HPD Guidelines for Unauthorized Beards

I found a set of photographs taken after I’d come back from two weeks in Colorado at the end of a vacation from the Houston Police Department. I was to report back for duty that night and procrastinated shaving off the beard I’d managed to produce in that short time. I trimmed it and took these photographs. You might say these are the HPD guidelines for unauthorized beards which might one day become authorized based on how great my particular beard looked. I did shave off the beard and I will never know how much hot water I’d have been in had I shown up for work that way; however…

I was going to link with an article that I’d posted back February 19, 2005; but, try as I might, I couldn’t locate it anywhere in the archives. I found the date it was posted by going through my “posted” files; but the article wasn’t to be found when I went to get the URL link. That got me to wondering how accurate the archive process is and how much I could depend on it when looking for old posts. Rather than go on and on I’ve decided to just add it on here.

Roll Call Inspection

Night shift for the police department was more relaxed than any other shift. That included mandatory inspections, a formality that was nearly non-existent on nights. I can remember officers borrowing hats or nightsticks from officers getting off of evening shift out in the hall just so they’d have the proper equipment for a few minutes. At least it was that way until Sgt. Kennedy transferred in.

Sgt. Kennedy came to us from the other side of the city where it was even more relaxed. His hair was much longer than Department guidelines would allow, even for night shift. It might not have been an issue except that we’d also gotten a new shift commander, Lt. Crawford, who was in every way a product of the “spit and polish” generation.

I was sitting in my regular seat, the center of the back row, while Sgt. Kennedy was reading the nightly bulletins from the podium. Lt. Crawford sauntered into the room and placed himself directly behind Sgt. Kennedy. After all the bulletins had been read and signed Lt. Crawford announced that he’d noticed how SOME officers had strayed from Departmental guidelines in grooming habits and there would be a formal inspection in two days. Lt. Crawford made his announcement, all the while looking at the back of Sgt. Kennedy’s head; not specifically mentioning anyone by name and yet making his point quite clear. It made for a rather awkward moment that would have to be addressed.

My personal grooming habits had not changed much from the days when I was in the academy. I considered my overall appearance satisfactory; possibly exemplary. While preparing the night of the intended inspection I took a good look in the mirror after putting on my uniform. I thought a little mustache wax might add to the general effect. I looked around but could not find any. I rummaged through a drawer and could only find some Halloween make up that had been saved in a zip lock baggie.

There was a container of black mustache “enhancement” base that I concluded would have to suffice. I stroked it liberally into my mustache. I noticed immediately that the black contrasted with my own natural brown pigment; however, it would not wash out and tended to smear rather than come off. Time was running short and rather than panic I decided to have some fun. I was two weeks from retirement, a little mischief might be just the ticket. I dipped the brush into the enhancement base and formed an exquisite “Jerry Colona” style handlebar mustache; painting areas of my face that had never had hair with the thick medium.

“Dad, you’re not going to work with that, are you?”, my son asked as he got a good look.

I made it a point to enter the station via the back door, not wishing any supervisors to see me, at least not until inspection time. If I was going to have some fun, let it run its full course. I motioned for the desk officer to hold his tongue as he gasped.

I found my regular seat as my fellow officers entered the roll call room. I made sure that they would play along. The K-9 unit officer next to me was busy removing dog hair from his trousers until he happened to get a look at my “creation”.

“Hey man, I got nothing to worry about now!”, he blurted out and left the matted dog hair on the other half of his trousers. At ten o’clock Sgt. Kennedy walked in, sporting his new haircut, well within policy. He never looked at anyone while going over the bulletins. He then began assigning each officer to his respective beat, whereupon he had to look at each officer for acknowledgement. “Stern, Five Frank Twenty Six.”, he glanced in my direction reflexively since I normally sat in the same place.

“Oh, shi…..”, was all he could say. He quickly looked down at his clip board; praying that something there would help him. Lt. Crawford had been sitting in the very last chair on the back row, waiting to have formal inspection. Several officers had blocked his line of sight from me; at least until that moment. Lt. Crawford, sensing something amiss, leaned forward and turned in my direction. I was all smiles, silly mustache and all. The entire roll call room exploded in laughter.

“I guess that about takes care of the inspection.”, Lt. Crawford breathed out in a sigh. “Stern, I’d like to see you in my office after roll call.” Sgt. Kennedy swallowed hard as the rumble of laughs settled out. I swallowed to clear my own worries about what I had done, still mildly confident that my two weeks until retirement would count for something.

“Promise me you won’t do this again?”, there was a pleading in Lt. Crawford’s demeanor. He hoped the prank was a one time ordeal.

“You have my word on it, Sir.” It may have been the best thing that could have happened around our station. Lt. Crawford had made his point about following policy without having to be too hard nosed, Sgt. Kennedy was out of the spotlight and able to retain a semblance of dignity and the troops had a good laugh. My only regret; I wish someone had taken a picture.

Legitimate State Interest

I read the hand writing on the wall, a glimpse of our future, in an AP article posted on CNN, “School wants lawsuit over gay discussions dismissed” (linked via title bar).

“Officials from a suburban Massachusetts school district asked a federal judge Wednesday to dismiss a lawsuit filed by two couples who claim their parental rights were violated when homosexuality was discussed in their children's classrooms.”

{. . .}

“John Davis, an attorney for Lexington school officials, argued in court Wednesday that teaching diversity is a "legitimate state interest." He said that it would be "an administrative nightmare" for schools in Massachusetts to try to predict when the topic of gay marriage will come up and to inform parents ahead of time.”

Teaching diversity is a “legitimate state interest”; diversity is everything and nothing because it’s a lie, the idea is to teach something other than what used to be taught. Diversity is teaching children about the religion of evolution under their assertion that evolution is a provable science; but doesn’t include teaching alternative religious theories which might compete with the chosen religion of the state.. Diversity is teaching that we should respect religions of the world such as Islamism or atheism; but refuses to permit any hint of Judaism or Christianity in our schools.

It has become necessary to remove the Judeo/Christian God in order to advance the State as His replacement. Diversity is the mechanism by which deviant lifestyles such as homosexuality or same sex marriage can be shown as something other than deviant while removing moral judgment from the teaching process because it might advance Christian foundations which at one time were a part of the American philosophy, that part of our American background which might be in conflict with the godless agenda.

Teaching diversity is how the state schools implement their socialist agenda, an agenda which eventually destroys the family unit, the foundations of a free society, religion and replaces God with “the State”. Democracy is replaced with pure socialism and communism. I suppose I should be grateful that John Davis was so open about the purpose of our state run public educational system. John, keep talking, I want to hear all about it.

Edited 2/09/07 3:45pm

Stop the ACLU is celebrating a 2nd year anniversary by holding an open trackback weekend. You might stop by and leave a comment to let them know their efforts are valued.
http://stoptheaclu.com/archives/2007/02/09/2-year-blogiversary-open-trackback/

Edited 2/10/07 7:25am

loboinok of Stop the ACLU cross posted on Ogre’s Politics & Views. The article was about folks distributing Bibles on a public sidewalk who were arrested after a school principle called local police.

http://ogresview.mu.nu/archives/214953.php

Don’t you dare honk at us, we’re talking!

I happened to get behind a car with three or four young people during rush hour traffic this past Wednesday. We were on a major artery of traffic, Stuebner-Airline where it crosses FM 1960. The light changed and I could see the young woman in the driver seat was too busy talking to a young man in the passenger seat, too busy to notice that traffic was moving ahead while her vehicle sat idle. I tapped lightly on the horn to catch her attention and the young man in the passenger seat put is arm out the window and flipped me off as the young woman looked in the mirror, as if to say, “Don’t you dare honk at us, we’re talking!”

A couple of intersections down the road I had the misfortune of getting into the left turn directly behind the same vehicle while waiting for the light to change. These young people could be seen chattering away and not paying attention to traffic as the light changed indicating it was safe to turn left. I waited a “three count” before tapping my horn to get their attention; time was running out for a chance to proceed. The young man put his arm out the window and held it with his middle finger extended. “How dare you honk at us, again, while we’re talking; we’ll show you a thing or two!”


Their vehicle made the left turn; but instead of moving along in a normal fashion, they decided to play the blockade game. They moved down the road never going faster than fifteen mile an hour, all the while flipping me off and taunting me to attempt to pass them; knowing that it would not be possible in rush hour traffic. I was happy to see them turn off at the first opportunity; even so, I have to wonder what these young people have been taught.

I must be maturing, at least a little. I was on my way to serve at the temple and refused to sink to their level. In my younger days, like this past Tuesday, there might have been a much different outcome than my waving and smiling at their inappropriate behavior. This is not to say that should they pull that kind of stunt during the rest of the week I might not revert to a more primitive mindset; after all, I’m a work in progress with plenty of room for improvement. A night or two in jail might be worth teaching those little jerks some manners.

