About

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Money Well Spent

Cry Freedom

As you know, the Labor Day weekend is fast approaching, and many folks pack up and trek to the shore for one last summer fling. My delightful family will be amongst them.

I, however, will not.

The wife and kids will be traveling to North Jersey with her brother's family and my in-laws to spend the long weekend at her cousin's shore house. Unfortunately for me, I have to go to work (to put food on the table) and won't be able to participate in the frolicking. But I do have some good news that is not car insurance related: I have a free house on Friday night!

Whoo hoo! Strippers, beer, and video games!!!

Okay, probably not, but I do have a list of things to do when the family is away:

Walk around the house nude. Who needs clothes when you're the only one home? If someone comes to the door, I'll just step into a grocery bag a la Homer Simpson. "I have misplaced my pants."



Straighten up the homestead. My house isn't dirty, but it is cluttered beyond belief. The second the family pulls out of the driveway, I'm going to work. This way, when the gals from the escort service arrive, I can claim I am single with no kids. Kidding!

Crank up the movie theater. There are still too many DVD's that I haven't yet watched. The first on the list is Underworld. Kate Beckinsale in a leather cat suit? Purrrrrr!

Get re-acquainted with my old friend, Playstation 2. One of the unfortunate things about having children is that they are very impressionable. I can't exactly be shooting bad guys in front of the boy – he may get the impression that violence is okay. And I don't want him learning that lesson until he's at least six!

Of course, knowing me, I will probably sleep the day away and get nothing done.

The Earp Plan

So, I'm watching some of the footage from the New Orleans disaster, and the next thing I know, there's a story about the looters. Frakkin' looters after the Katrina flooding! A few seconds later, I see a New Orleans police officer point a shotgun at one of these toads, who drops the merchandise and flees like a little bitch. Finally, the voice of reason at the barrel of a gun. Somebody buy that cop a beer!

Anyway, it got me thinking about my plan for law and order in America. I humbly call it The Earp Plan. Bear with me, because I think it's a winner. Under The Earp Plan, on January 1 every American will receive ten rounds of ammunition to use as they see fit. Hear that, kids? Ten free rounds with no consequences! If you want to fire them off randomly, knock yourself out. If you want to take the law into your own hands, be my guest. If you want to stop jackass looters in The French Quarter, fine by me. These ten rounds will be distributed every year, but cannot be transferred to another legal citizen. So use them wisely, folks.

I believe in this plan. This plan is rock solid. This plan is sound. And I believe this plan will make the toads think twice before trying something stupid. When I run for office, the Earp Plan will be the cornerstone of my platform.

But, what do I know?

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Not Funny!

There are still two races left before the Chase, sport. Don't count out the #24 yet.

Wagon The Dog

Well kids, it's that time again. My turn on the "wagon wheel" came up last night, and it was hardly an uneventful night. Last night's turn was bittersweet, since my old partner and I aren't talking anymore, but as Michael Jackson would say, "The show must go on. Now where are the Boy Scouts?"

11:15pm-11:35pm - Roll call, equipment check. The night starts off perfectly. I jump in the wagon, turn the key, and . . . bubkis. The damned wagon is as dead as Hunter S. Thompson. Swell. We unpack, walk across the lot, and jump into "01" wagon. That sucker fires right up, but has no air conditioning - not good news for a big fatty-fat-fat-fat like me.

11:40pm-12:00am - Domestic. We get a domestic disturbance right outta the gate, but luckily it was only Mr. Winchester. Mr. Winchester is the district drunk/crazy guy. He calls police for such important issues as asking the time and the neighbor in apartment "J." Unfortunately, his row only goes up to apartment "I."

12:00am-12:30am - Security check. I know I'm gonna get ripped for this, but I'll tell you anyway. We are driving past the 24-hour PathMark near the projects (home to Mr. Winchester), and we see seven African-American teenagers staring at us. We keep driving, and they scurry into the market. Since they were more interested in us than anything else, we decided to go back to the store and see what was up. I park right in front of the big windows for all to see, and the utes (Did you say utes? What is a ute?) walk to the rear of the store. About twenty minutes later, they realize we aren't leaving, so they all exit the store empty-handed. Were we profiling? Yeah. Did it work? Probably.

2:00am-3:00am - Theft in progress. Radio puts out a call for a theft in progress near the Pennypack woods. The description was four Arabic males casing cars on the block. When the first patrol car arrives, the males flee into the woods, leaving their car at the scene with the keys inside! After checking the woods to no avail, the sergeant decides it's time to screw with the little bastards. He tells my partner to drive their vehicle into HQ, leaving them stranded in the woods. We laughed the whole way back. About an hour later, the morons return to the scene, not realizing that some officers stayed in the area to look for them, and were quickly arrested.

3:00am-4:00am - Lunch and stuff. We only get a thirty minute lunch break (actually, we get 33 minutes, but don't ask me why) so we try and eat fast. As we finish, the waitress says that she heard six gunshots by (you guessed it) the projects. We get to the scene quickly (and my partner is saying, "Please, please, please, let there be a body") and see a woman standing on the corner. My partner asks her if she heard anything, and she confirms that there were four shots fired. The next obvious question was "Where did they come from?" Her obvious response: "I don't know." He doesn't ask for it, but I give my partner some of Wyatt's social commentary: "Ya know, these people live here. Wouldn't you think that they would want us to find the guy shooting up their neighborhood? Next time, it might be them on the receiving end, and when it is, it'll be the police's fault, because we never did anything about it in the first place!"

4:00am-7:00am - Smooth sailing. For some reason, the radio died for the last three hours of the tour. Not that we minded.

It's Funny When It Happens To Them

For the past few weeks my division has been getting its ass kicked by one lone scumbag. He has been responsible for over a dozen "smash and grab" burglaries in two districts. After breaking the store's window, he leaps inside, takes the register, and flees with it and any cash inside. Simply put, he's been embarrassing the hell out of the police.

The adjoining district caught him inside a store last week, and he escaped our grasp by assaulting an officer. The district caught the scumbag's floozy girlfriend, and confiscated his vehicle, but that's about it. When interviewed, the floozy told detectives that the scumbag "wasn't going back to jail. He'll fight the cops first."

Good. I love a challenge.

Fast forward to this past weekend. The scumbag is driving in the Kensington section of the city, when he is seen by a patrol car. The officer tries to stop the scumbag's car, but he takes off. After a long pursuit (Hooray! Pursuit!!), the scumbag's car hits the curb and stops. The officers exit their car and approach the vehicle, when the scumbag fires a round at police. The round misses, but he then puts his car in reverse, and hits one officer with his rear bumper, knocking him into the air. The injured officer's partner fires at the scumbag, hitting him in the shoulder. Scumbag arrested. Justice done.

See? Sometimes karma works in favor of the good guys.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Third? Word.

Yours truly took third place in GOP and the City's Weekend Caption Contest! I didn't think I had the stuff to win, but I'll take a third - especially when I'm making fun of the Hill-debeast.

In other GOP and the City related news, I have been given my first assignment for the Blogs for Bauer Challenge:

Who would you like to see on the next season of 24: Sean Austin or some other actor? What role would they play in the show?

My entry is due by September 6th, which should give me enough time to think of something witty . . . or half-witted.

Visitor #2923, Come On Down!

I can't believe I missed it!

I wanted to make a big deal about the 2,923rd visitor to SYLG, because 2923 is my badge number. (Also, I figure I'll never hit a big milestone like 10,000.) The visitor is not a regular reader (I don't think), but was on the site at 6:23pm yesterday after a Google search for Terrence Flomo. The visitor's server is Verizon.net. (Wow, the site meter gives you all kinds of cool info!) If you are the Mystery Date, please stand up and be counted.

Also, could you stop by the home office and collect your plaque and glazed ham? Thanks.

As They Say In The 'Hood, "My Bad."

Sorry about not posting yesterday, kids. My reasons were two-fold: first, I am still in a funk about the horrible week I had, and second, Sunday was a very busy day.

If there was anything that was gonna break me outta the dumps, golfing with my friends would be the front-runner. Twelve of us planned a trip to Mainland Golf Course, despite the overcast skies. Of course, since we're talking about me here, it was a miracle I ever got to go.

At 10am, my friend Denny calls and wakes me up - 10am on my day off is like calling me at 3am - and says he need me to run to Lowe's with him to buy wooden fencing. Swell. I'm still hung over from Saturday night's viewing of The Aristocrats (and the subsequent Olde City bar hopping), and I'm supposed to be on the road to the course by noon. I shower and run up to Denny's for some manual labor.

We get to Lowe's, and (eventually) find the fencing he is looking for. What strikes me first is the price (Yikes!) . . . then the weight (each of the four pieces weighed a ton). Of course, the four top pieces aren't good enough for Den - he has to sort through them like he's buying melons. One sweat-soaked hour later, we are on our way home. I help him toss the pieces in his yard and speed to the course.

