Evidence 101

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

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Light Bulb Lessons, A Gun Review, and Nomenclature Rules

This is an unsolicited review of the Smith & Wesson  M & P Shield 9mm. It's brutal. I'm blunt in response to everything and everyone. My first duty weapon was a S &W 3953. Nice, nice. I miss that gun. I want it back and might offer the dude some day. However, upon departure with it, I have grown to really love Glocks which I know is passe and so ordinary.

It's cute, right? This is not the gun I fired, btw. Photo credit: GunsAmerica
Many light bulb lessons occurred during a recent trip to an indoor gun range. Yes, it was in one of those armored pods. Very cool. Except the AC didn't work fast enough. But I'm not here reviewing the pod.

Rule of thumb for range day. You need ammo. Don't forget to bring it. Some people might call these "bullets." In case you are wondering, if you forget your ammo you got at a good price, gun shops will sell you some but they jack it up when they realize you forgot it because they know you are desperate. It's called supply and demand emergency. Not really. That was an attempt at economics humor. 

This isn't just any ordinary review. This is a review based upon my preferences and likes and dislikes. I will explain in detail, but you might disagree with me. You might hate on this, but that's OK.

I think for the first time in my life, I looked at reviewing firearms in a totally different light. That is not what I mean by light bulb lessons. Watch. And. See.

As a side conversation, I don't know why gun manufacturers put paperwork and manuals in there for us to read. I like videos. Reading makes me fall asleep. I know. It's about liability and some brain surgeons would rather read a manual. I get that. I will use mine for taking up closet space.

First of all, I'm going to get past semantics. I am over the nomenclature rules. Fuck that shit. Use your own words. I don't care. Now to be clear,  many people ban or frown upon using the words "handgun"or "gun". Military gurus think different devices running through their heads like lollipops when you use the word "gun". It probably means a lot of different things to each person. That's not the point. The word firearm probably does the same thing. Or maybe the word "gun" is too lazy for you and only applies to those who don't know how to use them. Perhaps you prefer the word "sidearm" for pistol. So anyway. Fuck the gun guru rules. We're here to talk about bang bang devices. All of them. All the words. Who gives a shit about the nomenclature. That was a statement, not a question.

So what do you like about firearms? You might like different things than me, so don't take this as the gospel. It's all preference.  I do what I like. If you don't like, don't like. It's a free country.

The ammunition of choice on this day of ammo blasting was Speer Lawman 124 grain. Yes, it was an expensive day. Ammo gone. Like a lot of it. Similar to a fart in the wind. Only gunpowder smells a lot better.
This is the type of ammo, but not exact boxes.
Why? Because we used it all up,  duh!

Anyrambling, back to the S & W Shield. Just to preface this post, I have zero pics of my day with Smith and Wesson. I went with the boss. He bought it with me at the gun shop about a month prior and didn't want to shoot it until I helped him understand safety and stuff. It was time to break wind...I mean blast.

It looks cool, it's light, it's small for carrying purposes. It's easy to conceal. I really like that part.

So first order of business is handling and familiarizing yourself with your weapon. Do it. Got it? Good. This of course is without ammo. EMPTY. Figure it out. And if you can't figure it out, Google or YouTube it.

I've had to do that a few times when shit goes wrong or when I am stuck in processes.

The day started off with the gun shop dude eyeballing my Glock 19c. Get yer mitts off my goods, sir.

"What kind of magazines are those? I've never really seen ones like that."

I looked at him like he was an alien: the green type.

"Uh. Regular kind. They go in there and it goes pew pew just like any other Glock."

"No, I mean they are 13."

"No, they are 15."

"Oh. How did you get those?"

"What do you mean, how did I get those? At a gun shop."

"You can't get those."

By now I'm thinking he is going to call the cops and report me. I'm really leary of strange new persons.

"I used to be a cop."

"Oh. That explains it."

Weird. At that point, I was about to hide my weaponry, but they insisted on inspecting it before firing. Next time, I will bring a throw down Hi-Point so they don't judge me or try to take my magazines away. I could hide my Glock in my bag. They don't stick around to watch you shoot. They just inspect and leave.

Once he left, we started to die of heat sweats because the AC was slow to cool the metal box. But we didn't care because there were red lights and shit and it was cool in there.

Now I've read a lot about the Shield and have had questions answered by a few friends. Everyone seems to rave about it. So, naturally, this made me excited about it. It is not ambidextrous. Just saying. Right handed only.

So the Shield is full of surprises for me. Mostly, how do I operate this fucking thing? I mean to tell you, there are too many safety precautions and widgets on this thing that by the time I figured it out I would already be dead. Looking down from heaven, I would watch the cops fidget with the firearm and then an aha moment would occur. Yes, I was really frustrated at first. I had to YouTube that shit.

The first 20 minutes were very embarrassing moments for me because that normally doesn't happen when I get a new gun in front of me. I looked pretty stupid when I wanted to use the damn thing and it was only as good as a club.

Dropping the magazine is easy. Ok? Anyone can do that.

It's a small gun, so it's nice for small hands. Guys, I don't want to know. Just don't talk about the size of your hands. Ladies, you can feel free to discuss that because it doesn't apply to us.

Pulling and releasing the slide is a little tricky dicky and this one was stiff like a dead man. Poppin' it like a top isn't always going to happen. The slide locked and got stuck and the releasy thingy didn't work as planned. There is a little trick and some finesse.

And of course Smith and Wesson are kinder to you when you are empty rather than full of magic bullets.

This video is showing you the insertion problem I had. I'm used to giving that magazine a good shove and maybe an extra. Tactical training, you know.

Let me just say, don't forget a new firearm is stiff as hell and needs some attention before you use it, like fucking oil. The Shield magazines can be over inserted. Oopsie daisie. Fuck yourself in the ass. Don't do that.

Another issue I found was that it has too many safety precautions and widgets on it for me. Fuck you, you gun control freaks! The Shield answered the liberal cries for help. I hope you don't die because you are too slow and you have to switch all the safety doohickies before your fire. I don't like the safety. It's too hard for me to use in speedy time. I would leave it off. *gasp* I know, right? No safety. Well, the Glocks don't have one either, scaredy cats.

Here's a viewpoint from an OK hick.

Speed reloading that thing in a hurry would be a bitch if the slide didn't drop and just stayed stuck there. Just saying. That happened a lot. Why? Because this was the first time the boss handled a weapon and it was eye opening to watch someone who had no knowledge struggle with things we gun gurus take for granted as a muscle memory. And when I tried it? I was worried about over inserting it again and wussy loaded it.

So yeah. Be familiar with your weapon. We created stovepipes and bad jams and scenarios just to practice with it. We both became familiar with the weapon and once we did that, it was a nice firearm. In the beginning, I hated the bastard. So did the boss.

