A Natural State Of Mind

I'm taking over

2009-01-25T17:44:00.002-06:00

Since he hasn't posted since October of 2007, I'm taking over his blog. He just didn't have the time I suppose. I'm going to try and make the time.

Here we go again

2007-10-30T20:52:00.000-05:00

First point... it is incredibly ironic that the first two blogs I have in my mind right now relate exactly to the last two blogs that I posted like 2 years ago. Local politics related to the last blog and directly affects what I would really like to talk about right now. But, having been advised by council and the wife, I will refrain.
The second to last blog was about "tittie" bars. Hilarious. The only real fun I have had and the only laughs I have had in the past three months was recently at a "premiere" night club.
To call this place a tittie bar is probably illegal as only half the girls in there actually had tits and that other half had tits and belly rolls, and/or hair lips, and/or crossed eyes, and/or a set of testies.
Nevertheless, a true friend was getting married, begged me to go and I caved in the face of pressure. Truth be known, I needed to get out with the guys for a night. So off we went; to dinner, to the bank (for 1's), to the beer store (for beer, duh) and to the club. 15 or so guys set out with the intent to drink and tip all night long and ride home with a very irritated designated driver.
Before we ever arrived at the club 3 bailed. The wives knew what was going on and those guys had a choice...go and sleep at deer camp for a month or opt out and wake up to the misses making breakfast. Sissy boys!! Another 4 made it to the club, evaded the sweet perfumes and glittery powders of the dancers and quietly left before anyone knew they were gone.
As for the troopers... we ran out of bills around 2:30a.m., stopped in at the IHOP, filled up on omelets and toast only to fall asleep on the way home.
In retrospect, we had a blast. It was all about us, not trying to hook up with some cutie at the bar, or fighting with some rambunctious drunk... it was just fun 100% of the time. We cut up, made fun of each other, teased the strippers (whether it was right or wrong) and had a blast.
Ladies, let your man go and if he showers when he gets home, he is only trying to get the perfume and glitter off to sleep.

Political unrest

2006-04-20T08:18:00.000-05:00

Sorry guys but I have to get up on my soapbox today and vent for a minute.

I have known and continue to learn that local politics are biased, hypocritical and have no true bearing on reality. Unfortunately, it affects us all and there isn't much that we can do about.

Cases in point;
Look at several local sheriff races and/or prosecutor races for next month's elections. In Clark County we have races in both. The encumbant prosecutor has a well-known reputation for being hard on convicts. Don't blame him though, the juries have been much harsher. It is an ideal situation for police officers, well... those of us with a lick of sense. There are officers that are voting for his opponent because the current prosecutor, "doesn't do anything" to convicts. His opponent is running on the platform that he is too hard on people. Is that not stupid?
The shriff's race is equally easy to pick. The current Chief Deputy who has about a billion training hours, has ultimately run the office for years, is an expert witness in virtually every field, trains not only police but forensics analysts and, by far, is the most qualified person on the Planet to be sheriff. His opponent has been in and out of law enforcement and, although he is a nice guy, has no experience in management, little training and qualifies less than I do to be sheriff. But he has a strong family name and numerous people in the community are going to vote for him simply because they know his family. That is absolutely insane, it's an election for the premier law enforcement officer for the county, not the high school popularity contest.

State politics have been just as frustrating for me. My job and the livelihood of the DTF are dependent on Federal and State grant monies and there is a group of people in Little Rock that have the sole authority to award or deny our funding. These freaking idiots are challenged every year with deciding who gets what amount of money and for what reasons. Worse yet, they lie about funding every time you talk to them about it. They have no idea what they are doing. They told us last year that the more active units would get more funding, lie. They said we would get the same amount of State funding regardless of Federal cuts, lie. They said units that were not productive would get cut totally, lie. They said the application process would be competative and the information in the application would be considered, lie. They funded pretty much everyone that asked for money and cut everyone a uniform amount, which damn near shut me down. This year? Well, so far they said that larger cities (who can afford to operate without additional funding) woudl get cut, lie. They said rural areas, such as ours, would get at least the same amount as last year, lie. They have three proposed funding equations, each of which cut us another 20, 38 or 44%.

I would just assume be kicked in the nuts than be lied to. Especially about this, the lives of six officers and their families ride on this decision. Moreso, without a DTF in this area, there will not be effective enforcement, which means the drug problem gets worse, not better. They meet today at State Police Headquarters to discuss the proposed cuts and funding. I expect around 3:30 today I will know the unfortunate fate of the DTF and will likely show my ass (again) to the State Drug Director.

I don't know what it costs to bond out of jail on a disordely conduct charge, but I think it would be money well spent. Be careful who you vote for, Huckabe is solely responsible for my changing of political parties. And he is entertaining a run for the presidency? Get the hell out of here!! He has pardoned more people out of prison than all of the governors of all of the surrounding States combined, and does so without explanation. He has appointed people to serve on boards and committees to manage millions of dollars and they don't know what they are doing. Yeah, he lost a lot of weight, he ran a marathon, so what? Sign an endorcement deal with Subway or Weight Watchers, but get the hell out of office. It's our fault, you know, for voting him into office in the first place.

Strip clubs

2006-04-17T22:38:00.000-05:00

Whoever came up with the concept of titty bars tapped into the most fundamental of Freudian philosophies. Except Freud would probably have you looking at your mom naked...oohh, just made myself sick!!

Back to the point. Think about it for a second... what do guys want? To look at gorgeous women, naked, fantasizing about being picked out of a crowd of other guys by the aforementioned naked chick, to have an all-nighter with her and few of her equally hot and equally naked fiends. As if that would ever happen. At least they're naked and dancing.

Guys actually lie to their spouces about where they are going and/or where they have been. Why??? Because she will get mad? That's even more profound. Why in the world would she get mad? Ladies, let me state the obvious. He will go out with the guys, throw dollar bills at naked chicks and come home horny (cause' he aint gettin' laid). Well, not unless he pays for it on the way home.

You can't get mad at him for wanting to look at naked women. If so, don't let him watch porn, look at Playboy or undress your sister with his eyes at the next family reunion. Ok, if he looks at your sister that way slap the piss out of him. But titty bars are no threat. He is more likely to pick up a one-night stand at the library.

I have only been to a few and have had a blast each time. Take all your friends, especially the quiet ones, kick back and watch. It is hillarious to watch grown men lose their minds over some tits in their face. And ladies, given the opportunity, go with them. I have never seen a woman in a titty bar that didn't also enjoy it.

The bottom line is that guys should not lie to the gals about where they are going or where they have been. The glitter, sweet perfume and soft powder is too hard to explain otherwise. In fact, it screams, "I just had sex with a stranger", when all you have to do is tell the truth and the explaination would be self-evident. Ladies, let them go if they want to, it is the safest bar in town and I promise if they say they are going to the titty bar, that's exactly where they'll be.

Man seeking woman

2006-04-16T16:10:00.000-05:00

I was thinking how wierd it is that a lot of the guys I know are not with women that match them to a tee. Yeah, opposites attract (or so they say) but you have to have something in common. So I thought I would do personal ads, as I see it, for some of the guys. For the few of you that know these guys, it will be pretty damn funny. At least I think so.

Start with TJ
Man seeking white woman (or Asian boy). MUST look good in a Confederate Flag shirt or bandana, be able to can and pickle food and listen to Country music older than dirt. Memberships to the Pabst Blue Ribbon club and Fainting Goat Assn a plus. I also like to shoot endangered species with a shot gun from mom's hot tub while drunk and protecting my heard of $3 Ginnies (sp?).

Erik
Man seeking dark complected woman with brown eyes and long, straight, brown hair like Pocahontas. MUST be able to tolerate a house full of feathers and antlers, live up to the Cherokee tradition and be able to re-fill an ice tray. I also like my women in leather or naked or a combination thereof. Wait till you see me tin shower, you'll be mad. I am a card-carrying Indian (until someone busts me out) so I get discounts at Mohegan Sun Casino and don't have to pay tax on tobacco. Send me a smoke signal if interested.

Richard
Man seeking a woman that looks like a man or another man that is very discreet. I am the boss and will make you love being my underling. I have been known to have an "accident" or two, so if I shit myself you can not scream "Sufferin Suckotash". Otherwise; I like short walks, watching my buddies get some and sucking toes. Call me, xoxoxoxo.

Sam
I was in Iraq for 18 months and really don't give a shit. Somebody wanna give me some? ALL applications are accepted, no matter how big or crazy you might be!!!

And lastly...The Minute Man (although a minute may be way too much credit)
Man seeking another trio of young, hot, college athletes for a 4-some, 3-some, 2-some...whatever. I passed on my opportunity for the historical quad, couldn't bring myself to engage in the 3-some... but I am ready now. Just get naked again and see. It will be the fastest, no I didn't mean fastest, the best 30 seconds of your life!!

