Evidence 101

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

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Someone Is On A Mushroom Trip

I recently watched the movie Backcountry. It wasn't the best made movie, but oh hell. It makes a person not want to dare go in the woods again. All my life, I was never afraid of anything up in the deep woods or mountainous areas. Never did the thought of animals or people bother me. Most often...there were no people where I went. It was common for us to be stalked by mountain lions and see a lot of signs and scat of various predators and other animals. The scene in this movie where the bear comes and comes again...made me pee my pants. They don't leave anything out. It is disturbing as hell and very graphic. DO NOT let your kids watch this. Oh...and it was based on a true story if that helps you. 

Speaking of disturbing, my personal trainer listens to some nasty music sometimes. 
ME: What is this music we have to listen to? It is pounding my head.
OBI: Mushroomhead. It's my favorite.
ME: Mushroom Top? Whatever. I need to bring good music.
OBI: Mushroomhead. You can bring your music, but we won't play it. Here I pulled them up on Youtube. They are great. I've seen them in concert and met them. Have pics to prove it!
[shows me a wretched video]

This guy is short and stocky. Actually, they are all short. I love it. Great stuff.
ME: This song has some OK parts. The rest sucks. What's with the masks? Aren't you a little too old for this?
OBI: Never too old. This great stuff. It's their gimmick. This guy here [points to scary mask guy] is the screamer and this guy [points to scary mask guy] is the lead singer. Cool, huh?
ME: You don't even know what they look like. Creepy. That stuff is messed up and disturbing. Are you a serial killer?
OBI: A serial killer? No, I don't have time for that.
Ok. So that was a nonchalant answer with no conviction or laughing and now I am a little worried...
He doesn't have "time" for that? Who says that?
So "what if" he did have time?

Speaking of serial killers...

Here is a notorious  nice looking one captured in Wyoming...[click on the link]

Serial killerisms continued...

And then after getting my ass kicked in weight training, I ran in the evening out on the country roads. There are times I run past this farm and the apparent owner comes out and smokes a cigarette right by the roadside and glares at me.

When I pass, he returns. Sometimes he leans against a pole or hides in the shadows of his porch and then moves out of the dark toward the road when I come that direction. It is really starting to creep me out and my hinky meters tell me things for a reason. He is overweight, grey haired and hard looking. What I mean by that is weathered.

He reminds me of Lancaster,  a serial killer I transported to the station after he was captured in a suburb escaping a lengthy hunt for him. My team had been called to the scene where they located a blood bath. Lancaster was on foot and almost made it to the tracks to hop a train. He had a sordid past including being linked to several homicides all over the country, mostly involving transients or rough crowd types. The kind that no one misses. I had very interesting conversation with Lancaster and wrote a detailed report in which one of the lieutenants ripped it up (yes, handwritten at that time) and told me I could not write that in the report and to rewrite that I just transported the guy, not the other stuff. I asked what in the hell for, it was the truth. He said, " I know it was the truth, but if you write that in a report, he will get off on insanity. That stuff doesn't pertain to the case or evidence. Creepy mother fucker. Write a new report." I did as I was told. But I still kept the original stuff. Maybe I will share it with you sometime...

Anyway, I survived the run.

I don't know if I am going to change my route. 

I might change my outfits to include mass weaponry of defense or something. 

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Luck Would Have It

Prayers up for those in Turkey and all affected by the recent bombing.

We are in the midst of another Holy War. I don't care if the world doesn't want to admit it, but I can see it unfolding in several countries. People have been fighting over religion for thousands of years. It will never end. It is probably the single most volatile subject in the world which fires up the soul. And so here we are.

And so here we are trying to dig our thumbs out of our asses. Or not. Seems our government refuses to acknowledge the issues at hand. No pun intended. Well, maybe.

Just once...couldn't someone in Washington get some balls, vamp up our military and take out those mothah fuckahs?

It's just a question.

The next bone of contention with unhappy people would probably be race or creed of people. I still don't know why orange crayons can't color along with blue ones. It irritates the shit out of men when people poop in my sandbox.

I just want world peace. Is that too much to ask?

And freedom to move around without having my head on a swivel.

I can't shut that skill off. Maybe I don't want to with the ways of the world right now. At least my neck muscles are strong.

While the world is blowing up all around me and assholes continue to be assholes, I am going to dig a moat and fortify myself against evil.

Or just be cool warehousing stuff for the Zombie Apocalypse. I wonder how long it will take for someone to report Daryl Dixon missing. Hmm...

Monday, June 27, 2016

Don't Be A Douche Canoe

Today my weather app on my phone had a new high humidity alert: Lion King or Chewbacca Hair Warning. Well, it came true. Even my mother told me, "Perhaps you should wear your hair up today."

Ok. I get the hint. Things are not aligned in my favor today, so I punt. I hope messy buns never go out of style. Otherwise, I am in trouble. I can't braid, I don't want to do the Addicted To Love bitches hairdo I had when I was a cop. I don't have time for an elaborate updo.

And the world is just going to shit, so...
So...we need a little Wheels to make the day go better...

WHEELS: Boss, here is my affidavit. LEPRESHAWN proofread it while you were talking to the Lieutenant. Sarge signed it when LEPRESHAWN looked over it and said it was good.

ME: [proofread the affidavit] Give me a red pen.