After we were all done, I gave my Glock to the boss and told him to handle it and shoot it. He said, "Wow, that was a lot easier and nicer."

Ok. It's really not fair to compare a new stiff gun to a nicely worn and loved one.

The boss is an excellent shot. He's a very left leftist and I was really proud of his willingness to learn and practice. He said he was going to properly store it and practice many times. We have future range times. I gave him some tips to go home and take the gun apart several times and dry fire a lot.

So am I sold on this? Yeah. I would recommend it as a good carry option. It's a great priced device and a really nice firearm. It's made very well. It's easy to conceal. I can push the safety off if I don't want it on. Will I be purchasing my own? Not sure yet.

I'm a little partial to Glocks and really would rather have a 42 or a 43 as a backup.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Wake Up, Fools!

Here is a list of some pet peeves. Why? Because. I felt like sharing. You're welcome!

1. I really hate the fact that Soros is funding all these DA positions all over the United States in a way for him to "reshape the justice system" according to his liking. I mean, not only do I hate it, but it scares me to death. That man is really, really dangerous. People don't think so, but money can really buy you things. Some things are dangerous. What does that mean? Something nefarious, no doubt.  Cops will fry. I'm sure it includes burning all officers at the stake. You should pay attention to this. Wake up, fools! Not you. The other guys. You should sleep with one eye open. Why? Watch his reformative justice take over sentencing parameters and people will nary go to jail. Why? Because if we hold their hands, they won't be so bad. Now, I think restorative justice is necessary, but you need to do it wisely and those who do really bad should do their just time and not be slapped on the wrist.

2. I can't stand the liberal agenda on wolves. They spread lies. And many of them are in nice articles of peace in the high country and pat ourselves on the back type of shit. People believe them because they don't know what is really going on there, so they are spoon fed propaganda which they absorb as the truth. It's bullshit. Happy park. Happy animals. My ass. If you really want to know what is going on in the west, you should live there or shut thy mouth. The wolves are out of control. Herds of wild life and livestock are devastated every year. Wake up, fools! Yeah. I said it. I am mean like that. Not you. The other people.

3. Assholes. I know too many. I wish there was a shampoo to wash them away like flea and tick stuff. Or something.

4. The news. It sucks. Everywhere.

5. The perma frown on my forehead. It's making perma wrinkles. Gah.

6. I don't like being forced to live where I don't really want to live. I want to retreat to a high mountain area where I can shoot wolves and make a coat. Not really. That was just funny as hell, though.

7. I hate one of my classes right now. I am getting bad grades and I think my professor hates me too. It's sad really. I am a very nice and good student. Sigh.

8. I can't stand mouthy kids or disrespectful kids. I don't know how to change it. The parents are way messed up these days. That includes me. Our generation failed America. True story. We did it. Now we are griping about it. Ironic much?

That's enough today. Oh, yes. There is more. Most times I am pretty laid back but today I am pissy like a cat.

I know. I'm whining.


I will go now.

Friday, May 19, 2017

And the Ghetto cried...Hey Cop!

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto (in the ghetto)
And his mama cries

We went predator hunting one day. Sex Offender Registry. Address Checks. Banjos Playing.

We checked 43 of them. Beat me. No wait, not in those words, they just sound naughty.

Anypervert, we checked about 20 when we ran into two very well built strapping handsome 30 year olds in the middle of a rundown part of town who stopped us at our patrol car.

JIM GYM: Officers, could you help us with this Nebraska citation I got for no proof of insurance?

PUNKY BREWSTER: Nope. We don't mess with out of state things.

ME: [whack to Punky's left arm] What can we help you with, sir?

JIM GYM: I'm afraid I'm late on this fix it ticket.

ME: We better run you for warrants, then.

JIM GYM: [hesitant] Well...

ME: You aren't going to run, are ya? Cuz, you looked like you were going to run.


EXERCISE EDDY: Oh, he  thought about it.

ME: I'll give ya a 7 foot head start.

EXERCISE EDDY: Taser. [laughing]

JIM GYM: Oh hell no.

ME: Come on. We need the training.
I miss my Punky Brewster. 

So...we listened to their horror popo story of getting pulled over in Nebraska, then ran both of them because they wanted to make sure Nebraska didn't have any warrants for them. They were college grads working on their master's degrees. Seems the oil company they interned with had provided them housing and they monitored gas drilling every day for their studies. They were clean cut, went to the gym as much as they could, and appeared to be very nice, seemingly normal men.

ME: So...what are you two doing living in the hood? Seems like you don't belong here. It's like Sesame Street puzzles...one thing doesn't look like the other.

EXERCISE EDDY: Yeah. We got the shaft from our company. Put us up in the ghetto. We shut ourselves inside and lock everything up every day.

ME: Nice. Well, have a nice day. OH. I almost forgot. The Boogie Man lives next door to you, so be careful.

EXERCISE EDDY: [points to a neighbor house] Harrold?

ME: If that is what he calls himself these days. [It was a random popo scare tactic, I just made it up. I don't even know if Harrold or any of their other neighbors were the Boogie Man] Have a great day.

JIM GYM: Thanks.[weak smile]

Punky and I got into the car and I looked over the list of sex offenders.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Now there were two nice looking ones for you to date.

ME: Moving on with the perverts. [looking at my list]

PUNKY BREWSTER: [sigh] I can't wait to tell the boss I found two nice good looking men for you and you looked down at the sex offender list and said, "moving on with the perverts "

ME: Yep.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Have you noticed today all the sex offenders answer the door without shirts on.

ME: Yep. It's disgusting. Lots of moobs out today.

We made a citizen contact on the street. Punky and I thought the contact was very disturbing and it made us contemplate things later in life...like how your tattoos look when you are old. I told her I wouldn't care about my tats at that age. However, plastic surgery was another thing. The citizen contact really made me do a double take on any aspirations of plastic surgery I might have had.

PUNKY: That freaked me out.

ME: Me, too. They were like all up in my face, pointing at me.

PUNKY: Ew. What am I going to do?

ME: Well, I can tell you one thing, I am not going to be your friend when you are 70. I don't need anything all up in my face when I try to wipe the drool off your chin.

PUNKY:  That was disturbing.

ME: Yes. I might have nightmares.

So...we met a 70 year old woman who didn't wear a bra. She didn't have to. She was perky. A size double D and perky at 70. Fake boobs. It was scary. I wish I had pics to share of this old woman with perky boobs, but it was too traumatizing. Just picture it. Or don't. Oy.

