Friday, February 29, 2008
“The city's SWAT team was disbanded in November after officials learned of racy pictures taken during a trip team members made to the New Orleans area in 2006 to help Hurricane Katrina victims. The photos show the unit's commander and other officers posing with waitresses from a Hooters restaurant in Alabama who appeared to be holding police firearms.”
Let me see if I understand this; the Hoboken SWAT team volunteered to go down to New Orleans to help during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, they had party to blow off steam with some cute waitresses, pictures were posed and snapped showing everyone having a good time, nobody was slapped around or shot and somehow this is an embarrassment to the City of Hoboken, New Jersey. I’d have to file this under, “Give me a “honkin” break!”
While it may have been a less than stellar decision to pose for the pictures, the idea of making this into more than an internal investigation followed by letters of reprimand to each of the officers shows how intolerant our society has become on minor issues while turning a blind eye to real scandals. The news media has played this into an event worth a fortune; not interested in the outcome as long as viewers and readers continue to make it profitable. I suppose as long as the SWAT team is diverting all the attention the real scandals in New Jersey won’t be remembered, the parking garage scandal, the medical center fiasco or that deal with Ms. LiCausi which makes the stink from broken sewers smell like a spring flower arrangement.
I guess going to New Orleans and having fun on Bourbon Street is scandalous by nature; isn’t that what going there is all about, have a good time doing things you can’t do almost anywhere else? Of course, if you’re there to work you can’t do that sort of stuff on your off time. This looks more like a Saturday Night Live skit and I’m waiting for Church Lady to scold the entire police department, “Goin’ straight to Ha-el”, heavy accent on Ha-el”.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
“Agency officials, testifying Wednesday before the oversight panel of the House Homeland Security Committee in Washington, D.C., said plans to expand the system to the Yuma, Ariz., and El Paso, Texas, areas will be pushed back three years to 2011 because of technological deficiencies.”
Reliable sources; isn’t that the way the New York Times avoids hammering down a real person, reliable sources have indicated the problem stems from the inability of workers to attach the invisible chain link fencing material to the invisible poles which were sunk into the soil with invisible concrete. One little boy embarrassed Homeland Security officials by claiming the King had no clothes and was immediately deported. My mistake for translating that last line; it was supposed to read, “We don’t need no stinking fence.”
This is simply another excuse for our government to avoid following the will of the people. Our elected officials continue to ignore the fact that roughly 70 percent of those polled want the border fence and yet they feel it’s more important to investigate whether or not certain baseball players did or didn’t use growth hormones to achieve better results. Read my lips, “Build the fence!”
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
“Court papers obtained by CelebTV.com show the former star of "The O.C." was charged Tuesday with driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs, driving while having a 0.08 percent or higher blood alcohol level, driving without a valid license and possession of marijuana 28.5 grams or less.”
Many years ago I arrested a young woman under similar circumstances, the details aren’t important other than she was intoxicated beyond belief and had to be taken to the county hospital for observation rather than risk placing her in jail. Since I’d arrested her, it fell on me to sit at the hospital as babysitter.
The end of my shift was approaching and another officer, George Shaw, came to relieve me. I mentioned how attractive the woman was and what a shame she’d put herself in such a situation. George glanced at her and said, “Not bad if you don’t mind women who drool out the corner of their mouths.”
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
When I was very young and my father was about to leave for his weekly bowling league I’d always tell him, “Bowl a hundred”, not knowing that a hundred in bowling wasn’t the same as a hundred on a school paper. The message came out as, “I love you Dad, do your best!” To this day I use the same expression to let him know I love him.
I noticed when I posted my last article the clicker showed 999 blogs had been filed since starting this interesting melting pot of loose screws and left over Halloween candy. I wanted to post something right away; just get over that hump so I could get to work on the next thousand articles.
There was an off color joke about the sex education teacher trying to break the ice with a new class of students. He asked for a show of hands; how many various positions there were between lovers. Hands went up across the room along with some unseemly laughter. The teacher would point to those holding up a hand and get answers from one to ninety nine. Rather than let the introduction go on too long the teacher asked the young man who’d responded, “One”, to elaborate.