ME: You proofread this? 25 errrors. And the Sarge put his name on it? UGH.


ME: Well, it's much better, let me tell you. Your content and information are good.

LEPRESHAWN: It's his first phase. It doesn't have to be perfect.

ME: Are you kidding me? I will pretend you didn't try to mediocre-ize my rookie. 

WHEELS: Boss says I can't look like a douche canoe in court. Has to be perfect.

LEPRESHAWN: What the hell is a douche canoe?

ME: I'm looking at one right now. [looked at Lepreshawn-big cheesy grin]

LEPRESHAWN: [gets on the cell phone] Sarge, 96 went all English Teacher on the affidavit... 

ME: What a fucking tattle tale! You big baby!

LEPRESHAWN:...We're going to have to bring you a new one to sign. 96, you're going to have to bring it to him. He's on a crime scene and can't leave. Why do you have to be so difficult?

ME: Because I'm raising a superstar, not a douche canoe.

WHEELS: Yeah, I'm going to be a superstar. I just need some work.

*yeah so there*

LEPRESHAWN: Well, I think you're being a little harsh.

So I ran the affidavit to Sarge because there shall be no douche canoes on my watch.

SARGE: What the hell? Lepreshawn told me it was OK.

ME: It had 25 errors on it. I suppose you took his word...the word of a Ginger. 

SARGE: I can't believe he didn't check it better.

ME: He said it didn't have to be perfect because Wheels is in phase 1. I am really going to beat him. Don't even tell me I will get written up because I know I won't. Shawn would not dare say a word...especially if a girl whooped his ass. On the other hand, you owe me one for not making you look like a douche canoe in court.

SARGE: [laughs] What the fuck is a douche canoe?

ME: Are all you guys the same? Don't you know the latest in words and slang? Keep up with the times! Even Wheels knows what that is.

SARGE: Strong work.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

I Found Gersh Kuntzman's Balls...er... Bawls

Did anyone see my latest on Uniform Stories? It's all about the Momster in me. Check it out here. 

Some things I find amusing:

1. Gersh Kuntzman still has a job.
2. Gersh Kuntzman doesn't work for The Onion.
3. Gersh Kuntzman still has balls.

Did anyone see his follow up to his first article? It was equally just as bad.

I know, giving him more attention only helps his ratings. I can't help it. It's like a train wreck.

It is so much fun, these meme wars. They come in many flavors. I must share them as much as possible.

His latest maneuver cracked me up today. I think he might have cried when he wrote it. Some point in time, I might even feel sorry for him because we are all out here being a bunch of bullies.

However, when you exaggerate so much AND have an agenda, I just can't respect you. I can't believe you, Gersh. I'm sorry you are getting kicked around a lot, but I think you deserve it.

In honor of him, I am going to share a story of where everyone in it has some balls and some bawls. So Gersh [I feel I know him by first name basis] doesn't feel so alone, there were people crying in this story, too. But they were all girls.

The air was clean and fresh. Still about 60 degrees, it was one amazing fall evening. A slight breeze was blowing. And by a slight breeze...I mean a gentle one, not like a Wyoming breeze which is hurricane level 5. 

As I strolled through the dark on the sidewalk to approach a residence with a runaway problem, the golden leaves rolled past me. It was beautiful. And it felt like Halloween. Boogety, boogety. The shadows played tricks. The air felt haunted. It was spooktacular. I loved it!

Meeting Grandma at the curb was such a refreshing change. A family member who cared. Wow. They still exist! Her granddaughter was being defiant, called her mother and told HER that she was not going to be home as she was partying at a friend's house. All at the ripe young age of 13 years. Grandma said, "HELLLL to the NO."

I really liked Grandma already. 

Grandma was much too smart and located her naughty granddaughter who refused to come with her and then two other young girls slammed the door on her face. Not cool. 

So enter...the POPO. By now, the child's mother had already signed her as a RUNAWAY in a nearby town. Little town punks moving in on my big city. Ha. They had no idea. 

I knocked at the door and was greeted by two Prostitots. One was the runaway.

ME: Kaylee?


ME: Want to grab your shoes and backpack and come with me, please.

It was not a question. 

KAYLEE:Fuck you, cop. I'm not going with you or her. [points to Grandma] I already told my mom.

ME: She signed you as a runaway.

KAYLEE: Fuck you.

OTHER GIRLS: Yeah, fuck you, cop.

ME: So, let me understand. You are refusing to go with me and your Grandma.

[Insert BuLLLLSHIIIT verbal Judo]

KAYLEE: Yep. Fuck you.

OTHER GIRLS: Yeah. Fuck you! Get the fuck out of here!

Well, there you go. I had my answer. So, Chief,  I had tried verbal judo. Now I must resort to other means. 

So. With one quick grab, I snatched up Kaylee's right arm and flung her out onto the lawn and down on the ground with a flying arm bar take down. It was all one beautiful motion. With my BRUTUS (as in Popeye) strength, I flung her a little long. And when I landed on top of her [not too hard mind you, I'm 135 and she was 110]...her face got a little smashed in the landscaping rocks. 

On a side note, I keep telling my customers that landscaping rocks are great for some things, but sometimes they attract naughty children. The brats usually pick the rocks up and smash car windows or residential windows. No sense providing them with free ammunition. 

This time they attracted a naughty child in a whole different way. 

Well...I might change my mind about those rocks.