It was dark with no street lights. We were later assigned to foot patrol in the trailerhood. All of a sudden, a dark Suburban with limo tinted windows jumped the curb and stopped at my feet...and my gun... drawn ready to shoot the drunk idiot that tried to run me over. As we aimed for the window that was rolling down, we  were greeted with a site.

It was someone from Montana we did not know who apparently liked to get right up in the popo's face to ask a question. Or perhaps the person had a death wish. I don't know. He might have peed himself at the sight of our Glocks. Our show of force was quickly deflated as we were just looking at an idiot that had no regard for personal space or officer safety. If he had been anywhere else, he would have been toast.

Anyfreakshow, the driver wanted to ask about the safety of our ghetto as several officers had been noticed in the area. The driver's bling was bedazzling us along with the long black shiny hair, bright red lipstick, and long fingernails....and very large bosoms. We weren't looking there, they just appeared in our faces. I then was asked a barrage of questions regarding my hair and makeup choices and asked some tips. The driver departed after blowing us kisses and thanking us for our time.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Was that a drag queen?

ME: Yep. Never seen him around here, must be a new one.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Huh. He's something else. Crazy.

ME: It's the ghetto. Isn't it great? We didn't even have to shoot anyone, just exchanged makeup tips.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Yeah. That's what scares me. We almost got killed  over makeup tips.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Down At The Porn Shop

Check out the local news for the latest on the CPD shakeup. It's getting quite dramatic over there. 

Another night assigned to the ghetto. I think LIFE is just bliss. The encounters were "gihugenormous" fun as THE ROOK would say.

No sooner had we turned the corner of the PORN SHOP when we were flagged down. It just so happened to be to the parking lot of the PORN SHOP. There stood a man who resembled Carrot Top only without the fro. He was holding a hanger.

As I exited the patrol car, I tried to wipe off the smirk on my face with no avail. I think it is just natural to smirk when you arrive at a porn shop. The calls are always interesting and we proceed with caution. First rule of thumb-DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. My rookie mostly remained silent. I could sense he was not too keen on being there or maybe he wasn't too keen on what we were going to have to do there.  Maybe it was just the idea of him being at the porn shop. It was dirty. Shame. Embarrassment. Some people frown upon those establishments. To me, it was pure entertainment. It was a time for him to observe his FTO.

ME: What can we help you with?

RED RIDER: Could you unlock my car?

ME: We aren't allowed to do that anymore. I'm sorry. Can I call a locksmith for you?


By now, he was shuffling his feet and a little embarrassed. We called for a locksmith real loud on the radio and made sure we announced the PORN SHOP on the radio rather than the street address for the troops to giggle about and get a little free entertainment.

ME: You aren't from around here?

RED RIDER: No. Live about 160 miles east.

ME: Heavens to Mergatroid! You drove 160 miles to go to the PORN SHOP?
RED RIDER: No. I came here for counseling.

ME: Most people just say it like it is. Down here in the hood, no one cares you go to the PORN SHOP. You sure don't have to refer to it as "counseling."

RED RIDER: No. I mean real counseling.

ME: Yeah. What I'm sayin'.

PUNKY BREWSTER: [whacks me] He means psychologist counseling.

ME: Oh. Really? You came all that way for a mental health appointment?

RED RIDER: Yep. We don't have much at home. Two of them.

ME: I suppose you are related to them.


ME: Well, you are close to Nebraska. Small town.

PUNKY BREWSTER: [whacks me on the arm] Locksmith is here.

ME: Hi. Thanks for getting here so quickly.

LOCKSMITH LARRY: What happened here? Got a little quick to get out and lock your keys in?


LOCKSMITH LARRY: Get a little excited, did ya?

RED RIDER: *blink*blink*

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Visualize the Meaning of Dickhead

Intermission time. That bad leadership stuff gave me a headache. Time to move on to some real cop stuff. Here's a flashback from the days of The ROOK...

As I get older, I find my patience wears thinner. Is that good English?  Sounded a little redneck. Anycrazy, people have started to grate on my nerves. Perhaps it's because I have only dealt with stupid. At least...lately. However, when people drive you insane to the point you pipe up and words slip out accidentally on purpose...pick your prey. Wisely. I usually pick the big hairy ones who could use me to mop up the floor.

Saturday night and early this morning was filled with drunks. Not only was every deputy on a DUI, but we, the city cops, were loaded with our plethora of drunks.

Most of the night, THE ROOK and I were on special operations trying to find a state prison escapee and tracking a gang involved in stolen guns and dope. THE ROOK got his fair share of "undercover" operations. We were successful in conducting a felony stop with the ring leader with the stolen gun case. The prison escapee...not so much.

Late into the night or early in the morning...it all blends...we had a call for assistance from Officer Old timer who ran into some belligerent drunks outside our favorite biker bar. THE ROOK and I assisted. Reaching our destination, I jumped out while THE ROOK was driving to intercept the large biker who was meandering toward a Jeep in the alley behind the bar. Surely he was going to drive away and be a lethal weapon on the roadway, I made contact.

He was none too happy to see the PoPo...even my shining little face.

ME: Evening. You weren't planning on driving tonight, were you?

BIG RAY: Nope.

ME: Where are you headed?

BIG RAY: Up the road.

ME: So..what happened inside the bar? The ruckus?

BIG RAY: I don't give a shit. Their problem.

ME: Seems it involves you.

BIG RAY: Not talkin'.

ME: How much have you had to drink tonight?

BIG RAY: Enough.

ME: You got a ride home?

BIG RAY: [silence]

ME: You can talk to me or not. Don't really care. You don't have a ride, I'll give  you one...to the big Biker Bed and Breakfast on the hill. Your choice.

BIG RAY: Yeah. You fucking cops. It's never our choice. Fuck you. [He stumbled into the building and tried to walk away.] I have a ride.

THE ROOK: Hey, you can't walk around the city or down the sidewalk drunk. City ordinance. She asked you if you had a ride home.

BIG RAY:[Came back to us and spit near our shoes]Alright. I will wait here.

ME: Quit spitting.

BIG RAY: [smirk] Make me. Fuck that. Stupid cop.

ME: It's against the law, too...and gross. So...got money for a cab? We're trying to work with you, but our patience is running thin.

BIG RAY: Not paying for a cab. I don't have to. Came to the bar to get drunk. Going home. That's the way it is. Cops suck. Why don't you go find some real crime?

ME: We did that already. Now we are bored. That's why you are entertaining us.

BIG RAY: [smirk and spit again near my boot] There's another violation, lady. Maybe I'll hit your boot. What do you think of that? Huh? What do you think?

ME: Actually,  I think you are a fucking dickhead.

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*


So...we ended up taking Big Ray to jail without a struggle. He didn't care. He did, however, try to intimidate me all the way up the hill and inside the detention center. It was packed. Full house in the book-in area.