Quite shy and intimidated at the prospect of having to explain such intimacies before his fellow classmates he reluctantly explained the “Missionary Position”, where the man’s on top. All at once the young man in the back who’d previously rejoiced and bragged at ninety nine could hold his exuberance no longer, jumping up and shouting, “One hundred!”
Well, today I hit 1000, maybe not such a big deal for you; but a mile marker post to me. Maybe I’ll find something better for 1001; if not have a great day anyway.
“Moses Rogers Jr. was also charged with disorderly conduct after police say he shouted the obscene statement into the window of the patrol car in which the dog was sitting, “causing the dog’s behavior to become overloaded, tormenting the dog,” an arrest affidavit states.”
I have no idea why the police asked Mr. Rogers for his identification; but unless he was operating a motor vehicle they’d better have had a really good legal reason. As far as shouting at the police dog; well who’s to say if the dog had been certified in the language being spoken?
Having been near police dogs many times I often found them to be highly sensitive to the presence of anyone other than their partner/handler. Perhaps police dogs suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder and should be put on Ritalin. I wouldn’t recommend getting close enough to press the issue and shouting insults at a police dog, even when separated by a police car’s window isn’t the wisest thing to do; but is it covered under any criminal law?
Did you hear about the guy who went into the bar claiming his dog could talk? The bartender goes along for a few moments as the dog’s asked some questions.
“Tell the bartender what goes on top of a house.”
“Roof”, the dog responds and the bartender rolls his eyes up in their sockets.
“Okay then, is sand paper smooth or rough?”
“Rough”, the bartender is about to turn away and get back to washing a few more glasses.
“Who was the best baseball player to hit the field?”
“Ruth”, the dog responds carefully and with that the dog and his owner are escorted to the sidewalk, the door closes with a slam behind them.
The dog thoughtfully looks to his owner and adds, “Maybe it was DiMaggio.”
Monday, February 25, 2008
Here’s a scene from near the front of the movie; hope this teaser tempts you to watch the rest. A mild warning; the movie contains some rather crude language at times; but nothing this retired cop hasn’t heard. It’s not gratuitously included and actually serves to enhance the dialogue; forgive me if you must for placing my stamp of approval on this film. I went back and added an additional link in the title bar which has more trailer material
“Federal officials made sure residents of the Village of East Fork were aware of the test as there is increasing concern a nearby mine drainage tunnel will burst. If that happens, officials said a billion gallons of toxic water would flood the community and countless others downstream.”
Understandably many of the town’s residents are having trouble sleeping, wondering if the flood will occur during the night or if they might not hear the siren’s warning. I have a solution; get out now and sleep peacefully in a safe location until the problem has been resolved.
When I was working as a police officer I often ran across domestic situations where one “significant other” explained how the other “significant other” intended to return later with the intent to inflict bodily harm or worse. I would offer the same advice, get out now and sleep peacefully until the problem has been resolved. If you know your boyfriend is high on drugs, has told you he will cut his initials in your chest and watch you die a slow agonizing death for having cheated on him by sleeping with his two best drinking buddies while he was passed out earlier in the evening; why wait for him to return and hope the police can come to your rescue?
It makes no sense to remain in a location when the odds are “highly probable” for serious bodily injury or loss of life are understood. This falls into the category of live to fight another day. Is your life, your family’s well being worth the risk of staying even one more hour? Once you’re aware of a problem and decide to ignore the odds, who takes the blame for the final outcome; “The sirens weren’t loud enough”, “The warnings came too late”, “I was too dumb to get out” are what will be written on your grave stone marker.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things 'in order,' she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
'There's one more thing,' she said excitedly.
'What's that?' came the pastor's reply.
'This is very important,' the young woman continued. 'I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.
'The pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
'That surprises you, doesn't it?' the young woman asked.
'Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request,' said the pastor.
The young woman explained. My grandmother once told me this story, and from there on out, I have always done so. I have also, always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement.
'In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming .. like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!' So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?'. Then I want you to tell them: 'Keep your fork .. the best is yet to come.' The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye.
