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|
And the 2016 Budweiser Superbowl ads:
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.
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.