BIG RAY: Honey. [ blew me kisses] I'm gonna get you. You wait.

ME: Yep. Bring it, sister. Big man threatening a girl. You must be the pussy of the group.

BIG RAY: You'll see.

ME: Ok. I see. I visualize you as the lead pussy of your biker club. Yep. 

THE ROOK: [hits me in the arm]

ME: What?

We met up with Officer Fitness inside the deputies book in office after they put Big Ray in his cell. The cells have one small window for them to look out and us to look in.

I had my back to Big Ray, but I knew what he was doing. He was 6-3, 275, solid muscles, black hair, scruffy face, tats all over. He had black eyes that appeared hollow and evil. We had to use two sets of cuffs which barely went around his wrists. Visualize all that as a pussy. Why? Because he picks on girl cops.
At this moment, I am a girl warrior
 on the planet Zentora.

OFFICER FITNESS: He's creeping me out.

ME: Big Ray?

OFFICER FITNESS: Yes. The way he is staring at you. It's creepy. Like he wants to kill you.

ME: Probably does. Him don't like me much.

OFFICER FITNESS: I'm serious. I don't get creeped out. That is sinister.

THE ROOK: 5-foot nothin'. 100 pounds nothin'. She thinks she is tall and bulletproof. Why did you call him a dickhead?

OFFICER FITNESS: You called him a dickhead?

ME: Yep.

OFFICER FITNESS: Why did you do that?

ME: I cannot tell a lie.

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*

We walked out of the book-in area toward the sally port. As I left, I turned to Big Ray who was still standing at his window, smirking at me:

ME: [blew him kisses] Love you. Miss you.

THE ROOK: You are going to get your ass kicked one day from him. He hates you.

ME: Nah. He won't intimidate me. Dickheads. They are all the same. Wear their penis on their head. 

THE ROOK: * blink*blink*

ME: It's mostly small. Most of them are small. That I have seen. On duty. When they wear them on their head. It's true. 

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*

ME: It makes sense to a girl.

Wednesday, May 3, 2017


I've been busy at school. My advisor convinced me to do summer school. What? You say? Yes. So I have a research project and a class. If I don't get the research project done, I get an incomplete. This is very very bad. My professor warned me that rarely anyone completes the project in summer. This poses bad odds against Fargo. I like to gamble? Right now I have a 4.0 GPA. I cannot get an incomplete. First, I have to pay full price and not discounted if that happens. Second, it brings my GPA down. Bah, humbug.

I'm stressed out and it doesn't even begin until May 15.

Relax, Fargo. You are worried about things which haven't even happened yet. Duh. That's how I roll. I inherited this problem from both grandmothers. Thus, you must have concluded that it is a problem which is genetic and cannot be treated. So, I just deal with it. As a neurotic prisoner of my own mind. The brain does not shut off.

In the meantime, some good news. Another article on a national front: Pursuit Magazine. I am excited. This one is a little different. You might be intrigued. Please read and comment. Share it, pass it around. Click on it 2000 times. Get some traffic going. It helps.

Tuesday, May 2, 2017


I bet you all have thought, "What would Fargo have been like a man?" 

Fargo really is a man.

I came to grips with it. 

Well, someone decided to make me just that and put me in his book as a man character. I argued about this discrepancy and in real NFO language, he told me, "You are a man. Deal with it." I didn't even get a kiss with that statement. Then not only did I get told to be a man and like it without a kiss, I was asked to read about it. 

So by now you can understand if I am totally confused with my sexuality.

But Rimworld is not about that at all. It's sci-fi at its finest. It is so detailed with character building and descriptions to spark your wildest imagination that I can't really explain it. You just need to read it. Quickly you are there in that other world. It's like no other.

Yes, there are mechanical things in there above my head, but the story line is so fascinating. There is galactic chaos and universal politics. Plus a lot of combat. I like that, you know. 

I couldn't put it down. Not only did it take me to another world, but it was full of adventure and things I never could even dream about, let alone think someone could make them up. 

Or are they made up? I wonder if Curtis had any experience in area 51? It makes you curious. I mean, who can be that good with extraterrestrial details and planetary information if they weren't part of the X-files? In the military sense of it anyway. Maybe in his Navy days he was flying those things back and forth to Roswell and had conversations. 

It's just a question.

And by the time I was finished, I was a man named Ethan Fargo. And a damn fine one, too. So let me give you an intro from the author himself...

"After a chance encounter with Dragoons and Traders turns a routine planet exploration into a rout that kills his team and his career, Lieutenant Ethan Fargo, medically retired, wants nothing more than to hole up in the backwater Rimworld he’d explored and enjoy a quiet retirement far from people or problems.

Unfortunately, he's about to find out that he's not as retired as he wants to be, and that his new home system comes with dangers, politics, and Dragoon sightings of its own. What promised to be a boring retirement will turn out to be anything but."

Don't be scared. You will find your way through all the danger and journey. And you will be right there, fighting and sweating along with Lt. Fargo. Have your armor ready. Pick up your copy on Amazon. If you fancy, you should buy the first one in the series. It's great too!

And don't forget. I'm still a girl. 

Monday, May 1, 2017

We Are Farm Folks

I have never felt below standard until someone comes over in your construction zone of a house. And I rush around and think...no no no visitors. Wait a few months, K?

I mean it's really bad. I am making excuses for everything. And you can tell by the big eyes that most of these people would never live in such substandard housing. Like cardboard boxes might be one upping me right now.

It doesn't matter if you love your house to them. They see the disaster in front of them, and go, "People live here?"

Yep. With kids. *shudder*

It reminded me of the days of PoPo. I must have thought the same. Wait. I don't have poop buckets sitting around. My plumbing works and so does the house's. I guess I don't have meth issues, although it looks like a disguise. I'm really not a narc right now. I don't beat the kids nor the dogs.

The floors to the Harry Potter Haus are ripped up and down to the original hardwoods, except for the parlor which has the yucky carpet on it. These hardwoods are not refinished, but looking pretty rough. And then people.

People come over and I am embarrassed. It's funny how daily I get used to it and it doesn't bother me at all. The outside of the house is pretty pitiful with peeling paint and broken board siding. My barn roof leaks. It needs paint, too. No one can really see all the work I have done on the inside because it is mostly structural and those kind of fixes. Maybe my patchwork walls are not attractive and I should do something about them. I can't decide on paint colors either. I should just stop being such a wishy washy homeowner and get to crackalackin' before it gets more embarrassing when HGTV comes to give me the winning HGTV dream home.

"You have three dogs in here?"

Yep. Running free.  *shudder*

It's crazy. It's chaos. It's a fucking 19th century farmhouse. Animals are on farms. Like many. We resemble that. We are the farm.
It doesn't look so bad from this angle.

