Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

The Country of Jesus

Last night I came home from a very long hard grueling day. No commas in there. Run it together and get tired so you know how I felt.

As I entered the house, I was bombarded by a herd of dogs and one teenager.

"Mom, let's practice jujitsu!"


"Ok. Let me change my clothes."

A few minutes later the kid and I were practicing our ninja skills. She was mostly practicing and I was forced to be the ninja bad guy. For those of you who don't know, the ninja bad guy gets beat up all the time and punished by the seemingly victim student.

Yeah. It was a gas.

"Mom, isn't this great? I am getting faster."

"You need to go half the force, Missy. Otherwise I am going to go hit for hit."

[giggles from the princess]

Photo credit: Pinterest

"Mom, I didn't want to hurt you before, but now that your neck feels better I am going full on ninja."

"Yeah. And if you do that, your mom is going to end up at square one. I am not released for full on ninja yet. When it happens, you will get papers. Besides, Eric told you not to do that and if he taught you these skills, you needed to be careful and wise."

"Yeah, Mom. He told me not to use them at school. He said nothing about using them at home or on my mom."

"Eric and I are going to have a coming to Jesus meeting."

"Mom, you can't mix ninja and Jesus. They are from two different countries."


Monday, February 23, 2015

Oscar The Grouch

A night of the Oscars. As a kid and young adult, I used to enjoy watching them. The glamour and the great films would leave me awestruck. Believe it or not, I was really into fashion watching in college and enjoyed in anticipation of the new fashions striking the red carpet and Hollywood gossip which accompanied it. I got over it.

Now, the Oscars and other awards shows strike me as a joke. Even though I will hail the many great actors and actresses, musicians, and the like- they have lost their class. The acceptance speeches are rants or an opportunity to make a political statement which takes away from honoring the motion picture industry. If this is truly the free platform Hollywood wishes to embrace, they could go buy themselves a cause. I will not partake in the shenanigans. Thank you, God, you put The Walking Dead and Downton Abbey right smack at the same prime time.

Boo hiss to the platformers, which is my new coin phrase going out to the Hollywood actors and actresses who want to use family time and awards for their agenda. Hooray for The Walking Dead. What plot twist can we have now? Will Judith grow up?

My morning madness started with dogs and toy carnage, hot coffee, and news. It was all wonderful except the death of yet another duct taped dog toy and the news. The news I find is less informative a the days go on. Is it all sensational spin and propaganda garbage? I'm beginning to enjoy the b.s. segments of food ideas for families.

And what about ISIS claiming to target Mall Of America? Pshaw. DO NOT MESS WITH SHOPPING WOMEN! Gah. Do they announce it, to set up a decoy? Warn the masses to effect commerce? Whatever. I am disgusted we have not come down on them with wrath. That is all. Truly disappointed, I am. I especially like the theory of giving them jobs to cure their violence. Wow. Brilliance in the making that one idea is.

Photo Credit: Facebook Friend JL
In non-terrorist news...Bug and I have vows for Lent...I am going to work on my f bombs and being a better mother with more loves and she vowed to be nice to me and do her chores without whining and to cool the tantrums. You see where this is headed. If you do it for 40 days, it becomes habit, right? The first day...I muttered under my breath.."eff that"...when I was watching a news piece of our lack of action on terrorism. I didn't think it counted because I didn't actually use the words. Bug said I needed to find a better substitute like "popcorn" or "nuts" or "rats." Bug said, "Mom, you have already ruined 'Lint' in one day."

Photo credit: the containerstore.com

Needless to say, part of being a good mother is to teach better church practices pertaining to an important sacrifice and lead by example. We need some Lent lessons. I also need to lint roll my pants. 

Physical therapy showed great strides in my neck mobility. I actually feel like a new human being. My therapist was quite pleased with the progress. After therapy is all over, I have been instructed to continue deep tissue massages and my at home exercises along with weight lifting and strength training. I start the sessions of proper lifting and strength training on Wednesday. I'm kind of excited about this. I must prepare to wear the proper pants for bending and no heels. 

Friday, February 20, 2015

Appointments Only No Walkens

If Murphy's escapades with my eucalyptus lotion were not enough last night....it got worse. This morning at 4:30, yes-that is AM EST, proved to be like any other. The dogs needed to pee, poop, and eat. Check. Check. I had my morning two cups of rocket fuel. Usually I have a whole pot, but I am saving those for Saturday and Sunday. Weekdays I am down to two a day. WOW! That is an accomplishment.

After downing my news and coffee, I trotted upstairs to take a shower. When I got out of the shower, Murphy jumped in and jumped out and sat there wagging his tail. He seemed to be in a good mood and quite active. He is not a morning person. Dragging him out of bed is like taking on a sloth. So, needless to say, this was odd. It usually takes him an hour to get busy.

