Snow Forecast in Houston

One of my routines upon getting up in the morning is to check the local weather to get an idea of how to dress, working outside as a mobile locksmith makes it important. Yesterday there was talk about a slim possibility of snow or freezing precipitation; but a strong emphasis that in all likelihood it would not make the Houston area, staying well to the north and west.

This morning's forecast has been altered slightly; Houston could get as much as half an inch of snow some time later this afternoon. I looked at the fancy weather maps and noticed how the “freeze line” was moving ever closer to us as the front advanced. Rush hour might be a real mess as those still employed navigate Houston streets this evening.

In other chilling news, Obama and Democrat strong arms in congress have decided to move forward with yet another version of health care reform . Erica Werner’s AP article brought out the sad fact that Democrats are willing to push through far reaching legislation in spite of a total lack of bi-partisan input and against the wishes of the American public.

“Democrats in Washington either aren't listening, or are completely ignoring what Americans across the country have been saying,” said Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-Ky. “Our constituents don’t want yet another partisan, back-room bill that slashes Medicare for our seniors, raises a half-trillion dollars in new taxes, fines them if they don't buy the right insurance and further expands the role of government.”

I don’t think there’s enough chicken soup to go around if this piece of socialized America gets passed. The storm is headed our way, watch your wallets.

Odds and Ends February 22, 2010

We watched an interesting movie, Temple Grandin , about an autistic young woman who came to grips with her special challenges. This one is a roller coaster of emotions; getting to be an old softie the older I get. We used the Video on Demand function on or cable service; but this might be one to add to our collection.

During one of our Sunday morning meetings mention was made of an upcoming basketball tournament and the need for volunteer officiators. I heard the comment, “Church basketball is the only gang fight where they start off with a prayer”. Think on that for a moment, a little like hockey but not as much protection.

I have a planter box in my kitchen nook full of freshly sprouted tomato plants. Spring is just around the corner; needless to say I won’t be planting them in the garden this week as we have a “slight” chance of snow tomorrow here in the Houston area. My guess is we won’t see any of the white stuff, just some more rain, any snow falling to the ground will be north and west of us.

Two of our Hobo Kitties , Brother and Cousin Head Buttr’, have been testing their opportunities to enter the house as mild temperatures of late have permitted me to leave the back door open. They will venture in cautiously and then exit, return and even enjoy the cat bed we placed under the kitchen nook table, its corners treated with cat nip, and then scurry outside at the hint of danger.

Head Buttr’ looks so much like the Princess , her sister/cousin; never were quite sure what the family tree looked like. Brother has been getting over a butt whuppin’, the skin nearly healed on his hind quarters where he got chewed up pretty good. They both live to have the back of their heads scratched; a chance to mingle with us without too much commitment.

Bubba, our senior kitty and inside cat of thirteen years, has a look about her which, if translated would come off as, “Hey, who keeps leaving the back door open? Can’t you see the Hobo Kitties are getting inside?” Bubba then takes up a position on the edge of the den next to one of the floor speakers as a warning to pretentious kittens, occasionally spouting off unpleasant remarks in their direction.

I had an interesting dream the other night having to do with Lucy’s camera. Some how it got left at a friend’s house, in the dream, and they engraved their name on it, believing it was theirs. Upon realizing the mistake they offered to replace it with a camera which had been recently given them on an out of the country business trip. It was a fancy SLR camera; but when you looked through the lens, instead of seeing a normal image it showed something from a hundred years earlier. I’m working on a way to write a short story out of that; should be fun.

Two friends from church are battling cancer; perhaps battling doesn’t properly cover what is happening, at least not with both of them. One went down to the local funeral home and made final arrangements while the other is looking for a way to come out on top, extend life and beat this thing.

I wish I could wave a magic wand and take away their pain and worry; but adversity is part of life, the refining process. I read an article by Kristine Frederickson the other day on the subject of adversity where she shared some interesting thoughts. Here’s a taste of that article:

“Imagine yourself living in a house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of; throwing out a new wing here, putting an extra floor there, running up towers, making court yards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage; but He is building a palace.”

Have you ever noticed how folks drive down the road, some are always preparing to stop while others are looking for a chance to go? My own observation; but think about it, are we more worried about our yesterdays to the point where we forget about tomorrow? Let me have a glimpse of tomorrow, a chance to let the engine roar a bit, put it in gear an stay out of my way. Brakes, we don’t need no stinkin’ brakes!