Welcome to the Harry Potter Haus. We are happy.

I am the queen of my double wide trailer early American reno home. It's crazy. It's chaos.

Yes, I am working on it. It gets done according to funds and time. Sometimes I have neither. We will fix it. Please come back.

We're different folks. You think my house is crazy? You should read my blogs.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Sexual Violence and Books...What the Erpie Derp?

Howdy! We are brought to you today by peas and carrots...

I am drowning in college finals and projects if anyone cares. I don't read the materials all the way and mostly skim them. Most of the time, anyway. It's a lot of text. I can't read past 10 words without falling asleep. I mean, who writes these textbooks anyway? Oh. The instructors. So boring. I write a lot of window dressing in my papers, otherwise known as bullshit. I do take my research projects seriously, however. I'm pretty exhausted. It is easier being a cop.

Yep. That's my comparison.

This is how I roll in college. 

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and the month is coming to an end. Please don't stop the good fight to reduce sexual violence.

 (Fargo going off the rails here)

I mean, if you choose to engage in violent sex like S & M, then that is your choice but don't force it on others. That's what I'm saying.

(back on the rails)

Anyway, I wrote a pretty bold ditty about rape culture here.   

(back off the rails)

Pass me around on Twitter and Facebook and share me like a Thursday hooker. 

I don't think that is probably very appropriate verbage near the topic, but I'm a funny person, but serious about reducing sexual violence. Make sense? Kapeesh? Kapeesh.

(derailed the train)

On the home front, Gotham City is suffering greatly and my old CPD is in turmoil. 🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀You can google it or read about it everywhere because it is just sad. I might have some things to say about that later. But for now, I'm studying, studying, studying...

I'm kind of a little pscyho about getting A's. I am making up for my undergrad which was horrific and boozy in nature. I think I partied my way to a degree at UW. No, I'm pretty sure I did.

Anyperfectionistproblems, here I sit. And wait. Group presentation today. I'm going to wing it. Why? Because I do.

Luckily, I have a mouth and I can just get up in front of people and roll some bs off my tongue and my instructor will be like...

Bravo. And I will smile and say thank you. In my mind, I will think...whew...another day another good day of coming up with some fluff to impress the teacher. I got this.

I think.

Please God, it's me Fargo. Please let me get A's. 🙌🙏

Friday, April 21, 2017

Sometimes You Just Get A Bag Of Dicks

Sometimes police work isn't fire, death, and roses or even adrenaline rushes. Most of the time it is filled with random or strange calls to service. 

Once in a while you get a stinker of a dead body. Boy, those sure make your day go to hell in a hand basket. I guess that is what makes the job so much fun. No one wants the buzzer on the hot potato game, right? Bonk! You get the dead body, Fargo. 

Actually, that's the great thing about being an ev tech. Sorry, dudes! I gotta take pictures and log evidence. I can't help you haul that guy outta here. I have a really bad gag reflex and luckily most of the guys were super accommodating to me. I lurved their kindness. Truly. I didn't want to ever embarrass myself in front of a family. 

But there are days where shit happens. I suppose you think this post is going to be about a cool homicide or a really old stinky dead body. Nope. Not at all. It's about the random bag of dicks you get thrown sometimes. 

But a lot of patrol can be boring. Or humdrum. That's OK too. You need it to break up the great stuff. Even though you have to right mundane reports on the stuff, you never know what you are going to get...

My first day back was not unusual. After being filled in from the crew that I missed an exciting arson, assaults, a fatality or two...a rapist...and more calls on the board than cops available...I was sure to have an exciting first day.
Yep. My day was as weird and creepy as this hippo cat.

The first call as darkness fell was a possible residential burglary in progress.SUPER! Let's go get those bastards!

I got to the scene and blacked out. I was informed the reporting neighbor would meet me halfway down the street. As I approached the area on foot, I saw....


...a short balding hairy Italian man in thin boxers with the hatch flopping open exposing Mr. Wanky. I mean, seriously? When, in his infinite wisdom, did this man think that was a good idea?

After being traumatized by a one eyed snake, the call turned out to be-you guessed it- BOGUS.

Next we received a call from another jurisdiction on a possible domestic hostage situation. BONUS! Let's go!

Finding the address where "Mr. Psycho ex-cop" may be holding his wife hostage was a crap shoot. We had to ping phones, comb old computer records, and link associates. It was more work trying to locate the crime scene than anything. On the third address to check, I was greeted by a very drunk man answering the door.


It was a hairy Cajun man holding a pillow on Mr. Wanky. If that wasn't bad enough, sometimes when he laughed, he would use the pillow to cover his face. I would holler out "WHOA!! WHOA! PILLOW! PILLOW!" And he would smile with embarrassment and say, "OH, sorry, Ma'am."

His situation was a little more understandable because he answered the door in the early morning hours and grabbed the first article of concealment he could muster. But still, why me? He was only a new tenant living at an old known address where the suspect used to reside. He had no information.

Later, when we found the subjects, the call turned out to be-you guessed it-BOGUS!

The entire night, was turning out to be very disappointing until we had a drive by gang shootout. BONUS! Let's go!

While going to that call, I was diverted to a strange drunk man who turned up at a neighboring house.  Come on, dispatch. I want to go to the fire! But I did as I was told. Sometimes we override them, but this was a case where enough were going to the big tire fire, so to speak, so I could go to the weenie roast. As I was directed to the people's living area, I saw a very intoxicated Native American man in shorts with Mr. Wanky peeping out. Literally, a weenie roast.


In his act of desperation in getting away from his assailant, this man ran to a nearby residence. He was a victim/suspect who appeared on the front steps of this home. You may only understand what a victim/suspect is if you are a cop. Think about it. It is exactly what it sounds like it means.

It turns out the call wasn't related to the shooting and he and his wife beat the tar out of each other at a nearby house. This was a night she won. He was the loser. In many different ways, that is.

The night drudged on with boring calls and periods of silence.

To my dismay, the entire night was filled with a bunch of weenies.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Summer Pool, Schweaty Balls, and Other Flavors

Captain's Log:


Current status: Frazzled from Grad School Meteor Shower

Navigational readings: Dazed and confused

Ship's course: Steadfast ahead

I think Oliver is feeling the effects as well.

So, meanwhile, I will be starting another research project, working on a final exam essay response paper, a group project, and discussion boards. Is there enough Advil and wine in this world? Just kidding. I don't write my papers under the influence.

However...here is a blast from the past about the first time bath salts started to float our way into Gotham City...

Interesting topics always pop up in briefing. For instance...we all discussed the latest craze that started with teenagers experimenting. 

