Skip to main content

How many "bad guys" can you find in this article?

A brief perusal of this story the other day was all it took to bring it here for discussion.  It's worth a read-through  just for the entertainment value, but here are the salient points:

A Tennessee psychiatrist is paid by the ... city? county? state?   Dunno.  It's never really specified.  But at any rate, he's paid by somebody to assess those charged with sex crimes and then refer them for treatment.

  • According to the story, this psychiatrist also runs a private clinic.  "A state probation employee" states that about 75 percent of these individuals are referred, by the doctor, to this clinic.
Fine so far.  Questionable dealings, to be sure.
  • A small-press publication called Just Busted pays employees to deliver copies to stores.  For each copy sold, the employee gets 14 cents, "under the table," in cash, as reported by Joshua E. "Cornbread" Kilgore.  
Hmm.  More questionable activities.  In addition:
  • The owner of Just Busted is alleged to have accepted bribes to not publish offenders' mug shots.
Mr. Kilgore has:
  • Committed statutory rape, with his wife as initiator.
  • Written two bad checks at a grocery store, extending his probation by two years.
So, aside from the journalism-school dropout who wrote the piece, and whoever slapped a kid with a name like "Cornbread," we have a sex-offender and check-bouncer, an alleged tax-evader and bribe-taker, and a psychiatrist who is violating codes of ethics by referring offenders to his own clinic, where they pay for their treatment.

But plenty of local readers are sure to feel the greatest amount of outrage at this description of the psychiatrist:

Asked about the treatment program, Kilgore said, "I personally have a problem with the doctor. I believe in God; he don't. He uses "GD" in front of the class. I did not respect him for that. I did not think it was very professional."
I would love to place a bet that this statement made the difference between an extra two years' probation for Cornbread and two years behind bars for passing bad checks.  And that before those two years are up, some "investigative panel" will find cause to revoke the doctor's medical license and bring him to the pages of Just Busted.  Ostensibly, for the ethics violation, but in reality, for his atheism.

Think I'm kidding?


Popular posts from this blog

Memoir - The Year of Kent State

by The Urban Blabbermouth
I wanted to write a fictional memoir and it got away from me. 

I was born in the Year of Kent State. I didn't know. I was watching a cable channel specializing in historical programs, in this case, newsworthy events from the 1970s. The Ohio National Guard shot 13 unarmed students protesting the Vietnam War on the Kent State University campus. Four students died. By the time I was aware of a bigger world than my own, Kent State passed into history.

Im gonna git u Sukkah

by The Urban Blabbermouth [who may or may not be shown in the photo above... - v-E] ~ True story. I am walking to my car and I notice a couple of Jewish fellows, twenty somethings, with the bouquets of what looks like bamboo or palm. I know they are Jewish for they look Hasidic. They are wearing long black jackets, wide brim black fedora hats, and have curly sideburns. In truth, I classify all Jewish who dress like this as Hasidic although they may identify themselves differently. They are standing near the corner canvassing passersby.

Climbing to New Heights

by The Urban Blabbermouth
It started when I was ten.  I was riding shotgun with my father when a small plane crossed the highway in front of us.  The plane floated gently to its landing, like it had all the time in the world.  It was beautiful.  I knew then I wanted to be a pilot.  

I dreamed of soaring with the clouds and flying through them.  I could go anywhere the crow flies.  No stuck in traffic following a road as laid out by some anonymous engineer.  I could fly with the birds, although, I never thought myself a bird.  I loved the freedom.

But, I fear heights.  

It's not just any heights, it's low heights, the kind you get with stairs, balconies, bridges, and landing airplanes.  When I fly on airlines as a passenger, I look out the window at thirty thousand feet, no fear.  Somewhere between six feet, my height, and thirty thousand feet, airplane's height, lives my fear, a mysterious feeling that emerges from my stomach and rises up into my chest.  I can't…