(I am on Tasha's puter and it won't let me spell check so sorry if I am a dumbass)

The move is done (well almost) and what a change

2006-04-14T20:28:00.000-05:00

I am back with the wife and kids and what a change it has been for all of us. Tasha, for example, has forfeited half of her small bed and half of all of her closet space, a single drawer in the bathroom and now has to deal with me on a daily basis.

The girls begged for me to move in and now I have. Bless their hearts. There isn't much argument or debate when I am here, not to say that Tasha doesn't handle her own, there just isn't much room for debate team training when I am here. Now, they make a good stand, but we are the law. Now, don't get me wrong... when they are told to do something I don't expect them to get into a three-point stance and run for the gold like Carl Lewis, but they are expected to do what they are told before the big hand on the clock moves more than twice.

And we can't forget Tuke. He has taken it like a champ, so far, but he hates being inside. He does try to dismantle the house every time we leave, and we will let him out eventually, but we don't want him to get excited and run into a very busy street and end up buzzard food.

Then there's me... I have to say that I am very happy here, very different, but very happy. No more drinking every day, no more total peace and quiet, no more lounging naked in the mornings watching ESPN, no more ... well, a lot of things. But all that is besides the point. The point is that I am here... right here... every day, with my wife, with my girls, doing what I should be doing and I am sorry for not being on-line, but I am busy doing the right thing, something that I will do with Tasha for the rest of my life.

Heard you missed me.... I'm Back !!!

2006-04-14T20:15:00.000-05:00

Ok, I am back but tonight I am going to relinquish the keyboard to my oldest to tell a story. I apologize for the delay, I have been busy moving back in with Tasha and the girls, so enjoy this.

Ok, never did this before but always wanted to. I have to tell about getting in dad's work truck the other day and he picked up his other cell phone. Dad has two cell phones, a work phone and a CAST phone. CAST is a business I guess but that phone never rings. So dad picked up the CAST phone and said that he wished it would ring. I asked why and he said that if the phone rang he made money. I told him I would call the phone, make some money.

Dad laughed and I don't know why. After all, if all I have to do is call the phone we have a lot of phones to call from. It never rings anyway, we might as well call it and make some money. I don't know the number but if anyone knows CAST please call...

Blogs of old updated

2006-04-05T19:54:00.000-05:00

Just a quick update on some old stuff. First is business related, the house is still for sale and have had virtually no bites so I am considering a rental agreement. The boat is still for sale. Getting hot outside, water sports are about to get hot, got a SeeDoo Challenger for sale for $2, 700.

Ok, now to the good stuff. Remember Tasha's neighbors? Dirty yard, loud music, possibly selling dope? I sent the boys over to pay a visit. Dude has been nicknamed yuck-mouth... cause he don't brush (and obviously doesn't have a dental plan). He had a little sack on him, some pipes and shit, not a big deal really. Yuck-mouth agreed to do some work for us to "clean up the community". That's funny. He was told he could start by cleaning up his yard. Can't believe he never called back.

Keeping with the neighbors, they have yet a new set of dogs. Can you skin and cook a dog on the stove? I have never noticed a grill or fire pit so if they are eating the dogs it would have to be inside the house. Dog chili? Mutt soup? How does one learn how to cook dog? Maybe they have an underground dog recycling station, just trade used dogs to friends or something. Actually, I think I am right from the first blog about the dogs. They just get pissed off and leave and a new pack of roaming mutts moves in for a while.

Of course, we come back to Tuke. At this point I can't get rid of him, hell I wouldn't have anything to blog about. But check this out. I am laying on the couch checking out Howie and Deal or no Deal. Tuke climbed up on the window sill to smell the pollen and have the breeze in his face and then he decided to lay down. So he walks a circle or two on my chest and decides to lay down. He doesn't lay down like you might expect a cat to lay down. He lays down on his back with his ass and nuts an inch from my chin. It was like he paid me $20 for a blow job and was waiting for me handle business.

Besides that we have scheduled a double-header softball tourny with new opponents. New opponents is good, playing softball may not be the best of ideas. Another good cause, another day of exercise and probably another day of embarrassment. Gluttons for punishment I guess. At least the cat won't have his package in my face during the game.

Tuke surprises me again

2006-04-03T23:59:00.000-05:00

I got released from court today and planned to wet a line for a little while. I pulled up to the house, jumped out of the truck, ran inside to grab and few things and planned on running back into town to pick up a glove for my daughter before heading to the lake.

And I did. I got back in the truck and was heading back into town, about a mile down the road, listening to the radio, watching the road, thinking about what I needed to do, when all of a sudden Tuke jumps from the back seat onto my arm on the center console.

He scared the shit out of me. Hard to imagine, but when you are in a vehicle and supposed to be alone, you don't expect anything to jump out of the back seat and onto your arm. But he did and we managed not to wreck and then he assumed the personality of a dog.

He stood in my lap, placed his paws on top of the door panel near the window and held his head near the open window like a lap dog. I let him do it, not too often you see that. Then a semi drove by jake-braking, which scared the shit out of Tuke and nearly cost me a testicle. So I got the glove and took Tuke back home. At least I know he is good to travel, just not in my lap.

Got spanked?

2006-04-03T23:37:00.000-05:00

Have you ever entered a sporting event so confident that you dusted the trophy shelf for the upcoming addition, only to get your ass whipped like Rodney King? Happened to me, just the other day. And oh what a miserable feeling it is.

Some of you may recall me talking about having the rare opportunity to actually play softball, despite being at a ball field more often than not to cheer and watch. We had our game, a benefit game to raise money, and boy did we feel good coming into that day. Then we all showed up.

The other team's coach Sam (a.k.a. The Lieing Ass Coach) said the only way we lose is if we get lost going to the field. They showed up with three players not on the roster. Guess what? They all played in college or semi-pro. Ok, they have a strong team.

Problemo numero dos... we have two players that signed up to play, acted as though they had some experience (but couldn't make a single practice do to work schedules) and, wouldn't you know it... didn't have a glove or a bat, couldn't catch or hit and one couldn't even thrown from home to the pitcher.

To make matters worse everyone else forgot how to catch, our "big bats" didn't show up and our only highlight was being allowed to leave before anyone noticed that we were missing. I have found satisfaction in knowing that it was a benefit game, not the World Series, and I almost tied the home-run derby. Otherwise it sucked.

I think I should live my softball life vicariously through my daughters. That or learn to accept defeat more graciously.

Quit resisting!!

2006-03-31T09:23:00.000-06:00

I was at a local high school with a K-9 unit yesterday and was reminded of all the less-than-lethal options we have as police officers these days. Many years ago if an officer encountered a violent suspect there were two options, shoot them or beat them half to death with a baton.

Nobody wants to fight with a suspect but we now have tools to end the fight quickly and it usually prompts a big smile for the officer. Dogs for example, are great for running down suspects and taking them to the ground. And it is really cool to watch. I don't care how fast or strong you are, a 75 pound German Sheppard with the intent to eat your ass out like a lioness on a wildebeest is going to win that encounter.

Then came O.C. or pepper spray. O.C. isn't that much fun during the fight because it often cross-contaminates the officers. The fun part is after the fight and on the way to the jail or hospital. See ten minutes prior to the transport the guy in the back seat fancied himself as a bad ass and threatened to beat down every cop in the area. Now he can't open his eyes, he is having trouble breathing, he has his head stuck as far out the window as he can reach (kinda like a Labrador on a Sunday drive), he is begging for the officer to hurry up and there is a stream of tears and snot streaming from his face like the tail of a kite.

Then we got tasers. Oh shit, you do not want to be lit up with a taser. But it is fun to be the one pulling the trigger. Imagine a dude 6'5", strong as an ox, high as hell and wanting to fight. All we have to do is keep about 10 feet away and decide where exactly we want to shoot him up with electricity. Then let 'em have it. BBBZZZZZZ and he's down, laying in the fetal position, shaking, trying to uncurl his toes while wondering what the hell just happened. One thing is certain, he isn't interested in fighting any more.

Lastly, we got less-lethal rounds that we actually shoot out of a shotgun. Bean bags, rubber and plastic balls, they even make grenades that can be deployed in rooms or rowdy crowds. One of the funniest pursuits I have ever seen was recorded in L.A. Patrol is chasing this guy and he is constantly cussing at them and flipping them off when all of a sudden he stops, jumps out of the car, moons the patrol officers, flips them off and he hauls ass in the car again. This went on for a while and dude stops again. This time he jumps onto the top of the car and is screaming while flipping everyone off again. A Sgt. comes into the picture, jacks a shotgun round into the barrel and points it at the suspect. The suspect is not phased, after all, he had not done anything to warrant deadly force. Oh how unlucky for him. Sgt. blasted this guy in the gut with a bean bag. Needless to say the chase was over and the officers that were infuriated had to be giggling inside when they saw him take the blow to the gut and fall off the car.

Unfortunately for us, we usually one get to use these options once on a suspect. They tend to leave a lasting impression and if a suspect decides a week, month or year later that he wants to show his ass, all we have to do is show up with the same amount of force used on him previously. He got sprayed last time? Ok, just pull out the O.C. can and watch his attitude change.