We get there - sure enough, it's raining - pay our fees, and commence the festivities. (Now, mind you, my friends are even more brutal and vicious than my family, and have no regard for golf etiquette.) This plays well with the fact that we play for money, so rude and disgusting comments during a guy's backswing are commonplace. For example, my friend Brian (who is teaming with my brother-in-law Mike) needs to sink a two-foot putt to tie me and my friend Chris. Just as Bri is beginning to hit the ball, Chris says, "Man Boobs." (No, I have no idea what that means, but it was damn funny - and effective - Bri missed the putt.) Get the idea? We're pretty brutal. Surprisingly enough, we all did fairly well (for us). Mike shot a 100, Chris shot a 104, I shot a 105, and Brian shot a 109. A good time was had by all.

And I'm finally out of the doldrums.

The Filthiest Film Ever Made

"Joe Franklin raped me." - Sarah Silverman, "The Aristocrats"

Dave at Garfield Ridge knows funny. Dave knows movies. Quad erat demonstratum, Dave knows funny movies. "The Aristocrats" is a very funny movie, despite the fact that the premise sounds hella-lame: 100 comedians tell the same joke. Yeah, I wasn't too impressed when I heard it, either, but my friend Kevin drug us to the theater all the same.

God damn, it was the funniest/filthiest movie I have ever seen!

Basically, the beginning and end of the joke are the same, but the middle is malleable. The comics make it their own by filling the middle with the most rude, vile acts on top of the dirtiest language this side of South Park. (Okay, it's not everyone's cup o' tea, but I'm a really low brow guy.)

A few observations:
  • How did Bob Saget ever land a role on Full House? He would make Redd Foxx blush.
  • Many of the female comedians (who are usually brutally unfunny) stole the film.
  • Gilbert Gottfried is a national treasure.

The Aristocrats is only in limited release - and after seeing it, I understand - so see it soon . . . if you dare.

Bristol Stomp

This is gonna make GunnNutt, well, nuts! Four-time NASCAR champion Jeff Gordon (#24) pulled out a sixth place finish in Saturday night's Sharpie 500, propelling him into tenth place in the standings - and back into contention for the Chase for the Nextel Cup.

Joy-gasm!

Gordon, who had been as low as 15th place, has been clutch as of late, finishing in the top ten in the last two races. Saturday's duel in Bristol, Tennessee was vintage #24. He stayed out of trouble, and challenged when it was warranted. There are still two races left for Gordon to falter, but so far, so good.

Tony Stewart, watch your bumper.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Wyatt To City: Drop Dead!

Judging by the post title, can you tell if I'm in a better mood today?

For those of you who have been on Mars for the past three months, I live in Philadelphia. Like every major city, this burg has more than its share of problems. High crime rates, taxes that would choke a horse, and an incompetent, corrupt mayor are the norm around here. But lately, things have gone from worse, to "God damn, I gotta get out!" To wit:

  • Today's issue of The Philadelphia Inquirer (*cough* liberal rag *cough*) made no mention of murdered Philadelphia Police Officer Terrence Flomo on the front page. Instead, it had a brief article on page one of the City and Region section. Since murdered police officers don't warrant a mention on the front page, I wonder what the Inky chose instead? Let's see; an article on the tired Donovan McNabb-Terrell Owens feud, another story about the impending closing of the Willow Grove NAS, the FDA's deliberations on an emergency contraceptive, and a blurb about the Iraqi constitution. Wow. I guess I shouldn't be picky, since I'm surprised they covered the story at all.
  • There are those who say that Philly sports fans are the best and most knowledgeable in the country. That's crap. For the most part, they're fickle morons. Take last night's Eagles-Bengals exhibition game. On the first play of the game, QB Donovan McNabb hooked up with whiny a-hole Terrell Owens for a 64-yard touchdown. So, what do the "knowledgeable" fans do right away? They give T.O - who has done nothing this season except piss people off with his crybaby antics - a standing ovation!!! Morons.

See what I mean? "Town needs an enema!"

Friday, August 26, 2005

Life Sucks

I gotta be honest: I am very depressed today, and it's affecting my blogging. I just wanted to apologize to the folks in my sidebar, because I just don't have the energy to blog surf at all. For the record, I check out every blog in the sidebar every day, and comment when I think I have something relative to say. Today is not one of those days. Today I feel like kicking someone's ass - preferably the scumbag that murdered Terrence Flomo. The only release I've had today was my bike - I rode 9 miles through the park. I'm exhausted, but I think it helped.

Anyhow, I know that this is a terrible intro, but one of the Domelighters has started a blog. The Deep End is the new kid on the block - or, in the pool as it were - and I'd appreciate it if you stopped by and welcomed him to the blogosphere. He's a Philadelphia Police Detective - like I hope to be if the damned mayor would ever promote me - and he's very entertaining.

Besides, if I don't promote his blog, he'll make my life miserable if we ever work in the same Detective Division.

Jesus Christ, Not Again!


For the third time since June, the Philadelphia Police Department will be wearing mourning crepes. Early this morning, we lost another one of our own. The officer was shot in the chest by two thugs while sitting in his vehicle in a North Philadelphia neighborhood. He was pronounced at 3:05am. The officer was in plain clothes, but sitting in an unmarked police vehicle, so it is uncertain if he was on duty. Details are still sketchy, but the last update I heard was that 9th District officers witnessed someone fitting the description of the shooter run into a residence on 20th Street. The SWAT team was enroute.

If this suspect is indeed the shooter, I hope he comes out of that house in a body bag.

Update: The murdered officer's name is Terrence Flomo, 50. He was a nine-year veteran of the force and was assigned to the Narcotics Strike Force. He had gone off-duty at 10pm, but it is unknown why he was in that neighborhood. Flomo, married and the father of four children, was conscious and talking when taken to the hospital, (Police Commissioner Sylvester) Johnson said. Currently, the department has no suspects nor motive.

Hansel And Re-Gretel

I hate those teary-eyed movie scenes where a character is on his or her deathbed and tells the audience that they "have no regrets." Oh, yeah, that's realistic. Everyone has some regrets. Hell, I have more regrets than Pamela Anderson has "home movies." Hey! This sounds like a great blog topic! God, I am a genius.

I regret I didn't hit the books hard enough in college. Saint Joseph's University was difficult enough as a wallflower. I played lacrosse, was Editor-in-Chief of and wrote for the newspaper, and generally goofed off for four years - and it showed in my "C" average.

I regret that I have never seen The Ramones live in concert. And since most of the band is now deceased, I never will. Lead singer Joey recently succumbed to cancer. The Ramones personified 70's punk rock, but had an incredible staying power that lasted thirty years. They were (and still are) one of my all-time favorite bands.

I regret that I never saw "Saving Private Ryan" in the theater. I despise Ben Affleck and Matt Damon – so much so that I declined an invite to see Spielberg's epic film. I have since seen it (and purchased my own copy on DVD) and, like everyone else, thought it was amazing.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

You're Welcome, Jacques!

Welcome to another installment of This Day in History.

On this day in 1944, Allied forces liberated Paris after four years of Nazi occupation.

As a sign of their unending gratitude, the French have been as rude as they can be for the past 61 years.

Hey, Frenchie, how's that whole "freedom" thing working out for ya? Do you think that others would like a taste as well?? Others like the people of Iraq???

Just checking.

Good Mourning, Philadelphia

Support Your Local Gunfighter will be wearing a mourning crepe for the rest of the week. Why? Because the most beautiful traffic bunny in the world is getting married on Saturday! Fox 29's Dorothy Krysiuk, 31, is tying the knot – and breaking my heart - this weekend to Anthony Marasa, who works in sales. Not only is she getting hitched, but to a freaking I-talian? You're killing me, Dorothy!

Priorities Gone Awry

The War on Terror, high gas prices, a murdered pregnant teenager, and an attempt to save the Willow Grove air base are all important issues affecting the Philadelphia area. Unfortunately, these items pale in comparison to the cover story of yesterday's uber-liberal Philadelphia Daily News: "Whose Drinks Measure Up? We check out the booze at city's hot bars."

I wish there was a punch line here.

Reason #149 why the Daily Snooze isn't worth wrapping fish.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

My Personal Philosophy

What would I do if I didn't have PS2 to keep me company???

5 Great Movie Gunfights

I'm in a movie kind of mood today, and I've been thinking about some of the more entertaining film gunfights. (After all, this blog is called Support Your Local Gunfighter.) I have a few favorites I'd like to share, but I also have a caveat: these scenes are total Hollywood. I did not discriminate between what is realistic or what is pure bunk. Entertainment value is my main concern here. So, fill your magazine and have your eye and ear protection in place. Here we go . . .