While she was smashed into the grit...I landed another extra jab for the FUCK YOUs and did a flying elbow to the back. No. Not really. But DANG IT! I wanted to. Police sometimes have naughty thoughts, too. We just don't act on them for fear of becoming unemployed. 

I just handcuffed the disheveled Prostitot with small scratches on her cheeks and took her to the juvenile lock down. Rats. That was not going to look pretty for the boys. And her mascara was running because she was crying so hard.

ME: You really should try the waterproof kind. You are looking a little Marilyn Manson right now.

KAYLEE: [sobbing]

She was all of about 110 pounds soaking wet and by landing in the rocks on her pretty Prostitot face...she bawled like a big baby. So, see there, these mouthy teens are not as big shot as they want to lead us to believe. The disrespect can be eliminated. You just have to be firm and ballsy about it. 

Her bawling was following by the other Prostitots chiming in silence and dropped jaws. And then there was Grandma....

GRANDMA: Yeah! [throws down a point job to her granddaughter] That's right! You mess with me and your mom, I bring out the big guns. The police. Yeah!  Maybe you'll learn to be respectful and mind the rules.

I really liked Grandma.

Oh, yeah, and kids...FUCK YOU! Stop acting like assholes and listen to your parents. 

Monday, June 20, 2016

One Of Those Calls

I'm sure you thought I might have gotten hit by a bus, but lucky for you, I have just been super busy. I checked my sanity at the door and have not found my energy either. Somehow it has escaped me. All I really want to do is sleep. And wine. But- I find myself whining instead.

I am reviewing a new book by Jeremy DeConcini and sneak preview of a new Curtis novel. Oh, boy! Can you say fun summer reading on the porch? Yippee!

In the meantime, I have lots of news, but none to tell. Does that make sense? No. Probably not. So, for a reason of rummage sale, I was going through some things and found this...this old story...not the most upbeat or funny at all, but here you go...

He would be home in ten minutes. It was a school night. He was such a good boy, well actually- young man at 17, I guess. Both sons, actually. Well liked. Respectful. Good friends. Good kids. She waited for him to come home. His best friend was bringing him. They weren't far..just a few blocks.

I was directing traffic on a busy highway just 1/4 mile from her home. The traffic was crazy. No one stopped. The road was blocked off by fire trucks, ambulances, police cars. 5 different agencies. I was one of the supervisors but later the lieutenant showed up and took over. I volunteered to do traffic control. What was I thinking? Volunteer traffic control? I think I was suffering from some sort of delirium. 

The first woman who tried to run over me really revved me up for the rest of the traffic direction. I stopped her. 

I said, "What in the hell are you doing? I told you to stop!" 

She said she was going anyway because it was a green light and she was "listening" to the traffic lights. 


I told her where she could park that van and to turn around. I also told her the only thing she should listen to is the PoPo because I give tickets and the lights don't mean shit when I 'm standing in the intersection with a traffic vest, flashlight, and a blue suit...resembling a beacon in the night. 

I was a bitch. 

Customer number 1...pissed off. 

My customer service went downhill. There are those days. Sometimes, we just can't be happy but maybe part of the word...snappy. There were a lot of sexual comments coming out of my mouth. I'm sure if there were lip readers in the traffic crowd...they got the hint.

Soon...I called for another cop to help with traffic. Lepreshawn showed up. 

It went better, but peoples iz stupid and stubborn and think they had to do it their way. Pretty soon, more and more semis started showing up. It was after all, a highway and major thoroughfare.  

My fave. They're big. Really big. Bigger than my JLO booty. 

It was getting dark and the lieutenant came over to me and handed me his traffic cone thingy that goes on your flashlight. He told me the department paid good money for those "pieces of shit" and I should have it on my damn flashlight. Then he threw it at me and winked. Asshole. Not really. He was a good egg.

For some reason, I grabbed my heavy duty Mag Light. I have a $285, yes--$285-- new lightweight strobie LED charges in 90 seconds writes tickets turns on the sirens I think computes distance and calories consumed super dooper great flashlight. 

It really doesn't do all those things, but it cost that much and it is a nice new bright light and not heavy.  But for some reason I opted for the chubby metal one.

Pretty soon...here came along a van. 

Lepreshawn was letting the left handers go through. I flashed my light, I waved my hands, I yelled. 

He...the van driver... sorta slowed down...so I believed him...and then I turned my head. 

That was a mistake. NEVER look away. I reconnected my neck twizzle stick just in time to hear Lepreshawn yell..."HE'S GOING TO HIT YOU! MOVE!" 

So with a snap of my neck and gazelle like speed...I dodged just in time for him to run over my left foot. OOOhhhh... I was mad. 

And of course, he kept going. But I had some physical skills and I ran up toward the front of the van.

I took my chubby flashlight and hit the top of his hood, dented it. Told him to stop. He stopped, then when I moved to go to his driver's side, he kept going. 
Maybe it would help if I did THIS!

I hit the top of his hood again and told him to stop...dented it again. Nice one this time. He tried to run over me when I was now at the front of his van. I really hit the hood hard with my flashlight...big dent. 

By now, I was at the driver's side window. I was thinking this one's going to jail. I squinted in the dark. I was yelling. He wouldn't roll down his window. Obviously he was scared of crazy women. 

