Evidence 101

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

Thursday, January 28, 2016

The Hills Have I's: "I" Want That

Ok. I'm getting a little paranoid. Are bloggers and followers/readers falling off the face of the earth? Clean outs continue on in Bloggerland.

There was a time I thought you could never lose your blog, but if you aren't active, apparently Blogger will delete you. Sad deal for those who have passed and family and friends can no longer view the posts from their loved one. Some day you will not be able to relive my funny or irrational ramblings. I thought this would be here for my daughter some day to read. However, I am misguided. The same goes for paid sites. If the money is gone, so are you.

Grab hold, mateys, before it is too late! Read or comment on your favorites to keep them alive!

Ok. Enough of that drama. I sound like Donald Trump.

How about a new topic of discussion? This is not even in the news.

I am sure many of you have thought long and hard about me running late at night...in the dark...by myself. Hmm..in the country...where there are weirdos galore...isn't she afraid?

The answer is, "No." I run unafraid. Why? Because it is a waste of energy. I think I am more aware that an active shooter could take me out in the university gym before I would get hit by a car or attacked by a rapist on my country trail runs.

Do I have NO fear? No. I don't operate on adolescence or adult stupidity. I just have emotional intelligence and situational awareness. Here is another thought for those who venture out into the wilderness or run in the dark. If you are scared, counter that with protection. I guess you could abstain all together, but that is kind of boring and unfun. That is a word.

So what can you do?

Carry something that feels good. No, not a dildo. That would scare people. Well, I guess no one would approach you and mission accomplished.

Carry a stick. Not a dick.

I might have a better idea with not so drastic ideas.

How about knives...OC...Tasers? Sure. They probably have what makes you feel safe.

Or... if you are comfortable with firearms like myself...

If your state mandates concealed carry permits, then get one. If you are in a state with open carry laws (hooray for the west!) then carry on.

But, egads, Fargo, those guns are so heavy and bounce around on my waist or make me crazy strapped to my ankle. It makes me run lopsided. Geesh. Some of you are so fickle.

A brilliant Colorado company called Hill Country Gear makes super fantabulous and creative outdoor carry gear for the wilderness and runners in a variety of designs. They are super affordable.

Guess what? This is not a solicited review.

I wish they would give me a free product for review and to keep later for running purposes. That would cause me to do a happy dance. This is just Fargo telling you about an awesome product at a price which does not break the bank.

First...for you day hikers or fisher peeps...try this:

This is the snubby kit, great for subcompacts. 
Hill People Gear sell this for $85.00.

What is better than that for us trail runners or outside country and city runners? Answer: The runner's kit bag. It is $45.00. Totally affordable and a great gift to yourself or your runner loved one. Plus it is absolutely functional and doesn't get in your way so you can swing your arms freely and be ready to draw down on those snakes. I mean real snakes, not snake people. However, you might run into a serial killer on a trail like this...

The runner kit bag.

I mostly shoot snakes. All kinds. I'm not a racist.

Great for wilderness adventures and running: The runner's kit bag. 
Hill People Gear don't even know who I am, so don't think this is a paid pitch for their product. I just think more people should know about it. Sure, it adds a little weight. So what? You pussy.

You can even throw in your phone for music enjoyment in the kit bags which have an extra pocket. Or strap it (your music device or phone) on your arm like I like to do as well as even carry it in my left (non-shooting) hand.

The runner's kit bag also allows for a knife or gum or Kleenex for you cry babies in the front pocket. Watch the video for best practices if you aren't familiar with this product:

Don't like to run? You can wear it while mountain biking or leisure riding through town. Add in some cash and stop at the local ice cream shop. Not really. That kind of defeats the purpose. Well, I guess you could look at it like a reward for your effort. Don't forget to put your papers or permit in your zipper pocket in case the PoPo show up on the trail or pull you over for excessive speeds. 

Or let's say you are hiking on the Appalachian Trail and need to stop at a gas station for a drink. There you go...whip out your credit card or some greenbacks. If you are walking along in the wilderness of Wyoming or Colorado, you really don't need cash because you are more likely to run into no one or Smokie The Bear. In that case, your firearm may or may not do you any good. When your butt hole shrinks, that is when your instincts kick in and you either freeze, run, or make noise depending on the type of bear. But having a small shooter....it makes you feel better. It's all about feelings. It's not always the size, but how you use it. UNLESS...you run into a bear. Then size matters. 

Anyhoozle, this isn't about bears. It's about personal safety in the wilderness or around (((shudder)))people on the trail, street, or recreational area you visit. Make sure you know the rules of firearms regulations in your area because many places ban guns. In that case, punt. 

It still works perfect for me beebopping down the country roads getting ready for my running races. No, I don't carry on race day. It really wouldn't be fair to eliminate my competition. It isn't roller derby running either. I couldn't even catch up to the number one guy to knock him off the trail anyway, so I will just settle for NOT LAST. 

What else is super about this genius idea? It is made in the United States. What is even better than that? They have a clever name (named after the owner and probably goes in line with the landscape) and they have beards. What else could you want? Oh, I suppose you don't like camo? Too bad. It's like black. It goes with everything. And Hill People Gear are nice enough to make it in multiple camo shades...green, grey, and tannish colors in different varieties including ripstop fabric. 

The only thing that really pisses me off about this product? I didn't think of it first. 

They could have been called Boogie Man Bags, appropriately named. The funny thing is I mostly use mine for dangerous critters like snakes and skunks and things like that, not people. But there always is that one time...

Be safe. Be vigilant. 

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Sheriff Woody

Did Blogger do another clean-out? Where far has everyone gone?

It's strange what a person does when they have a sinus explosion headache and tissue issues at home. I couldn't even get out of bed today because my head felt like Chuck Norris took a bat to my forehead. He really didn't, but it felt like that.

After many hours of sleep, I found I was not rested. I am bored or board. However, you want to spell it or however you mean it. It's all the same. Both words are hard. So what does a bored 48 year old do at home sick?

I decided to see what it would be like to live on the other side of poor. Everyone talks about how I need a Coach bag. Seriously? I could pay some bills with that bank.
This one is nice and at half the price of the other Coach bags. I think it is bullshit. They get their cows from the same place as other leather shops get their cows. Maybe they tan them differently or use different dyes, but they are the same as Walmart leather. 

