Evidence 101

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

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

#TheStupid:Translation-Pound The Stupid and Bless The PoPo

Somewhere like 11 posts ago, I hit 1500 of those suckers. Some of which as you know are detailed in my books. Not all, but some. Go me! Yep. End of celebration. On to the next post.

Memorial Day weekend was full of epic failure in the exercise department. Maybe my body needed a couple days off. It was pitiful. I did have overuse injuries last Friday which concerned me and have been a chronic problem but I keep torturing myself. Not really. That's just a fat man's way of making excuses. No, really...I did suffer from chronic swelling in the feet and hands. Hands from circulation and dehydration and feet from being upright too long. Apparently, this signifies I must nap in between things throughout the day or lay on one of those couches talking to a wonderbrain about my problems...or resting poolside. That's it.

Today has been a great start to a new week. Fresh goodness packed for lunch and lots of coffee.

I'm vacillating (isn't that a dirty word?) on whether I am ready for a half marathon by August. I have time to vacillate more. Vas-sil-late...say it slow. It's dirty sounding. It sounds like you have an infection. In the vagina.

So...plagued in the news are cop slayings, floods, and flags upside down or stomped on.


The sky is falling.

Prayers to all those suffering from the severe weather and bless the PoPo.

Pac Sun pulled their shirt off the market. Duh. I believe their company boobs had no marketing sense and never had an ounce of patriotic blood in their bodies. Boobs. It went viral. Prepare for boycotts because the masses are pissed. I never have purchased this brand in my life. I'm not into it. But if I had...
Screen shot off AJC.com

Cops are going to start wearing purple uniforms in order to be more "soft" and less intimidating to the public. This according to an article by Call The Cops. (This is satire, people) 
Photo credit: callthecops.net
It is, however, so close to the truth that it is plausible. 

Barneys. Not Barney Fifes, either. 

Call Barney. The purple dinosaur. With a badge. 
I love you, you love me. Together we're a happy family...

Yes, I'm being ridiculous. And purple. Time to change font. 

Mainstream media and local news outlets are removing picture comments on their Facebook pages. This defeats the reason why I read them. Those sometimes are better than the article itself. I certainly won't be able to comment any longer unless I go on a written rant. Some people are visual, MEDIA! Censorship. Bastards.

I must end with some funny...

Note...The Rock is oiled...and ready for me...

At least that's what my fantasy says, bitches!

Friday, May 22, 2015

Moto Boating

The Chairman had had enough of my shenanigans. He pointed to the one way glass.

"Behind that glass, people are watching. They are watching me break you."

"Oh, yeah? Who? Who is interested?"


"In watching this? Is it going to get to WWE style? I know some moves."

"It doesn't matter, Fargo. What matters is when you go out in public."



I did not get any of this. Was he trying to make me poo my pants? Was it a threat? He was going to "break" me? Well, he was no top cop. I found it amusing. This was a front row seat to pure entertainment. Maybe I was going to get, shudder, "brainwashed."

I had to stay to find out.

Well, I had to stay anyway because they were making me.

"Fargo, please address the issues at hand in which I present to you. Law abiding citizens, armed with concealed weapons are too often turning what would otherwise be unpleasant but not catastrophic events such as fender-benders and commuting hassles into tragedies."

"Should I put a stamp on it?"

"What? NO!"

"It's stupid. Probably made by a stupid senator."

The Chairman was shaking his head and his face was red like Grandma's beet pickles. Actually, those were more a pretty magenta color, but nonetheless, he was a new color.

"Is this an epidemic I have not been aware of? Where is this happening? Like all over?"


"Is it in the water? We should filter it!"

"Miz Fargo, you are trying your patience."

"You mean your patience."

"Yes. That's what I said."

"But..well...never mind."

"You are trying my patience!!!"

"Yes, Mr. Chairman. I tried it. I found it to be short."


"Could we be serious? What about guns crossing state lines?"

"They are? When did they become mobile like that?"

He was not amused.

"Mr. Chairman, who cares? Who cares if guns cross state lines? Is it a crime? Can I not take my rifle to the west when I go deer hunting? Can I not take my handgun to my mom's house for protection? Why not?"

"Those guns might be used for bad purposes. Someone might steal them."

"Really? This is an epidemic?"

The door banged open and in stomped a man who looked like he was from Illinois.

"Mis Fargo, when the equivalent of an entire classroom of kids is killed by gun violence, it underscores the need for common sense, effective gun safety measures that respond to the level of violence in our communities."

"Mr. Illinois, what gun safety measure would prevent someone from killing others in a classroom?"

"Uh, well, I have many in mind. Take big guns away and make it mandatory to register them all. Acknowledging that gun ownership is a basic right does not absolve us from the constitutional and moral responsibility to protect innocent children. What do you think of that?"

I frowned.

"Miz Fargo? I am engaging you in a discussion of these matters."



"I'm trying to process all that."


"I can't make sense of it. How would have taking "big" guns away-which I don't know what size you mean- or making a mandatory registration have prevented Sandy Hook? Or Columbine? I have no idea what you mean by gun ownership being a basic right would take away from any innocent children."

Mr. Illinois slammed his fist on the table.

I didn't flinch. I might have blinked only because it was a natural reflex.

"She's impossible! Defiant! Ignorant!"

He stormed out. Mr. Chairman leaned in.

"You're pissing off the wrong people, Fargo."

"What? That guy? He is a weenie. First of all, I'm not scared. If you feel you need to threaten me or to take my crayons away so you can have the best art, then go for it. But what you propose makes no sense. How do you expect to change the country when you make laws which do nothing to fix the problems of broken people, bad choices, disconnected citizens? We are a sick nation."

"Indeed. That's what I'm saying. All these gun toting weirdos everywhere."

"Where are they? Show me. Right now. Let's go outside."

My first inkling outside would be to run away, but this was too much fun.

"Nice try, Fargo. Distract me so you can run away. Bob, bring in Nita."

A brunette lady dressed in a very expensive suit came into the room. She looked like my 2nd grade teacher. I suspected she was one of THEM. She nodded. The light got dimmer. Ooo...it was about to get real.

"Miz Fargo, in these gun travesties-either the laws aren't sufficient or the laws were broken."



"Yes, ma'am."


"Well, what? That was a statement of your opinion, not a question."

She screamed. I was taken aback by that. It reminded me of Bug's tantrums.

"Well, ma'am. Ok. If you say so."

Just then two blond ladies entered.

"Let me handle her. Guns kill. And those who glamorize gun play or worship gun ownership do no service to humanity. What now, Miz Fargo?"

"Well, ma'am, I worship Jesus. I do not bedazzle my guns, but if people want to do that, I guess that is OK. I don't see the problem there. Sometimes I wear pink on the range. Is that glamorous? And who is playing with guns? They should be taught some firearms safety immediately. Oh, and guns don't just fire ammo into people all willy nilly by themselves. Usually...it's a finger's fault. Attached to a HU-MAN. Maybe if you cut off every one's hands, we can all be safe. Now that's an idea fitting to a liberal."

"Carolyn. She is former police. Let me handle this conversation." The other blond turned to me. "Miz Fargo, I have always supported law enforcement having access to all of the information they need to keep us safe, fight against gun violence and keep guns out of the hands of criminals."

"Thank you, ma'am. I like your jacket."

"Oh, thank you. It's Talbot's. I got it at a good price."

