Skip to main content

A case of: That's just messed up!

I kept hearing "Oh, what a shame, what a great guy" comments after police found former NFL quarterback Steve McNair shot dead in a downtown Nashville condo last summer.

But the more I read about the guy, the more I think it's just another case of overpaid sports figure getting too big for his UnderArmour. Not that I think he deserved to be murdered. Just that I'm not all that surprised things went south, given the life he'd been leading.

For example, I just read an article that pointed out McNair, a married father of four, had been dating his murderer, 20-year-old Sahel Kazemi. But wait, there's more. He had at least one other girlfriend, apparently. Leah Ignagni told police McNair had spent the night at her apartment two nights before he was murdered by his other girlfriend.

Investigators learned from McNair's private security guard (who knew about the on-the-side chickybabes) that McNair was tired of Kazemi calling and bothering him when he was with his family. On the day he was killed, Kazemi had allegedly hounded McNair with text messages, telling him she needed money and begging him to be with her. Reports say he told her he was transferring money to her and would leave the house when the kids fell asleep.

Gee. What a kind, considerate fella, any way you look at it. Right? I guess money can't buy you love...indefinitely.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ho, Ho, Ho, How Many Times Can I Use "I'm too busy" as an Excuse?

I haven't had time to write. Work, swim meet volunteering, holiday decorating and shopping. But truthfully, I've not been in much of a mood to write anything anyway. Last night we put up the tree and Santa chachkies, and I drank my first egg nog of the season, so perhaps I'll be in a cheerier mood. Also, I have spent some time writing the annual Schoon holiday newsletter. If you happen to get a copy, treat it like a drinking game. Every time I make you roll your eyes, take a drink. Nog, wassail, Everclear. Whatever gets you through. One sure way to assist with merriment motivation is listening to Christmas carols. I'm not going to get into a debate over what truly constitutes a carol. You can "Jesus is the reason for the season" yourself until you turn blue; I generally lean toward the secular end of the holiday tune spectrum. And if you just gasped at my use of holiday instead of Christmas, go suck on a candy cane. It's my blog and my opinions. Deal. ...

IHATE IHOP Update

Tim went a few rounds, verbally, with the IHOP manager on Sunday and ended up getting our meal for half price. He still had to pay, though. I do not think that these people understand the severity of their incompetence. Or perhaps they just do not care. Someone commented to us that perhaps we should tell the IHOP folks what happened to the last restaurant that did us wrong. Recall the lactating masses who came out in support of us when we were booted from Hoover House restaurant in West Branch because I refused to breastfeed my baby in the bathroom? Remember the stories that ran in every newspaper and on every TV news show in the state -- and beyond? I'd like to point out that the Hoover House (which interestingly enough doubled as a venue for wet T-shirt contests on weekends) went out of business after our little incident. And for those of you who were befuddled and wondering how the police got involved on Sunday...someone from IHOP took the time to run out and write down our lice...

In memoriam...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...