But, I could totally rock this coat:

Get the fuck outta here! See that sale price? It is a must have.

Yeah. So, I could never feel right spending that much dough on some cows without having milk and steak come from them. I actually met someone last week who thought milk came from the store. I can't make this shit up. I also found out that one of my friends has never eaten ANYTHING straight from a garden or homegrown. Where the fuck am I? Albuquerque? I swear I am in the Witness Protection Program posing as an extra on X-Files.

Anyway, I got bored of window shopping in the rich man's section.  I decided to try to some squats and that put me into a fever sweat. Or maybe I was just exercising. It's hard to tell right now.

I pet the dogs for a while and hugged and kissed on them. They got mad and left.

After that, I decided to compare pictures of myself and it ended up like one of those milk carton age progression thingies. Scary stuff, really.
Fighting weight-where I want to go
Now-going toward my fighting weight again
There are some huge age progression issues going on here. Sadly, they aren't even done by a bad computer artist or a software rendition of my Kingergarten pic. It's called Mother Nature and hard living. I don't think anyone would have found me if I got kidnapped and put on a milk carton. See how truly miraculous cop work is? It's like we are special shit out there just trying to do our little part to save America. Perhaps. 

Update on my brother: he made it through surgery and is doing what the doctors say, pumping pain killers and doing exercises. I can't talk to him yet. 

Monday, January 25, 2016


While I sit here and write this, my world has become so big I have disappeared and my problems don't seem to matter anymore. I'm even kind of misty-eyed at the office. Yes, I am writing this on my break. Egads, our government dollars at work. 

Yep. There it is. So what. I have a good excuse today. Shad ap!

My brother is about to go into surgery to have his colon removed. It might seem like an ordinary major surgery for most which requires some recovery time and a lifestyle change. It is. The exception is that my brother has blood clots on his spleen and a failing liver. He is on the liver transplant list. It makes his surgery more risky.

My parents are the parents I know best and who taught me the basics, my moral compass, and my belief system. They were our only parents, but we also shared the "village parents" as well which included our aunts and uncles, grandparents, and the Farsonites. They are all great people and had impacts in our lives which will last forever. 

Along the way, my brother was there undergoing all of the childhood happenings with me. He is the person I know best and especially in a time most of our adult friends didn't experience with us. I may not be the one he likes the best, but we went through the same things as kids for the most part. I may not be the most interesting, and he may not be the most interesting, but we are the closest and probably the clearest to each other; aside from our spouses. 

He is my childhood buddy, despite me being the mean big sister. I'm sure he wishes or thinks he is a quasi-only child. Why? I picked on him relentlessly. Yet, he grew strong and intelligent. He was a little mischievous, but good. I was good in the base sense of the word, but very naughty. I don't know how he turned out so terrific with a turd sister like me. I never went down the easy path nor chose the right road. I always went left. Left turn, Clyde. We are like different flowers from the same garden. But he turned out to be a wonderful person...more so than I could ever become. 

At the first news of this, I was worried. My brother was worried. After talking to him this last week, he is ready and wants to feel good again. I want this for him, too, so I am more optimistic about the operation. Still, Worrywartitis is an epidemic in some of the female genes of our family. Me...being one who inherited this serious mental problem, is restless today and full of prayer for my superfantabulous brother.

I can't really find my funny, but some things still make me smile and giggle when they are presented to me. For instance, let me share something which tickled my Funny bonZ today:

Maybe I even snorted at Tina Fey's impersonation. And then I saw a story this weekend which gave me Feel Goods. New words? Why yes!


noun \ˈfēl-ˌgu̇dz\
feelings of extreme satisfaction or warm fuzziness 
which touch your heart

Below, I thought I would share another nice development in the news which you may have already seen. I found this to be a great feel good story. This is using the singular version of the word as an adjective.


adjective \ˈfēl-ˌgu̇d\

  1. relating to or promoting an often specious 
  2. sense of satisfaction or well-being, cheerfully sentimental 

Follow this link... it's worth the watch:
Shaq shows up at the police station. 

So with that, I bid you ado today. I want today's words to be there for my brother as well...in both the noun and adjective sense.

And now, I must go back to my knee mails...

Thursday, January 21, 2016


It's my world. Only I know I'm in it. Sometimes "outsiders" get me.  Many times not.

Yesterday's post shocked many and not some. What? No, it wasn't the cussing. Although, in that journal entry I had a lot of potty mouth. Shit happens. I can't be a nice princess all the time.

Let's look at yesterday's post. Was it scary? Was I crazy? No. No. I was stressed. I was out of my comfort zone. Great things never came from comfort zones. Some cops hate accident reports. Some get nervous in dark buildings. I don't like going to unsecured pens. I also know when I could potentially be in trouble with what I am capable of doing.
I always problem solve to counteract any viable or potential situation.

OMG, Fargo, don't tell people cops mind fuck themselves. Did anything bad happen to me? Nope. Cops are superhero tough and don't have doubts or arguments with themselves or get uncomfortable? You mean cops can take anything like a stone and stoic soldier?

white noise

Why am I talking in riddles? I'm just being a smart ass. Can I interest you in a little sarcasm? I actually made a meme about that today.

Here is some more riddle talk. Cops don't like to be real with themselves or release outward what goes on inward. Pandora's box does not only include the heinous images we cannot unseen, but also what we don't let others know, what scares us, what makes us insecure, our weaknesses, our darkness. Most cops surely won't admit it. It might be a sign of *shudder* weakness and loss of respect by peers. Whatever.

Cops are human. Some of these things are not a sign of weakness, but someone who has emotional intelligence and self awareness. Being alert and vigilant is having brilliance in security measures. Prepare yourself by physical practice, real and virtual training, and mind scenarios. What do I mean?

I mean always think. Always.

Don't get complacent, cocky, or close minded. She used the word "cock" in a sentence. (giggle giggle) There is a reason it is a negative word...at least in most cases. It's great to be confident and to have command presence. It is not great to be arrogant and fool hearty.

Just announcing this to the Internet World so it makes it true: A police officer can NEVER have enough training. 

If you stop learning, honing and perfecting your skills, adapting to change, or growing...you are done. Put up your duty belt and run to Mommy because you have succeeded in becoming a fucktard.

