Evidence 101

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

Monday, February 29, 2016

Nuts of the Same Shell

I would rather die standing up for the weak and fighting the wolves, believing in something greater than myself, than be dead known for nothing.  -Momma Fargo

The world is upside down today.

While Prince William's Officer Ashley Guindon was killed on Saturday, first day on the job, by an Army soldier (staff sergeant) stationed at the Pentagon, Hollyweird geared up for the long anticipated "white" Oscar award show.


Isn't that about the most ridiculous sentence in the world? But is it truth? I hate to say, sadly it is. Besides it is long and windy, it captures all that is wrong in this nation. What to do? What to do?

Oh, let's go watch the Oscars!

It's funny how life goes on without missing a beat while LEO killings become just another day and mass tragedies are nothing but a thang. It really makes me sick. I have to refocus myself. I suppose that is what the country does as well, seemingly unaffected by these social problems.

I really have tried to wrap my head around some solutions, but I come up with no way as to make or even motivate people to have better parenting skills, coping skills, care about their community, do something nice for their neighbor, etc.

So...we tune into Hollywood which is similar to Calgon...take...me....awaaaayyyyy.

Speaking of Oscar...I didn't watch the show, just snipits after the fact.

Odd how Chris Rock didn't mention Asian or Native American bias, or anything else except black versus white. Were those fake or forced smiles and laughs from the crowd? His monologue appeared to be in front of a tense crowd.

And how many were watching? Probably millions. Whatever entertains you, you should watch those things and I won't be judgey about it. Unless, you watch Honey-Boo-Boo, then I will judge.

I stopped watching the Oscar's long ago when it got away from the glamour and grandeur of great acting and brilliant movie making and shifted to political and industry agendas.

So what was I doing? Being perplexed, mostly. Of course, I was watching The Walking Dead.

The Walking Dead proved to be another strange version of events. Sex everywhere. Everything is winding down to basic needs: shelter, food, sex. I think Carl should be the next to go. He isn't worth much now that he can only see with one eye. His character really has no appeal and whomever is writing for him sucks at it right now. That's my two cents. My kiddo stopped watching last season and leaves the room. She is that pissed off about the boring story line and character changes. She calls it full of "repeat dumbness." I can't help but agree most times. It's like a train wreck though, I can't look away.

And my life in a nutshell. Pretty uneventful. I like it that way. But what can we do even if it is one small thing for the world to turn the corner on peace, love, and harmony?

I got it.

We all need Viking horns.


Because they are cool.

Be well and may the odds ever be in your favor. Rest in peace, Officer Ashley Guindon.

Friday, February 26, 2016

Home On The Range

Today, I want to go home. That is all.

One of my students asked me what Wyoming looked like and I showed her various pictures of the prairie, Jackson, Wind River Mountains, Cirque of Towers, Cody, Buffalo, North Platte, Lander, and even the bland areas and times of year where grey and brown seem to plague the land. She was overwhelmed. Then she asked where I had lived. I showed her this...

She cried and said it was so beautiful she couldn't imagine leaving that place. Blah. Yeah, I know.

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Being Thug: Pepper Jack

That gut wrenching feeling when you hear of another line of duty death in Colorado after you posted on Facebook that they had the most police deaths and injuries in the last three months can't make you feel any better about the nation's state of social disorder.  I certainly need a rest after that long sentence. 

Rest in peace, sir.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.

Most of the tragic stories we hear in the news are of veteran officers who were well trained for duty. So what is going on? Of course we can blanket by saying that it is easy to ambush a cop. I knew that every day. I didn't let it break me, I just was alert. But, it is what it is. You have to rely on the fact that the majority of the population have respect for human life.

So what can we do? Do we sit on our thumbs and hope for the best to come out of this divisiveness? We must use our voices! How? I don't know. No one seems to be listening.

I don't know why I feel that if the President got on national television and made a very harsh and resounding statement to the people with key words included that he supported the police, we need to come together, and emphasize that our nation must stop bleeding, yada, yada, that it might make a difference. It would make a difference in the hearts of some Americans. I can't help but think he has thug support. So why not influence them in a positive direction now that you have their attention? Call me crazy.

It won't change the ways of the world, but it might stop condoning bad behavior and make potential murdering thugs think twice before pulling the trigger on a cop. Now it seems like they have the green light.