He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She knew that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question 'What's with the fork?' And over and over he smiled.
During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her.
The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right.
So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.
Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.
Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them, even when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to 'Keep your fork.'
Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share. Being friends with someone is not an opportunity but a sweet responsibility.
If you would like send this to everyone you consider a FRIEND do so, even if it means sending back to the person who sent it to you.
And keep your FORK..
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
There was a chemistry professor in a large college that had some exchange students in the class. One day while the class was in the lab, the professor noticed one young man, an exchange student, who kept rubbing his back and stretching as if his back hurt. The professor asked the young man what was the matter. The student told him he had a bullet lodged in his back. He had been shot while fighting communists in his native country who were trying to overthrow his country's government and install a new communist regime.
In the midst of his story, he looked at the professor and asked a strange question. He asked: "Do you know how to catch wild pigs?" The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line. The young man said that it was no joke.
"You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground. The pigs find it and begin to come everyday to eat the free corn. When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming. When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again and you put up another side of the fence. They get used to that and start to eat again. You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side. The pigs, which are used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat that free corn again. You then slam the gate on them and catch the whole herd. Suddenly the wild pigs have lost their freedom. They run around and around inside the fence, but they are caught. Soon they go back to eating the free corn. They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity."
The young man then told the professor that is exactly what he sees happening in America. The government keeps pushing us toward Communism/Socialism and keeps spreading the free corn out in the form of programs such as supplemental income, tax credit for unearned income, tax cuts, tax exemptions, tobacco subsidies, dairy subsidies, payments not to plant crops (CRP), welfare, medicine, drugs, etc.. While we continually lose our freedoms, just a little at a time.
One should always remember two truths: There is no such thing as a free lunch and you can never hire someone to provide a service for you cheaper than you can do it yourself.
If you see that all of this wonderful government 'help' is a problem confronting the future of democracy in America, you might want to send this on to your friends. If you think the free ride is essential to your way of life, then you will probably delete this email. But God help you when the gate slams shut!
While scanning the card a few minutes ago I had her “help” the computer bring the picture across from the scanner by making her hands open and close along with magic incantations and funny noises. We waited while the platen warmed, all the while doing our gestures toward the monitor. It worked.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of little boy.
"Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."
"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "These puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money."
The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of changeand held it up to the farmer. "I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?"
"Sure," said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. "Here, Dolly!" he called. Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur.
The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight. As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared, this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up...
"I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the runt.
The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would."
With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said,
"You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands." With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked up the little pup. Holding it carefully handed it to the little boy.
"How much?" asked the little boy.
"No charge," answered the farmer, "There's no charge for love."
The world is full of people who need someone who understands. It's National Friendship Week.Show your friends how much you care. Send/share this to everyone you consider a FRIEND. If it comes back to you,then you'll know you have a circle of friends.
Another article is from Neil Boortz, and no I’m not making this up.
'COLD WAVE IN INDIA ATTRIBUTED TO GLOBAL WARMING'. I think the same folks who wrote the headline instructed the bomb digging team in the previous article.
The last one has to do with a lost laptop computer; but I hadn’t seen it anywhere except FoxNews so far. A woman is suing Best Buy for $54 million because she claims the consumer electronics retailer lost her laptop while it was in for repairs and tried to cover up its disappearance. Let me venture a guess, she’s related to the guy who sued the dry cleaning establishment when they lost his trousers? What ever you do, don’t hand this woman a hot cup of coffee; if she spills it and gets scalded the national debt will look like chump change.
A Short Course in Brain Surgery
(2006) Run Time: 5:36
A Short Course in Brain Surgery highlights the plight of an Ontario man with a cancerous brain tumor who crossed the border to the U.S. to get the medical care that is rationed in his home country.
Written, Directed, Produced, Edited and Narrated By: Stuart Browning (about)
About the Video: A Short Course in Brain Surgery is part of the Free Market Cure Video Series created by filmmaker Stuart Browning to inform Americans about the dangers of collectivized medicine and the benefits of free markets in health care.