Heat, The Bank Robbery - The penultimate gunfight in all of cinema (in my humble opinion). DeNiro and his gang are leaving the bank at the exact moment Pacino and his cops arrive. Mayhem ensues. Strangely enough, a real-life version of this battle took place on the streets of L.A. not too long after.

The Matrix, Lobby Scene - Is there a person alive who hasn't watched this scene a hundred times? I can quote dialogue verbatim and let you know the exact moment that Carrie Anne Moss walks up the wall. Bonus points for wanton destruction before the elevator bomb goes off!

The Professional, Serving The Warrant - At the end of the film, psycho cop Stansfield (Gary Oldman) takes Natalie Portman hostage and brings the entire NYPD to Leon's apartment to serve a warrant. Leon, a hitman, plucks off Oldman's men one by one until they release Portman - just in time for the SWAT team to fire a missile inside the building! Classic!!

Stansfield: "Manny, bring me everyone."
Manny: "Everyone?"
Stansfield: (Screaming) "EVVVRYYYONE!!!"

Black Hawk Down, Sniper Rescue - Okay, this whole film is a gunfight, but there is one scene that stands above the rest. Delta snipers Gordon and Shughart volunteer to secure Mike Durant's chopper crash site as the entire city rains upon him. The snipers know it's a suicide mission, but they do it anyway. What makes this so extraordinary is that the story is true. Gordon and Shughart lost their lives saving Durant, and were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor posthumously.

Tombstone, Holliday Versus Ringo - I know. The gunfight at the O.K. Corral was terrific, but I like this showdown better. Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer) and Johnny Ringo (Michael Biehn) finally get the chance "to play for blood." Although the scene is short, it is totally kickass!

Well, there ya go. I'm sure I missed some great ones, and if I did I'm sure you guys will let me have it.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Gotta Love The Frogs


PARIS - Lance Armstrong denied a report Tuesday in the French sports daily L'Equipe that said the seven-time Tour de France champion used the performance-enhancing drug EPO to help win his first Tour in 1999.

What, this again??? These rumors surface every time Lance wins the Tour - which, for the record, has been seven straight times! And every time the subject comes up, it is always the work of a French "journalist."

Look, Henri, he beat your best . . . again! And if Lance wasn't retiring, he'd beat the balls off your countrymen next year, too. Why? It's not because he's taking performance enhancing drugs; it's because he's just that damned good.

Hilton Head Case

As if we needed another reason to hate Paris Hilton.

Hilton, America's favorite whore, has given away her dog Tinkerbell because the teacup Chihuahua had grown too large. She subsequently snatched another Chihuahua, Bambi, who is reportedly small enough for the hotel heiress to carry.

Hey, Paris, animals are not fashion accessories, you empty-headed bimbo!

(I am not a liberal by any stretch of the imagination, but if the folks at PETA are reading this, you have my permission to strangle this broad with a faux mink.)

Monday, August 22, 2005

The Myth Of Power Night

"God hates me. That's what it is." - Roger Murtaugh, Lethal Weapon

Once every two weeks, the Philadelphia Police Department has a quirk in the work schedule. On this day, every officer in the city is scheduled to work. The brass call it "Power Night," but the reality is nothing of the sort. For example, last night was "Power Night." During roll call, our sergeant told us that we would have seven cars, one wagon, and one plainclothes team working the tour. Eleven cops . . . out of 22. Batting .500 may get you into the Hall of Fame, but working with only fifty percent of a squad is inherently dangerous.

I don't have the time nor the stomach to explain everyone's lack of attendance, except to say that only three of the officers were on summer vacation. Do the math. I guess everyone else got a 24-hour virus. Either way, we started off the night with only five cars and a wagon. (The plainclothes team was doing a surveillance, and two of the cars were assigned jobs right from the gun.) Luckily for me, I came into work in a really sour mood, and this news didn't do anything to lighten it.

And lemme tell you about the two cars. The first one was assigned to process a burglary scene right out of roll call. Sometimes crime scenes take a while to finish, but a three-year old chimp can do it in two hours, tops. Of course, this guy is a toad, so it took him FIVE hours! That's not a typo, kids, he took five hours to take fingerprints, while the rest of us were running our arses off. (I had eleven radio calls last night, and considering how slow my district usually is, that's a brutal evening!) The other jackass was sitting on a city vehicle which was vandalized . . . for FIVE hours!!! Again, if he called the tow squad a.s.a.p., he would have been back in the fight by 2am at the latest.

So, now I'm royally pissed, running around like a chicken without a head (I was given three sectors to cover), and soon noticed it was "Idiot Night" in the district. To wit:
  • My first call is for a burglary report. I arrive on location, and this guy tells me (with a straight face) that someone jimmied open his bedroom window and took . . . his window blinds. That's it. Nothing else. I laughed in spite of myself, and asked the man if I was being Punk'd. He said no.
  • A little later, I get a call to take a stolen auto report. The woman states that someone stole her car from her lot at work. I ask her for some info on the car and she has bubkis. I knew the quote was coming, so I braced myself: "All of my paperwork is in the car." I cringed and said, "So, if a cop stops the car, and the driver (read: thief) says he doesn't have his license with him, but shows him your paperwork, do you think we'll lock him up?" She says "probably not." To which I say, "Here endeth the lesson."

Sidebar: Hey, kids, please listen up for a sec. My job is difficult enough without you guys making it easier on thieves. Never leave your registration and insurance cards in the car. Frankly, it's an asinine thing to do. Thank you.

  • By 5am, I am pissed, tired, and hungry, so I take lunch with the plainclothes team. My food just arrives when my guests jump out of their seats and run out the door. Being the curious type, leave the food and follow. They run across the lot to the Pathmark, where I see security holding a female shoplifter. Swell, I guess I'm not eating today. The plainclothes guys lock the crack whore up - I checked, she smoked crack and was carrying fifteen condoms in her purse; either she was a crack whore or Rick James (God rest his soul) - and I get the lovely chance to take her to detectives. After the usual crying and pleading, she started her poo. First she tried to kick out the window of my car, then she said I was a "faggot." Nice. Finally, she said she was gonna call her friends to come kill me tonight. I wish! When we arrived at the detectives, she told the turnkey that I beat her up.

Par for the course.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

If I Wasn't Married . . .


. . . this is just the kind of girl I'd like to bring home to mom.

Her name is Katie Nauta (or, if you prefer, "Naut-y") and the model-turned-arse kicker will be co-staring in The Transporter 2 next month. Her role as the scantily-clad assassin has gotten her noticed by people whose opinions actually count (read: not mine), because she also landed a role in the 2006 X-Men sequel. Note to Bill: we are so going to see this film!

Grace Amazin', We're Barn Raisin'


As I mentioned yesterday, my friend Bill and I went on a road trip to Amish Country - aka Lancaster, PA - to see the Camden Riversharks play the Lancaster Barnstormers. The trip consisted of about 25 Sharks fans, who met at 4pm. Bill and I pull up to the meeting point, and . . . nuthin'. No Sharks personnel, no fans, the site is a ghost town. We were early, but it still worried us.

After about thirty minutes of nail biting, the first few fans began to show. Whew! A few minutes later, the bus pulled up (air conditioned with a bathroom - exactly what we needed for a two-hour ride to cow-ville). The group was a cornucopia of infamous regulars; "Stoney Stalker," "Picture Chick," "Tube Sock Guy," and the ever popular "Ray Ray." (Yeah, we have nicknames for everyone - Bill is "The 38-Year Old Virgin. Uh, sorry Bill.) We jump on the bus, and are on our way.

Two brutal hours later - the Schuylkill "Expressway" sucks! - we arrive at Clipper Magazine Stadium (pictured, above), and I am mightily impressed. This ballpark is really nice, but it has a definite rural flair - there's an actual barn on the concourse next to the right field seats which doubles as a concession stand. As in Camden, there is a Kids Zone on the concourse near left field which has a rock wall, a moon bounce, and a full-sized carousel!

Then, there was the concession stands. Mmmm . . . ballpark food!

Ya know, any stadium can present hot dogs and peanuts, but the Barnstormers go above and beyond the call of duty. In one corner, there was a server carving fresh ham and chicken for sandwiches - you should have seen the size of the ham; unbelievable - and in the other, there were workers serving Stromboli and sausage and peppers. And don't even get Bill started on the soft pretzels. They were fresh, warm, and huge with a certain sweetness to them. Cripes, those Amish really know their craft!

Oh, yeah, the game! Our seats were very good - four rows from the field on the third base side - but the game itself? Not so much. The Sharks got blitzed, 10-6 - and it wasn't even that close. Don't get me wrong, we had a terrific time, but a win would have made it all the better.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Sleepy Hollow

Sorry for the lack of posting this morning, but my arse is draggin'. I finished work on Friday morning, and got about four hours sleep (so as to not waste my first day off). Last night, I went out with my friends, and we closed the bar. By the time I crawled under the covers, it was 4am. As usually happens when I drink, I woke up much too early - 7am to be exact - and have been stumbling through the day ever since. Seven hours sleep in two days will do that to a person.

