METRO COLUMNISTS

Let me say right up front that, all along, I've felt more sympathy for car dealer Ricky Robertson than anyone else connected with Big D's big-time public corruption scandal. And I suspect Robertson will get a lighter sentence than anyone else. Just a gut feeling.

Robertson faces up to 30 years and he's before the judge for sentencing today.

So far, my gut's been right on this. I was telling some colleagues last week that I figured former Mayor Pro Tem Don Hill would likely get in the 10-20 range, in large part because he's the big fish, the elected official who violated the public's trust the most. Hill was sentenced to 18 years in the pokey. And D'Angelo Lee, Hill's appointee to the City Plan Commission, got 14.

Now, I also said that if the sentences ended up in the 7-10-year-range, I wouldn't have been shocked, mainly because the feds could never trace the money back to Hill's pockets and, arguably, the gig was up before the conspirators could get a full head of steam. Hill's wife, I figured, would end up with about 7 years, but Sheila Hill got slightly more --- a 9-year-sentence.

So, here's the big question, the one my gut may be wrong about. I've thought all along -- based on testimony I sat through and government evidence presented -- that Darren Reagan would take the hardest fall. So, will Reagan's sentence rival that of Hill's? I suspect it will.

I'll let U.S. District Judge Barbara Lynn finish her work before I wax eloquent about the punishment later this week. So I'm curious what you, dear law-abiding readers, have to say about the matter.

From where I sit, Lynn seems to be doling our very measured, reasonable sentences.

In catching some of the Olympics closing ceremonies last night, as well as the Canadian tourism commercials, I kept being surprised at all the famous people who are Canadian.

They look so much like regular people.

Here's a celebrity list compiled by one proud but not famous Canadian.

The Hurt Locker (A Best Picture Oscar nominee, now available on DVD)

Incredibly tense bomb scenes. But who forgot to add plot?

Sunday's OT gold medal win for Canada was an honorable loss for the US team, which put up a fierce fight in the Olympic's final event.

I have to admit that, for me, there was no real loser here. It would have been nice to see the U.S. win the gold, but I have a sentimental fondness for Canadian players: It is, after all, their game. Canadians claim to have invented the sport; their kids start playing as soon as they can stand upright on skates; the entire country huddles around its collective TV sets on game nights. Amreicans have such excess - baseball, football, basketball, dog frisbee, tamale-eating contests and so forth. Canadians have pucks.

Years ago, I visited the Hockey Hall of Fame in Tornoto. "Hockey," a spokesman there told me with soulful earnestness, "is Canada's gift to the world."

Isn't that nice? Other nations have certaintly submitted less worthy gifts.

So I sat up at attention and sang along when the winning team sang "Oh Canada" (I know the words from visiting Canadian teams at Stars games). Of course, that's only one of Canada's national anthems. This is the other one.

Got an extra hand to spare? How about an unused arm or leg?

They're conducting a "limb drive" Sunday afternoon at Texas Scottish Rite Hospital for Children, seeking old prosthetics that can be refitted for earthquake victims in Haiti.

This event is also a photo op for ABC's Extreme Home Makeover television program, which may include some footage of the drive for a makeover they are doing in East Texas at the moment.

If you're a fan of the show, I'm told that Paige Hemmis will be on hand.

The event is 2 to 4 p.m. in the hospital atrium, 2222 Welborn St. in Dallas.

In what may be the most attention women's hockey has ever received, a bunch of people are shrieking and clawing their heads over the Canadian Olympic team's impromptu celebration Thursday.

After winning their third straight gold medal, celebrating team members spilled back out onto the ice after spectators had left the arena. They wallowed for a while in the thrill of victory, mugging for photos - and drinking beer! And smoking cigars! There are even shocking rumors of unauthorized Zamboni-driving!

Instant scandal! IOC head Freds are all huffy. Hockey Canada apologizes. Dark hints of an investigation abound.

Oh, for Pete's sake. They were excited. They were celebrating. Spectators had left the building. And it might have been their last chance.

ESPN discussion here over whether the wailing-and-gnashing would have been so severe had it been a men's team (Answer: No). Memo to Skip Bayless: Keep your shirt on, dude.

Low voter turnout has long been a topic of concern in the Latino community.

And now we see its effect again... on American Idol.

Sorry about that, Joe Munoz and Ashley Rodriguez. Little voter support meant you were among the first finalists to go.

It is astounding that four of the remaining 10 men are from the Greater DaFoWo area.

It's a relief that public airports have finally caught on that the Sartre-esque torment of waiting for a flight is eased if you can kill time by eating, drinking and buying stuff

A model in this respect is D/FW Airport's dandy Terminal D, with its pricey but varied retail options and its non-linear layout. Some of us remember the grim olden days when D/FW had a seemingly eternal single-vendor contract, a grim totalitarian affair that pretty much limited your dining options to a vile hot dog and an eight-ounce cup of lukewarm off-brand beer - a dismal meal that would cost you about $14.