IMHO, he all but supported "thug violence" at the time of the Ferguson protests. Ok. Maybe I am stretching it a little. But the cloud that followed was remarkable. I think Obama then just walked off stage and threw his hands up. No pun intended. Do you think he had to throw white cops under the bus because he couldn't find anything to reason with the protesters or because he was afraid what would happen if he didn't join in the reindeer games? Or does he truly not care what happens to societal law and order? I would like to sit down with him and ask some tough questions.

I agree we still have hate. We still have bigotry. We still have racial tensions...actually now more so divisive than say 5 years ago. It's like the 60's all over again, sorta...at least how I picture them because mostly I was just a gleam in my father's eyes back then. When I popped out into the word, most of the civil rights movements were subsiding and all but over or at least on the way to repair.

BTW, thug violence is my new coin phrase for "gun violence". See what I did there? And to all the feel gooders, thug has no color. It includes all races of people who are naughty.

"Thug" can be a noun, verb, adjective. It's versatile. It's like the word "fuck." Henry Lee always said "fuck" was the perfect word and makes everything more clear when you use it. People pay attention when it comes out of nowhere, especially from a professional like him.

Now if you use the word "bumpus" that pertains to color.

Bumpis- /'bəmpəs/

1. A raucous, boisterous person or thing (usually African-American.) Don't look at me, this came from the Urban Dictionary so it must be true. 

2 .A state of black culture defined by raucous and cultural euphemisms which no other race can comprehend nor anyone reading this complicated definition. 

3. When black people call white people out and similar in use to the words like crackah, home boiiii, and white cheese. Frankly, I would request I be referred to as Pepper Jack.

It gets old talking about the same things over and over like a broken record. We need to find some new meaty topics to spark the nation's interest and set our creation mind channeling on fire. Didn't I sound like a teacher just then? So inspiring of moldy minds they are.

*record scratch*

Funny thing is we are almost to a day and age where most people won't know what a broken record or a record scratch sounds like. What will we use? We must Google...

Don't get too search happy on the Internet to find new coin phrases either because before you know it, you are pulling up sites of "masturbation techniques while alone" and "hot lesbian pets." I don't get it. I just plugged in "new coin phrases" and "women pioneers." Don't google the word "hate" or "racial tensions" because you end up with sites linked to "Hitler ate my Nutella" and then the FBI comes to your desk.

So in closing...keep backing the blue, stay neutral, and be safe.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Steel Violence: A New Show

It's February and we have had 12 line of duty deaths since January 1st. January had 4 and February had 8. Double the trouble. Nine have been by gunfire. Yes, that is gunfire, not "gun violence".

Disturbing it is, but no one seems too alarmed by it except the police.

"It's just the price of business" many say. Who pays that price? The cops and their families. They didn't sign up to be killed. Sure, it's a danger of the job, but most all go home at night. Now those tables are turning and the thugs grow bolder.

Those same idiots are the ones who are seriously disillusioned by our vast societal disconnect. The problem is growing larger because we haven't been addressing the needs. Instead of putting medicine on that big zit, the media madness pops it and it spreads. So it gets labeled "gun violence."

The guns are not violent. They are a device.

The people are violent. They are usually serial thugs. Rarely does John Pop and Susy May go all up in the house and decide to go kill a cop. So what are we ignoring?

1. Mental illness and viable treatments or solutions.
2. Weak criminal penalties for repeat offenders and inadequacies in the justice system.
3. Lack of coping skills in our youth who are now becoming adults, thus adult problems.
4. Moral bankruptcy.

Shit ain't working, people.

I'm sure we could keep adding to the list of deficiencies. Funny thing is they don't include malfunctioning weapons or manufacturing blunders. Steel works just fine. It's the operator error which should have people concerned. So the solution? Let's take them away.

Fargo: Ok. "Mr. Bad Guy About To Shoot Up The Restaurant, let me have your piece! or Hey, Thug, let me have your heater! Yeah, you. The heater all hidden up in your junk. Give that to me."

Sen. Carl Levin: Nope. You can't do that. But I do know that normal law abiding citizens with carry concealed permits are turning fender benders into all out catastrophe.

Fargo: Huh?

Sen. Carl Levin: Yes, ma'am. Tragedies all over the place.

Fargo: Shut the fuck up, Carl.

Guns in cars are creating chaos on the highways.

Sen. Richard Durbin: Fargo, really. We don't need to get all crazy. You are so disrespectful.

Fargo: It's a meme. Haven't you seen those on social media?They are usually referring to the military memes with the poor dude named Carl which started in 2013. I can't help it if the shoe fits.

