By Aaron Reiss
By Angelica Leicht
By Dianna Wray
By Aaron Reiss
By Camilo Smith
By Craig Malisow
By Jeff Balke
By Angelica Leicht
Threatening a tanker in an extremely lame way, as it turns out. "While I was riding along, I kept thinking, 'This sucks for these guys [who came] from out of town, because no one is even going to get that this is related to Mad Max, because you've got two fairly normal motorcycles traveling well behind a tanker,' " Fenner says. "People were merging in and out. We were using our signals."
Sounds very postapocalyptic. All they needed was a "baby on board" sunshield.
The cops met them at the Drafthouse and pored through an ordinance book to see what charges could be brought. Eventually they came up with "obstructing a highway" and "filming a documentary without a permit," which you should keep in mind the next time you want to whip out the camcorder at the Riverwalk.
There were also two weapons charges -- the Eagle Scouts had knives with them. They probably also had a slew of merit badges, but that apparently doesn't violate San Antonio law.
Carlon Scott of southeast Houston was one of three locals recently named in a federal lawsuit for illegally downloading movies. The Motion Picture Association of America filed the suits April 13 as part of its latest antipiracy sweep.
Scott wouldn't comment on the case, and neither would her attorney, Shanna Hennigan. All of which sucks, because we had a very pressing question: What the hell kind of taste in movies do you have? Among the films Scott is accused of downloading are White Chicks, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and 13 Going on 30, all of which are probably available used at Blockbuster for $1.99. Would it kill you to mix in a Hotel Rwanda?
Facing a court suit over these movies is like getting overdue library fines for a Danielle Steele book. The exposure is worse than the penalty.
MPAA president Dan Glickman, in a statement announcing the suits, said, "You can click but you cannot hide."
Sometimes you wish you could, however.
Tower of Power
It's hard to believe that the city's problem-plagued Houston Emergency Center could get even more fiasco-tastic, but it's true. Officials are seeking to put up a 480-foot communications tower, which isn't going over too well with residents of the North Shepherd neighborhood.
"We remain stumped and bewildered by the city's plan to build this monster," says resident Joseph Amante, who called the proposal "neighborhood suicide."
The tower would violate just about every city ordinance imaginable if it were a private edifice for a cell-phone company, but the city doesn't have to abide by those rules.
HEC officials told City Council the tower is needed in case all other communications systems fail, which -- considering the problems since its opening two years ago -- seems like a given.
Residents should take heart, however. Councilman Mark Goldberg, a consistent critic of the facility, said he'd been informed that all those communications systems would be obsolete in five or six years anyway.
Hey, if these people didn't want to live near a huge tower that might not be needed, they shouldn't have moved Oh, that's right. The city and then-mayor Lee Brown unilaterally decided to put the HEC there over the area's objections.
That decision was "sort of a raw deal" for the neighborhood, Mayor Bill White told residents.
Sounds like they should get used to it.