I squinted again to get a better look at him. Blue hair. He still wouldn't roll down the window. I just thought...fuck it, he's old. I waved him through. Lepreshawn was shocked. He said, "Why did you let him go?" I said, "I put three big dents in his hood to my one foot he ran over with no major injuries. I called it squares. " 

Lepreshawn laughed his ass off.

What was I thinking? He should not have been driving and should have had intervention of the PoPo. But this was too crazy and I said fuck it. Chalk that one in the books as a historical moment. I hope he didn't kill anyone because then I would feel responsible. 

Next...about 10 minutes later...big semi coming down the road. I had the light going, I waved, I was RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMN ROAD. How can you not see The Fargo, dumbass? I have a beacon and fairy dust and platinum blond hair. 

Big truck did not appear to be stopping or even slowing down. 

So, I jumped up and down and yelled, "You better fucking stop you fucking idiot! Fuck! Fuck!Fucking stop!" 

Yeah, he heard me. 

NOT. It was a semi.  He didn't hear me and obviously was not into reading lips. He kept going. I told Lepreshawn this asshole was going to run me over. He turned around..."It's a fucking semi! What are you doing? I'll stop my traffic. Let him go!" 

I told him, "Nope. It's me... and him. Chicken." 

Lepreshawn called me a fucking idiot and told me to move out of the way. Nope. 

It was me...and him. 

And I'm the PoPo. 

David and Goliath. 

The semi kept coming and he stood his ground. I stood  mine. 

So, I did what any good cop would do and ran like hell just before I would have been highway hamburger. The breeze by my face was one that messed up my hairdo. Damn, that made me mad.

We were too short handed to bother with it. I just hoped the rest of the traffic didn't follow suit or we were hosed. 

Man, Lepreshawn and I got a big FAIL for traffic control. Except, he had the nice side of the highway. No one tried to run him over. He said it was his red hair. Go figure. No one messes with a Ginger. 

The lieutenant came over and told me to go to the one kid's house to tell the parents to get to the hospital. He handed me a piece of paper. I said, "Holy shit. I know these people. Am I going to the dead kid's house or the one that will make it?" He said the one that will make it. He didn't want to do it and neither did the night sergeant because their boys were friends and they needed to stay on scene. WTF? So the lowest friend on the totem pole gets to do it. My lucky day. 

I left Lepreshawn to fend for himself by order of the lieutenant. He was worried to be alone and I was worried for him. I hoped when I returned, he would not have his lucky charms spread all over the highway. 

I lead-footed it to the house.

When I got to the door, I rang the doorbell. The mom came to answer my ringing. The only family member I didn't know. Everything was off. Like in my head. I drew blanks and dry cotton mouth and I didn't want to be there. This is a part of the job that sucks dragon dicks. 

I told her she and her husband needed to get to the hospital because their son had been in a bad crash. She freaked out and started to shake and freeze up. I said, "Ma'amm, he's alive. You need to get there." 

She freaked even more and said, "He's alive? What does that mean? Does he have legs?" 

UGH! Usually I am so articulate. What the fuck, Fargo! All I could think of was the other kid wasn't alive, so at least yours was? WTF?

Everything came out wrong. MORON. It didn't get any better. "Ma'am, it was a bad crash. He's in CT. He has all his legs." By then her husband came to the door and I repeated things, only better. 

They were told there were other people hurt in the car. They were told their son was the driver. I just found myself staring at them. Them staring at me. It was a blinkfest. I asked the father if he was OK to drive or if not, I would be happy to take them. He said he could drive. He was shaking. Then...I thought..."What Would Jesus Do?"

He would beam them there like...RIGHT NOW. So I said, FUCK IT-to myself, not out loud. 

"Get in your car. I am not supposed to do this, but I am going to give you a police escort. Stay on my ass but don't hit me." Oh, yeah. The chose of words were not flowing properly.

He understood. So we did it. I didn't drive all cop crazy but I got them there fast. And I let them park on the lawn. It was so busy at the ER. And we have two hospitals. So about the lawn. It's the hospital. Who cares, right? Oh, well. Police emergency. The valet moved it for them and didn't even give me the stink eye.

Once inside, the hospital rushed them in to see their son. They took them to the left. I stayed with a family friend and their daughter as only two were allowed to go back. They asked if there was anyone else hurt and I told them another boy was in the car with him. They didn't know that. So then they wondered who it was and which friend.

Gah. I want to come down with laryngitis like right now. Don't ask me any more questions!

Soon, the sliding doors opened for the fortieth time as I was in disbelief as to how many people, kids-teenagers, actually were in the ER. What in the world was going on? Then a man who couldn't breathe, then a lady who was pale and sweaty. Stayed away from her. Didn't want any of that. Sweat leaps if you get too close.

This was freaking chaos like no other. 

Many people later, a lady walked in alone. She carried a stern look. The sister of the boy I was in "charge of" said she knew her. It was her brother's best friend's mother. Oh balls. I sorta knew what was next. They hung out all the time. Then it dawned on her that her son was in the wreck.

The mother went up to the desk and the nurse came right out and took her to the right. The girl asked me why she was taken to the right. I said because that direction was where the family rooms were and where really bad things happen. She knew.

People. Stop. Asking. Me. Questions. 

