METRO COLUMNISTS

Tiger Woods' 14-minute mea culpa has detractors due to its logistics: the hand-picked audience, the no-questions-allowed, the upstaging of an ongoing tournament.

But as 'sorry' speeches go, it was excellent, one of which political handlers coping with similar scandals should take note.

--Tiger did not drag his wife up there with him. He had to stand in front of the cameras alone, thus sparing her not only the spotlight, but protecting her from obnoxious speculation that "she made her deal" and will put up with anything to save her own swanky lifestyle.

--He didn't use formulaic, self-absolving cheatin' athlete patter about "poor judgment," "bad decisions" and "moving on with my life." He pretty much owned up to being an arrogant, satyritic creep who thought he was too special to observe fundamental rules of decent behavior.

--He seemed genuingly embarrassed, coming across as a person who has come to view his excesses not as fruits of his success, but as vulgar and humiliating.

--Finally, he acknowledged that nothing he says and no amount of sincerity in saying it changes or proves anything. He seemed to have accepted that it will be a long time, if ever, before his good name is restored.

Obviously, some people aren't buying it; some sponsors may never come back into the fold; Woods' marriage may not endure. But if he has genuinely decided to become a grownup - and he's sure not the first person who enjoyed a prolonged adolescence just because it was available to him - he made a pretty good beginning.

Tiger Woods is delivering a well written statement, and he's doing a good job with it.

You may not have known Bishop Larry McGriff, who died suddenly this week after suffering an aneurysm.

But you might remember his wedding in December -- the one that hundreds had to be turned away from.

Such a sorrow.

Joseph Stack may have believed he was making a fiery and awful political statement, but he wasn't. All he proved in slamming his plane into an IRS office building in Austin was that he was a self-absorbed creep, a nut who willfully marinated in his own anger. Let's quit trying to turn this screwup into some kind of a Nathan Hale.

I keep reading hints of "yeah, but..." from commenters who seem to believe the IRS, or Wall Street fat cats, or the church, or whatever the hell else this crank was on about are enough to drive anybody crazy.

Reading Stack's lengthy farewell screed is dismaying in that it's so familiar - and so boring. There's an unoriginal sameness to the writings of these homicidal megalomaniacs: I've been persecuted, I've been cheated, none of it is my fault, I'm obsessed with my own rage, and I'm going to show the world how mad I am. It's a parallel to the wife-abuser who insists he had to do it because she pushed his buttons.

The Joe Stacks of this world are, mercifully, statistically rare. But they're not particularly special.

Not sure how else to explain this rant in which he calls President Barack Obama "intellectually shallow" and "the most incompetent president perhaps in our lifetime."

Armey must've been living in a cave for much of his existence if he really believes either of those statements.

Seriously, this sort of over-the-top rhetoric is precisely why nothing that people really care about can ever get done in Washington -- and why folks get so disillusioned with our political "system."

The caustic campaigning just never stops. Tea, anyone?

I was driving behind a red pickup yesterday with an intriguing sign across the back window:

In Memory of 'The Best Human Ever'

Wow, what a compliment! But to whom?

It seemed strange that you would memorialize someone in such a public and vaunted way. And yet in such an anonymous way.

It's an intriguing idea -- best human ever. Any nominations?

Dallas Police Chief David Kunkle isn't the only one defending the validity of his dropping crime statistics.

Former New York Police Commissioner William Bratton is doing the same in the New York Times today.

This news is a month old, but I just stumbled across it. And as a proud son of Smith County, I can't tell you how my chest swells to see the headline:

TABC Agents and Smith County Sheriff's Deputies Catch Moonshiner

It may be 2010 in most places, but not in every corner of East Texas.

Pass the rot gut.

I'm sorry. I know this is an old argument. And I know people just cannot get enough of the aw-gee canine cuteness that is the venerable American Kennel Club's Westminster Dog Show.

But, seriously, which part is the sport? The part where people try to breed their dogs to exact specifications? That's a contest. The part where they parade them in front of the judges? That's a pageant.

I will admit to being a little bent out of shape on the topic because, in the show's 100 year history, the big prize has never gone to a lab or a golden, the most superior dog varieties on the planet (although I did like that sweet beagle that won a couple of years back). The fix is always in for some kind of terrier or spaniel or a poodle with a humiliating haircut.

For sport I want to see some dogs chasing frisbees, or dock jumping, or rolling over with their feet in the air in order to get their stomachs scratched.

And I suppose that anyone interested in buying this church-turned-house for $2.4 million can pass the collection plate around at family dinners and parties.

Won't work for me. I was looking for something with a dozen bedrooms -- you know, just a good round number. This one only has 11, although, as I get older, I could certainly get accustomed to the 11.5 bathrooms this place boasts. Then again, I'd need a metal detector to find my keys.

Business columnist Cheryl Hall has an interesting tale this morning on one retailer's undercover search for decent sales people.

I wasn't surprised that most of the clerks he encountered were indifferent. I was shocked, however, to read that he spent $40 for a single pair of socks.

Mr. Frugal briefly lost consciousness.

If you have a few minutes to spare, take time to read our story today about The Toy Man of Grapevine.

It is wonderfully written by my talented colleague Avi Selk.

Moving? Need boxes?

Well, there's a sizable pile of them at the moment in the middle of Lamar Street at Wood Street downtown.

They're nicely flattened and still mostly stacked together.

And someone is arriving at his or her destination right now, looking in the back of the truck and saying "D'oh!"

I mean, seriously, did they ever think that something other than "human error" was at fault. Did anyone question the Nubian Ibex? Or the Meerkats? I've long been suspicious of the Okapi, too.

Needless to say, given what happened to the last escaped gorilla (RIP, Jabari, RIP), I think it's fair to say that the Lappet-Faced Vulture had a motive that at least needs to be checked out.

