Evidence 101

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







Friday, May 22, 2015

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.

Wait....



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:

Nope.
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.

Literally.

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


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

Really.

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.

"MURPHY MADE ME SO MAD!"

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



"Well, what happened?"

"I TOOK MURPHY OUTSIDE TO POOP. AND I WALKED HIM AROUND!"

"Could you use your inside voice?"

"I AM USING MY INSIDE VOICE! HE DIDN'T POOP AND THE MINUTE I TOOK HIM INSIDE, HE POOPED AND IT'S STUCK TO HIS BUTT! IT IS SO GROSS!"

"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."

"NO! NO! I AM NOT TOUCHING THAT. HE IS GOING TO WEAR IT UNTIL YOU ARE HOME! HURRY! FAST! I CAN'T TAKE IT! IT STINKS! HIS BUTT IF FULL OF POO!"

(fake hyperventilating)

"Stop it. You are being ridiculous."

"I AM SERIOUS! I MIGHT PASS OUT!"

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

"OH GROSS! I'M GOING TO LOCK MYSELF IN MY ROOM UNTIL YOU GET HOME!"

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

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYONE. YOU ARE STALLING! GET HOME!"

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

CreepFit

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.



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.

Period.

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 

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."

"Why?"

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

(giggling)

"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."

"What?"

"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.


Friday, May 8, 2015

Dragon Ballz and Senate Committees

It was an unusual phone call. I mean, who would think to call me to such an important event. I was in awe and somewhat flabbergasted. The Internet is a funny thing.

They said they wanted opinions from someone who had been in law enforcement, lived different places, and was a firearms enthusiast. Well, I don't jump up and down at the sight of guns. That would alarm Democrats. But I do a happy dance in my head. So, after a little contemplation, I obliged.

It was very frustrating blowing the dust off my suits and trying to look presentable. Couldn't I just look Midwestern? Maybe I could present them with a casserole. 

Finally the day came with many butterflies and anticipation. I think the Monarchs were having a party in there.  I popped a few tums and swigged some coffee before leaving for the big deal. The taxi pulled up and I got shuffled to my place via several official looking people. 

"Mr. Chairman. Good morning." I was pretty sure there were frogs in my throat.

"Good morning, ma'am. Let me preface this by saying you may be cut off at any time, so use your time wisely. You may be asked questions from the committee throughout the morning. If we feel we have heard enough, we will dismiss you for the day and thank you for your time. We appreciate you participating in this discussion."

I nodded and smiled because the frog had jumped from the back of my throat to the front. I thought I was going to puke. He continued.

"Today we are discussing points of opposition today on gun control matters. Miz, uh...Loving, is it? What a nice name." I'm pretty sure he was being coy. Wait until he heard me speak on gun control. He would be like...WTF...Loving...that woman should be called Dragon Ballz. I was talking to myself in my head and had to interrupt so I could get all the instructions down.

"Do you have any questions at this time before we begin, ma'am?"

"No, sir. Thank you."

"Well, then, we will allow you to give a short preamble to our topics today. Once you have completed your statement, we will follow up with some questions if any of the members feel they need to clarify points or argue facts of law, concepts, or proposed bills and clauses."

All I heard was "Santa Clauses." There was more than one? My mind was focusing on my papers.

"Miz, Loving, or should we call you Fargo? How did you get the name Fargo?"

I was not prepared for that question. I just rattled off my story of my pregnancy and the members were facing me with intense stares. At least that's what it looked like. Maybe they were going over their grocery lists in their minds. I had no idea. I just rattled on because they asked. Then I was done.

"That pretty much sums it up. Yeah."

I waited for them to wake up.

"Uh. Thank you, Miz Fargo."

I nodded with a weak smile. 

*crickets*

"You may start your introduction into our gun control topics now, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman, and ladies and gentlemen of the committee. Gun control is a hot topic. I understand the people of the nation want safety and less violence in our society. What I don't understand is the means to the end. 