Her dad came back out to talk to his family friend and his daughter. He looked relieved. He told them all that his son would make it. I was relieved to hear that as well. I stayed a few moments longer. Then I had to help with the crash scene. I told him I had to go back out on the street and if there was anything he needed, to call the police. He asked me about his son's friend. I shook my head. He said, "He didn't make it?" I said, "I'm really sorry. He didn't make it." He sobbed and gave me a hug. One of those hugs that they don't let go of you. I had to fight back tears. Well, that didn't work well. 

Back at the scene, I helped another officer with the evidence and followed the wrecker with the SUV to evidence storage. In the secure evidence storage room...I packaged things up. Dispatch had handed me the deceased kid's photo and driver's license sheet. I attached it to the property receipt. 

I stared at it. Officer "J" asked me what I was doing. I said, "He was a cute kid." J said, "Yeah. His poor mother."

She went in to the hospital stoic. She wasn't told anything before she arrived...just to get there. I'm not sure who told her or why she came alone. She knew when she turned right that her son didn't make it. She had been there before. It was all too familiar. Just a year ago she had buried her older son who died in a rollover accident as a passenger in a vehicle with a bunch of kids. Now she was saying goodbye to her youngest...and only son left. Her husband was out of town on a training for work. She didn't leave the hospital last night. She was kept for observation overnight. 

In the evidence office, I touched the photo. I don't know why. I had pain in my heart for that mother. It's like when you watch a sad movie and you get wrapped up in the story line. The pain goes away, but you think about the movie.

I don't know how much a person can take until their heart breaks in half. That's what I kept thinking about with the kid's mother. 

As I closed the vault on the evidence, it made an unusually loud noise. Or maybe we were just extra sensitive.

Then... the city went black. Lost all power. J and I stood in the darkness for a few moments and then entered the lighted hallway with the emergency generator noise echoing from the basement. We walked downstairs to the police garage and drove outside to tackle crime on the unlit streets...with heavy hearts. A few moments later, we were back in the groove with one more callus added to our thick skins. 

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Finding Jimmy Hoffa

Snortle (snore-tull)

laughter, gleeful chuckle, chuckling and snorting. Usually designated as a description of a weird laugh, but a can be a laugh you make when you REALLY enjoy something. Fargo invented word, but not a Fargo invention. I rarely snort laugh. 

It is what The Queen does. I thought she needed some Wheels today...and it is the anniversary of his famous debut in The Boogie Man Is My Friend: The Rookies, published in 2013. 

Independence Day.

It's a proud day to behold. For all Americans. I fear kids don't know or realize what the day is all about in their hearts. Sure, they know the meaning on the surface. It's a day to light fireworks and party. Not really. I think the meaning might be lost in future generations if we don't preserve it.

But do they really know what battles the people fought to get where we are today? Do they really know what freedom means? Do they really FEEL what the 4th of July is all about? I often wonder that.

Keeping an open mind for celebrations on the 4th, we don't bring the hammer down on a fireworks during this weekend. Fireworks in our city are illegal. Unless Junior is starting the neighbor's cat on fire, we are pretty lenient and just tell them to "knock it off". Most of the time we just smile and "attempt" to locate the fireworks problem, "mysteriously can't find them", and move on to more serious crimes. Let the people have their one day of fun. It's an unwritten rule. Definitely unspoken.

Before too long, the entire computer screen was lit up with fireworks calls. The lieutenant put a stop to that and told dispatch just to ATL the fireworks calls over the screen and stop sending officers. It was becoming a serious waste of resources.

Wheels and I were patrolling a nice, historical part of town where mostly wealthy people live. Big trees...nice landscaping...quiet neighborhoods.

Approaching a 4-way stop, I looked left to see three young males throw fireworks out of their truck at the intersection...right in front of the POPO. So first off, we knew we were dealing with rocket scientists. Wheels was driving but didn't see it because he was looking at his stitches in the rear view mirror and admiring himself. The stitches he received from his war wound of magnitude awesomeness. Clown. So...I told him to pull the boys over. It was an order. He always said, "Ok, Boss."

I walked up to the passenger side. Wheels dealt with the driver.

ME: Who's brilliant idea was it to light fireworks right in front of the police?

SHAGGY: [age 18] Mine, ma'am. Stupid. Didn't see you. Until it was too late. Sorry.

ME: Aha. And how much have you had to drink today?

SHAGGY: Me? Oh, no, mam. Nothing. I am not old enough.

ME: I see. I realize you aren't old enough. So how much have you had to drink?

SHAGGY: Nothing.

ME: Ok. Let's try not to lie to the nice PoPo lady. First off, I can smell it. Second...lean out your window and look down.

SHAGGY: [leans out] I don't see nothin'.

ME: Really. You don't see that beer in your lap that fell and is leaking out the truck door...spilling on my nice spit shined work boot? You don't see that?

SHAGGY: Uh. I don't know what you are talking about, ma'am.

ME: Oh, good grief. You are so hosed already.  I wasn't born yesterday. You got the smart blond girl cop today. Just admit it. You were drinking and still possess beer. It's not like ghosts that possess you. The beer doesn't magically appear or land in your lap or under your seat. You possess the beer. Open your door.

So Shaggy opened his door and out fell the beer bottle which broke on the asphalt and spilled the rest of the beer all over the place.

ME: Ok. Now do you see it?

SHAGGY: Well, ma'am, I didn't want to get in trouble.

ME: I do realize that. Why don't you boys step out of the truck and sit on the lawn over here for a minute.