And where they come up with this stuff is beyond me...but yet another product on the market that we will probably end up regulating. 

Can't anyone just use the products the way they were made and intended?

LT. KANOOK: Everyone knows of the newest thing where they are smoking the bath salts?

OFFICER BIG CHEESE: Yeah. Everyone should know they are smoking these bath salts, hallucinate like LSD, then do something crazy..usually driving into a house or something.

ME: So...I bet we can guess what the best flavor is for the biggest high.

OFFICER SAVVY: Cucumber melon?

OFFICER SHINY KEYS: I'm liking musk...no wait....sandalwood.

ME: Jasmine moonlight

CAPTAIN: Ocean breeze.

ME: Yeah. Ocean breeze has to give you the biggest high. It sounds like its from California.


THE ENGLISH: Bacon. Bacon flavor.

ME: Would that be a pun on cops? I think bacon flavor would totally be ironic.  What about Schweaty Balls? 


ME: What about "Boob Schweat"? "Dirty Money?"

OFFICER SHINY KEYS: Hey, Big Cheese, does it show up what flavor on the test? [laughs]

OFFICER SAVVY: Yeah...what color is their tongue...does that show what flavor?

ME: I wonder if we can tell if it is "Wet Dog" or "Sorority House Rose" or "Yankee My Wankee" or "Blueberry Bromance" and stuff. 

[laughs from the team]

BIG CHEESE: You guys are so funny. This is serious stuff.

LT. KANOOK: No seriously. It's like an epidemic with kids now. You guys need to be aware of this and take it very seriously. Call Big Cheese if you need some assistance. He was informed on the last conference and we have been seeing a lot of here already. 

ME: Yeah. Make them breathe on you so you know if you are dealing with quality brands or generic flavors. It could make a difference in their highs. 


OFFICER SHINY KEYS: "Oh, yeah, officer...I forgot to tell you my dealer's name is Bed, Bath, and Beyond."

Yes, we amuse ourselves. 

Friday, April 7, 2017

Momster Chronicles #450984

Good morning! May you have a peaceful day full of awesome sauce! In the sweetness of friendship, let us share light, happiness, and exchange pleasures. And you, sir, are still going to be ugly in the afternoon when I am sober. Just kidding. I'm sober now.

I bet you didn't know that I just globbed a bunch of brainy quotes together for that compilation of hogwash. Well, it isn't all hogwash. I do wish good things upon all of you.

To lighten our spirits, I must share some great parenting skills. Being a cop has many advantages in parenthood. There are obvious reasons, but the best is my art of interrogation skills. The kid doesn't even know what hits her..

"Mom, I have done something that you don't know. I am not going to tell you. It's a secret that some of my friends know."

"Did you have sex?"

"What! No! I am not that kind of girl! You should be proud to have me. I have told everyone I wear a purity ring and I mean it."

"Well, that's good. I'm proud of you. I'm not ready to be a grandma. And don't ask me to take car of your kid, er..my grandchild. I am too busy trying to life myself, let alone life for you. Did you decide to go to first base?"

"Kissing? I have done that. You know. I told you."

"No, the boobs."

"Ew. Gross, mom! No! Everyone in my school knows not to touch me."

"Wow. That might be seen as a challenge to some or a lifelong spinster sentence, and maybe to the good boys...a deterrent." 


"Never mind. Are you going to tell me you use tampons now?"

"Ugh! Mom, you know I tried them and I didn't like them. I use pads. What do I always tell you to buy at the store? Pads."

"You better not have tried pot. Have you been hanging out with potheads?"

"Mom! I don't do drugs and you know it! My friends don't either. We don't talk to those kids."

"Some kids peddle scripts to get you started on something and that is the big thing now."

"You are making me mad! I can't believe you think I would do drugs."

"Well, I know you have drank alcohol."

"That was in front of you. You gave it to me to try and I spit it out. It is nasty!"

"Well, how do I know you didn't acquire the taste or go to a party and start drinking."

"Mom. It is gross. I don't even drink pop."


"I caught you that one day you stole the car."

"I didn't steal the car. I drove it when you were gone and parked in the garage to clean it. "

"Still. That's very bad. You don't have a license."

"I have a permit."

"Not the same. End of discussion. No more of that because you will be only riding a bicycle if you break more car rules. Stealing cars is the gateway crime to robbing banks and homicide sprees. So if you are thinking about having sex, you can talk to me."

"Mom! I am not doing sex. I am waiting for marriage."

"Well, maybe we should talk about your school stuff."

"What about it? I have all my homework done."

"Well, don't be cheating on an exam for school or helping anyone cheat. You have to keep your grades up for your scholarship. And cheating will get you no where fast. It's  like worse than being Satan. Colleges won't look at you. You might be able to get a job at Burger King, though."

"Mom, I am an overachiever and I only do it myself and you know that! Stop saying bad stuff about me! It's making me mad!"

"Well, I just worry about you. I don't want you to get arrested or in trouble at school. Have you robbed a bank lately?"

"Mom! My parents are cops! I can't do anything wrong because you will know. Then my head will be through a sheet rock wall as you say."

"No. That's what I said about my childhood if I got in big trouble. But, I might repeat history if you are naughty. Genes and all. So what was it you wanted to keep secret from me?"

"Mom! I'm not going to tell you."

"Did you kill someone?"

"I am a very moral person. You don't even know your own daughter. I am done! You don't get me! I am going to go do some homework. You better learn that you are lucky to have me as a daughter. I could be a rotten kid. They are out there, you know."

[stomp, stomp]

So I called after her as she stomped away, "I don't think it is really that nefarious of a secret since I just used a process of elimination..."

I got no response.

See what I did there.

My daughter has never tried drugs nor had sex. She is still wearing her purity ring. She hasn't even gotten to the touchy stuff. In fact, I would say she is a big chicken shit when it comes to breaking norms or moral codes. She isn't using tampons which I wouldn't care if she was. She is not cheating or helping anyone cheat. She is not doing crime. She is not drinking alcohol. Although she felt guilty about moving the car without my permission, she learned her lesson.

I feel pretty good.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Nerdly Thinktank Reports


What does it mean to you? Score? Baubles in my pocket? Change in my pants?

Let's get our nerd on.

I used to read so intently when I was young because I loved the fantasy and inserting myself into the story. Who didn't?

No, I did not read porn books. I have. But I don't. For some reason I could never get into them because I thought they were corny. For instance, how can you get all hot and bothered from "Finn put his sword in her warm, moist shaft." Ew. I used the word moist. (giggle) Maybe "wet" would have been a better word choice. It was just an example. See. I would totally suck at writing romance novels.

(giggle) She used the word "suck."

So it does nothing for me, you see.