Once I donned my towels (yes, I am a girl-one for the hair and one for the bod), I went downstairs. Murphy was on high speed, low drag and slid down them on his belly. Strange. He usually doesn't do the belly slides until evening. He was full of piss and vinegar.


Photo credit: Pinterest

He plopped down on his dog bed and he was surrounded by glue sticks and packaging. While I stared at him in disbelief, he grabbed a glue stick and ate it. I screamed, dropped the towels and wrestled with him while naked. It's a good thing the blinds were down or the neighbors would have had a horror show. He ate most of one stick of glue before I could get it out of his mouth. I have no idea how many he consumed before I caught him.

As I picked up the remaining glue sticks which were strewn all over the house, I was cursing *#&$)#*&$)@($ under my breath that the next butt explosion was going to be Bug's job. Well, that was a fantasy I was having, anyway. And who could get really mad at this face after all that?
Murphy aka Meatball aka Chaos

I fondly call him Meatball because he is solidly stocky and packed in a small punch. I think I might change it to Chaos.
Photo credit: Pinterest

I have never had a dog eat glue sticks. I hope it does not cause any major problems or glue his butthole shut.

In other non-related news, I am feeling like a new person this week because of the deep tissue massages and neck traction. It is amazing what a body can do when it feels good. It also contributed to my attitude. I didn't realize how much I had restricted myself to and how much I had slowed down because of the pain. Once you get used to constant pain, you forget what it was like to feel good and be active.

Down 6 pounds this week and continuing to drive the fat bus out of town. I will restart marathon training again in two weeks at a slow pace, Crossfit (modified) at the end of March, and continuing self-defense with USA Combat Jui-Jitsu with Bug until April. Also starting back up with Piloxing next week during two lunches. Other times I am walking which blows. I hate walking in circles. I LOATHE IT. I guess I should be grateful I can walk. When I am 100, (haha) I will be glad if I can still walk on my own. My friend Treva is amazing at 100 and still lives on her own.

My therapist suggested adding in some weight lifting IF I do it the right way, so he is going to work with me on that next week.

Since I had the last morning episode of fake drunkenness, I have not taken any more medications. I got a wrinkled frown from my therapist even though he later said I had to do what works for me and he certainly wasn't going to push drugs. He suggested I speak to the doctor about something else or ask if it was OK to quit them all together. Any excuse to talk to the hot doc, right? When the word "deep tissue massage" came out...I was kinda happy, kinda not.

Photo credit: Pinterest
Deep tissue massages are not fun if you have never had them. The word "massage" is just to fool you into thinking they are the bomb diggety and relaxing. They make me uptight. Picture a Sumo wrestler on your back plunging a crow bar into your weak spots. They hurt, they are miserable, but after a couple days they work miracles and angels sing, the light goes on, and you walk with Jesus. The knot on my left shoulder was about the size of a golf ball and hard pulsating demons. The ones in my neck were hard and when he pushed on them, they actually gagged me so he had to work them out. He could feel the muscles "spasming" as he worked them. Creepy, huh? It's like they are live tissue or something. Blah. I know, I know. I'm alive! I'm alive! However, I think aliens are in there. One thing doesn't look or work like the others.

The right shoulder blade has one as well which needs more work. I thought I was a two-fer, but the therapist said I might have to have 5 or 6 of these types of massages. He was pleased with the progress so far. The traps are much more relaxed, but very tight, still to a point where they don't function with mobility. I'm Frankenstein's daughter.
Photo credit: Pinterest-"MURPHY the koala"

Mr. Therapist said I was a mess and he could tell I had over worked my upper body and lifted improperly over time. Man, I am sure regretting the days I thought I was made of steel. At least, I believe I will avoid surgery for this time and be able to get back into an active lifestyle. I am so excited about being able to move right now. Spirit fingers!

So..who is with me on this challenge?

Yeah. It's silent. Anyone? Anyone?

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Poop Water Is The NEWater

The Anthem hack continues to plague work and has struck some colleagues. While we are all concentrating on saving our own asses, the university work is at a standstill because all of us are making phone calls. We are on a mission to jam up the Indiana government lines and the federal tax line.

Meanwhile on hold, I tried this sample of Norwegian water contained in this fancy dancy bottle. It really is imported from Norway and made of glass, so I can't imagine what that costs for shipping. In case your curiosity was running away with you, it tastes the same as American water. I do, however, prefer to drink water out of glass rather than plastic or cardboard, but the price of one of these babies retails here for $2.25. I can buy a whole case of bottled water for that and it even includes Corox so I am sure to be free of germs. What are you getting from Norwegian spring water? 

1) A pretty reusable glass container
2)Calcium, Magnesium, Choride, Potassium, Total Dissolved Solids
3)Zero calories

Photo credit: worldmarket.com

So first thing that fascinates me is they put Clorox in their water, too. The second thing is "total dissolved solids". So is Norway recycling their waste water and disguising it as posh spring water? Did I just drink poop? The big boss said it is probably just minerals. However, he doesn't really know, so I was not convinced. 