(Just as a note: The new Blogger version is acting more than a little strange this evening. The tool bar has no means of changing the style or size of text.)

Apollo 13 Spoof on YouTube

This may be the best spoof of a movie ever made. A big tip of the hat to my daughter Bonnie for sending this to my email. Rated PG-13 ( Two Swear Words )

Arf!

I saw this article on the Houston Chronicle website this morning, “HPD dog bites man attempting burglary at impound lot” (linked via title bar). In the briefest of summations:

“They found the man hiding in one of the cars, but he refused to exit the vehicle. A canine unit was called in to get the suspect out of the car.”

“The man suffered a dog bite to the arm. He was arrested for trespassing and could face burglary charges.”

I may have shared a similar police incident some time back; one that fits the same mold, it bears repeating, or should that be dogs repeating? I’d been dispatched as a one man unit to an alarm going off on a combination gas station grocery store. One of the windows of an all glass store front had been broken leaving a large enough hole for somebody to enter. I caught a glimpse of movement, a head wearing a ball cap that dropped down as I arrived so I had a K-9 unit check by.

We called inside to advise the suspect that we were about to let the dog go and got no response. The dog picked up on the suspect’s location in a matter of moments and latched onto his shoulder and dragged him out through the hole in the window. We handcuffed the suspect, searched him down, looked at the bruised and torn shoulder area and took him off to jail. Now, if we as police officers had bruised or bitten the suspect’s shoulder we’d have been up in front of the grand jury for violating his rights; but since the K-9 dog had performed his duties within departmental guidelines every thing was hunky dory.

Somewhere there’s a bit of Dirty Harry mentality in all cops, knowing that some small measure of justice had been dispensed prior to the courts slap on the wrist. I was always grateful when a K-9 unit was able to check out the dark corners of a building prior to my having to go in after the bad guys. Give that dog a bone.

Can you say, Passport?

I took notice of an article by Leslie Miller posted on the AOL news site, “States Challenge National Driver's License” (linked via title bar). There was a veiled threat, the big dogs in Washington holding everyone in check, “States will have to comply by May 2008. If they do not, driver's licenses that fall short of Real ID's standards cannot be used to board an airplane or enter a federal building or open some bank accounts.”

I can’t buy into that particular empty threat. There already exists an authorized national identification system; it’s called a Passport. In January it became mandatory to hold a passport upon entering this country, something which should have been done years ago. I see nothing sinister about requiring a passport to enter the United States of America and since the use of airports and flying is of major concern to the safety and security of our citizenry it would seem only a natural extension of thought to include passports as a means of identifying passengers on domestic flights as well.

They better be more specific about opening “some bank accounts”. Maybe they think that an IRA account funnels money to the Irish Republican Army; you know how rotten Republicans are. That part about entering a federal building might have some teeth in it; oh golly gee wiz and Auntie Em I want to go home; give me a break, so I won’t open an office in a federal office building.

The flip side of such an asinine requirement would be how easily it is to forge a passport, to manufacture them in mass quantities; at least that’s what I got from watching the Bourne Identity and the Bourne Supremacy movies. That guy had a passport for every day of the week and they all looked real enough to get him where ever he wanted to go.

We’re back to square one then, liars are going to lie, thieves are going to steal and we keep sending them to Washington where they make our lives more difficult ; what is wrong with us?

Freedom of Speech and The Harm Principle

Originally I started this out as a “brief” explanation to comments I received via email in which the following was stated, “My understanding of freedom of speech is that anyone can speak, print their ideas no matter how offensive and the good news is you can select who to read or listen to (buy from).” I had planned to send my “short” response back as a direct reply, “I see where, “no matter how offensive” was included as part of freedom of speech; you are not alone in that false presumption, so much for brevity of thought.

The topic “Freedom of Speech” is a double edged sword that cuts deeply into the foundations of our society’s and our so called “commonly held” beliefs. It’s a hot topic at every level of our society to include cases which now are in front of the courts. I read recently where one particular “freedom of speech” issue has some long lasting implications.

From CNN’s website Friday February 2, 2007:
http://www.foxnews.com/wires/2007Feb02/0,4670,ProfanityArrest,00.html

“An officer who arrested a man for cursing in a public meeting violated the man's right to free speech, a federal appeals court ruled Friday.

The 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals reversed a lower court's decision that Montrose Township police officer Stephen Robinson had probable cause to arrest Thomas Leonard in 2002 when Leonard cursed while addressing the township board.

"It cannot be seriously contended that any reasonable peace officer, or citizen, for that matter, would believe that mild profanity while peacefully advocating a political position could constitute a criminal act," the three-judge panel wrote in Friday's decision.””

This particular case hinges on the presumption, by an extremely liberal court, that profanity has become common in our society, that it can no longer be considered objectionable and has become acceptable. The 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals could be ranked 2nd only to the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals in rendering decisions that fly in the face of two hundred years of case law.

Historically it isn’t hard to understand how we have fallen to such a level as to consider profanity or pornography as being anything other than obscene. You might look up the changes that have occurred beginning with John Stuart Mill's “Harm Principle” (1978) which outlined morality by redefining social norms.

http://www.utexas.edu/courses/hilde/Philhandouts/Mill-Harm_Principle(Myers).html

“...the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilis(z)ed community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinion of others, to do so would be wise, or even right...The only part of the conduct of anyone, for which he is amenable to society, is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.”

Our most basic “rights”; the right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness as found in the Declaration of Independence are given through powers which belong to God, not government. Our nation was the first to make such a declaration of rights and tie them directly to God while forming a new nation. This followed the Magna Charta and other attempted reformations to existing governments; the idea was not new; however, it was an experiment in self government and novel to the world. The Constitution and Bill of Rights were established to define those God given rights by limiting our government’s ability to infringe upon those rights; not as some claim, to explain those rights which our government has seen fit to permit the individual citizen.

The Harm Principle turned upside down how the law interpreted injury through expression, such as so called freedom of speech, to include any and all expressions regardless of content. Our Supreme Court has fallen into this philosophy and this has become the standard by which solipsism or the destruction of common held interpretation of long standing principles became possible. It creates a society of one in which nothing is dependent on society, one in which reality is decided daily and subject to revision based solely on that individual’s desires or needs; in a nut shell, the end of the rule of law.

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2005/05/author-of-liberty.html

I have also written about how absurd it is to presume that God would provide our founding fathers with divine inspiration to pen our most precious documents; The Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights in order to establish a nation in which pure doctrine could be established and then expect those documents to presuppose that God has included anything in those documents which would or could be in direct conflict with his expressed commandments. (How’s that for a run on sentence?) Men have found ways to rationalize corruption; you might be familiar with the scriptural reference from Isaiah, “Woe unto them that call evil good and good evil; that put darkness for light and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/right-to-peacefully-assemble.html

The current level of moral decay has gotten us to a point where the law of the land is dependent on whatever the highest court says it is, that being the Supreme Court. I have in the past referred to an article in the Meridian Magazine and an interview with Robert Bork.

http://www.meridianmagazine.com/ideas/031119bork.html

Unfortunately the elitist status which has been granted those 9 unelected overseers has created a schism which ought not to exist, that they can determine morality rather than review constitutional law means that they now believe themselves to be above the populous for whom they serve, gods if you will. They have created constitutional rights which do not and never were in the constitution such as the right to privacy, the right to abortion and other current popular notions not found in the document, all in the name of political expediency. Laws which protected morality have come under a constant barrage from the godless; laws which covered profanity, pornography and obscenity have been struck down in the name of “freedom of speech”.

Well, freedom of speech never included the right to offend your neighbor’s ear in public, no different than slapping someone in the face or spitting on them. Such actions have historically been considered a form of assault; that is until recent times. No one will argue that it’s against the law to yell “Fire” in a crowded theater; however, some feel that it is perfectly within the scope of individual freedoms to offend, strike that, to express any manner of profanity as if such expression was acceptable no different than “please” or “thank you”.

My reference to Isaiah stands and such profanities are and should continue to be against the law in public. Granted, most popular movies and television shows would have to be thrown in the trash; but they are only the tip of the ice berg when it comes to how depraved our society has become.

The article to which I voiced my complaint regarding pedophilia being objectionable has to do with a known pervert who continues to prey on the innocents in our society, regardless of the Canadian law which claims that sex with a 14 year old does not constitute any violation of law. His having published a book through a company in direct affiliation with Amazon.com and then having Amazon.com act as his agent to distribute such depravity under the recently acquired rulings that support such deviant behavior as expressions covered by free speech only underscores what I have stated.