Durbin: No, sorry. I don't even know what a meme is.

Fargo: Well, he makes as much sense as the Pope did when he said it was unChristian to build walls. Did you know there is a street in Casper, Wyoming, with your same last name? It was named after someone more important than you, however.

Durbin: Let's talk about the real issues. When 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.

Fargo: Who is this Gun Violence person? Let's go get 'em. I don't even know what you are saying. Of course everyone values the life of small children or any child. One is the same as a ton. How are you protecting them? Did you do something after Sandy Hook? Did you put more school resources out there? More cops? Security? Did you lock the schools? Did you arm your teachers with knowledge? Did you screen the disturbed and creepy kids? What?

Durbin: Acknowledging that gun ownership is a basic right does not absolve us from the constitutional and moral responsibility to protect innocent children.

Fargo: Do you realize how uneducated you sound? Of course they don't go together like peas and carrots. Gun rights and children? Now you are mixing the responsible owners with the burden that they are not protecting our children because they rally for their 2nd Amendment? Or do you think we can amend the 2nd and get rid of it because it will save children?

Rep. Pulosi: We don't want to take their guns away. We want them registered. We don't want them crossing the state lines.

Fargo: Just to be clear. You don't want the gun owners crossing state lines or the guns? So how many times did someone from Wyoming go to California and shoot up a school?

Rep. Nita Lowery: Either the laws aren't sufficient or the laws were broken.

Fargo: Brilliant. Ok.

Ms. Lowery, Let me address the other concerns brought up by your constituents. You guys like the idea to label people unstable and mentally ill in the NCIC system and mark them with the ATF background check nifty swifty computerized checks. I'm not even going to go to irrational idea that we all turn our guns into the local cop shop. So back to the mental issues.

How unstable is unstable gotta be? I'm all crazy. I bet I can decide whether or not to use my firearms for their intended purposes for hunting and protection.

You know that The Hulk was once a normal man and then went bonkers and turned into a green crime fighting machine? But he cost the city a lot of money. Can he have a gun?

Rep. Nancy Pulosi: Not that kind of crazy, Fargo.

Fargo: Ok. Your kind of crazy? (snork-waves her off) I'm just kidding. But I have seen how you hold a firearm. Scares the shit out of me. Let's just disqualify you upfront because you have had a mental breakdown and by the way you hold a weapon, I can tell you are scared shitless of the things and appear to be very unsafe. You are going to make some kind of rash bad decision.

Pulosi: I would have to disagree with your behavioral analysis and you aren't qualified to profile me.

Fargo: Whatever. What kind of meds and how much? Can I still make those super awesome brownies that I pass out to the kids with the green garnish? How much meds? Huh?

Pulosi: We would have a specially qualified physician carrying out these orders and signing off on the paperwork.

Fargo: Which doctors? Since you are all proper and certifiable we should use a psycho-chiatrist. Yes? What kind of tests? Can they predict if a perfectly good person nuts off or if someone is going to go postal in the next five years? How long is the ban good for? What if they pass the good behavior time and the ban is lifted, then they go ape shit crazy and take out half of Manhattan?

Pulosi: I am not certain at this time, but I can have the committee get the information at a later date. You are making a mockery of perfectly good legal sense with a viable solution!  Just to be clear, you can add to that we will make manufacturers accountable for making weapons of death.

Fargo: You realize the purpose of a firearm is death, right? I don't point it at the ground and make people dance. I'm not into scaring people for the fun of it. I surely don't want to give my deer any more head start than he already gets by nature. When I shoot a snake, I want it to be dead.

Pulosi: (blows her nose and sobs uncontrollably)

Fargo: Ok. Apprently, I upset you. Do we need to get your meds? Here. Let me distract your anxiety with another question. Would that person be labeled in some system for the rest of his or her life? Would he or she be prevented from certain kinds of employment?

Pulosi: Um. (sniffling)

Fargo: I like your necklace.

Pulosi: (honking sound in Kleenex) Thank you.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

How To Combat The Smoke From Burnout

When I was a kid the only burnout I knew was involving really cool drivers or really cool cars. It never even dawned on me this would be a topic of discussion when I was a cop. I don't know if I truly experienced the full on cop burnout in any point in my career. There were times I was exhausted or I felt defeated mentally and physically, but I didn't let the job or the administration issues defeat me.