I just had to down some American water containing Clorox to cleanse my palate because it did not have any poop on the label. This brought about an office conversation on poop water and how Singapore has quite a racket in the works on poop water and Bill Gates recently was caught on camera drinking it (NEWater). 

While on the subject of poop water, my other boss came out and talked about the next step in her identity theft problem and informed us her taxes are going to take a year to resolve. My boss's tax returns were filed and an ungodly amount of money sent to some scammer and now she can't file her taxes. Beat me. I hope I don't have that same problem. My Twitter did get hacked and I blamed it on Anthem, Kim Jung-Un, and the police because everyone else can. 

I filed a credit freeze and according to the IRS, you can do nothing about your child's information until they are 18. What does that mean? It means they ASSUME no one is going to file anything using their information OR some super secret government conspiracy is going on and we won't know until she is 18.

This word "breach" is too soft. This is an epic violation of the body, mind, and soul. It is a soul sucking moment.

In the meantime, I got my free credit report thanks to Anthem. I thought it was great to learn my first husband was behind thousands of dollars in his truck loan on several occasions in 2014 which is driven by him but conveniently still has my name on it because we were married. Yet, he is building a new addition on the house, frequently travels, and parties all the time. We both have tried to get my name off the loan with divorce decrees and affidavits, but the bank says no. He tried to refinance but with his ARREARS (believe me right now he is a BIG rear end) he can't get a loan. Now I am affected. I never made a late payment on the loans I had to pay in both our names and they are all paid off. I didn't want to give him negative credit. I really don't know what to say except scream. 

Strong work, hubs.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Guns Should Not have A Strap On

The Harry Potter House is alive and well with lots of activity. It's a happy home. My homes have always been that way because I was raised well. Puppies are happy. Bug is happy. The Momster Fargo is happy. Yay! The Father even agreed to help Bug with some fancy shoes for her dress. He is on a roll. Maybe he will get that purity ring I have been telling him is important to Bug. If not, I will sell my blood to the Vampire Clinic to get it for her. It's been months now and no action. It makes me sad because it is so important to her. I have been researching and the top price is $149.00 all the way down to about $39.00 for sterling silver. He sent me a $5.00 ring which wasn't horrible, but I know it would turn her finger black because it was some metal alloy. I was like really? Your child isn't worth silver or gold? He sent 5 more examples which were all $5.00-$14.00. Dude, this is a lock on the kid's vagina. Put a hardy one on it. I think she deserves at least sterling silver and maybe not the top price, but at least $40.00. The most expensive ones look like these:
One example by Kay Jewelers I like

Another option by Reeds.com
I was very proud of her when she approached me about it and she was very detailed in her explanation why and how important it was to her. It was all grown up and I had to sit down and listen. Why? Because she told me to and it was that pertinent to her. I also found it refreshing that many kids in her school are doing this and maybe it will take over baby sex and drugs some day. Hey, if it takes a piece of bling for a child to proudly display their body pride...then I am all for that. Beast mode activated. I will have to keep working on The Father. I think it should be a father thing which is nicely presented to his daugther. However, if he fails, I will be the father again. How long do I wait? It's been 7 months.

In other non-related news...

Physical therapy put me under this week. Apparently deep tissue massages are necessary, but I felt like Obama's puppet. I looked like this:
Kikkerland.com Robot diffuser. I need one. It's the bomb diggety.

It was hard to move and very painful. I have constant headaches and my jaw pops. Many times I have woke up unable to move or I have slept wrong because the drugs knocked me out like a rag doll. Tuesday...I slept through my alarm, sent a serial killer drugged up message to my office manager, and hustled to work. She played the message for me. I was like, "Huh. It was clear in my mind." She thought I had been hungover and could not understand anything. All I got out of it was "arm" and I think at that point I was telling her I slept through my alarm. Strange. 

Monday's pain bled into Tuesday's pain and then I had all kinds of new issues. I think the man just moved all the toxins and knots around to a different place. During the therapy, I had many muscles spasms that he felt fascinating and it was a little weird. On my left shoulder, he found a huge lump and pushing on it sent me through the roof. I peed a little. He said it was the "giantist" knot he had dealt with in a long time. After he jumped on my back and performed some ninja magic, it hurt like a mother. 

"Does that feel better?"

"I'm supposed to feel?"

Two days later and I still feel like robo ex-cop. Maybe I need a hot tub treatment...

Kikkerland.com tea diffuser
I mean seriously...why haven't I discovered this tea diffuser before today? It is the cutest thing ever. I think I need this. Anyway, I get easily distracted. Squirrel!

