Deadbeat Dad Is A Classic Example Of The Freak Parade

Sometimes, chronicling Pasco County's goings-on is like having a spot on the couch in Jerry Springer's green room. At any given moment - this week, for instance - the alert Pasco observer may find himself surrounded by unruly guests prepping for their moment on stage.

Seriously. What passes for routine behavior in Pasco is proof enough that Springer (or Maury, or any of those silly judge shows) doesn't need contract actors performing nutty scenarios invented by writers to fill five hours every week. The local police blotter overflows with aspirants to shows feeding off America's least common denominator.

Have a seat. Let's see who strolls in next.

Maybe it's characters in the "Restraining Orders Gone Nightmarishly Bad" episode. Or, "Babysitting Adventures With Your Unemployable Addict Loser Friends."

Maybe it's "Gun-Brandishing Minors And The Adults Who Enable Them." Or possibly, "Reunited: Scam Artists And Their Astonishingly Gullible Victims."

Craziness Rules

And then there's one of my all-time favorites, "Deadbeat Dads And The Women Who Dismissed The Obvious And Abundant Warning Signs."

Cue Jerry: "We're talking today with out-of-work tile-layer David Earley, who fathered four babies with his former wife, Sharon, and since their divorce has scarcely paid a dime toward his children's upkeep.

"Court records indicate he owes nearly $165,000 in back payments, and is digging himself deeper into arrears at a pace of more than $300 a week. David, wave to the audience.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Earley: "It's crazy. It's absolutely crazy."

Yes. Yes it is.

With Pasco's sordid tales being posted to TBO.com, the comparison is even more apt, anonymous commentators fulfilling the role of smug, superior, fist-shaking audience members who reliably turn on each other, applying to the task the notorious trio of contorted logic, fractured grammar and abysmal spelling.

None of which limits the entertainment value of all this serial casting of invective. This would be the point, I suppose.

Consider It Grand Larceny

Anyway, back to David Earley and his 15 minutes of infamy. He roams largely because, as News Channel 8 reporter Mark Douglas explains, there are so many deadbeat parents and so few investigators.

Sharon Earley is told her ex-husband's arrest is a low priority, despite a warrant extending from 2007 charging him with felony arrearages. Lower, even, than Sharon Earley's interest in vetting her ex-husband the first time they set up housekeeping.

Quoted by Douglas, David Earley whimpers about his fugitive status: "It scares me to death. It really does." Really-really? Oddly, in his case, fear fails to motivate; instead of energizing good-faith efforts, it appears only to fuel excuses. The state doesn't want him to work, or it would restore his license. (Are there no buses? Are there no carpools?) Besides, tile-laying work has dried up. (All of it? If so, what are other tile artists doing to pay their bills?)

Enough about the poster child for parental irresponsibility. What we wonder is whether the local sheriff's office would be so disinterested in establishing David Earley's whereabouts if, instead of failing to make payments, he had conspired to steal $165,000 from members of his family.

OK, it's not Bernie Madoff territory, but in the world of Sharon Earley's children, being out that much money probably means more than whatever actor Kevin Bacon was scammed out of. Perhaps David Earley should have his fears realized.

If not for the youngsters who have been so long deprived of their father's financial affection, then for the ability of a celebrity prosecution to focus the minds of others in similar situations. Rather than aspiring to join the daytime television freak parade, perhaps they would be motivated to do the right thing.