Sure, I heard about it or saw it in other officers and surely we were all exposed to the poisoned few who were beyond repair. Every officer has been disgruntled a time or two. I spoke out many times when I felt an injustice or they enforced what I thought was an unfair policy or ridiculous assignment. Sometimes I got in trouble. But, I spoke my mind and made myself feel better. Other times, we were told to shut thy mouth unless we had a better solution or just shut up and eat it. It's the way you have to deal with Type A personalities with badges.

I watched the downtrodden mostly. I didn't want to join in those reindeer games and I didn't feel that much dread where I didn't want to come to work. I enjoyed them as people and they were good cops. They were just extremely negative and couldn't regain that vigor for their career that we all started with in the beginning or found somewhere in the middle. So what caused this change?

Most often it was an administrative person or function. Even though the public is watchful and demanding, all cops are used to dealing with those tugs and pulls. You just don't expect to be sandblasted by one of your own. Officers who feel they are treated unfairly or unjust will develop bitterness and lose sight of the ball.

The administrators are in a no win situation. Often they were our peers who received a promotion and then suddenly they were THE MAN. Many admins lose their friends who can't separate the job from the person and there are those admins who can't do that within themselves. And then there are those who just suck balls and never should be promoted. I worked for some of those as well.

If you have great leaders, your organization can gain great lengths in serving their community. With division, you have poor management and ineffective results.

Most all officers expect fairness. They might not agree or like a policy or change, but they expect the system to be fair. It's a minor request, but it is often clouded by individual experiences. One sure fire way to lose your troops is to talk out both sides of your mouth. Cops like leaders to be straight up and confront issues head on and then stand by their word. Good or bad.

Honesty, integrity, and fairness go a long way in developing leadership within an organization. All other methods omitting these three factors will fail. There is no room for glory hounds or those who are in it for the individual triumphs and satisfactions. It's a team sport.

There may come a time when individuals lose their zest for police work. For the sake of the game, let's call the ones who piss you off- Voldemort, whomever they are.

That is the time to reconsider the alternatives. Maybe you wold be better suited as Peter Pan or a Walmart greeter. You could always go into security or help Dorothy find Toto.

You can also fight burnout by looking into the following:

1. Hexing all the bozos who piss you off.
2. Waving fairy dust around your g-ride each start of shift.
3. Drinking more coffee laced with chocolate sprinkles.
4. Playing harder than you work when you are off duty.
5. Surrounding yourself with positive people.
6. Farting in the Voldemort's chair when he or she is absent.
7. Engaging in hobbies and physical fitness so you can be more artsy fartsy and tougher than your admins.
8. Perfecting your hair flip and using it when you pass those upstairs.
9. Getting more tattoos and pushing the uniform line.
10. Humming "Don't Stand So Close To Me" in briefing.
11. Submitting a proposal for community policing ideas based upon What Would Jesus Do?
12. Placing a can of open tuna under the driver's seat of Voldemort's squad car wearing Latex gloves of course.
13. Coming to work with a poker face and scare the shit out of your coworkers by remaining silent and stern.
14. Handing out the a-hole's business cards in the red light district.
15. Hair of the dog.
16. High fiving their face with a chair in your mind.
17. Fake smiling to injure the soul of Voldemort and penetrate his or her evil with your own happiness, whether fake or real.
18. Reawakening the dead.
19. Coming into briefing as a flaming happy ass every day with a super cool coffee mug.
20. Signing all your citations with hearts after your name.
21. Skipping to your patrol car after briefing is dismissed.

Or you could just become a rock star cop and fuck all of them by letting things roll off your back.

You can't change others, but you can change those things you control: your attitude, your performance, your appearance.

I still like the tuna can idea. P. to the U.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

A Collage of Nonsense

Warming temperatures teased me this weekend into a lovely spring like frenzy. I went for a long walk at a local state park on the trails next to the river. There I met bikers, rednecks, college students, and people of Walmart. It was an interesting mix. Most everyone moseyed in groups or pairs. I'm not sure if that was just a coincidence or for safety in the woods. There are not many independents around here unless you are a runner. I am working on becoming a runhole: that person who irritates everyone about running, who runs all the time, and takes running selfies. Not really. I just plan on finally getting my fitness goals going on track. I was almost there last September and then uterus happened. So off I go again. Poop shit.

Speaking of poop shit...