I manage. It's all I do. In a week I will discover why my vision has declined so fast. Perhaps it is lack of sex. Maybe that's it. I should go get some batteries so I can see better. I am prepared for the answer may it be nothing found to I have two days to live. What would you do with two days? 

I definitely would not invest in one of these
Photo credit: cnn.com

Let me tell you the ways this is bad. Only some...because I could go on, but it would be the biggest wall of text...
1) It's dumb. 
2)Your firearm should not be dedicated to either or and no officer has time. Lethal only. Duh.
3)It's dumb.
4)If you bring out the firearm, it's a lethal situation. It's not pretend death. Duh.
5)Less lethal is dedicated in a dedicated shotgun, Taser, or pepper spray. An officer should not delay all kinds of confusion by which tool comes out when  in a lethal situation. It-THE FIREARM- is only ONE tool. That's it. The banger type of gun with real bullets. The firearm comes out in lethal situations only. The other stuff comes out in less lethal situations. The bad guy does NOT get pretend death with the first tap and real death with the second shot or any more thereafter. That's kind of cruel, right? Or at least dangerous for the cop.
6)Really? Cops have time for that crap? Lethal becomes muscle memory and brain recognition of threat. And you add in..."Dude, hold on, let me put a strap on penis on my gun and tell you the first shot isn't real if you change your mind, you can still live. If not, watch out for the second shot, it will kill you. And then I can say...PSYCH!"
7)It's dumb.
8)It was supposedly designed by a retired cop who was tired of all the people getting killed by cops? WTF. That guy is an idiot. I would like to tell him so.
9)It's dumb. 
10)NO. This is teaching bad ideas. One second to put that on to give the bad guy a pretend death and the cop is dead in the time it took to put that stupid penis on his gun. And if I am going to put a less lethal penis on my pistol, it better be fucking huge. Not really. My gun fires real bullets.

I'm sure the public will think it is super fabulous. I'm sure they will tell Little Johnny that the first shot won't kill you if you change your mind if you get into a deadly encounter with the cops. WTF! How many whiskey-tango-foxtrots can I have in this post?

I am going to go teeter totter back to my desk now. 

Monday, February 16, 2015

My Two Husbands Rock!

Bug and I went shopping for her Sweetheart dress. Her dad came through for her and it made her very happy. She wanted to feel pretty and I believe she is beyond that. We had a nice time together. I like her to feel as beautiful on the outside and I see her on the inside. Teenager turmoil aside, I am pretty lucky to have such a great kid.

And now to top the funny merry go round of my woes...

I didn't think Valentine's Day could get any worse than my two husbands lack of pizazz on the holiday. You can go check out the story for details if you wish. If not, know they amounted to gas station fabric roses and chalk hearts. This year:

Asher (Friday, Feb. 13): Shit. I ordered you flowers but they can't be delivered until Monday.

What this amounts to is he forgot and waited until the last minute, not realizing the florists would be overbooked with work. It also tells me a person doesn't care enough to plan a nice day or special occasion for someone. Oh, and this man knew about my previous bad Valentine's Days. Maybe he just wanted to be number one.

ME: (very disappointed-lackluster surprise-and now no surprise): Oh it's OK. (Yes, I actually tried to make the guy feel better when I felt disappointed. Who even tells a girl these things? Who does it?)

Blah, blah. Short conversation.

My package reached him for Valentine's Day. Although I was poor, I sent a homemade card and a box of chocolates. Lame, I know. I think I was emulating my two husbands. Literally, it was all I could afford with medical bills coming out my ears. I would have loved to have cooked a very romantic dinner and whatnot but he was not in town.

Saturday rolls by. I get up really early in the morning like when everyone is dead and create an e-American Greetings card and send it to Asher. It was mushy gushy and sweet, but not ridiculous.

All day...I wait for my Valentine.

Yep. Not even a card. Not even a call. It would have been enough.

About 8:30 PM-ish a phone call. By now I am pretty hurt.

Asher: Happy Valentine's Day!

ME: (lacking any enthusiasm by now) Yep. Happy Valentine's Day. You know it pretty much hurt my feelings I have not heard one thing from you all day until it is over.

Asher: Well, I didn't hear anything from you either. Same here. (Snappy and clearly irritated with my honest appraisal of the day's lack of events)

ME:  Except I got up before anyone in the world to make you an e-card so it was the first thing you saw in the morning.

Asher: Yeah. It was Hallmark. Nothing from you.

Do I have to be the man or the boss or the aggressor in a relationship? Really? You wouldn't treat the lady right and man up and call her?  I mean, dude, BE A FUCKING MAN! I didn't say that, but I thought it.

That pretty much ended the conversation.

Next day I tried to be myself, but it was festering. You know what happens when a woman is scorned. It's a barrage of emotional garbage about class and how to treat a person coming out combined with the last week's issues and it is ugly. Maybe I should have stopped after a few sentences, but as he said, "you keep coming and beat me into submission."