You can't tie up the good guys to defeat the bad guys. It just doesn't work that way. With all due respect, these bills you are proposing do just that. I worked in the trenches. Believe me when I tell you the bad guys will find a way to get a weapon of some sort, to commit crime, to violate persons. They don't play by the rules. In fact, they like to skirt around them and often. Rules are for those of us who live by law and order. The criminals do not. So what have you done? You sent out the good guys with their hands tied behind their backs and limit them. They abide by your rules because that is how they live and they fear the alternative of fines, jail, or prison. What you fail to see is the worst punishment for law abiding citizens is to disarm them forever. If I lost my gun rights, it would be the biggest defeat of my civil liberties. But what did you do to put the squeeze on the bad? Nothing. Nothing changed. You have heard time and time again that guns don't kill people. People kill people. Whether they use a firearm, knife, bat, club, crow bar, or their bare hands...that is just the instrument. It's like you are trying to cover up a broken bone with a band aid. You have to go to the root of the problem. 

Our system is broken. Prison only works for those who are there for life because they are contained. It doesn't prevent re-offending. In fact, statistics are low on those who actually are rehabilitated criminals.

"Excuse me, Miz Fargo. Could you give me some statistical numbers on those prisoners. How do we incentivize them? What mental health processees are in place, etc?"

"The answer to your first question, Mr. Chairman, is no. I'm not going to rattle off useless numbers. I'm going to tell you what they tell me. It doesn't work. Sex offenders can't be rehabilitated. They are the exception to every rule. As far as the other criminals-convicts-some grew up in the life of crime or from the ghetto or are the product of broken families with abuse, etc. They have a difficult time adjusting to anything other than what they know. They go back home to the same circles. They can't get out. Their rehabilitation or "good time" while out is temporary at best. Some do succeed. Those are the ones you need to pool. What is broken? What is an incentive? You tell me. Here's the process when they get out: They have limited job opportunities. They can't vote. They have no income. They have no home. They have no food. Where do they go? Homeless shelters, wander around with no place to stay except on the street-drumming up desperate thoughts, home to their parents or other family which may or may not be a good place, shack up with a quick fix lover off the streets, get into the drug scene on the street corner and go to a flop house. Maybe they found a pen pal in prison. Who knows. They may check in with their probation officer for a short while or keep that on the up and up while behind the scenes, they check back in where they left off. What do we have in place for them? Not much. What if they kill their number? Then there are no services or assistance. So don't talk about my friends, Remington, Winchester, and Glock. I have done nothing wrong to restrict their friendship. They have done nothing wrong to restrict my access to them. Not everyone can be Chuck Norris and there is always someone bigger and stronger than him. Then what? And that's not even the basis of the 2nd amendment rights. Are you then going to limit hunting? Sports shooting? Let's talk about what is broken. It isn't the device. It's the system. It's the people. Fix the people. Fix the system. It's a simple answer to a complex problem."

"Thank you, Miz Fargo. Uh...we do have some questions. The first question I will propose to you is what about home safety laws? And state laws to protect citizens against unlawful uses of firearms?"

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Those are good questions and I'm glad you asked me them specifically because I have experience in law enforcement with those very elements. As far as the home safety laws, I am assuming the proposed laws on penalties for those who do not lock up their guns or for some reason have some haphazard recklessness. Also, the concept is floating out their among lawmakers to have home inspections on gun owners and a national data base. First of all, those are ridiculous solutions. You are not going to freely come into my home because I own a gun or 40 nor are you going to make me sign in blood that since I bought this new firearm, the US of A can now come in and inspect me, my home, my firearms on a whim. Nope. Really. Because you own a Shih Zhu, and you signed the breeding papers, did you just open your home up for random searches and inspections?"

"Well, Miz Fargo. Shih Zhus are really not the same as a gun...uh..er...I don't understand your viewpoints here."

"No, sir. They are EXACTLY the same. They are both a piece of property. It's that simple. You can preach safety and best practices, but you can't make the horse drink the water."

"Uh...ma'am. I think we are getting off track."

"I could make a dog attack you just like you will argue the gun is dangerous. What's the difference."

"Uh, Miz Fargo, that is a bizarre analogy."