"Ma'am, I could have used you on the force, because I know a few criminals who got guns. So how do you keep them out of criminal hands? They don't care about rules."

"The availability of guns to children, felons, and the mentally unstable individuals is a major problem. It's atrocious."

"Define atrocious? I think one gun in the hands of a felon is atrocious. I think children should be taught firearms safety and should practice with a responsible adult. What is defined as mentally unstable? A little crazy or full on cray-cray?"

"Miz Fargo. Don't be difficult."

"I didn't think I was. Is someone advocating the sale on the corner to these groups? Where? Are they handing them out? Are they in vending machines? 'Cause that would be interesting. Probably in one of those western states."

"Miz Fargo, could you please be serious. No one likes a smartass."

"Have you been talking to my dad?"

"No, why?"

"Well, because he has passed away and if you can talk to him, I might need a private session with you. He used to say that all the time to me. How much for a reading?"

"See? See what I am saying, Mr. Chairman?" She turned back to me, "All you gun weirdos are the same. Fuck!"

"Wow. Simmer down, fireball. Just because I disagree with you doesn't mean you need to poop in the sand box. Are you going to discard the 4th Amendment, label sickos, and lock up children in a closet until they are 18 to make sure NO tragedies happen? What is the number of these violators and tragic cases compared to the non-troublesome people? Is everyone running amok? Why don't you advocate knowledge and truth for a change? What about education for everyone? For our youth? Give out more free gun locks? How are you going to make people use them? Be responsible? What about real penalties for criminals? These are questions I want answered. You're the ones who let them out to have a second chance...third, fourth, fifth...or wait...you just give them probation. Apparently Americans are too dumb to figure it out without you taking away their freedoms. Why don't you make houses all the same? Work on urban development? Why don't you provide viable jobs for everyone?"

"Miz Fargo, you are getting off track."

"No off road driving? How do you expect good ideas to come to fruition? That's how cowboys decided where the best places was to put roads. "

Her fist hit the wall. I was glad it was not my face. I think she had been working out.

"I don't think your ideas are good."

"Why? It's no secret that economic boosts in the nation make for a lower crime rate. Lower crime rate helps morale, helps mental well-being. Heck. I would stop working the corner if you did that for me."

They rolled their eyes. The Chairman escorted the ladies out.

"Miz Fargo. Congress must act to close the gun show loop hole. We must protect people from these trades and sales of semi-automatic weapons. There are gaping holes in our gun laws. Virginia Tech should not be forgotten."

"So you are going to require all those people at gun shows to have an FFL? Do background checks? What gaping holes in the gun laws are you going to plug? Which laws? Which new laws are you going to propose?"

"Uh, I'm working on it. Nothing formal yet."

"Well, Mr. Chairman, I would really like to know your proposals in detail."

"Miz Fargo, I believe the M & M's have arrived."

"You were just stalling with those silly questions, weren't you, Mr. Chairman?"

Some of these topics were taken from conversations, speeches, debates,  or media recordings...all stated by the top gun control advocates in the nation. These are real issues being taken up about 2nd Amendment rights, gun control, and laws.


n the equivalent of an entire classroom full of kids is killed by gun violence, it underscores the need for common-sense, effective gun safety measures that respond to the level of violence in our communities…Acknowledging that gun ownership is a basic right does not absolve us from the constitutional and moral responsibility to protect innocent children

Something About Nothing At All

There are times the air is so thick that I have to push through clouds of bullshit.

Photo on Pinterest embellished by Fargo

Like lately.

I'm sick of cops getting slaughtered. I emphasize this because it's a big sick.

I'm sick of the War on Cops. NOW they have to wear soft uniforms. 

I'm sick of race baiters.

I'm really sick of hearing "All cops are corrupted" when I walk into work. It's happened more than once. Today it put me over the "bitch slap" moment and jail thoughts. I could go on here like I'm still mad and I even Facebooked about it. Now I'm blogging about it. Yeah. I'm still mad.

Normally, I would take medication for all these sicknesses. They aren't prescription type.  Nope that won't help.

I really want to throat chop people.

It's like an urge. Similar to the urges that serial killers have when they serial kill. Only different. 

However, that has consquences. Like jail.

I tried to change my outfit like girls do to make themselves feel better.  Notice the new look of the blog.

I went to Bug's ceremony where she was inducted into National Junior Honor Society. I am so proud.

I ate chocolate.

I drank.

NONE of it made a change in my cloud of attitude. It's heavy. Why?

Because I'm weak, Bitches.

OR-because these topics are relentless and kept coming at me like a nudnik on a pest wagon.

All these clouds of bullshit are:

1) on the news
2) on Facebook
3) in email
4) on Twitter
5) through personal contacts

I'm an advocate for living off the grid away from PEOPLE. Dogs are good. Humans are bad.


I just thought there would be this glow.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Lavender Spendor

Today is all about giving the love. Hugging forward, if you will.

Here's a great recipe full of protein and fresh goodness...Lavender Chicken Sandwich. Mwah! Kiss the fingers and forward motion as if you were in Italy. Do it now.

When I say these words...this is NOT what I mean:

It's not an Italian dish either. It's a Fargo dish. Pretend you are in Fargo Land. Never mind. Bad idea.

Ok. Let's get down to business:

Organic chicken breasts-cleaned-slice into three equal parts. The End.

Not really.

Now put a tablespoon of olive oil in a pan and put the heat up to med-high. 

Don't be a chicken.


Next, roll your chicken pieces in this mixture:
                culinary lavender
                black pepper
                sea salt

I know, you anal retentive types are asking me, "Fargo, how much in the mixture?"


Figure it out.

It's all about taste and what you prefer. Do I have to change your diapers?

Throw those babies in a pan. Add some fresh crushed garlic. Do it. Do it.

Cook those egg laying machines til tender and juicy. DO NOT EMBRACE PINK.

PINK in chicken is BAD.

See I emphasized "pink-bad". See it. Believe it.

Now grab you some sesame bagel thins or Ezekiel bread of any flavor.

Yeah. Just hold it there.

                    The magic to this mess is: HOMEMADE GUAwk. Kakaw! Yeah. That's chicken spelling for you.

Take one avocado, one Roma tomato, small amount of white or red onion chopped, cilantro-some, garlic salt- a pinch, squeeze of lime. Take it. Take it to a bowl. Not the one you use for pot. The other kind. Use your food processor if you have to have geriatric mush or just slice and slice with a knife like a serial killer to a nice smooth vegetable chunky consistency.

Visual people look here. It should look like this.

Slather about two tablespoons or three of that on your bagel thin or Ezekiel bread.

Don't be an idiot and substitute other breads. Gah. Listen, Linda. Next, plop those chicken tenders on there. Cover the bread. Don't be stingy and don't be a piggy. DO NOT add any other condiments or condoms (however you spell the word) or seasonings. It's fresh goodness. It's a sandwich. Eat it.

There are no pictures of the final masterpiece because I ate it.

This post brought to you by the color green.

RESULT: Energy, protein, nutrition, full stomach, green poop. Happy innards.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Bum Poo

Sooooo....it's time for another edition of Mommy in the Hood...

I get to go to Greece for work. What does that mean? Exactly. Work retreat. Go me!

Finally, a break in the clouds and sunshine on my face. Doing the happy dance at work. Moonwalking in my office at my desk. Sprinkler. The Dougie.