Basically, I let out everything that sucked about his latest treatment of me, (not only Valentine's Day but other problems) and how to treat a person with decency. It fell on deaf ears.

See, this is where there is a gap with men and women. Women hold things in until it all comes to a head and let it out to be addressed and talked about. Men just look at the woman like she is crazy and pisses them off. Men never address the issues and the woman either moves on, puts up with it, or never has closure and lets time pass.

What you don't do or don't say tells a lot about a person. I think deep down inside, it had been building up for a few days because the whole situation was not going well anyway. In this garbage explosion I also told him to cancel the flowers and save himself some money.

It all went down in a ball of flames with him telling me I needed to "get some help". It felt like police work. Is it supposed to feel good to be bad? I was bad. On purpose. I needed to let it out and stop pretending it was going anywhere.

Pretty much went the way I expected it to go. Funny how human behavior works when you know you have a man with an emotional complex. I know how to push things into a place. Buttons, they call them. I didn't have any feelings of remorse which might come later after I cool down. Nor do I miss the mistreatment, lack of gentleman behavior on Valentine's Day, crazy assed home drama, or lack there of any romance. I don't miss the stupid shit that had to be on his time. It was all gone. A weight lifted off my shoulder and I felt maybe it was what I needed and the relationship didn't feel right anyway. It was really a sad ending because we started out as nice friends.

Perhaps I should have just called him a schmuck or never spoke to him again or left it in silence. Nah. It had to be epic so it would be over. Rather than a man be schmuck to me, I would prefer they just tell me it isn't right for them. Does a man really expect when he is a schmuck that he will get a pass?

I don't think I need any men in my life because I can't pick them. I didn't call him names or tell him he was a bad person, nor even think it. I just told him what things hurt me and how it affected my feelings. And...according to this one...I need help for my "feelings." I laugh. Maybe I should come with a warning label. WARNING: IF YOU TREAT HER LIKE SHIT OR IF YOU ARE A NINCUMPOOP, IT MIGHT HURT HER FEELINGS AND SHE WILL TELL YA ABOUT IT.

Monday rolled around. Guess what? No flowers. Why? Because I don't think he ever ordered them in the first place. He was probably buying time which is a moot point after the 14th. I am not even taking into consideration I scared him out of it or pissed him off so bad he did indeed cancel them. You can't cancel something that never happened. Oh, yes, he was just doing "what he was told."

Now in all fairness he wasn't always a schmuck. Only when he wanted to be one. The other times he was a nice man. There were some major issues with his home life and his personality I could not get past and it lingered in my mind for a long time. It was Clash of the Titans. I can live with someone's faults. Duh. We all have them. I have many. But if the baggage is too much drama or someone doesn't put any effort into a relationship unless it is only on their time, they need to not be in one with me. I definitely don't have time for games either. Play on with some other chick.

Now that dating is possible again, I think my two husbands are looking pretty good. I am learning much faster. Days, not weeks or months. No internet scammers. No blind dates. No college hook ups. I might try the college mixers...

No worries...I am content with being a single mother with dogs.

And how was your Valentine's Day?

Perpetuating A Myth

Infant deaths are again in the news, especially becoming a focus for Indiana government. Well, at least they claim it is on the forefront to address with law enforcement, family services, and health and medical professionals.

I often browse news releases on these types of cases because they pique my curiosity. Once a cop, always a cop.

Comments in social news feeds still, after all these years, continue to amaze me as to how many people still do not understand how a baby works in its environment. I know that statement sounds crass and depersonalized. Babies are probably what make all of us crumble with their cuteness.

Some declarations:

1) SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) does not exist. This was announced to the world in the early 2000's. Almost ALL deaths can be determined. Very few will have an undetermined status.

2) Parents and society are still uneducated which was supposed to be on the forefront of the CDC's agenda in 2005. Yet, years later, several states have high infant mortality rates, lack educational materials or service, and agencies still do not work together.

3) States with economic problems will suffer the highest rates.

How does the United States tackle this problem? I have some solutions. Yes, no one is listening. It is OK, I just like to share. It's a gift.

1)SIDS does not exist because there is no such thing as a mysterious phenomena or syndrome or disorder which zaps the life out of our infants. Manner of death (in consistent reporting requirements) can be determined:

Natural. • Accident. • Suicide. • Homicide. • Undetermined. • Pending

I will give examples of each:

Natural: illness, disease
Accident: positional asphyxiation, re-breathing
Suicide: self-inflicted-not possible with infant (under 1 year of age) deaths
Homicide: murder
Undetermined: not enough information or evidence to make a conclusion
Pending: notification not yet entered or investigation not concluded

2)Educational awareness began with a big surge of public information and then the information waned off and is now included only through medical facilities, OB/BYN floors, and the Back to Sleep program.