Here are 10 common things (handful of goodies) going on inside our heads during dynamic moments, ordinary moments, problem solving moments, moments out of our comfort zones, moments with a half empty beer...OK...JUST ANY GIVEN MOMENT...

1. Cops always scan the room.

2. We talk to ourselves inside our heads. Many times we answer our own questions.

3. Cops play different scenarios in our minds over and over.

4. We always look for exit points.

5. We keep our back to the wall.

6. Sometimes we face an opponent who makes us shit ourselves and then we go to plan B, but we never stop. Oh yeah, that's reality even for the big tough guys. There is always someone bigger and stronger than you. You have to train and fight smarter not harder. They probably won't tell you that if they are a big cocky asshole. That's the dangerous zone. When cocky assholitis overrides reality. If plan B doesn't work, we go to plan C. See how that works? We are always adapting to our environment.

7. Cops would sacrifice themselves for others without hesitation.

8. We always blade ourselves on and off duty.

9. We never really relax in public.

10. We are prepared to act. Anywhere. Anytime.

white noise

Those are my thoughts and opinions for today, anyway. This post was brought to you by coffee, the letter "p", and the color 9.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

The Noise In My Head: Oregon Pen Visits

Bug worked long periods on her homework. It really was no different than any other day. She has a lot of it. Like endless. Last night she snapped a picture of Oliver sleeping and captioned it, "Even my dog is tired of homework." After she showed me her FacePlant post, I laughed. Then I told her, "He also ate the corner of your Biology book and a piece of your report while you were downstairs."

She screamed...mostly at me because I didn't stop him in time. I was computing.  One moment he was cute and awesome. The next he was naughty.

Oliver The Cute
So enough of The Harry Potter House. I bet you are ready for a cop story, unpublished type. It's new to you, but not new to me. I have never released this inside scoop of the Big Case. This journal entry details how I felt, what I did, and some of the cop stuff most people don't make public. Or maybe I am just unique with the noise in my own head. LOL.

Previous sections of these journal entries were written and detailed in my books and a blog post a while back, but I kept some of it to myself. If you haven't realized...when I write the way I am thinking and write the noises in my head...I change from tenses and talk about past, present, and future. It's a mess. You are welcome.

Photo courtesy Pinterest: It's a good day for a serial killer?

Walking into the prison was a little unnerving with their nonchalant behavior about security. I almost walked in with my gun. Not that I was being an asshole cop, but it is so naturally a part of me that I forget. And they did too. They didn't even check my credentials. I guess not many Wyoming detectives fly out to talk to a state pen inmate. "Correctional Institute." What a nice phrase. We must just reword that as PRISON. 

"The warden's expecting you." 

That sounded straight out of a Hollywood creep flick. Chills down my spine. The front gate guards seemed way too happy in their jobs. I could not imagine doing that all day. 

"It's also visitor day, Detective, and so you will be in with the population."

"Ok. How many?"

I had to know my odds.

"A couple hundred or more in there today."

Super. Feeding a lamb to the wolves. Not only was I going in to see a man I thought was on the outside in the first place, now they are putting me in with convicts and their family who hate cops. The federal  joint was a cake walk. The state pens are the ones that make me uneasy. Not enough detention officers. Unruly crowds. Maybe some human compassion and that smaller moral compass still sticks with the majority of the inmates. How easy would it be to overtake a prison? But...what purpose would it serve unless you were a lifer? Then again, who knows what these dudes are thinking. They didn't make good choices when they were on the outside with freedom...what makes anyone think being shut up like a caged rat will produce better choices?

It was a creepy day with the fog and mist surrounding a nasty dingy prison with lush green grounds and a forest. But was it a great day to die? I kept thinking it was a great day for a serial killer. Actually, Oregon fog was a perfect backdrop for any movie featuring Hannibal Lector. 

Enough of creeping myself out. 

I am feeling really fat. Being my all time heaviest sucks big balls. Everyone notices. In fact, I am at the same weight that Lynn was when she was killed. Don't think that doesn't mess with my self esteem. I often try to think how she felt when David made fun of her weight. I know I am talked about at work. Every where. Oh, yeah. Davison. She is that fat female detective.

Somehow I felt fatter than Lynn looked in the pictures. She was pretty and happy. I am bloated, uncomfortable, and my energy level is low. It's no secret this case is on the verge of killing me...inside and out. Is it worth it? It doesn't matter. It's my duty. I wouldn't stop anyway. No one ever accused me of being a genius....just a worker bee. 

My physical health is on metabolic roller coaster. My mental health is...well...all cops are mental some how. At least my brain is sharp. There will be a day where all these things fade and it seems like a dream. Or will it? Will this case always haunt me? Will I remember all these details? 

This is something. Two guards with shotguns  in the tower to all these hundreds of inmates and family members. Two unarmed guards at the desk. How many rounds? Puhlease. We have no chance if a riot breaks out. Wow. 

This is shit. No glass between them and their visitors? Just put them all out there like a shit storm cafeteria style? Picnic table like. What if some dude wants a piece of another dude or says something about his baby mama? Crazy as hell. 

My butthole just got smaller. Is it possible to scare it shut so I can never poop again? I bet those detention officers are thinking "That Wyomin' gal looks scared shitless. Har, har." 

Well, no shit. State prisons are never really secure. It's all on faith of human nature. What a joke. Looking around...I am the only female. Oh, wait...there are a couple out there seeing their man. So comforting. This place is nothing like the others. I feel like I took the wrong bus. 

Just call me the fat ninja. If I put on a fat bitch face maybe they will leave me alone. Maybe I can look like I do manual labor. Even though I am fat. I am strong. Farmer girl strong. Don't mess with a fat farmer girl. I hope they didn't tell him the cops were here. Maybe I can pose as a lawyer to the crowd. I hope they told Paul it was an attorney. If he says "cop" I am fucked. 

I have got to get back to eating right and exercising. Fuck me in the ass.

The Samoan inmate guarding my glass visiting room scares the shit out of me. He is intimidating. My only hope in here is to outrun him. He is HUGE. Maybe he is a gentle giant? Hah. He could have at least smiled a little when I acknowledged him. Grunting is too passe. Seriously? 

This is better than a horror flick. Fuck those ghosts. Let's put normal people in prison tours and make a movie out of it. Under guarded. Wide open. Yep. I would pay to watch that on the big screen. 