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2007/02/amazoncom-pedophilia-is-objectionable.html

The self imposed censorship that Amazon.com should use, that which in former days would have been accepted as reasonable by those who wish to salvage some semblance of morality, has been set aside in order to obtain either notoriety among those with little or no moral foundation or to exact a few more dollars to an already profitable venture. The smut dealers, the hole in the wall outlets which have always existed sell XXX material to the dregs of society, should not and do not represent society as a whole. The fact that a mainstream distribution outlet such as Amazon.com has elected to sink to such levels of depravity, all in the name of freedom of speech or freedom of choice; which I have shown to be nothing but self centered interest in direct opposition to anything which God intended when such freedoms were provided to men. Amazon.com’s policy to provide obscene material on demand stands as a declaration that they have no morals or intent to uphold the standards of the community.

Amazon.com - Pedophilia is Objectionable

I sent the following letter off to voice my complaint; it explains what I wanted to say.

February 3, 2007

Amazon.com
Public Relations Department

Subject: Pedophilia is Objectionable

Dear Sirs;

I came across an article by Glib Fortuna while reading one of my regular blogs, Stop the ACLU, entitled, “Amazon defiantly, unexplainably continues to line pockets of a child molester” (link provided below). In the article was a response to a complaint regarding Amazon.com’s policy to include the work of a pedophile as a regular stock item.

“Thank you for writing to Amazon.com. As a retailer, our goal is to provide customers with the broadest selection possible so they can find, discover, and buy any item they might be seeking. That selection includes some items which many people may find objectionable. Therefore, the items offered on our web site represent a wide spectrum of opinions on a variety of topics Amazon.com believes it is censorship not to display certain articles because we believe their message is objectionable.” ( emphasis was added by Glib Fortuna in his article )

http://stoptheaclu.com/archives/2007/02/03/amazon-defiantly-unexplainably-continues-to-line-pockets-of-a-child-molester/#comment-36382

I commented that this would fall under self censorship or the right not to do business with scum. It isn’t any different than the publishing house that backed away from OJ’s book, even if that took an angry public to force them into making that happen. The public’s outcry does have significant power. I enjoy the ability to purchase books and other forms of entertainment through the convenience of your site; fact is I made a purchase this past week and am awaiting its arrival.

I’ve never been a multi million dollar company with the ability to do what ever I pleased without regard for the loss of one or two customers, treating even the smallest customer who chooses to do business with me as if he/she were my only customer. I would think that companies which have the benefit of such power as Amazon.com could be more selective in their choice of marketing standards, call it censorship if you will; but you also have an obligation to maintain a minimum level of moral decency to be considered reputable.

Thank you,


T. F. Stern

Sorry for all the wrong reasons

I read a story on the CNN website, “Turner Broadcasting ready to pay for Boston Sign scare” (linked via title bar). The city of Boston was nearly shut down this past Wednesday after it was reported that little boxes which began showing up all over the city might be some kind of terrorist related plot.

“Turner Broadcasting apologized for the incident. The company took out full-page ads in local newspapers apologizing to residents, according to the Boston Globe and the Boston Herald.”

"We never intended this outcome and certainly did not set out to perpetrate a hoax," the ad said. "What we did is inadvertently cause a great American city to deal with the unintended impact of this marketing campaign. For this, we are deeply sorry."

The advertising scheme which was responsible for the small boxes popping up everywhere had the image of an animated cartoon figure “flipping the bird” at those passing by in order to generate interest for some new adult programming.

When I was growing up I would say I was sorry anytime I got caught doing something I shouldn’t have done. I then got to listen to a familiar lecture, “Are you sorry you got caught or are you sorry you broke the rules?” When I said I was sorry it was because I got caught and continued to misbehave until getting caught again. Eventually I took to heart the lesson being taught and figured out that I needed to apply my efforts toward obeying the rules.

Does anyone else think it’s wrong to have an adult show, with who knows what other offensive material, that Turner Broadcasting Network should resort to “flipping” every one off who happens upon it, something they must think is rather funny? Maybe they could get Vice President Dick Chaney to do spot commercials, “Go F--- Yourself!”

No, it wasn’t ever intended to cause a public to panic. Those living in Boston are sheep that bleat at the least threatening sound; is it any wonder that they would panic when faced with such a stunt. Why would Turner Broadcasting Network be so quick to fork over money for reimbursement to emergency crews dispatched in efforts to “save the public” from a terrorist threat which never existed or a hoax which never was a hoax. It was a publicity stunt that went badly, not because anyone was offended for having been “flipped off”, but because it scared the sheep.

I wrote about “Symptoms of Decay” (link below) in our society this past week. This is just another example and validates what I had to say in that article. “Ted, your apology is not acceptable, try again when you have had a chance to think it over. Now go to your room”; that’s what my mother would have said.

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/symptoms-of-decay.html

This just in:

I shut down too soon, having found yet another article on CNN ( linked below):

“An officer who arrested a man for cursing in a public meeting violated the man's right to free speech, a federal appeals court ruled Friday.”

“The 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals reversed a lower court's decision that Montrose Township police officer Stephen Robinson had probable cause to arrest Thomas Leonard in 2002 when Leonard cursed while addressing the township board.”

http://www.cnn.com/2007/LAW/02/02/Profanity.arrest.ap/index.html

Life and Lessons

Last night we had JJ and Jocelyne over so the kids could have a date all by themselves, a terrible burden for grandparents to have to bear. They ended up spending the night and started off the morning with us as well. Lucy’s in the kitchen fixing breakfast, for you not familiar with my choice of words, there’s nothing broken; breakfast is being prepared, eggs, grits, bacon and toast.

Jocelyne was jibber jabbering away with the language that only very small children can fully appreciate, pointing to Bubba sitting on the far counter top. I picked Jocelyne up and carefully let her reach over to touch the top of Bubba’s head, to feel the tips of her ears and watch for any danger signs. Bubba tolerated it a couple of times and then backed away.

I eased Jocelyne down so she could stand on her own, below cabinet level and yet within the danger zone, and kept a closer eye on Bubba as Jocelyne was jibber jabbering away, something about how cute, soft and wonderful Bubba was, that Bubba was her favorite furry friend forever and a day; a rough approximation based on the gleam in her eyes. Bubba sat with patience as Jocelyne moved the foot stool out of her way to be closer to her new best friend, her hands reaching higher and yet below the level where she might reach Bubba.

It was over in a flash; Bubba shot a few quick jabs downward striking Jocelyne on the top of her outstretched hand and said something so ugly it wasn’t fit for printing. Jocelyne stood in disbelief for several seconds, reviewing in her mind what had been explained to her, “I don’t like little children with fingers covered with sticky slime. I don’t want to be your friend unless you have a can of tuna already opened and carefully sectioned in my favorite dish. I’d like to tear the skin off those chubby little hands and watch you die a slow death from blood poisoning and I never was your friend to begin with.”; or something like that.

Jocelyne broke down in tears and loud cries as would be expected when a heart is torn asunder. Lucy wrapped her in her arms and tried to soften the lesson in reality that had to be learned; Bubba hasn’t room in her heart for anyone, much less a little girl who might be a threat.

I’m reminded of a warning in Matthew, “But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” Bubba better be more careful who she gets riled at.

I’m pretty sure the lesson is for us, not some persnickety feline; the tender feelings of a child are vulnerable and can only withstand a little injury before becoming hardened and insensitive. Are we not all children of our Father in Heaven, seeking tenderness and love? Let’s work on being more kind and not have to worry about being fitted for a millstone.

A Little Voice In My Head

I was flipping channels looking for a movie, any movie that was about to start and stopped on one I was unfamiliar with. It had some familiar names in the cast, Michael Caine, Ewan McGregor and Brenda Blethyn. Most of you are familiar with the first two; Brenda Blethyn was in an exceptional film, Saving Grace, which I heartily recommend. Tonight’s film was called, Little Voice, never heard of it; but decided to take a chance.

The story revolves around an extremely shy woman, played by Jane Horrocks. The young woman lives above a record store operated by her obnoxious mother, Brenda Blethyn. Most of the film would be what I’d classify as forgettable and I stuck around only because there was some good music played on old vinyl platters by the young woman while hiding from life up in her room. She would console herself while looking at a picture of her father, who died leaving her to put up with a cruel world; only her records to get her through each day.

The power for the apartment goes out while Michael Caine’s character is in amorous embrace with the mother down stairs, while the young woman was playing her records upstairs. He gets to hear the young woman’s ability to mimic Judy Garland’s voice flawlessly with the power out. On top of that she also does Marilyn Monroe and Shirley Bassey. He has her perform a full show at a local talent spot where she knocks them dead with an electrifying performance, all the time in her mind she’s singing to dear departed dad’s ghost sitting in a chair out front.