"Let me readdress these issues. First, gun storage laws and charging the gun owners. You can fine or charge a person with reckless disregard or reckless endangerment or whatever law you devise, but you must seek these penalties on a case by case basis. You can't blanket Americans. Every state law is so jacked up, that I don't know if I am coming or going. Especially with concealed carry laws. So...in some states, I can transport my firearms to and from the range to home, but if I stop for a burger or go to the grocery store and somehow get involved with the police, I could get arrested? Dumb. And unfair. In others, it's open carry. Some states have laws where you can't transport your firearm to your vehicle unless is it is a proper case, unloaded, and Guido brings the ammo in a separate locked container. This is where you need to clean up the place. Why not make a universal carry conceal permit? Why not look at the open carry states? Is that the way to go for all the land. My easy answer is yes. However, you have naysayers, so you have to come to a middle ground. And who are they? I will go out on a limb and say the naysayers are those afraid of guns. Period. Most of the time it is because they are unfamiliar. Why are they so afraid? I am not familiar with a Ferrari, but am I afraid of it? If I get behind the wheel, will I desire to go so fast I might kill myself or others? We should outlaw all Ferrari's and in fact...we somewhat do here. Do you see this makes as much sense as gun control? Most can't wrap their head around it."

"Ok. Ok. Miz Fargo. Most of us see your point there. Enough with the theatrics. Do you think we should arm the schools? Arm the nation? Free reign nation here we come."

"No. I bet you are surprised by that answer. Not every person is equipped with emotional intelligence and not every person wants to carry nor are they able to do so. And some idiots want to carry but should not. How do we fix this problem? Take their choice away? Not wise. Do I think we should keep guns out of school and the courthouse? No. As a law enforcement officer if a weapon got into court, I could not protect the judge or jury or watchful citizens because my firearm was stripped. But I had to stand in front of the masses in uniform with an empty holster. Chew on that. Again. The good guys play by the rules, the criminals do not. And the schools? They are defenseless. We put temporary cops in there, unarmed security guards, and school resource officers. Has it helped? Perhaps in some cases. Do we arm the teachers? I don't know. How about some ALICE training? How about giving them some education? How about visiting other solutions rather than taking away?"

"Your points are noted. Now Madam California has a question for you. I redirect the next question to Madam California."



"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Thank you, Miz Fargo, for your time here today. My first question is what do you think about mental health restrictions on permits and ownership of firearms?"

I knew this lady was a hard ass and I am not a fan. Names have been excluded to protect the non-innocent.

"Thank you, Madam California. I'm glad to see you are still alive. (fake kindness) I guess, let me answer that with a question. Are you prepared to exclude your entire state?"

*crickets*

Maybe I went a little too far with that one.



"In all fairness, Madam California, who is going to determine fairness, just, and right standards of mental illness? How far is too much and how little is your low baseline? You are labeling people, probably forever and restricting their freedoms. Will it affect job opportunities? Will it disqualify them for something else? You can't come up with a band aid fix because you have to appease the masses. You must see the forest for the trees. I agree a severely disturbed mentally ill person should not have access to firearms, but to treatment, to care, to services. Perhaps a different hobby. Are you also going to limit that person to other weapons. Should he join the circus as the knife throwing act? See...where do you stop? Where do you start? These things need to be thought through. Plus you also have the conspiracy theorists who will never believe this is done as a precaution, but is a premeditated plan to something bigger. Will you stake your legacy on that? Madam California, why are you scared of guns? Have you ridden along with a police officer? Have you attended a firearms class? Have you ever gone hunting or sports shooting? Do you practice proper firearms safety? How many guns do you own? Where are they? If I go steal one out of your house, which crime do I charge you with? And just so you know, for stealing that gun, I'll be out in 6 months and I'll do it again. You might lose your gun rights for life and mark your reputation, among other consequences. I digress. What if you have depression and have to get professional treatment and medication? What if it is a temporary problem. You might want to give up your vehicle because you could be impaired. You might want to tell the people of the US because you can't make sound decisions for 6 months until you get better. After that, are they going to want you anymore to represent their state? "

"Hmm. Thank you, Miz Fargo. I am going to direct the next question to Mr. Connecticut. Sir."