The S Word

Nickie Goomba's friend Victoria Jackson wrote on the F word ; her daughter being advised not to use the word Fart in public. Okay, so there was reference to Rahm Emanuel’s use of the F word, and it wasn’t Fudge; but that was simply a means to an end.

Having been a police officer, sitting through many roll call bulletins, techniques for farting on queue had to be developed so as to acknowledge bulletins coming from the Chief’s office as opposed to those from city hall. You got points for being adept at this, trust me.

My partner, never to let an opportunity “pass” without comment would immediately ask, upon hearing the familiar buzz, “Sgt. Who?” This led to a minor change in social workings; instead of asking, “Who Farted”, from then on until the present it’s, “Sgt. Who”, the S word.

Imagine, grown men giggling about passed gasses. Twenty plus years of damaged social graces results in a flawed assessment of what’s funny. When my grandchildren hear me say, “Sgt. Who”, they quickly respond with, “That’s gross, Pepaw!” We all laugh and get on with life and I don’t think “Sgt. Who” is any better or worse than what my friend from the country used to call, “Barking spiders”. He’d pretend to step on the escaping spider by tap dancing his shoe on an imaginary spot on the floor; hope to never grow up and forget how to have fun.

Cell Phone Health Risks

I read an article on Electromagnetic Fields, by Dr. Mercola, which pointed out the dangers of cell phone use to the human body ; similar to the dangers of tobacco use and not widely known. I tried to copy all or part of the article; but for some reason that function was blocked.

Several important issues are worth mentioning as a “carrot” that will entice you to go read the original article. Cell phones are not a danger to the operation of airplanes by interfering with flight controls or communications; the real danger has to do with microwaves bouncing around the cabin and destroying humans inside the airplane; bet you didn’t know that.

Never use cell phones or laptop computers on airplanes because the metal skin of the plane acts just like a microwave oven and irradiates the body. It doesn’t matter if the plane is in the air or on the ground, the potential damaging emissions are the same.

The Cellular Telephone Industry Association (CTIA) paid big bucks for a research program that would give them a clean bill of health; much to their surprise the information came back just the opposite. Here’s where I wish I could have simply cut and pasted from the original article.

“A nearly 300 percent increase in the incidence of genetic damage when human blood cells were exposed to radiation in the cellular frequency band.

A significant increase in cell phone user’s risk of brain tumors at the brain’s outer edge, on which ever side the cell phone was held most often.

A 60 percent greater chance of acoustic neuromas, a tumor affecting the nerve that controls hearing, among people who had used cell phones for six years or more…”

There’s more; children should NEVER use a cellular device except in a real emergency because they are more vulnerable to damaging microwave bursts emitted by such devices. Their skulls are thinner ( hard to believe, I know ) and their still developing brains and nervous systems allow penetration all the way to the mid-brain, where tumors are more deadly.

I only put in a small portion of the warnings regarding damage to humans who use cell phones, warnings the CTIA are aware of, and yet how many of us have considered this aspect of our daily routines as life threatening? If you think the tobacco industry fought to keep their “customers” in the dark regarding the dangers of their product, how much is being kept from the public, either through intentional silence or straight out cover up now that we live in an age of cell phones and WIFI connections? GO READ THE ORIGINAL ARTICLE!

Half a Sermon on Obedience

I read on the Fox news site about a pair of UK church leaders getting into hot water for preaching “Wives, submit to your husbands”. I didn’t get to hear the sermon and what was reported may have been only half the sermon, the other half being that the husbands would have been following the example of our Lord to such an extent that both husband and wife are living their lives in obedience to the commandments.

There was a line thrown in from one angry woman, “How can they talk that way in the 21st century?”

The answer to that is fairly straight forward, God’s expectations for His children does not vary according to the times. The commandments have not changed and those who claim to be above living in obedience to God’s laws might take a few moments to consider the path they’ve chosen.

There was a link provided to the original article by David Wilkes , which attempted to explain that the word “submit” had been misinterpreted, as if women were not equal. I suggest you read the two linked articles; not that it will diminish the rush to opinion.

I wonder if this story would have gotten any press had the sermon led off with the idea, “Husbands, treat your wives in accordance with their being Heavenly Father’s daughters”; no I don’t think that would have merited any space in the paper. What would society do without a little more contention?

