Besides leaking classified information, Bradley/Chelsea Manning apparently is leaking testosterone

C’mon, man.

Or apparently in this surreal case, c’mon lady.

You can’t make this up.

With weird stuff like this, who needs bizarre fiction?

Bradley Manning, a day after getting 35 years for leaking classified information, now claims to be a female named Chelsea Manning and wants Fort Leavenworth to provide hormone treatment.

What the hell is he/she smoking?

Fort Leavenworth provides three squares a day but hormone treatment is not on the menu.

Medical experts and LBVT advocates claim that denying Manning treatment could be seriously dangerous to his/her mental health.


Vick the pick over Nick

Well, I guess everybody in the Delaware Valley, Lehigh Valley and Berks Valley (oops, we have no valley I guess despite what the folks in Oley claim) can sleep now.

The Great Eagles Quarterback Derby has reached the finish line: Chip Kelly has anointed Michael Vick as his starter.

All of you who bleed Eagle green and have been turning blue, you may now exhale.

Indeed, Vick has been more glittery this preseason than Lady Gaga.

But we all know that Vick comes wrapped in a cloak of china and often breaks when a passing robin breaks wind.

Still, Kelly’s creative mind seems to be moving the Birds’ offense into an epoch of prosperity and light.

It appears as if whoever holds the throttle, the aerial circus should soar in majestic flight worthy of an Eagle.

Nick Foles, too, has had a crackerjack preseason and rookie Matt Barkley, after a slow start in the preseason opener, seemingly has grasped the offense as firmly as a drunk grasps a bottle of bourbon.

So the question now is whether the Eagles should trade Foles despite Vick’s egg-shell brittle exterior.

Foles’ value may never be higher. The kid has uncanny accuracy and makes hiccup-quick decisions. But like most kid QBs, he does turn the ball over too often. Still, his potential should attract quarterback-needy teams like a light bulb attracts moths.

With Barkley and former Oregon star/Kelly disciple Dennis Dixon, they would have decent depth, especially in Kelly’s quarterback-friendly offense.

Whatever the denouement of this Eagles’ season, the journey should be more fascinating than Lindsay Lohan’s psychological profile.

It’s about a dozen exits past time for the Washington Redskins to drop their racist nickname

Riley Cooper’s drunken, angry dropping of the N-bomb certainly threw a gigantic spotlight on racism in America.

In the fallout of the media tsunami Cooper’s racial slur unleashed, people started to once again focus on the racist nickname the Washington NFL franchise stubbornly clings to like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver.

For decades, American Indian activists and others have been asking, urging and haranguing the Washington Redskins to ditch their nickname, calling it a racist slur and an insult to Indians.

And now Slate, a national, general interest website, no longer will refer to them as the Redskins. Granted, that won’t have Roger Goodell staring at the back of his eyelids every night.

Washington owner Daniel Snyder has brushed off the controversy with arm waves at “tradition,” “competitiveness,” and “honor” and vowing that “we’ll never change the name. It’s that simple. NEVER — you can use caps.”

As a lifelong NFL junkie, I realize the history of the Redskins but the nickname needs to go.

The problem is there are not enough vocal and prominent American Indian activists.

Can you imagine the screams of Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson and others if there was an NFL team whose nickname was the plural of the N-word?

That would become such a tinderbox it would singe tectonic plates.

Obama to Putin over summit: Nyet

I’m not sure why it took so damn long, but at least Barack Obama finally has realized that Vladimir Putin will find more ways to hose you than a Manhattan con artist.

In a rare diplomatic rebuke, Obama today canceled his Moscow summit with Putin, who reportedly stopped flexing his man boobs and burst into tears of regret upon hearing the news.

The Obama administration has been as hot as a waffle iron over Russia’s harboring of NSA leaker Edward Snowden and Moscow’s stubbornness on other key issues such as missile defense, human rights and Putin’s continuing support of Syrian blood monster Bashar al-Assad.

The final straw evidently came when Putin offered asylum to A-Rod and Justin Bieber.

Obama still will attend the Group of 20 economic summit in St. Petersburg, Russia and thus burn through more tax dollars than Leonard Tose once did Atlantic City gaming chips, but a top White House official said the president has no plans to hold one-on-one talks with Putin while there.

Take that, Vladimir, and please refrain from flashing the middle finger from Russia with love. Sarah Palin might be watching from her Alaskan backyard.

A-Rod’s 211-game PED suspension now the biggest number in a career populated with big numbers

If A-Rod weren’t so damn vain, he likely would have “666” shaved in his hairline.