"Thank you Madam California. Miz Fargo, I have one question. What about Sandy Hook? What am I supposed to take back to the great people of Connecticut? They want answers, solutions, and what do you say to that? Guns are evil and they want them removed."

"Well, Mr. Connecticut. They belong to the same United States I belong to and so they also have the same Constitution which governs me. Is anything going to make those parents feel better? I think not. Why do we have to do anything? Because you feel obligated? It was a tragedy for sure. But do we have to appease them with laws which do not work? Which are unfair? Are we doing a disservice if we in fact hand them a band aid instead of a cure? And the cure is not to eliminate guns from America. The cure it is to fix the cancer. Fix the mental health services, care facilities, prison systems. Put laws which make sense on the books. What you can do on the prevention side: more cops per capita, tougher penalties on violent crime,  proper penalties for the crime, social services, healthy outlets for kids, community projects and partnerships, and repair the judicial system, correctional systems, increase law enforcement pay scales, benefits and training-just to name a few.

On the outside of the walls- halfway homes, rehabilitation services, release programs, occupational training, probation and parole, etc. Oh, you will poo-poo me and say these are already in place or they cost money. Really. You will put a price on a life? Just one life. What's the price? Fix the damn problem at the source. Because one mentally ill teenager slipped through the cracks due to his parents being aloof, fed up, maxed out or oblivious is where you might need to start. Or was it- he didn't get the right care or was treated poorly? These are not reasons to shut guns out of your state. It is a reason to look at why. Why did this happen? Could the schools have done more? Did we have the right care? Was it money? Who failed to reach out? Do we have our heads in the sand? Was it bad parenting? Drill down. Look deeper."



"Thank you, Miz Fargo. Um...we are going to take a recess and resume again tomorrow morning. All parties are expected to return again at 0800. Thank you to all committee members. Good day, Miz Fargo. We will see you again tomorrow."

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Chairman. My hotel room was for one night. Who do I speak to for an extension? And I would really like to include some meals. Would it be too much trouble for happy hour?"








Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Lot Q

Whew.

I feel a little more less cracky today. The B12 may have evened out a little. The neurons seem to be firing in alignment so my mind channeling is a little less random and ping pong bally as WSF would say. Next time I'm going to ask the doc to give me the shot in one of the legs instead of the left arm so I run faster. Good thing she didn't give it to me in the mouth. Imagine that one.

Saturday as you know, I embarked on a dangerous journey and opted for a DQ burger with my friends because...well...there was nothing healthy on the menu, so I jumped right out of that plane into burgers. It took two days for me to not have stomach pains and the running sharts. I shit you not.

Fargo needs to go shopping. Said no one ever. 

I stomped to the bathroom in disgust a couple times. Maybe more. But not too much, because it shakes things up a bit. And then you have a mess. I might have even ran there.

I was certain Baltimore rioters had set up camp in my gut and were there for two days too many. Painful twangs occurred at inopportune moments, but I muscled through it. Although I have gone off the proper food train before, I never experienced such a lengthy derailment. Perhaps it was a hard lesson learned...once again. Is it worth it anymore? For that one sugar cookie or that one chicken strip?

Ah. NOOO.

Is it going to happen again?

Inevitably. It's how I work. I'm a cycle.

It got me thinking that fast food burgers are mad of angry cows and not the nice docile type you get at the food market. It's like the funny farm for meat...all the psycho, diseased, and federal incarcerated Angus get put in one place and sent over to processing together in a lot I will call "Q" for quarazy. That's the Fargo spelling of "crazy" which gived extra emphasis on the meaning of it. Super inflated crazy begins with "q".

These bovine must be separated from those who can maintain straight lines and poop in a nice pile rather than all over their asses. Lot Q are those you know when you see them. They lay or stand in the middle of the road and look at you without a blink thinking to themselves, "Go ahead and tap that ass and see what it does to your car." Then they snort a little. Perhaps you have to drive around them, while they give you the stare down, but they make no effort to move their fat asses out of the way. Excessive honking does not work. They are not deaf. They are ODD (oppositional defiance disorder).