The Ultimate Bitch

2006-03-29T21:56:00.000-06:00

Beware men, there are thieves among us!!

This story is true and I have seen the unfortunate consequences and I still have a hard time believing it. But here it is...

Sam started working for me a couple of months ago after coming home from an 18 month tour in Iraq with the National Guard. I knew Sam before he left, he was a deputy for the sheriff's office. He had a wife, kids, lived next door to his best friend (who had a wife and kids) and was a good-hearted man. Then he went to war.

He ends up in Iraq getting shot at every day, killing people on a regular basis, and gets one phone call a month. He is making good money for a cop from this area, so the focus is to send home some money and make it home alive to get back with his family. He even received shrapnel injuries, got stitched up and was sent back to duty without any leave or even a cup of ice cream.

All is good though for about the first year. He is sending home money and the misses is upgrading furniture and (so he thought) starting a savings account. After about a year he hears that his "loyal" wife is banging his best friend. So he uses his one phone call that month to call and confront his best friend. No good results from that, denial is on the main menu and he is told not to call back.

So Sam does his duty, serves his Country and, after 18 months at war, comes home. He is tired, hungry, confused, (I'm sure horny) and anxious to see his wife, kids and home. He stepped off the plane with two large duffel bags of military clothing and was met by his wife. His wife, a key to a house he didn't know she bought and divorce papers. The divorce papers allowed her a shit load of child support and limited visitation with the kids, but Sam didn't read it, just signed it and prepared to refrain from killing her on the spot.

That in and of itself qualifies her as a bitch but we aren't done. She used power of attorney to qualify for his one and only lifetime, low interest VA loan to buy a house he can never afford to pay for. He gets to the house to find that there is a dirty sock and one chair and no other furniture. The bank account? In the negative, naturally. And guess where she is... his best friend. That's right, he goes to war and she goes next door. She spent every dime he made and/or took it with her, moved the kids more than two hours away to live with his former best friend (who she married only days after the divorce was final) and somehow Sam hasn't choked her to death.

She left him with a house he didn't know he had and can not afford, child support he can't afford to pay, a negative balance in the bank, no furniture, no food, no kids, and she is still trying to get more out of him. Here's the real kicker, she and her family are loaded. Yes, loaded. She doesn't know what it is to "want" something, she gets whatever she asks for.

This bitch is off the chain. She is no gold digger, she already has money. Anna Nicole Smith may be qualified as a gold digger, she was white trash that impressed a very rich and very old dude, that took care fo her for having thick lips and big tits. This bitch here deserves to be carried to the zoo and let the gorillas run a train on her... twice... because she is the biggest bitch and rapist on the planet.

Celebrity shag list

2006-03-27T19:55:00.000-06:00

I happened to be at the Country Club yesterday for a bite to eat and a beer or two and see a young couple at the bar. I know the misses and know that she is recently married and get invited to sit with them. It's all good, we have both the NCAA men's tourney on and the final round of the TPC at Sawgrass and we are talking sports.

So I am talking with the hubby and having a great time when a commercial comes on. I don't recall the commercial, but he made a comment to his wife about how good looking the actress was. At that point I was reminded of newlywed life.

I am no Dr. Phil but I know that certain things happen for certain newlyweds. Some folks have pre-nuptial agreements. Others have a celebrity shag list.

If you don't know what shag means you can move to England or get out of the trailer and rent Austin Powers. Anyway, Tasha and I had a celebrity shag list and I asked the couple at the country club if they had one and they did!! Incredible. Not that I made it up or anything, just funny.

Ok, here's the deal... you get married and you have a list of 5 celebrities each, which each of you can lay, without consequence, if the opportunity ever presents itself. Sounds good for the guys. Permission to shag 5 super hot, famous women without consequence. A guy had to have made this up. You have to name the celebs, keep to the list, and that's the deal.

After several months I got to thinking. What are the chances that I ever get to meet a person on my list, and if so, what are the chances I get laid? Nil, nada, zip, zilch, no way in hell. Even if they happen to be passing through, I save them somehow in a life or death situation, there is no way I get laid. Then I think about the wife. What are the chances that, if she lists a music star and he comes to Little Rock, and she is there, that she gets an invite backstage. And if backstage, that she gets what she wants? Pretty damn good.

We are idiots. We create a scenario that we can not possibly benefit from, we just want permission to mess around with a super model. In the meantime, we give our wives permission to bang the first celebrity that they meet. I explained this to the couple and he looked perplexed and called off all bets while she laughed and reluctantly agreed.

At one point I actually tried to alter my list to include local news people. Hey, I figure I can get an interview a few times and maybe win over some interest with a shot later on, but she stomped on it. Celebrity has to be "nationally known", not just state-wide, not Dawn Scott, not Joan Early, blah, blah... guys, abandon the shag list.

Free at last

2006-03-27T16:08:00.000-06:00

No, I didn't get parole... I moved out of my parent's house and it felt like a prison break. When I graduated high school we lived overseas. I wrongly assumed that in the upcoming months I would simply pick the college or university I wished to attend and mom and dad would send me off and catch the bills. Florida State was looking pretty good when mom and dad broke the news. They aren't paying for shit. To make matters worse, we are moving to southern California, just outside LA, where I can continue to live with them or fend for myself.

My situation was about to be much worse than I could have imagined. First, if you haven't been to LA, don't go. That part of the Country is the most crime-ridden area I have ever been exposed to and I will never go back. Secondly, I was 18 and a high school graduate that was about to be forced to share a room with my younger brother. What the hell is that all about??? So I am stuck and absolutely miserable. No friends, no money, no way to pay for school and sharing a room with my brother. That's bullshit. I even went to talk to the Air Force recruiter and considered joining until my dad blew a gasket.

So I endured that for several months, worked here and there to save money, started classes at a local community college and the next Christmas flew to College Station, Texas to visit my best friend from high school who had a scholarship to attend A&M. I immediately fell in love with the town and the school. Knowing that more than half the 50,000+ students were girls didn't hurt either. So I vowed to move there. My best friend, Wade, vowed to move out of the dorm and find an apartment off campus for us to live in.

That we did. Dad agreed to drive me and my few possessions to College Station if I saved enough money to help pay for the trip and cover deposits and stuff. I did and Wade sent a broshure from the apartment complex, a map of the city with directions to the residence and a key to the door. The broshure looked wonderful and the pictures were obviously taken immediately after original construction. Wade says our place is in the courtyard facing the pool and that he has accumulated furniture and everything.

So the following Christmas break we take off for Texas. Wade was scheduled to arrive the day after I got there and I was so excited I couldn't sit still. It was the longest trip of my life. We get to College Station and use the map to find the complex. Only, it doesn't look much like the picture on the broshure anymore. It is obviously one of the "more affordable" places in town. But what the hey, better than CA. We find the apartment, which faces the empty swimming pool and try the key to no avail. It fits, it just won't open the damn door. So I kick the door in and we walk into the worse excuse for a bachelor pad I have ever seen. Absoluetly no food but plenty of naked bitches hanging on the walls, recipes for mixed drinks and every brand of alcohol you could imagine.

The place looked ransacked. Drawers left open with clothes on the floor, lamps knocked over, cushions pulled up, it was rediculous. Dad laughed out loud and reminded me that he was leaving in the morning and asked if I wanted to go back home. But I couldn't do that.

The furniture was nasty looking and uncomfortable, the apartment was plain dirty and I knew I would spend many months eating baked beans and Ramon noodles just to survive, but go back home? Not an option. Hey, I was out of the home, free to do whatever I pleased, whenever I pleased and I wasn't going back. We learned to upgrade our furniture every year when the seniors graduated. All the underclassmen would stalk the dumpsters waiting for the seniors to clean their apartments and furniture would be rotated like US currency.

I hope my daughters aren't as anxious as I was when they move out (although it would save a ton on food). For me, it was the most exhilerating experience to be totally responsible for myself. Wade and I would sit on our ragged furniture, hungry as hell, sharing a 6 pack and just smile and toast each other saying "free at last, free at last". You would have thought we were abused or deprived children the way we acted.

World record

2006-03-23T17:18:00.000-06:00

If you don't fish, don't read this because you won't get the point. The largemouth bass is the most often fished quarry in every lake across America. The world record, which has stood for decades, is about 22 1/4 pounds. Many thought it would never be broken.

A guy fishing a small lake in San Diego County caught a fish that would have shattered the world record Monday morning. He sees the fish on a bed getting ready to spawn, pitches a jig and hooks her under the mouth near the gill plate. There are witnesses on the boat and on a nearby dock. Once the fish was landed, they go to the dock to weigh the fish.

If this fish is a new world record it is worth at least $1 million in advertising and endorsements. They see that the fish is not hooked in the mouth and assume it nullifies a legal catch. So they video the weighing of the fish on a digital scale, see that she weighs over 25 pounds and release her. Yes, release her.

Because she wasn't hooked in the mouth? Shit, I could pass a polygraph if I needed to. That's a legal catch if I hang her and the last place she is going is back in the lake, right after the Game and Fish Commission come get her, measure her, weigh her on certified scales and notify the World that I am the man.