County jails. No problem. Federal prisons/supermax cakewalk. State prison. Eternal punishment. 

Ok. I am being a big sissy la la. Fuck. I'm a fucking cop. It's fucking prison. Grow a set. 

Where is he? Shit. This is taking a long time. 

So...if shit goes bad, can I lock myself in? Is this glass thick enough to sustain a riot? 

*tink tink* on the glass.

Nope. Maybe I could use the shards as knives. I could throw a chair and run and hide somewhere. 

Now is not the time to be too fat to fit in the vents. Fuck. Why did I let myself go? No more Metro Muds. I think I would rather have 3 rifles aimed at my head. At least I would know what to do and not feel like a helpless bunny in a den of lions. 

This is the Fargo Freak Show. Maybe I should sell tickets. What the fuck? Shut the fuck up. Get your interview shit ready and be alert. What a fucking shit show inside my head.

(Some noise outside the room alerted my attention to about 40 feet away. There is a tall, large figure screaming)

Nice. Paul. There he is. He is announcing to the world he doesn't want to talk to the cops and is planting his feet in the ground. Who is shoving him forward? Oh. Three detention officers. Shit. There are more DOs escorting him than are guarding all these people. He is mad as hell. 

He is hot. Holy shit. Fuck me.

Ok. Gross. You can't think a convicted cop hating felon is hot. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't answer that question. 

Damn. He is huge. Brick shit house. I am totally fucked if he decides to take me out. The cops told me he was a dick and fought cops, hated cops, and always caused a ruckus. 

*clank, clank*

Well. Here we are. Nice shackles. I wonder if he notices me looking him up and down. If he starts being an ass about it, I will tell him a cop always sizes up his opponent. Do I have google eyes? He surely needs to see hardened steel cop eyes, not google eyes.

"You can take off his irons and cuffs."

"I'm not talking to you, lady. Fuck you! I'm not going back to Wyoming."

Well, I guess I didn't need to ease into the conversation. 

Apparently, the gig was up and the big mouth DOs  told him everything before I got here. I wonder how many days he has had to stew on this. Fuck. Can't cops just say they don't know? Do they have to read everything off my transmittal and request? Gossip queens.

"No. It's fuck you, Paul! Fuck you!"

I bet he doesn't like a girl pointing at him. Look at his face getting red.  He is going to explode.

"I don't want to bring you back to Wyoming. It's a waste of my time and money. No body wants to ride a fucking plane with you and you aren't important enough for Con Air. David will try to pin this murder on you. Fuck it. I don't really care. You can't keep yourself out of prison. If you want to go down with him, fine. I don't think you did it. But I have to prove it to the defense. I can't just say Paul is a nice guy. You don't want to talk, then that is on you. I will start arranging for your ride back.

So fuck you! And don't be a dickhead. Fuck."

Slamming my notebook he kind of jerked a little. Girl cops. We are all drama. I hope my acting job worked. I wonder if he knew he was already cleared in the 90s by the first detectives. Ah. Probably not. Criminals are always paranoid.

"Fine. I'll talk to you. But you have to guarantee I don't go back to Wyoming. Because if I do..."

"Paul, you have to guarantee that yourself. You have to tell me the truth and all of it. Shit. I know we have NCIC hits and all kinds of travels with you and Glen. But I need to know what was going on? Conversations. All that. What happened in Casper. What days. Details."

"Fuck that was years ago. What if I don't remember all the details you want? You know Glen is too stupid and never did anything except walk away from camp and steal. David is a mastermind. That guy. He was conniving and treated women like shit. He was cheating on his wife. Shit we were riding trains and then I lost track of Glen. Went on my own. It's all David. I always feel sorry for the little girl."

Talking to him was fun. He was articulate. I don't know why. I could listen to his stories and his raspy voice with those Hollywood good looks all day. When he relaxed, he was actually personable. Eek. I'm going to the other side. Not really. But he would be the ticket to take me to naughty town. Nasty. I am married. I am good. He is bad. No prison crushes. I fucking need therapy. 

Monday, January 18, 2016

Lost In Translation

Take a moment, if you will, and remember the fallen officers from Utah and Ohio today, Barney and Cottrell. Officers (human and fur babies) are at risk of being assassinated-ambushed, killed during a call or traffic stop, while working on a highway/roadway, or by other means more and more. It saddens me. Moral compasses nor longer point north but spin around from some magnetic mind channeling interference called douchcanoeitis. It is becoming more prevalent.  Be vigilant.

For those we have lost, rest in peace.

The Harry Potter House is alive with fur babies and Momma Fargo today as I have the day off. I am babysitting two dogs. That is two plus three equals too many fur babies. Beat me.

Keeping Oliver ( Cousin It) in line is worse than herding ants with a toothpick. He goes from cute to trouble in 2.5. Oy.

Oliver The Terrible

Coffee is abundant. I might need to add Bailey's or Kahlua later. Blankies and books. Go me!

Today's selfie. Fargo blurred.
So amidst all this national sorrow and confusion...let me bring back one of the oldies to make you smile. Yes, I was snarky and really did talk like that-maybe too often. You just have to choose your audience to avoid trouble with the supervisors. You will find those who appreciate your sarcasm and those who do not. Eh, it's the way it goes-win some, lose some.

Here is a street find from a few years back...


Homeless people are some of the most interesting, dangerous, and crazy people we encounter. We have had several homicides, assaults, robberies, and rapes involving them as suspects. Desperate times equals desperate measures. Setting aside the violent crime, the most common criminal problem with them is their intoxication level and squatting.

Rounding the corner on routine patrol, something red caught my eye. I glanced over to see a backpack, sleeping bag, garbage, and a man. It was a business that had gone under so the building was empty and abandoned. I turned into the lot and called out on the radio. As I approached him, I could tell he got up on the wrong side of the bed...uh...sidewalk...or stoop.

He had bottles all around him, trash, and clothes. It was obvious he made himself at home.

ME: Good morning.

HOBO JOHN: Yep. What do you want?

ME: Really? It would be nice if you weren't drunk, stayed at the Mission, and didn't litter up my city with your bottles and trash. What's with the brown bottles?

HOBO JOHN: Vanilla extract.

ME: Ah. Better than getting drunk on Listerine.

