Mighty 'Mique

If you watched the ESPYs Monday, you probably noticed that host Samuel Jackson was plumb crazy about Chamique Holdsclaw, who looked like a super model with muscles in her shimmery ice-blue gown. Jackson, a native Chattanoogan who kicked off the show wearing orange and white tennis shoes, managed to contain himself when the ditzy Carmen Electra (how ditzy? So ditzy she is Mrs. Dennis Rodman, that's how ditzy) said the winner of the best basketball player award was "Sha-Meek Holdsclaw." Jackson raised the roof and did a kind of Dirty Bird dance both times Holdsclaw's name was called.

Where's a Victims' Rights Advocate When You Need One?

Most alarming headline of the week, courtesy of the News-Sentinel: "Jury favors shooting victims in lawsuit against gun makers."

Praise the Lord and Put on the Ritz

It was glitz and glamour and old time religion at the Candy Factory as the congregation of Peace and Goodwill Missionary Baptist Church celebrated the 6th pastoral anniversary of the Rev. John Jordan with a banquet. Jordan was resplendent in a black tuxedo with a red bow tie that matched his wife's long red sequined dress.

"All the way to the floor, girl," said Diane Jordan, County Commissioner from the First District and sometime gospel singer. Mayor Victor Ashe made an appearance and proclaimed it the Rev. John Jordan Day, and the New Travelers gospel group entertained. There were gifts and a poem written for the occasion by church member Nicole Ramsey.

Also in attendance were Joe and Tonya Armstrong, Thomas "Tank" Strickland and Beale Bourne, who was the official photographer for the event. The congregation at Peace and Goodwill has grown from 80 to some 400 since Jordan has been at the helm.

A Dog's Life

The Lady Vols' Smokey has got problems.

"Even the announcers are calling me Smokette," says Bobby George, the guy inside the furry brown dog suit. He's dying to get rid of the hairbows behind his ears, affixed there to distinguish him from the men's Smokey mascot. But even his protest is somewhat, ummm, gender-confused.

"I think it's a sexist view of what a girl should be, and I think it should go."

Smokey's most recent public appearance outside the confines of Thompson-Boling Arena may not have helped his (her) argument. It was at the Mardi Gras parade, where he was in full, well, drag.

"I did not have the bows in that day," he says, somewhat indignantly. "I had my mask on and a crown on, and they still called me Smokette."

It makes him sick as a dog to think about it, but George now has competition. A waddling, ungainly inflatable Smokey has been introduced this year, and has inspired a strangely pervasive fan hostility. Recently, while goofing around with Blowup Smokey during a game, George "accidentally" (he says) deflated the vinyl beast, and feared he would wind up in the doghouse. But it turned out to be a wildly popular course of action.

"I kicked his compressor. It was a total accident, but now people want me to deflate him all the time. I just feel sorry for his parents up in the stands."