By the way, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. There’s still time to treat your “better half” with a symbol of affection; flowers, a box of chocolates, a simple card or some other expression of your desire to honor your relationship. The old time card is one of many shown in The Stock Solution’s Vintage Valentine Art Collection .

Appreciating Snow

With a title like that I’m guessing there will be an accumulation of hate mail from the Mid-Atlantic states as another wave of snow heads their way on the coat tails of last week’s horrific blizzard. Fox news website had a mild distraction this morning, Wilson Bentley’s Pioneering Snowflake Photography , a slide show of various images taken prior to Bentley’s death in 1931.

I did a little more looking and found a site dedicated to Bentley’s work along with a quote which set the tone for his efforts.

"Under the microscope, I found that snowflakes were miracles of beauty; and it seemed a shame that this beauty should not be seen and appreciated by others. Every crystal was a masterpiece of design and no one design was ever repeated., When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, without leaving any record behind."

I’ve watched shows on television explaining the scientific reasons for the formation of snow and the temperatures which are associated with the various shapes. I’m sure there are plenty of other sites; but for a fairly simple explanation the one from the Lansing State Journal, dated October 8, 1997, covered my limited need to know.

“The shape that a snow crystal will take is dependent upon the temperature at which it was formed. The temperature in the highest clouds is around -30°F and they are made up exclusively of ice crystal columns. The other three shapes are formed in a narrow temperature range. When the temperature in the clouds is 3° to 10°F the star shaped crystals form. From 10°-18°F the plates form, and from 18°-23°F columns form. From 23°-27°F needles form and from 27°-32°F the plates reappear. As the snow crystals grow they become heavier and fall towards Earth. If they spin like tops as they fall then they may be perfectly symmetrical when they hit the Earth. But if they fall in a sideways fashion then they end up lopsided. Falling snow crystals clump together forming snowflakes. Each snowflake is made up of from 2 to about 200 separate crystals.”

I did save a couple of Bentley’s snowflake pictures, artwork of intricate design which fell in front of the camera lens, a moment in time saved for folks to appreciate or to ignore; your call. Please enjoy the beauty and consider, if you will, its importance in the overall scheme of things.

The idea occurred to me, at some point the question of Intelligent Design could surface as a tangent to my topic, appreciating snow. Some might bring up the idea that God, or Deity by any other name, is responsible for every aspect of Creation. Should that thought be considered, even if for the briefest of moments while you enjoy the beauty of a single snow flake then my purpose for posting today’s article has served its purpose.

Hoyle’s Billionaire Club

I’m still under the weather and getting over the “creeping crud”; one more day of the “Z” pack antibiotics for what the doctor called bronchitis. I did manage to get out and produce some locksmith work; maybe not the smartest thing to do since temperatures never got above 38 degrees today. I’d put this one fellow off for two days and he needed his truck and I needed a little cash flow.

I got home and jumped straight into bed with one of those microwave warm up things on my chest. When I woke up the house was empty; Lucy’s gone to a friend’s missionary farewell social. I promised him I’d stay away, doing my part not to get everyone sick.

I decided to push my limits on the Hoyle gambling game that’s on my laptop. I’d had my totals soar to unbelievable levels one time a few years back , only to watch that amount disappear in the blink of an eye; but I wanted to see what happens if you push the bar to the Billion dollar mark.

When you have over 800 million dollars to play with, strange as it may sound, gambling isn’t as much fun. Now I know how congress and Obama feel when they piss away a measly 100 million dollars of tax payer’s money; “Hey, it’s only a measly 100 million dollars and there’s plenty more where that came from.”

I was making starting bets of 10 million dollars, triple that on a loss until the cards came back right. I hit the billion mark rather quickly only to find that there was no hoopla, no bells and whistles, no parade of semi clothed dance hall girls, just a plaque with my name showing the accomplishment; oh yea, then the game instantly zeroed out the account and I got to start all over.

I’m going into the kitchen now for another bowl of Lucy’s home made chili. Maybe the front door will have a knock on it, the creators of the Hoyle gambling game will have one of their people come by and recruit me into the Star League where we’ll fight Zur and the Kodan armada or does that only work if you beat the Last Star Fighter game?

Trading Places

Several years back Dan Aykroyd was in the movie Trading Places. He was as down on his luck as he could fall, dressed in a filthy dirty Santa outfit stumbling around in the rain, when a dog lifted his leg to end a near perfect failure of a day. He’s sick to the point of death and looks every bit the part of deranged.