HOBO JOHN: Listen, lady. I'm sobering up. I'm moving on. See that ridge on the horizon? That's where I'll be tonight.

ME: I don't care where you'll be tonight. You're here now. Can I see some ID?

HOBO JOHN: Yep. [hands me his ID] I have a warrant out of Indiana.

ME: For what?

HOBO JOHN: Public Intoxication.

ME: I'm so surprised.

HOBO JOHN: You don't have to be a smart ass, lady.

ME: Yes, I do. I received therapy for it, but it didn't work. My medication wore off two hours ago. Deal with it.

HOBO JOHN: All you cops are the same. I'm not bothering anyone. I'm going to college to get my master's degree.

ME: Oh, yeah?


ME: What are you getting your degree in?

HOBO JOHN: Psychology, addiction.

ME: Yep. Good field for you. So when do your classes start?

HOBO JOHN: Well. I'm taking classes by correspondence.

ME: Umm. Yeah. How's that working out for you since you are such a traveler?

HOBO JOHN: Good. Good. You don't believe me, do you?

ME: Not all. Thanks for asking.

HOBO JOHN: I am getting my degree, lady! It's in my head. The more I think about it, the closer to finishing my degree I get. Picturing it, visualize. Then it becomes reality.

ME: *blink*blink*

HOBO JOHN: It's true.

ME: Yeah. I received my college degrees by osmosis. Mostly from passing out on my books from an all night drunk.

HOBO JOHN: Yeah. It happens. I still think you are being sarcastic. You gonna take me to jail?

ME: You know, it's in my head. The more I think about it, the closer I get to picturing you in jail. Visualization sometimes becomes reality.

Friday, January 15, 2016

Bug Logic

Driving home from a school function last night, the Bug was actively engaged in a conversation about proper attire, selfies, and how we present ourselves to the public. "Like, Mom, You shouldn't have put that selfie on Facebook with your red shirt on because it shows your boobs. Disgusting."

Fargo The Slut

"Well, I didn't mean to look like a ho. However, it was New Year's Eve and people kind of look ho-ish on those events. Sometimes. And. Ok. Nevermind..."

"Mom! Be respected of yourself!"

"...except your mother who should never dress like a hoe. Or be a ho."

"Mom. This is not a good conversation. You shouldn't talk to your daughter like that."

"Like what?'

"Like talking about hoes."

"They are great for gardening."

"Mom, you know what I mean."

She went back to putting her ear buds in and ignoring The Momster. Bug was sitting quietly in her seat for quite some distance (road miles) with her phone and headphones on listening to anything other than Eminem which I had blaring on the car stereo. Sometimes you just have to do it.  You have to listen to Eminem. Actually, that urge happens to me a lot. He's one of my faves. Color me hip hop crazy.

I actually got to sing at the top of my lungs or shout out to a few songs. I think I made Eminem proud. Then...she reached over and turned down the music. I looked at her. She looked at me.

With her headphones on she shouted at me, "It's too loud. I can't hear my music."

Well...la tee dah.

It is all about the child.

I decided to get down at a lower volume and not harass her for touching the magic of my Marshall Mathers. While I'm in the groove, my daughter nonchalantly piped up...


Me (not paying full attention but still banging along) "Yeah?"

"What would you do if I suddenly decided to become a stripper?"

"What the? NO! I mean you can be anything you want to be. No! What the hell?"

"Ha. Gotcha. I got you."


Teenager logic.

If that was not enough, she wanted me to try harder on winning the lottery. Yep. Think about that one for a while. Kids. Do they ponder life questions just to get a reaction out of parents or do those mind channeling thoughts really linger in their brains? Never mind. I don't think I want an answer.

Sometimes I wonder if they are smarter than the average bear, Boo Boo.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Simple Logic

Each day, I am more and more grateful I was raised in Wyoming during the 60s, 70s, and 80s. It was not for pussies. All I hear most of my days is whining...whining about the weather, whining about the wind (5-10 mph), and whining about shoveling snow. I do not exaggerate when I tell you they cry over it with big fat crocodile tears and if I looked closely enough, I think they might have peed their pants. Mostly women, but there are a few men.

These people would never survive a Zombie Apocalypse.

Then there's me!

Yippee! I get to use my snow shovel! I get to go snow shoeing! Dogs get to play! Quiet time! Pussies.

And not to be rude, but people from the Midwest (near south Indiana state) and southern ladies and gents cannot drive FO SHIT. FMITA. It's snow. It's ice. Drive slow and get off your cell phone. If you can't drive, stay off the effing roads. It's simple logic.

I find myself being a taxi service driving people around on ice because I eat that shit for breakfast. And everyone is astounded that a girl can drive like a boss.

Oh...sprinkles of snow....close the schools in 3,2, 1. It's not because the buses can't get around. It is for the safety of the kids. Do you know how dangerous children are home alone while their parents still have to work in adverse weather?

No. Because employers here excuse you to stay home when the schools are closed. Mostly. Except mine. Because they are mean.

I will never understand these ways nor get used to it. I am so ever thankful for the frontier of the wild west.

Thank you, Mom and Dad, for not raising a pussy.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

A Series Of Unfortunate Events

The life of Steven Avery is an interesting series of unfortunate events.

Have you been sucked into the binge watching marathon of Making A Murderer on Netflix? My colleagues talked me into watching it so they could compare notes and get my opinion. Several of my friends have also asked about it.

So, duh. I had to accept the challenge. Curiosity kills the Kat, you know.

I really like the music on the introduction. It is very fitting. Eerie.

While I think it is an extraordinary venture in film making, and it does draw some questions about the integrity of the justice system- I don't find Steven Avery an innocent man. Additionally, it is very slow moving which is to be expected, but does not excuse the pain. I think watching grass grow on a golf course would be more entertaining. It is a documentary, so the entertainment value is not Hollywood. I get that. It doesn't change that my attention span had waned midway through episode 2.

Avery's first major case was a misjustice and later he was found to have been wrongly imprisoned for over 18 years. From the rape testimony, supposed opportunity, and a false identification from the victim..he landed in prison.  And later DNA exonerated him. How many times have we seen these things happen? Many. It is a travesty of justice. Looking at the actual rapist and Avery's pics, they look a lot alike. The victim spoke out and felt an incredible sense of complicated emotion in the wrongful ID. Rightfully so. Who wouldn't?