Unfortunately for me, my friend Bill and I are going on a road trip to see the Camden Riversharks play the Lancaster Barnstormers tonight. The trip gives season ticket holders a chance to travel with the team to a different venue. The bus leaves scenic, downtown Camden at 4pm for the two hour ride. Ugh! When we signed on, I was psyched, but now I'm just hoping I can stay awake for the National Anthem.

I'll give you all the details of the trip when I get back. That is, if the Lancaster fans don't beat the hell outta us.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Ain't It The Truth?

The First Annual Idiot Awards

You can't tell me that a full moon doesn't affect people. In my experience, it especially affects idiots (and not in a good way). Scientists can blame it on the gravitational pull or cosmic rays, but the bottom line is this: police officers dread when the moon is full. Last night was one for the books. In fact, I wanted to do something special for some exceptional idiots. SYLG presents the First Annual Idiot Awards.

The Irresponsible Parent.

A man walks into the district last night and "demands" to speak to an officer right away. Here we go. The second someone demands anything, I usually tune them out. In fact, my partner is famous for brutalizing people who would try and flag us down by yelling, "Yo!" Her retort? "We don't answer to 'Yo!'" Anyway, this guy begins ranting at my co-worker – the poor sap who was at the window at the time – because "the cops stopped my daughter for curfew." His beef wasn't exactly that his daughter was stopped, but that the officer brought her home! His thinking is that the police should hold his daughter until she can get in contact with his ex-wife. Of course, he has no idea of her whereabouts, but . . .

When told that the police aren't his personal babysitter, he exploded with a barrage of insults and expletives. I've said it before, and I'll say it again; people should have to get a license to procreate. Congratulations, Mr. Irresponsible Parent, you are truly an idiot.

And for that, you receive . . . a boot to the head.

The Criminal Victim

An hour or so later, a woman and her teenage daughter walk in and say they want to make a police report. (White Trash Alert!) They claim that the daughter was assaulted by another girl while she was walking home. The mother said the police were out there, but never talked to the daughter. After a little investigating, I found the aforementioned report. According to the officer that was at the scene, the mother and her daughter beat up the other teenager! The other teen was transported to the hospital by fire rescue for minor facial injuries. The mother and her "victim" daughter didn't have a scratch on them, but they wanted justice, and they wanted it now!

Congratulations, Miss Criminal Victim, you are an idiot of the highest order.

And for that, you receive . . . a trip out back to be brutally beaten.

Editor's note: If you know an idiot that deserves a beat-down, don't take the law into your own hands; take them to me.

Many Tanks!

I have been called a lot of things (fat, stupid, fat and stupid) but I've never been called ungrateful. I asked for help yesterday with my Navbar sizing problem, and although the problem seems to have corrected itself, I appreciate the efforts of the folks who chimed in with advice. I am a man of my word, so let the Shout-Outs begin.

A4G is first on the list. If my problem returns, I will definitely look into eliminating the Navbar. I thank you for your help, and bow to your Buddhist nature. Check out A4G, folks! You'll thank him later.

Pandy attacks problems like I do, and that's a very scary thought. I tried to fiddle with my template as well, and was pleasantly surprised that my trial-and-effort method didn't start a fire in my mother board. I am proud to be one of only ten links on Pandy's blog. Check her out, but don't tell her she looks fat!

Of course, where would we be without Tyler D.? (If he uses that as a political slogan, I want royalties!) The ever-cryptic voice of teenaged wisdom hadn't even noticed that the Navbar on his site had changed. Ya gotta love him. And ya gotta read him.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

All Cars Stand By . . .

"All cars stand by. All cars stand by. In the SYLG district, assist the officer, police by radio."

I need a little help, kids. Blogger just inserted a "Flag?" button in the top Navbar. It's Blogger's safety net against "potentially questionable content." Basically, it's CYA for them. I have no problem with the concept, since I don't post anything that people would find objectionable. However, if they put up a "Boring And Pointless" button, I'm screwed!

Anyway, my problem is that I'm anal about my blog. I like everything to be neat and orderly. This new button really messes up my sight lines. The Navbar is longer, and my blog now has scroll margins on the bottom of the page. Powerfully uncool. I know about as much about HTML as I do about women, so I am in "short yellow bus" territory here. I looked over the template in an effort to shorten the Navbar, to no avail. (Remember, I'm a big, dumb guy.) I know that someone out there can help me, and I am on my hands and knees begging. Please help me shorten this damned Navbar, and I will give your site (or you, personally, if you don't have one) the Mother of All Shout-Outs! Thanks!

Stupid Questions

If a drunk falls down in an empty bar, does he make a sound?

Do you think Lance Armstrong smiled and waved to Cindy Sheehan when he visited the President yesterday?

Does anyone in America watch Last Call with Carson Daly? And since when does this no-talent clod deserve a talk show?

Is anyone else sick and tired of the Natalee Holloway case? Look, I sympathize. I really do. But until there is actually some reportable news, don't bother me!

Is it really necessary for attractive women to wear skimpy outfits during a baseball game? The woman next to us at last night's Riversharks game was wearing a white tank top, black mini skirt, and heels. I don't even know who won the game!

(West) Bank Robbery

"After that, it's clear sailing for the Jews, right?" – Millhouse (as Moses), The Simpsons

Oy, this story sucks! Today is the second day of forced evictions in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, and many Israelis have got to be feeling flatter than matzo bread. The military has been tearing people from their homes – at gunpoint – in order to implement a "peace agreement" with the Palestinians.

I'm sorry; did I wake up in The Twilight Zone?

Israeli Prime Minister Sharon formulated the brilliant plan (Sarcasm Alert!) as a gesture of goodwill towards the Palestinians. You remember them, the folks who have made it their life's mission to eradicate the Jews from the planet. Sharon's thinking (if you can call it "thinking") is that the pullout will ensure the future safety of Israel.

Right.

Excuse me while I look into my crystal ball. The uprooted Israeli settlers will try to make a new life for themselves, while the Palestinians will overrun their former homes. The Palestinians will stop the violence . . . for about six hours. Nothing they have ever done will convince me that they can keep their word on anything; especially when it pertains to sticking it to the Jews. These are the same people who never gave a rat's ass about this territory until it was given to the state of Israel in 1948. Then, all of the sudden, the Palestinians wanted it. Dealing with the Palestinians is like dealing with an infant.

And sometimes, an infant needs to be spanked.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Zzzzz Zzzzz Top

One of the inherent dangers of working my shift has nothing to do with strung-out heroin addicts, vehicle pursuits, and violent gangs. Sure, they're all great ways to spend your day, but none of them can hold a candle to the Sandman.

Even the best of us occasionally succumb to sleep while on duty (well, not me, but other, weaker officers). Others make it an art form. Take Officer Toad (female version).

Officer Toad is pretty much a waste of a badge on her best days, but on a night like last night she can be downright dangerous. For example, at approximately 1am, she pulled up to HQ while myself and the wagon crew were outside talking. The door of her car swung open, and . . . nothing. The engine was still running, so we figured she was finishing up some paperwork. After about ten minutes, we decided to walk over and see what the problem was.

She was asleep! I kid you not.

Okay, so now we're laughing our asses off, and she wakes up, curses at us, and walks into HQ. Right about now, I'm thinking I've got one of my posts for today. Only it was about to get better. At approximately 4am, Officer Toad gets a radio call to deliver a message. She doesn't respond. Radio tries again. Nothing. A third time. Zilch. Finally, a sergeant comes over the air and asks Toad's status. Radio tells him that her last assignment was in the northern part of the district. I am thinking to myself, "Here we go," and like clockwork, the sergeant says, "Have 16 car check the area for her." Swell.

Now, I am sure I know what happened. She fell asleep again and missed four calls from radio. The laughter has died, because now I have to be babysitter and look on cartons of milk for this moron. I go to the last place she was supposed to be. Nothing. I tell radio that she's not there, and I'm prepared to scour the earth (like Marcellus Wallace from Pulp Fiction).

(Twenty agonizing minutes later . . . )

"18? Are you trying to raise me, radio?"

Um, yeah, butt-head, for about a half hour now!!! She said she was a few blocks from where she was last seen. I was right down the street from her new location, so I fly over there to see if she's okay (and hit her on the head and dump her in a ditch). Of course, she wasn't there, either. But at least she was awake now.

And you think you're co-workers are idiots.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Ice Princess

It's been a while since I posted a picture of a fabulous babe, so I dredged up the archives for this early Wyatt crush, Katarina Witt. For years, my mother thought I was watching figure skating because I liked the sport! Um, no. I am a heterosexual man. As such, I am attracted to gorgeous, curvy Eastern Bloc women.

Katarina fits the bill.