I’m not felling so good today, for that matter it’s been a rough week trying to cough up one of my lungs and having to settle for some ugly dark green stuff. I sent an email off a while ago letting the folks at the temple know I’d be unavailable for service tomorrow; Lucy said I’m to see a doctor so I must be grossing her out as well.

Yesterday I took my truck in for an oil change and found the battery needed replacement as well. There was a leaking of fluid from the power steering unit so today that was replaced; they actually got it fixed, the second time I took it back to them, a puddle of red fluid to clean up from my driveway. Unlike Dan Aykroyd’s character, if that dog came near enough to lift a leg I’d hark up and spit a huge green chest clearing, throat coated wad squarely on its head and watch him die of suffocation right there on the street.

Scope This!

MK posted an article, A falling camel attracts many knives , about the Trijicon rifle scopes being used by the military and the encrypted biblical reference stamped on the side of it. I read the original news story last week and, in my own mind, classified it as a “non-story”, something to fill a page when nothing else was found that day. Gracious, was I mistaken; turns out a wild fire followed; threats to have the scope removed from service and loss of government contracts.

I tried three times to leave my comment but for what ever reason the cyber space hex was upon me and nothing ever landed where it was supposed to. A fellow named Bob, who writes a blog titled, Spurious Missives , didn’t like the use of a New Testament verse and would have preferred something from the Old Testament. I figure, what’s the difference, the same God inspired all the Christian scriptures.

The idea came to mind; find a better scripture, one that hits the nail perfectly on the head and have that stamped on the side of the rifle scopes instead. I came up with one from the Book of Mormon, continuing with the idea that the same God inspired all our scriptures, Alma 46:13:

“And he (Captain Moroni) fastened on his head-plate, and his breastplate, and his shields, and girded on his armor about his loins; and he took the pole, which had on the end thereof his rent coat, (and he called it the title of liberty) and he bowed himself to the earth, and he prayed mightily unto his God for the blessings of liberty to rest upon his brethren, so long as there should a band of Christians remain to possess the land”

Those who find fault with the fight for liberty and the blessings which come from God have no business running our nation much less our armed forces. Throw the rascals out!

With Heavy Heart…

One of our neighbors knocked on the door a while ago and let us know about a young cat which she’d seen that might have been one of our Hobo Kitties, on the side of the street. I walked the short distance and recognized our Princess would no longer brighten our days.

I remarked to Lucy how it wasn’t up us to decide, that perhaps Princess was sent to us, a chance for her to learn about human love, what it’s like to live inside with them, enjoy their company and attach, ever so briefly, to their heart strings. If such was the case, Princess accomplished that because my heart is heavy with her loss.

Tony Bennett Surprise

Lucy brought home a neat surprise yesterday while shopping the cheap table at Walgreens, a Tony Bennett DVD/CD combo pack; under five dollars for both. I guess they were trying to reduce inventory on slow moving items; we got a steal of a deal price wise.

The DVD is set up in biography format, a musical explanation of how his talent developed and eventually led to international recognition. There are some great snippets of some awesome music along with narration to set the tone; all in perfect digital sound.

I’ve just transferred the CD onto my iTune register and will make it portable the next time the iPod is updated. The Shadow of Your Smile just played while writting, a duet with some French singer, Juanes. The two of them alternate between English and French as they apply their talents; very nice.

The inside jacket on the CD contains a mosaic rendering of the singer; click on the image to bring it to full size and then use your photograph viewer to get ever closer, observing each individual image within the structure. I had to crop it; wouldn’t fit within the confines of my scanner’s platen.

A Purrrrfect Night’s Sleep

Some of you are familiar with the Hobo Kitties who took up residence in our garage and the on going tales, here and here , of character development in each of them. So far only one of them, the Princess , has felt comfortable enough to enter our house without quickly scurrying back to safety outside.

This past week or so Princess has decided to stay inside, at least for a portion of the day or night; last week’s cold spell had nothing to do with her decision, enjoying the adventure at every turn. The other morning I woke up with Princess snuggled up to my hand as she worked to gain attention; something not missed by our Senior Kitty, Bubba.

This morning while still dark and at least an hour until the time we arise and get moving, we noticed the massage function on our Sleep Number Bed (not a paid advertisement) had been activated. The Princess had jumped from the bed onto the night stand on Lucy’s side and landed on the remote control unit. The bed began to “purr”, or so it seemed, as Princess came back and stood on top of Lucy, enjoying the moment and joining in the chorus of purring. There’s an automatic shut off after twenty minutes; but Princess wasn’t sure how she’d triggered the event and was content to cuddle until we got up.

