Fast Eddie Friday... House cat with picture of Jesus in it's fur saves family of crack heads from house fire. I feel better already.

Ted Williams, the  homeless guy/ alky/ crack head, with the golden voice captured the hearts of Americans. People bought the bull shit the media sold them. When it comes to feel good stories we lap em up like cats to cream. For about one week Williams was the media sweetheart. Here's this shaggy guy with a mediocre 1980's style radio voice, claiming he has been sober for 2 years, and people bought it. Like a trout rising to take the fly (no Seacrest), folks bought the story, hook,line, and sinker.Williams hit the lottery. Kraft foods paid him 30 grand to pimp some cheese.  30 K will buy a whole lotta crack and Thunderbird. Williams story would have ended right there with the 30 k pay day, except for leeches like Oprah spawn Doctor Phil.  Some of Williams 13 kids, or whatever the ridiculous head count is, came out of the woodwork to get their 15 minutes. They ratted him out, told Dr. Phil and the rest of America that the absentee Daddy was still hittin the bottle and the pipe.

Prediction time........Williams comes out of rehab and is back to the bottle and glass dick quicker than you can say " Brother can you spare some change for the bus?" You don't have to be Nostradamus to figure out how the Williams story ends. The guy was shitting in peoples hedges just a few weeks ago, higher than Cooter Brown, beggin for change. He stumbled over a stack of money. His life changed. But Williams hasn't changed, couldn't have changed, not over night. Six months, a year from now, he will be king of the Cleveland hobos, or posing for pictures with Asian tourists on Hollywood Blvd.  At the end of the day, America didn't embrace Williams. We embraced the story. We made ourselves feel good because we cheered for some random homeless guy, while avoiding eye contact with the never ending stream of random homeless guys holding cardboard signs at virtually every corner in America.  The television screen softens the reality. You don't have to avert your gaze  when watching a Youtube video, and the smell of stale booze and ripe B.O. can't offend your senses through the computer screen. That's why most of us cheered for Williams. It was safe, made us feel good.


We live in a cynical real world, with good reason. In a world where 13 year old children will kill you for a 15 year old car, you learn to keep your eyes scanning your surroundings, careful not to let that gaze rest too long lest someone take offense and turn you in to a slab of cold meat. Whack jobs take a break from writing Manifestos in their own poop, to go out and dump a couple dozen rounds in to whoever happens to piss them off. Some guy with 6 goats in the middle of some Godforsaken dust bowl is wiping his ass with his left hand one day, flying planes in to buildings the next.  You never know where the next batch of buzz kill will come from. So we take a little comfort in fluffy stories about the cat that saved a family from a house fire, or some mediocre radio voice that happens to come from some shaggy homeless guy who is looking for his next hit. Never mind that the cat was just trying to get outside so the neighborhood Tom could crack her cat panties. Forget that Williams left a pack of kids behind for someone else to foot their bill.

In a few minutes we will move on from the Williams saga if we haven't already.  We will forget all about him until he pops up on TMZ or turns up in an E R after trying to cheek a hot crack pipe because the "Tree People" were after him.  Next week we will become enamored with a milk cow that has Jesus face on it's  ass, or some crazy character that goes viral on Youtube.  Then we will fall in love all over again.  We know it won't last, but for a minute we get to feel warm and fuzzy. Unicorns will dance. Midgets will cry Gummi Bear tears of joy.

Yep, it's a cynical world we live in, but we keep trying to believe.