Avery's past personal choices, experiences, and criminal conduct did make him a likely suspect. Although he really never should have been convicted.  We know that now.

Fast forward to the Halbach murder, 2005. It had to be a gruesome ending to a young lady's life despite the fact the body is burned to bits and we can only assume from the case facts what happened. That is if the case facts are indeed true or partially true.

Probability that she was raped and torture are high, although statements may or may not be credible. Steven Avery does have a sexual assault past and disturbing behaviors despite the bumbled rape charge.

What can you deduct from a burned body, "sinister cover ups", and a family of oddballs? Something bad happened to somebody and the fact that the woman's remains were discovered on the property gives suspicion to the Averys as suspects.

So the defense claims the cops were dirty and framed Avery. They presume the cops felt they were framing a person who was guilty, but in fact, they were framing an innocent man-words from the defense. I don't know if I buy into that theory.

I found some things were not on the up and up, but the defense's main smoking gun...fizzled big time in court. Did they poke holes in the integrity and honesty of law enforcement? Yes. Do I think the cops were super good guys and the defense was floundering at any way to defend Steven? No. I think the cops didn't like this family (Avery) and felt Steven was a bad apple who needed to be sent away. I also think they believe he did it. Does this make Avery innocent? No. I think he is guilty of other crimes which surround his life and beyond a reasonable doubt guilty on Halbach. The jury spoke. But what are the chances a misjustice could happen twice? Could his other family members had something to do with it, i.e. Earl and Charlie? Bobby? Sure. I don't have enough information on that.

The puzzlement is the fact that there was so much physical evidence on the Avery property, that why would the police need to plant further evidence? Someone there did something to Halbach and it can't be that hard to figure out it was connected to the family members or member. Why not find the right bad guy? Maybe the cops wanted to tweak the pendulum all the way to the right because Steven was a public enemy. I don't know. Maybe it all pointed to Steven.

Steven is obsessed with women and sex, a dangerous mix for a predator to carry around in his head. Not only that all this obsession is operating on a level of IQ far below average which seems to enhance his obsessions and may add to the escalation of problematic behaviors.

Could his brothers or other family members be cut from the same cloth? Possibly. It seems they are all tight knit and there is no other way to say it: inbred and low IQ. What does this mean? Well, the past sexual obsessions, assaults, and cat burning episode are alarming and should be. This is indicative of bad brews.

Steven supposedly would have no idea a person or family member was burning a body in your fire pit? Come on. If not you, then did your brothers do it? Did you see it? How about after the fact? There was a big fire. We can all agree on that. Fires are long lasting, long smelling, and everyone knows about them on your own property. He knew.

The FBI laboratory scientist testified that the DNA from the RAV4 did not contain EDTA (preservative) which would be present from drawing blood from a purple top tube as the defense wanted to portray which they felt was a plant from the cops. This same scientist also testified the FBI is interested in matters of public corruption which was brought to their attention in this case.

Was the discovery of the unsealed tube suspicious? Absolutely. However, the lab scientist who was deemed an expert in his field stated the swabs collected from the RAV4 would indicate active bleeding from the suspect rather than blood drawn from a purple top tube which was indicated by the defense as sinister act from police. I bet behind the stoic faces were some grins from the prosecution on that one.

Oooooh. Make the FBI scientist a boogie man because he didn't test every sample on the RAV4, but most of them. This happens all the time. Labs don't do all the swabs, but usually one random one from each area. It's just the way it is. Does this become problematic? For the jury yes. For the defense, prosecution, and cops? No. They know all the science behind this and the reasoning. The defense's expert did not impress me.

And all the hoopla about this being "sweat" when the scientist testifies to samples of DNA and reference to blood?  This leaves me with questions. And how can you know that the DNA was sweat when it wasn't tested for those properties? Did you taste it? Gross. It could be oil, exfoliated tissue, spit, drool, bio matter of some sort, etc. Could you assume it was sweat with high certainty in the areas and manner the substance was found? Sure, but I wouldn't testify to that fact. This isn't CSI. All that technology and assumption may be available in the true world and good for Hollywood, but not for the average police force to go to the press.

Then there is Brendan Dassey. He is the biggest travesty in this case. Did he have a good enough lawyer (Kachinsky) defend him in the beginning? No. What a doob. That guy didn't give a shit about his client or doing a good job. He was excited to get press time. Was it the worst lawyer I have seen? Maybe. Then you get lawyers stepping in trying to fix things. Oiks. What a mess they have to unwind. Can they do it? Again, a lot of "I don't knows."

Brendan is a kid with a low IQ, and a pitiful soul, but do I think his statements bring question to things? Yes. Was he handled properly by police? No. Not from what was shown, anyway. Was it horrifically bad work? Not that horrific that I felt it was ABUSE like many voiced on the Internet, but possibly not the best for his intelligence level. Was the confession good? I don't know. I have not seen all of it.

Did he need his parent(s) present? No. The public needs to realize this is not a right. Many departments now address the fact that parents get notified in the process when their kid is picked up or interviewed, but it is not a constitutional right nor a break in any laws. They are required to address Miranda and make sure statements are voluntary.  Did Brendan understand his Miranda rights? I don't know. Does he know right and wrong, truth and lie? I believe so. Does he want to impress? Possibly. Did Brendan understand he could have an attorney present? I don't know if he could comprehend that need. But...what about his statement to his mother and why would he say those things? Hmmm. I would have liked to see those interviews in their entirety.

Slamming the Reid interview and interrogation method? So dumb. Means nothing again. Just the defense trying to throw up spaghetti. This method is tried and true and is designed to bring out information about the truth. Just because a suspect doesn't lay it out in x, y, and z and in order with all the details, doesn't mean the police are full of crappy interview skills. It means all suspects lie and hide and omit. Is it pushy? I didn't find their style pushy and/or aggressive. Again, I didn't see the entire recording of Brendan's contact with investigators.

Dassey recants his confession. "I could have gotten it out of books?" Please. I don't think he is a reader in the first place. I could be wrong. He claimed, "Kiss The Girls." That was a book by James Patterson made into a movie with Morgan Freeman.  Dassey has a fourth grade reading level and his confession does not match or even mirror Patterson's version of terrible crimes against women. Does Dassey have a great imagination? I don't know if he is capable of such details and I think he is just a simple young man. I don't think he is capable. Again, we may never know.