Of course, during this course of conversation, the rear passenger admitted to me his doings and showed me his bottle of beer. He was also 18. The driver was 16, but had not taken any drinks of alcohol yet. I said YET. Boys. Thank Jesus the driver was smart enough not to drink and drive.

I started to talk to the boys and get their IDs. I ran their names for warrants. Their names were familiar and not in a bad way. They were good kids. All stars in sports. Just graduated. Except the driver. The driver was a kid who was "lost" because his dad signed away his rights and he now lived with his mother. It was a sad story. He wasn't a terrible kid, he just needed some guidance and attention. He got into occasional trouble. I think it was his acting out. At least that was me channeling my inner psychiatrist. His mother was trying to help him get over the loss of not having a father figure. I knew his uncle. His uncle was a good friend of mine.

But the other two boys were normally a good influence on him. Maybe they got a little carried away for the 4th. It happens.

So we were having a good conversation, talking about career futures, talking about better choices, talking about not getting in trouble....talking about NOT being stupid in front of the PoPo. And no drinking and driving.

Wheels on the other hand...

WHEELS: [to driver} Mind if I search your truck?

DRIVER KID: Nope. Go ahead. It's a mess, tho.

Pretty soon we lost Wheels. I only saw his butt hanging out. He produced the same beer the back passenger had in his hand and showed me. Wheels obviously wasn't paying attention.


KIDS: *blink*blink*

ME: *blink*blink*

Wheels kept digging in the truck and throwing things outside on the ground during the course of his "homicide" investigation. This became entertainment for myself and the boys. I just crossed my arms and watched while the boys sat on the sidewalk and hung their heads.

KIDS: Ma'am, we just want you to know for the record that we already admitted to you we were drinking.

ME: Yep. I know.

KIDS: We only had 2 beers in the truck.

ME: Yep. I know.

KIDS: He's kind of uptight, isn't he? We don't have any more fireworks or beer.

ME: Yep. I know. So...I am trying to decide whether Wheels is a wolverine, badger, rat terrier, or a squirrel in your truck. What do you boys think?

DRIVER KID: Ma'am, I think he is a Jack Russel Terrier.

ME: Great answer. 

WHEELS: BOYS, WHERE IS THE REST OF YOUR BEER?  I know from experience because I have been your age that there is more beer in here. WHERE ARE YOU HIDING IT?

ME: [Roll eyes. Seriously, Wheels...you are like 5 years older than these kids, I thought to myself.]

SHAGGY: He is going crazy in there.

ME: Yeah.

COWBOY KID: Why does he not believe us?

ME: Because he's looking for his ball, only in cop format.

SHAGGY: What is he doing?

ME: Well, he thinks every call is a sinister homicide. So you boys best tell him where the body is. Or I will be here all night.

COWBOY KID: Ma'am, that's just crazy.

ME: Welcome to my world.

It did put a smile on my face, though. You have to love an overzealous rookie with the right stuff, just needing some refinement and finesse.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Chess Games

I get me. That's probably a good thing, right? Most of you get me.

Apparently, not everyone gets me. This creates miscommunication and feelings. And hate comments. I did get a kick out of those...especially the ones who thought the article was trash or garbage or that I had a complex or POOR ME syndrome. You would have to go to US Facebook page for those.

I guess I didn't expect my latest post at Uniform Stories to be the popular one. I thought the one about the media would have gotten more exposure or attention. Just put the words RUINED WOMAN in an article and away it goes.

Goes to show you I KNOW NOZZINK!

I think sometimes writing is like playing chess. You think you have all these strategic moves and plans and whammo! Some punk takes your Queen.

Meanwhile on the home front, my PT is going well and I really wanted to put on a uniform again. It is killing me. I don't know what it is about being physically fit and strong, but it drives me. Must be the endorphins. Those help drive sexual appetite. Not that I know...just that I heard that somewhere.

Politics continues to amuse me. I keep thinking we are all in a bad dream and this will go away come general election time. I know...it is a fantasy. I like fantasies. Do you?

Well, close enough to fantasies are dreams. When I was working nights, going through the middle of my first very bad divorce-running the landscaping business, being a mom, running my ex out of the house and property, running the livestock, hunting dogs, running from my ex, and the whole 9 yards...I depleted myself to nothing. I mean all used up. It was so bad I reported myself to my sergeant and asked to be taken off the FTO program  because riding in the passenger seat just snoozed me the fuck out. I asked to be temporarily removed until my divorce was completed and we knew what was going to happen with the business. Additionally, I was going to take some vacation to get squared and not burn the candles at both ends. I fully expected to be written up or fired permanently as a cop. It was a problem. Driving...no problem. Riding...disaster.

The department took leniency on me and we worked things out with my schedule. However...there had been many days of narcolepsy and it just happens to be a problem when I ride in a car...anytime ....anywhere. I really have to fight with myself.

So here is a little excerpt from the days of The Rook. 

I reported to my FTO sergeant that I was having problems staying awake as the passenger while training. When I drive, I am fine. When I ride...it's like rocking a baby to sleep. Especially...if we have a lull in crime. SQUIRREL and THE ROOK have been good about it and try to help me stay awake. Despite business checks, training exercises, and traffic stops...there are seconds in between where I just collapse.  I even told Sarge I might have narcolepsy.  Self diagnosed.'