Most of my day on Saturday was knee deep in "sludge" what plumbers have nicely named a substance I call poo goo. After three hours, the plumber along with my assistance got the drain pipe fixed in my house. Now I have to let the basement dry out so I can clean up the shit pit and Chlorox the heck out of the basement. Talk about the shit hitting the fan. It was a poop pipe explosion. Egads.

Maybe I won't and instead I might make it a horror feature attraction, charge an entrance fee, and create a new gimmick with real life danger. Just kidding. That's gross. Who would do such a thing? Geez.

The presidential election campaigns continue to plague me with feelings of melon collie. (melancholy). Not really. It's boring and expected right now. Trump continues to trump the GOP side in the polls. And South Carolina coined Trump as "Uncle Donnie". Whoa boy. I have to chuckle about that one.

I really don't understand how Evil Hillary is still in the race and the email scandal has again slipped right off her back. I swear she belongs to the same family as Gumby and Pokey

She and Bill would be Dumby and Gropy.

And someone trimmed the bushes. Not your house. Not your lady garden. Jeb Bush. He suspended his campaign. I think that was expected. Really there only remains three. The other two should get a clue and save their money, bow out, and eat cake.

It does kind of surprise me that The Establishment is rallying around Rubio and not Cruise. Is it because Cruise is too far right? Not sure. Or maybe The Establishment thinks the people want someone more Middle of the Road.

No matter how this pans out, the Republican Party needs to update their platforms and regroup the party because it reminds me of a bowl of Lucky Charms. Erg.

The new president is going to have to be good at scrap booking. What? What you say, Fargo?

Yes, the country is divided and is truly in a social mess. You need glue and collage skills.

Stay tuned for more regular posting...just like my poo schedule now.

My life has simplified. I'm just training for races and trying to maintain my household. In between that I am working on the new book and editing the old.

Spring is in the air. I get excited about working in the garden and running the local races. I am no where near ready for either. Boy howdy.

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Snarky Reposition



It's dusty in here.

I've been busy and busier. During that time I have also begun to piddle diddle with another book.

When I first wrote The Boogie Man Is My Friend, or compiled it, actually, (as most of it was in my journals,) I was in a snarky mood. Reading it now, I think I seemed angry, compassionate, and burdened all at once. The burdens were the ones I carried all those years from my kiddo cases that are internalized by cops. Plus...I wrote all over the place, very disorganized...just like a real live serial killer. Maybe I was playing the part in my mind. Mwahahaha! If you can imagine all those emotions running through me, you can imagine a red hot candy laced with chipotle sauce and dipped in chocolate.That's what I was like.

That sounds kind of good, really.

Whee doggies. My mind channeling is all over the place at random times. If you can say anything about Fargo...it's that she is random and snarky. In case you haven't noticed, I don't have a filter.

The next book might not be for all. 
It's going to be small.
You can't buy it at a mall.
If you hate it: drop it down or just drink more alcohol.
Pleasing everyone is really not my protocol.
But pleasing some...
...brings better results and income.
Maybe I should write porn?

Yep. I am a born again poet. Here is the book in Haiku:

  • A warm feeling
    covers precious you in repose
    but only a dream

I am not ready to reveal the book right now. It's full of Fargo. And that's all I'm going to say about that. Just hope and pray I edit myself better.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Movin' On Up... To That Deluxe Apartment In The Sky!

Blotter Highlights

Superbowl 50: 

How many of you were watching the Super Bowl? Come on. It was number 50. Did you tune in for highlights? Catch the news? It was nice to see Peyton Manning end with a win. I think he is going to retire even though he said he wasn't going to make an emotionally charged decision right now. He truly does Pey It Forward. Catch the new article in the Indy Star (link provided.) 

Did anyone catch his plug for Budweiser? It was subtle. 

I wasn't really thrilled with the weird commercials, like the puppy-baby-monkey which disturbed the hell out of me. 

I think I watched it with my mouth gaping open. But some made me smile...like the Prius 4 ad. 

And then there were the Budweiser ads: I particularly liked the ones with Helen Mirren and a new take with the Clydesdales. 

Who doesn't love Helen Mirren? She is a bomb shell and a role model for all women. I adore her. Here is her famous bikini shot of 2008 at the age of 63 on holiday on an Italian beach: 

Photo: Mario Brenna 
She didn't want to be defined by that picture and refused to brand herself as a sex symbol. 

"You write your life story by the choices you make. You never know if they have been a mistake. Those moments of decision are so difficult."

Classy British dame. I lurve her. 

