I hate to start out the new millennium writing about a stupid criminal, but there are so many of them around I seem to have little choice.

Grady is from Biloxi, MS, where gambling is lawful. Grady drinks too much when he’s losing money and that’s what’s happening on this holiday outing.

Two bouncers have already warned Grady that if he doesn’t clean up his act they’ll show him to the door. Moments later Grady finds himself upside down on the front lawn.

Grady tries to re-enter, but a bouncer looking like an off-duty tackle for the New Orleans Saints explains things in a way Grady can’t fail to understand.

Grady goes home and pouts while having another drink or three. Now here comes Grady’s stupid part:

He telephones the casino and says he’s coming back to the club armed with high-powered rifles, a bazooka, and a backpack filled with high-powered explosives. "Unless," says Grady, "you pay me $100,000 for the injuries I just got when you threw me out."

The bouncer who answers the phone tells Grady they’ll be happy to pay him $100,000. "Where do you want us to leave the money?"

Grady, whose mouth always starts running before his mind gets in gear, gives the bouncer his home street address, apartment and zip code numbers. "I’ll expect the money in one hour," Grady says as he slams down the phone. "I reckon I showed them."

It doesn’t take an hour - more like 30 minutes - and there’s a knock on the door. All smiles, Grady opens up, only to find himself standing face-to-face with members of the Biloxi Police Department’s SWAT team outfitted in full riot gear - body armor, helmets, gas masks, MP-5s - the whole works.

No weapons are found in Grady’s apartment but he is arrested for making threats. The grand jury will be looking into Grady’s case soon. Meanwhile, Grady is spending the holidays in the Biloxi slams.