I did security for them once. When the song came on, I might have been dancing in the dark corner of the Casper Events Center. Maybe. In uniform. Possibly. No. It was before Snapchat and Instagram. I don't even think videos were a thought on cell phones back then except to capture bad moves by the police.

Actually...The Carlton.

It beats yesterday...

(missed calls from Bug=8)

Hmm. This looks like crisis hotline dialing. I called her back.

"MOM! I am so mad! You would not believe!"

At this point, I am driving home after my workout and holding the phone about 2 feet away as her teenager screech was killing me.

"What is wrong?"

I am not moved in the least toward her anxiety levels.


Pretty much bracing myself for another "dog ate your prized possessions" story.

"Well, what happened?"


"Could you use your inside voice?"


"Well, take a paper towel and pull the poop off and throw it away. The good news is it isn't on the floor or carpet."


(fake hyperventilating)

"Stop it. You are being ridiculous."


"Well, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Murphy might sit on you with poop on his bum or lick your face."


"Suit yourself. I might stop at the store. Or get the mail. Or visit. Someone."


I heard a door slam at the same time she disconnected the call.

And so it was.

All that over a dingleberry.

Cutest dog ever
Yes. I got the poor puppy clean and back in order. I might have left her in her room for a while and exaggerated the operation of the poo removal. It was a dramatization of sorts.

Yes, I remove poo from dogs' bums.

Just get up all in there.

Get 'er done.

Just do it.

Quit slackin' and make shit happen.

Like a boss.

Monday, May 18, 2015


I've been trying to increase my mileage if I am to accomplish a half-marathon in the fall. Now I see myself only entering if I run the whole thing or slow jog, whatever. BUT my office expert says it's OK to run/walk and just finish, especially your first one. My theory is never enter a race too big for your britches, but that's just me. I could care less about image.

So therefore, I train longer miles and harder. Mind you, it's taken more than a year to feel awesome again, so I am just going to expend myself.

Yesterday at the gym, I had a creeper. He resembled Fred Flintstone somewhat and was with his son.

Even his son told his dad to stop staring because he was being a creeper. I heard that plus viewed a smack on the left arm as he delivered his disgust to his father. Good boy. Keep that up.

I wished he would have stared at the young pretty college girls instead of someone his own age. Yeah. Then he would have been super creepy and I could have attacked that shit with some Fargo magic. Quash the chimo. But it was apparent he wasn't one.

Father and son were preparing to leave when I walked in and I overheard their conversation of staying longer. At first I thought nothing of it until I felt: THE SIDEWAYS AWKWARD GAZE. It was not smooth at all. Soon father and son were on the stair stepping machines which are in the southeast corner of the track facing outside, mind you, nowhere near forward facing the track. I like it that way. People stare outside, opposite of the runners.

Every time I rounded that corner, he would turn and stare at me while stairing. It was awkward: SIDEWAYS AWKWARD. I tried to fart in that area, but luck would have it I had no gas that day.

Immediately, I donned my resting bitch face, but it did not deter his glances. He probably thought I was just a serious runner.

What happens when you have a creeper? You creep back. Why? I don't know! The creeper backs don't creep like the creepers. It's like self-defense creeping. It's the only way you can counter move the creeper moves.

I watched out of the corner of my evil eye as I was on the other side and he didn't turn for the cute, young skinny girls, so he was being age appropriate. It was still gross. Yes, I was the only old girl on the track. Thankfully, I only had to suffer for 90 minutes of my runs (not butt explosions) and the rest was interval training and went smoothly without any uncomfortable clouds. It could have been longer and more of an expedition instead of the longest journey.

Why couldn't he be HIM:

Hmmm Mmmm

Oh, I know why. It doesn't work that way for me. I get the Fred Flintstones and the Barney Rubbles. Or serial killer types. 

Yabba dabba doo! Doo. DON'T! 

As I thought about it, I tried to change my gait to an uneven gallop, embracing my inner klutz. I really didn't have to dig too deep as it comes naturally. Perhaps if I looked like a three legged turtle, he would avert. Nope. Failed attempt.

What if I walked a lot? Gym people don't like slackers. I tried that. I looked away or down every time I passed that corner. Nope. He was a true creeper. 

Why couldn't it be a day of allergies with long snot trains running down my face? Or a booger stuck to my cheek? Yeah. Even I can't do that, I would have gagged...but I think it would have solved the problem. 

Gym Creeper Top Tens:

1.  Flirting with the gym workers.
2. Watching girls squat.
3. Talking about someone's Spandex
4. Working out next to a hot chick, switching up your routine just to be next to her.
5. Looking at someone in the mirror, pretending you are working out.
6. SIDEWAYS AWKWARD GAZE. Like you are some sort of smooth operator.
7. Looking at someone while working biceps. Creepy. Freak!
8. Wearing a cut up t-shirt which represents two strings, showing off your muffin top.
9. Ignoring headphones and trying to make conversation with someone. They are on for a reason!
10. Bringing your cute kid to the gym. It's like bringing your dog to the park to pick up chicks.

My only defense was to outlast his stay because as you exit the 40 million dollar facility, you have to give them your last name so they can give retrieve your faculty/staff ID. It was a day to be Gladys Nightstone, but of course, if I said that and they didn't have an ID to match, then I would be whack. I go there every single day. Why couldn't they just look at me and know who I am, hand me my card? Why? Because gym workers have to say, "Have a nice day, Ms. Loving!" Ack. Another way for a creeper to find out who you are. 

So there I was. I was really expired at an hour, but, by golly, I would keep going until he left and stopped lingering at the track like a stray cat. 

How long did I keep going?

45 minutes longer. 

I'm pretty exhausted. 

Maybe I need more creepers to challenge me.  I'm pretty sure that is a bad idea. 

It's CreepFit.

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Take Your Balls Out of Your Purse

It was surely a sign of the times: a middle of the road conservative was staring across the table at a hard line Democrat. I often wondered how our country got to this place where there was such a division. Neither party would come to middle ground even if it was for the greater good because each party would rather slit their own wrists for their agenda. Not too much made sense anymore to me. And civil unrest feels like America is driving in reverse to the 60's. Not only are hard lines drawn in the sand, but the party labels have become rules for discrimination all on their own.

If you are in a blue state, the reds have to get at the back of the bus and vice versa. Party affiliation is now near the top of the list for marital compatibility. Gone are the days where people could cohabitate but differ on political opinions without killing one another. How did we get to the point where communication stops or becomes aggressive when you disclose which party you favor? It was a mystery surely to go unsolved just like fixing the national deficit.

The Chairman shooed everyone out of the room, but I knew people were standing behind the glass window. So this is how politicians deal with those who disagree with them. It really didn't matter if I made sense or not, I was a Republican. Even if I agreed with the man, he would probably still beat me into submission.

"Fargo. Your kind make me furious. Imbeciles! You would argue with a pencil."

"I'm not sure what that means, Mr. Chairman."

He threw a chair into the wall. Like I hadn't seen that trick before.

"You know what gets my goat, Fargo, is people like you who are too stupid to see the writing on the wall. We got kids killing kids and shootings everywhere. We have to stop this anarchy. Damn Republicans are going to stall things to a point we get nowhere. You are bringing this country down. How many kids do we have to lose before you gun toting psychos will get a clue we need some changes? Huh? How many is too many?"