The way an infant case was investigated was changed and reevaluated. This began with years of study in the 1980's and a wave of training in the 2000's. Many states have not jumped on this bandwagon and refuse to work with other agencies or refuse to adopt CDC's reporting method and investigation procedures.

Free training is available, but not sought.

Several law enforcement agencies have not adopted team investigation styles nor allowed for multi-jurisdictional investigations.

Investigation methods and reporting have not included the CDC SUIDI report form in infant death investigations.

Infant death is such a tragedy and often investigators do not know how to address it with parents.

Who likes to tell the parents a child's death was an accident and preventable? No one. So lets just call it "SIDS" and soften it all up. Yet, that does not help parents get answers nor does it let society prevent future deaths.

3) Economic hardships, multi-family cohabitation, and living environments all effect infant mortality. That is a scientific fact, not a guess. I could explain in more detail, but that would be lengthy.

Here are some things I still see...parents who are told cause and manner of death, put SIDS in the obituary because anything else is too hard to see in print. Even though I understand why they do this, it portrays SIDS as alive and scary. People still believe it exists because it is perpetuated. Perhaps, they should just say "passed unexpectedly." Friends and family will know what happened. No one can control those things but it is just an observation.

Public service information is slight to nil. I used to see commercials, news stories, etc. It's like it all dried up. This is something which isn't going to be fixed ever and if the numbers are going to drop, education is the key both to the public and law enforcement. Acceptance of medical assistance from the CDC is something investigators are going to have to embrace in order to reverse the problems, or at least lessen them. Communities need to come together to educate each other. It takes a village.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Career Squishing

A while back, Well Seasoned Fool asked me to address police character in an email many moons back, and I am a little pissed Gmail has lost it in the oblivion of the Internet Cloud. I don't permanently delete anything, so it must have dropped off the face of the earth, which means I took entirely too long to address it. For this, I apologize.

I will set the scene, and if it is way off the mark, Well Seasoned Fool will certainly tell me I am full of shit. He is a straight shooter.

Let's say someone, a local, youngish, hard working, good man (yes male) gets into a bar fight or just a brawl over words or protecting someone's honor, or maybe he is just damn pissed off at some punk running their mouth and had enough. It could be at a bar. It could be at Walmart. It definitely would not happen at Target because we Target shoppers are pompous assholes. Kidding! Anyway, fists fly and dust blows. Cops eventually show up. The cop may or may not cite or arrest or perhaps he (yes male-this is a man story) talks to both parties and the fight is over and both go home, no charges, no consequences. It might be like the good old days. See. Cops are not all assholes, although it is your own damn fault you got into a fight in the first place. I would come bearing gifts. Anydigression, the cop makes a comment to the nice youngish man that his aspirations of being a cop are over and he should not think about law enforcement.

First, this statement from the police officer on career squishing is not entirely true. Could one simple fight ruin someone's chances of being a law enforcement officer? It depends is the correct way to look at it. If it does, just go join the military. LOL.

I know several great cops who got into an occasional brawl, got misdemeanors, or even smoked pot. The departments look at the time frame, age of candidate at the time, and if it was pattern behavior. So, Well Seasoned Fool...I wanted to tell you that you still could have tested and you still would have been able to be a cop. Most departments would expect honesty in reporting those things, but it would not hinder all possibilities. Unless, you applied for the FBI and they only take nerdy sissies. Just kidding.

Ok. So...this last month has been a rally to boost emotional spirits in law enforcement by myself. I, along with many of my peers are so passionate about the profession. One of my former colleagues shared his parting email upon retirement from my department. Yes, it is my department and always will be. I didn't work for anyone else. So there. Mine, mine, mine, mine. I am still part of it, although it no longer is a part of me. Get it. Got it. Good.

I wrote this along with some words from my buddy Detective Fedora. You might remember him from some stories on here and in the books: You can CLICK HERE. Tell me what you think. Do you agree with us? Are we too passionate about law enforcement? Are we unrealistic? Are we spot on? Do you agree or disagree as an outside perspective? Are we pie-eyed and stoned? No. We don't do drugs. At least not illegal ones. Right now I am on some muscle relaxers and pain killers (temporary and non-narcotic) for my neck. Believe me, they are helping as is physical therapy. I've gone once. Yeah. I know. I'm a little optimistic.

So back to business...speak the truth mighty citizens. What do you think?

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Modern Rusty Vogue Momsters

A wise man once told me:

"If you can't laugh at yourself, you should not laugh at others." It was my dad. At the time, I was laughing at him for falling into a stream we often fished from. He was soaking wet and his cowboy boots were full of water. He then pointed out I had mud on my butt, but it looked like I had pooped my pants. I had been sitting on the side of the bank, fishing. Good times.

