Monday, February 23, 2009

Awesome! UConn Coach Jim Calhoun Goes Nuclear on Activist Reporter

Some freelance reporter and political activist name Ken Krayeske decided he wants to make a name for himself so he ambushed UConn men's basketball coach Jim Calhoun at a press conference Saturday.

Frankly, having covered basketball in years gone by, this isn't the time to be bringing up a coach's salary. I can only imagine Calhoun's reaction had the Huskies lost that day.

Considering how much money the basketball programs at UConn bring in to the university and the state, Krayeske is way out of bounds here.

Maybe he ought to go ask Senator Christopher Dodd whether he's overpaid.

Krayeske is described as a political activist.
Krayeske is a political activist and self-described freelance journalist who landed in the headlines after other high-profile incidents in the past.

They included his January 2007 arrest at Gov. M. Jodi Rell's inaugural parade, where Hartford police charged Krayeske with breach of peace and interfering with an officer.

Police said Krayeske dropped his bike and stepped into the parade route, a security breach they considered a potential attempt to disrupt the event. He later said he was attempting to photograph the governor for his Web site.
Sounds like a real crackpot.
I followed journalism to Syracuse University, majoring in magazine journalism. I minored in History and Spanish. I concentrated on dropping LSD and smoking copious amounts of marijuana.

I owe my political awakening to my older sister Rubi, who practiced her speech class presentation about legalization of marijuana in front of me. I was mesmerized. I had never heard of the injustices perpetrated by the U.S. government during the past century regarding the war on marijuana, and I began to research the history thoroughly.

After graduation, I landed a job at a start-up newspaper in Nevis, a tiny West Indian island nation of 9,000 people. I lasted two months because a) the publisher was broke and didn't pay me, the phone company, or the landlord on time, and b) there was serious political upheaval that made me think I was an expendable 22-year-old white guy.

The deputy prime minister's three sons were involved in a cocaine ring. One was found dead in the trunk of a burned-out car in a sugar cane field with his girlfriend. Their skeletons, their legs were sawed off mid-femur. The departure of the other two sons from Her Majesty's prison in Basseterre, St. Kitts, led to a riot. Young men dressed in fatigues, waving assault rifles, strutting down the streets, gave me the spooks.

They had a law there, too, that could have locked the newspaper doors and deported me for printing something the government didn't like. If only I had been that lucky. After 10 weeks at about 120 hours a week, I gave up.

After a brief stint working on some boats in St. Thomas, I returned home to Northwest Connecticut to make good on my student loan payments. It was there I met Ralph Nader in 1996 while working in Winsted. In 2004, I worked for his reviled presidential campaign. In between, I wrote for a bunch of newspapers, like the Hartford Advocate and I freelanced for High Times magazine, too.
Thanks to Ace for the link.

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