And the 2016 Budweiser Superbowl ads:

So there was that. 

Fisher, IN Thrill Killer Sentenced

Photo: Hamilton County

Maxwell Winkler was sentenced to 80 years in prison, but the announcement went virtually under the radar being published right before the big football weekend. He was 17 when he shot an elderly man in Fishers, then sliced his throat. For what? Not a robbery. He had been plotting a kill for a long time, wrote about, and planned for it. It was labeled by media as  "thrill kill". The homicide rocked the affluent community of Fishers, Indiana. His father was the economic development director of Anderson, Indiana. Maxwell was living with his mother in Fishers. Oh, yeah. You can tell by his eyes that something isn't connecting right upstairs. It's the same story over and over. Disconnected kids, broken homes, dysfunction junction, whites of the eyes, no friends-loners, pale or grey skin, etc. I could be a profiler for future youth homicidal maniacs. 

 He was sentenced without parole for the murder with a change of plea to "guilty but mentally ill". He can get out in 60 years.  I am sure to be dead by then. 

Fargo Becomes An Out of State Rookie

Sometimes you have that one rookie from another state who bad mouths the current place of residency or constantly says, "Well, it isn't that way back home." Those FNGs are annoying as hell and we often would tell them, "Shut the fuck up. You aren't in Kansas anymore, Dorothy." Yeah. We weren't very nice training officers. 

We all compare. It's just human nature. I should have been more compassionate. But then...no...it was annoying as hell and I didn't want to here it. Shut up. Adjust. 

I have really been homesick lately and I was asked why I don't just move back. There was nothing keeping me here. They said. Then, I got told that all I do is bad mouth the area anyway. 

I was a rookie. Poop. Shit. 

Bug Grows Up

This happened this weekend. Where did the time go? At least she got my blue eyes.

Fargo Falls

My alarm went off at 4:45 am EST. I woke up, swung out of bed and the world started spinning. Boom. I fell right into the door jamb of my closet with no way to stop myself. It was the big one, Weezy! (Yes, that is a snork on Obama when he mixed up Sanford and Sons with The Jeffersons) 

I grabbed my chest...er...abdomen...because my chest had fallen. Old age, you know. 

Mind you, the house is 125 years old so the door jamb is 6 inches of the hardest hickory. It didn't feel so great, but I brushed off that sensation because something was not operating properly.  It felt as if I were passing out but I didn't go out. I must have gotten up too quickly. That is the sign of a bad heart issue coming on.  Lawdy, me, don't take me now. I'm not ready to go.

I realize we don't have a choice, but why not plea with God. Everyone else does. 

Nope. My legs did not move. They were folded up underneath me like a clown doll. Holy dragon ballz, did I turn into a paraplegic? Weird. I am not that limber. My legs do not go that way. I must have broken every bone in my body on the way down. Good thing I can't feel a thing. 

I club crawled (what you do when you are way too drunk and caught out in da club) myself to my phone but no one I called answered. What to do? 

Bug was all the way across the hallway and to drag myself over there was going to expend all my energy. This is quite the dilemma. I climbed up my log bed (thank you, 13 year old solid Aspen frame) and tried to get my bearings. I love wood. Especially hard wood. 

Then it dawned on me. It was not the big one, Weezy! My legs had fallen asleep. Snore. It took a moment or a hundred for them to come back and I got around for a few minutes like a Parkinson's patient. Needless to say, two hours later, those missed calls were returned. Of course, it didn't matter that I would have already died by then. People. Cell phones. I think natural selection just worked better in the old days. 

Friday, February 5, 2016

Prostration Blows and Other Man Cop Nonsense

"Let me be blunt and lay it all out there for the world to see." That was my intention when blogging took off. No longer was it a super secret journal or haven to record my daily encounters. It began that way for me as, Momma Fargo, the anonymous cop blogger. There were several us who somehow found each others' blogs and created a small cop community. Then it all exploded. Then came..."the others." The others are those watchful citizens who enjoyed reading about our fodder and left comments, then joined our blogs, then subscribed and came back for more. Silly peeps.

If you build it, they will come. 

We LEOs could finally express ourselves without repercussion until the Internet technology grew and it became easy to discover an author's true identity. That's when everyone fell off the Internet and went back into seclusion. Policies changed and social media was regulated. But what about blogs?

They, too, were part of the policy changes. I really started to seize up during this time and milled around several ideas of whether to shut down the blog or keep going against policy. The policy allotted for a personal blog but had restrictions on work information. I began to blog about my daily life off the job which bored even me. I was really unhappy. 