With calm resolve, I answered his questions, ignoring the stabs at Republicans. "Mr. Chairman, one child is too many. But what has changed? The availability of firearms? Are they breaking into a sporting goods store and stealing high powered firearms, high capacity mags, ammo? Not likely. The reports I have seen the firearms are coming from the suspects' homes or associates, mostly. And what can you tell us about the behavioral profile of the killers? They are all disturbed boys who were "different", "loners", "bullied", or "mentally disturbed." Not one of them had serial killer mentality nor were they the nice boy next door. So what does that tell us?  That tells us we have some psychological problems going on with our youth. They are disconnected. Your solutions are to ban guns and lock up gun owners because they didn't keep their firearms out of the hands of killers."

"Fargo, the guns they are using are not necessary. They have no purpose."

"That statement says a lot about the way things are heading in this country. Ban these words because they are not politically correct, say it this way. Ban these words or those words because they have no purpose or the purpose has changed. People can't stand up and speak anymore because they might have repercussions. Although the word thug has no color, we must not use it anymore because people will assume you are talking about black suspects. What words have you banned because they are too white? And firearms are evil-ban them all and then the police won't have to carry them. Yeah. That makes sense. Let me fart rainbows. Even though the pledge of allegiance was recited in schools for decades and we grew up just fine and respectful, thought nothing of it other than it was required and part of our patriotism, we must stop saying it. Why? Because the word 'God' is in it. Stop spending money because 'In God We Trust' is on there.  When are you going to stop flying the American flag in front of government establishments? Not only do you ban God in school, but it's almost to the point of walking down the street and singing Jesus Loves Me will get you crucified."

"Actually, we have been tossing around an idea like that. We have got to stop being so offensive."

"Are you going to blow sunshine up everyone's ass? Spread your happy, happy-joy, joy? Why can't we embrace each other's differences and appreciate one another for them rather than all conform to be the same. That's actually what I think you Democrats are up to is an elite race where we are all the same...wear the same clothes, talk the same. Shit, what color are you going to describe the new race-we are the Achromatics?"

"Your smartass comments disturb me. It's heathens like you who can't see progress."

"Oh, I like progress, I just don't understand where you are going with this country. I don't understand the race baiters, the civil unrest, and banning everything you disagree with. I see the racial tension and I know it is there, but where did it come from? Why have we reverted to a time where color lines are defining us? Oh, I know. You blame it on the cops. They did it. "

"Law enforcement must be reformed! Guns have to be controlled. People need to be controlled. We have Neanderthals everywhere and hate running amok. If people can't change on their own, we need rules, laws to make them comply. They must conform."

"That's all good and well, but just because they comply doesn't mean they agree and they might be drumming up a way to revolt or change the law when you aren't in office. You can't change the stripes on a zebra. Make positive change which makes sense. People are motivated and inspired to do good things by positive influence and leading by example. Most have it within them. But how do you address the ones who are a negative product of their environment?"

"That's what I'm talking about. We control them. Control the guns. Control the religions in pubic and in schools. Control how you treat people and what they say."

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. "

"Another reason why you conservatives are screwing everything up. "

"Ralph Waldo Emerson."


"That's who said that. "

"So what. He was probably Republican."

"We might finally agree. He was an abolitionist who were mostly all Republicans. Democrats mostly comprised of the KKK and the opposition. What do you think of that?"

"I think you are bending history, Fargo."

"Funny how you would say that. I think we could say the same of you. Nature is so busy making individuals and uniqueness, and  you want a single mold. I am pretty sure that is bastardized from U.G. Krishnamurti. "

"Stop your babble!"

"Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth."

"Fargo. I don't want to listen to your fucking nonsense. I want you to convert to my way of thinking on this gun control matter."

He slammed down Stangard's notebook which he left behind when he was ordered to leave. Now I was curious about the notes on that paper. It was going to be an unsolved mystery. Nuts. That was going to bother me the entire time. Now I knew what a suspect feels like during interrogation. What are they writing? What are they thinking? I had always been on the other side.  I focused my attention back to the circus act in front of me.

"John F. Kennedy. He said that. Oh, wait.  I think he was a Democrat."

"You are getting us off track."

"I'm merely arguing my points of difference with you."

"We have to have common social rules and norming which includes values and laws. This includes guns, health care, discrimination laws, amnesty, laws against one religion, etc."

"I agree we should not discriminate.  I mean, people are people. I don't agree with everyone. Sometimes we can change people's ways or minds, but sometimes it is more than that. Sometimes we have to let them be even if we don't agree with them. How far do you squeeze a person?  You were one of those who always put the square peg in the square hole. I know it. You never tried to put the round peg in the square hole. You never even attempted it out of curiosity or mistake. Why? Because that is the rules."


The Chairman's face was turning read and he pursed his lips.

"See, you liberals can't even laugh anymore at something funny or smile at something amusing not even at yourself. On a serious note, you are trying to put everyone in the same box. It isn't going to work."

"Fargo, you are crazy, you are a misfit. Nothing you have to give is a viable solution. It's easy to ban the guns and take away the means."

"Misfits and crazies are going to change the world. You can glorify us or vilify us but we are going to change the world. We are genius."

"Shut up. What nonsense you spew."

"Steve Jobs."

"Could you please address the issues at hand. I could care less about the past, history, or quotes."

"So how can you come to a sensible solution for our societal problems? People. Fix the people, fix the kids-but not by conforming everyone. Stop trying to control religious freedom. Stop trying to stifle speech. Refocus your energy on something you can fix. The more you try to give out restrictions, the more people revolt. Give them services, reach out, vocational rehab, rebuild neighborhoods, community centers, parks, activities. Get some industry up all in these states. We are pitiful as a nation. We have outsourced everything and cut our own throat. You know where we can regain their trust, reach our kids? The arts, literature, and sports. Farms, good food, organic, fix the food. Fix the schools. There. You have my opinions."

"Fargo, that all costs money."

"Since when did money stop you? When it was corporate? Lobby costs? Personal gain? These implementations cost money, volunteers, expertise, buy-in from the communities, more money to sustain all of it, and personal investment. But let's not count all the billions America throws away. We don't invest in our own nation. How do you expect to have positive growth if you won't endow our youth with a future which is prosperous and healthy?"

"Blah, blah, blah."

"Take your balls out of your purse."


"You need to get your head right."

"You need to conform, Fargo.

"When do I get those green M & M's?"


"Isn't that what you give people for the magic conversion?"

"Ugh, Fargo. Green M & M's are for something else."

"Is it the blue ones?"

Friday, May 15, 2015

You're So Meme

Yesterday was such a blur. Maybe because my contacts were stuck in my head all day. Like in the upper cornea. It hurt like a bitch. I just dealt with it until after work, then I donned my slutty librarian glasses minus the slut and the librarian.

Perhaps it was a blur because it was busy and not due to my gooey contact issue.

I feel like I am riding life by the seat of my pants some days and others on the back of a turtle.

But... life is good.

Yesterday's news...

Moose is on the naughty train and ate my Oakleys which were sentimental to me as I wore them on patrol, when I went shooting, and when I ran races. He's lucky he isn't a German rug. I decided to give him another chance.

Oakley glasses on the other hand were buried in the garbage with long sobs and feelings of defeat.

It's hard to think life might go on without them.

Murphy drug out my shoes from my closet before I caught him on the naughty train and he crawled away begging for mercy.  He tried to give the appearance he was lining my shoes up nicely, but he didn't fool me.