As part of its massive post-Wright Amendment expansion, Love Field will expand its currently modest concession offerings, capturing more of that let's-just-eat-at-the-airport market. They're talkiing about Texas-flavored chains like On the Border and Whataburger, as well as the unavoidable Starbucks.

While they're contemplating, I wish they would also make a run at Herrera's, Shiner, Czech Stop, and, above all else, Buc-ees. Also, a pancake house with six flavors of syrup in a little carousel on every table would be nice.

When covering trials, I was always bemused by the abrupt tactical shift necessary for defendants convicted despite vigorous not-guilty claims. After adopting the righteous indignation of the wrongly accused, the perp now needs to display remorse and contrition to avoid getting served the max in the trial's punishment phase.

Shrewd lawyers thread this needle carefully in front of juries, often going with a "blame-it-on-me" strategy: I was obligated as an attorney to put this defense together, so don't blame it on my client - I was just doing my job. But since you found him guilty, we can tell you now that he's been really, really sorry all along.

Disgraced former Mayor Pro Tem Don Hill has a subtly different situation - instead of a jury, he's got seen-it-all-before federal judge Barbara Lynn to convince that he should get a softball sentence on the heavy-duty corruption charges for which he and other were found guilty last year.

Moreover, Hill will have to shift gears pretty dramatically if we wants to appear contrite. He's a lot of things - smart, righteous, self-possessed, complicated - but humble, so far, isn't one of them.

Hodge, whose political career was derailed after she pleaded guilty to a federal tax charge in connection with the city hall corruption scandal, represented District 100.
Her name's still on the March 2 ballot even though she's ineligible to serve. Some political operatives have been urging voters to cast ballots for Hodge in hopes of throwing the Democratic primary into the hands of precinct judges. That would happen if sole rival Eric Johnson doesn't win at least 50 percent of the votes.

Hodge, finally, issued a statement in which she apparently is calling off the dogs.

Maybe, just maybe, she read this column.

My column today is about Dallas' resident authority on grammar and word usage, Bryan Garner.

Colleague Bruce Tomaso tells me that he's a subscriber to a free daily e-mail with a usage tip from Garner. He said he's learned a good bit but had no idea that Garner was a local.

The e-mails come from his publisher, Oxford University Press, and you can subscribe here if interested. I have.

Are you old enough to remember when VCRs first came along and little video rental stores began popping up? I think Lori and I actually paid $100 for the privilege of joining the "video rental club" at a store near our house.

Then came mighty Blockbuster. One by one, the independents all fell away. Blockbuster stores popped up on every corner. And I remember thinking that its monopoly on the video business would never end.

But nothing lasts forever.

Dallas-based Blockbuster continues its fight for survival against Netflix and Red Box and emerging digital downloads.

I'm rooting for Blockbuster to survive. And remembering that nothing is permanent in this life.

I'm sorry to report the suicide of an unusual fellow who played into a column a couple of years back.

It began with one of those lost-and-found columns. A Dallas man found an old diary among his family's belongings, but he had no idea where it had come from.

Based on a few clues in the diary, I put out a request for information. And that led to J. David Moeller. The Chicago resident was the baby mentioned when the diary began in Dallas in 1945.

Turned out he was a real character -- a wanderer, actor and writer. An acquaintance of his informed me of his suicide last Friday, which is confirmed in the Chicago Sun-Times.

Here's one of his web sites. But if you really want a long, disturbing glimpse into his life, here's his online memoir.

This morning, Steve Blow and I took our Talking Race trick up to a retirement village in Coppell, where, it's fair to say, we were well-received. Actually, they loved me and put up with Blow.

Anyway, as I walked in, an elderly lady pushing a walker quipped, "I read your column this morning, and I hope you didn't come for our walkers."

She was referring, of course, to the updated article about the Lake Highlands couple's efforts to collect a thousand crutches, canes, walkers, wheelchairs and the like for Haiti's earthquake survivors.

A lot of folks are interested in that campaign. I just listened to one voice mail from a 91-year-old lady who wanted to know if I could come by her house and pick up a wheelchair she wants to donate. Said she's not driving anymore.

I'm hoping Steve Blow can swing by there on his way to Sunnyvale and pick the darn thing up. So hold on, Ms. England, hold on. (Seriously, I'll see if Rick Hawkins, who's in charge of this drive, has any contingency plans for such situations.)

My friend Deborah Morris sends along this link to a Time magazine essay that argues we're sending too many kids to college.

That's what I've been preaching for several years now. The college-prep curriculum in our schools may be pushing some kids to greater achievement but it's also pushing a whole lot right out the school door.