And then there is Kayla Avery. Why did she backpedal on the stand at first?  Is she scared? We don't know her state of mind nor any family influence she have experienced. Made it up? Really confused? I find that hard to believe. Collusion to protect the family members? Yep. Seems so. Just my opinion.

What about Steven Avery not taking the stand? So what. That happens all the time. It does not mean innocent or guilt.

What about the professor the defense brought in on the interview of Dassey. Again, so what. He didn't impress me.

What does all this mean? I don't know. With blips and half clips, you can't really make a sound judgment on the entire case which spanned much more than what we see on Netflix. It is a great piece of work, hard work. I do have to give the creators credit for the film.

The movie makers making a big deal out of the log for the crime scene not being totally accurate and the police not being reprimanded? Again, the earth does not quake beneath my feet. It doesn't mean there is a sinister cover up, but gives the defense a reason to poke holes. That is why cops need to be meticulous. If the police were, in fact, disciplined over malfeasance or substandard paperwork, the public may not be privy to that information.  They would never know. That is internal. Is that sinister? No. It might just mean the police made unintentional errors with no direct cause and effect other than giving the defense a reason to point at the cops.

Whether I like any of these characters in the film or real life makes no never mind. The police are not always bad and they are not always likable characters. Do I think something is amiss here? Yes, but not the entire justice system and not the entire force. What? Who? I don't know all the facts.

Do I like Kratz, the prosecutor? No. I think he is a creepy guy. Actually slimy. I wished he would grow some balls during the trial and not sound so "soft". That would have driven me nuts the entire time. And he should not be able to practice law but I am sure they could not prove his sicko behavior was a reason to disbar him. Or maybe they didn't try hard enough.
People can say so many things about what if's and what have's and "they didn't let me do this and that" or "they are lying" after the fact. I would like to ponder the reports and recordings in their entirety.

I don't know what to think of Steven's parents. They are a sad couple. I am sure they are feeling the brunt of the social out-casting being done to them and their business. I think they, too, they are simple folks who don't understand or comprehend their family doings, criminal behavior, or the wrongs and crimes their children/family members have committed, but they still have faith in the justice system and seem to think the best of things are to come out of their fight.

The prison girlfriends? Stupid. Nut jobs. I can't take them seriously. Really? What normal person would contact prisoners in hopes of a relationship? It astounds me. Even I'm not that stupid. (snork, snork)

Polygraphs? Mean nothing in a court of law. They are an interview tool and don't come into play here. Just because someone says they will take one does not matter. Can people beat them? Yes. Go ahead and throw them out there to make people think you are innocent or show guilt.

I think Brendan's best ally is his attorney, Steven Drizin. I was surprised Brendan was denied a new trial but the burden is great for the defense to gain ground here in any court.

What is the truth? I don't know. It is so muddled we may never know. We do know that Ms. Halbach died a tragic death at the hands of another. I do believe Steven Avery is a disturbed and dangerous man. I don't know what to think of Brendan. I do think he was mishandled in his interviews but is was he coerced or forced to say untruths? I can't say that from what I have seen.

The moral compasses are all over the place with all these characters which gives me a headache. The docu-series gives for some interesting contemplation and surely this will be an eye opener film for the justice system. Bring lots of popcorn and Ibuprofen for the strain of boredom. Don't forget to watch it with an open mind.

Monday, January 4, 2016

What Way Does The Pendulum Swing?

Well Seasoned Fool scolded me yesterday for overthinking and being in a dark hole... LIKE A BOSS. Well, poop on you, too. (I say that with endearment) I just went to bed early and slept everything off and woke up a squirrel again. I blame it on the government sending out bad airwaves and trying to fool with my mind channeling. I might invest in some tin foil and make a new hat so the FBI and NSA can't penetrate my brain activity. I said the word "penetrate."(giggle, giggle)

Yeah. That sounds good. Add in a pretty white jacket with lots of buckles and I will be set. The dark powers have stormed the castle! To the cave...

I think I need a vacation.

Geez, WSF. Can't even let Fargo be poopy for one day. You know it is all temporary stuff. I have to act human. Who knows, it might not have even been real gloominess, but fabricated to make me look imperfect, fallible. Oh, yeah. You might not think you guys matter out there, but I pay attention to your words.

After I took a long winter's nap to sleep off the darkness, I engaged in some interesting Facebook debate. I love it. It's like playing virtual video games. I think of my comments as bombs. Sometimes I just send down warning shots to stir up the folks.

Meanwhile on the west coast...the Hammond family ranch incident in Oregon. First, some brief history (not about underwear)...with a little Fargo ad lib...(ok, so this is facts with my peanut gallery comments)...

Hammond family: Very nice looking, normal type people=ranchers
The Hammonds have a beautiful ranch next to a wildlife refuge. For years, the government has been buying up local ranches to expand this refuge. Enter...government pressure and land. We know how this can fuel a huge land feud. Over time, the buyouts have become forceful including the government shutting off irrigation water to spiral ranchers' agricultural production into the drain, force hard times, force a sell. See how that works? I know the feeling. Been there, done that.

There was a big fire started by lightning. The Hammond family fought it to save the ranch, ended up starting a back fire which indeed did put out the fire, saving range land and the ranch. The back fire burned a very small amount of federal land. They were charged (charges dropped by DA, then refiled 5 years later by US Attorney), paid fines, and some of the family went to jail.

The two men were charged as "terrorist" under the Federal Antiterrorism Effective Death Penalty Act of 1996Ridiculous. Terrorists? Arsonists? What evidence or confession of such am I missing? I thought to prove arson you needed intent. In the process of fighting a fire, they damaged more federal land already burning. I believe that is unintentional. So fine them. That's about all you can do on a civil matter. The search warrant that many use the cooler vocabulary as "raids"...so what? That's a given. It's going to happen. My panties do not get in a wad over that procedure, but I understand how the Hammonds feel violated by agents "storming their home."

So the ranchers are in jail and serving their time, when the charges get re-sentenced and now have to serve additional years. Wow. Whiskey-tango-foxtrot. Really? I don't get this, but I do see the vindictive arm of the government reaching out here.