There is a reason why every door in the house is shut or locked. He still manages to open the bathroom one because it doesn't secure properly and I can hear his head in the toilet. Makes for some interesting face kissing and I have to refrain from loves until I scrub his face.

He brings all new meaning to butthead.

I wonder if dogs go around all day smelling butt because when they sniff butts and crotches and lick their butts, balls, and private matters...that is sticks to their nose. Kind of like when I went to dead body calls and that smell was up my nose for a long time. It's a question. I really am going to have reevaluate where I kiss their cute little faces or if I use wet wipes first.

Sasha Fierce (Olliver) has been an angel so I am waiting for that other shoe to drop.

Bug is full of piss and vinegar just like a teenager outta be. Beat me.

I exercised three times yesterday. I think it was a B12 crack attack. I burned 3, 012 calories during those moments and dropped 1.2 lbs. Crazy. I felt like a Big Loser contestant only smaller.

In new news...

It's paint scraping season on the Harry Potter House since the tornado-ish storm did not take care of it for me. Drat you, Mother Nature! Of course, you took care of the neighborhood trees and power lines. Figures.

Our local sheriff died. Just like that. This morning. During police memorial week. Aged 52. He was a good man and law enforcement official. Puts things in perspective nowadays since I am fast approaching that half century mark.

Speaking of halfs...

I'm thinking I might try a half marathon in the fall. It's a thought. It hasn't gotten much farther than that at this time.

So isn't it funny that a person talks, posts, or plasters all over the place what is occupying their moments at the moment or their time all of the time? It's a complex problem. For instance, I talk about Eat Lean Poop Green a lot which is mostly greens in and greens out. I talk poop shit. Or I talk about the runs or running. They are just a variation of the word run. Where is my range time? Where are my gun priorities? Reading? Art? Gardening?

It's like it got sucked up in the vortex. Mother Nature is all about gun control. I think she is a liberal.

My life has amounted to poop and greens. 

Does this mean I have hit geriatric stage? 

I must get more CrossFit in those workouts because my muscles need a little something something.

Or should I say my muscles lack there of...NOT THE DREADED BAT WINGS AND BACK FAT. No, but it feels like that sometimes. I think it is the sludge of old age and everything is in slow motion in life, but fast in your mind. Like I think I am going very fast, but I'm really snail speed. I wonder what that feeling will be like when I am 70.

I'll be a rocket! In my mind.

BUT-Fat follows you and muscle keeps up with you.

I must be getting creeped out by what's behind me. Is it following me or stalking me? I don't know. It must go! I'm a poet and I know it. Clap my hands.

Right now I just want to take a nap. You know those afternoon snooze attacks? I told the front desk I wanted to celebrate Mexico and take a siesta. They did not embrace their international funny.

See how weird I can get? I think it is the B12 or the spinach. Not sure. I should conduct a study of myself.  I know, right? Scary. There I said it before you did.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

The Wild Life

I've been on the silly train for a few posts, airing my stories lined with hidden opinions on gun control issues. Well, I really didn't hide anything. There might be another part to the story. We have to show the "other side". Don't throw your theater tickets away just yet. It's coming later.

I'm going to pull one of the topics out of the silly story and get serious.

It might surprise many of you that when I was a senior in high school, I applied for the Wyoming Wildlife Scholarship. It was a big deal and involved a lot of essay questions which were all geared toward conservation, wildlife management, fish and game laws, and Wyoming's way of life. It also directed questions to sportsman and asked for an opinion on whether hunting was necessary for conservation. I didn't research anything, but wrote from how I felt and what my dad had taught me.

My application was number one. Game and Fish was so impressed, they wanted to meet me in person and sent out a couple of administrators and a warden to present me with the award. I was so honored. Although it wasn't the biggest scholarship, it was the one I cherished the most. One of the persons who shook my hand was Dave and he told me when he read my essays he had to meet me and tell me how inspiring and knowledgeable I was about fish and wildlife management and its importance to Wyoming. I was glowing that day. I still have the award certificate with his signature.

Dave and I would meet again and work some cases together. One was against the most evil man I had ever encountered. I think he still ranks number one even above the serial killers. He has since died in prison. Dave and I had a lot of fun and he was the most professional and honorable Game Warden I had ever met.

In 2005, our lives would cross again in a different path when we sued the state of Wyoming over the River War Haus. It was then I nicknamed the Wyoming Game and Fish, the Red Coats. It was fitting since they donned the red shirts and thought they were God.

Although we lost and lost big, I would do it all over again. It was a fight for conservation, preservation of an important area and fishing habitat, and an effort to bring law and order to a place they had let people run amok.

However, that is not what the Wyoming Game and Fish portrayed in the news. They claimed all of us landowners wanted to shut down a blue ribbon fishing area. Not so at all. Never mentioned anything about that. We wanted the documents and easement agreement to be enforced as written and the poachers, partiers, and abusers addressed. But to sway public opinion and have the whole state against some small landowners seemed the just thing for the State Of Wyoming to do. And so it began.

The backlash continued in person, in uniform, while on my property, in the paper, on the news for 4 years. It's the government way. I most loved the idiot editors at the local paper and how they think they ride of high horse of opinion. Well, they do...of an opinion that matters not. They are all liberals or communists we are certain as most citizens refer to them as The Red Star. I really like how the Red Coats attempted to arrest my husband at the time for driving down the road to go home, claiming he was scaring up the ducks, interfering with the hunters. Wow. Even the DA told them they were full of shit. The Sheriff ( he has since passed) got involved, my chief, and pretty much the whole universe. It was a mess.

It was then in the midst of the public disbutes they sent out Dave in an effort to be the sound negotiator and bring us to our knees, talk some sense into us. They knew we respected him as did most landowners in Wyoming.

With all due respect to Dave, we didn't stop the fight because we felt they were wrong. I still think they were even if we didn't win, but the government always wins right or wrong. I know this now and back then I had ideas of grandeur they would do the right thing. I didn't want to believe that at the time and neither did our attorneys who are the best land rights attorneys in the state. We received a whooping of reality.

Secretly, Dave had agreed with our problems being problems and trying to seek a logical solution and rightful enforcement of our land documents which were clear. His hands were tied and he was following orders. It wasn't long after that he retired and not because of our issue, but because it was his time.

It was the first glimpse of a shocking reality check when I realized the Wyoming Game and Fish had strayed from wildlife management, conservation, and environmental preservation and moved to politics and money. The day we lost the 4 year fight was a relief because it was over at the same time I was devastated that the place was going to be destroyed by people and there was nothing I could do to convince them to take care of it and be good stewards. The people knew it too, and thumbed it in our noses.

Then the divorce happened.

I was at The River War Haus by myself. If the people had hated my husband, they were going to find out I was worse to reckon with. The rumors started to circle back to me through guides and fishermen.

One old man from Minnesota came there every year at the same time and stopped for coffee when he was finished fishing for the day. I most enjoyed people like that. He praised me for my conservation and attempts to keep the land green and healthy as well as preserve the great place it was. We absolutely wanted to preserve its greatness as a blue ribbon fishing area and wildlife habitat. We also were and are great advocates of hunters and sportsman.