What did I catch her on? Let you know tomorrow, right after I call the manufacturers of the clothes and shoes I was wearing at the time, the sunglasses, the sunscreen, the ball cap, the pliers I had on my side, the boat I may have been fishing out of, powered by the trolling motor and big motor on the boat, guided by the electronics, using a certain rod, reel, line, hook, weight, lure and attractant (which came out of a sturdy tackle box), and landed her in a certain brand of trusty net while smoking a brand of cigarettes and drinking a beer.

Every fisherman's quest is for the big one. A world record is epidemic and the last thing you do is just let her go on a technicality, what a dumb ass!!

Chiggers

2006-03-21T18:00:00.000-06:00

If you live in the South you know what a chigger is. When I moved to Arkansas I had no idea what a chigger was. I had heard the word "chigger" before, a card-carrying redneck friend of mine in Texas had a dog named Chigger and I thought it was a play on a racial slur. I learned different.

We move to Arkansas and I am brand new to patrol and my field training officer and I are asked to assist with an 18-wheeler that got lost and ran off a small county road just out of town. Cool, we get to leave the city, explore new frontiers and mock a dumb ass truck driver that left the highway and is stuck on a road he had no business on. Yeah, it was cool... the truck is off the road, stuck in a shallow ditch and I am taking it all in. I walked all around the truck, just looking at it, all in the ditch and in the nearby woods, just to look at it.

An hour or so later we finish up and it's back to business. No problems at that point; I get off, go home and get ready for bed. I get out of the shower and am itching my ass off!!! My legs are absolutely covered in little red dots, from the top of my boots to the bottom of my underwear line. They itched worse than anything I have ever experienced. "What the hell is that?", I ponder. I am ready to cut my legs off. Sleep is not even an option at that point, I just wonder what it is. What did I catch? And where?

The next morning I show up for work, keeping quiet about my condition, and see that my FTO is scratching like he had Lotto tickets in his pants. "What's the problem?", I asked. "Chiggers". "What are chiggers?". Everyone in the room looked at me like I was smoking crack.

Chiggers are little bitty insects, barely visible with the naked eye, and they love to bite you. I was informed about chiggers and drove straight to Wal Mart to buy every anti-chigger-itch product they had, which did little good.

I now know that chiggers are among the smallest biting insects in this part of the Country, and the most annoying. Other insect bites itch, like mosquito bites and tick bites, but there is no comparison to a chigger. Comparing a chigger bite to a mosquito bite is like comparing shampoo in your eyes to pepper spray. No comparison. Starting when the temperature reaches 75 degrees and throughout the summer and fall months I put on anti-insect spray as regular as I do deodorant.

Lawn mower man

2006-03-20T18:48:00.000-06:00

I got ribbed over this incident for months, it even made State news for a few days and I didn't think I would ever live it down.

Early in my illustrious career I got dispatched to an accident. Someone on a riding lawn mower had hit a vehicle on a residential street. What? How does that happen? I arrived and saw that a guy was actually mowing the yard when he drove straight off the curb and into the street, where he T-boned a passing car. It didn't take long for me to figure out what happened, the son of a bitch was drunk and forgot to turn or forgot to hit the brake. So he mowed over the curb and hit the only car that would have been passing by that hour. What are the chances?

Anyway, he is obviously drunk and I asked how much he had been drinking and he denies it but admits to rinsing his mouth with an alcohol-based mouth wash. His alibi was weak and when his wife arrived home she laughed and said he had been drinking all day.

I am not opposed to drinking and mowing, I do it myself almost every time I mow. I get on the mower, it's 102 with 80% humidity outside, it's a big ass yard, I want to drink a beer. I think someone with John Deere needs to get on the ball to be honest with you. If I worked there we would all have a riding mower with a built in cooler, ashtray and cup holder that would accommodate a bottle or can. I could have revolutionized the mowing industry.

Anyway, back to the story... he's drunk and a report has to be made so the victim can get his car fixed. The report specifically asks if alcohol is a factor and if so, how intoxicated was the driver. He wasn't driving a car but the report asks questions I have to be able to answer. I called the shift supervisor, explained the scenario and it was decided to take him for a breath test and if he registered high to charge him DWI. Hey, what other choice did I have?

So I end up charging a guy DWI for mowing while intoxicated. I didn't have him held in jail or post a bond or anything stupid, but it was a matter of public record that this guy hit a car while his drunk ass was trying to mow the yard. Luckily it worked out for him in court and eventually my co-workers forgot about it and left me alone.

Let the big fans blow

2006-03-19T15:59:00.000-06:00

Several summers ago I was at the lake and talking with a local Deputy at one of the larger and more popular boat ramps. Boats were steadily coming and going and it doesn't take long to figure out who knows what they are doing and who doesn't. It takes a little practice and time with a particular boat to know how to tow it, how to back it, how to launch the boat and how to load the boat.

Enter "ski daddy" and "hot mamma". A truck arrives pulling a brand new looking ski boat. Very nice, clean, powerful boat. They attempted to back that boat down the ramp and into the water for nearly 20 minutes. That was entertaining enough to keep our attention until they were out of sight, which we knew would be a while.

They finally got the boat backed in, figured out how to get into the boat once it was in the water (also entertaining) and then they were faced with starting and maneuvering the boat off the trailer. Ok, the boat is running, the trailer is parked, ski daddy pulls a groin trying to hold the boat from hitting the ramp and steps while being picked up at shore by hot mamma, and the trip was on.

The trip lasted 50 yards. They idled just past the No Wake buoys and threw the boat in neutral. Dude throws on a vest, attaches a tow rope, tosses a couple of skis off the side of the boat and in he goes. Surely not. They have obviously never been in this boat, if any boat and they plan to ski? Without even learning the boat and controls? It took him 10 more minutes to get the skis on.

Anyway, they have been at the lake for nearly an hour and are still at the ramp. He is in the lake, skis on, grasping the tow rope and talking to his wife just off the rear deck. He is about 5 feet away from the back of the boat with all the tow rope bundled up between he and the boat when his wife jumps with joy and runs to the console. What happened next was questionably the funniest and scariest thing I have ever seen.

The wife, "you ready ski daddy". The reply, "let the big fans blow hot mamma". And she did. She floors it, full throttle. About the time the boat planed out ski daddy realizes that there was 50 feet of tow rope being jerked out of the lake in front of him at an alarming rate. They should have had the rope taught before going all out. But they didn't and by the time he realized it, it was too late.

She jerked his ass out of the lake like a missile being fired from a rocket-launcher. I don't know how far he flew before crashing into the lake only to be drug for several yards before letting go, but he had no skis, could barely breathe and needed to be rescued. He suffered from at least one dislocated arm and drank quite a bit of lake. Otherwise, I guess he was ok. I don't imagine he has been called ski daddy since.

Love thy new neighbor too

2006-03-19T15:34:00.000-06:00

Tasha and the girls live in a pretty rural area and have a really nice house on a decent spread of land. Her house, the house across the street, the houses behind her and to her left are also quite nice and all have good acreage. Then there's Butch and the boys.

Butch and his sons (and usually 4 or 5 friends) live to her right. What a shit hole of a place. Imagine the ultimate Arkansas mobile home joke and that is exactly what lives next door. The house is a single-wide with some half-assed addition in the front. Trash is more predominant than grass (which never gets mowed) and there are always broke down cars and car parts scattered around the house.

The pride and joy of the whole place is a picnic table that sits under a tin-roofed, free-standing cover equipped with a burn barrel and can barrel. Oh boy, that helps the property value. During warm weather Butch wakes up, heads for the picnic table and stays there all day long drinking beer and visiting with friends. His boys seem to sleep all day, as they usually show themselves late in the afternoon and spend most of the night sitting outside or trying to work on a car.

It's an eye-sore and they are totally unproductive, but they are ignorant and tend to piss me off. First, the boys like loud music very late at night. I don't, especially when I am trying to sleep, so we have had a spat about it. At 11:00 p.m. you should not be shaking the windows in the neighbor's homes with the bass in your 88 Caprice. I took it upon myself to walk over there and inform them of that. I think they got the point.

They also have dogs. Not the same dogs, they just always seem to have a pack of dogs. It's weird... they will have 3 or 4 and after a few months, no dogs for a week or so, then a new pack of dogs. Tasha thinks they are eating them. I think the dogs can only go so long without being fed and living in those conditions and they think, "fuck it, I'm outta here". But who knows?

The dogs have a tendency to prefer Tasha's yard to shit in and her trash to eat out of. We have pelted their dogs with rocks, chased them off verbally, even shot several in the ass with a BB gun, but they don't get the message. One in particular was annoying, I caught him on the front porch with no way out except past me. I kicked that dog in the nuts so hard he ran half way down the drive on only his front feet.

Now I hear Butch is slinging weed. They don't know me or what I do for a living... yet. I plan to sick my boys on them and, if we're lucky, can lock their dumb asses up, or at least get them evicted. May the Dope God be with us.