Many years ago, before we had kids, on a driving trip to see my folks in Florida we stopped in Tallahassee for the night. That’s a lot of miles for the first leg of a two day trip and mostly we just wanted to crash and get a good nights sleep.

They had one of those “jiggle bed” things; place a quarter in the slot and the bed vibrates for 15 minutes and hopefully by then you’re asleep. Well, we dropped a quarter in the box and lay down; but instead of the bed sending soothing waves of massage to rejuvenate our road weary bodies we could hear the mechanism had come loose from its anchored position, bouncing noisily within the confines of the mattress.

Both of us started to giggle, the suggestive sounds; I’ll leave that to your imagination. We noticed, due to the lack of insulation in the walls of the motel, the folks in the next room had observed the more than active sounds emanating from our room, a giggle here and there.

The fifteen minute timer finally shut the mechanism off and it was time for some shut eye; instead I dropped another quarter in the box, Lucy looked at me with a disapproving eye. Immediately we heard the folks in the next room gasp and wonder how much energy we might have to generate so much activity.

The morning came and we continued our trip on down to my folk’s house. It’s been so long ago; can’t remember if we actually waved to the folks in the adjacent room or whether we simple contemplated the chance meeting. It made for a fun recollection, perrrhaps not a purrrfect night’s sleep; but enough to get me to smile.

Admitting Hearsay Evidence Opens a Can of Worms

There’s a court case developing in Illinois which bears scrutiny as a judge contemplates the admissibility of hearsay evidence in the trial of Drew Peterson. I’m sure the story will be covered on most of the new services; but the one I’ll refer to came from the Fox website, Victim to Speak ‘From the Grave’ in Peterson Case.

“The hearing is expected to provide the first detailed look at evidence prosecutors contend ties Peterson to Savio's death. It stems from a state law that allows a judge to admit hearsay evidence -- testimony from witnesses who recount what they heard from others -- in first-degree murder cases if prosecutors can prove a defendant killed a witness to prevent him or her from testifying.”

“The Illinois Legislature passed the law after authorities named Peterson a suspect in the 2007 disappearance of his fourth wife, Stacy, then exhumed the body of Savio, his third wife, and reopened the investigation into her 2004 death. Though the bill's sponsors were careful never to link the law publicly to Peterson, it has been referred to as "Drew's Law," and his attorneys have long suggested it was passed to put Peterson behind bars.”

Does anyone, other than an old retired cop, see a problem with skirting evidentiary principles in order to obtain a conviction?  In another reality, one of the reasons for not using hearsay evidence is to protect the judiciary process which gives defendants the opportunity to cross examine witnesses directly in the courtroom. The very nature of hearsay evidence precludes open rebuttal of damaging evidence which, once a jury hears and contemplates, can never be discounted as part of the decision making task in determining guilt or innocence based on the standard ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’.

Regardless of the outcome of the Drew Peterson trial, if hearsay evidence is given the light of day in open court, the appeals process will, out of necessity, end up in the Supreme Court. The right to a fair and impartial trial hangs in the balance for each and every individual American citizen. It would be better for a guilty man to be set free than to destroy the integrity of our judicial foundations through the enlistment of improper evidence. ( Somebody needs to explain the term “slippery slope” in the comment section or I’ll be disappointed)

Do Deceased Have Right to Vote?

One of the issues to challenge America as we continue into a degraded version of the Great Experiment would have to be the maintenance of the electoral process. Most of us have heard the famous Stalin quote, “It’s not the people who vote that count. It’s the people who count the votes.”

I should add, “Why is it that dead people always vote for Democrats?”, a feature not limited to Chicago style politics. All you’d have to do is check the internet for a history of voter records to find that Democrat voters truly are eternal.

This stands juxtaposed to George Washington’s thought process, “Religion and morality are the essential pillars of civil society.”

If we are to survive as a nation, at least that nation envisioned by our founders, we must rely on the integrity of all the individuals who make up this society; not too reassuring when I contemplate the likes of ACORN and some of the activities I’ve observed in my short life time.


Robert Romano wrote an article for the Washington News Alert, We see dead people, 116,483 registered voters in Massachusetts are dead , “As reported by CNS News, “In Massachusetts, 116,483 registered voters are dead, 3.38 percent of the state’s total of registered voters. Another 538,567, or 15.6 percent, had moved to an area outside of where they are registered to vote.”