THE ROOK: You were funny. You can sleep and still carry on a conversation.

ME: Awesome. I am so proud of myself.

THE ROOK: When I was typing my report, I asked  you if you spoke to that woman on the last call. You said, "Yeah. I spoke to the woman at the counter. I got her statement."

ME: Nice.

THE ROOK: Except we never were at a counter. We were outside in the yard.

ME: Thank God.


ME: I didn't remember being at a counter and if I told you I talked to a woman at the counter, I didn't remember a thing. I was starting to get very concerned about my sleep problem. Like I was sleeping while out there with citizens. Yikes.

THE ROOK: [giggling] You were sleeping and dreaming. In the Tahoe. And talking. Funny.

ME: *blink*blink*

THE ROOK: It's OK. I got your back.

ME: Yeah. But I don't have yours. I am getting pissed. I think it's the vehicle. The Narc Arc.


ME: Narcolepsy vehicle. The Narc Arc.

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*


THE ROOK: [hits me] Hey. We have a prowler call.

ME: Ok.

THE ROOK: I tried waking you up by going to 60 mph and then braking. You didn't even wake up.

ME: Super. Beat me.

THE ROOK: I tried that too.

ME: No, I meant this is killing me. I hate feeling like this. I hate falling asleep. It's to the point I need to drive and that isn't going to do you any good for training. Sleep or no sleep at home. It doesn't make a difference. It's the passenger in the car thing. And boredom. We have had eerie quiet nights.

THE ROOK: It's OK. I just think I'm Morgan Freeman driving Miss Daisy.

ME: You're white.

THE ROOK: Yeah. It's pretend.

ME: Nice.



THE ROOK: You know what?

ME: What?

THE ROOK: I was watching you sleep while I wrote my report. You were reading that training manual and you fell asleep.

ME: Ugh. I am getting so mad at myself.

THE ROOK: You are so cute when you sleep.

ME: *head*dashboard*



THE ROOK: Look at you! Rockin' the ponytail today. I have never seen you with a pony tail. Only the high and tight up do.

ME: Dude, are you the fashion police?

THE ROOK: [Big cheesy smile] Nope. Just wondering if that will help you stay awake.

ME: *blink *blink* You are beating me at my own game. Now I know I am losing my powers.

THE ROOK: What powers?

ME: The force. It's not with me anymore.


ME: Oh, sorry. Forgot that show was before your time.

THE ROOK: Are we talking Harry Potter?

ME: *blink*blink*

Friday, June 3, 2016

Can You Bring Miranda For Miss Thang Over Here?

The latest from me over at Uniform Stories here. Let's face it, I'm ruined as a woman.

So many people are confused about Miranda warnings. It stretches far and wide. So, to clear up any mysteries, here is my most comprehensive smart article on the subject. It really helps to make it simple. At least I think so. If I think it is a simple break down, then any one can get it. Why am I bringing this one back up? Because I was going through my journal and it sparked some inspiration.

And along with that, is a throwback Fargo PoPo story from my not so famous journal...

This happened sometime around when I was at my fittest moment...both with brain and body. I was a walking billboard of mental fitness topped off with a strong physique. Apparently, that didn't ward off any crazies. I just was never ominous like the big boys.

So, I pick up this girl on a warrant. She has a mouthpiece...you know, the kind that her mother would not approve. She's very disrespectful and cussing the entire time in my presence. It clouds my aura. Love these types. 

Please, Lord, give me some duct tape and make it legal to use it!

Well, I listen to it...because I HAVE to...and turn my music up a little. Yeah, that didn't make her happy. You know what she did? Yep, she did...she opened the mouthpiece. I really hate that word-mouthpiece-sometimes. It sounds so disrespectful. This child was not in the house of respect, she was in the House of PoPo. 

She said, "Oh, bad ass bitch cop gonna drown me out with her music. I see how you are..." 

It didn't stop with one sentence or two, but droned on and on. 

Almost to the jail, she stopped and said, "I'm majoring in criminal justice. I'm going to sue you! You didn't read me my rights." 

I calmly stated, "Miss Thang, I don't have to read you your rights unless I am going to ask you questions. Maybe you should read Miranda v. Arizona and some other case law. See, you are arrested on a small bench warrant...really nothing I'm interested in because I concentrate on catching REAL criminals. You are but a small potato in the big pot of mashed ones. But here you are in my patrol car. Had to arrest you because of a warrant. Yep. Judge's orders. Nope. Don't have to read you your rights. That brings us to a quandary. Do I or don't I? What to do? Have you seen the movies? Everyone gets their rights read to them. Why? Because Hollyweird is dumb and implants things in the minds of several. Have you ever watched Silence of the Lambs backwards? It's just like those records. Do you know what that word, quandary, means? No? Well, let me put it this way- if the Judge didn't make me, I would toss you right out...because you are annoying. I would probably leave you on the other side of the tracks down by north town. There are some hobos cross river who might welcome you to their camp. But I can't because the paperwork says I SHALL arrest you...which means I must. And what I want to do and what I have to do makes an awkward situation. But, Miss Thang, since you know the law upside down, diagonal, and this side of Sunday, then you already knew all this before you shot off your legalese.  However, if you want to exercise your rights, I would suggest you pay attention to your right to be silent." 

Whew. I caught my breath quietly and waited. 

