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Happy trails, Serge and his Ibaka….

By now, I’m sure you’ve heard about the big Thunder trade.

Last night, Sam Presti and the Oklahoma City Thunder traded Serge Ibaka to the Orlando Magic for Victor Oladipo, Arvydas Sabonis’s son and something called an Ersan Ilyasova. Although I like the trade from a basketball perspective, the news is kind of bittersweet here at the home office. Serge was always one of my favorite players, and although he once modeled for So6ix, we truly appreciate all the contributions he’s made to the Thunder, the Oklahoma City community, and TLO web traffic over the years.

You see, back in 2013 we were the first website to let everyone know that Serge Ibaka is quality, high-character, selfless guy who will happily take a pic with you whenever he stops by the local Kia dealership for an oil change.

serge ibaka

Because athletes are generally selfish, vain, prima donnas who hate their fans and never want to be bothered, the refreshing pic of Serge happily posing with a car salesman in Oklahoma was a big hit on the Internet. Bill Simmons referenced it a couple of times in his articles and podcasts, and a quick Google image search reveals that just about every major sports website has re-posted it at some point. I guess we probably should have watermarked it like that Emily Sutton bikini pic.

Anyway, on behalf of Oklahoma City Thunder fans everywhere, I’d like to wish Air Congo the best of luck with Orlando, and even better luck getting out of Orlando. He was one of my favorite players, and at one point in his career I seriously thought he was going to be the next Rasheed Wallace (minus the emotional baggage). He’ll be missed – especially by heterosexual women and a lot of the people you’ll find at Pride this weekend.

Joleen Chaney is going back to KFOR!!!


Yesterday was a typical afternoon at the KFOR studios on North Britton.

I had just wrapped a production meeting with Promo Joe and news director Natalie Hughes where we discussed ways to promote the station’s upcoming investigative series on unregistered sex offenders who may be posing as copperhead snakes and mountain lions near local elementary schools, and was standing by the break room watercooler talking with Lorne Fultonberg about the no-bake cookies Scott Hines brought for everyone the day before.

While Lorne was rambling about how the cookies were a bit too sugary and needed more peanut butter, we were interrupted by the long, howling, distressed cry of a female voice screaming “Whhhhy! Whyyyyy!”

Alarmed that Gaylon Culver or the Social Media Bandits may have escaped their cages, we quickly grabbed some bear mace and darted out the break room into the “Cavanaugh Corridor” – a long narrow hallway lined with photos of Linda Cavanaugh from the last eight decades that connects the newsroom to administrative offices. The cries were coming from the last door on the left, which opened into the makeup room. I heroically ran to the room and peered around the open door. Huddled in the back corner sitting against the wall with her knees raised into her body and hands covering her face was Abby Broyles.

“Whhyyyy! Whyyyy!” she sobbed over again like someone had just repeatedly hit her in the leg with a club at the Olympic figure skating trials.

Loren and I ran to her. She was wearing a white KFOR polo shirt. She smelled like Bath and Body Works and Irish whiskey.

“Abby. What is it?! What’s wrong?” I asked.

She snapped to and lifted her head, but didn’t answer. She looked up into the corner of the room and stared at nothing as salty tears and watery purple lines of mascara dripped down her face.

“Is everything okay,” Lorne asked. “Do you want one of Scott’s no-bakes? That will cheer you up. They’re delicious.”

“No… No thank you” she said while wiping away her tears with a thin, watery tissue. “I’m full, and they really needed more peanut butter.”

Lorne and I looked at each other and raised our eyes. I guess he was right.

“What’s bothering you,” I asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Abby sighed and let off a little laugh under her breath. “Not unless you have a time machine.” She then handed me her phone. On the screen staring back at me through smudges and fingerprints was the following tweet from Lance West:

5 Metro Places to Dump Your Kids This Summer


Children are a total burden. When I see all of my married friends, begging and pleading with their obnoxious brood to just show some semblance of human decency towards them, desperately trying to hold back the tears of failure, the tears of a wasted life, the tears of a forced loss of freedom, I can’t help but realize it’s worth dying alone than having to deal with all the absolute bullshit that comes with parenting. At least that’s what my parents told me.