Love thy neighbor

2006-03-16T20:42:00.000-06:00

Tasha and I have lived together (and apart) in two States and in a plethora of properties. Over the years we have been pretty fortunate with regards to neighbors. A good neighbor is a large contributing factor to determine happiness at home.

When we first married we moved into a cul-de-sac of duplexes in a suburban area of town. Pretty nice place; roomy, usually quiet, the other half of our duplex remained unoccupied, and it had a fenced back yard. Then we got new neighbors in the next duplex... college kids.

When they moved in I had a Rottweiler named Caesar. He was probably one of the largest and strongest dogs of his kind on the planet. These guys move in next door and see that our back yards are separated by a 4 foot tall chain-linked fence. I'm not sure what set them off, but these guys would constantly provoke the dog and throw shit at him. They even threw a dog over the fence to fight Caesar. That was a bad idea, Caesar nearly killed it before I figured out what was going on and called him off. These guys were major pains in the ass and ultimately made Caesar mean and very aggressive towards strangers.

It wasn't just the dog or just them. They would throw huge college parties (which I was not opposed to) but they too would mess with the dog, throw shit in the yard, be loud until ridiculous hours of the night and the only pleasure I got was catching a drunk peeing at the fence. See Caesar would attack on command. Ever see a drunk peeing at a chain-linked fence when, all of a sudden out of the darkness, a 200 pound Rott is a foot from his peepee trying to attack? That is some funny shit. I saw so many guys piss on themselves while falling backwards I couldn't even count them up.

One morning we got off work at 7am and my best friend and I decide to sit outside at the front door, drinking scotch and 7 with Michelob, and toast everyone leaving the cul-de-sac for work. Then the neighbors decide to leave for class (I guess). One decides he is going to spin out across the front yards, including my front yard, and hit the road from my driveway spinning tires. He managed to rut the hell out of my front yard and dodge a Michelob bottle I hurled at him.

They eventually got evicted and had to move out. I noticed they were trying to move, one truck-load at a time, and happened to be gone when the landlord showed up. He asked me if I had seen them and I explained that they appeared to be moving out. He changed the locks, stated that they were behind on rent and he planned to keep whatever was left in the house. I asked what he planned to do with the property and he said he would trash it, give it away, didn't care... he didn't want it, just wanted to deprive them of it. I asked about the items left outside and he said take what you want.

The landlord left and I checked out what was left on the patio in the back yard. Score!! A nice aquarium and stand with the filters and all the fixins. I called a friend that was wanting one, told him to come immediately, which he did and we loaded him up.

Later that afternoon the assholes returned to find they were locked out and the aquarium was gone. They didn't seem too upset about the furniture in the house, but pretty pissed about the aquarium missing. Ha Ha, that's what you get. Assholes.

Parenting 101

2006-03-14T19:31:00.000-06:00

Parenting is the hardest job on the planet, bar none. I would do a season harvesting crab (the deadliest job on the planet) if it would guarantee a year of easy parenting. But you can't do that, you have to suck it up and deal with the hardships and lectures, and discipline, and school, and their friends, and friends parents, and, etc. etc. But some decisions should be easy, gimmies.

Check this out. I have talked about my secretary before (and I think Mike got a relief of overtime at the house... or maybe she just isn't telling me) but she has a sister we will call Nessa. Nessa looks absolutely nothing like her sister and has a daughter that is very young and attractive and looks absolutely nothing like Nessa or her dad. I'm not trying to insinuate, well, maybe I am... but the point is that she has a daughter.

I met Nessa and her daughter when she was about 17. She was in school, doing VERY well and heart-broken over a break-up with her boyfriend. The next I heard of Nessa'a daughter, she had dropped out of high school and was dating a gang banging crack dealer. What the hell? Nessa knew it! Nessa didn't stop it, didn't intervene, maybe she knew her daughter was smarter than her and was intimidated. I don't know.

So eventually the crack dealer beat her ass, she moved back home, finished school, got a job and planned on college. I talked to this girl several times, mostly to scare her straight, but did a lot for her. And was happy that she was on the right path. Or so I thought.

A few months pass and she has a new boyfriend. Her new choice of man sells marijuana, methamphetamine and carries weapons everywhere he goes. That's a good choice! Moving on up in the dope world. Nessa knows it and didn't do shit to deter or stop it. In fact, let her move in with him and his mom. His mom is even worse! She cooks and sells dope herself, is on parole and has charges pending.

I am baffled. How does a parent, who is supposed to be doing the right thing, allow a daughter to do this without being held hostage in a house for as long as it takes to make her get the concept of living right? I learned that is a stupid question. And should have seen it coming, being a seasoned officer and all.

Quote Chris Rock..."mama's fucking fault!" Nessa smoked weed with her daughter for her 16th birthday. Parenting 101... you DO NOT smoke weed with your juvenile child. You don't drink with your juvenile child, you DO NOT endorse anything illegal or addictive with your child. I don't care what your thoughts are about weed, you should not, ever, ever, condone your child using drugs, any drugs.

So I have washed my hands of Nessa and her daughter. I will be nice, I will say hello and hug if I have to, and I will prosecute both of them if given the opportunity.

The worst beating I ever took

2006-03-13T21:38:00.000-06:00

It wasn't from mom or dad, it was from a gigantic kid in junior high school. For some reason I fought a lot in junior high and middle school. I'm not sure why, I wasn't a big kid at all or much of a bully or anything, just fought a lot.

My primary target was a kid in my class named Silver. He always picked the fight and I always beat the piss out of him. I can't figure out why he kept coming back for more, but he did for years and in the 8th grade he quit and we left each other alone.

Sean was a friend of Silver's and I didn't really like him either, but I never beat him up (well once, we'll get to that in a minute). So Sean started dating a girl friend of mine and I wrote her a letter during class one day (naturally) to tell her I didn't like Sean and she needed to break up with him. Sean got mad and he and Silver wanted to beat me up, but couldn't, so they devised a plan.

They took the letter, erased three or so sentences from the middle of it and re-wrote it. They wrote that I wasn't afraid of John Paul, called him a creative list of racial slurs and finally said that I wanted to kick John Paul's ass.

John Paul was about 4 years older than all the rest of us in 8th grade. He had been expelled 4 years in a row for fighting. He loved to fight, and rightfully so... he was freaking huge!! A gigantic, muscled up black dude that couldn't read or write.

Since he couldn't read or write he didn't notice that the original sentences had been erased, the handwriting was totally different and the text had nothing to do with what was been said before and after Sean and Silver's alterations. So John Paul is pissed and his mission is to beat me to a pulp before the end of the day.

Word spreads fast in 8th grade and I knew of the pending beating. So I slip out of library 5 minutes early to make a run for it. My goal is to get off campus and to a friend's house nearby. Didn't work, got caught by a teacher, had to wait for the final bell and the race was on. Not only was he much stronger but also faster. He caught me just off campus.

I tried to explain that I had not written the things he was read but he wasn't interested in talking. He hit me so fast and so hard it knocked me down. It didn't stop with one punch, hell it didn't stop with twenty punches. I managed to block a few kicks and keep him from hitting me in the face, but I never got off a punch and spent most of the "fight" picking myself off the ground. He kicked my ass. Finally, my Japanese buddy got home and summoned his older brother. John Paul and the hundred or so watching the tragic event thought he was Bruce Lee and ran off.

I got in trouble for getting home later after school. That's just wrong. I told my mom I was busy getting my ass kicked and she didn't care, she was just mad I was late. I would have loved to have been home on time but I don't think telling John Paul that I "didn't have time for his silliness because I would be late and mom would be mad", would have changed anything.

Three days later we are all back in school, the swelling about my head had gone down some and somebody tells John Paul that I had not written what he was told. Silver was the culprit. Oh, sweet justice, now John Paul has a new mission... beat Silver to a pulp by the end of the day. I watched the entire event unfold before my eyes.

School is about to end and every student in 8th grade is anxious to watch Mini Mike Tyson hammer on Silver. Silver is in the gym on the opposite side of campus. I suppose he got released from class just before the final bell to go to the office and seek refuge. He is dashing at full speed when, all of a sudden, here comes John Paul out an open window in a classroom. I couldn't believe it. He saw his pray attempting to escape and jumped out a window to pursue him. It was great! I joined the chase, not to catch anyone, just to have front row seats. John Paul caught him just inside the office doors. John Paul hit him more times in ten seconds than he hit me throughout our incident, which felt like it lasted ten minutes. He also hit the assistant principle and got expelled again. But Silver was bloody, crying like a two-year-old and justice had been served. At least for Silver.

Sean returned to school the next day to learn that John Paul was expelled and not able to kick his ass, so I took on the chore. I accidentally ran in to him (literally) a few blocks from school in the middle of a street. He didn't get hit as hard or as often as I had, but I definitely laid it to him. I don't remember seeing or talking to either of them for the rest of the school year and my girl friend? She dropped his sorry ass after the whole affair was over so I was happy in the end.