When the movie was over, during the rolling of credits I learned that all the songs had been performed by Jane Horrocks, the shy little woman with a squeaky apologetic voice. I had assumed that everything was done with voice over technology, kind of a lip sync from old recordings; wow, that was an eye opener. The movie was mostly depressing; imposing people being rude and ugly to everyone; all except Ewen McGregor and Jane Horrocks.

I’d never heard of Jane Horrocks so I looked her up on Google; found the movie listed on Amazon.com and a couple of recordings she’d made. The first was the movie soundtrack which I’m glad I didn’t buy. The reviews explained that while the movie may have had Jane Horrocks voice doing the old songs, the soundtrack didn’t; what a waste. I then found a CD, “The Further Adventures of Little Voice Jane Horrocks”, which was more to my liking. It has her talents listed with each song, even one where she’s matched up with a resurrected Dean Martin. I’m looking forward to getting that one in the mail; as for the movie, thumbs down and make sure to flush.

Evolution or Eternal Progression

A fellow who goes by the moniker, “Probiligo”, stops by once and a while and leaves a comment. He lives in New Zealand and has his own blog where I also visit now and again. This past week he wrote an article which he called, “On Consciousness 2” (linked via title bar). It was an interesting voyage into the workings of the human brain worth the read. He provided an insight as to how quite a few folks believe or think about the state of man.

"The brain is a product of evolution, and just as animal brains have their limitations, we have ours."

Probligo highlighted this sentence and stated that he agreed with it so I will start from there. I so dislike the word evolution that I automatically start to jerk my knee whenever it passes my senses. That having been said, I agree that we have our limitations, as do all creatures.

My understanding of man’s existence is tempered considerably by religious doctrine, some of which may be unique to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I believe that man is made in God’s image and that as such we are given to achieve in like manner; blasphemy in some circles of Christianity. I do not buy into the idea that prehistoric similar creatures that walked upright are the same as man; no more so than I believe that monkeys or apes are men. They were separate and distinct creatures, man being the result of God’s intention to reserve such status for His children. This statement being at variance with the secularists might irritate; heck, I know it irritates the so called scientific community. They have as much right to their opinion as do I. The nature of man has to be considered from the beginning, and by that I do not refer to the first breath taken in mortality.

Each man/woman has existed from the beginning as spirit entities with intelligence and an awareness of being. The scriptures explain that there was a great council which separated those spirits willing to follow a plan proposed by that being we identify as God, the Father of all, while a third of the host of heaven rebelled and followed Satan. These rebellious spirits were thrown out and forever consigned to the existence to which they had “progressed”; being denied the opportunity to obtain a mortal body or to progress any further.

Those who accepted God’s proposed plan accepted Jesus as the Savior and agreed to follow all the rules and commandments as set down in that heavenly council. Upon reaching mortality a veil of forgetfulness separates man from having a clear memory of his first estate providing a platform in which to test his/her resolve to complete those promises which were made, a probationary state if you will. We are to be tested all through our mortality to see how we perform under stress and various challenges in order to separate further those who will follow God’s plan from those who claimed they would but lacked the necessary character.

I would proceed further with my explanation of the Great Plan of Salvation; however, for what I wish to explain today this much will suffice. Man, upon passing mortality and obtaining a perfected body, one that is reunited with his eternal spirit, is to forever progress along that same opportunity of experience as did God.

I might be splitting hairs when I say that I dislike the word evolution; perhaps it is because evolution and the far ranging associated meanings have been perverted into a false science by those intent on denying God’s grand creations, preferring instead to assign such magnificence to calculated random chance. We wandered out of a pool of slime and one day sat in our easy chair sending digital images from our cell phones; might as well call that a “religion of tall tales” when compared to my belief in a Father preparing a means whereby all of His children might fulfill the measure of their existence to the highest level possible.

God, the image of our existence, has attained powers, understanding and knowledge that we are capable of, we just have to wait until such time as we are ready for such knowledge, understanding and power. We don’t hand over the car keys to a five year old, why should we expect the power, intelligence and understanding of God in our infancy. I have no idea how other men understand the eternities, we being more comfortable with finite logic. I can only proceed on my limited understanding that if I have a quantity of intelligence, understanding and ability today, that tomorrow I have the ability to add to that, even if it is but a little, it will be more than I had the day before. Progressively, I will have “X”, then “X+1”, then +1 more and so on through all eternity. I can no more catch up with God in His ability than I can ever be as old as the brother born before me; but I can increase without limitations as long as I desire to increase.

Last on my list would be the idea Probligo brought up on color and the recognition that there is no way for one person to understand how another perceives or accepts the hue, shape and reflection as you perceive it. It is speculation on my part that part of the eternities will be spent in conversation with all those other eternal beings with whom you desire to continue quality moments with, going over how you might have felt when you saw that spectacular meteor shower in November of 1966 or the fantastic rainbow that graced the sky the day you asked your intended to marry you. Imagine sitting down, with no time limits attached, while the feelings and descriptions of such tender moments are shared. I can only guess that my Father in Heaven would be interested in how my spirit appreciated His handy work, that we might spend time, much as any father would take with one of his children, to check on each one’s progression and growth.

Symptoms of Decay

I may wander around a bit before stumbling onto how I want to cover my unassembled thoughts which have to do with my observations on our ever decaying social structure here in America and around the world. I started the morning reading the Houston Chronicle website, an article by Michael Hedges and James Pinkerton, “Images of dying soldier renew war coverage debate” ( linked via title bar). The New York Times, well known for its desire to supply a story without thinking of the consequences, printed pictures of Army Staff Sgt. Hector Leija as he lay dying from a wound to the head during combat in Iraq.

“A photograph and videotape of a Texas soldier dying in Iraq published by the New York Times have triggered anger from his relatives and Army colleagues and revived a long-standing debate about which images of war are proper to show.”

I said that the New York Times prints stories without thinking of the consequences; more accurately that should have been that they might have thought about it, they just disregard decency, moral obligations to those involved and leaking sensitive information to our enemies all in the name of obtaining a dollar. The New York Times, as are most large media outlets, are not in the business of providing news; they are in the business of providing entertainment to a customer base which requires instant gratification.

Before going on I’d like to point out that Army Staff Sgt. Hector Leija was an honor student and a member of the football team at his local high school; not some drop out who couldn’t get a job other than flipping burgers or emptying waste baskets. I continue to hear blanket insinuations that the military seeks the lowest, the dregs of society, to fill its quota of bodies. This past week one our local NBC affiliates, KPRC, had a special teaser, a short piece of film intended to spark interest in a more detailed documentary that would air at later time. It was included at the end of each news broadcast, something to do with how Army recruiters were able to side step the qualification process to get less than qualified and possibly dangerous individuals past certain check points.

This past week Stephen Littau of Fearless Philosophy For Free Minds wrote and posted, ”Old Media VS New Media”, http://fpffressminds.blogspot.com/2007/01/old-media-vs-new-media.html#comments having to do with the way the media covered certain stories in a haphazard and sloppy manner, or worse, intentionally slanted information in order to sway public opinion. Stephen had many good points that were brought out and I left a comment, some of which I will print here:

“You are correct, “Yes, you and I are the main problem. Far too often, we do not think critically about the news and receive it passively.” You continued to identify the issue when you asserted that we need to ask the proper questions, “As consumers of the news, we should ask the same questions journalists are supposed to ask: who, what, when, where, how, and why.””It is not enough to ask the proper questions, I believe that we are not waiting long enough for the process of questions and answers to run its proper course. We are geared for instant gratification, so much so that we throw the baby out with the bathwater. We have no time to follow up on a story that caught our interest on Monday, desiring instead to hear something different or new on Tuesday. The news media, at all levels, caters to instant gratification, not news.”

Our society has been on a constant rate of decay, sometimes taking huge leaps toward unbridled depravity under the delusion that any and all is fair game and covered under the constitutional right “freedom of expression”. We have been lowering the bar of what is acceptable in news, entertainment, representative government and social order in general. How’s that for rocking the boat in one sentence?

Our Bill of Rights prohibits our government from making laws that limit the free exercise of or abridging our freedom of speech or of the press and there are many who would have us believe that to mean “anything goes”. I’m reminded of specific exclusions to freedom of speech, yelling “Fire” in a crowded theatre simply to create chaos being one; thanks to DL at TMH Bacon Bits for the thought he left in a comment this past week.

Our televisions are full of reality shows, an odd assortment of survival situations staged to show scantily clad bronzed beauties running through the jungle attempting to capture the flag. Our movies splatter the screen with enough blood and gore to fill a cesspool to overflowing while portraying our society as devoid of morality or social order, at least nothing worthy of redemption. Is it any wonder that the New York Times had few if any qualms when it decided to proceed with its coverage in the death of Army Staff Sgt. Hector Leija?