If you’re looking for the worst human being since Judas, look at Alex Rodriguez.

He is the most disgraced man in baseball, by a par 5.

As expected, Major League Baseball today hit Alex Rodriguez with a PED-related suspension of Tolstoy length — 211 games.

The ban takes effect Thursday but A-Rod is expected to appeal, which would allow him to play for the Yankees until an arbitrator decides his fate.

The appeal process likely will cover the remainder of the season, which figures to encompass a tawdry media circus until Rodriguez is forever thrown into the dustbin of history like Shoeless Joe Jackson and Pete Rose.

Rodriguez always oozed an abundance of talent and motivation, dying to be the best player in the game.

So he turned to PEDs like kids once turned to PEZ. For what? To hold every record? To be better than even great?

The man who so long ago was supposed to be the “clean” home run champ that would erase the stain of the tainted Barry Bonds became a corrupt man with corrupt stats.

Notoriously involved with HGH proponent Anthony Galea and Biogenesis, A-Rod was dirty as far back as 2003 when he flunked a steroid test.

Rodriguez was done in by two compelling personality shortcomings that rode in tandem: his astonishing levels of narcissism and insecurity.

And now he is the infamous face of PEDs.

It’s not a face he likely will kiss in the mirror like he once did in his halcyon days as baseball’s richest man.

Community treasure BCTV needs some treasure. If you’re single and not coyote ugly, you can help!

Berks Community Television has been THE non-profit community television station in the world — including the Congo, Lapland, France, Peru and Tibet — since its inception 30-some years ago.

It fosters community dialogue in a more profound and critical way than say Facebook, Twitter and smoke signals. By the way, I am a big fan of social media and its contemporary communications assets.

That being said, social media tends to be primarily narcissistic, superficial and shallow. BCTV is exponentially more community centric and provides a corridor for disparate segments of society to interact in a rational manner with more depth than Lake Michigan.

Please note that I previously mentioned that BCTV is a non-profit enterprise. As its past president, I know only too well the economic challenges it faces in continuing to provide the Berks and beyond community with quality programming (and that includes Dance Party, my friends, which you know you watch because you love to watch the alternative to Dancing With The Stars).

BCTV’s prime fundraiser is its annual Octoberfest auction, which by dumb luck, usually is held in October.

This year’s Octoberfest kicks off on Monday night, October 21 at the Crowne Plaza Reading.

If Howard Cosell, Dandy Don and the Giffer still were alive, they undoubtedly would be there. Oh, that’s right. Frank Gifford apparently still has a pulse.

BCTV is looking for single people of all ages (OK, you have to be at least 21 and if you’re 91 don’t expect to draw much action) who aren’t hideous or vampires to participate in a bachelor/bachelorette auction that evening.

This is a fun way for bachelors and bachelorettes to help raise funds for BCTV and perhaps find their Romeo or Juliet who have been MIA on eHarmony.

Even my wife is contemplating a quickie divorce so she can participate. That just shows you how passionate she is about BCTV and how non-passionate she is about yours truly, despite my abundant charms.

The dates that our couples will go out on will be double dates or group dates to ensure that all participants are comfortable.

Bidders for the bachelor/bachelorette auction must be at the Crowne Plaza that evening and when they register to bid they will have to sign a code of conduct pledging to act in a professional, appropriate and respectful manner on the date and will meet their date at the date venue.

This is going to an auction with class, not some tawdry meat market.

If you’re interested in being one of our bachelors or bachelorettes, contact me at 610-236-4747 or email me at

Who knows? You just might meet the person of your dreams and help BCTV at the same time!

And if you’re married, still come out that night and join the party and bid on some of the wonderful premium sports, arts and crafts, and other auction items.

Plus we will also will be honoring the Reading Royals on their Kelly Cup championship season that evening right after their new season pucks off.

As you can imagine, Zeke his legendary self will be in the house that night as well and turning a cold shoulder on the MNF tussle between the Minnesota Vikings and New York Giants, whose players are unbelievably hissed that they have to play and won’t be at the dazzling bachelor/bachelorette auction.

The floundering Phillies do nothing and are nothing

The trading deadline came and went for the Phillies.

They didn’t buy or sell.

They did nothing.

Their season has faded into irrelevance.

Their dominance has receded into the mists of history.

Their devoted fan base has shrunk like a Chippendale dancer in a cold pool.

Their future is about as dim as Edward Snowden’s in Russia.

Even Charlie Manuel’s shambling gait and speech patterns no longer amuse.