Danehy

Three people for whom I don’t feel sorry:

• Plaxico Burress. The former New York Giants wide
receiver, who caught the winning touchdown pass in the stunning Super
Bowl win over the then-unbeaten New England Patriots a couple of years
ago, was sentenced to two years in prison for gun-related crimes. He
was taken immediately from the courthouse to a penal institution, where
he’ll be receiving different kinds of passes.

For those who missed it, last November, Burress, who has a long
history of being stupid while famous, took a loaded, unregistered gun
into New York City (a crime), then into a crowded night club (a crime),
and then discharged the weapon (a big crime). He shot himself in the
leg, which may or may not be a crime, but is certainly
entertaining.

The evolving approach taken by Burress and his high-priced attorney
was precious: No crime was committed. Well, maybe it’s against the law,
but it shouldn’t be. It’s a dumb law. The bouncer let him in the club.
He’s a celebrity and needs protection. He didn’t hurt anybody but
himself. The mayor’s out to get him. He’s a scapegoat. He’s being
picked on because he’s a) famous, b) black, c) an athlete, or d) all of
the above.

I have some knucklehead gun-nut friends who claim that New York
City’s gun laws are too harsh and that they don’t work, but
statistics tell a different story. According to the 2007 FBI report on
crime statistics, New York City has a murder rate of about six per
every 100,000 population. That’s lower than the rates in Anchorage,
Alaska; Wichita, Kan.; Colorado Springs, Colo.; and, yes, Tucson. By
comparison, places like Detroit and Baltimore have nearly eight
times as many murders per capita as New York City. Nearby Newark
has six times as many murders per capita. Even relatively pastoral
settings like Memphis, Milwaukee and Buffalo, N.Y., have rates that are
around three times as high.

To be sure, not all murders are committed with guns, but most are,
and so when it comes to being shot to death, New York City is actually
one of the safest big cities in America.

You know the seven steps of grief? A similar scenario plays out when
celebrities and/or athletes, who have skated by for most of their lives
without any sense of responsibility, all of a sudden get popped. I’m
sorry, but it’s a lot of fun to watch. You could tell that, just like
Michael Vick before him, Burress felt there was no way in the world the
charges were going to stick. Somebody would do something to get him off
the hook.

Yeah, well, not this time.

I was talking to a member of the hip-hop generation the other day
who cited all of the aforementioned things as reasons for Burress’
arrest/harassment/tough plea deal/harsh sentence. I said to him,
“Burress showed up to his sentencing with his young son and pregnant
wife. If he’s got a family, what’s he doing hitting the clubs on
Thanksgiving weekend? Or don’t familial responsibilities apply if
you’re: a) famous, b) black, c) an athlete, or d) all of the
above?”

If you want to hit the clubs, don’t get married. If you want to be
married, don’t hit the clubs. If you think you’re above it all and that
rules don’t apply to you, shoot yourself in the leg, and then spend the
next two years of your life not showering.

• Cyrus Yazdani. You probably don’t know the name, but
there are probably tens of thousands of people who are thrilled that
this little punk is going to prison. Going by the name “Buket,” this
mental giant posted videos of himself on YouTube spray-painting
graffiti on freeway overpasses and city buses in Los Angeles.

The San Jose State University graduate was already on probation for
graffiti vandalism when he got busted again. This time, the judge threw
the book at him, fining Yazdani more than $100,000 for the cost of
cleaning up the damage he’d done, and sentencing him to four years in
prison. Not jail. Prison. And knowing how the prison hierarchy is
determined, he’s got problems.

“What are you in for?”

“Spray-painting misspelled words on public property.”

I can hear the limericks in his honor already.

Too bad he didn’t realize that in felony vandalism, as in real
estate, it’s all a matter of location, location, location. If he had
done that stuff here in Tucson and gotten caught, the City Council
probably would have given him an arts grant.

• Iran’s Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. He’s strutting around the
world stage, lyin’ and denyin’ and sticking his chest out like the
little Napoleonic bantam that he is. It’s his brief moment in the sun,
although it does take the sun longer to reach him than it does
normal-sized folks.

But the time is coming, and it’s coming soon, when Israel will
deliver to him a cruise missile in suppository form. And when that
happens, I’m really, really not going to feel sorry for him at all.

However, I will feel sorry for whoever has to scrape what’s left of
him off the walls. Or they could just leave it there and call it a
fresco.

This article appears in Oct 1-7, 2009.