I swear to Lenin, if the Iron Curtain had more hotties like her lying about, communism would still be going strong. Damned Marxists!

Monday, August 15, 2005

Second Place Is Just The First Loser

I'm starting to get an inferiority complex. The bad news is that I didn't win this week's edition of GOP and the City's Weekend Caption Contest. The good news is that I took second place. The bad news is that I lost to that teenage punk, Damian. The good news is that his entry was damn funny.

Check out the entries for yourself. The Man can really bring the funny.

Signs Of The Apocalypse

1. Demi Moore and her no-talent boy-toy Ashton Kutcher are planning to have a baby.

While she and Kutcher, 27, would like to "expand our family" - there have been tabloid reports that Moore was pregnant - there are no plans for marriage. "I feel that we are and that we don't need something formal, so to do so isn't a big deal one way or another," she tells the magazine.

After I read this story (which appears in Harper's Bazaar - or in this case, Bizarre) I threw up in my mouth a little. If there is any justice, someone will post a sign outside their bedroom during their "trials," which reads: "Warning: Shallow Gene Pool - No Lifeguard On Duty."

2. Czechs and Russians bicker over player compensations at 2006 Olympics.

The Czech and Russian hockey federations refused to sign the proposed player transfer agreement between the NHL and the sport's world governing body as Monday's deadline passed, leaving unsettled the NHL's participation in next year's Turin Olympics.

Great. Now who the hell am I gonna root for?

3. Christie Brinkley returns as CoverGirl.

. . . Brinkley is now 51 and she's pitching a line called Advanced Radiance, makeup intended for women 30 and older.

51??? What magazine is she going to shoot the cover for, AARP Weekly?

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Today is my father's birthday. He is 58 years young.

(Pause while I choke back giggles. I mean, 58??? That's even older than Katey! Tee hee hee!)

Anyway, I wanted to wish him a happy, happy, since there's NO CHANCE IN HELL his card/gift will make it to Delaware today.

(It's sent, Dad. You should get it tomorrow. If not, your beef is with the USPS, not me.)

Hopefully, a mention on the most popular blog in, um, my home, will make up for the lateness.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

He's Grrrrr-ating!


I've had alls I can stands, and I can't stands no more. Once again, that jackass Tony Stewart ruined my Sunday by winning today's NASCAR race at Watkins Glen, NY. It is the fifth time he has won in the last seven races! The win, however, was only part of my brain hemorrhage. Stewart also completely dominated the event, leading 83 of the 92 laps, and extending his overall points lead to 105.

I hate him.

The television broadcast on NBC - whose announce team sucks worse than Fox's - was kissing Stewart's ass for most of the four hour debacle, and proclaimed Stewart the new King of the Road Course. (An affront I could not tolerate, since even his detractors know that Jeff Gordon is the best road racer in NASCAR.) Tony Stewart is a terrific driver, I'll give him that, but (as the above cartoon shows) his attitude needs a major adjustment - preferably with a size 12 across his posterior.

My problem with Stewart is that he does whatever it takes to win, which I usually admire, but he's such a wiseass while doing it. For example, during the last two restarts after a caution flag, Stewart obviously hit his breaks as the green flag waved. This caused all of the cars behind him to "check up" by tapping their brakes, which gave Stewart a jump on the rest of the field. The toads at NBC (yeah, I'm looking at you Dallenbach) gave him a free pass and claimed they didn't see anything . . . twice!!! (Psst! Hey guys, it's your job to watch the race!!!) Maybe I'm just bitter that Jeff Gordon will be on the outside looking in on the championship race for the first time in his career, but I'm at the point now that I want anyone but Stewart to win.

God, he's such a smarmy little bastard.

When Did I Move To Iraq?

"Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot." - Eugene Morris Jerome, Biloxi Blues

So, I'm running out to get my father his birthday present - which will never get there in time because he moved to Delaware - when it hits me: it's frakking hot outside!!! I tune the car radio, which is the only instrument in my Saturn that hasn't melted, to the all-news station. After a few minutes, the forecast comes over the air.

"The high today will reach a balmy 96 degrees, but the heat index will make it seem like 110."

I'm sorry, what did he say?

"110."

Now, as a big, fat guy, I sweat when I breathe. This, however, is ridiculous. I still can't mow the lawn - which, in fairness, has all but died - and posting is a chore, since my basement is not air conditioned. The current temp down here is 80; not too bad, but the humidity is brutal! My complicated brain is like a computer - I need cool air to keep it running at full efficiency, lest I post about something as inane as the weather in Philly. (Okay, by "computer" I mean a Commodore Vic 20.)

If this keeps up, I may end up posting about clouds tomorrow. Yikes!

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Eastern Bloc Party


I gotta give a shout out to Pandy for the idea (which, for her, was brought about by boredom), but I couldn't resist the (temporary) change. You'll notice that the months and days of the week are now in my grandparents' native tongue, Slovak.

I am a mutt in the truest sense of the word. My father's side is Irish and English (which is terrific during the IRA disputes), and my mother's side is Austrian, Hungarian, and Czechoslovakian. As a rabid hockey fan, the Czech connection was awesome, since so many pros come from the area. Unfortunately for me, my Uncle Ray informed me that there are bitter differences between the Czechs and the Slovaks - hence the spilt into two separate countries. I was outfitting myself in Czech hockey gear, and my Uncle Joe was telling me that my grandfather was "rolling around in his grave." Thus ended that experiment.

Any whoo, I decided to change the language (for the dates, anyway) just for the sake of change. If it gets really irritating, I'll change back. Thanks in advance for your patience.

The Green Bile, Part 2

"Today is another bad day . . ." - Fortune, Metal Gear Solid 2

Man, I could really use Fortune (pictured, left) now. Take that weapon and put me outta my misery! Let's recap the day I've had so far:

First, I read that idiot savant (minus the "savant") Will Bunch's blog about Gennaro Pellegrini (see below post), and lose it! I'm cursing, yelling (the wife and kids are out for the day), and wondering what's the point of protecting the people of a city that hates cops. Thankfully, Katey talked me down.

On top of that, I did not get promoted this week, as my lieutenant had predicted. I usually brush off promotion rumors, but since my lieutenant has family high in the chain of command, I (like Neo in The Matrix) started to believe. And, as usual for me, things didn't turn out the way I would have liked. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. From now on, I will only post about my promotion a year after I get it!

Today is my first day off - hooray for weekends! - and I can't do a damned thing. It's currently 95 degrees in Philly, and the heat index is approaching 105! That might be a day in the park for Tyler D. and Dr. Phat Tony, but not for a fair-skinned Celtic/Slovak like myself. I can't mow the lawn; I can't ride my bike; I can't do much, save for belting out posts like a Pez dispenser.

One thing I can do is watch NASCAR qualifying from the Watkins Glen road course. Lesson #1 - NASCAR road courses rule! Unfortunately, the pole position currently belongs to Tony Stewart. (Whom I will not bash for the sake of GunnNutt.) Jeff Gordon is currently third.

Well, I think I have punched myself out. Blogging is great therapy. Now, I can go play PS2.

The Green Bile

(Editor's note: If you're stopping by SYLG today for some of my usual comedic stylings, log off now. Today is not about laughs; it's about bile. You've been warned.)

I'm pretty pissed off.

On Wednesday, Katey wrote a moving piece about Philadelphia police officer Gennaro Pellegrini, who was killed in action in Iraq on Tuesday. I didn't post about Gerry because a.) I didn't know him personally, and b.) because Kate did such a fine job. If Officer Pellegrini was half the cop that others say he was, the Department is much worse off today.

Unfortunately at a time like this, the liberal hacks come out of the woodwork with their personal views on the War in Iraq. Philadelphia Daily News "writer" Will Bunch is King of the Hacks. Bunch has a blog which profiled the life and times of Officer Pellegrini. Or so he thought. In actuality, Bunch's piece is a hatchet job of Pellegrini, our troops, and the Bush administration. The post begins with statements attributed to Pellegrini which are critical of the war:

"This isn't a war they're giving us over there - this is policing stuff," he told us.

Of course, since Gerry gave the ultimate sacrifice, no one can determine if he ever actually said these things. And it gets worse from there. Bunch mixes alleged facts with his own personal views (like most in the MSM) to get his point across: that the War in Iraq is immoral and not worth fighting. The "writer" finishes his story in this fashion:

"We pray for his soul and for his family. In the ring, Gennaro Pellegrini was nearly unbeaten. But he knew Iraq was the opponent he couldn't size up, and so this was the bout that he did not want. And now a true contender has been cut down -- for good.

And for what?"

For what? FOR WHAT??? Are you kidding me????? Gennaro Pellegrini died fighting for freedom! I don't expect a "writer" for Philly's most liberal rag to understand.

