Guest blog by Doug Sacrison, Crime Rant intern

It was a long time coming, but now it is official: the Sonics are leaving the city of Seattle, their home for 41 years, to play in Oklahoma City.

My team has been stolen. That’s the crime that affected me most this week. The Seattle Supersonics are no more.

If you ask me, everyone is at fault.

First of all, the Sonics used to be owned by Starbucks mogul Howard Schultz. Then he started whining that he was losing money. Personally, it boggles my mind when rich people think I will feel for them if they lose money. Howard Schultz has money, he could afford to lose some.

So Starbucks decides to sell the Sonics, not to a local group, but to the highest bidder, a group from Oklahoma City led by Clay Bennett. Needless to say, I don’t buy Starbucks anymore.

Of course, Bennett says that he will keep the team in Seattle if a new stadium can be built (thus solving the money problem Schultz created), and that deep down he wants the team to stay here. Every person in the northwest who can count past four knew that he was full of crap and was excited to deliver an NBA team to his hometown ASAP. I kind of wish he hadn’t insulted everyone’s intelligence by saying that he would try to find a solution in Seattle.

David Stern, the NBA commissioner with a smug grin that would be the envy of any Disney villain, said that it was a fantastic arena ten years ago, and now won’t stop saying that it isn’t “viable.” What’s that mean? That there aren’t enough luxury boxes for other rich snobby people to pay to stand around in and not actually pay attention to the game. See? The NBA doesn’t even want regular people coming to games in the first place! Stern could have done the smart thing and stayed out of this mess, but instead he thought it would be more fun to insult us.

Many steps later, after a court battle that could have kept the Sonics here until the end of their arena lease, the mayor of Seattle stabs us fans in the back by signing a settlement that gains me, as a fan, nothing.

I just wished I wasn’t lied to so much. By Bennett, by Starbucks, by Stern, by smug Washington lawmakers who said things would be fine (yeah, I went to a couple “Save Our Sonics” rallies). I didn’t really have any say in this at any point because I’m not worth millions.

A friend of mine pointed out that since the team is owned by Clay Bennett, he can do whatever he wants with them. Unfortunately, he’s right. I used to think of sports teams as something that kind of belonged to a city, an area, the fans. Nope. They are owned by rich businessmen. And it turns out the team you root for is more like the cool toy that the neighbor kid has. It’s a lot of fun when he let’s you play with it, but since it’s his, he has the right to take it away and say you can’t play with it anymore.

I just want a little loyalty. We had the Sonics for 41 years. It was our team. There is talk of, “Oh, maybe you’ll get another team. And they can be called the Sonics.” I don’t care. It’s not the same. The team I watched, cheered for, sometimes groaned at but always loved, the team I always picked in NBA video games, the team that brought Seattle its very first championship in a major sport, is no more.

I’m sure the people in Oklahoma City are very nice. I’m sure they deserve a basketball team. I wish it wasn’t mine.

Guest blog by Doug Sacrison, Crime Rant intern

So you just sat down to watch an episode of  COPS. And why shouldn’t you? You’ve earned it. Today we’re following some officers in Flint, Michigan. Two grizzled cops with mustahces are riding around slowly.

Officer Pestronelli speaks: “So, uh, today we’re out on sag patrol. Means we’re looking for perps whose pants are too low.”

His partner, Officer O’Hoolihan pipes in, “If I can see briefs, we take ‘em to the chief,” or something in that vein.

That’s right, folks. Cops in Flint, Michigan are now out on the prowl for saggers. Don’t give them lip about freedom of speech. If someone is complaining they can see your drawers, you will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. The book will be thrown at you, and you won’t be able to catch it, because you’ll be holding your pants up.

I’m curious as to how this issue was first addressed. A theory (from earlier in the theoretical episode of COPS): A group of gruff beat cops (most mustachioed) wander into the station on Monday morning, pour themselves a cup of strong black coffee, light some cigarettes, everyone grabs a donut out of the big pink box being balanced precariously by the rook. Suddenly the chief slams the door of his office, letting the wooden shades bang loudly on the glass. The rook drops the pink box, amid some snickers from the vets.