BTW, Deborah has worked with high schoolers for years through her church, and she agrees with me completely. She has seen how the expectation that every child will go to college leaves a lot of good, talented kids feeling like losers.

I spoke last night to a group of folks at the Park Cities Club, and it was great to see Joel McClendon in attendance.

I wrote a column six years ago about Mr. McClendon and his memories of the luncheon that never happened -- the one President Kennedy was supposed to have attended at the Trade Mart back in November 1963.

Mr. McClendon had a wholesale business in the Trade Mart back then -- and still does today.

He's 96 and still going to work every day (after going for an aerobics workout first).

Mr. McClendon doesn't believe in retiring, and I love his reasoning. "If you keep walking around, they can't bury you."

Awhile back I lamented that a lot of animal issues in the news -- like the fuss over euthanasia methods in Garland -- obscure the fundamental problem: Pets that aren't spayed or neutered.

If you know of animals that aren't fixed, this is the week to fix that.

The Metroplex Animal Coalition is offerieng spay or neuter surgeries for the greatly discounted price of $45. That price also includes needed vaccinations and a veterinary exam.

The hope is to reach pet owners who otherwise couldn't afford the services.

To make a reservation and find the nearest location, visit www.dfwspayday.org or leave a message at 972-671-0429.

Thanks goodness that I talked myself out of investing in a handy tool push snow off my driveway. I didn't even need a broom for this.

The magazine and television program This Old House has named East Dallas' Junius Heights as one of the five best old-house neighborhoods in the Southwest.

It was the only neighborhood in Texas so honored.

Congrats, Junies.

Call Andissu Andabo what you please. Good Samaritan? Absolutely. Hero? In my book, yes.
Read the story for yourself.

But if a guy is driving by, sees a car on fire and rushes toward it, unconcerned about the potential danger of running across LBJ Freeway (near Abrams Road) or approaching a possible explosion, then that guy has earned my eternal respect.

"He made me proud to do what I do," said Fire Capt. Todd Wilson, who noted that he hand't seen heroism of that sort in the 23 years he's been a Big D fireman.

The 39-year-old woman who was in the burning car, by the way, reportedly is OK and apparently didn't sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Intriguing read offered today by my colleague, Diane Jennings, who delved into the issue of whether inmates who've been exonerated should pay federal income taxes on their wrongful-incarceration compensation.

I say no. Texas lawmakers who pushed for compensation packages in the Lone Star state say they never intended for Uncle Sam to put his big paws on the dough.

Money quote: "We want them to get the maximum recovery that's possible for being wrongfully imprisoned," said Rep. Rafael Anchia, D-Dallas. "Just a a practical matter and a moral one, a moral basis, I don't think they should be taxed."

Apparently, the only way around paying taxes is for the feds to regard the compensation as "pain and suffering" payouts, much like with insurance settlements. Well, if spending years of your life behind bars isn't pain and suffering, then I've got a false impression of our what prison life is all about. Perhaps Congress can spend a few months behind bars deliberating the matter, and that might just clarify their thinking on the matter.

Seriously, Congress, do the right thing here and take your hands out of the pockets of exonerees who've already been shortchanged.

The snow's real nice and all, but we're on the verge of exhausting our treasure trove of "arctic blast" and "winter wonderland" cliches, feature ledes about the ringing laughter of children celebrating an unscheduled holiday, and slide shows capturing the whimsical joy buliding a snowman in the front yard and trooping inside for a steaming cup of cocoa dotted with an archipelago of marshmallows. I'm just sayin'.

I'm still plowing through the e-mail in reaction to Sunday's column about illegal immigrants and whether they should be deported or given the opportunity for legal status here.

Personally, I believe that those who have worked hard and stayed out of trouble should be allowed to stay.

Opponents of that view have provided most of the reaction to the column. But I'm gratified to see that a majority of Texans agree with me.

According to the poll I mentioned in the column, 38 percent of Texans favor deportation, but 29 percent favor a path to citizenship and 23 percent want them to stay with work visas.

Put those last two groups together and you have 52 percent of
Texans saying the immigrants should stay and get the opportunity to achieve legal status here.

That other 38 percent sure drowns out the majority in this debate.

Avatar (now in theaters)

Cinema as thrill ride. See in 3-D, if at all.

Awhile back I confessed my fascination with Pastor Melissa Scott, the widow and successor of one-of-a-kind TV preacher Gene Scott.

A half-page ad in today's newspaper says she's coming to town March 2 and 3. Oddly, the ad doesn't say where. I called the phone number in the ad (800-452-0735) and got a recording saying she will be at the Family Cathedral of Praise in Mesquite.

Apparently in the time since I last wrote about Pastor Scott and her sexy sermonizing, it has been reported that she is former porn star Barbie Bridges.

Show time... er, I mean service time is 7 p.m. both nights.