When my time comes, I hope I can go out as honorably.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Chapp-Hell Show

"Mmm, mmm, bitch!" - Samuel L. Jackson (as played by Dave Chappelle), Chappelle's Show

You know what really sticks in my craw? Celebrities that don't know a good thing when they have it. The obligatory example is Shelly Long leaving "Cheers," but that moronic decision pales in comparison to what Dave Chappelle did to me.

Chappelle's Show was, without a doubt, the funniest program on television. I say "was" because just before the start of the hit comedy's third season, Dave went AWOL. Chappelle fled to South Africa for a "spiritual retreat" in May, despite filming only half of the new season. The cast, fans, and most of all, the bigwigs at Comedy Central have been asking if Dave will ever return - a question that was recently answered by cast member Charlie Murphy:

" 'Chappelle's Show' is over, man. Done," comic Charlie Murphy told TV Guide. "It took me a long time to be able to say those words, but I can say it pretty easy now, because it's the truth."

It took a while for me to post about this, primarily because I was still clinging to the hope that my favorite show would return. I am the proud owner of seasons one and two on DVD, and have been on board since the premiere. I don't understand Dave's decision, but I can't bring myself to hate him for it. I feel bad for the cast and crew - not to mention Comedy Central - but I also (selfishly) feel bad for myself. I hate to see such a terrific program end on such a sour note. I'll miss Chappelle's Show terribly.

Revenge Of The Nerds

I make no bones about the fact that I'm a tremendous nerd. Actually, I revel in it. In that vein, I have concocted a ten question test to learn a little about my readership's nerd quotient (N.Q.). I realize that you guys and gals can look it up on the 'net, but that in and of itself is nerdy. The first one with ten correct answers will receive glowing praise. Good luck!

1. What does the "J" in Homer J. Simpson stand for?

2. Name the hero in the Metal Gear Solid video game series.

3. Who is The Tick's sidekick, and what is his superhero costume?

4. Name a battlestar (besides Galactica) from "Battlestar Galactica."

5. Name the evil bouncing smiley face from the arcade hit "Berserk."

6. What does Han Solo say to the Cantina bartender after blasting Greedo?

7. Name the original villain from the Japanese anime cartoon "Star Blazers."

8. Name two Spider-man villains, excluding The Green Goblin and Doctor Octopus.

9. Name the baseball team Bugs Bunny single-handedly defeated in the Looney Tunes classic.

10. What former "Laverne & Shirley" co-star played Perry White in an episode of "Smallville?"

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Burn In Hell!

It's about God-damn time:

COLUMBUS, Ohio - A fugitive inmate and his wife, wanted in a brazen courthouse escape and shooting in Tennessee, were captured Wednesday night at an Ohio motel after a tip from a cab driver who had dropped them off, authorities said. George Hyatte and Jennifer Forsyth Hyatte were in a room at an America's Best Value Inn in Columbus and were arrested without a struggle, said Mark Gwyn, director of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.

"We have found weapons," he said. "We don't know if it's the murder weapon, but we're processing those as we speak."

On Tuesday, authorities say Jennifer Hyatte, 31, ambushed two guards as they were leading her 34-year-old husband from a courthouse hearing in Kingston, Tenn., about 300 miles south of Columbus. Guard Wayne "Cotton" Morgan was fatally shot in the escape.

I am very disappointed that The CUG let these pieces of garbage be captured before he could exercise his Second Amendment rights against them. CUG, you are now in "Time Out!"

Itchy And Scratchy

"Indy, why does the floor move?" - Sallah, Raiders of the Lost Ark

I am pretty lucky. Even though I'm constantly bitching about work, I am assigned to a fairly slow district. Not much happens here, and that's the way I like it. I spent six years in "The Badlands," chasing drug dealers and guarding homicide scenes. I deserve the break. However, every once in a while I get a little taste of hell in my own backyard.

Last night I received a radio call for "Someone Breaking In" at the local projects. I arrive with my backup - yeah, I was surprised, too - and we were met by a woman and her children outside the apartment. The woman tells us that she thinks someone is inside, and asked if we could check the residence. Sure, I say to myself, what's the worst that can happen?

And then, we opened the front door.

Like Indiana Jones and Sallah, what we saw shocked and awed us - the floor was moving! A quick flick of the flashlight told us all we needed to know; the apartment was overrun with cockroaches. Now, we can't exactly leave the room and tell the owner that there's no way in hell we're going through her disgusting abode, so we suck it up and do our job. We cleared the apartment in record time, and got the hell outta Dodge. And for the rest of the night I scratched like crazy.

So, who wants some breakfast?

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

People Suck

"I hate the people who love me. And they hate me." - Bender, Futurama

I'm working my car this morning when I get a call for a burglar alarm in the industrial park. Upon arrival, I notice that there is a blackout blanketing about two square miles. Swell. I notify radio and ask them to get PECO (the local electricity monopoly) on the horn. It's about 0530 and rush hour is just beginning.

The sun pops up and now I'm trying to deal with traffic control at two intersections whose lights are kaput. We're terribly shorthanded, so I decide to take a post at the more dangerous intersection. My presence goes unnoticed - just like in the bedroom - and people are flying by in all directions. This isn't working, so I took up a position further down the arterial road in an attempt to divert the vehicles from the nasty cluster-frak ahead. I pull into the oncoming lane and activate my dome lights.

And then, the idiots come out of the woodwork.

Now, one would think that when a marked police car was blocking the road, people would take the detour which is right next to said officer. Not so, grasshopper. Literally one out of three vehicles ignored the turn-off and pulled up to my cruiser. Here's a sample of actual conversations I had today:

Motorist: "Officer, can I get by?"
Me: "No. The lights are out at the intersection."
Motorist: "So . . . I can't get by?"

Motorist: "Hey, why are you blocking the street? Is something going on up there?"
Me: "Nah, I just wanted to ruin people's day."

Motorist: (Points past my car and shrugs his shoulders.)
Me: "Sorry, you can't get by."
Motorist: "Well, where am I supposed to go?"
Me: "Take the open road right next to you."
Motorist: "Will it take me back to the main road."
Me: "Um . . . yeah!"
Motorist: "'Cause I need to get back to the main road."
Me: (Head explodes.)

(I loved this one!)
Motorist: "Officer, why are you blocking the street? Did something happen?"
Me: "Well sir, why else would I be sitting here in the middle of the road?"
Motorist: "How the hell should I know?!!"

Comedy like this just writes itself.

Excedrin Headache #99

God, I think I'm gonna be sick . . .

LOS ANGELES - Two jurors who acquitted Michael Jackson of child molestation charges now say they think the pop star was guilty - and they are penning tell-all books about the jury's deliberations, the Daily News has learned. (Hat Tip - The New York Daily News.)

Am I the only person in America that wants to beat these "celebrity jurors" about the head with a Sunday newspaper - ads and all? And why are we giving book deals to the ones who royally frakked up? From the O.J. imbeciles to the Jacko morons, these people should be shunned, not rewarded. (Why don't we shun people anymore?) Look, if the jury acquitted Jackson because of a lack of evidence (doubtful) or the questionable credibility of the plaintiff's family (likely), that's fine. But, don't you dare come out publicly and tell the world only what it wants to hear.

To quote Robert DeNiro in Cop Land, "You blew it!" To acquit Jacko even when you thought he was guilty makes you people cowards. No one wants to hear your story. Instead, let me lend you a copy of Twelve Angry Men. Maybe you'll learn something.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

"This Is My Number Two Man . . . "

Yeah! Yeah!! Get Some!!! I took second place in GOP and the City's Weekend Caption Contest. Unfortunately, the fabulous cash prize went to Rodney Dill (who deserved it, by the way), but the prestige more than compensates for missing out on the scratch.

Jumping On The Band Wagon

Monday night was my first day back at work, and, I asked my partner to check my assignment for the tour. It was a good news, bad news situation. The bad news was that I was scheduled to work the wagon . . . again. The good news is that it was a very busy night of scumbags and lunatics, which makes for good blogging. So please, sit back, grab a sandwich, pop open a beer, and revel in the misery that has become my work life.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Last week, I did the sergeants a huge favor and worked the entire week in the operations room. (The usual guy was at training.) The subject of the wagon "wheel" - the list of how many times each officer worked it - came up, and my sergeant noted that I haven't worked the wagon as much as the other officers. I calmly explained that I spend half of my week in the O.R., so naturally, I would work it less than a guy who works the street every day. Of course, since I am a Grade A wiseass, I added that I should get a break from the wagon this week, since I did the bosses a "solid."

Yesterday, Doris e-mails me and says that I am on the wagon my first day back (last night). She overheard another sergeant say that my sergeant put our names in the book with asterisks next to them! So, basically, after doing my sergeant a favor, he rushed to put my name next on the list the second I left on my last day. Sneaky, huh? Any hoo, Gerry and I jumped in the wagon and waited for the maelstrom. It didn't take long:

12:00-12:30am - Fight on the highway. We arrive at the Electronics Boutique to find a large group of teenagers outside the store. Little did I know that the release of Madden 2006 was scheduled for midnight, so we watched the nerds in their natural habitat. Unfortunately, I didn't have my Visa card, or I would have been in line, too.