The top of the line Lot Q's are the ones who run little children out of corrals and throw cowboys off their backs at rodeos. They might even break fences because they are too stupid to know that barb wire is the universal cow sign for "stop".

Meanwhile, the prime cows which make great steaks and super burgers are on the grassy knoll switching their tails in happiness.

Yeah, I didn't get one of those Happy Cows.

Last night at about 10:00 PM, I ran for an hour outside in the farm country. It was bliss with the smell of fresh black dirt as the fields had been worked and nearby flowers. The stars were out, no wind, and the air was just right although thick with humidity, as I moved along in the 75 degree-ish weather. I sliced through it with my ninja speed. Not really, but is sounded good.

God hit me on the head with a 2 x 4.

Just like that.

Being homesick tugs at your heart like you lost your best friend. It is really painful if you let it go on.

I needed to stop longing for home. I needed to bloom where I am planted. One day I will return to the west, but for now, this is where I am. I needed to make the most of it.

When I returned back, I admired the Harry Potter House in all its peeling paint. It looked happy. And loved. As I ran past the east side of the house back to the barn, my lilacs were fragrant. They are a flower which will forever remind me of my childhood back on the ranch. It took me to a good place.

Not this place.


And after smelling the damp old wood of the barn and finishing my workout, I went back inside. Bug was in bed. The puppies were wagging their tails waiting for me. I petted their furry little heads and kissed their butt smelling faces.

Happiness.

The secret to happiness is accepting where you are and making the most out of each day.


Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Banana Code

No sleep for the wicked. My sleep pattern from last night looks like an EKG reading from an inch worm trying to make its way across America. Yep. I have no idea where that analogy came from, but it rolled write off my fingers onto this screen. Lucky you.

Wallah!

I can pretty much tell the pretty pink bars are during the episodes of hail, rain, pouring rain, thunder, wind, and anything else Mother Nature drummed up over night. This was even audible over the air conditioner noise and Moose's snoring. Pink is pretty, except not in sleep graphs.

B12 crack takes 10-12 days to kick in for all those wondering about the shots. They last about 15-18 days and then you have a crack dump before your next one. Right now I am in the prime of the up swing, in case you hadn't noticed.

If you have been keeping up with the news, you will see the war on cops continues which saddens me so and we have lost more men in blue this week. Dirty rotten thugs. *shudder* I used a new forbidden word. Seriously, the PC Police need to stop. I have no problem throwing out derogatory and racist words from our dictionaries, but thug? Wow.

I really can't process all the hate and uprising yet, but it's like a train wreck...you can't look away. And the police lives lost, although down from last year so far, seem to be more violent -sudden occurring during arrest or random attacks or planned ambushes.

Something useful you might need is the Banana Code which my student just informed me is 4011 and it is universal at any store. You know, that code you punch in if you bunch o' bananas does not scan properly? Yep. Love her. Random useful information. I may never forget this one.  How many of you knew that?

My ears are ringing right now from too much caffeine. I have really cut back and not by choice but by pure coincidence. As is nationally known, I am a coffee freak and connoisseur. I added more water to my Eat Lean Poop Green lifestyle and thus, it eliminated my all day coffee binging. In fact, I now have about 2-3 small cups unless it is a weekend. Weird. I might want to get that checked.

This post is bouncing all over the place like my mind channeling due to the B12 and caffeine interfacing which causes neurons to misfire. By the end of this wall of text, you should be fully funded in information-trivial-as it may be. I give knowledge-free of charge. I'm a giver-sharer- of sorts.

CreativityCards on Etsy is a woman from Gillette, Wyoming making her mark on the world. She is brilliant and definitely an A+ in humor. I found the ones I liked the most were similar to: "I would so make you my prison wife." Just trying to spread some love and happiness, fun stuff and raising up my Wyoming peeps around the world. Get yours on her Etsy shop.  This is a non-solicited plug. I don't even know the woman, but our mind channeling is right on target and she must be part of my tribe of Weirdos.