Katrina relief, in my perspective

2006-03-12T21:42:00.000-06:00

Hurricane Katrina devastated most of the southern coast around Texas and Louisiana, and a lot has been televised about New Orleans and all the people that have been displaced. Let me tell you something...

The hurricane was coming and it was bad, so get out if you can. All the people with insurance, all the people with a ride and/or money to buy motel rooms, left and left the coast quick. Then the storm hit. The thugs, the crackheads, the thieves, the prostitutes, all the bullshit was left behind.

After the storm, the Government felt obligated to house these people. The Super Dome is the only option and sounds good until little girls start getting raped. People are killing each other, it's anarchy, and so we (the Government) decide to transport all these these people elsewhere.

Busses are full of shit that you don't want in you city; thugs, crackheads, bad asses, and they are coming to your town to receive free room and board, free food and a gift card. Yes, a gift card for $500 to do whatever they wish. Buy clothes and food? No. How about diapers or a new TV? Nope. They are buying bling. How about a $480 necklace or a new pistol? Has the government lost their minds?

This is bullshit. I have a snitch that was displaced and she/he is mad because all the gov money is gone and she/he doesn't have anything left to trade for dope. And she/he doesn't want to be a snitch, she/he doesn't have much choice.

How much money went to the tax-payer that got displaced and had insurance? I think none. The gov leaves that up to insurance, which means we pay more. FEMA is paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for people to guard empty buildings, bordering states have to handle the displaced "victims" and all the "good" people are faced with higher deductibles.

Um, yeah I got a roach

2006-03-09T19:46:00.000-06:00

Another patrol story that I wasn't even involved with but is absolutely horrific. I came in one morning for day shift. Day shift shows up about 4:30 a.m. (which is bullshit) and we are getting briefed on what happened the night before. So Sarge says they got a 9-1-1 call to one of the project complexes and a woman had a roach in her ear. I heard, a roach on her ear. Like a marijuana roach, a little weed, cool but who calls 9-1-1 for that and what's the story?

Sarge is looking at me and laughing his ass off as I sit there a bit perplexed, a lot tired and pretty confused. I misunderstood. A woman had a roach, a cockroach IN her ear. I didn't believe it, you can't believe it. How do you lure a roach into your ear?

So he plays the 9-1-1 recording. It's like 3:30 in the morning and at first it's a guy who is drunk off his ass. He calls, dispatch picks up, he is absolutely hysterical and you can barely make out what he is desperately trying to say. He is yelling, slurring, trying unsuccessfully to annunciate ambulance and the only thing that is for sure is that a roach is involved. Dispatch is confused and can't make out what the problem is so he passes the phone.

A very calm woman gets on the phone. She is not at all excited, not hysterical, not drunk, and very deliberate. "Um, yeah I have had this roach up in my ear for about 3 days now". Holy shit!! This woman has had a live cockroach in her ear canal for 3 days!!! No way. Ok, first... how do you tolerate a cockroach in your ear for more than 3 seconds? 3 days? I would have cut my own head off after 30 seconds.

Then I wonder... how do come to have a roach in your ear? They typically run from people, not hide in them. Was it on the pillow and someone turned the lights on? The ear must have been the first, closest, dark place to hide. Maybe it was on the pillow and she rolled over in her sleep really quickly. Hell, I don't know, maybe the roach had an ear wax fetish. Regardless, this woman managed to handle her daily routine for 3 days with a live roach in her ear. UUUUGGGHHHH!

So, if this ever happens to you, you are nasty and you need to clean up. But you can free the roach by spraying water or another liquid solution into your ear to flush out the bug.

My favorite undercover story

2006-03-08T18:59:00.000-06:00

Brandon and I load up with a bunch of paraphernalia, money and beer and set out to buy some crack. In the particular part of town we are going to, it isn't hard to do. There is a half block area known only as "Crack Alley". At the time, you literally could not get within a block and stop your car without being flogged by crackheads wanting to pick some up for you.

So we go and talk to, like the leader of the pack or the crackhead's tribal chief for the area. He recruits an addict on a bicycle to service us. Quick point, if you see a crackhead on a bike, that bike is stolen and that's all there is to it. Anyway, the addict loads up, we give him some money, drive him across town, he gets the dope and brings it back for us, the deal is done and he is penitentiary bound, so we take him back to the alley and his bike. We told him that if the product was good we would be back later for a larger amount and a female (prostitute) if one was available. He agrees so we leave.

We don't really want to be with a crack whore, we are looking for another case. So we stay gone a while and return. Same addict, same alley, same bike, same deal. He gets the money from us and goes to get the dope but doesn't return. That son of a bitch ripped us off. We tried to find him afoot to confront him, play the role, threaten to beat him down and all that but never found him. So we go back to the alley to talk with the chief.

He greets us only to find that we are pissed off. His man ripped us and we were regular customers at that point. Being a good business manager, he quickly attempts to recover to maintain business. He first tries to cover for his boy. "Maybe he thought you all were the Police". We didn't miss a beat. Out of the SUV and straight to the bike that jackass was riding. "What are you doing", asked the chief. We are stealing his bike to take it down the road and sell it to get our money back.

At this point there is no question... no way we are cops and we are still pissed. So fortunately for the manager, a dope ho is walking down the alley. He actually had a look on his face like he caught a break and is aimed to please us. How funny is that? "Still looking for a female?" Yes we are. "Ok, hold on a sec". He hit her up and she was game without an ounce of hesitation. So we load her up and off we go.

The deal... She will buy and deliver to us any kind and any amount of dope we want. She gets $20 worth of the dope and we both get sex from her after the fact. Hell of a deal I thought. Our first stop drew a blank, the dealer was gone to reconcile his stash. So we go to stop #2, a gimme. No doubt she was going to score. So while she is going to get the dope I child-locked her door and talked with the surveillance team.

The plan... Get the dope from her, keep her preoccupied and drive her straight to jail, where the surveillance team will jump out of the bushes and from behind parked cars and nab her. After all, I am not going to sleep with this bitch and I don't know who she is. Good plan.

She returned with the dope, gave us ours and we are on our way. Brandon asked if she had her share of the dope and she did. He asked what we were going to get for that $20 worth. Suck, fuck, whatever you want. Brandon asked, both of us? Yeah. At the same time? That bitch said, "Hell I aint no whore". I almost fell out of the vehicle. Are you kidding me? Two guys you don't know, all the way with both, for $20 worth of dope. No, you are worse than your typical whore. Most self-respecting whores would get $40 a person.

So we drove her to the station, where officers decended down upon her like she was the only female in a bar full of drunken sailors. We took her $20 worth of dope, charged her with delivery and solicitation of prostitution, and I assume, left her dumb ass horny (Cause we are some good looking guys, lol).

Tornado day

2006-03-07T22:27:00.000-06:00

March the 1st marked the 9th anniversary of the strongest line of tornadoes to ever hit Arkansas. Unfortunately, Arkadelphia was the first (and one of the hardest hit) areas to receive tragedy that day. I was on duty and in a patrol car that day.

It was at the end of the shift and I was gassing up with our Lt. and another officer. All of a sudden the emergency management officer (who is NEVER on our radio frequency) is not only on our frequency but screaming franticly. I couldn't even make out what he was saying. But dispatch did. The tornado sirens, which we were standing at the base of, turned on and sounded off. Holy shit those things are loud!!

I asked what was going on. "A tornado is coming", "blah, blah blah blah, blah blah". Tornado? I never lived in a tornado zone before so I am wondering, "what do we do?". Then I hear what we're supposed to do. "Spread out, go find it".

Go find it? Go find it and do what? Last I knew they don't stop for blue lights and a siren. What do we do when we find it? I'm thinking go hide and see if it finds me. That sounded much more reasonable but I wasn't in charge. So now I'm recalling the tornadoes I had seen on Discovery Channel... tall, thin, spinning, tearing shit up and throwing it around, pretty obvious, and always clearly seen. So I decide to go south. There is a long straight stretch of highway there surrounded by open fields. I would see it coming for miles. So I go south, down this highway with a deep ditch on either side, and decide to set up on a high culvert over one of the ditches (which are both over flowing with water from the down pour of rain).

I couldn't see shit. The wind was unreal and the rain so hard that super-fast on the wipers wasn't close to fast enough. I see down the road and across the open field a very low, very dark wall of clouds approaching. The closer it got, the stronger the wind. VERY strong. At one point the car is being pushed across the culvert towards the ditch full of water. If I am pushed in I will likely be pinned, upside down, in my car. Like a good cop, I pull my gun ready to shoot my way out of the vehicle if necessary.

The wall of clouds ended up being the tornado. Never saw that on Discovery. It ripped through a portion of town destroying almost everything in it's 1/2 mile wide path. And when it was gone, everything was gone... no wind, no rain, and the sun came out. Eerie in and of itself, but I had to return to town.