12:39-3:00am - Sidebar. The biggest toad in the squad goes to the City Garage for "equipment." He never specifies what's wrong with his car, but he stays out of service for two and a half hours!!! Meanwhile, the rest of us are answering 911 calls. Thanks, jerk!

2:00-2:45am - Domestic. We arrive to find a couple arguing in the parking lot. The woman is screaming at the man (her dirtball boyfriend) to leave her alone. The man is refusing to let the woman get into her car. We approach the happy couple and ask how we can help. At this point, the man (who is an African-American) calls us "crackers," "niggers" (sorry, I hate that word, but it's what he said), and "pigs." All in succession! He tells us to copulate with ourselves and starts advancing towards us with his fists up.

(Sidebar - Now, Doris will be the first to tell you that I am the short-tempered, violent one, but amazingly, Gerry loses it this time. He pushed the man away from him and pulled out his O.C. spray. He warns the man that if he doesn't back off, he's gonna spend the night in the hospital. I am amazed, since I never saw Gerry lose it like that. It was cool!)

I'm not sure what changed the man's mind, the O.C. or the look on Gerry's face, but he folded faster than Superman on laundry day. As he left the area, he gave us a few more N-words, and threatened to "sue all you crackers," but that was all.

5:15-6:45am - Hospital Case, 302. As if the day wasn't pleasant enough, our last call was to transfer a lunatic to Friends Psychiatric Hospital. We were greeted by the woman/nutcase, who for some reason was wandering around the E.R. wearing a sheet as a toga. It got worse. When she saw us laughing - yeah, I know it's wrong, but she was damn funny - she put the sheet over her head and said she was Casper the Friendly Ghost. Here she is flapping her arms and saying "boo" to the other patients, while I am trying to keep a straight face. After a half hour of trying to coax her into the wagon, we'd had enough. Grabbing her by the arm/toga, we drug her out of the hospital, literally kicking and screaming; but it wasn't all bad - she serenaded us with show tunes for the entire five mile trip!

So, how was your day at work?

Crazy Eights

I know I mentioned it yesterday, but today is my 8th wedding anniversary. And if I didn't mention it again today, I'd be sleeping on the couch. Eight years. As Steve said yesterday, that's a long time in this day and age. Usually this is where most guys either get all mushy or start the wife jokes. I'll probably do the former.

Mrs. Earp (pictured here in '94 with an unidentified blogger - I guarantee this will be the last picture I post of myself . . . ever!) is really a gem. Before we met, I was a goofy-looking track nerd who couldn't land a date in a brothel. Imagine my surprise when she agreed to see me: "Whoo hoo! I hit the jackpot!!" And we've been going strong since 1992.

Of course, being a man (or reasonable facsimile), I don't tell her how much she means to me often enough. So, I figured I could highlight some of her finer points here:
  • She puts up with all of my unending crap.
  • She loves me unconditionally, even though I'm sometimes not that lovable.
  • She still thinks I'm attractive, even though I'm fat and troll-like in appearance.
  • She sacrificed her teaching career to be a stay-at-home mom.

Oh, and did I mention I she is way outta my league? Good.

Happy Anniversary, L!

Touchdown!

Okay, everyone can breathe now. Discovery has landed safely in California this morning, sticking it to the NASA nay-sayers. In your face, gravity!

Monday, August 08, 2005

Stupid Questions


(Mrs. Earp (right) with her friend Maryanne in uber-hot mode.)

I get this one all the time: Who in their right mind would marry a loser like me? (See above.) This pic is a couple years old - and she's gonna murder me for posting it - but she still looks the same (sans the "high hair").

Are the Camden Riversharks losing on purpose? My friend Bill and I have a partial season ticket plan, and the Sharks haven't won when we have been in attendance in over a month!

Why is bowling so difficult? The missus and I went out on a double date last night and wound up in the lanes. I bowled the high game - a 128. (Which, for the bowling illiterate, sucks!)

Does anyone have any suggestions for an anniversary gift for Mrs. Earp? Our eight-year anniversary is tomorrow, and so far, I've got zip. (All ideas are welcome, but remember, I'm shopping on a cop's salary.)

Where did all my readers go? It's been a slow four days, with SYLG averaging only 30-40 hits a day. If I'm boring everyone, please let me know!

Godspeed, Discovery!

Obviously, I'm making a joke here (with a little help from Dribbleglass), but by the time I wake up later today, the space shuttle will be back on Mother Earth. I just hope to God that they make it home safely.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Guess Who Won Today's Race?

Have I mentioned that I hate Tony Stewart's guts?

Any Re-Gretz?

The Phoenix Coyotes are expected to announce that Hall of Famer Wayne Gretzky will be their new head coach. Great, now I have to root for the Coyotes, too. Gretzky has been my idol since I was ten years old. I watched him in Edmonton, Los Angeles, St. Louis and New York, and was lucky enough to see him play in person against the Flyers. When I played lacrosse in college, I wore #99. He's my all-time favorite athlete.

Conventional thinking is that "The Great One" was the best player in the history of the NHL. I agree. That being said, Wayne has never been a coach at any level. Making the jump from partial owner to head coach of a struggling hockey club is not going to be easy. The Coyotes have talent - Shane Doan is a terrific player - and they're a young squad. I just hope Gretz can guide them in the right direction.

I'll be watching.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

The "Do Not Mock" List

In yesterday's comments (People I Hate), Kate had the unmitigated gall to rip Eric Lindros. To quote Queen Elizabeth: "We are not amused." This is not the first time someone was tap dancing on a landmine around here. So, as a public service announcement, here are a few people, places, and things that, if mocked, will "bring down the thunder." Pay attention, kiddies.

1. Any television series in my sidebar. I watch "24," Battlestar Galactica," Reno 911!," and "Smallville" religiously. Feel free to mock me because I am obviously a nerd/36-year old virgin, but don't rip my shows!

2. The Denver Broncos. Why in the hell would a kid from Philly root for a football team halfway across the continent? Because my mom made me, that's why. Super Bowl XII, 1978. The Broncos are playing the Dallas Cowboys. For some reason, I was a 9-year old Cowboys fan in Philly (which is actually punishable by guillotine). My mother, a rabid Eagles fan, told me that no son of hers would root for Dallas, so she made me cheer for the Broncs that January eve. Of course, Denver lost the game (and three more Super Bowls after that) 27-10. I've been a fan ever since.

3. NASCAR. I know, I know. I call Dr. Phat Tony a redneck all the time, but I would never mock stock car racing! I'm still not sure why I am such a fan (being a yankee and all), but I love it all the same. My friends and I have been to Pocono, Dover, and Daytona for races - Daytona was excellent, since it was the first race there after Dale Earnhardt died. His son, Dale, Jr. won the event! - and I hope to someday see Talladega and Indianapolis. There's something to be said about race fans, though. Unlike most sporting events (read: Eagles games), I have never seen a fight at a NASCAR race. Never. People take a lot of heat from fans of other drivers - I had a 12-year old girl tell me Jeff Gordon "sucks" - but it's all in good fun. It's definitely a family friendly event.

4. Gary Oldman. In my opinion, Oldman is the most versatile actor in the world today. Keep your Johnny Depp, Gary's got the goods. Sure, he is a freak, but he's a talented freak. In his 23 year career, Oldman has played punk legend Sid Vicious, Shakespeare's Rosencrantz, Lee Harvey Oswald, Dracula, Beethoven, Pontius Pilate, and Batman's Commissioner Gordon. All terrific roles, but for my money, Oldman's at his best as Stansfield in "The Professional." Great scene: After shooting a man six times in the back, Oldman reloads! His partner asks what he's doing (since the man is obviously dead) and Oldman replies, "But he ruined my suit."










Gary Oldman: Do not mock!

Stop Teasing Me, Already!

So, I'm working inside last night - coding reports and other nonsense – and my lieutenant comes in. He looks at me and tells the entire operations room the latest rumor . . .

The police commissioner is promoting detectives at the end of next week.

Uh-huh. If I had a promotion for every time I heard I was going to be promoted, I'd be a captain by now. I voiced my disbelief to the lieutenant – I think I actually said, "Bulls**t" – and went back to my computer screen. He told me that his source is pretty well connected, but I'll believe it when I see it. I know you're all sick of hearing it, but I am currently 18th on the list. The odds are good that I will be promoted in the first batch.

Of course, we're talking about me here, so the city will probably only make seventeen detectives; thus contributing to my already fragile psyche. To be honest, I am really scared that I will make detective, because I don't know if I can handle the job. (Remember, I'm a big, dumb guy.) Not that it's gonna matter . . . it won't happen.