A friend of mine from way back in junior high, that’s middle school for the newer generation, Alan McClung, ( spelling not guaranteed correct ) had some insight regarding the proper way to honor the dead. Alan and I didn’t get along much in the 8th grade but; thinking in retrospect, we were really two of a kind, smaller than most and the target of bullies. Alan grew up to be a veterinarian and I found him quite by accident one night when my black Labrador Retriever, Oscar, got hit by a car, having jumped the fence one night, his last night.

The lady whose car struck Oscar stopped and read the information on his tags, giving us a chance to learn of his need for immediate treatment. We found a late night animal hospital and that’s how I was reunited with Alan, now Dr. McClung.

Alan took Oscar in the back room to see what could be done. I waited in the empty lobby for what seemed forever. Alan eventually came back to let me know that there was nothing he could do to save Oscar and asked if I would let him take care of the disposal. I asked Alan if I could go see Oscar, a farewell to an old friend. Alan’s thoughtful advice has stayed with me all these years, “You shouldn’t look at him the way he is now. You’re better off remembering him the way he was before the accident.”

I’ve wandered around quite a bit while trying to put my finger on why the New York Times printing of some war photographs ate at me this morning. I won’t even go into another story I read about, some young man’s demented video that ended up on MySpace showing how he staked a stray cat to the ground just so he could tape his pit bull tearing it to shreds. We have to decide what we watch, what we listen to, what we think about, with whom we associate along with and all the other choices that go along with the freedoms afforded each and every citizen here in America. I’m afraid that far too many are making poor choices, the kind that drag an entire society into the gutter to be swept down the drain; but isn’t that what drains are for, to receive the remnants of decay left exposed to the light?

Lt. Larry Smith - a final tribute

I read where an old friend of mine passed away this morning after a long battle with cancer. I never worked with him directly, at least not under his command while I was in the Department. He’s the nicest guy I ever hit with a folding metal chair, accidentally and without malice. I suppose I should explain that last line.

Back in the old days, before the DWI folks had taken over the bottom floor of the old police academy building behind 61 Riesner at the main police station, DWI suspects were taken to the second floor roll call room to be processed. There was a cubby hole of a room where they had a breathalyzer and a couple of long work tables where we would fill out all the necessary forms. There were supervisor’s offices around the perimeter of the room, Accident, Traffic Enforcement and Point Control.

My partner, R. C. Kersten, and I had arrested a rather large fellow, think of the Green Mile and John Koffee, “like the drink only spelled with a K”. We’d arrested him after he’d driven several miles the wrong way down the outbound lanes of the Katy freeway when he exited downtown and stopped him after he traveled another fifteen blocks or so. His wrists were so large that I don’t think even leg irons would have worked, much less a pair of plain handcuffs so we were more than grateful that he was “peaceable” when he finally figured out we wanted him to stop. This was before all the police cars had Plexiglas or even a mesh cage to separate the front seat from the back. My partner and I had little if any seniority and were driving an older unit, one without a divider, so the prisoner was placed in the passenger seat up front with only a seat belt to hold him in place.

I was pretty good at talking softly and kept things light and easy all the way to the station while Bob drove the suspect’s vehicle to the impound lot; yes, a lot of things changed over the years. We had the suspect sitting in one of the metal folding chairs under those ugly fluorescent lights that illuminated the large roll call room. He was looking all around and started to become upset when it dawned on him that he’d been arrested and was going to jail. When he got up; rather, he exploded in rage it took a room full of young police officers to tackle him to the floor. Chairs and tables were being knocked around and folks from their private offices came out to see the small scale riot.

Lt. Smith was in one of those offices and came to jump into the fray just as I was letting fly with a chair aimed at the suspect who had managed to get back to his feet, several officers clinging as he dragged them across mid field. The chair glanced off Lt. Smith’s shoulder as I attempted to stop it once I realized what was about to happen. I don’t think it got him too badly, at least he didn’t complain; facts be known, I think he even smiled for having been able to join in a good fight. Once everything was under control we escorted the suspect down to the jail and finished the paper work later. Funny how something from so long ago would be the first thing I thought of when I heard of his passing. Farewell and peace be with you for having fought the good fight.

Tell me I’m mistaken…

I was reading Greg’s article, “Rev. Robert Drinan – RIP”, at his blog, Rhymes with Right where he brought to light how the Vatican forced him from public office rather than have a priest in the public spot light (link via title bar)

I immediately thought of another highly outspoken religious figure who served in public office, Ezra Taft Benson. I had recently posted a short piece on the right to peacefully assemble and was aware of how strongly Ezra Taft Benson felt regarding the Constitution and individual rights. I went to the official website of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to search the archives for references, then went to Wikipedia to obtain a brief biography, an overview of how the secular world perceived his efforts. Here is what Ezra Taft Benson, Secretary of Agriculture under Dwight D. Eisenhower and President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, had to say regarding communism.

“I have talked face to face with the godless communist leaders. It may surprise you to learn that I was host to Mr. Kyrushchev for a half day when he visited the United States, not that I’m proud of it. I opposed his coming then, and I still feel it was a mistake to welcome this atheistic murderer as a state visitor. But, according to President Eisenhower, Khrushchev had expressed a desire to learn something of American Agriculture — and after seeing Russian agriculture I can understand why. As we talked face to face, he indicated that my grandchildren would live under communism. After assuring him that I expected to do all in my power to assure that his and all other grandchildren will live under freedom, he arrogantly declared in substance:

“‘You Americans are so gullible. No, you won’t accept communism outright, but we’ll keep feeding you small doses of socialism until you’ll finally wake up and find you already have communism. We won’t have to fight you. We’ll so weaken your economy until you’ll fall like overripe fruit into our hands.’

“And they’re ahead of schedule in their devilish scheme.” (Ezra Taft Benson “Our Immediate Responsibility.” Devotional Address at Brigham Young University. circa 1968.”)

Our elected Congress and Senate must not have read the warning as they constantly sugar coat the poison of socialism and spoon feed it to us in ever increasing amounts. They sound so sincere as they stand up in front of the microphones pandering for votes, “It’s for the children” or “We need to make sure that everyone gets what they’re entitled to in this land of opportunity”, never stopping to consider the irreparable damage done to a once free people by shackling everyone to permanent socialism and yes, communism. What is the cost of their programs to redistribute earned wealth through taxation and confiscation? “And they’re ahead of schedule in their devilish scheme.” There is no doubt in my mind that Ezra Taft Benson was indeed a Prophet, Seer and Revelator; tell me I’m mistaken.

The Right to Peacefully Assemble

The Right to Peacefully Assemble

I read an AP article on the Foxnews website, “Moscow Mayor Calls Gay Rights Parade 'Satanic'”. The gay rights activists have demanded the opportunity to hold a parade and the mayor has staunchly denied permission ( link provided in title bar )

In America we have the Constitution and the Bill of Rights; I know, just a piece of paper to some folks, that provide a means of recognizing specific individual rights. One day it might be nice if we all took a few moments to read those documents. I can’t fathom why any individual or group of individuals who live a life style that I can only call a “deviant expression”, deviant as pertaining to those actions declared so by our Father in Heaven, why these folks would want the spot light turned on them as they wallow in their filth.

That having been said, our First Amendment clearly defines the rights of such deviants to express themselves in group protestation against the very society from which they have strayed; provided that the celebration or grievance is done in a peaceable manner. What constitutes “peaceable manner”; does that mean threat of violence either by those involved in the march or does it imply that those who deplore the deviant life style might not be able to contain their loathing and become violent against the marchers?

I have no idea what kind of individual rights are set down in law over in Russia; don’t really give a hoot either, I live in America. All things being equal, or if Moscow were here in America I’d have to side against the mayor and proceed on the assumption that all marches are peaceful assemblies on face value; to imply otherwise chips away at the foundation of our most basic belief that all are innocent until proven otherwise. It is lawful to be a homosexual, even if such deviant behavior is an abomination before God; the consequences are of an eternal nature and should be left to God when judgment is exacted. By extension it is lawful for a group of homosexuals to gather in groups, to march and to glorify their deviant life style in the face of those who have chosen a more conservative path, one which they believe to be in accordance with the will of God.

I would require safe conduct be provided by law enforcement; both to protect those involved in the march and to enforce laws which outline proper conduct in public. I have observed many marches in my twenty years as a police officer, many times while I was assigned in exactly that capacity, to provide a safe environment when hostilities run high.