I trust that this, indeed, was a human error. But if I'm a human working at the zoo, the first thing I'm going to do when I open a gorilla's cage is make sure I know where the gorilla is. I would consider that extremely valuable information. And there would definitely be no gorillas just "wandering" around. IJS.

I'm just afraid this character is going to give terrorists a bad name.

This story of the two coyotes chasing boys in Richardson makes me wonder if the snow has driven them loco.

We live amid lots of open land, so glimpses of coyotes are pretty common. But Friday morning, when we had all that snow on the ground, a coyote was brazenly parading around right behind our house.

Even when I stepped out the back door to take pictures of all the snow, the coyote didn't skedaddle as I had expected him to.

Maybe I should have said "beep-beep" like the Roadrunner.

My husband, usually a person of fairly straightforward tastes, has developed a sudden fondness for Big Red cream soda (the diet kind), the alarmingly red beverage I usually associate with Moon Pies, Peanut Patties, and other delicacies popular in rural areas.

I can't stand the stuff myself - it tastes like cream soda with a shot of cough syrup - but it has a loyal following. And it was invented in Waco, home to the more celebrated Dr Pepper.

According to company info, Big Red was created in 1937 by a couple of chemists for a barber-supply company. They called their product Sun Tang Red Cream Soda, a name it retained until 1959, when it became "Sun Tang Big Red Soda" and later the more familiar "Big Red." For decades, it was a strictly regional product, available only in central and south Texas.

Why it has suddenly become popular at our house, I cannot say. But we're in good company - they say the late Doug Sahm couldn't get enough of the stuff.

On ABC World News last evening, George Stephanopoulos was talking about Indiana Sen. Evan Bayh's surprise announcement that he wouldn't run again.

Stephanopoulos said he talked with Bayh after the press conference and the senator said public disgust with both parties is so great right now that the next presidential election might provide an opening for "a sane Ross Perot."

Poor, H. Ross. Still a punching bag.

Perhaps a nicer way to say that would be that there's an opening for an independent candidate with fewer eccentricities.

I've gotten several direct contacts from people who want to help Rick Hawkins and his wife Terri deliver a thousand crutches, walkers, canes and the like to Haiti, including some local Girl Scouts.

I promise to update this item later and let you know when Rick has found and settled on a drop-off point --- other than his house. As I mentioned, Rick's trying to get a retailer or restauranteur with multiple spots to participate in a two- or three-day drive for the effort.

Well, Rick's been out of town and is under the weather now (Terri says he has a touch of the flu.) and should be back in the saddle, hopefully, in a few days. We'll keep you posted.

Anyway, as Rick predicted, several people indeed wrote or called to say they had a pair of old crutches or an unused wheelchair in their attic or garage, and they're eager to find such a good, magnanimous use for them.

So get to feeling better, Rick, and let's get this crutches campaign in high gear, neighbor!

You can visit here
http://www.crutchesforhaiti.com/ and click on "Find a Location" and scroll down to Texas to find Rick's contact information for now.

Of course, you probably best remember him as "Frank" Larison, the disabled military vet who ran into trouble with a Lake Highlands homeowners association about the military decals on his car. Frank won that fight.

I've stayed in touch with him since I first reported on his HOA troubles last May, as this story and this update reveal.

Well, I've kept in touch with Frank, in part, because we bump into each other at the coffee shop quite a bit. And he'd been telling me that he was contemplating moving from his Lake Highlands condo. Too much HOA pressure, he says.

And then, out of no where, comes an invitation to his wedding. Yes, Larison married on Valentine's Day at -- where else -- a Starbuck's in Flower Mound.

Sorry I missed it, Frank. But congratulations!!!!

(I tried to call Frank just to make sure he wasn't pinning his matrimonial hopes on a runaway bride. But I reckon he's on a honeymoon now --- probably at another Starbuck's somewhere!)

After going a couple of days without electricity, count me in as an enthusiastic supporter of Oncor's tree trimming program.

I can't believe some are still objecting even in the midst of cold and darkness in their homes.

My poor son and his family have been without power for four days now. They spent three days with our daughter and last night with us. They're beyond ready to get back to their own beds.

I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to say "Bring on that global warming!"

Or at least an early spring.

I'm not going to pick on the weather forecasters too much. I'm amazed they do as good a job as they do.

But it's amusing to look back a day or two ago when the headlines were saying "No accumulation expected."

And then see today's proclaiming: "Record snowfall!"

White? That's the beautiful snow outside our house.

Black? That's the inside of our house without electricity.

Jack, we're in the same shape you are. Except I'm just now getting to the office because both our vehicles were stuck in the snow in our own driveway.

My pickup remains mired, but I was finally able to get Lori's car going when things melted a bit.

What do you suppose my chances are of having a warm, well-lit home by nightfall?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Hearty thanks and a big swanky bouquet to the intelligent West Texas jury that brought back a prompt aquittal of a nurse martyred by small-town hacks and despots after she tried to report a self-evidently incompetent doctor.

Anne Mitchell and another RN at the public hospital in rural Winkler County sent an anonymous letter to the Texas Medical Board, reporting case numbers for patients they believed had been impropertly treated by a staff physician there named Dr. Ronaldo G. Arifiles Jr.

Dr. Arifiles (fictitiously represented by cartoon figure, left) has a dubious track record, including having earlier been sanctioned by the state board for substandard supervision of a weight-loss clinic in Victoria. He is reported to routinely contact patients by e-mail, trying to peddle herbal supplements. And interested bloggers have additionally turned up credible evidence that he subscribes to bogus anti-vaccine theories and touts quack nostrums for made-up diseases. Seriously, this is not the guy you want operating on Grampa's gall bladder.