The inquiry into whether Texus Maximus is a lying, dope-swilling criminal seems to be devolving into some sort of reality-TV show. Call it “Leaks & Shrieks.” Some anonymous source leaks a news nugget to the press — this time, to The Associated Press — and whoever has the duty in Tex’s battalion of lawyers starts shrieking like a teen-age girl who just got a Weiner pic on her cellphone.

This stagecraft annoys the mortal piss out of me. It’s like watching a couple of beered-up palookas talking shit and shoving each other prefatory to throwing hands. After a certain amount of this macho posturing, one wonders whether either party has the stomach for an actual brawl. All it’s amounted to so far is billable hours, which is great if you’re one of the shysters doing the billing. For the rest of us? Bor-ing.

If Stretch Novitsky and the grand jury have an actual case, I sure wish they’d make it before Tex needs a pair of orthopedic shoes and an aluminum walker to totter into court, helped along by the grandsons of his original attorneys.