They have paid half of the $400,000 in fines and from the court proceedings, BLM gets first right of refusal if they sell their ranch. WTF? How is this possible? Maybe I need to go back to the law books. I know you can seize property which is connected to criminal drug trafficking and organized crime, but you can now impose civil land rights on a criminal proceeding charging two ranchers with arson? That is a stretch. Why has this not been challenged as to its constitutional merits? Maybe it is on the books and I am not aware of it. It seems to be a shady way to obtain ranch property if you ask me. If they can't pay the fines, they are forced to sell the ranch to the BLM or face further criminal charges. WTF? Usually, you just go to jail to face the contempt on paying the fines and it is converted to time. Not sure how that works that you can force someone to sell the ranch. Perhaps they used the ranch as collateral? Not sure.

Today the Hammonds are required to report to federal prison for their extended stay of the re-sentenced time after serving the initial time sentenced. This is crackpotism at its finest.

How is this constitutional? Or right and moral in all forms? But, they have stated they will show up and do as they are required from the courts. They have also made statements they have not invited Clive Bundy to the area.

Twitter News

So, there is a lot more to that story but that is the icing, and just a licking of the top. Behind the law scenes, I don't know. It just seems too unbelievable but I understand how the government works when it wants your land. It is plausible.

Well, whodathunk the Bundys and company would come and take over the wildlife refuge in protest over this injustice? Sho nuff. It happened by force by firearms. Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!

This is not the way to protest injustice nor reverse the wrongdoings they believe have been done to the Hammonds. Where are the attorneys? Where are the groups supporting the Hammonds? Where is the movement? It is there in Oregon, behind some AR-15s.


This will be another Waco, Ruby Ridge, or Bundygate, if you will. Ya'll Quaeda has taken over Malheur Wildlife Refuge as Tweets on Twitter have been implying all over the internet. The refuge will be further embedded in the history books making it an even more attractive site. 

So back to the Facebook debate. Several ( not one or two, but many) of my friends are up in arms, making comments to go to Oregon to fight for this cause alongside Bundy. I don't agree with this method and I agree there seems to be some injustice to the Hammond family, but this way is not the right way. I also think Bundy is a crackpot and used such words in my commentating which of course, was not liked. NO ONE PUSHED THE LIKE BUTTON.  He didn't pay his grazing fees. He broke his crayons when he got in trouble. Different situation. Now he has organized his own little vigilante group of "rancher mafia" or "militia" as the media likes to call them. Make them real scary like.

Really, Bundy? This is all you got? Come on. Use some common sense. Put your money where your mouth is and hire the biggest badassist attorney, then make some peaceful large scale protests and get the nation behind you. These are felony acts of terrorism. Stop giving the liberals ammunition to use against lawful gun owners by making all ranchers look like half-cocked off crazies. And stop committing felonies.

Ok. That's what I said and that's what I stirred up. The response was that America needed to be taken back somehow, somewhere, and it was a matter of time. WTF? Mutiny?

Now in the words of one of my former colleagues, "Kathryn, I support all extremists because without them we can never meet in the middle. Sure, most of them are plum crazy nuts. Hell, half the time I agree with them. I just can't openly support such nonsense in a uniform, but secretly, I hope they win."

If you aren't interested in this story, you should be. This is about a federal land grab, a revolution from citizens, and a big fat mess of illegalities.

I see one hell of a movie coming out of all this showdown.

Your thoughts?

Sunday, January 3, 2016

The Resolutes

The first of the year causes me to reflect briefly on the past year but I don't dwell or even linger on what is behind me. Like a slap in the face, I feel I have, however, been settling for things which may not be in my best interest or I just live with the way things are because I don't believe I deserve anything better. Starting over again at 43 really took the wind out of my sails so much so that even little glimmers of hope have not made me rise to the challenges and so here in a gloomy hole I stay.

It sounds depressing. However, I am a positive person who always looks forward to bigger and better things. Except for the last three years, where my spirit has been crushed enough to stall it out. During the holiday season I was in a fog and funk which clouded my way.

It came to me at a party where some party goers had seen me on television. They said, "There are those whom exist in the uniform, dream, seek, and those who truly are the uniform. Then there are those who are beyond the uniform. Kathryn has been there and accomplished that." It was a collaborative effort of philosophy by drunks. I really didn't think I deserved those words, so I waved them off and wrinkled up my nose.

Perhaps, I feel insignificant because I have lost my identity as an officer. There are times I miss the job but more importantly I miss who I was. My cop friends still look at me and ask why I left because cops usually leave because of tragedy, scandal, or they are forced to resign. My reasons were none of those.

I have never been one to stand still. Nor have I ever accepted a below average or a mediocre life until now. Problem is I got nothing to move me upward. You have to have connections or money, or means to earn extra money. And right now I am just tired of fighting for everything. Just once it would be nice to have something easy. But that's not how I roll. I do admit I get weary and then kick my own ass and move forward until I hit a roadblock.

My character has been lost by the mellowing out and dissipation of cop life over the last three years. Deep down, the core of myself is still there. But I am a different person.

Is it a bad thing? No, I just think it is a transition that I am not coping with very well. So here I sit. I am about to go run. Why? Because running is about being better than you used to be. Because when I run, I can still hold onto a piece of me. And over time, maybe I will become a better me inside and out. It isn't about the physical benefits as much as it is about the mental.

Mental and physical toughness have left any need here and so I have a marshmallow brain. I need to find my inner guts again to restart my goal seeking drive for the next half century of my life. I cannot go out like a lamb. There are days I feel lost. I sure miss Smoky and Otis because around them...I didn't have to be tough or put up a front. I was just me and they made me better. Yes, they are only animals. Only those who have bonded with one in a crisis would get it.

Smoky saved my life as we slid over a ledge in the Shoshone National Forrest in 2003.  He knew we were in trouble and according to instinct, he drove upwards until he landed on stable ground. I was only holding on by the horn with one foot caught in the stirrup.

With Otis, it was his determination and drive as a Search and Rescue dog which inspired me. Otis never stopped. I felt I could not either. In the wilderness on Smokey's back or clinging to Otis while he was dragging me through cold Rocky Mountain snow runoff, it was there that they built my character. Trust was just understood between us.

Now all I have are memories and running. This is what it must feel like to be Forrest Gump.