Like a lot of people, I was smitten by Texan Renee Zellweger the first time I saw her. (And by one of the Zellweger look-alike moms I subsequently saw at one of Mr. B.’s first little league games.) But I knew the Hollyweird Renee was a few tortillas shy of an enchillada even before she married (and quickly divorced) that Hat Act Chesney–I wonder, did he take that stupid-looking black straw hat off in bed? Probably not.
So I was prepared for Renee’s latest big snoozer: her crush on that worm of a one-term ex-president Jimmy Carter. But, for me, the real news comes from Ace of Spades: the poor creature has turned over her bank account to Scientology. She’s another believer in Xenu’s imprisonment of sinful souls in volcanoes–one of the least toxic idiocies of the fraud. Don’t tell Jimmy, Renee. Southern Baptists (as you should know, having grown up in their midst) ain’t fond of that malarky. But me? Well, I’ve already got two former Infantry OCS buds who believe in UFOs, though only one of them asserts that the UFOs are actually running everything. So good luck, Renee. You’re going to need it.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 