He was disappointed the lawsuit failed because we had high hopes for some weed control and vegetation plantings by the Game and Fish. We had offered to do it ourselves since they wouldn't fund it, but to make matters worse we were then forbidden. Of course, I didn't listen. What's more important? Noxious weed control or jail? You know, I am a hippy at heart. Our conversations were lengthy and he cherished the wildness of the west and returned every year to Wyoming and Colorado.

There were more like the Minnesota gentleman and they lifted me up when others would strike me down. I enjoyed their company and it was one time I welcomed stranger danger.

When I was at the River War Haus alone, I had no fear. I confronted people who littered, who wasted their ducks on the banks, and were driving off road. It sure didn't make the Game and Fish happy when they got complaints. I didn't care. Both my chiefs supported me full force and with their backing, and I felt I should continue to be the only enforcement there. I grew quite a reputation and word got back to me. I didn't mind. In fact, it empowered me more so. Most of the  guides didn't bother me. They felt the same as I did. There were a few who were in opposition because they were ones who abused the land and went to the paper to try to get famous. Definitely to begin with the drunk redneck idiots ruined it for everyone and those who thought it was OK to let their dogs lose and chase my horses. And so began the chaos. It subsided after a few months of me being the lone ranger.

One of my favorite days was one where I had driven home from work but I was in plain clothes with my tactical holster on my leg due to a hostage negotiation call. I had my badge around my neck. It didn't matter because at a glance I looked like one of those survivalist nut cases. Maybe it was in my eyes.

Anyway, I had noticed a rattlesnake at the end of the drive. I parked the truck and walked up to the end of the road, took out my Glock and shot the snake. Now did I kill it the first shot? Yes. Did that stop me? No. It was a snake. I had to make sure it was dead dead. I knew there was a boat full of rich fishermen with a guide next to the banks. Why? They were all rich. This guide belonged to a company which had very high profile clientele.

All I heard was, "Holy shit", and I glanced in time to see a man fall back into the boat. He was a little dramatic or maybe just startled because I was a good 50 feet from him and aimed the opposite direction and into the ground. I picked up the snake. Yes, I had my tactical gloves on because, "Ew, gross." It's a snake for Pete's sake.

The guide recognized me. "Hi, Kathryn."

I smiled and waved.

"Rattlesnake?", he asked.

"Yep," I said. Of course I held it up to reveal my nice dead snake.

I don't know what happened after that and the guide didn't flinch so he probably told his clients to get used to the Wyoming way. I secretly hoped they had peed their pants and I had guessed they probably spread the word about that crazy woman at the end of the road by the river.

Oh hell no.

This wildness and freedom I don't have in Indiana and I long for the frontier. The most I can do to express my Wyoming ways is possum control. And that is only with a shovel since I can't fire away in town. I've had my one warning about shooting in the barn.

Nuts. I say. Those east of the west don't get the west and certainly don't embrace any free way of life because they are restricted by people, concrete, and excessive rules. Farmers get it. City dwellers will never come to the common ground of those who live a little more relaxed and free of restrictions.

But is this what I am talking about with the points I try to make about quashing gun control? Unleashing crazy pioneers and Annie Oakleys? No. Not at all.

That's what the opposition would say.

Crazy bastards. They don't get it.

The funny thing is I moved closer to Annie Oakley and farther away from the wild frontier. I think she would be disappointed in the nonsense today. Well, what makes no sense is gun control and laws which restrict our constitutional freedoms of any kind.


Unless you're stupid.

Then let the government squeeze begin.

Just kidding. I don't like government squeezes.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Out of Range

I'm packed up and ready to go to the range.

Then I got told we shoot trap next week.

Do you know how disappointing that is? It's an epic letdown.

In the meantime, check out these great prices at Ammoman.com 

Bring In The Clowns

I didn't get very far down the hallway with my red cape before some FBI agents stopped me.

"Miz Fargo, our SAC wants to have a word with you if you don't mind?"

"I have a choice? Then I choose no. Starbucks is calling me."

"Uh, Miz Fargo. This way, please."

Due to their large boxy size and matching suits, it appeared I didn't have a choice. Plus, they were blocking my way. Oh, I could have pushed the issue, but what's the point? If you buck the system, they put you on the most watched list and fuck with your dogs. Or maybe they fuck the dogs. I can't remember. It's been awhile since I worked with the FBI, those dog fuckers. Actually, I knew some good agents. These appeared to dress the same but had no personality. I obliged.

The room was dimly lit just with a couple of business chairs which were surely right out of the 60's. Lurch, the big one, motioned me to the red chair.

"Budget cuts? I figured you guys would get some chairs with a little more pizazz by now. Where's the water boarding chamber?"

They were not amused.

I sat there for some time. Of course I looked around. Duh. It was a typical interview room with an institutional decor and little happiness. In fact, it was down right depressing. And the glass. I love the glass. I walked over to it and spit on my fingers to smooth my hair but I smeared it on the window. I wonder what they would do if I picked my nose and ran it down the middle...like right where the eye level is. That used to drive me nuts. I leaned my forward on the glass just like the bad guys and tried to look to the other side. I mouthed some bad words and tried to fart. Surely, I was racking up points.

After acting like an asshole didn't fancy me anymore, I took to the chair.

Before too much longer (like hours), a fat man similar to Joe Friday appeared and greeted me.

"Good day, Miz Fargo. I'm Agent Stangard. Do you mind if I have a word with you?"

"Oh, I have a choice?"

"Well, I won't take much of your time."

"You talk.I'll listen."

"Well, I would like to ask you some questions. First, how do you spell your name?"

I said nothing-waiting for my Miranda Rights. I was NOT going to ask the dumb ice breaker question, "Am I under arrest?" Duh. I had done nothing wrong.

"Miz Fargo? It's just identity."

"Big F as in eff this a-r-g-o."

Take that, Friday.

"Ok. Miz Fargo." He took out his notebook and plopped a big stack of papers down. I didn't know if they were real papers or fake papers to get me to question what was in front of me. The best thing I could do was act like I didn't give a hoot.

"Do you like guns?"

This was an odd question. I decided to stare blankly.

"Miz Fargo, it's a simple question."

"Well, not really. I mean do I like them for a purpose or do I like them as a friend? That's a big difference."

I was picturing Full Metal Jacket in my head.

"I don't really see what you mean, but I will rephrase. Miz Fargo, why do you like guns?"


"Because...could you elaborate. Because why?"

"Because. Final answer."


"Miz Fargo, I'm not here to be difficult, but just asking some simple questions. Could you please be more specific?"

"I think it is a fine answer. My mom and dad always answered with 'because' when I was a kid and now I think it fits."

"Ok. You like guns, yes or no?"

"It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"For what purpose. I don't like a .22 rifle for duck hunting."


"You just finished in a senate hearing with the committee on gun control. How many firearms do you think are adequate for one person to own?"

"I have to put a number on it? I choose to pass that question. I'll take world history for 200, Alex. Is this a game show? Like Jeopardy only not with trivia or any smart questions?"

He was not amused. It seemed this was a serious "chat" and not just an informal  "Hi, How are you doing? We used to be cops." type of conversation. I needed to find out where this was going and be careful not to tread on the lawyer questions. I mean, WTF? Did they not like my red cape? Surely they were not the fashion police nor jealous of my bold attire? I think it made a statement.

"You didn't like my red cape, did you?"

Clearly ignoring me like a husband, he moved to his questioning.

"Do you think, Miz Fargo, there is a type of overkill attitude with those who own high powered rifles with rapid fire capability?"