Well, that shut her up believe it or not. FOR. THE. DURATION. 

Amen, Jesus!

Oh, yeah, my mouthpiece works better than hers. 

And no...there is no recording of that. Why? I am sure it was recorded over after all these years.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Sexpots Have More Fun

Last night marked my first real session with Obi. Lifting was about a two hour session.

Today I was successful in buttoning my pants and putting deodorant on. I am grateful to be able to master those tasks today. Somehow I feel and look like T-Rex, sporting shrunk short arms carried at a 90 degree angle.

But I won't tell him that. I'm fine! Great workout! Whoooo!

Let me just say...I am a weenie. I have lost a lot of strength, but he was patient with me. I also learned a lot about muscles and weights. I am really looking forward to this. I would post some naked before and after pics, but my arms don't work.

I bet you are also grateful I can sorta type with scrunched arms and didn't miss a post today. Bravo, Fargo! Dinosaurs can keyboard. By the way, it is called keyboarding now. Get it right.

You probably didn't know this post took 12 hours to complete. I have good peckers!

Do you keep your balls in your purse? Head in the sand?  If you missed trending stories...

1. UCLA shooting-murder suicide by suspect student to victim teacher.
2. Clinton aide pleads fifth in email scam
3. 2 CA officers shot. Suspect is burning in a house fire right now...supposedly
4. Man beats wife's would be rapist to death! Bravo, sir!  Maybe that isn't PC to say that...but oh well.
5. Trump U. getting slammed as a fraud by NY Attorney General.

It's a pretty sad day when I only read the headlines and choose not to go any further. What is really dangerous? The headline might say: SEX SCANDAL AND HOMICIDE SUSPECTED IN TOY TOWN. Yet, the meat of the story talks about a broken Sheriff Woody left in an abandoned vehicle on the north side of town.

Those headliner news just try to suck you in to a bunch of poof news. So if you just read my headline today, you might have gotten excited only to find a totally unrelated story. But if you read to the end, you might find the sexy part. Got you to click, though, didn't I? Suckah!

If we only read the headlines...well...we miss a lot of wood.

Get the wood.

And continuing with penial penal system finds...I think we are punishing our do-gooder students a little too much by denial of some celebrations.

More strange news...

What a load of crap! Right? Apparently, Plano High School does not allow anything of any sorts, not just exclusive of the National Honor Society.

Who made that rule? Dumb. Wait. I know. An administration that wants to give participation ribbons to everyone. How do you instill ambition, success,  and drive in these kids if you don't acknowledge the victories? I have no idea. I don't think national scrutiny will even fix these problems which I am sure are all over the place, not just in one school.

Our school systems have really gone in the shitter in some areas. We have some great teachers, but they are put in a conformation box. Then you have dumb ideas.

How did this all transpire? Dumb whiner parents and dumb government fixers. Isn't this the place everyone is supposed to get smart?

I don't know. I'm just a dumb outsider.

After some keyboarding, stretching, and much needed Icy Hot, I have gotten my arms to work. So...much to your dismay or pleasure...I can now upload my naked video...

I hope you enjoyed my sexy dance.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016


With all the stink and fuss over a gorilla killing,

Katie Couric's convenient editing job,

Trump's full on rooster debate comparison,

and the first newborn on American soil with Zika virus...

we should all head for the hills.

And hide.

From the crazies.

Like all of them.

There are so many. Will they find us?  I think I am pretty good at concealing, don't feel! That's a song.I think.

Ape Shit Crazy

I must say I am sad about the gorilla. Now was there any other choice? Well, no. Duh. It still sucks.

Perhaps the zoo should employ cowboys and they could've roped him.

Make Me Crazy-SPIN Me Round and Round

I love how Couric's smooth talking PR spiels say it was just to pause for reflection of an important question, not make NRA supporters look like they didn't have any answers. Really? Tell me again how you spin. The national news comment threads crack me up.

Liberals say the conservatives are mad because they don't think it was an important reflection and poo poo safety and importance of all these issues. The conservatives say liberals wanted to spin it so the gun supporters look like idiots without brains, solutions, or ideas. I happen to think it is all spin. If you edit, you take away value. No matter where and when you do it. Plus, editing in a different video clip of time and date to make it look like the answers given is fraudulent. Just my opinion.

You can edit all you want for time, but to replace clips to make it look different than what the truth is, is so naughty. It makes the original question and answer session seem a little shady if you ask me. Perhaps that was the way it was intended...reel them in...cut bait. But that's spin. Sadly, people look at the video as true rendering of a conversation, don't know any different. The people who were there and were in the film look at it as fraud and misrepresentation. At least they stood up and made some noise.

Crazy Camps

All the fluff over Trump not debating Bernie. Who cares? If he isn't going to get the nomination, so then why bother? Why not wait for the nominee to debate THAT person? It's all down to brass tacks now. We don't care about any more fluff. Let's get the two nominees up there. I think it makes sense. I think everyone is all aflutter for no reason. For dumb. So now they call him a chicken. Who cares?

I was thinking more of a cock. But that's just me.

Call me crazy.

Today, I am off for my first weight lifting session of high intensity. Please pray for me. Please also pray I don't collapse in this heat. Gah.

Being from Wyoming...well...that's like transforming a polar bear to Florida.

Anyone who wants to move to warmer climates...YOU ARE CRAZY AS HELL!