Social media killed the fun of our network but exploded a new outlet. We could network around the world like a gang in secret Facebook groups, websites, or chat rooms. Nope. They can find us there, too, those damned admins. Then you have the tattle tails. 

I belong to several networks and I am always amazed at the different perspectives and discussions. Not all cops think alike. Not all are Type A personality, but all have egos and arrogance of some kind. I posed that on social media one day and got a heated discussion that it was not true and cops are courageous and have confidence, not arrogance. I beg to differ. There are egos. There is arrogance. There is over-bearing sense of pride. Not all of it is the offensive arrogance, but that too tags along at times. I don't think everyone is immune. I  believe I had some negative arrogance a time or two.

Now is not the time to ostrichsize. What is that word, you say? Let me refresh your memory with visual aids:

Putting one's head in the sand and ignoring, denying, or hiding from reality.

I worked with a great bunch of LEOs and in a clean run department. Sure, we had our set of problems or disagreements, but they were mild. Lately, I really am learning the disparity between two sides of the earth. Departments all have different atmospheres, cliques, and attitudes. They are not the same. Let me tell you more.

This last week I have been questioned about my legitimacy. A local cop actually told me that when he tells his friends about my past and coming to Indiana, they tell him, "Something is up with that one. That story doesn't jive." I was told point blank: "Kathryn, you can tell me if you are in the Witness Protection Program and hiding from some mobster or gangster. I think we would all rather know now."

"I was just on fucking television. On a national network. Are you serious?"

This was a serious topic, but I was really about to bust my guts. I didn't mean to pass off as rude, but seriously, folks, if I can act this part, then what a fun story this would be!

Even after stating I am all over the internet and if I were truly in WITSEC, I was the dumbest client that ever entered the program, I still was questioned and not believed. I was treated differently- like I was a liar. It had no effect.

I throw my hands up. What do you do? You be gangster.

"Ok. I am in WITSEC. It was either here or Albuquerque. "

"I would just like to know. You just have to be upfront with us. No one believes you just left your job during a successful career to come here."

I couldn't find a brick wall fast enough to bang my head on. I had to change the subject before I pulled my hair out and channeled my inner Sinead O'Connor.

The cloud of doubt continued...then I got this from a bunch of veteran man cops: 

"All the pictures of you in your books show you having an intense look on your face."

"Yeah," I said, "That's how I was. I was intense and wound tight."

"We don't know any white girls that listen to your music. It's hard core. Like Bone Thugs, Eminem, some of that street rap. It's really alarming. It was almost a deal breaker. We don't get it."

Well, that struck up a conversation which got me on my girl bandstand.

"If you went west, you would find a bunch of people that listen to rap and other music. Especially, Eminem. We grew up with him. What the fuck? And who gives a shit about some person's musical preferences. It's not like I make you guys listen to it."

"It's just weird."

It got weirder.

The boys said they don't like female cops because they are "hard" and they try to be like the boys. Additionally, I was told they have no use for them and they think girls should be soft and wear frilly dresses. Oh, and they added I dress manly. Whee...doggies! That was the wrong thing to say to Fargo. Manly? I dress like a business professional. Off work, I wear lace tops and other girly things. The spittle which came thereafter from me being frustrated and hot to trot was not attractive. Everything came out between gritted teeth.

When I told them the females were prepared to back them up just like their linebacker buddies, they pshaw-ed me off, stating that they didn't need backup and certainly didn't wait around for any girls. This was not just said to get under my skin. It was what they really feel and think. I got that they aren't a close department when I did ride alongs. Everyone is cordial but not all friendly like as was my department.  I just didn't get they were working with Fred Flintstones and wanted Wilma to stay in the rock house tending to the fire.

This is Fuck You Barbie Cop. She was created by a man. Ten ways to tell this is a fake: 1. NOT anatomically correct. 2. Hair is not high and tight. 3. No duty belt. 4. High water pants. 5. Low top shoes are not worn by real cops. 6. Hand me down uniform. 7. Santa Claus belt is not issue approved. 8. Gravy train tie. 9. Karate chop hands are staged ninja hands.10. She is smiling. 

You can imagine my head spun around backwards and I went off about their version of a girl looking like a "ho" and being at home on the mattress. It did not go over well. I continued, trying to pry if that was the true opinion or just men trying to get me to twist off.