"Does it make me look fat?"


"My cape?"

"Miz Fargo. I don't give a shit about your cape. Is there a type of overkill attitude with those who own high powered rifles with rapid fire capability? Isn't it true those are the people who want to kill or are up to something sinister?"

"Are you really Hillary Clinton dressed as a man?"


"If so, I see the likeness."

"Miz Fargo."

"These are not questions normal cops ask. It feels like a set up."

"I understand your frustration. We are here just to sort out some additional concerns and try to find better solutions so we can resolve the issue."

"First of all, that is negotiation language 101 BULLSHIT. Don't give me that soft language. Resolve what issue? I don't have issues. You might have issues. You should get them fixed."

"We are trying to find a solution to all these active shooting incidents."

"Don't you have a Behavioral Science unit? Why don't you get your smarty brains on it? And what does figuring out a mentally broken person have to do with gun control? Don't you study each case down to the last few years or entire life of the suspect to figure out the path they took and why?"

"Well, uh."

"You aren't really FBI agents."

"What? Yes we are."

"Where's Fox Mulder?"


"Show me Fox Mulder and I might believe you."

"He isn't real."

"Neither are you."

This was so fun! I think he was getting genuinely miffed.

"How many serial killers are you tracking right now?" Clearly steering them on a different path. Duh.

"Uh, that is classified information."

"John Douglas says there are between 35 and 50."

Stangard's face was getting red. I could tell this was not the direction he wanted to go.

"Do you think mostly women or mostly men are the victim targets. And mostly college aged?"

"Miz Fargo. I would like to get back to the topics."

"John Douglas says you have a matrix of all these serial killers. Are most of them wiry long-haul truckers or are they slumpy fat guys who drive a white van? I bet most of them live in mommy's basement. When a cop makes a stop on a white van, do you think that a shovel should be PC that you might have a serial killer? John Douglas says religion is part of the facade in their minds. What do you think?"

"John Douglas Smouglas. He doesn't work for us anymore! All he is a glorified fat guy who travels around trying to make big news and extort money from these poor families. Just like Mark Fuhrman! It is embarrassing!"

"Man, you are kind of bitter about that. Go ahead. Tell me more. I can understand those who retire think they are know it alls and big shots. Talk to me."

"That's right. While we sit here in the trenches and they try to glorify themselves as the best FBI agent or best cop in all of time and they get paid millions. Meanwhile I sit here making middle class wages. It's bullshit."

"Yep. I totally get that. I..."

The metal door slammed open and in came Mr. Chairman.

"Stangard. Leave, you buffoon. It's obvious you can't do anything right."

"Hey, Stangard. Just so you know...in the 90's John Douglas did a profile on a missing person case which I got assigned to in 2004. His profile was all wrong and such a general summation of anyone in the US that I laughed when I read it. A six grader could have written it."

"Thanks, Fargo. You're alright in my books."

The door slammed shut behind him and I was face to face with Mr. Chairman all dolled up in his suit and long trench coat like he was fucking Batman. Well, maybe he was. I don't know. Batman is pretty private and doesn't keep a girl long.

About right then, I figured things were going to get interesting...

Monday, May 11, 2015

The Inquisition

"Welcome committee members and guests. We will begin again where we left off with questions directed at Miz Fargo. Before the first question is posed, do we have any business to address?"

Silent head shaking and denies from the crowd.

"Ok. I will give the first question of the day to confront the proposed legislation on limiting the amount of bullets in a clip and clip capacity. Miz Fargo, would you please respond?"

At first, my irritability meter went into high gear. I don't know what took over me, but my dad's words were ringing in my ears unheard, "Kathryn, no one likes a smartass." I didn't hear him or I ignored him. I frantically started taking out my hair clips and placing them on the podium.

"Mr. Chairman, with all due respect, I came here with 15 hair clips which held my hair in a nice bun. I have a lot of hair. You never knew they were in there. I just removed 5 of them. I look pretty stupid. It's dumb hair."

"Uh. Miz Fargo, I don't understand what your hair clips have to do with our discussion here today. Could you please tackle the issues."

"Clips are for hair. Or paper. Magazines are for firearms and hold ammunition. I know it's word magic in your eyes, but it's just a pet peeve. It's just as frustrating as calling margarine butter. And my hair clips were a demonstration.  You want to limit the magazines to 10 rounds. And you want to make it unlawful to have larger capacity magazines. Why? To save 5 less people? How so? Or are you worried that the paper targets are wasteful and this is an environmental issue? I wish I could wrap my brain around the sense you are trying to make here, but I can't. It's dumb. Like my hair right now. I think your efforts to limit firepower are aimed at the wrong solutions. "

After making no sense, I started to fix my hair so the next question could be prepared. I didn't know what I was saying. I needed coffee. My mind channeling was not functioning and the neurons were misfiring rapidly. It was like a crack withdrawal.

"Uh, Mr. Chairman, could I trouble you for some coffee? Black. Rocket fuel preferred."

"Sure. Ellenore, could we get Miz Fargo some coffee? Miz Fargo, we have some follow up on that clip capacity...er...magazine capacity question. First, we must limit a person's capability to have rapid fire for pubic safety. Do you not agree? Second, why must any citizen have military grade firearms or high firepower?"

"Mr. Chairman, I can understand your concern for public safety. I have the same concerns but different directions. How is a magazine size limitation going to change a criminal mind? How is 10 rounds going to change a mentally disturbed teen from shooting up his classroom? It is not. To address your other question...why not? Why can't sportsman have rapid fire? Why can't citizens have military firearms? They have done nothing to prevent their ownership. We can't blanket all good citizens for the few stupid rednecks and criminals who abuse their freedoms and choose to conduct violence. Those have to be addressed with the judicial system. You are limiting the 2nd Amendment and bending things because something temporary becomes permanent and once you ban magazine size, then what? What is next? I think it is a just an introduction to what comes in the future. It is scary to think our free speech is being suppressed and it is. Look around you. Look at the world today. Our right to bear arms is being compressed to a small allowable package. Why? For what good? Why can't I have an AR 15 with high firepower capacity? Why can't I have a silencer? You assume these are for some sinister deed and not for sport and enthusiasm of a machine. Show me how this is going to stop violent behavior. Show me how this is going to change a drug dealer into a hard working and productive citizen. Once again...the bad guy does not play by the rules. You limit good citizens. I feel like this is a deposition. Am I on trial?"

"Mis Fargo. We are trying to protect the police. We are trying to protect citizens from themselves. It is safety. Americans have to come first. And why wouldn't you want a silencer outlawed? Those are for assassins."

"Well, I agree our safety is a concern. It isn't safety against firearms. It's safety against ourselves.  But you need to resolve the issues of the decline of the family structure, the coping skills and mental well being of our kids, and fix our justice system, reform our prison system. When I was a police officer, I assumed everyone had a gun. Did that make me frisk all and be super invasive? No. I was just cautious. I grew up the western way, so I guess it never scared me, but made me more aware of safety and my surroundings. As far as the silencer thingy...if you are going to shoot me, I could care less if you have a silencer or not. If you are going to do it, I'm going to be dead. Loud dead or quiet dead makes no difference. Will it delay someone getting caught? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Will it encourage more bad guys? Do you really think all local drug dealing burglars are trained assassins? I think not. I think it's kind of nice my neighbor has a silencer in use while I am jamming out to Eminem because I really don't like my rap therapy interrupted by noise. And it could save us all some hearing problems."