“Listen up, everyone,” yells the chief, slamming down a folder on one of the metal tables. “We’re going to start doing things differently around here. Flint, Michigan has for too long been a cesspool of visible underwear.”

And of course the episode ends with Pestronelli and O’Hoolihan pushing a perp with visible boxers decorated with hearts into the back of a squad car. As the picture fades to black, O’Hoolihan mutters, “It just makes me sick.”

Does sagging your pants lead to crime? I don’t know. Ask someone who has done research on the subject, then giggle at that person for researching the way people wear their pants. Personally, I think the Flint cops should mabye go nab some people for committing a crime against humanity, not fashion.

And besides, the police should be happy if these supposed soon-to-be criminals are wearing their pants below their derrieres. Because when they commit a real crime, they won’t be able to run too well. Hooray!

By Doug Sacrison, Crime Rant intern

When most people hear the little ding on an airplane and see the little cigarette with the red X through it, they get the message. But not Christina Szele. Or maybe such silly rules don’t apply to her.

On a JetBlue flight from New York to San Francisco this past week, Ms. Szele needed her fix. So she struck a match and lit her cigarette. Daring flight attendant Paul Whyte saw match move to mouth and snatched it away from her, delivering a mini-lecture about her inconsiderateness.

This is not how you deal with a Christina Szele. The now non-smoking Szele allegedly began to “kick and scream.” This earned her not a pair of gold wings, but a pair of flex cuffs. In no time at all she had escaped from the flex cuffs and opted to punch Whyte in the face rather than continue to escape right off the plane.

After more physical aggression, swearing, and racial slurs (all from Christina Szele, thankfully), the flight’s captain decided they needed to land. So all the people heading for San Francisco got to enjoy the cozy Denver airport for an unexpected layover (though my understanding is that Denver is so high maybe some passengers didn’t realize they had landed).

Investigators questioned Szele about why she got so violent. She said she didn’t remember hitting anyone because she was drunk. Mystery solved. She then blamed the flight crew for her actions because they had served her the vodka. Nice! Your move, Paul Whyte.

The flight crew pointed out that they only gave her one drink. Then Szele admitted that she had beer at home before leaving for the airport.

Her argument for her foul language was that she very often uses the “F” word, so it’s no biggie. I’m sure the other passengers understood once they heard that part.

Szele faces two different charges, up to 20 years in prison, and up to a $250,000 fine. So the lesson is, if you’re going to get drunk and kick and scream and hit people and swear in public, for God’s sake don’t do it on a plane! There are plenty of places where pulling that crap is more than acceptable.

Guest blog by Doug Sacrison, Crime Rant intern

When I rode the bus, the ride was always entertaining. Some kid showed how long he could hold his breath. Someone else demonstrated his knowledge of dirty jokes that he probably didn’t get. And somebody else made a sign that said “help” or “I’m a hostage” and put it in the back window.

But now, grown-ups want to get into the school bus ride entertainment industry. And so far they aren’t doing a very good job.

Jeffrey Maret, a concerned parent in Salem, Oregon, was unhappy that his eight-year-old daughter was left at school. The bus driver apparently wouldn’t take the filthy young lady because there was milk leaking out of her backpack. This bus driver has his standards! So Maret decided to confront the bus driver about the passenger he left behind.

The confrontation involved Maret getting to the bus stop, jumping on board the bus and arguing, then being removed from the bus. Wanting to give the kids a show, he jumped back on and turned off the ignition. Then it was a no-holds barred battle to the death. Or close to it.

Violence isn’t always the best entertainment, and these guys need to understand that. The audience on the bus in Salem wasn’t that impressed. From the sound of things, most kids were appalled by the act.

Nathan Compton, a young gent on the bus, told reporters, “There was a bunch of punching, pinning and stuff like that,” adding, “It was an ugly sight.”

An ugly sight, indeed, Nathan. Perhaps entertaining in some respects, but not what these children were looking for. Compared to someone putting his hands to his mouth to make farting noises, the kids probably gave the grown-ups a C-. Tsk, tsk, Jeffrey Maret and unnamed bus driver. Kids can see that on TV.