I have had the opportunity, a modest alteration of how I might have expressed such an assignment earlier in my life, to provide police protection for all manner of unpleasant marches; KKK, Iranian protests and even against Dung Chiow Ping (spelling optional, lol). We had a special squad of officers to provide pre-march security measures; removal of strategically placed weapons along the parade route such as sacks of rocks stored in newspaper sales boxes, clubs that had the appearance of being picket signs and such.

On only one march did we as a specialized group of police officers have to (get to) storm the “minority” marchers and remove several of them when it was determined that they were holding “clubs” rather than banners on sticks. I’m not sure what the difference is between a tomato stake pole with a flag and a club with a flag; but the march had turned particularly ugly and it might have been the best way to put a lid on it and that was a command decision made higher up the chain. It gave us a chance to use the riot tactics we had practiced for years; not to mention a chance to remove some human slime from the side walks of Houston, even if it was just for a little while it felt good.

We need to remember that the rights that we claim for ourselves are evenly distributed with the rest of those we share this country with; the rain falls on the just and the unjust. While I cannot accept the deviant life styles put on display by the “gay rights” individuals or groups, they should not be denied freedom of expression as long as such expression does not cross over the fine line between civil and one that is patently offensive with the intention of causing harm.

I have written in the past, mostly in the form of comments to articles I have read by others, on how ironic it must seem that the use of God given rights can be heralded by those intent on defiance of those restrictions placed on mortals by that very same God. It is not logical that the Creator of Heaven and Earth, that God who provided the inspiration to pen such magnificent documents as the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights would have given those individual freedoms and rights, the necessary “agency of man” intended to permit his/her return to His presence once mortality had finished, to be perverted in meaning as to include such bizarre expressions as homosexual “rights”, abortion or as it has been called by the politically correct, “women’s right of choice”, pornographic displays in the name of “free speech” and so on down the line of depravity.

Home Repairs and Outlets

Lucy loves to watch television shows that deal with fixing up houses; total makeovers, landscape overhauls, one room paint jobs and things like that. I can watch for awhile; just not for hours as Lucy will. This morning when I got out of bed; my early meetings at church having been canceled so I could sleep in, they were changing the front of a house to make it look more appealing; a curved retaining wall on a slope complete with new plants and sod, a new front door, flower boxes and a weather vane on the roof.

The second fix it up show started with a home built at the turn of the century; no, not 2000. The house had been built before electricity was in common use so the new owners had electrical cords like spider veins hooked to the few outlets available. The fellow who came to inspect the house opened the electric box on the outside; it had maybe four or five breakers, none of which worked the way they’re supposed to work. They were going to have to replace the entire electrical system of the house to bring it up to present expectations both for safety and convenience.

I had seen enough as I remarked that it reminded me of our first house, built to accommodate the post WWII boom. I suppose they figured that most folks were poor and only needed a basic structure with few closets and a few electrical outlets, maybe one per room. With each successive owner the house had been altered to meet the demands of time; an addition of a large den nearly doubled the size of the house was added just prior to our purchase and the entry cut the kitchen in half. Lucy cried when I told her we would buy that house in spite of my promising to make some changes that would make it look nice. It was our chance to get out of apartment living and the strange woman who lived above us and took baths at all hours of the night all night long.

One of the first things we did was to cut a door to the den where a window had been, where it should have been from the start, and seal up the other so the kitchen was whole again. Then we tore the gold flocked wall paper from the dining room, wall paper which had been painted a sickly pale yellow ocher. Once that was painted and paneled with a maple wainscot we found a chandelier hanging in the middle of the room that we hadn’t taken notice of before, the room having been so depressing; Lucy stopped crying as the house began to look better.

We took on the job of completing the den which had been poorly done, more like a large cluttered storage room, by learning how to put sheet rock on the ceiling and walls. I went to plug my power tools into the outlet only to find that it didn’t work. I took the face plate off to see if the wires had worked loose only to find that there were no wires, never had been. They had cut a hole for an electric outlet just to make it look like there was electricity in that room.

We had an electrician install power to that room and continued to make other improvements. I cut an archway between our bedroom and the adjoining room and installed closets with a window seat between them. That was the weekend that I blew out a lung and ended up in the hospital for a few days; they called it a collapsed lung. I won’t go into detail other than to say it was not any fun, none at all.

We partitioned the formal living room into a parlor with the other half being turned into a huge food storage closet and work area. I put in an old fashioned wheat grinder, the kind with the stones that were turned with external pulley belts that I’d hooked to an electric motor. It was hypnotizing to watch the wheat berries work their way down a large funnel on top as the stones ground them into flour; slowly and inefficiently but it got the job done. Lucy later replaced that with a fancy self contained unit that sounds like an airplane taking off when the last of the wheat berries run out of the funnel; grinds the wheat twenty times faster and can be adjusted to almost any desired consistency of flour.

We had the wood floors repaired and resurfaced, a dark oak that had been covered with cheap carpet and neglected for years. I guess that’s why they call your first home a “fixer upper”. We learned how to do basic carpentry, dry wall, electrical, painting and when we were done the house looked really nice.

In the back yard I put in a chain link dog run for our Labrador. Then I put in a curved brick planter box next to it to make it look nice. There was a dead pine tree, maybe 75 foot tall that had to come down. Someone smarter than me would have let a professional come over; but I was working on a limited budget and decided to become a tree monkey.

I remember my neighbor lady watching as I climbed ever higher with my bow saw, the tree swaying in the light breeze, “Should I call an ambulance now or wait?” That was funny, yea, say something else encouraging. I got about two thirds up the tree before my fear of heights kicked in. I cut a wedge into the trunk in such a way as to aim the top portion away from the house and the dog run; luck was with me and it fell without killing me or hitting anything, glad I watched that show on lumberjacks. Once the tree was down we used it as a border for the garden.

That about does it, don’t know if I’d be up to that kind of challenge today. I’m sitting in my favorite chair in my living room. We just had wood floors installed, a nice looking oriental carpet to bring out the colors of the freshly painted walls and the new curtains that we installed last week; no, I don’t think I’m up to that kind of stuff any more.

Here are links to show some of the work that went into this latest improvement. I hope to find photos of that first house and scan them so I can eventually show those also.

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2006/11/almost-there_24.html

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2006/11/wood-flooring-going-in.html

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2006/11/progress-is-being-made.html

I could have been a…

Big White Hat wrote that his company laid off the entire section of workers, himself included, in spite of their having achieved production levels above and beyond what had been asked of them (linked via title bar) Here’s wishing them all well as they embark on finding a way to satisfy their economic responsibilities as well as providing them with meaningful work opportunities.

My dad once told me about an elderly fellow who’d worked for the Church of England most of his years in what we would call a janitor or custodial position. I’m not all that familiar with their formal names; but I have been told that every job has a title attached, regardless of the duties.

The hierarchy decided that everyone with a position of title would be required to meet certain minimum standards; to include the ability to read and write, as a means of presenting the Church as a progressive leader in the community. They called the janitor into the Bishop’s office and explained the new requirements while at the same time releasing him to the ranks of the unemployed.

Being up in years and finding himself walking home on a dismal winter’s evening he reached into his coat pocket for his favorite pipe and then for some tobacco only to find that he was out of pipe tobacco. He immediately set about finding a tobacconist as he wandered through the ever darkening streets. Block after block he walked in search of some tobacco for his pipe until he came to the realization that there just weren’t any.

He decided to open a tobacco shop; after all, some others might not wish to travel clear across town for fresh tobacco and it might prove to be a profitable venture. It took a bit of doing but after a while his shop became successful, enough so that he had to hire employees to help out.

In the afternoon he would leave the shop and walk the streets of London looking for other areas of town that might support additional tobacco shops. Years went by and he had shops all over London and had amassed quite a bit of money. He worried about keeping such large sums in his home and decided to put it into the local bank.

The banker sat in his chair going over the information and was startled to hear that this very accomplished businessman had been storing all that money in suit cases and storage bins around the house. “If you’ll fill out this form I will put that money to work for you, investing it and creating even more wealth for you.”

The old man hung his head in shame as he explained that he could neither read nor write and asked the banker to fill in the form for him. Blind sided by the revelation, “Just think what you could have done if you had learned to read and write”, the banker stammered.

“Yea, I could have been a janitor.”

Hard to explain

I read an article written by Eric Hanson in the Houston Chronicle “Woman's survival of house blast called 'miracle'” (linked via title bar).

“Fire investigators and Quail Valley residents used the words "amazing," "unbelievable" and "miracle" to describe the survival of a 69-year-old woman after an explosion destroyed her brick house early Thursday.”

{. . .}

“The only thing left standing on the smoldering concrete foundation was the brick fireplace. A dazed Smith stood clad in her pajamas amid the debris and suffered only minor burns.”