The filmmaker has received no funding from the health insurance industry or the health care industry.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Sunday, while in one of my meetings, it happened again; this time the whole right side of the room became one large blind spot to where I could only see the other brethren in the room if I turned and looked directly towards them. This lasted about twenty minutes and there was the prismatic effect that went along with it. Later that evening I had a terrible headache which might have been related.
I mentioned it to Lucy and she booked an appointment with the ophthalmologist which is where we spent most of Monday. I found that my eyes are in good shape; no broken or damaged parts, other than normal aging. I’d described what I had seen to the nurse and the doctor and learned that what I’d experienced isn’t that uncommon; just a little un-nerving when it happens the first time.
I looked Ophthalmic Migraine up on the Internet when I got home and here is the section along with a graphic which went along with the article. While the image doesn’t do it justice; it does give an idea as to what it looked like. Mine looked it was a tunnel with little prisms circulating around the edge and anything outside the circle to the right was no longer visible.
Migraine headaches may be preceded by a visual "aura", lasting for 20 to 30 minutes, and then proceeding to the headache. Some people, however, experience the aura but do not have a headache. This visual aura can be very dramatic.
Classically, a small blind spot appears in the central vision with a shimmering, zig-zag light inside of it. This enlarges, and moves to one side or the other of the vision, over a 20 to 30 minute period. When it is large, this crescent shaped blind spot containing this brightly flashing light can be difficult to ignore, and some people fear that they are having a stroke. In reality, it is generally a harmless phenomenon, except in people who subsequently get the headache of migraine. Since migraine originates in the brain, the visual effect typically involves the same side of vision in each eye, although it may seem more prominent in one eye or the other.
Some people get different variations of this phenomenon, with the central vision being involved, or with the visual effect similar to "heat rising off of a car". Some people describe a "kaleidoscope" effect, with pieces of the vision being missing. All of these variations are consistent with ophthalmic migraine.
Friday, February 08, 2008
I called the 911 operator and explained who I was and asked if they could figure out the correct address with the phone number that showed up on my caller ID. I was told that it would be a violation of policy, something about liabilities and getting sued. The 911 operator said a police unit could be dispatched to my house; but as I’d already explained, I wasn’t the one who needed help; I was trying to get help for the woman who’d called my number.
A little while later a police officer knocked on my door and I explained the same thing, gave him an index card which had all the information I’d given to the 911 operator and asked him to investigate further. I watched the officer leave and have no idea if anything was done.
I’m a bit frustrated with a system which can identify a caller’s telephone number so easily; but lacks the intestinal fortitude (how’s that for avoiding a more common phrase?) to follow that lead, figure out the location and knock on a door where an old woman may be in real need of assistance. Maybe there’s a policy in place to prevent officers from breaking down doors based on third party information and setting the Department up for a huge lawsuit; however, what harm could there be to knock and ask?
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
The first thought that came to mind was how grateful I was not to have been fired during that short time I was assigned there. Bear in mind I was a rookie with limited knowledge of police policy; that having been said I think you’d agree with my first impressions. “The story you are about to see is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent”, isn’t that how the television show Dragnet would begin each episode?
It was my second month wearing a blue uniform; sitting in a patrol car hadn’t become comfortable as yet. (My name’s Friday… My partner and I work evening shift out of Park Place in the City) I was in the passenger seat as we traveled on the 610 Loop when my senior partner reached down and flipped on all the emergency equipment. I thought I’d missed hearing an important call over the radio, not being sure I automatically assumed it was my fault. The police car took an abrupt turn and left the pavement exiting the freeway across the grassy divide and onto the service road at speeds which only an escaped mental patient would attempt, made it to the first intersection where we busted through the red light and pulled into a small restaurant a little further down the road. Another patrol car with its red lights and siren blaring screeched to a halt half a minute later.
I figured a robbery or some other major police issue was in progress; I was wrong. These two particular seasoned veteran officers had a standing bet each evening to see who would arrive at their favorite eating establishment first. Later that evening while comparing notes with another rookie I was told to be cautious when assigned to ride with either of them as they enjoyed “pranking” with rookies; oh, really!