Push, push, push. "You guys really don't think that way."

"Yep." "Yep." "Yep."

Well fuck you, mutha fuckahs!

Really, was I in the stone ages? I thought we had all gotten past this? If they truly feel that way and are only telling me because I was out of the biz, how did they treat their female coworkers? This I needed to know. I am sure they put on a front so they didn't get in trouble, but were HORRIBLE behind their backs. Fuckers. It made me start talking like a truck driver.

"See. That's another thing. Real girls don't say 'fuck'. Hard girls who are cops and are jaded say 'fuck'."

"Yep. Fuck you, mutha fuckahs!"

"That really wasn't necessary."

The hell you say.

Did my coworkers feel the same about all of us? Was I just in lah-lah land thinking I was respected and we worked together well?

Who knows.

All I can say was that conversation blew. Square box, round pizza, triangular slices. I can make no sense of it. It hurt my head to think any more on this subject so I had to cease and desist.

And then I had to quickly phone my handler about moving me again. Maybe they will put me in a warm, tropical environment for the rest of the winter...

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

FMITA Moments By Fargo

Last night I almost got swallowed up by a phenomenon. That is a lot of consonants followed by some vowels followed by more consonants. First, I must preface this that it was a dark and stormy night with 60 degree weather and pouring rain and cemeteries and no visibility on the roadway.


Going to a school function in a nearby town, I drove balls to the walls because I got off work late. As I drove toward the town, I was receiving texts that I was about to miss the event.

"I'm going to make it! I'm going to make it!"

Moms and dads beware, Fargo is en route, mach 12. I kept driving and my anxiety level was escalating with each moment.

When I arrived in the town which was an average population small town, my cell phone lost service and my GPS quit working. I shit you not. It was straight out of a damn horror show.

To top that, only two businesses were open...a small grocery and a pizza joint. No one was in the pizza joint, but maybe they were out back smoking. I didn't have time. I saw the carry out boy in the parking lot of the grocery and hustled to his side. Well, I drove like an asshole and slid to a stop. To the lady's horror, there I was. She was a fat customer, about 30 getting assistance from a carry out boy who resembled Harry Potter's mother mating with the Schwan man. They did not smile.

Literally, no one was milling around in town. Ok, so it was pouring rain. That might explain it.

"Excuse me, sir, could you direct me to the high school?" I asked with a desperate smile. He looked at me like I was an alien.

But he gave me directions to go way down there and turn a right on Raider Road and go way down that road and turn left. Well, I went miles, couldn't find a Raider Road, ran into farms and many cemeteries and got hell bent. Cell phone and GPS still were not working to my panic and demise. I drove around and around, finally reaching cell service on a hill in fucking nowhere. I have parents on speed dial. It's the school way now. I am actually sociable. Somewhat. But distant. I sniffled and sounded like a freak, but explained my dilemma. Boy, did I sound like a freak.

To my dismay, no one could give me directions and only found the school by happenstance. Well, fuck me in the ass. I got off the phone and screamed. This was really stupid. I made up new curse words.  A grown adult lost in Area 51, screaming in her car, no cell service, and no GPS. Picture that.

I mean my car fell off the screen and the voices stopped and there were no roads. The yellow arrow was in a field of black. I should have taken a picture of the GPS screen. If I left the hill, I would have no communication with real people. Ever again. I was certain.

I was certain I was being set up to be serial killer bait.

Ima Gonna Killa Bitch

I had to drive back to the desolate and empty town. Fifteen minutes later, I tried the pizza place screaming in the back for some assistance. Startled, a pizza dude came out and helped me. He was quite nice. His directions were spot on.

Apparently, 3rd street was Raider Road. Well, fuck me in the ass. Who would know? There weren't even any signs pointing to a school. Taking 3rd street, I reached an intersection where the school sat... 2.4 miles later. Did it ever dawn on the makers of this building to put school signs along the way if they were going to put it in butt fuck Egypt? No. Why? Because that would make sense. Or why not extend the 3rd Street name for the next 2.4 miles so people don't get confused. Streets should not turn into roads. Just saying.

I need to be an urban planner. I could really straighten up this mess for dummies.

To top it off, I found out if my GPS hadn't taken me on a ghetto Garmin cruise, I could have reached the school by back way in 20 minutes on a new highway, bypassing Creepytown.

I didn't make it. I arrived for the last 10 minutes.

I really am trying to be a good mom. I don't know if I am going to be able to hack it.