While it is believed that the explosion was caused by a gas leak the investigation is on going. Several neighboring homes were damaged; mostly broken windows from the blast.

Reading about the woman standing there in her pajamas, a bit dazed and confused as to what had happened reminded me of a call I ran as a police officer on night shift to investigate an accident where a car had flipped and caught fire. My partner and I arrived and saw the car was upside down with the roof collapsed down so far that it rested on the lower window edges; there was no way anyone inside could have gotten out with the doors wedged shut. We fully expected the worst as we waited for the fire department. A man, presumably a neighbor, was holding a garden hose trying to put out the flames that had engulfed the car to keep the flames from advancing on a huge oak tree in the front yard.

The fire department arrived a few minutes later and extinguished the flames and was about to use the “jaws of life” to make it possible to retrieve who ever might be inside the crushed vehicle. It was then that the fellow holding the garden hose told us that nobody else had been in the car. My partner and I looked at each other and asked him to elaborate; which would be difficult since he was pretty much “spiffed”.

We figured out what had happened, or filled in most of the blanks based on the skid marks and the first impact point which was on the other side of the street corner in a low level drainage ditch. The car left the roadway at a pretty good clip and went head on into the wall of the ditch at which point the driver was ejected from the vehicle through the windshield. The entire windshield broke free and wrapped the driver, sort of like a blanket as he was hurled across the street and landed on the damp lawn and skidded safely to a halt.

The car apparently did an end over end flip and landed on its roof, collapsed the roof and caught fire at the base of the tree which awoke the folks inside the house. They came out and found the wreckage on fire along with some stranger holding their garden hose. My partner and I arrived in short order and since nobody could witness the “alleged“ drunk driving stunt, we had the survivor transported to the hospital in an ambulance to be checked out. Aside from a few minor scratches the driver had escaped certain death; nothing short of a miracle, standing in the middle of a strange yard holding a garden hose and not quite sure how he got there.

Lightning Sensors

This morning’s Houston Chronicle featured an article written by Eric Berger, “Scientists hope sensors will improve strike predictions” (linked via title bar). According to the story, Houston leads Texas with the number of lightning strikes and is second only to Florida in lightning strikes per square mile.

“Scientists now believe they can improve their predictions of which thunderstorms will produce lightning by studying the meteorological seeds within clouds that lead to ground strikes.”

I work outside making keys, often times during inclement weather at the leading edge of a thunderstorm’s wrath. The wind picks up or changes direction and I wonder how much time I have to finish a job before the sky falls. I don’t like working in the rain and I sure don’t like pushing my luck when there’s a chance of lightning; holding my favorite impression file as a lightning rod. This is supposed to be a technically oriented article so I must have been holding my 8 inch Swiss Grobet # 4 round impression file with matching wood handle.

When my son William was very young I could take him along on jobs. One afternoon I was fitting a trunk key to a Crown Victoria on the back lot of Scott & Sons, a small car lot on Shepherd where it intersects with Parker. The weather was moving in quickly so I had William get inside the truck while I raced to finish making the impression key. William pleaded with me to get in with each clap of thunder, flinching as he watched the pink fingers streak out from the ominous dark skies.

I could feel the hair on the back of my neck reacting to the electricity in the air, similar to when I unloaded warm dry towels from the dryer and watched as the hair on my hands follow the static clinging between the folds of cloth. I had an uneasy feeling; that it was time to get inside and out of harms way. I was pressing my luck standing with my lightning rod “sensor” in one hand, my shoulders drawn together in anticipation of the next lightning strike and working as fast as I knew how. The key turned and I polished the ramps for it to enter and exit properly, ran off a finished key on my duplicator and got inside the cab of the truck.

Within a heartbeat of having shut the door lightning struck the telephone pole next to the car I had just finished making keys for. I watched it dance down the telephone lines headed north for several hundred yards, jumping over the poles in the distances until it evaporated.

You know how they say time stands still when you become part of a life threatening event; maybe that’s a chance to understand the eternities, that existence when we have no need for the observance of time. How else could I have witnessed lightning strike so close and travel across the wires and never hear the thunder clap that surely must have accompanied it? William and I acknowledged the close call as we swallowed and gulped simultaneously.

I suppose scientists could place fancy electronic equipment all over the city. They can study how, when and where lightning strikes and learn a great deal; they might even improve forecasting dangerous storms; but nothing will take the place of common sense, things like my mother would ask, “Don’t you have sense enough to get in out of the rain?” “Getting older does not automatically guarantee getting wiser”, mom has lots of these little sayings; her favorite has become, “Hang up and drive”.

New World Order

I watched Decoding the Past on the History Channel, , “Secrets of the Dollar Bill”, the meanings behind the symbols and numbers on the U.S. dollar bill. I enjoyed the show; wondering at times if the folks interviewed could be considered seriously as they seemed a bit over the top in either their manner of dress or level of paranoia. The narration tended to lean toward a conspiracy to entwine cult or religious symbols into everyday money in such a way as to hide some dark plan that would eventually lead to a New World Order; no, I’m not making this up as I go.

One of the folks interviewed, Dr. Robert Hieronimus, was sitting behind a desk wearing an intense American flag shirt along with a biker style black leather vest; yup, that’s exactly what I’d have picked knowing I was being interviewed for a show to be seen by millions. Dr. Hieronimus is the author of Founding Fathers, Secret Societies. He went on to explain about both sides of the Great Seal used on our dollar bill; the front side with the eagle holding an olive branch with 13 leaves, 13 arrows and 13 stars forming a circle above the eagle and 13 stripes and bars. All those number 13’s may have had to do with the original 13 colonies; supposedly; change an octave lower as the music warns us not to be so sure, doubt is inserted and reference is made to Satan’s number.

The flip side of the Great Seal was talked about, the unfinished pyramid with the “all seeing eye” floating above and the inscriptions written in Latin. There was a sinister plot, something that shouldn’t be revealed, at least not to anyone who wasn’t in the elite circle of the founding fathers or the Masons. Quite a bit was mentioned about the Masons, mostly an inference that they must be evil and subversive because, as A. Ralph Epperson, author of, The New World Order, implied, the Masons claim that it’s not secret; it’s sacred. He comes right out and tells us, “I can’t go in to observe their secret meetings, you can’t go in, what’s the big secret?” or something close. “It must be evil”, the Masonic symbols are on our money, secret symbols that can only be understood by their members, is that not to be feared?

Somewhere in the program the idea was brought up that Free Masons were some kind of secret religion, not necessarily anti-Christian; but a religion that would bring about a New World Order. What kind of New World Order, was it a political union such as the EU is attempting, doing away with individual countries and their independent governments or was the New World Order more of a religious order, one that would precede the Second Coming of Jesus Christ? These speculative possibilities floated around but no concrete accusations were ever made, only implied as various rituals of Free Masonry were depicted; secret or sacred in nature can only be my guess. This is all one huge conspiracy, at least to hear them tell it, a plot hatched by our founding fathers; George Washington being one of the most visible Free Masons, with a full compliment of co-conspirator Masons picked as his inner circle.

So who were these evil men, the hidden cult of Masons that were going to infiltrate our society and hide diabolic symbols in our money to bring about a New World Order? George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Paul Revere, John Hancock, John Adams and possibly Thomas Jefferson; but no proof that Jefferson was a member has been substantiated. As soon as I saw that list of names I immediately thought of them as evil minded men intent on destroying the Christian values of this new nation.

The unfinished pyramid was talked about; the idea that it was a symbol for some kind of a temple where “secret” Masonic ordinances would be performed; oh yes, and that this temple would be a house for their God, the Great Architect of the Universe, their Creator to call home. I realize that they meant this in an unpleasant or even sinister way since the implication was that the Mason’s must have their own God, a different One than the rest of Christians here in America; however, being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints I couldn’t help but think of how each of our temples is built and dedicated as a House of the Lord, a place where He can dwell here on earth. It is a place where sacred ordinances are performed, so sacred that details are not shared openly outside the walls of the temple. I can assure you, such sacredness should not be considered secret or sinister in any way; but I suppose anything not totally exposed to the public could be interpreted as sinister simply because it’s unknown and anything unknown must be evil.

The “all seeing eye” that floats above the unfinished pyramid was talked about, having many possible meanings, some of which could be Masonic or even Egyptian in origin. It was suggested that it represented the “yet to be finished” or the capstone that would lead to the New World Order. These symbols were created within six years, give or take, from our day of independence; well before the Book of Mormon was translated and given to the world as a Second Witness of the divinity of Jesus Christ. The Book of Mormon is often called the “capstone” of our religion. I felt a buzzing in my head as all these ideas came bouncing through my thoughts.