Friday, August 05, 2005

People I Hate

Last night at work really sucked. Two (out of four) of our computers were down, our main printer was down, and we were terribly short of personnel. Suffice to say, I'm in a mood this morning. And when I'm in a mood, I break out the old mainstay, People I Hate. Enjoy!

Rob Schneider

Can anyone explain to me why this man is famous? Schneider, the brutally unfunny former SNLer, keeps getting work despite his obvious lack of talent. (He's yet another person suffering from Jennifer Lopez Syndrome.) I don't know about you, but I am dying to see Deuce Bigalow, European Gigolo. Sarcasm Alert! Is there really a demand for a Deuce sequel? What's next, The Waterboy II? Corky Romano Returns?? It's Pat: Androgynous Revenge??? If I ever uncover the genie in a lamp, my first wish will be to see Schneider and Lorne Michaels beaten about the head with their lame movie scripts.

Terrell Owens

Okay, T.O. decides that he doesn't want to honor his contract. That's cool. It's not like this isn't the first time a spoiled, pampered athlete cried when he didn't get his way. Then, Owens' scumbag shyster agent, Drew Rosenhaus tells the world that T. O. can't feed his family on $3 million a year. I can dig it. Lord knows I would have trouble surviving on that kind of scratch. What I can not and will not tolerate is all this nonsense coupled with a freak injury. Yep, a mere week into training camp, the Princess hurt his puny little groin. Hey, T.O., maybe next time you want to dishonor your contract, be sure to stretch first. Ass!

Philadelphia Mayor John Street

Sorry, that one is just on general principle.

Stupid Questions

Why is the interior of my car's windshield so difficult to clean?

Should I be worried that the dreadnaught Atkins Corporation filed for Chapter 11?

Is anyone surprised that The World's Largest Lawn Sale stretches from Alabama to Kentucky? That's four hundred miles of redneck heirlooms, folks.

Why do film adaptations of classic television shows always suck? I mean, Bewitched? The Dukes of Hazzard?? Are people really going to spend their money on these atrocities?

I can't resist an excuse to post a picture of a fabulous babe, so Faith Hill, why are you so damned attractive?

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Justifiable Homicide?

PANAMA CITY, Fla. (AP) A man who got angry with his wife because she wanted to cuddle after sex when what he really wanted to do was watch sports on television was sentenced to death for killing her with a claw hammer. Christopher Offord, 30, was sentenced Wednesday by Circuit Judge Dedee Costello, who said the brutality of the crime outweighed any mental problems Offord may have had.

The defendant struck his wife approximately 70 individual blows after spending a happy interlude with her,” the judge said. “Her desire to cuddle after sex does not justify the extremely violent, brutal response of the defendant.”

Offord pleaded guilty to first-degree murder in the 2004 slaying of Dana Noser, 40, at his apartment. He confessed to a bartender at a sports bar before his arrest. He told investigators that his wife had been nagging him to come back to bed. Offord did not speak in court but said in a jailhouse interview in June: “I figured I killed her so I deserve to die.”

Too many factors are not represented in this article. I mean, was it just sports, or was it the playoffs? If the only thing on the tube was curling, then maybe the guy could have sucked it up and cuddled for a few moments. But, if it were the NFL playoffs, maybe sugar pie should have understood. Okay, striking her seventy times with a claw hammer may seem excessive, but . . .

The More You Know . . .

As a popular, multi-talented Blogger, I am always getting hounded for personal information from my adoring fans. Usually, I brush off their requests, kick them to the curb, and notify my posse (aka CUG, Damian, and Tyler D). But not today. Today I will open up and give the public another scary glimpse into my professional life. Enter if you dare.

One of the funniest jobs I ever handled involved a drunk, a bridge, and a silver bullet. I'll write that one up soon enough.

Every Philadelphia police officer has to qualify annually with their service weapon. Here are my career pistol range scores: 94, 98, 94, 97, 98, 95, 94, 99, 100, and 98. Not bad, but SWAT won't be calling me anytime soon.

Speaking of the pistol range, during recruit training, my line instructor's nickname for me was, in fact, "Wyatt Earp." He said it was because I was a quick draw. Sadly, some of my high school girlfriends said the same thing. (Insert rim shot here.)

The first homicide I encountered occurred on my fourth day on the street. It happened at Rosehill and Cambria Streets, and the victim was shot in the chest. He went into cardiac arrest as I was pulling him out of his vehicle. I'll never forget his face as long as I live.

I never shot at anyone, but I came very close once. I responded to a call for a rape in progress in the Juniata section of the city. It was about four in the morning. My backup and I arrived at the same time, and saw a man pressed against a woman in an alleyway. The woman was whimpering. We drew our pistols and commanded the man to step back. He wouldn't. We told him again, and he moved one of his hands towards his pocket. I realized that I was taking the slack out of my trigger, and was deciding if I would have to fire. My backup told the man to stop moving, or we would stop him. The next instant, the woman spoke up. She said that the man was her boyfriend, and they were "having a spat." The man then showed us his hands, and stepped away. I relaxed, holstered, and looked for a change of underwear.

How Swede It Is!

Doesn't it just figure? After blasting Flyers GM Bobby Clarke yesterday, he runs out and makes the biggest free agent acquisition in recent NHL history. Make me look like a fool, will ya? Now I really hate him.

I do not, however, hate Peter Forsberg. The talented Swede is pound-for-pound the best player in the league. And come October, he'll be wearing the orange and black. Joy-gasm! The Flyers signed the fabulous forward to a two-year deal, which instantly propels the team into respectability. (Someone check on Katey, who must have passed out from the news.) Forsberg does it all. He's incredibly fast, has tremendous size, and is a dangerous scoring threat . . . as long as he remains healthy.

And, that, dear readers, is the (Vicks Vap-O) rub. Lately, Forsberg has spent more time in the doctor's office than Christina Aguilera. Of course, the symptoms aren't the same – unless you can now get crabs by playing hockey – but it is worrisome nonetheless. The upside certainly outweighs any downside, and if Forsberg just plays fifty out of eighty-two games, Clarke will look like a genius.

And yours truly will look like a dope.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Top Ten List

Top Ten Nice Things About Flyers GM Bobby Clarke

10. For every terrible personnel decision, he donates one cheesesteak to Rosie O'Donnell.
9. When he kicks dogs, he always uses his weaker foot.
8. He still reminds his players that winning the Stanley Cup is possible . . . if they travel back in time thirty years.
7. Before he screws the fans, he always asks permission first.
6. When giving sick children rides on the zamboni, he leaves sales tax off the bill.
5. When giving interviews, he always tells reporters to "F*** off!" instead of actually saying the swear word.
4. During the Flyers' Wives Fight for Lives Carnival, he keeps himself to a two-grope minimum.
3. Years after running him out of town, Bobby still calls Eric Lindros on his birthday . . . and tells him he sucks.
2. He recycles. (Even though it's only washed-up players like Chris Therien.)

And the number one nice thing about Bobby Clarke . . .

1. He exhales carbon dioxide, which is beneficial to plant life.

Fahd-er Of The Country

With Monday's passing of Saudi Arabia's King Fahd, I got to thinking: why go through the hassle of a messy succession, when ol' Wyatt can take over . . . and rule with an iron fist? My plan is simple: roll into the kingdom atop an M-1 Abrams, surrounded by many beautiful ladies, and assume the throne in a bloodless (yet sexy) coup.

Of course, as the Saudis' new and benevolent king, one should expect a few changes. The first of these would be a close circle of advisors, ready at my beck and call. I mean, a big dumb guy like me can't possibly make every decision that affects the Kingdom, right? Certainly, the nation's safety is a top priority, and I desire a Secretary of Defense that reflects my rationality and genuine concern for others. Russell Crowe should fit the bill. Saudi Arabia is a very wealthy kingdom, and I require a Secretary of the Treasury that knows a thing or two about gold. Allow me to introduce my Sultan of Bling Bling, Snoop Dogg. Finally, what's the point of being king if you don't have a harem? I am sure my new-found wealth and power could lure some high caliber broads. Mistresses Biel, Hayek, and Krysiuk, you are being paged.

Let's face it; the Muslim thing just isn't working. Although I don't think the peasants are ready for Americanization, they may be ready for the former Eastern Bloc. Step one in my transition from the Dark Ages will be name changes. From now on, all women's names will be pronounced in their Russian form. Hear that, Katey? From this day forth, you are Yekaterina!

Lastly, the kingdom needs some flair. Who wouldn't want to visit a country whose national sport is women's volleyball? We might as well make use of all the sand. The new national beverage? Guinness Stout. My people have been teetotalers for too long. National pastime? Sticking it to the man!

Saudi Arabia is a sand-covered cesspool, but that doesn't mean it can't be fun. Hail to the king!