I just stole a console from my students because it cluttered their office. I made an out loud (announcement of sorts) in jest that the person with the most desk components was the brainiest of all in the office. Uh, yeah. That's me. I have the biggest desk and the most components which means I have the most smarts by default. Yeah. No one laughed or even broke a smirk. They are so intense on typing that it was like my work husbands ignoring me.

Well, I'm off to potty. Again. Too much coffee. Ta ta for now!


Monday, May 4, 2015

#coptopics

My new coin phrase for the serious side=cop topics and transformed into the land of Twitter and Instagram= #coptopics. I'm getting jiggy with techknow. That's another coin phrase for tech knowledge, or social media know how. I do not even pretend to be able to keep up with Instagram, Snapchat, Tinder, and all that other jazz. Besides, who has time for that?

So...I am going to talk about cop topics. That's all good except there isn't much new.

I, who have nothing....


We interrupt this broadcast to give you a little Candace who took Ben E. King's masterpiece and made it contemporary with the old still shining through...



Police are under fire each day as our country is making some serious changes of face. It concerns me we are moving to a very dangerous time of civil unrest. It may be reminisce of the 60s with defined contemporariness (that is a word) which leaves me with queasy.

It is Police Week, which leads up to one of the most honored days...marking Police Memorial Day on May 15th for the 34th annual law enforcement memorial for the blue line. It is a big hoopla...that is a big deal (in case you didn't know what hoopla  meant) in law enforcement and a very well done national commemoration in honor of fallen comrades. My flags are out in full force and stay up.

I noticed there is a new Blue Line American flag. What do you think of that?

I don't know what to make of it. I'm still on the fence. I like the thought of honoring the police officers, but at the same time the American flag is the American flag. I'm not fancy (for my only personal tastes and home decor) on any type of spin on the good 'ol red, white, and blue. I like traditional. I think flying a separate blue line flag is better with the American flag by itself, higher of course. It is just me. I know that response will get a lot of boo hiss.

Speaking of American and good 'ol stuff....May I just say, Rest In Peace, Ben E. King. Loved his music, forever more. I grew up with it, so it brings back childhood memories of good and living on the ranch, fishing, and riding in the truck with dad-windows down-no AC back then-jamming out. And how many movies has Stand By Me been in? I don't know...but it is a classic great song.  There were many moments late at night when I patrolled in residential areas that I would put on the classics and jam out to oldies. King pretty much dominated the music play list along with the other King-Elvis. Until the end of time, this will be one of my favorites...


In the national news, we are hearing about shootings and crazy assed people going off in public. WTF, over? I don't know if I will ever "get used" to the violence in the news. Never before have I longed to go back to the 70s and 80s of innocent times just to savor the peace. Or could I get a rich benefactor to buy me a nice spread out west in Buffalo, Wyoming in the wilderness equipped with a well built log home and hot tub? Is that too much?

How about this ROCKET SCIENTIST?


Not the sharpest crayon in the box.

So what do you think of the charges against the 6 officers in Baltimore? Here is an article on it from ABC News.  Do you think the charges are appropriate or did the prosecutor over charge the police?

The social media challenge to stomp on the flag. Grr. I am so disgusted at the lack of respect from Americans. It's no wonder we are sliding down the scale from powerhouse to nincompoops. I am sure the other nations waiting to take our place are glowing with big smiles at the deterioration of our country and how nincompoopitis is taking over in an epidemic wave across the nation.

Ok. Now I have succeeded in making myself irritated. Tomorrow-gardening news.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Out of the Mouths of Nincompoops

Michael Moore, you silly goose.

He was a lunch money kid. 

Out of the mouth of a nincompoop and into the hands of the media lying in wait for some controversial greatness from him. It never happens.

He is obsolete.

So are unicorns. 



Michael Moore...meet Chuck Norris.


I tweeted a lot today about the twit. It's highly unusual for me. BUT HOW MUCH FUN WAS THAT? And it was so easy. 

I'm getting together some rich folks to buy up property next to Michael Moore's mansion so we can open halfway houses for released criminals. Any donations?