I had driven through this part of town almost every day for a year. Hell, I drove through that part of town 20 minutes earlier (which felt like 10 seconds) going to look for the tornado. People that frequently drive certain routes unconsciously learn what to expect. Example; I know what to expect after every curve in the road driving north. After the next curve there's a house on the left, then an open pasture. On the right a bunch of junk piled around a mobile home, then a church, then a few houses, then a plot of pine trees. In this case, driving through downtown, in one half block of the route, I know there are no sidewalks, I can't stop or park, there are two-story buildings on either side, so it is always dark, and I expect to see that before I even make the turn. Everyone does this without even knowing it and you may catch yourself looking twice whenever someone starts a new build or remodel.

Anyway, I return to downtown after the tornado. Well, I try to get back to downtown. Forget the roads, they are covered up with debris and utilities, we are driving through lots that houses used to be at, driving through lawns of wrecked houses and ultimately running on foot to get there.

Everyone that has any sense of help is in a state of shock and urgency. Everything you have gotten used to seeing on a particular corner is gone. Imagine cutting out a section of town; the houses, businesses, trees and plants, utility services, parking lots and cars, street signs, everything.. and put it into a blender with the lid off and hit puree for 3 minutes. It is absolutely unbelievable and cannot be accurately depicted on paper or by photos.

So I get to the area of town most affected and , well after the fact, realize that there are very different personality types. Some people simply cannot handle it, just cry and scream and have no control. Most are very concerned and do whatever it takes to help (thank you all) and the effort was very impressive and very assuring that people have a natural instinct to help. And then you have the thugs. Fucking crackheads and sorry ass people that don't have shit and they are the ones on the run, pilfering and looting, digging around businesses and homes that they assume were vacant. It was a very sorry sight to see. It was like salt in an open wound.

The purpose of this blog site is not just to be funny, it is to recall life experiences and evoke emotion every now and then. I guess the point is that this experience helped me to define what I do for a living and who I am and what I care about. I know it did the same for many "common" citizens. I hope it does the same for you. And if another tornado comes you will likely find me in a bank safe or walk-in cooler at a convenience store. Hey, I want to be around either a lot of money or a lot of junk food and soda.

You're not Rodney King, shut up

2006-03-06T18:17:00.000-06:00

I was reminded of this incident the other day. I stopped a young guy, 18 or 19 one night while working patrol. I walked up to the driver's door and asked the driver to roll down the window. He did and out of the car arose the sweet stench of weed burning. Oh yeah, I'm about to get me some dope. Moreso, he left his double-barreled pipe in plain view on the hump between the driver and front passenger.

So I ask the guy out of the car and he complies. I tell him I smell weed, he agrees. I tell him I'm about to search he and his car and he tells what all he has and where it's at. He was very polite, soft and well spoken, obviously cooperative (for a change), and having seized all of his dope and paraphernalia we were off to jail.

We get to the jail and the booking process goes well. Again, no problems at all out of the kid. So then he asks for a phone call to let his mom know what happened. Ok course. I pass the phone and continue writing out tickets. He gets mom on the phone and in an instant transforms from the polite and well-spoken kid to a lieing ass thug from the projects.

"Hey, momma... you need to get down here to the jail right now. The Police done picked me up on some bullshit charges. Yeah, they done beat my ass!! They was hitting me in the head, slammed the car door on my legs..." He was yelling and waving his arms around. Very believable, but I am standing right there. I couldn't believe it. I get around to him and tell him he can't lie to his mother like that. His response, "man it's ok, you know how it is".

No, I don't know how it is. And then he went into phase 2. "Momma, come get me out, they bout to beat me again." I tell him he had better quit. He doesn't. "They done threw me on the car, beat me in the head, slammed the door on me, towed my shit and now gonna trump up some charges on me".

At that point I felt like beating his ass. Instead I hung up the phone and told him how sorry he was for saying all that, documented that he was compliant and had no injuries and went on about my business.

The mad shitter

2006-03-05T15:53:00.000-06:00

To kick off a week of blogs about the job, I start with one of the most unbelievable actions ever taken by a police officer.

Quick overview... this guy gets assigned to the task force and is most likely gay and most definitely a freaking idiot. He was constantly doing things wrong, violating policy and a civil right here and there. Just impossible to supervise and train (this was before my tenure as Director) and the Director just let him run free. Probably why he isn't the Director any more.

So supercop gets a search warrant for a place that is supposed to have a meth lab and a bunch of dope. He goes to the place with a couple of road deputies and no one appears to be home. So he calls for us to come help with the search. We arrive and learn that the dope cook was in the woods hunting off a 4 wheeler and showed up only to be arrested and hauled off. Supercop has already kicked the door in and started searching.

The place is unbelievably nice. I mean very clean, new furniture, game room with a pool table, food in the cabinets, the dishes done, the laundry put away neatly, and (for the only time in my career) a huge meth lab with no Confederate flag hanging in the yard and sex toys laying around the bedroom floor.

We find the lab and the dope and leave to carry out the rest of our business. The lady that lives there wrote a formal complaint about the way the property was left. Now we don't pick up after ourselves. If we move something while searching and we have found dope, you are going to have some cleaning up to do when we are done. Most people don't realize that we have moved anything because the house was trashed when we got there. So I wasn't all that surprised that this lady complained. That is until I read the complaint.

She alleged that we looked at all her pictures of herself naked and left them laying around the bedroom. That's true, freak. She alleged we drank all her beer and left the cans in the floor. Not true, the beer cans came out of her trash can, the same can nearly $350 worth of dope was in. And we looked, she only had two beers left when we got there, wasn't worth the effort. And finally, she alleged that someone shit in her bathroom trash can and wiped with the shower curtain, towels and other linen in the cabinets. Come on now, that's absurd.

Or so I thought. Supercop admits to the allegation a week later. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that he shit himself in the first place. I mean what happened? The guy with the gun scared you, you kicked the door too hard, you got sick? What makes you shit yourself? Then he goes in the house and tries to tidy himself up. You have to be kidding me. Make an excuse, leave the property, go home to shower and change, then come back to work. Nope, he goes to the bathroom, pulls down his pants, cuts out his underwear, and in an attempt to hide them from us places his shitty underwear under the trash can liner. Left the trash can in the bathroom. Did he think they would never be found there? So he cleans himself up. I'm sure there was paper in there, why use the shower curtain and linens? Then he TELLS it. He told off on himself. What a dumb ass.

I hope it never happens but I promise you this... If I ever shit my pants the only way I get caught is if someone is there to smell or maybe hear it and sees the confused, guilty expression on my face. Because I am getting the hell out of there and taking the evidence with me. And don't expect me to tell it, oh, hell no. That's my little secret for life.

Camping, Day 2

2006-03-02T21:12:00.000-06:00

I will never tent camp again, so it's time to camp and I am on the prowl for a camper. I have a friend that just bought a used camper, which is "nice" and "clean" and he says, "come get it any time". I am in a bind. Tasha is hell-bent on camping and I am not sleeping in a tent. So I hit up my buddy. "Hell ya, come get it... we'll set it up and everything for you".

That's a friend. So I agree and show up to pick up the camper. No safety chains, no trailer lights, and I have to drag this thing to the lake. I was a nervous wreck. So we go to the lake, find a spot, get it parked, and there's a trick to rig the lights and everything work. So my buddy tells me his wife will "rig" the camper so everything will work. Apparently McGyver set this thing up.

The kids, wife and I show up the next day and there is a conglomeration of redneck bullshit going on that we just could not tolerate. Football string lights? Anyway, we have a camper so lets camp! 86 the lights and the chicken-pattern tablecloth, good to go.

The lights in the camper will not turn on. I have no idea what's wrong. But who cares? We are there to swim, cook, burn wood, have a good time, drink beer, and just sleep in the camper, so I don't care that the lights don't work.

Imagine this... been swimming all day, eating, drinking, tending to a fire, playing dominoes, and at the end of the day we are VERY tired, I am full of beer, and it's time for bed. So we go to the camper (the camper with no lights). Everyone settles in, the kids are asleep and it's our turn. Tasha lays down, everything is cool, then I lay down. The bed collapses and is laying at a 45 degree angle. I stumbled around for several minutes trying to fix it, but I can't see, and had a few too many beers, so I decide to sleep that way.

3am... I have to piss. HAVE to piss, not in a minute or two, I have to go. I go to the door and there is no door knob on the inside. Can you believe that? I push on the door, no results. I bang on the door, push forcefully at the knob, I am still locked in. I am kicking the door like I am serving a search warrant, bent it all to hell, and the kids are sitting straight up crying wondering who is trying to get into the camper when I am actually trying to escape. The door finally gave and I made two steps into the camp area before I was peeing.

The kids settled down, went to sleep, I finished peeing and on to the next day. New rules are... have everything in the camper and in order before dark and have a light handy, oh and don't close the door all the way. But we did. The next day, just before dark, we are in the camper and someone (probably me) closed the door. I pushed, I pryed, I kicked the shit out of it and eventually realized an escape hatch in one of the front windows. So I kick out one of the kids and she freed us from the camper.

The next time I camp I will have a camper, my own camper, with lights, a level bed and a door I can open.