Yeah. Deer in the headlights.

No one likes a smartass, Kathryn.

"Uh. I see no point to this. Next up for discussion is tighter background checks and firearms safety classes for permit carriers. Fargo?"

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Firearms safety classes are brilliant. Let's offer them to everyone in America and make age groups appropriateness and offer them at a very low cost or free. It's a choice. It's free education. Let's educate everyone. Let's not make it mandatory for permit carriers. I don't mind the class, but you are making it a punishment rather than an incentive. Tighter background checks. What do you mean? Define yourself. Can it be done while you wait? Sure. But don't make these parameters an infringement. Don't make it hard. You are trying to deter people, not make sure the guns are in the right hands. Think about your bills and pass smart legislation."

"Miz Fargo...I am going to direct the next question to Mr. Connecticut. Sir?"

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Good morning, Miz Fargo. I would like to ask what you think we should do about those who have been convicted of family violence and those who have not relinquished their firearms. What about those who fail to register their firearms?"

"Good morning, Mr. Connecticut. The simple answer to those questions is all that is whack. You don't have the manpower or money to round up firearms nor the right to do so. A man's home is his castle. If a person convicted of domestic violence has firearms, that is an ATF problem you created because you extended the felony limitation to domestic violence. In theory, this is a great idea. As a local cop, we could only refer those cases to federal level unless the person was convicted of a violent felony. Fraud, domestic violence of most simple assault convictions, counterfeiting, identity theft, etc. are not covered under most state statutes, but all are covered under federal law. How far do you want to go? And if you choose to prosecute only select ones, aren't you being unfair, unjust? Maybe you need to go back to the drawing board to fix that problem.

Now to address the domestic violence issue. These laws matter not to the person who abuses their family members. They will find another way to do their harm. It's a cycle. I think this law, in theory, is good because it has a high penalty for a bad choice. A dark cloud of consequences, if you will and might make people think twice about hitting others. But you don't enforce it. And my hands are tied.

Lastly, the gun roundup. Are we cattle?  Who is going to stand at the station and sign up all those who voluntarily relinquish their guns? No one is coming. No one wants their name on anther piece of police paperwork. They would rather sell them for money or hide them, save them for their kids. Or they might say they are now their wives' property and then you have nothing.

As far as me registering my old firearms. Not going to happen. Why should I? You have that opportunity to have a record when I buy new, because I signed that piece of paper and I have to go through a check. I get that. Plus it is a liability issue for anyone with an FFL selling firearms. Ok. No problem. I accept.

But now, you want people in your state to come forward and register certain firearms? Why not all of them so they can be a burglary target or a target in your eyes? Why are certain firearms acceptible and others are not? Should I tell you about my chef knives or just my steak knives? You are going to label me or flag me or make my life miserable when I have done nothing wrong? Or you just 'want to know' who has certain firearms out there? Maybe you might start monitoring people. I know. I know. You are shaking your heads at my paranoia. But are those conspiracy theorists wrong?

You penalize those who are found guilty of failure to register even though they have not broken any other law? Arbitrary searches? Random search warrants? Let's now stomp all over the 4th Amendment. You are crippling yourself. Did you gain a lot of friends by that act?"

"Well, now, there is no need for theatrics, Mis...er.."

"Are you going to answer those questions, Senator?"

"Uh. Moving along. I would like to address hunting issues. In my state, we are small and people are getting killed by stray bullets. We need to limit what they can shoot. Might be looking at putting a slug in a handgun which can only travel 20 feet. What do you think, Miz Fargo. I welcome your comments."

"Really? How many? Never heard of stray bullets because they come from some where and some firearm and were fired by some one. They aren't just zinging through the woods willy nilly by themselves."

"That's. Uh. Miz Fargo, you are twisting my words."

"First, I understand you may have to restrict certain firearms and ammunition for hunting because of your populated area. You might want to research which will take an animal down. Perhaps you may have areas where tree stands are necessary or bow hunting or slug restrictions. I would caution you on how far you go and why. If it is because of population, distance, and herd control, then I would say that is fair avenues to research.

Hunting is a necessity for herd control. For example, hunting has a key in all wildlife management, healthy vegetation management, conservation, and disease control. It provides healthy food opportunities and there is some sport in trophy hunting, yes. Irresponsible and unlawful hunters and sportsman should be punished according to the law. The entire populace should not suffer from the idiotic decisions of a few unsafe people. Very few.

Hunters, in my opinion, are some of the most responsible gun owners because they cherish their rights and they know they are under the microscope. They are familiar with firearms and probably practice more often than police officers and sharp shooters. You already hurt us in the pocket with higher ammo costs and firearm prices. Hunting licenses constantly climb and the cost of hunting became more expensive for me to hunt wild game for food than to buy meat at the store. It's sad, really. I remember the 70's when our family hunted for food. Yes, we had those animals which were trophies mounted on our walls as well, but we did not waste the animal. It was better for us and saved us money. Even trophy hunters will donate the meat.

In some states, you make it impossible to donate meat to charity, claiming food safety. Why can't they run it through an approved meat processing facility? Why deny this good food? Because you can? Because it is another way to show hunters are wasteful and shoot animals only for their head? I think it is you who are wasteful.  You would rather a hunter wastes an animal than it to go to a homeless shelter? That is some of the best food those people could have. But you would rather supply them with processed foods and refined sugars. By creating these laws or bans or high prices on ammunition, you are undermining America. For what purpose does this really serve you? Are you solving something for the greater good? Or are you squishing something out you don't agree with or are afraid of?"

"Thank you, Miz Fargo. The next question is directed to Mr. California."

"Thank you, Mr. Connecticut. Miz Fargo, I have proposed smart guns are the only firearms which could be sold, traded, or given in the state of California. Are you familar with this device?"

"Yes, Mr. California, I am familiar with the concept. I feel the same about smart guns as I do about spoons."

"Excuse me? Could you clarify?"

"Spoons make me fat."

"Very well, Miz Fargo. I see your sarcasm. Could you please comment on the actual question?"

Long pause.

"Miz Fargo?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry. I couldn't get that Total Recall robot out of my head. Safety first! You know the movie? With your governor?"

"Uh. Yes."

"I would like to know how I could get Kate Beckinsale hair. Her hair in that movie was great. I have a picture. I carry it with me. It's on my board."

"Miz Fargo. I think we should stick to the issues here at hand. I asked you about smart guns."

"Smart guns are stupid. I laugh."

"Excuse me?"

"I really don't have anything else to add to that preposterous idea. Do all you senators in California smoke from the same plant?"

"Uh. I think we would like a discussion on these devices."


"I thought you liked weed. You want me answer about this magic device? So no unauthorized person could shoot a gun?"


"What is so funny, Miz Fargo?"

"I think you have watched Judge Dredd too many times."

"Miz Fargo this is a serious matter. I don't appreciate your snarkiness."

"That word is not recognized by Spellcheck."


"You're right, Mr. California. Guns are too dangerous for you. Perhaps some martial arts? Do not go gentle into that good night. You might want to make a choice not to own or fire any firearms. May the odds ever be in your favor."

(slams notebook down, stomps out, exits stage right, runs into Secret Service agent)

"Excuse me."

Nods my way.

Hands me my cape.