Here’s what I have so far; all speculation mind you. The Masons might well have their sacred symbols etched on the dollar bill. The Masons might have been something like a John the Baptist for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints; a huge jump if ever there was one, preparing a way before the Fullness of the Gospel would be restored. Instead of the New World Order being some kind of political system full of crooked elitists, could they be laying the foundation for the House of Order, a government that will have Jesus Christ at the head? Could all of the history of the American people be about making those events come to pass which would permit the freedom of religion, enough to permit the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, the building up of the Kingdom on earth, the building of holy temples where God’s children could be instructed and obtain those eternal ordinances promised? That’s quite a bit of speculation; but I’d prefer my questions to those who seek to alarm or discredit by virtue of the unknown, and we all know that what we don’t understand must be evil…

I’ve linked with Angel over at Woman Honor Thyself where she has Daydream Believers Open Trackback Weekend. This article just might fit with the topic, huh?

http://www.womanhonorthyself.com/

Art Contest

Bonnie sent me an entry form for The National Space Society (link via title bar ) as a means of sharing one of my paintings, Moonfish, in which I showed an astronaut holding a fishing pole next to a small pool, a ripple in the water where the line went in. I’d never thought of submitting any of my paintings to a contest, having used that medium of self expression for my own amusement. Wow, that would be neat, one of my pictures in a national calendar.

Here are links to other paintings I’ve posted on my site:

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2005/03/go-back-to-sleep.html

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2005/03/picture-worth-thousand-words.html

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2005/12/two-babes-in-manger-author-unknown.html

http://tfsternsrantings.blogspot.com/2005/12/truth-about-santa-claus-author-unknown.html

Outer Limits is Real

We control the horizontal, the images you see…or something like that is the way the Outer Limits started, an annoying electronic assault on your ears prior to the first scene of the show. I thought it was all just Sci-fi entertainment until I read about “Franken-fungus” (linked via title bar) in a Houston Chronicle article written by John Otis this morning.

Some members of congress think the war on drugs isn’t working and they want to up the ante by spraying the illegal crops with “mycoherbicides, weed killers made from toxic, mold-like fungi that they believe could be used to eliminate illegal drug crops for good.” There is a chance that the toxic mycoherbicides could mutate and destroy the world’s food supply; but that is only a small possibility, something that only happens in a worst case scenario. ( Just a guess; but that probably should be micro herbicides )

The first thing I thought of after reading the article was a group of folks out in the middle of the ocean on a large cruise ship. One of the passengers is threatening to share his illegal drugs with all the other passengers from his cabin and locks himself in. Most of the passengers avoid going near that area of the ship; but a few are upset and demand that particular passenger be gotten rid of to make the ship safe for everyone.

These few narrow minded passengers devise a sinister plan which involves cutting a hole in the bottom of the ship directly beneath the locked cabin containing the threat. “If everything goes well that one cabin will flood and leave us in peace.” They ignore the protests of the other passengers, the ones who point out the dangers of cutting holes in the bottom of the ship and the idea is presented to the captain who wants to be rid of the threatening passenger as much as anyone. The captain gives his permission to sink that part of the ship; but only that part of the ship.

I suppose it would be too simple to leave the threat alone; just don’t buy illegal drugs. This isn’t much different than the advice of abstaining from sexual relations until marriage to avoid sexually transmitted diseases and the epidemic which is destroying lives in record numbers.

We now return control of your set until the next time…

Dentists - people we love to hate

Ted, who writes Musings of an Old Man posted one, “Teeth Problems”, and reminded me of how much going to the dentist traumatized me. I’ve linked to his article (via title bar) but add a cautionary line for the squeamish, it might hit a nerve.

Dentist, the mention of the word sends my nervous system into Defcom 3. When I was growing up I went to one who took lessons from Boris Karloff on how to scare children through the use of psychological and actual pain. He understood the concept of pending doom, fear created in the dark corners of a child’s mind, the kind that works out details of the “yet to be experienced”; just the opposite of unbridled joy that builds prior to going to Disney World or looking forward to a birthday party.

Ted has a picture of an antique dentist drill, an apparatus of ingenious design from an earlier era; possibly taken from an old Vincent Price horror movie set. My dentist, the one from childhood, had one that put an exclamation mark on the word terror. I had plenty of time to study the mechanical monster, pulleys and elbow joints of metal with a handle that resembled a Jedi hand saber on the end. Instead of rubber banding as a means of driving the pulleys, at least if memory serves, there were some kind of flexible metal tubes, like a smooth serrated stainless steel chain that might be used as a necklace except long enough to extend from one end of the apparatus to the other.

He would test the machine, prime the fear mechanism in my brain; a low roar was produced as the floor absorbed its vibration and transferred it to the chair in which I was sitting. There was a mechanical noise that accompanied the vibration from the motor that drove the spinning pulleys, the blur of an endless linked tube of driving belts adjusting as the elbows aligned to match the desired angle of attack. “Open a little wider, there, now hold it.”

Once the drill came in contact with the tooth surface there was a noticeable drain on the entire system causing it to change sounds and vibration; a system which now produced an ominous pulse, a slowed chunking sound as if the drill bit was tearing bits of my tooth off rather than carefully passing through and removing the decayed portions. I could feel bits and pieces that had been cast onto the sides of my tongue awaiting removal.

Child protection folks would have brought him up on charges except dentists are on the list of untouchables. I watched a movie the other day, “Nanny McPhee”, an excellent children’s film with Emma Thompson. Somehow I could see Nanny McPhee taking the children to a dentist, one very much like the dentist I had to endure, as a means of getting their attention, maybe calling it lesson “Two”.

I can see the tip of her walking stick being lifted slightly, the children catching a whiff of danger about to befall them as static electricity gathered from around the floor directly beneath Nanny McPhee; then, thump, all of them would be helplessly restrained from exiting dentist’s chairs that miraculously appeared in their house. Each child would have to watch and wait while a clumsy man poked and prodded; rubber gloved hands covered with slime in their mouths, never washing as he attended each child one after another, drilling here and there until the lesson was over. “Please, Nanny McPhee, may we brush our teeth after each meal?” Nanny McPhee smiles as the children notice yet another blemish disappear from her cheek.

I don’t recall my dentist’s name; just as well since I have the ability to hire a reasonably expensive lawyer now. I’m not a big fan of horror movies, the Stephen King crowd with macabre creatures lurking behind the bathroom closet door drooling translucent green slime from their nostrils while sharpening their razor sharp clanking claws prior to an innocent humanoid entering to brush his/her teeth. There would be dark visions cast across the mirror above an old fashioned stand alone sink; shadowy figures of doom in red and black just prior to the beasts skulking out from behind the bathroom closet door that was slowly creaking open, only a little opening at first, just enough to cause a subtle change in the room’s ever chilling temperature. If only for a moment, the briefest of cognizance prior to the beast sinking those claws into the victim, in that moment there would be a likeness of my childhood dentist manifested, a final reminder that none of this would have to have happened if only he/she had brushed more often and had taken the time to floss.

Social Security and the Promise of Retirement

Retirement on Social Security, the pot of gold at the end of a long awaited journey; yea and if you believe that one I have some land in West Texas you might be interested in. I wouldn’t have brought the subject up had it not been for an article I read on CNN’s website. According to Ruben Navarrette Jr, “imagine the burden on younger workers of having to keep legions of aging flower children in a comfy retirement”; comfy retirement; really?

I’m approaching that golden number where I can submit a form, sit back and watch the money roll in from my social security checks. I can see the grapes growing row upon row as Lucy and I relax from our vantage point on the hill, naked as the day we were born in our individual old fashioned bathtubs, holding hands and waiting for “just the right moment”, the sunset fading; sorry, wrong commercial. Maybe our grandchildren are worrying about us as we have a fling at Disney World; golfing, playing tennis, up all hours dancing and drinking. I suppose that might be a tall order since neither of us golf, play tennis or drink. Just how far does Ruben think we’ll get on a social security check of $ 1600 a month?

The dollar amount might be off; but not more than a hundred either way. Is that enough for a comfy retirement? I better do some quick computations before hunkering down in that tub to watch the grapes grow. Thank goodness the house and cars will be paid for and those vehicles had better last another twenty years because a car note will be out of the question. Then there’s auto and health insurance, property and school taxes, utilities, food and a little for the never ending list of things that wear out or break when you least expect it. That $ 1600.00 is looking pretty thin and Alice, you remember Alice, that lady who owns the grape vineyard, the one who told us we could spend our golden years on the top of her hill; I can’t even see Alice.

I know how to make it all work, retire in Mexico. I’ve heard that many folks are living very comfortably down there, complete with house servants. The advantage to being in Mexico; those house servants would be legal down there. It would help if I spoke Spanish and learned how to assimilate into their culture; I wonder, do they grow grapes down in Mexico?