I always liked "other" books and totally skipped the romance section. That might be why I have such personal relationship issues. I don't know. It's worth contemplating. Perhaps there is research on that.

It brings me to another phenomena in the book industry. Why do we call it a blow job when you actually suck and lick? I don't get it.
Think about it, bitches. You could be Lagertha. 

Ladies and gentlemen,

Try blowing on a dick and see where that gets you. I dare you. 

I would really think it might ruin some sort of climatic moment. Just a thought. But the research of the whole idea might be amusing.

Words are so funny, aren't they?

They can be a sword to your heart, or a ping in your groin.

I still read a lot and most of late it has been text books. This poses a problem of no stimulation. Mostly boredom.
I love to read. I can't understand nor comprehend those who either don't like to read or really hate to read. I try to understand, but I can't. I might be able to understand somewhat if a person has difficulties or disabilities with reading and writing. In which case, my heart bleeds for that. I think it should be something for all and those who have challenges, should be helped. If a person chooses not to, then that is their choice, but the opportunities should be abundant.

And if you liked to read, you can read porn in secret and not have it blast throughout the house on television where your significant other might catch you. You could even go be the Master Baiter of your domain in a small space without cords.

Sex drives the world you know. It sells shit. It makes us like shit. It makes us do bad shit. It makes us demand shit we probably should not demand. It makes us want shit we can't have. It makes us spend money on it. It makes us interested in shit. It gives us ultimate pleasure. Sometimes it gives us cramps.

Really it drags us around by the nose.

Think about it. No, don't. You pervert.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

NOT The Most Embarrassing Moment In Cop Work

Man, that was too heavy of a post last time. Fuck that shit. That's what happens when I get too deep in the internet with news and conspiracy theorists. My cop brain starts acting like it's on full dumb shit mode. Or maybe the NSA paid me to say that.

Let's lighten the load. It's pretty dark and drizzly in some neighborhoods right now, including my old one and bless their hearts.

So to preface this day and these situations, at one time when our teams were operating with one sergeant, they appointed a veteran officer whom they trusted to run the shift. That so called person for a time on my shift was me. I would like to think I made my sergeant look good by making sound decisions and not fucking up the place. And yeah, I probably wasn't favored by all because I was a girl with a brash attitude. But I tried to be fair and rule with emotional intelligence. If they didn't like me, well fuck them. Not really, but it sounded tough. I think it went all good back then. If I had discord, it was silent. I would have addressed problems. 

Anyway, back to the way I represented the Sarg: I also liked to say things which made him golden in the eyes of the upper echelon. My Sarg is now a lieutenant and the lieutenant became captain and the captain became chief and is now on the city council. I was always and remain to be me. 😂

Take things as they are inside a police organization where you defend the citizens with your life and back each brother or sister in blue in all circumstances of danger. The police brotherhood is often fun and a positive police culture develops a lot of smart asses. I might have been one of those. 😎

I was in charge again. The Sarg was away...the mice will play...or something. I always have to make the Sarg proud when he is gone. That way the Captain welcomes him back with open arms. Sarg always tells me that the Captain gets mad at him when he is absent for vacation, training, sick, whatever. Sarg mentioned he doesn't understand why the captain gets so bent out of shape. Hmm. I wonder. Yeah. I have no idea. 😄
I'm in charge, bitches!

So, I was conducting briefing,advising the troops about all the chaos running amok in the city, what to be on the look out for, blah, blah. Then it was the Captain's turn to speak. He went over budget concerns.

CAPTAIN: We are cutting back 4 police officer positions, several thousand dollars in other funds, some civilian positions. All jobs will be lost through attrition. No one is getting a raise this year and health insurance is probably going to increase by 30%.

TROOPS: [moans, groans, bitching]

CAPTAIN: I do have some good news about our fleet, however. Apparently, Ford is discontinuing the Crown Vic package. They are going to a Taurus package. I'm not too keen on the Taurus. We had them before and they sucked. But I ordered the new all wheel drive Dodge Chargers. They go real, real fast.

TROOPS: [cheshire grins]

CAPTAIN: And I worry about some of you people tearing them up when you drive off road or not where you are supposed to go with a car. [turns to me]

ME: What? I have to save people.

CAPTAIN: [rolls eyes at me] So, the new Chargers will have the new paint job and we will slowly replace all the Crown Vics over time. Just don't fuck it up.

ME: Awesome. It's all about looks. We are going to look smoking hot. [cheshire grin]
Yep, I'm driving a new modified muscle car. 

CAPTAIN: * blink* blink*

ME: What? No one's going to mess with me when I come out of a Charger. Badass bitch coming out of a badass car.

TROOPS: [cheshire grins]

LIEU: [giggle]

CAPTAIN: * blink* blink*

ME: What?

CAPTAIN:  We're going to get a lot of complaints from the public. Apparently, the all wheel drive models only come with a tricked out interior and leather seats. I had to have IT design a new console to get the computers and other radio gear in there. And they only come with a console shifter...no gears on the dash.

ME: That's super! Awesome! I am going to look so cool. We can just tell the public the seats are PLEATHER.

CAPTAIN: *blink* blink*

ME: What?

CAPTAIN: We also have to be careful with the leather seats. They will probably last longer than the other kind as long as our gear doesn't cut them up.

ME: And don't drive naked because your ass cheeks will stick to the seats. [cheshire grin]

LIEU: [giggle]

CAPTAIN: *blink* blink*

CAPTAIN: I also ordered Tahoes so that every cop has 4-wheel drive on their shift in the winter, combined with the sergeant's Durangos. We should have 4-wheel drive for everyone. And we have to take care of them because the city manager told me to never ask for those again. But I had to show him why we need 4-wheel drive in the winter. And we are going to equip them with evidence equipment, shields, and extra gear. So, whoever drives them will be in order of priority...evidence technicians or whoever has it will have to respond with the gear to special calls.

ME: Well, you could have just ordered magnetic 911 signs to go on our personal trucks for winter to save money.

LIEU: Yeah, pay us government mileage [giggle]

CAPTAIN: * blink* blink*

ME: I would have to say I would get to calls a lot slower in my personal vehicle than if I was driving my police cruiser, tho.

CAPTAIN: Pray tell, why is that?

ME: 'Cuz I wouldn't drive my personal vehicle like I stole it...like I do my g-ride.

CAPTAIN: [hangs his head in shame]You are going to be the death of me.

I later found many uses for them such as a great way to haul some evidence: 

While it is true, I got chewed out over this, it served the purpose needed on this date and time. I think the lieutenant was more worried about it being on the internet or a YouTube sensation. No worries. That would NEVER happen.

And yes, I would have done it again if need be. 

Later, the captain, now city council member, would say the purchase of the Dodge Chargers proved to be an error due to their expense. I would beg to differ. I think they were splendid. So what if they cost the city money? They were awesome, cool, safe, and very, very fun. Oh, and fast. I liked fast. 

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Tune Into To SKN

For all I know, this could be a fucking raven.
Pinterest doesn't know the difference.

What I find interesting today is there are a lot of crow festivals going on out there. 

Kackaw! Kackaw! 

It must be served up for every meal lately with a little garnish of parsley. I wonder if the feathers were plucked off well before dining commenced. And how about that side dish of crickets? 

What, Fargo, do you mean by that? 

Well, it seems the Susan Rice escapades have silenced a lot of media and the shift toward really grasping for fact finding is starting to turn. Perhaps. Don't count your eggs yet. 

I still think of everything as skewed news. SKN. "Skin" for fun. Skewed News. That's kind of catchy but it sounds like a porn channel. 

But has she really done this? Is it fake news? The left seems to say so. What about the emails and spreadsheets released about it with her name on it? Oh, silly Fargo, those can be faked. Someone had to get thrown under the bus, right? Whatever. I think Nunes went the route he did because if he went straight to the committee first, they would have silenced him. So he plays stupid befuddling politician and says, "oops sorry, I skipped step B accidentally." He apologizes for his misstep in reporting processes. Whatever. He did that so he wouldn't get thrown under the political bus. The bus is rolling and runs over a lot of people who don't conform. At least that is my theory. I don't really know for sure. I don't even know the guy. 

Mainstream media were slowing their roll and didn't really seem too enthusiastic to expose the news blast of Susan Rice's "unmasking" scandal. 

Whatever happened to all of us just watching and reading and absorbing but remaining silent until all the facts come out. Wait. We would be skeletons if we waited that long because we will never get all the facts.

Do I think the government officials and politicians do some dirty, underhanded things? Duh. That is a no brainer. 

Oh no! Have the American peeps been led astray and lied to by politicians? Tell me it isn't so. Who do we trust? Pffst. No one. Learn the rules of cop 101. Don't live in a fog. But don't live too far in the paranoid jungle either. 

For so many years now, the media outlets have been sensationalized, skewed one way or another (yes-left and right), and purporting some agenda that they seek. No one cares! Isn't that astonishing? 

I do, but no one cares about that either and certainly dismiss what I think. What happened to reliable news sources and integrity and the truth by reporting both sides? I think it went out the window when we hit moral bankruptcy. I don't know if we ever had truthful news but it was better than what we see now. It really is sad that journalism is thought of as a watchdog, a checks and balances to the government, but now has been played. I think sometimes that shit is spoon fed to us like sugar is our American fat crack.

Funny. I find all this funny. Not as in "funny haha" nor "funny odd" but "funny ironic."

I've been complaining about biased news for years. We long for real news about facts from both sides, not propaganda. So now we all have to question what is real or thought to be real and what is the bait put in front of us as a nation. 

Oh, you are just a paranoid former cop, Fargo. 

Maybe so. 

But I also like to the be the sheep at the end of the herd so when the first batch goes off the cliff, I have time to change my direction before I become some slaughtered lamb. 

I think if you took a news article and circled every fourth or fifth word and then wrote a sentence with it then combined it with another news source article conducted in the same way, you might start to find some factual basis. It's like the DaVinci code only not as cool. 

Is it binary code?

Who are we all kidding? We love conspiracies! They are so fascinating! It's like a mystery puzzle or something. Ok. It IS a mystery puzzle. We are all shitty sleuths. Say that three times fast.

What if the press has been sending us code all these years and we didn't know it? 

I kill myself. I know. I'm the only one giggling at my warped humor because none of this is really funny. I loved Clint Eastwood's famous liner that " President Obama is the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people."

Sure, I know Clint was a short lived politician and he is a world famous actor. He is pretty smart and a great film maker. I think he also might have some foresight into some things. Maybe I'm going a little too far. Does this mean I think Trump is perfect? Hell no. 

But I think they underestimated him when they treated him like a stooge. 

Hey, look. I want all our American presidents to succeed. 

It's our country for Pete's sake. But I'm not following any leader into a dark tunnel without picking apart everything and taking a look for myself. I'm not hooked up to the plow. I certainly don't get pulled around by a leash. Or at least not in public. Bwahahaha! Ok. That was a bad S&M joke. Ew. 

I have never blindly followed nor 100% loved a president and all their actions. I have supported all of them and claimed them all as my president whether I liked them or not. But I don't think they come without flaws. I have never seen so many people blindly love any other president more than Obama or so many hate one as deeply as they do Trump. I think there was more love for Nixon. 

Even Kennedy wasn't loved as much as Obama and he was assassinated almost as if he were a martyr. Was it a conspiracy? Was it mob? Was it really a lone wolf? 

Well, I can tell you one thing about that whole incident. He was killed. 

The movies surrounding it are sure entertaining. I try not to get too deep into that but not discount everything. Does that make sense?

I worked in government long enough to know you can hear his and her stories and somewhere in the middle is the truth. You may never find the real truth. I believe the "Good Old Boy" network is the demise of any organizational harmony. Sure, there are alliances and divides in every establishment. However, when they start working to disarm an organizational purpose to promote greed or self-propel personal interests then you have lost sight of what you stand for. 

PUBLIC SERVICE, people. That's what government work is all about. 

You can tell the media is going down the tubes in credibility when they report #PenceRule is shameful. I would have the same rule if I were a politician so that no rumors or innuendos could be started about me. It's a scandal free idea. And who wouldn't want to dine with their spouse at dinner?  We are now making it a feminist movement and turned it into a piggist attack on woman type of ideal he has. What? I don't get it. Oh, that's right. If you are a Christian, you must be crazy to want to keep family values. Do we need shields and swords? Are the Pagans trying to annihilate Christians again? Vampires? Which is it? Is that all you can do to pick Mike Pence apart? I don't agree with all his policies. How about we cremate those? But is he bad because he is good?

Heavens to Murgatroyd! I sound like John Grisham. Maybe I should write conspiracy novels. I could call it, "A Tale of Two Crows" or "The Lone Sparrow Brief." 

I think I just went off the grid. My marbles are surely lost. I guess I can't play jacks anymore. 

Is everything a conspiracy? No. But the true facts are not always known to us either. Like ever. Even as a police officer I hold secrets I can't tell the public and would deflect the information if pressed. All organizations hold secrets. Remember that. 

So have we all lived a distorted view of history or airbrushed pictorials from what some small handful of officials want us to believe or know? Who knows? My life is pretty bliss, so I will take it. 

Thank you, Bob Ross. Happy birds. Pretty trees. Purple mountains.