While inside, he hooked up with a doctor, and together they hatched another scheme. When they were released, the doctor would pose as a specialist in the treatment of compulsive gambling. So good was the doctor that he even cured the infamous Art Schlichter. And they would then ask for millions of dollars in startup funds. They were back in prison very quickly.
In the twenty years after he left Ohio State, Schlichter was convicted of felonies six different times, spending time in prisons in several different states. He did manage to remain free long enough to have a short stint as a disc jockey in Las Vegas. (Las Vegas? What’s wrong with this picture?) He was also married and fathered two children.
The Schlicters are now divorced and if I ever meet Mrs. Schlicter, I would love to ask her what she was thinking.
When I was in Alaska, I read a story about Schlicter going back to prison again, and the article mentioned the name of Schlichter’s public defender. I tried to call her in Indianapolis. I learned that she was no longer in the office. I did a bit more checking, putting in a call to the Indiana Supreme Court. Upon reaching her, we had an interesting conversation. What follows should be an object lesson in the dangers of representing a complete sociopath.
The young woman, quite understandably, did not tell me the whole story, but this is what I managed to piece together. At one point, Schlichter tearfully begged her to bring him a cell phone so he could call his kids, whom he missed terribly. A few days later, one of Schlichter’s friends brought her a cell phone. Against her better judgment, she brought him a phone in the full knowledge that it was a clear violation of jail regulations.
Shortly thereafter, Schlichter again begged her to bring him a cell phone, as that one had been confiscated. After all, what man doesn’t want to speak with his children. Once again, Art’s mysterious friend brought another cell phone. If she had a shred of sense, she would have thrown it in the dumpster. Instead, she tried to bring it to her client. She was caught in the act.
For this transgression, she had to resign her job and received a six-month suspension from the Indiana Supreme Court. Art, of course, had been using the phone to place bets. When I asked the ex-public defender what she had been thinking, she could only reply, “He’s very convincing.”
Around 2005, Schlichter was released from prison. To my amazement, he has managed to stay out of prison and is a color commentator on a radio show. If anyone who reads this happens to see Art Schlichter, you have been warned. Remember, it’s “No, Art, I will not float you a loan.” “No, Art, I don’t want to buy any cheap tickets.”
I think of Schlichter every time I visit the Franklin County Jail. Whenever the guards ask me if I have any cell phones, I want to ask, “Do I look like Art Schlicter’s chump?”
If I ever meet Art Schlichter’s ex-wife Mitzi, I will have to ask her what she was thinking. In the first place, I don’t think it’s a good idea for a woman to marry an ex-convict. Second, I later learned that, on the way back from their honeymoon, Art announced that they were going to have to sell all of their wedding gifts to cover his gambling debts. For some reason, Mitzi stayed with Art for nine-and-a-half years. The thought of what Art’s repeated trips to prison put his daughters through makes me shudder.
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