Arguably Texas’ best-known drug war casualty, Tyrone Brown will soon be released from prison on the terms of a conditional pardon issued by Gov. Rick Perry last week.
Brown was 17 years old when he took part in an armed robbery 17 years ago; no one was injured, and Brown was initially given probation for his role in the crime. However, when a drug test came back positive for marijuana, Brown’s probation was revoked and Dallas Co. District Judge Keith Dean sentenced him to life in prison. Dean’s actions came into question after The Dallas Morning News reported that the judge’s treatment of Brown was far different than his treatment of well-connected murdered John Alexander Wood, who Dean allowed to stay on probation even after Wood repeatedly tested positive for cocaine use – Wood was even allowed to quit taking the drug tests.
The disparity in treatment – which Dean has, to date, declined to explain – prompted a grassroots campaign to free Brown. Finally, on March 9, with the support of the Board of Pardons and Paroles, the Dallas Co. District Attorney’s Office and Judge Dean, Perry granted Brown a conditional pardon, meaning Brown will have to meet several requirements – that he live with his mother, Nora, report to a parole officer, get a job, and see a therapist – in order to remain free. Perry declined to grant a full pardon, which the BPP reportedly recommended.

When the Olympic Torch Relay came through Juneau, Alaska, in 2002, high school senior Joseph Frederick was ready: as the relay passed through the neighborhood Frederick stood on the sidewalk – not school property – and unfurled a large banner that read “Bong Hits 4 Jesus.” What, exactly, that meant is open to interpretation. Could it be that he was referring to the history of Cannabis and its contemporary relation to Jesus? Maybe. Could it be that he was just giving a shout out to God’s Son? Sure. Could it be that he was simply looking to get on TV? Absolutely.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what he meant, because school principal Deborah Morse didn’t bother to ask before walking up to him, demanding he lower the sign. She then snatched it from his hands when he refused to comply. Back at school, Morse suspended Frederick for five days for an alleged violation of the school’s zero-tolerance, anti-drug policy. Confronted with that punishment, Frederick pulled a little Thomas Jefferson on the principal, explaining that he was simply exercising his right of free speech. That didn’t go over so well and, without any other reason, Morse increased Frederick’s suspension to 10 days. Frederick cried foul and with the support of the ACLU of Alaska, sued the school for censorship. The district court ruled against him – ruling that his BH4J sign “directly contravened” school board policies “relating to drug abuse prevention,” (even though that makes no real logical sense), but the 9 th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals reversed, agreeing that the school had violated his right to free speech. High school principal Morse – represented by former government attorney-whore Kenneth Starr, no less – appealed to the Supreme Court, which is set to hear the case on March 19.

After winning their season and home opener last weekend over the Las Vegas Gladiators 57-36 Austin traveled to the Philips Arena in Atlanta and lost to the Georgia Force 60-51 Sunday afternoon. After trailing for most of the game Austin got within two with 46 seconds left and made a failed onside kickoff attempt which led to another Force touchdown and the Wranglers' first loss of the season. Quarterback Adrian McPherson completed 30 of his 45 passes for 344 yards and four touchdowns. Kevin Nickerson led Austin in receiving with 13 receptions for 146 yards and two touchdowns. The Wranglers travel to Orlando on Friday for another challenging Southern Division matchup against the Predators at 6:30pm. That game can be be heard on AM 1300 the Zone and www.austinwranglers.com.

“Oh man,” says Pastor Richard Gazowsky as he approaches the mic following a packed and noisy screening of the competition documentary about him, Audience of One. “Look guys, you know I’m crazy, or else you’re not very intelligent,” he tells us in what must be one of the best Q&A’s I have ever witnessed at this or any other festival. For most, Gazowsky’s presence is a post-screening surprise; for me and a few others who had been tipped off to his presence by Austin-based editor Kyle Henry, it has been a source of some intense worry throughout the screening. One can’t help but wonder what he and his family and congregation would think of their representation, while laughing and cringing to the ethically harrowing story of Gazowsky’s impossible dream to shoot a Christian blockbuster, “Star Wars meets The Ten Commandments,” as Pastor Richard describes it.

How else would they title a story about a gay (former NBA) basketball player who recently inked an endorsement deal to pimp bald-head razors?

While the crowds at the Screenburn Arcade were obviously drawn by the pimped-out Yaris games-mobiles, and or pit their talents against all-female pro-gamers the Frag Dolls, they were also looking for cool kit. Hands down that still went to Shadow Garden, an interactive projection game where your shadow is the controller. Created by local IT genius Zach Simpson, it's more intuitive than a Wii-mote, and a better interface than Vista. there were cues of kids, teens and adults wanting to spend time crushing the color out of sim-sand, or attracting virtual butterflies.

If you missed it, it's part of the the Austin Children's Museum permanent collection, about five minutes walk from the ACC.

The premiere at the Paramount last night of What Would Jesus Buy?, a feature-length doc about performance artist-cum-prophet the Rev. Billy and his Church of Stop Shopping was amazing for several reasons. The first of which being simply how awesome the flick was, following Billy from his NYC base through the heartland in December to protest the commercialization of Christmas and our unsustainable, consumption-driven society with humor and direct action. But just as sweet was the good reverend and his choir's spirited performance and Q&A after the screening. The last question of the evening came from a young man in the balcony (producer Morgan Spurlock was the first moderator I've seen pick the cheap seats). To paraphrase, he said, "Reverend Billy, we've got a Wal-Mart coming to Austin. Will you come back and help us?"

"We will return!" boomed Billy. "[We'll fight] the Wal-Mart coming to Northcross! We will be sweat free!" he screamed to the shrieking audience.

So good to know the reverend's on top of everything.

I found the mystery stairs! They're next to the escalator on the southern most side of the building facing west. Pristine and well lit. Someone riding in the sarcophagus that is called an elevator told the assembled that the stairs are only for use in case of fire. I began having evil thoughts.

For many indie films, fests like South By Southwest function as cast and crew screenings. Moms and Dads fill the seats. Cousins and extras and gaffers laugh at anything and everything. But the crowd at the Dobie to see Love and Mary Sunday night might set a new record for homerism. First a second screen had to be opened to handle the masses who made the trek from Houston for the love story about a girl caught between two very different twin brothers (but played by the same actor, natch). Then they applauded the credits with genuine enthusiasm. Finally, they dominated the Q&A like GOP plants at a Bush rally. "Was this based on your family members?" a family member asked. "Had you worked on this script long?" a cousin quizzed. (Five years was the answer from writer/directer Elizabeth Harrison.) "Do you expect to win an Academy Award?" intoned, well, nobody. One obvious complaint about the amiable flick would be the high quirkiness quotient, but there in the third row is Pappy, the model for the film's Pappy. Over there the brother who battled allergies with a special plastic bag suit. Well, the guy in the audience at least opted for cotton. But there's something special about watching a film girded by hometown supporters clad in rose-colored glasses. For a moment you're living the dream. Fof a moment anything is possible.