I have been reminiscing a lot about my childhood and perhaps it is because I am organizing my family photos. Don't get all excited on me. I am only putting them in nice plastic photo tubs to keep moisture out and kept nice for Bug. Think about all the times you gripe about getting your picture taken. Now...go back 30 years (if you are that old, young bucks) and look at some memoirs, photos, clippings, notes. Aren't you glad you have them? Don't they bring back memories of the times? Without those things, would you have any brain activity that would trigger those thoughts? Maybe. Maybe not.

Where are you going with this, Fargo?

Nowhere. Isn't it great? I can go nowhere and you will follow me there. Dummies. Not really. I'm kidding. (about you being dummies)

So...I feel like life rolled over a new leaf for me and underneath it was a beautiful blossom. No. Not really. I'm messing with ya.

I do feel rested. Why? Drugs.

Let me show you the ways...

Doctor..blah blah..broke neck..blah blah..cervical degenerative disc disease..blah blah...treatments and later possibly surgery...blah blah. Now, you are all caught up.

So..I told the doc I did not want any narcotic or scheduled pain killers, etc. Good. Check Check.

I forgot the wonders of Flexeril. Bless me! I have had it once before.

Again...I must show it in charts. Why? Because they are fucking great, that's why!

Sleep Chart: Feb 4

Sleep Chart: Feb 6

Sleep Chart: Feb 9

So...I included sporadic sleep charts because they are all full of pink slashes and look same, same, so why bother including more. Notice on the last chart all the red hashes are gone except how long it takes for me to go to sleep and the alarm and denial of such (snooze button). I feel like a teacher right now. I just need one of those pointer thingies.

Isn't this marvelous, boys and girls? No, I am not high. I am expressing my inner teacher.

I still feel pain this morning, but I am optimistic it will get better. Yesterday, I was in neck traction and I thought it was weird. Not sure what I think about it. The longer I think about it, I will come up with some conclusion. Wait...coffee! Squirrel!

In, still, yet, furthermore, other news...Bug and I attended our first self-defense class together. I contacted her father and we agreed on it. No worries. I wanted her to feel empowered and hopefully it will build her self-esteem. Wrong. She is beating the shit out of me. Oh well. You should see the smile on her face. It is well worth it. Even the instructor, a 2nd degree black belt and wonderful man, was happy. He wasn't going to accept her. I had to sweet talk. Then...he agreed. He also let in another young person. They are both doing well. I think as mothers, we are satisfied with our choice and feel this is most excellent.

Now...where is that icy hot, heat pack, ice pack, and glass of wine? Wait...I must take my pills first. 

Not really. 

But it sounded so vogue, right? 

Monday, February 9, 2015

The EYES have it.

Let me introduce you to some freaks.

It is the latest and greatest thing.

They are those who engage in corneal tattooing. CRAZAYASSED whackadoodle poodles. No way in hell would I ever embark upon this body art...like ever. Gross me out.

I might faint at the sight of posting a picture. You can see my favorite find here at the BBC News site. Barf.  Or gag me more and make me pass out...here:

Photo credit: Pinterest...WTF is wrong with people?

When Doc would have us attend autopsies which was all of them, LOL, I could not watch when they put the 70 foot needle in the eyes to withdraw fluid from the eyes. It was a sure fire way to get all the cops to run post haste out of the morgue.

Would it surprise you I could not even find any images on the internet. OK. I didn't look very hard. But the first 100 or so did not show what I wanted to show you. Everyone should join in the misery. I have to go now. This picture is really freaking me out and I am tapping both feet (that is a tapout) at my desk while typing this.

My eyes are on you! Bofe of 'em! And they don't look like this..^^^ No one is getting anything poke-y  not slow like turtle, but sharp like needle) near my eyes.


Might I suggest all you whackadoodles have your corneas tattooed white so as we can't see any bloodshot eyes on the highway roadside tests...er...field sobriety maneuvers.

No way.

Crazay assed people.

Cloudy with a Chance of Rain is the New Black

I have been absent. Let me catch you up, then you will wish you were still behind:

1) I have been experiencing lots of pain. However, I decided I did not want to cry myself to sleep anymore nor wake up all jacked up. So I went to sports medicine/ortho doc...the best of the best. Yay, insurance! Not so yay when I get my copay. He quizzed me (drill down minus the drill) so much I felt like I was interrogated. At the end, I felt he was going to tell me I just had a hang nail. I was thinking maybe a pulled muscle, but later after his water boarding, he slapped up my x-ray and said, "Well, I did find this!" With his little pointer he showed me where I had a broken neck (at one time) at C5 and C6 which healed (not so goodly) and now has arthritis in the back, bone spurs in the front, and a degenerated disc between 5 and 6. He said it was a twisting injury. I thought I looked dead because it was just a skeletal view. I screamed, "Dude! Where's my face?" Not really. Then, I pinched myself. I was still alive. It was a fake picture of me. X-rays are fake. It's my logic. Roll with it. So...we could pinpoint to 1999 and it was not from my major car accident in 1995. It was probably attributed to my police work. Oh joy. So now...lots of physical therapy, drugs, massages. Then reevaluate. Surgery is the ultimate final answer. Beat me.