My fellow rookie gave me a heads up; never let either of these two senior officers handle your pistol. It sounded a bit odd; but according to “myth” a senior officer was admiring how nice a rookie’s brand new Smith & Wesson pistol looked and asked if he could have a closer look. The senior officer leaned out the window of the patrol car while driving through an intersection, fired off several shots in the air and handed it back, “Shoots nice too!”
Having driven to the restaurant via the stock car rally with a crazy partner with no regard for the public’s safety, much less Department rules and regulations, I figured if I made it through my month at Park Place without getting fired or worse, I’d consider myself lucky. I had sense enough to keep my mouth shut and pray rather than speak of my experience openly; being a rookie required putting up with local customs, all the same I think I’ll skip the luncheon for “any one who ever worked Park Place”.
Monday, February 04, 2008
While reading the morning headlines on FoxNews I ran across a short reminder that every now and then… but, don’t let me ruin it for you…
JERUSALEM — Dr. Baruch Mandeltzwieg knelt down and ripped open the jacket of a critically wounded man from Monday's homicide bombing in Dimona to begin emergency treatment. But instead of finding gushing blood, he was struck by another sight — an explosive belt.
The wounded man turned out to be a would-be suicide bomber who was knocked out by the force of the initial blast before he was able to detonate his own explosive belt.
Mandeltzwieg, who had rushed to the scene along with nurses from a nearby medical clinic, ran away as the second bomber began waving his arms. An Israeli policeman then shot the bomber at point blank range and killed him, police spokesman Micky Rosenfeld said.
I suppose I could figure a way to alter the story, “Your belt’s too tight”, without destroying a classic too badly. A terrorist turns up at the morgue and one doctor asks the other, “Was he killed when the bomb detonated?” The other doctor says, “No, his explosive belt was too tight, his arms began flailing so the cop shot him.” While it doesn’t have the same ring to it, there is something profoundly funny about the ending.
This year had a couple of good presentations; E-trade ( the second commercial ) with the baby sitting at the keyboard talking about how easy it was to buy and sell stocks, FedEx had the pigeons, Budweiser did a remake of the Rocky Theme; but the one that grabbed my vote came in the third quarter of the game. Coke did a Thanksgiving Day Parade with the New York skyline and Central Park. The Coke Balloon sequence got two thumbs up from me. Here’s a link to the rest of this years capitalist ventures.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Here’s the question which begs to be asked, are we better off sending him back to prison? The answer isn’t as simple as it may appear. Yes, he owes society the remainder of his prison sentence. If we go about letting escaped prisoners remain free the whole system would turn into chaos.
Then again the purpose of prison is to keep folks who are a danger to society out of trouble and rehabilitate them; yea, that works really well. What’re the statistics on convicted criminals who never return to a life of crime?
In this particular case it would appear that Jack Hazen no longer is a threat to society since he no longer exists. Charles Free, the man who replaced him seems to have done a fair job of becoming a model citizen who helps his neighbors. What purpose would be served in placing Charles Free in a prison system where he would no longer be productive and instead have him associate with criminals who for the most part have no intention of being rehabilitated?
If you think about it, Charles Free saved the taxpayers a considerable sum of money, the original cost to house him in prison used to be calculated at about $ 30 K per prisoner. I didn’t see how many years he was supposed to stay behind bars; but let’s say he would have been paroled in 7 years for good behavior. That saved the state of Florida a little over $ 200 K. Then there’s the issue of having an over loaded parole staff to pay after he legally became a member of society.
Charles Free made sure to cross all his “T’s” and dot all the “I’s”, remain as quiet as a mouse for thirty years in order not to draw attention to himself or his past. He was his own prison guard, his own parole officer and the only thing it cost the society is our pride in a system which doesn’t seem to produce rehabilitated citizens capable of joining society. I say go through the formalities to satisfy “justice”. Have him sign a form at the court house in Las Vegas; no reason to fly him across the country which would only add to the cost, then quietly open the back door of the jail and let him go home to his family where he has proven that he will not be a threat to society.