Camping, Day 1

2006-03-01T18:31:00.000-06:00

From the moment we moved to Arkansas Tasha hounded me to go camping. We didn't have a camper or a tent, so the answer is no. She says we can borrow a tent from her parents. This tent has been out of circulation for years and, more importantly, I am not sleeping on the ground in a camping area when I can sleep at home.

We literally live 5 minutes from the lake and camping area. Let's go swim, bask in the sun, build a fire, cook on the grill, do the fun part and go home to sleep. We can get up early and go right back. I can sleep in my bed, shit in my bathroom and take a shower without wearing flip-flops and without being bit by a snake. Isn't that ideal?

No... we have to stay the night to be "camping" so we try mom and dad's tent (it leaks) and buy a tent and blow-up mattresses for comfort. That's funny. Comfort? Have you been to Arkansas in the summer? It is NOT a dry heat. The humidity is so bad you can literally sweat through a pair of clothes checking mail.

Ok, here we go... tent-camping. After the tent is finally up and secure, Tasha unloads the supplies. We brought half the kitchen and apparently all the linen. Maybe we brought all the kitchen and half the linen. Anyway, everything is cool until bed time.

Let me first advise that a tent does nothing for sound-proofing the area you are sleeping in. There's a young crowd down the road at another site that will yell and scream until 2am, and an older crowd all around you that gets up at 5am to rush to the showers in flip-flops, all the while you are up anyway sweating your ass off. If the noise isn't enough, the critters are relentless. They are trained to steal your food in the middle of the night. Squirrels ate through a plastic picnic basket and stole the cookies and then the coons moved in. It's 2:30 am and I just fell asleep, stuck to the mattress from the sweat, and Tasha is running across the camp screaming at a coon that has mastered how to open a cooler and throwing rocks thinking that will deter his efforts.

Are you kidding me? When I woke up (about 6 am) we had all the food in the tent, clothes, the kids, us, and managed about 2 hours of sleep. Didn't I mention we live 5 minutes from the lake? The house is for sale, the cat, the boat, and the tent. I will never do that again unless it's on an island or isolated area somewhere not so humid and with not so wild and trained animal thieves.

Day 2 is tomorrow... even worse (for different reasons).

THE undisputed drama queen

2006-02-28T17:38:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-27T20:06:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-27T09:16:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-23T21:30:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-22T20:35:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-21T20:06:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-20T21:15:00.000-06:00

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??

2006-02-17T21:20:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-17T20:25:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-16T23:06:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-14T22:19:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-14T21:44:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-11T19:13:00.000-06:00

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!!

2006-02-10T17:44:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-08T18:34:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-08T18:08:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-06T19:18:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-04T18:38:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-03T19:45:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-02T21:02:00.000-06:00

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

2006-02-01T19:17:00.000-06:00

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.

Play Ball!!

2006-01-31T19:15:00.000-06:00

This Country has faced many epidemics in it's history but I think none compare to the widespread growth and popularity of softball, especially for young girls. You can't compare it to wild fires, more like illegal immigration out of Mexico. Let's face it, you can't get near a chicken plant without running into a thousand drunken illegal aliens.

Anyway, maybe this has been going on for a while and I didn't realize it because my girls weren't old enough to play. But it is in full swing today, buddy. Every year the ages get lower and lower, the tournaments and leagues get bigger and bigger, the games more and more competitive, and the coaching more aggressive.

Last year my two daughters played on five different teams. They had to be places, usually different places, every single day. When softball isn't in season, lessons are in order. At $60 an hour for two hours every weekend, nearly all winter long! Shoes, bats, gloves, hairbows, sleeve scrunchies for Christ sakes, sliding shorts, sports bras, entry fees upon entry fees, not to mention the travel expenses, food, etc.

In all probability, softball has cost me a new bass boat, a bigger "man room", and hours upon hours of time I could have been making home improvement (like fixing the toilet) or watching Sumo Wrestling (or whatever happens to be on ESPN).

But what do you do? You can't fight it, you can't deprive the children of a chance at a scholarship and chance to play in the Olympics (as if one percent of the girls playing even have a shot). So you go with the flow, rack up some serious miles, and hope the grandparents are there to feed you because we spent all our money paying rent for Hibbett Sports.

So, if you have kids and they are able to play sports and want to play sports, embrace it and do whatever you can to support their efforts. Hold them when the get hurt, encourage them when they lose, celebrate with them when they win, teach sportsmanship, and as a parent keep your mouth shut and your ass in your seat during the game. No one wants to hear or see an unruly parent that disagrees with a call or coaching decision.

Next month we are playing a charity softball game to raise money (of course) for the fields and local leagues. For once I get to go to the field and actually play! I will pay the parking fee, buy a t-shirt (or 4), enter the home run derby and have some illegal aliens fix me lunch at the concession stand. No really, the parents will be doing that.

Anyway, I say... let's Play Ball!!

Tuke, King of the Suburban Jungle

2006-01-30T21:23:00.000-06:00

Tuke is the family cat. Let me rephrase that... Tuke is my daughters' cat that somehow got transferred to my house to serve his time when the wife and I divorced. It didn't take long to figure out that this isn't your run-of-the-mill cat. I'll explain.
Tuke has a perfectly good litter box that he refused to use. He may, on occasion, walk over to it, paw some kitty litter onto the floor and walk away from it, but never ever shits in it. When he has to "go" he walks to the door and asks for the door to be open and he will walk right into a thunderstorm to pee. When he's done he comes back, knocks on the door (yes, knocks on the door... I don't know how, exactly, but he does) and spends the rest of the day laying around.
Tuke obviously has no great fear of water, kinda strange, but he had a habit of getting into the tub with me when I was taking a shower. Just paw around a bit, get a sip of soapy water, and leave a trail of wet paw prints down the hallway when he was done.
He has a water dish...doesn't drink from it. The sinks, the tub, the toilets (damn the toilet!!) but definitely not the water dish.
Last summer we had a two-day trip planned so I filled up his food and water dish, made sure the litter box was clean, left the kitchen window cracked for some fresh air and left him home alone. He was forced to use both the water dish and litter box. Or so I thought.
I returned home to find it ransacked. Not from a burglar, from the damn cat. Plants knocked over, toilet paper pulled off the roll, blinds in disarray, pictures on the floor, books knocked over... you name it, it looked like a home invasion robbery had taken place. The cat, however, was missing.
Very confused, I searched everywhere to find no Tuke. Then I found it. He cut a hole in the screen in the kitchen window that I left cracked and made his escape. He returned home a short time later very proud of himself, leering at the litter box as he walked with a bit of attitude in his strut to the food dish.
Now the wife and I have reconciled and plan to co-habitate so I called a realtor to list my house. He called early the other morning and woke me to tell me he was coming to photo the house. I stepped out of the bed and walked into the hallway to find the house COVERED in feathers. Feathers were everywhere. All over the floors, on the furniture, counters, appliances, every nook and cranny. I found a dead bird and apparent blood letting in the office and a second deceased in the living room floor.
I should have known better, should have closed the window, should put him out at night so I don't have to deal with him while I am trying to sleep, but I didn't. So the realtor is on his way and the race is on. Anyone looking to move to Arkansas? The cat may stay with the house.

King of the Throne

2006-01-28T18:51:00.000-06:00

The throne, the phone to the porcelain Gods, the shitter... whatever you call the toilet, there is more to it than a cold seat to take care of #2. Some of my most important phone calls have occured while on the throne. I have completed numerous crossword and Su Doku puzzles while on the throne. I have read books on the throne. Hell, I have slept at the base of a throne or two... but there is more to it then you think.
The problem... a consistent leak of water into the toilet from the tank. What could cause this? Faulty (don't know the techinical name; the plastic flappy thingamajig that covers the hole that allows the water to leave the tank for the toilet). Or, faulty (bulb?) that raises to stop the water from pouring into the tank in the first place. Easy peasy. I have a college education... it's a freaking toilet, how complicated can it be.
Ha, well... first things first. I removed the cover or lid from the tank and straddle the toilet. I notice and very strange black or dark brown slime in there. What the hell is that? Clean water enters a porcelain tank, which is regularly replenished with more clean water, yet there is a funky sludge in there. Any ideas? I am baffled.
Ok, the flappy thing is good, the bulb appears to be operating properly, I am running out of parts and possible solutions. Adjust the bulb height, have the water shut off earlier. Done, still leaks. Readjust, done, still leakes. Recheck the flappy thing. Good. Adjust water pressure entering the tank (shot in the dark), still leaks. Nothing else moves or can be adjusted. How did this just all of a sudden occur and why the hell won't it fix itself?

I have no idea how to fix it. I have failed as a husband, as a dad, and Bob Vila can kiss my ass. It's not like I had to re-plumb the entire house, I know, but if you can't fix a toilet of all things what good are you? It's a damn good thing I can hang Christmas lights and change light bulbs.

Solution: Turn off the water source to stop the waste and buy a new toilet. I never really liked that one anyway. And I know how to install a toilet, wax ring and all.
Kiss my ass and eat shit (one more time) toilet!!!!