By Chris Lane
By Jeff Balke
By Aaron Reiss
By Angelica Leicht
By Dianna Wray
By Aaron Reiss
By Camilo Smith
By Craig Malisow
I called West to see whether he could verify that KKK truly was the female who rid the county courthouse of pornography. But he must have thought I was calling about something serious, like the Kennedy Heights case, and I never heard back from him.
By the way, Karen Kay Kristopher suggests that you don't want to get in a "rassling" match with her.
She plays a "B" game of tennis, but her serve is an "A."
"I'm very strong on top," she explains. "I can slam a serve and you can't hit it back."
Shortly after the tall, blond woman summoned the police, two HPD patrol cars pulled into the lot of The Men's Club. The cops were grinning as they sauntered over.
"Hello, how are you doing?" said officer N.H. Lieke, the very same cop who had arrested KKK the previous week. After that greeting, everyone seemed at a loss for conversation.
"So you're out here again?" Lieke finally said to KKK. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"
The officers' arrival brought Kristopher's associate in off the median. She was filming the encounter with an undisguised enthusiasm.
Finally, after officer Lieke had gotten a few more grins, he reminded Kristopher to stay off of The Men's Club's property. Then he and the other cop departed.
Kristopher's video camera-toting associate turned out to be a friendly, dark-haired woman who appeared to be in her late thirties. I asked her name. "Miss Anonymous," she said without hesitation.
"Do you know there are Christian men who come here?" Miss Anonymous asked, "and those men in there feed on their weaknesses?"
"No, I didn't know that."
"They entice them with the food -- what better way to get a man in there than with good food?"
That reminded me that it was past one o'clock and I was getting hungry.
"So the fR>ood's good inR> there, huh?"R>
Miss Anonymous nodded.
Before I could make my first-ever trip inside The Men's Club, I thought to ask Miss Anonymous how it was that she could vouch for the quality of the establishment's eats. But just at that moment -- and I'd like to think that Karen Kay Kristopher had said a little prayer for me -- a guy I used to work with named Gary Jack Willis materialized in The Men's Club parking lot, grinning dementedly from behind the wheel of a shiny black Lincoln Town Car and motioning me over.
God was telling me it was time to go.
"Shoot his picture," I suggested to the JP candidate as I headed for the Lincoln. "He's a real heathen."
Kristopher shook her head. "I'm out of film," she said.
I'm not sure Karen Kay Kristopher would agree, but one of the great things about Texas is that there's no party registration. That means you can vote in the primary election of your choice, no matter how you may have voted in the past. So whether you're an advocate of same-sex marriage, or believe in something really far out, such as clean air or public education, you can participate in the Republican primary. And this year, if you do, you'll have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: you can vote against Phil Gramm twice.
That's right -- you can kick him while he's down, stomp on his fingers and rub his nose in it. Gramm's name is still on the ballot in the GOP presidential primary, and, of course, he's also running for re-election to his Senate seat. (It's great to have a fallback option, after you've spent $20 million to discover money can't buy you love.)
But I know you Republicans -- the two of you who've read this far -- are thinking, "We don't go to the polls to vote against candidates; we want somebody to vote for." Well, there are 11 other options in the presidential primary -- "No Comprometido" looks to be the best qualified -- and in the Senate race, there's Hank Grover.
The Press doesn't endorse candidates, since we figure our readR>ers are much morR>e intelligent thR>an we are and don't need us telling them how to vote. But I'd like to point out that back when Phil Gramm was still living with his mama in Georgia, Hank Grover had already earned the distinction of being Texas' first Republican state senator since the Reconstruction, and in 1972, he came very close to becoming the state's first GOP governor. He was a Republican back when it took cojónes to be a Republican in Texas, before the arrivistes like Phil Gramm ruined the party.
There are many issues on which I disagree with Hank Grover (he's a Pat Buchanan man: anti-NAFTA, pro-oil import fee, against abortion under any circumstance), and some on which I agree, but at least he's got the courage of his convictions. And above all, he's got one sterling credential to recommend him: Grover, to paraphrase Phil Gramm paraphrasing that country song, disliked Phil Gramm way before it was cool to dislike Phil Gramm. "He's the biggest phony in the world," says Grover of the AWOLsenator from Texas.
And Hank Grover would never, ever run for president.