And really, this is made so much more evident during the Summer months as I see soccer moms and the dad from Cats in The Cradle trying to figure out every single aspect of their children’s day while running low on cash, time and, above all, patience. That’s why I enjoy offering them the unsolicited advice of giving up and just dumping the brats off with a five dollar bill at Old Paris and allowing them to fend for themselves. It’s what many of our pre-coddle society parents did to us and we turned out okay. For the most part.

Listen, mom and dad: cut the cord and gain a little peace of mind back, if only for a few hours. Here’s a list of local places that I’m sure will be happy to hold your precious angels, if only for an afternoon.


1. “Splash Pads”

What the Hell happened to all the public pools? All of them are gone and replaced with what my brother told me are called “splash pads,” wherein streams of dirty sewer water shoot up from the ground like a piss-poor sprinkler system in your neighbor’s front yard. All that’s missing is the Slip-n-Slide made from discount garbage bags and dangerous gigantic clown hat flying high into the air.

Patrice Douglas no longer wants that cushy $250,000 TSET job…


Someone better start a Go Fund Me!

According to The Oklahoman, Patrice Douglas has “declined” that much ridiculed, chastised, and generally hated by everyone with a soul $250,000-a-year job offer with TSET.

Via NewsOK.com:

Patrice Douglas on Wednesday declined a $250,000-a-year offer to work for a state agency overseeing tobacco settlement funds.

The lucrative offer, which is $100,000 more than Gov. Mary Fallin makes, stirred criticism from the public and elected officials.

Douglas, a former mayor of Edmond and a former member of the Oklahoma Corporation Commission, said she was disappointed the job offer didn’t work out.

Will you look at that!? We finally found a person in Oklahoma who’s “disappointed” that our Tobacco Trust Fund Settlement dollars will not be used to unnecessarily pay an establishment politician $250,000 a year to lead an organization of 22 people. Granted, it’s the politician who had the $250,000 gig pulled out from under her who’s disappointed, but at least somebody is disappointed by it.

Let’s cut to the hysterically out-of-touch, void of reality quote Patrice gave to paper:

Mary Fallin’s right-hand man is in trouble… again

preston doerflinger

Back in January of 2015, we first reported that State Finance Secretary Preston Doerflinger – one of Mary Fallin’s most trusted advisors and the man overseeing our state’s budget calamity – was arrested on DUI-related charges after he was spotted having a drunken argument with a woman in a parked car near one of the 10 worst 7-Elevens in the Oklahoma City metro.

Because he’s not poor or a minority, has friends in very high places, and can afford an attorney, the charges against him were eventually lowered to a speeding ticket as part of a plea deal. The only catch is he had to go through assessment and treatment, attend DUI school and AA meetings, and maintain a clean driving record.

I’m not sure how the DUI school and AA meetings are going, but it looks like Doerflinger is struggling a bit with maintaining a clean driving record. Last week, he was ticketed by OHP in Tulsa for not wearing a seatbelt and driving with a revoked license stemming from his early arrest.

The Oklahoman‘s Nolan Clay has the details:

Finance secretary accused of driving after license revoked

Oklahoma’s secretary of finance, Preston Doerflinger, has been ticketed twice this month, accused of driving after his license was revoked and of not wearing a seat belt.

An Oklahoma Highway Patrol trooper issued the tickets after stopping Doerflinger, 44, about 8:20 a.m. June 13 in Tulsa County.

At the time of the stop, his driving privileges were considered revoked for 180 days by the Department of Public Safety, records show. The revocation began June 8.

Before we continue, are we really supposed to believe that he was pulled over for simply not wearing a seatbelt? I guess it could happen, but unless you’re a minority and they’re looking for an excuse to pull you over, cops rarely stop people for simply not wearing a seatbelt. It’s usually an add-on offense that accompanies another charge. Then again, cops seem to have a thing for Preston Doerflinger. We took a look at Doerflinger’s driving record on OSCN, and let’s just say he has a lot of experience talking to cops during traffic stops: