THE undisputed drama queen

I have a secretary named Rachelle. I love her to death, does a fantastic job for me and will tell you that she has drama in her daily life ALL THE FREAKING TIME. She seems to deal with it pretty well usually, it's Mike I worry about. Mike is her "night time husband" (cause that ass is mine during working hours) and I can't believe what all he goes through.

When I say drama, I mean drama. Trouble at school, trouble with a coach, someone is sick, a family member is into dope or something similar, there's a crackhead screaming at the end of the drive at 4 a.m., there is something all the time. And it isn't the drama that gets me, it's the way she works Mike to death in the few minutes he isn't dealing with the daily drama and his regular job (Hi Afco).

This man tolerates an unbelievable amount of "maintenance" to keep home happy. Rachelle decides, on a whim, she wants the house to look different. A few months later... new furniture throughout, new hardwood floors, new trim, new cabinets, and I think they lack finishing a bathroom remodel. They have also had to add on a "man-room", which required hand-pouring a lot of concrete and a lot of construction to give Mike a much-needed escape from the house.

Then there is "relax" time. Have to be here or there for a game or a ride or to visit a friend, ALL the time. Rachelle decided one day that she wanted better grass in her yard. She had Mike dig out all the grass, till the yard and lay an obscene amount of money in sod. No person should spend a lot of money on grass unless the SuperBowl is about to occur on that lawn. Kill the grass you don't like, seed the shit out of it, water it, fertilize it, and let it grow. It will grow, they grew the grass that you bought.

I know Mike puts in a ton of hours at work and it is probably relaxing to him. I can't blame him at all. Hell, I can spend an entire weekend laying around watching the tube and scratching my nuts when I know there are chores that need to be done. I just don't want to. I do shit, I build shit, but not all the damn time.

Rachelle, give the man a break. He's worked so much he is actually used to it and no man should do that much. Give him the remote for a weekend (isn't it a felony to hoard the remote from the man of the house?) and let him rest!!

Some things the misses shouldn't do

My ex and I have had some issues, pretty much gotten over those issues, and now she is banned from certain chores. Let me say that she isn't stupid; she appreciates luxuries such as boats, campers, riding lawn-mowers and the like, but she should not be in control of any of them.

First clue. A buddy and I are camping for a few days on the lake. We both take our boats, get the camper set up and plan to drink, fish, cook and camp straight through the scheduled vacation. I invite Tasha down one night to eat, drink and sleep over with us. She arrived and for some reason had to take my truck (which is towing the boat trailer) somewhere for something. She hasn't had anything to drink and off she goes. She returned a short time later and is now tasked to back the trailer into the parking space. She almost ripped the rear bumper off the truck twice before I had time to run across the campground screaming at the top of my lungs to quit. "It wouldn't go straight" she said in a frustrated voice... so she went faster?

So then I agree to buy a Sea Doo jet boat for her and the kids to go to the lake in. Have I lost my freaking mind? She obviously can't back a trailer. She has no idea what so ever how a boat works, how to fix anything, and I buy her a boat to take my kids onto a large lake and trust that they will all make it home safely. What a dumb ass.

Second clue. We have the boat, it's a jet boat, I have explained that the boat intakes water (and anything else in the area) into the motor and exhausts that water to power the boat. Having anything other than water enter the intake is very bad. We know this because we sucked a tow rope into the intake once and the boat simply won't run. So on this day the lake is down, the grass is matted and all over the lake and I simply bring it to her attention (as she takes the kids for a ride on the tube) that you shouldn't run the boat over that thick grass. But she did. So 100 yards from shore the boat won't go, although the engine will rev and smoke, it's barely moving.

She's pissed, I'm pissed, I have to drag the boat to the ramp by hand and pull it out to find 20 feet of grass hung in the intake. It was so thick I had to wait until it was dry to free it from the intake. So Tasha is banned from backing a trailer and driving the boat in shallow water. The boat is for sale actually (as well as my house and cat) anyone interested should comment.

Third clue. Tasha has about 2 acres of property that has to be mowed. Push mowing that much land is an all day affair. Get done and you're sweating your ass off and hands feel like pins and needles from the vibration. So her dad gives her a riding lawn mower. It's old but works fine. Until Tasha gets ahold of it. Can you believe she was just mowing when all of a sudden, for no reason, one of the two blades bends itself all to Hell and warps the mount? Now she can mow on the left side of the mower and plow on the right. Her dad came and fixed it. That leads us to...

Fourth clue. The mower is fixed. She has (or should have) learned that the mower is not an Army tank, you can break it. So she promptly tries to mow the metal pipe in the ditch at the road. Don't know why, but it's making a very strange noise and all of a sudden she can mow on the left side of the mower and plow on the right side.

She is banned from the riding lawn mower. My 11 year old daughter is allowed on the mower, but Tasha is banned.

The War in Iraq

A good friend of mine was home on vacation from Iraq for a week and I had the opportunity to talk with him about the American presence there. What an absolute waste of time and money!!

He is there as a civilian training the new Iraqi Police. Well, that's the mission... what actually happens is they take guys in, arm them with weapons and armor, teach them to shoot, and send them out to be the new-and-improved, more democratic police. A few days later the US Army goes out, kills a bunch of insurgents, brings them back to camp only to find they are the same people they just "trained" and armed. It's a revolving door and a concept that only we as Americans seem to understand.

These people do not want and will never have a democratic government or free way of life no matter how much we want them to or how often we bomb the shit out of them. They don't care that we are rebuilding everything be blew up, it isn't going to sway their beliefs. Look, these people blow themselves up... WILL BLOW THEIR SELF UP because they believe what they believe. How many Americans are willing to walk into a mall wearing a bomb and blow their self into fish bait over a political point of view? I don't know of any.

This is a country full of suicide bombers that will never, ever stop believing that they are absolutely right and we are absolutely wrong. So come on Pres, get our guys out of there. Screw the Iraqis let them build their own roads and bridges, give them something productive to do.

Tired of crackheads

I have dealt with crackheads for years and years. They are very fun to buy dope off of and otherwise completely useless. They are the most pathetic life form on Earth.

Here's what happens... they try crack, they like crack for some reason and before they wake up the next morning they have an addiction stronger than the need to breathe. Consequently, within a day or two, they have no money, no property of any tradeable value, and are prepared to do anything for another rock. I mean ANYTHING!!!! I have home video of a crackhead drinking piss for $20 worth of dope. I know another crackhead that had a $1200 lien on a car that he paid $400 for. Just yesterday met I another. She spent $1200 worth of FEMA and tax return money on crack and then ran out of money. So she slept with a dealer or two and got some more crack. When the money and dope was gone she was faced with two problems... 1) I have a boyfriend and no money all of a sudden... 2) I'm white and my boyfriend is white and the guys I have been sleeping with (without protection) are black and if I get pregnant... So she claimed she was robbed at gunpoint of her money and raped.

The story didn't hold water and it makes it even worse when you see a crackhead, especially one that has been on a binge. Let me break this down for ya'll. Crackheads are easily identifiable. I heard someone say once that they wanted some crack to lose weight (wrong drug). Crackheads are the brokest people in America. Their clothes are several years old, they haven't bathed, they haven't brushed their teeth, they haven't groomed and they don't give a shit. They typically have redness in the white's of the eye, burned and/or chapped lips and have skinny ass legs. I don't know why, I have asked and no one can explain it, but crackheads are generally skinny (because they spend money on crack and not food) but there are a number of crackheads that are fat and have skinny ass legs. It's a phenomenon. Be fat as hell, smoke some crack and look like an obese pelican.

Anyway, they are pathetic. Survey a crack house for an hour and you'll see. One will come down the road with a newly acquired $20 bill in hand, eyes big as hell, dirty, walking fast, with some skinny ass legs. Go in the crackhouse for about 3 minutes and out they come. Eyes three times bigger, walking so fast they trip with a fist balled up in the front pant pocket like it's holding a winning lottery ticket.

They don't have shit. No clothes, no car, no house, no food, no t.v., no puter, not shit. They have a habit and a pulse, that's all they have. They don't have a regular job, damn sure don't have medical or dental or any other benefits, and no retirement plan. The only plan they have is to steal some shit out of someone's shed hoping to pawn or trade it for dope.

If you want to lose weight call Jenny Craig or something, not the crack dealer.

Marriage is not about the booty

I am amazed that this concept baffles people. Now, the booty does have something to do with it, you have to be content with the booty you are married to. No doubt. But you can not marry just for the booty or lack of other booty opportunities.

I just want to make a point really quick. Got a guy working for me... he's young, good looking, sloppy as all get out, but can pull some leg. He had a girlfriend for years and they were constantly off and on. I mean twice a month they were broke up, then back together, then broke up and back together. That went on for years. They both cheated (repeatedly) and kept on with being on one day and off the next.

They eventually seperated and she moved off. His response? A ring, marriage and commitment. She moved back and they got married. Would you believe they divorced like a year later?

So now he is with another. Nobody likes her. She is loud, demanding, obnoxious, and he can't leave her because she is giving him booty. Yes, she looks good. She is toned and very strong and I think she should be boxing. She is a bitch.

He worked hard for the booty and has to play the situation carefully. He has spent a shit-load of money to help her or keep her happy. He even resorted to saying the sacred phrase (I heart U). Tonight he talked about another woman that he would really "love" to be with.

Men, look past the bedroom. Find someone that has some damn sense; that you, your family and friends can tolerate and you can be with. If your girlfriend is a righteous bitch and you really don't intend to be with her forever, don't tell her you love her and leave her in a state of "marriage suspense".

"T", I love you, have no problem at all and can't wait to be with you every day (again).

Under the influence and buck-ass naked

Here's the story. Last Friday a guy I know pulls into a local gas station to fill up before taking the kids back to mommy. He hits the parking lot to find a 30 or so year old black man in the parking lot with his pants down and obviously oblivious to what's going on. He tries to pull around and find a less offensive place to get gas, but "homie" jumps on the hood of the truck.

So the driver rolls down the window, and for some reason attempts to reason with this half-naked man in the gas station parking lot. Not a good idea, now "homie" is trying to come through the window, throwing punches all the while. The driver connects solidly with a left to the face. Assuming that did the job, he pulls into the highway. Nope, "homie" got the seat belt strap and is now in tow. So the driver continues to bludgeon this asshole. "Homie" is bleeding badly from the face, is still half naked and still hanging on.

So the driver pulls onto the shoulder, slows considerably and implores "homie" to let go. He doesn't. I guess the driver's fist was hurting at this point so he goes to the Mag Lite. After a couple of cracks about the forehead he tells "homie" to let go or else he will speed up. He doesn't let go so another smack with the Mag Lite is in order. The driver again tells "homie" to let go or else. "Homie" finally let go. Let go and fell under the truck, which promptly ran over his dumb ass.

Now the driver is concerned... didn't mean to run him over. So he turns around only to find an off-duty officer attempting to contact the half naked, half beaten to death man that just got ran over by a truck. The fight is on. A can of pepper spray later the Police resort to beating his ass.

When all is said and done "homie" goes to the hospital, tests positive for methamphetamine, PCP and marijuana. He then goes to jail for being naked in public, apparently attempting to car jack a truck while naked, and for fighting the Police. They learned later that the man lived over an hour away and was going to Houston, TX for the NBA All-Star Game when the people in the car got fed up with him and kicked him out at the gas station.

The percentage of black guys in this State that use meth or PCP is extremely low, less than 1/2 % of all meth and PCP arrests. So I deduce this. He gets a sack of weed and decides to smoke a blunt before making the trip. The weed is laced and an hour later he is completely out of his damn mind. He gets put out in a foreign place and an hour later...

Naked in public, face beat all to Hell, head cracked open by a light, pepper sprayed, beat again by the cops, road rash on your naked ass and who knows what else (Ouch!!), got ran over by a truck and in jail facing charges. See PCP is one of the only drugs in the country that will make you get naked, climb atop the local Sears store, threaten to kill everyone in town, get shot 12 times in the chest and not even know it happened. All from smoking a little weed. Yeah, let's legalize it.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

Believe it or not, a few short days ago the temp here was 72 with a threat of tornadoes. That night, 32 and a high probability of ice and snow. Crazy! Tee-shirts to snow boots in less than a single day.

Here's the gist of it... if you have an idea that the roads are going to be iced over, you keep your ass at home. Period. A number of weathermen(women) all say that the roads are going to be iced over, stay home, don't try to drive on it, etc. etc.

My first experience with this was about 8 years ago. Ice covered by snow, cold as hell and I'm supposed to be at work at 5 a.m. Only saw two cars in the ditch pulling out of the driveway in a minivan. Yes, a minivan. Decided to wait a while, tried a little later and ended up doing a 720 in the middle of the highway heading for a ditch full of ice water at only 30 mph. 30 doesn't sound like much, but you can't run 30 mph, can't peddle 30 mph, and when you're in a car, spinning in circles to an apparent icy grave, you are doing warp speed. At that point I didn't need a seatbelt, because the driver's seat was so far up my ass I was flossing with the head rest.

About three years ago, same scenario, ice on the road. It had let up and was expected again later in the day. The wife decides to go to church and on the way home totaled out her car and put she and the kids in the emergency room with minor injuries.

So here we go again. Ice is on the ground and we think it might be clear here and there. And Brianna has pitching lessons more than an hour away. I figure this is a no-brainer, we aren't going. Then momma calls. It's expensive and already paid for. Are you kidding me? We have all looked death in the face over iced roads and we are actually going to consider driving to pitching lessons? We talked very briefly about it, and thank God, we agreed. No driving on that for pitching lessons.

So two days later, most all the roads are open, just a few patchy spots of concern. I pull up and park in the drive (which is escalated) and shut the door. The truck slides 10 feet towards the road and I, like a dumbass, jump back in the truck. What did I think I could do? Step on the brake harder? It's ice, you can't stop it, you can't put it in park and set the brake any harder. I figured out later that, had the truck made it to the highway and got hit by some dumbass redneck in Corolla making a cig run, I probably would have died when I could have just stood there and watched the truck get killed by itself.

The Joy of Hunting??

When you live in certain parts of the country, definitely here, you hunt, period the end, or you are likely considered a gay, liberal, tree-hugger. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I guess, but if that defines "you", don't move to the South.

Deer is the quarry. I have learned that if you are going to hunt deer in "these parts of the woods" there are certain things you must have. High power rifle with high power scope, camo, certain high-grain ammo, scent-blocker, food plots, salt licks, 4-wheelers, gutting knives, tree stands and blinds, feeders, calls, grunts, rattlin' horns, decoys, a paid lease to hunt certain tracts of land, a "deer camp", binoculars, spotting scopes, range finders, a back-up weapon, safety harnesses, more ammo, permission to be away from the misses (mandatory at marriage, forget prenuptual financial agreement, it's pre-nup deer camp rights), and a shit load of beer.

In theory; you spend thousands of dollars buying clothes, beer, guns, scopes, leasing land, scents, feed, ploys, beer, ammo, vehicles, more ammo, blades, stands to hunt out of, and more beer. Couldn't you have bought a few deer at this point? To go out at 4:00 a.m. in freezing cold weather and "hunt".

The reality; all of these things are necessary.. eventually. The truth is, the concept of deer camp, especially in the first few days, is to be away from the house, get shit-faced with a bunch of other guys wearing camo and celebrating the fact that they are free that week, and wake up somewhere around noon hoping to shoot anything that comes along just say you have meat.

To the hard core, I say "why should I get up at 3:00 a.m. to cover myself in deer piss, walk 3 miles to a designated tree, to sit motionless in that tree for hour upon hour, hoping to see "the one", when my wife has a higher probability to kill "the one" on her way to work in an '06 Avalanche?" As a matter of fact she did, 10 point, big one. And she didn't spend a dime "hunting" only a $250 deductible.

Public schools have failed

When I started policing here there was a guy already on the force that could not spell much more than his name. That was probably a huge vocabulary accomplishment for him... spelling his name I mean. I couldn't believe it. Most areas of the country require some college before you can even apply to be a police officer, but let's face it, this is Arkansas.

This guy could not spell "front", "neighbor"... Hell he honestly couldn't spell the name of the school he graduated from!!! I am telling you my 11 year old daughter would whip his ass in a spelling bee when she was 3 years old. I am not kidding. I saw this man throw a temper tantrum when the department went to computers that had spell check and kept correcting his misspelled words. To make matters worse, he thought he was right. He threw a dictionary across the squad room and wanted to argue that both the computer and dictionary were wrong to correct him. What a freaking idiot.

You can only chalk so much of that up to genetics and lack of parental supervision. That comes down to school. If a kid graduates from High School he/she should be able to spell basic words and should definitely be able to spell the name of the school he/she graduated from.

Now I have Sam working for me. He can spell the name of his school, the name of his home town, and even his own name. Beyond that...questionable. At least he doesn't argue with the spell check or dictionary. He knows he can't spell, can't articulate. I told him today, "I would sue the shit out of your high school for a proper education".

Hey, I wasn't valedictorian, I don't have a master's degree (duh), but damn. I have seen A LOT of people out of high school that don't know a damn thing, people in college that are being passed for athletic contribution, and have experienced "favorites" in school where teachers look a blind eye to an idiot and come down hard on a kid with potential that isn't living up to expectations. I just wonder if the teachers give up on those they have to take in and can't do the basics because some other teacher dropped the ball and passed them, or if it's a collective effort among staff in the teacher's lounge. I mean, you get a kid, he is a bad ass, got some bad ass parents, and you have a choice... fail this bad ass kid that isn't ever going to amount to anything or pass him and just get him out of school.

Hell, I don't know. I just think that if a kid can't spell, can't add and subtract, doesn't learn a little about history and science... fail that dumb ass!! Make them do it over and over, despite their loud and belligerent parents, until they get it right.

Road rage improvised

Have you ever gotten road rage in a parking lot? I'm not talking about someone jumping in a space you had picked out or a car double-parked so it doesn't get a ding. I'm talking about a public display of ignorance that should give every on-looker permission to beat the piss out of someone.

Two examples... First we go the Boys and Girls Club in Hot Springs for a 5th grade girls basketball game. Now understand this place is located in Da Hood. You are more likely to get hit by a stray bullet in this neighborhood than you are likely to get hit by lightning while hugging the tallest tree in the forest during a thunderstorm with a graphite rod shoved up your ass. So I understand that everyone wants to be as close to the front door as possible, it's a shorter dash to cover. But damn, man, don't intentionally double park and block in a few cars that can't leave when you know they got there first and are likely going to be leaving first. We came out of the game and I am blocked in by a circle of cars and the in-laws are blocked in by one dumbass. I actually sized up the surrounding cars to see which one I could ease up to, put the truck in 4-wheel drive and push into the street to make an escape. Then I thought I would just call the closest wrecker service and tell them I locked myself out of one of the idiots cars. Just have a wrecker tow it off. Then someone decided to leave, giving me a way out. The in-laws had to go back inside and track down the owner of the car that had them blocked in. Quite a chore in a building with 8 different teams playing.

Then there's the middle school pick-up area. What a cluster fuck. There is no organized manner to do this. No pick-up/ drop-off lane or easy way to do this. Imagine a small gravel parking lot with one way in and out, room for about 50 cars total, there are 25 already parked there and 40 more parents are trying to get in and out to get the kids. What happens is the first parents park in whatever available space happens to be open and the rest form a line from the highway to a building where the kids appear after school. In theory, the lead car in line picks up their kid(s), finds a way to get turned around in the parking lot and make your way out so the line can advance.

So I am in line, with a shitload of other parents and there is this one minivan in the front. Apparently she is picking up half the kids in middle school that day. And not all at once, oh no, in five minute intervals. She is totally throwing the already enraging routine all out of whack. Move out of the way, find somewhere to park and wait for the entourage there. No one else can move. After 15 minutes of just sitting there I wanted to jerk her fat ass out of the van, beat her to the ground and run her over with her own van while I cleared the way for every other parent there.

Friendship etiquette

Someone needs to write a book describing how you should treat your buddy's property that you borrowed. I have loaned my truck to a number of people over the years and most "get it". Bring it back as clean as you received it and put some gas in it. Simple rules... so I thought.

About 2 months ago a job opportunity comes open for a guy that works for me. Go to New Orleans, guard a building for a week, make over four grand. That's good money for doing nothing, I mean, shoot a crackhead if he tries to seize the building, otherwise you are just there. The bad part... he has no car and you pretty much have to live out of whatever you drive down there for that week. Being the kick-ass boss I am, I offer up my truck and time off for him to go earn that money. He takes it. Now, I told him to just bring it back clean and get an oil change. That was it, clean it up (since it was clean when he took it) and change the oil (since he was going to drive a couple thousand miles). He went to New Orleans, stayed a week, came home. He brought my truck back clean ( drive-thru car wash and no junk left in the inside) with no oil change. When I say clean on the inside... there wasn't any trash. It smelled like ass, feet and cologne. It didn't smell like ass, feet and cologne when he borrowed it. And no oil change? What's up with that? I figured he was waiting to get his check. He got his check. No oil change. He opted for a tanning bed and a new dog. A tanning bed and new dog? What man buys a tanning bed and he bought a German Sheppard and lives in a trailer with no yard??? What???

Then last Thursday another "buddy" wanted to borrow my truck. He has a truck that is currently in the shop because his wife wrecked it... AGAIN, like the 4th time. AND I LET HIM! What the hell was I thinking? He is going to pick something up Friday and bring it back. Monday rolls around and I nervously call him to see if he is going to bring my truck back. He held my truck hostage all weekend long, not that I needed it, but still. And the brought it back with less gas than it had when I gave it to him.

The joy of fishing

I love to go fishing... can't say that it doesn't matter if I catch anything or not, I do go to catch, not just fish. It is better than working, catch or not. Just went yesterday and had a very good day thank you very much. But I was asked after the trip... "Why do you like to fish? You don't catch fish to eat them, why go fishing for them?".

Ok, I'm not on Survivor, but I just like the anticipation, the bite and the fight. But it did make me contemplate all the "adventures" I have had fishing.

First there was a trip to Gibbons Creek with Terry V. He forgot to put the plug in the boat and we almost sank. We could have swam to shore, but lost everything on the boat.

There was Terry E. talking me into going fishing on a private pond on a ranch in Bastrop, TX (which he said he had permission to fish). Turns out, we got caught by the rancher and were trespassing. No charges were filed, thank you Mr. Rancher, but not a comfy situation.

Then the second trip to Lake Fork with Gregg. Rent a boat, sleep 2 hours in 2 days and try to fish all day and all night in pitch black darkness and 20mph winds. I gave up. I was freezing cold, you can't see shit, the boat is pitching, and Gregg refuses to leave. I pour a Crown and 7Up. Gregg ties us (so he thought) to a stump and continues to fish. We came untied and, unknown to us, are drifting at 20mph across the cove. We slam into another stump, which Gregg falls into bumping his head, and I tumble into the floor under the driver's console, without spilling a drop. I think Gregg rubbed that boat against every stump we got close to. You couldn't even identify the boat. I refused to go with him to return it. They were irate and I think it cost Gregg over $1,000 just to get out of there.

My first trip to Lake Fork with Roy was entertaining. Again high winds and power fishing. He gets hung and is determined to retrieve his lure. Fortunately he was hung in 4 feet of water because we got close, he tugged and pulled, the boat shifted and he fell in. Had it been deeper water he may have drowned.

Then there was a trip to Caddo Lake with Roy and company. Beer was definitely in play all day long, and after Day 1 of fishing, "let's go to the bar". That's a good idea, a bunch of foreigners, drunk, with some money and going to a Hole-In-The-Wall bar to socialize with the locals. We almost got killed. Then Day 2. Freezing rain. I am not bullshitting, we had tears and boogers froze to our faces, and still went fishing.

And lastly, a fishing trip to my favorite fishing hole with Chad, yes Chad. Chad is large in stature and we are in a flat-bottom boat, which I am paddling around the pond. Very unstable situation. So we are fishing, close to the bank, and he's pissed because I am catching one after another and he can't cast to where I am throwing. So he decides to get up and turn around. Bad idea. The boat shifts, casts from one side to another and one of two things are about to happen...1) he is going to fall out of the boat or 2) he's going to fall out of the boat and take us with him. Thankfully, he knew he was going to be wet regardless and made the sacrificial leap into a very cold lake. Thank you Chad. But, you know, had that happened in the middle of the pond he probably would have died from hypothermia and/or we both would have died and/or lost all of our equipment.

Fishing is not considered dangerous and shouldn't be. But know, there are risks involved.

Go USA

Checking out the Winter Olympics and a couple things make me say, "Huh?". When did women start playing hockey in the Olympics? I am not opposed to it, just slower with less violent hits and no fights. Isn't that why people, well guys, watch in the first place? I say if the ladies are going to play hockey learn to fight. There is a great move during the fight when one player pulls the others jersey over their head so they can't swing or defend themselves. Works great, I used it on a chick one night during a minor domestic situation (just kidding). But it would be nice to see the girls throw down and then get de-clothed. Hell, guys would watch that all day long.

And then luge came on. What the hell?? How much shit do you have to smoke to do this? Ok, I've seen it before but it's more dramatic seeing it again. Here's the idea... sit on a souped-up sled just big enough to sit on that has been waxed and polished for maximum speed (without brakes), launch yourself down a tunnel of sheer ice that turns every hundred feet or so, lay yourself flat so you can't see where you are going, reach a speed of more than 85mph and pray that you don't wreck or fall off. I'm not sure how to steer this thing, but it's very subtle. Go too high in a turn and you will likely be launched off the track and into outer space. Go too low and crash violently into the wall.

Safety equipment must be very important. Nope... wrap yourself in colored saran wrap, put on some shoes and a helmet. Let's get back to the clothing. Aerodynamic it is, safe it is not. Very tight fitting body suit. Do not take Viagra that day, too much wind drag and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Some of the guys actually made me feel better about my natural endowment. So I guess if you fall off the friction and speed would basically incinerate your body. Oh, except your head, you have the helmet. Two good reasons to wear the helmet. 1) more aerodynamic, go faster. 2) they have to have some way to identify who just committed suicide on the luge track.

Fire!!

A quick blog about another public servant, the volunteer fireman. Most rural areas are served by volunteer firefighters and they are also very common to assist with full time fire departments. They are some of the most excitable people on Earth. They lose their minds when a fire occurs.

When I was in patrol we got dispatched to a house fire one night. The house wasn't occupied but was on fire. I am in a police car, lights and siren on, responding at what I felt was a fast but SAFE speed. You can't do 120mph in a residential area on a street with hills and curves and with side streets every 100 yards. After all, nothing can be done until the fire truck gets there with the hoses and axes and all that other shit. I got passed by a volunteer fireman responding in his pick-up truck with no siren and more lights than the standard hazard lights and a red bulb light mounted on the dash. Are you kidding me?? What the hell is he going to do when he gets there? Watch the house burn until the fire truck gets there?

I have never seen anyone so eager and so fired up to squirt water. They fight over the right to hold the hose. And when it's all over, it's not over. 50 of them will stand around for nearly an hour talking about the fire. What are they talking about? Shut the hell up and move all your cars so we can get down the road.

The other day we decided to burn some leaves at the softball fields. The fields sit about 300 yards off the road and if you pass the entrance to the fields, another 30 short yards down the road is the volunteer fire department. We pondered whether or not the county was under a burn ban and decided that it had rained, there were plenty of us there to handle a little ole' fire and proudly set a pile of leaves afire. Besides, there are only two houses within eye-shot of us.

Oops, didn't know that one of the houses was the residence of the local volunteer fire department's chief or captain or something. He had to be important to the department because he had the keys to the big truck. Turns out we were under a burn ban. He didn't walk over and tell us to put it out, he drove. Nope, not his car or truck... the fire truck. With the LIGHTS and SIREN GOING!! This guy was so excited you would've thought a hospital was on fire. I couldn't believe it. I asked him if the emergency equipment was necessary and he was so out of his mind he couldn't even talk.

Much to his dismay the pump on the truck wouldn't work so he called for back-up. By the time assistance arrived the pile of leaves had burned away and was barely smoking. They fixed the pump and, of course, sprayed the ashes with water.

Indian benefits

Unfortunately, this won't come off nearly as funny as it actually was, but I missed a day so I am going to try to double up and be a little entertaining.

First, if you are going to exploit a friend's heritage, race, disability, whatever... you have to know without a doubt that he/she will find it funny and not be offended.

I have a VERY LARGE and very good friend that claims to have a Native American (Cherokee Indian) heritage. I probably have more Martian in me than he has Indian, but whatever, he has a card and I don't so we usually joke about it. He even jokes about. He says he is from the Slap-A-Ho-Tribe.

Whatever, we decided to call him up this morning. We ask first what tribe is from. Cherokee. We then ask which casinos they run, because we felt like gambling and wanted a discounted room rate. Mohegan Sun? Which one? He laughed uncontrollably. I then asked if he had a line on some discounted or tax-free cigarettes and if he could get Marlboro by the pack or carton. More hysterical laughs all the way around. When he threatened me, I pushed back. Told him that if he pushed me I would contact the Chief and tell that his real middle name is Tyrone (a sure dismissal). A partner of mine did a war cry in the background and asked him not to scalp him.

Please make note, I am in no way knocking American Indians, or any other race and will not. The point is that we all have history that can be funny, or at least made fun of. And if you can't find humor in yourself, what you do every day, what you say, who you are, whatever your heritage is... shame on you. Oh, I also have no idea who owns or manages the Mohegan Sun, but I saw the hotel hosted a pool tournament on ESPN, and it just came to mind. Looks like a very nice facility, check it out if given the opportunity.

Cat for sale, house included

I am not terribly stupid, just slow to respond to the obvious. This is about Tuke (again). I left the window, and Tuke's access to the house, open again. I am on the phone, having a work-related conversation when I hear something at the kitchen window. "That's very peculiar", I thought, as I am up and Tuke knows it and he didn't knock on the door, cause I would've heard it. So I turn to see Tuke entering the house, through his cat door (or cat window) with a live bird in his mouth.

Now, I would like to say that the bird escaped but there was no struggle, Tuke didn't lose a battle with the bird, Tuke just let him go. Let Him Go!! For no reason other than to keep me from taking the bird and releasing him again in the wild. So... the chase is on. Tuke and I chased this damn bird for 10 minutes before it was snared and taken outside, only to be subjected by Tuke again. Hey, natural elimination of the weakest? Who am I to interfere, really? That is what a cat does.

So, after way too many obvious clues (good cop aint I?) I closed the window. Just in the knick of time. I arrive home from work to find a dead bird on the front porch. You know damn good and well that he went straight to the window to bring it inside to play and found the door closed. Ha, Ha... Gotcha! No more birds, rats, moles, mice, or anything else alive and loose in the house. Hang on, Tuke is knocking.

Ok, so he is now banned from bringing live prey into the house to chase around and ruin carpeting. So this cat, who is dependent on me for food and shelter, loving and playing is going to now punish me. See, he usually comes to bed well after I am asleep and normally keeps himself on the other half of the King-Sized bed that I am sleeping on.

Not since the window-closing incident. Now, whenever he decides to come to bed, in the middle of the night, while I am sound asleep, he jumps into the bed on my side, head high, and lands right on the side of my face and head. That, in and of itself is hard to deal with but there is more. He purrs, or hums, or gives a warning maybe, that he is coming. He jumps and releases a very lound HHHRRRRRRR on his way to my head.

So now imagine being dead asleep and the sound of a squadron of Blackhawk helicopters is descending on your roof and BAM! Tuke lands on your head. It is very disturbing and probably going to lead to a heart attack. So I hope the house sells quickly, otherwise I may put him on e-bay.

Dress code strictly unenforced

So I am at my daughter's basketball game tonight (they went undefeated in District play by the way, very proud) and in walks a lady. A mom or cheerleader coach I guess, not terribly attractive in the face but pretty fit for her age. She adorned some shortie shorts and a tight fitting tee. Very appropriate, I thought, show your body off if it's worth looking at.

Behind her, another lady. She wore some low rise, tight fitting jeans and also a tight fitting tee. Now, unlike the first, she had no damn business wearing anything tight fitting. She has to field-dress at over 250lbs. She needs to donate her organs to medical research and her meat to a starving family in Africa, they could eat well for months.

Why do some people wear clothing that makes them look as bad as they actually look or worse? If your body resembles the Michelin Man, put on some baggy ass clothes. Have you ever considered the dangers involved with being obese and wearing tight clothing? What if there's an emergency and you have to run to get away from something? You're either going to start a fire between your thighs or faint from lack of blood flow. Bad situation either way.

And the guys. Look, if you're not a body-builder, on stage and during a competition, or an Olympic swimmer, you should never wear Speedo's in public. Really, you are scaring the children.. go cover that shit up. Why? Why would a guy do that? The only logical opinion is that the guy is hung like John Holmes and he wants all the guys, yes the guys, to know he is the dominate male in the group. After all, no self-respecting woman wants nor can handle a foot-long. If I were hung like Smarty Jones I would break it out at every Stag Party just to swing it around like a lasso at a rodeo. But never, never, ever, ever, put on a Speedo cock cast and display it in public.

Time for Dad

Ok, I got on mom, now it's dad's turn. I will talk about the siblings later (probably on Dr. Phil or Springer, either would apply). My parents divorced 12 or 13 years ago. I always knew they would, it was just a matter of when. And when it went down it was very dramatic and apparently mom got a VERY good lawyer and dad got raped liked bisexual in prison.

Anyway, after things settled down and it was final my dad turned into the epitome of a "National Player". He would call to tell me how much ass he was getting. I got sick! I had to stop him. I don't want to hear about my dad, of all people, getting younger ass than I was (and I was only 21 at the time!) A few years later he came to visit and had to cut the visit short. See, he was going on to Mississippi (I think) to see some woman he had been talking to, then to Panama to see a woman he had been talking to, and then back to Tucson to be with the woman he was entertaining there. He was on a mission. Decide which to be with, develop some loyalty, lay down the pen so to say.

Months later we found out he remarried. Yeah, found out. My dad got married and no one knew at the time. The woman from Tucson won the competition I guess. Nice lady, met and liked her. But things didn't work out and they divorced. They stayed very close, even lived together from time to time. But you know, you can't hold down a player. That's not his game.

In very short order he found someone new to be with. So , naturally he calls out of nowhere and says he won't be home for Thanksgiving. No biggie to me, we weren't eating there or going to see him anyway. So it aroused my suspicious brain and I asked the obvious question, "Where are going". His response floored me. Germany. The woman he met on the internet lives in Germany.

Ok, internet dating or meeting is somewhat disturbing to me. More so, dad is now an International Pimp. Going global with his shit. But damn... Germany? How many woman live in Tucson, or Arizona, or hell the U.S.? Germany? Anyway, they are married now and seem very happy together. I am very happy for them and I hope it stays that way. If he keeps traveling all over the World to hook up I won't get much inheritance.

By the way, my dad will whip your dad's ass!!

Parents, look at your kids

You know, I am sick of going to houses or just seeing kids in stores and around town that you know without a doubt just by looking at them that they are sorry as hell. If you think you can't profile a kid by looking at him someone needs to slap sense into your dumb ass. My parents included. When I was 13 years old I had hair half way down my back, me ear pierced, listened to heavy metal and looked the part. I was barking at the moon, shouting at the devil, smoking, drinking, and doing everything I wasn't supposed to be doing. Every bad habit and bad choice I made was a reflection of what I wanted people to think of me.

And sometimes you can tell how sorry a kid is by looking at the parent. Take a hood rat for example. Living in the projects or other government housing, getting food stamps, unemployment, WIC, MedicAid, and doesn't cost them a dime. In fact, the more kids they have, the more money we pay them!! Don't give that woman more money and free cheese, give that bitch a hysterectomy. Damn kids running around in nothing but a diaper all day long with no supervision in the highest crime rate area in town. What do you think those kids are going to be when they grow up? Thugs. They're going to sell dope, join a gang, steal and rob and be judged by how big the wheels on their car is and how many people they done busted a cap at.

Then there's trailer trash. This woman didn't get pregnant by design. She got drunk one night. In the back of a truck during a barn party or some shit. Their kids are the ones terrorizing the countryside. Shotting guns at age 10, capturing every critter in the woods just to abuse it, and fascinated with fire. These are the kids that grow up to be arsonist, racists, rapists, and domestic batterers.

But you can omit social class and simply look at the kid. If your kid leaves the house with thier face painted to look like egg shell and everything else is painted black... your kid looks like a freak of nature and you should be concerned. If your kid leaves the house and you can see 90% of their underwear because they have the gangster sag happening, first tell them to pull their damn pants up and let them know that no one wants to see that shit, and then go search their bedroom for weed. If your daughter goes to school looking like a street-walker at age 14, she is probably very popular with the boys and it isn't hard to figure out why.

For sale, rent or trade

If you read the profile you know I run a Drug Task Force. It takes a special type of personality to do this type of work and historically, we love to tease and pull pranks on one another. No one is immune to it (myself included) and I want to write about a couple of classic pranks we pulled on Chad.

Quick background on Chad... we went through the academy together many years ago and now he works for me, pretty much everyone loves him and he gets along with pretty much everyone. He is perfect to prank because you know exactly where his heart is and he takes it so well. We have pulled some pretty foul gags that cost him a lot, including trust, but check these out (even Chad loved them).

Back when the Federal Government funded the War on Drugs we had it made. Everything was paid for, all operating expenses including leased vehicles and telecommunications for all the Agents. Well, the priority to have a War on Drugs has been abandoned over the past few years to rebuild shit we intentionally blew up in Iraq (go figure). So our funding has been cut drastically the past two years.

Local agencies became burdened to supply cell phones, provide an undercover vehicle and pay for gas. Chad was used to a new phone, a gas card that was accepted anywhere in the State and a newer model vehicle. That all changed and the big thing was the lack of a phone and the car. They gave him a Chevy Lumina (called the N0-room-ina by Chad) that was retired from the Police Dept. years ago and every thug in town knew it, plus no phone.

The car had no air conditioning, hail damage that resembled a golf ball, and a history in town that meant he could not work out of it affectively. H ewas mad and complained constantly. Plus no phone, couldn't call or get ahold of him.

He leaves town to instruct a class one day and left his No-room-ina backed in the carport at the house (which is on a major road in town). We headed straight for some shoe polish. On the front glass "For Sale, or will trade for Cell Phone", on the back glass, "Hail damage, no air, leave number on car, no cell phone available". We actually wrote all over the car. A Lt. and 2 Sgt.'s from the Dept. that provided the vehicle drove by that day and actually thought he was trying sell a Police car. A month later, I send him out of town for a week of training. New idea... put his house up for rent while he is out of town! We recruited help, had a "For Rent" sign purchased and a "HUD Accepted" sign stolen to be placed in the yard. This house would probably rent for $600-800 and we listed it for $200 and put his cell phone number on the sign.

He called Wednesday wanting to know why every crackhead in town was calling, wanting to rent his house. I denied any knowledge. He said that his dad had been by the house and took the sign out of the yard. He also said that he had received over 100 calls, even calls from Memphis (over 2 yours away) from people wanting to rent this nice house for only $200 a month of government money.

His phone rang all week long, couldn't hardly get on the phone without someone trying to rent the house he was living in. We laugh about it now and Chad... I love you man. I would love to apologize for the long list of shit we have all pulled on you, but I can't. And I know you have a return of favor planned but I am ready and holding the best for last if you dare. Well, I do apologize for that time we led you to believe I shot someone and you called everyone in the State to help to get to us, but everything else was pretty damn funny.

Bless her heart

This is about my mom, and it may be wrong to bust on your own mother on the internet where anyone in the world can read it... but I have to.

Growing up my mom never said "no" to me, believed everything I told her, and never really disciplined me for anything (except that one time in the car when I sassed her one too many times and she back-handed me in the mouth). She is probably the most naive, most trusting and most dependent person on Earth. My mom could have caught me killing someone red-handed and all I would have had to say was "I didn't do it" and she would have accepted that and went on to make dinner, fold clothes and clean house.

We moved around a lot and mom would always take the first job that was offered to her and had such loyalty to it that she would not, and will not never ever quit. She drives a school bus, has for years. You could offer her a million-dollar-a-year job to breathe all day and she would cry because someone talked her out of driving the bus. And since I have moved away I have learned that she cares for herself and what she sees every day. Everything and everyone else is an after-thought (way after the fact)

My parents divorced shortly after I married. I now have two wonderful daughters and still live far away from her. I have a brother who is married and has kids, a sister that is a starving artist and another that has a kid. They all live close to mom. Mom does whatever she can to help, babysit, makes all the birthday celebrations, Christmas, etc. My daughters don't even get a birthday card.

We pull up at the house today and there is a package from mom to the kids. Wrapped presents? No. A box of random clothes, for the girls with the price tags attached. I laughed as the girls sorted through the clothes rto find something that fit AND could be worn in public.

Bless her heart... if you have eggnog around, prepare a toast. Mom has sent presents.