He concludes with a rather gloomy reality check:


“According to Americans for Limited Government President Bill Wilson, “The implication of dead people showing up at the polls means that it’s no longer sufficient to win an election with a simple majority. Now, candidates need a 4 or 5 point swing just to pad against potential fraud.”


“And that undermines our free form of government at its very core,” Wilson concluded.”


I mentioned at the start, the Great Experiment is based on the assumption that the society is morally capable of sustaining itself. I fear this is no longer such a society, at least those who have shown the capacity to alter elections behind closed doors through the use of corruption in order to predetermine elections.


One way to help get things back in order would be for each individual to pray for assistance from God, the Creator of our nation. “We shall overcome”, powerful words spoken by Martin Luther King as he addressed his dream for America come to mind; these words are based in religion, not politics.


Enslavement comes in many forms, bondage to debt, bondage as we permit elected officials to usurp God given rights in favor of temporary security and there is tampering with the ballot box. Let us be vigilant while maintaining faith in our most basic expression of freedom.

This One’s for Bonnie

David over at Third World County had this short video up this morning and the first person I thought of was my daughter, the engineering major at Texas A&M. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to enjoy it either.

Did I Miss the State of the Union Address?

Lucy tossed the front section of yesterday’s newspaper on the coffee table awhile ago and in a quick glance the main headline grabbed my attention. I couldn’t see the smaller print or the photograph accompanying the headline, only the huge print, “A NATION IN RUINS, ITS PEOPLE IN MISERY”. The thought occurred to me, “Oh my goodness, I missed the State of the Union Address”; but the article was about the earthquake in Haiti.


Come next election, please remember, VOTE NO INCUMBENT. Throw the rascals out and maybe, just maybe the next crop of representatives will follow the constitution, listen to the voice of the responsible folks ( the ones who pay taxes, not the other ones), read legislation prior to voting, spend only what is absolutely necessary and remember that the purpose of going to Washington is to serve, not become rich and powerful.

Mr. Peabody and Boy Fraser

Apparently this is Way Back Week on Facebook. I posted a picture of yours truly the day before entering the Houston Police Academy, having just shaved of the mustache and slicked back my hair; frightening to see a stranger looking back in the mirror.

There was a request for a picture showing that same youthful and vibrant character with mustache; but I’ll go one further, half on and half off with a silly grin.

I didn’t have a picture of Mr. Peabody in my files and had to grab one from the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon show. Looking a bit further back into the Way Back Machine’s archives I found a picture of yours truly on Christmas Day, 1954, wearing a cowboy outfit similar to those worn on the old black and white television series, The Cisco Kid.

Heck with Haloscan

You may have noticed the comment section changed from working to not working and then back to working. Haloscan, the folks who had been servicing the comment section and trackback functions for my blog recently notified me, via email, that their service was being “upgraded” to a “pay fer” service and that unless I sent them some money I would lose all the comments previously entered. My Scottish ancestry prevented sending a check and so I lost the use and historical bounty of several years of comments; oh well.


Now I have the old Blogspot version to accept comments; but in so doing I have unintentionally reformatted the way my blog looks. It may be due to only one article entry; then again it might not. I will eliminate the one entry, “But we don’t own a bird bath”, see what happens and then attempt to re-post that article. Cross your fingers, toss a strangled chicken over the fence and say something in Latin; here goes.

I just noticed that the one article which I had hoped would solve the format issue is NOT the location of the template problem.  I will have to figure out a better solution.

Chasing Bad Guys

MK over at Down Under On the Right Side had an article, Between the Public and the Scum , in which the topic of police chases was brought up. I threw in my 2 cents worth down in the comment section and moved on.

I had plenty of chases during my time as an officer in the Houston Police Department, each time the weight of responsibility rested squarely on my shoulders. When I was a young cop it was thrilling, one of those moments you looked forward to, a chance to have something really good to talk about with your fellow officers long after the chase was done.

Running Hot, lights and siren, the sound of tires squealing as they reached the limits of contact with the pavement, trying to drive and call the chase into the mike, keeping the bad guy’s activities focused just in case they want to go for guns; gosh but that was fun.

(Have to take a break, a locksmith job came in and priorities are important to remember.)