Many people have said I am a pain in the neck. Now, literally, I am.

2) Anthem was hacked. So now what? I am more worried about some asshat stealing my daughter's information and creating credit in her name than myself. Why? Because who is going to know? I now have to check all the time. I tried to put a block on her name and SSN and they told me she has to be 18. WTF? You are not helping me Experian!

3) French Lick Resort got hacked. Yes, I got a free complimentary visit. However, I had to give them my card number upon checking in for incidentals. Fuck me in the ass twice, you say!

4) Businesses are so afraid of fake people with post office boxes or terrorists posing as normal little fat ladies that every where I go, they don't want my post office box. Well, the post office does not deliver to my physical address and it will be rejected! Impossible douche canoes! Accept my address. I live in rural America, you fools!

5) I was sitting in the reclining part of my couch and when I closed the footrest, I shut the baby puppy in there. I am an evil moron dog owner! I felt so bad. Poor puppy! Bug screamed at me that I needed to pay attention and look before I closed my legs. I don't think she meant it like that, but I got her drift.

6) My boss said I have a black cloud following me. The assistant boss says I have a black cloud. Why do I see sunshine after the rain? Oy. Maybe they are right. Perhaps I am God's experiment on how much a person can take before they can't handle anymore. Dear God, I'm tough. You can stop now.

So what do I do? Carry on. Carry on. At first, I was very down in the dumps with all this poop shit thrown in my face and feeling sorry for myself. That lasted a few short days. Now, it is what it is. Time to deal with all this poop shit. I will busy shoveling for the next few days.

On a positive note...I think this is kind of cool...

Photo Credit: Facebook, Undertech Undercover

                        You can buy yours here: LINK
I did not buy one, nor have I used one, I just thought they were a smart and practical idea.

In other news...I used to look like that once.

Monday, February 2, 2015

The Permit

Without further ado, I am going to introduce you to my latest read, The Permit, by William B. Scott.

Scott gives a gripping tale of fiction based upon some true accounts of his son's killing in Las Vegas, Nevada, in 2010.
Erik Scott's case is easily researched online if you wish to peruse the online sites. I did, naturally, because I was curious. It was disturbing to me even though I don't really know all the evidence. I also have to take in account that I don't have all the facts and news sources are sometimes not trusted sites of truth.

Perhaps all the latest inquests into police shootings also caused me some concern and the fact I would like to trust the FEDS or an outside agency would investigate properly and uphold right over wrong. This is not always so and garbage in gives garbage out. We, as the outsiders, would never be privy to what the FBI is given in an investigation nor what they discover. Personnel matters are often kept within a department and only criminal allegations go public.

Erik Scott's case was and still is indeed a tragedy. Even the case information available to the public leaves me with many questions. I will be interested to see what comes of any civil case.

With all this, comes emotions. The book gives you a sense of some of the grief William Scott must have felt, only I am sure it only gives us a surface look. Plus, Scott wrote in so brilliantly "frustration": frustration with corruption; frustration with the legal system not prevailing and the struggle to find the truth; frustration with everything going against every moral grain we have as citizens; and a parent's fight for justice. Then there is revenge-an eye for an eye. It is all in the storyline.

Some issues I had with the beginning were the inept police procedures and lack of firearms safety. Gah. I know the author meant to show the incompetence of the police officers, but it drives me crazy. I just wanted to correct them. The mixture of content (fiction and non-fiction) caused me some conflict while I read the book, knowing real was mixed with unreal. You can mostly sort it out, but it leaves you with a cloud of doubt.

Perhaps it is just the nosy investigator side of me and it left a hole in my heart and an unsettling feeling.

The book was very well-written and an easy read, but deep and heavy at the same time. Intense is a better way to describe it. It reminded me of the emotions I went through with the movie "Training Day" with Denzel Washington. I don't want the cops to be corrupted, yet we can't hide our faces in the sand. There is and has been corruption out there and some departments where it is deep-rooted. Most of us probably could name a couple of big departments which have been exposed publicly. Thankfully, I worked in a department without any of this type of behavior, nor would I have stood for it as an officer. 

Scott gives you an inside look to corruption, internal investigations, and conspiracy. In his novel, it all becomes a dirty little secret the father, Win Steele, tries to reveal. He added in a little "spy" factor which was intriguing and brought a unique twist. Over all, it was different, intriguing, and fast-paced. I couldn't put the book down and what a ride it gives you with several plot twists and turns. Scott definitely leaves the reader with an important message which I might gather is his intent. It is well worth the read and I highly recommend it.

If any of this sparks your interest, I suggest you boogie down to Amazon and get your copy. He also has a Kindle version, but you know me...I like the tree version.