(It was a very nice break, actually did almost two days worth of business; more to follow)

At one time I was a training officer, one on one with probationary police officers on night shift. We were chasing a suspect in a stolen car north on Bingle as we approached Hammerly. It was my turn in the driver’s seat and the young officer was as close to petrified as I’ve seen, the bumper of our police car so close to the suspect’s car as to make it difficult to tell where one started and the other ended.

The suspect made a quick left and without missing a beat I stayed on his bumper; you could have kept a thin notebook suspended in mid air between the two cars during the entire chase. The suspect gave up at that time; he was afraid I was trying to push him off the road the way he was shaking once we got him out of the car and cuffed. It takes a certain mental toughness to work the streets; most civilized folks wouldn’t consider getting in a chase with all the risks, sure is satisfying catching the bad guys though.

The very last chase I was a part of started off as a burglary alarm call around 3am a couple of years prior to my retirement. When I arrived I saw the suspect vehicle tearing out of the parking lot of a tire and wheel warehouse. I got in behind the pick up truck and quickly found it to be reported stolen. Two suspects were in the back of the truck tossing large cardboard boxes containing chrome rims in my direction hoping to score a hit.

Speeds were within reason if we’d been up on a freeway; but we were cutting through the back side of a warehouse area and into a residential area. Stop signs and red lights meant nothing to these fools as I put out the chase and kept a safe distance behind the continued barrage of stolen rims being tossed. The suspect’s vehicle was headed toward a major intersection at about 75mph, one that would have traffic even at three in the morning.

At that time I notified the dispatcher that I was breaking off the chase for reasons of safety. I watched as they busted through the red light and narrowly missed taking out a vehicle that had no idea what was going on. I got a kick out of looking at the occupants of the stolen truck as they observed me back off to about a quarter of a mile. Perhaps they thought I was out of gas or had broken down; but for what ever reason, they were watching me more than the road as they smacked into a huge tree. They all took off on foot into the darkness leaving the stolen truck, what remained of their “booty” and as far as I know were never caught.

You want to know the real reason I backed off; about a week earlier there had been a letter come down from the chief’s office. The directive clearly explained that any and all damages incurred as a result of a police chase would be the responsibility of the officer(s), that any legal action would be directed at the officer(s) and because of this policy the City of Houston and the Houston Police Department would be able to sever any responsibility for a “dangerous chase”. Okay, now tell me the difference between a plain run of the mill chase and a dangerous chase; the answer, one in which there is litigation because of property damage, injury or loss of life.

I had figured it out, it had only taken nearly 20 years; I really wasn’t a member of the Houston Police Department. I was in fact a lone agent of the T. F. Stern Police Unit, wearing a borrowed uniform bearing a striking resemblance to one worn by the Houston Police Department. I knew that if anything “ugly” were to happen that the City and their legal staff had written themselves out of the equation; I was on my own in that regard.

Each time that stolen vehicle busted through a stop sign I was remembering the chief’s notice. Instead of seeing a vehicle with fleeing suspects I pictured a jury wondering how much I’d have to come up with to pay for damages. When I saw them headed for a major intersection at break neck speed I made sure to cut the string which tied me to their foolishness, the string which would be “officially severed” and recorded on the permanent recorded tapes there at the dispatcher’s office. I was actually laughing when the suspect vehicle cracked up; I’d gotten very lucky.

I could go on and on, like the Billy Crystal line, “Don’t get me started”; but that’s all for now. This spring will mark 18 years of retirement, not chasing bad guys in the middle of the night; Five Frank Twenty Six Oh Dee.

( Photo is not related to a car chase; just the only one I could find of yours truly in a patrol car on night shift. The suspect sitting in back had been burglarizing Rico’s Chicken and was caught inside; no chase, not even on foot.)

Lastly, you may have noticed an “issue” with the comment section. For several years I’d been using Haloscan for comments and trackbacks. I got an email from the Haloscan folks explaining how there would no longer be any free services, that to continue I’d need to “upgrade”, at a price, or all comments would be lost. My temporary solution will be to have you go to Facebook, where I cross post articles; leave your comments there until I figure out how to get Blogspot’s comment format working again. The only other way would be for you to leave your comments in the form of email which I could then add as an “edit” function to the bottom of each article for all to see.

How Cold Did You Say It Was?

Thanks and a tip of the hat to Patricia Carr for posting this on her Facebook page.

It got down to 19 degrees last night; had to chop a hole in the Hobo Kittie’s water bowl, had about an inch and a half thick covering of ice. In less than an hour it was frozen over again.