Babes with guns. God bless America!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
For Vinnie
Yesterday's Erin Gray comment was very moving. And we all know I eagerly help out my friends, so . . . enjoy!
Babes with guns. God bless America!
Babes with guns. God bless America!
A Blogs4Bauer Contest
As about three of you know, I also exercise my *cough* talent over at Blogs4Bauer. And, since the good folks at Fox probably won't run the next season until, oh, June, it's rather difficult to keep the B4B fans interested.
Thankfully, The Man has your answer.
Introducing, the Bauer2006 Bumper Sticker Contest!
You design a bumper sticker for Jack's CT/NY Senate run - it's easy in Photoshop - and send it to B4B. The deadline is Friday, September 8th, and we'll hold a poll to decide the winner. Here's the good part: the winner's bumper sticker will be placed on CafePress for sale, and all proceeds will go to AnySoldier, Inc.
So, get crackin' and submit an entry!
Thankfully, The Man has your answer.
Introducing, the Bauer2006 Bumper Sticker Contest!
You design a bumper sticker for Jack's CT/NY Senate run - it's easy in Photoshop - and send it to B4B. The deadline is Friday, September 8th, and we'll hold a poll to decide the winner. Here's the good part: the winner's bumper sticker will be placed on CafePress for sale, and all proceeds will go to AnySoldier, Inc.
So, get crackin' and submit an entry!
Free At Last, Free At Last!!!
Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!!!
It is very difficult to post today, since I keep trying to make out with my new Verizon DSL modem. Try sticking your tongue into one of those things! Any hoo, the DSL is up and running, and after I figure out my new e-mail system, I should be back to posting borderline funny stuff again.
I'm sorry, I just can't stop looking longingly into the modem's eyes.
It is very difficult to post today, since I keep trying to make out with my new Verizon DSL modem. Try sticking your tongue into one of those things! Any hoo, the DSL is up and running, and after I figure out my new e-mail system, I should be back to posting borderline funny stuff again.
I'm sorry, I just can't stop looking longingly into the modem's eyes.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
The Whole System Is Outta Order!
"Your Honor, I ask you, is this justice?" - Al Capone, The Untouchables
The greatest miscarriage of justice since the O.J. Simpson trial occurred yesterday in my fair city. And I had the extreme misfortune to be present for the debacle. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
In April 2005, I was working a patrol car in the city's Northeast section, when we get a call for a Person With A Weapon on the 9000 block of Revere Street. When I arrived on the scene, a female officer was talking to the victim, who was bleeding from the head like a stuck pig. Her blonde hair was matted down in streaks of deep red, belying her youthful face. The victim was hysterical, but claimed her husband came home drunk, and hit her in the back of the head with a dumbbell. The husband fled the scene when the police were called.
My partner and I were checking the scene when a white vehicle drove by the street. The victim screamed, "That's him!," and we jumped in our cars to give chase. When we stopped the husband, the female officer said over the radio, "Be advised, the offender is a Philadelphia Police Detective." Swell. We asked the offender to step out of the car, and he did, while talking on his cellphone. When we asked him to get off the phone, he replied with disdain, "I'm talking to my FOP rep." My immediate reaction: asshole.
A supervisor was called to the scene, and the offender was arrested. The victim suffered a severe laceration to the back of her scalp, and was stitched up at the local hospital.
A few months later, we get a court notice for the trial. The defense, hoping witnesses and the victim will eventually refuse to show, asked for a continuance. Everyone showed for the next listing. We had the trial yesterday, eight continuances and sixteen months after the incident! The judge in the case was the "honorable" Judge Meehan. You'll understand the sarcasm shortly.
The victim, the witness, the defendant, the defendant's daughter, and several "character witnesses" for the defendant had their say in court. Because guys who work with this clown absolutely know what he does away from work, right? The defendant plead not guilty at the start, and the defense first threw out a self-defense argument. This was laughable because the defendant, a ten-year veteran of the military and a ten-year veteran of the force, was easily twice the size of his waif-like wife. When that didn't work, the defense tried to convince the judge that during the argument, the defendant pushed the victim, causing her to fall onto an unknown solid object. Right.
I figured it was a home run, since the defense just admitted simple assault. Regardless of intent, anyone whose actions cause bodily injury to another is guilty of the offense of simple assault. Game, set, and match, right? Closing arguments came and went, while Judge Meehan listened from on high. This was not a jury trial; the judge would made the ruling.
Immediately after the prosecution finished his closing, Judge Meehan ordered the defendant to stand. Before the defendant was out of his chair, the judge stated, "I find you not guilty of all charges."
Silence.
I wanted to shout, "He admitted he assaulted her! How can you say 'not guilty' with a straight face? Who bought your ruling?"
In my humble opinion, the fix was in. Judge Meehan didn't even make it look believable. He didn't adjourn to his chambers to mull the case over. He didn't even pause before his ruling. In my opinion, he didn't want to ruin the life a former detective (who has a long history of alleged domestic violence) , whose family has money and political clout, even though his "ruling" ruined the life of the victim. The detective had even a passing relationship with Meehan, if only by virtue of his position in the department. After a while, detectives get to know everyone in the court system. Meehan was no different.
After the ruling, the victim came up to me and said, "What do I do now? He got away with it again. You'll find me dead in Pennypack Park someday, and he'll walk on that, too." What do you say to something like that? The only words I could find were, "I'm sorry." The Philadelphia Judicial System victimized this woman twice in this case, and countless times previously. And now, she has to live the rest of her life in fear.
Oh, and the defendant? Since he was found not guilty, he can now apply for reinstatement to the PPD. He will almost surely get it . . . as well as all of his back pay. Despicable.
The greatest miscarriage of justice since the O.J. Simpson trial occurred yesterday in my fair city. And I had the extreme misfortune to be present for the debacle. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
In April 2005, I was working a patrol car in the city's Northeast section, when we get a call for a Person With A Weapon on the 9000 block of Revere Street. When I arrived on the scene, a female officer was talking to the victim, who was bleeding from the head like a stuck pig. Her blonde hair was matted down in streaks of deep red, belying her youthful face. The victim was hysterical, but claimed her husband came home drunk, and hit her in the back of the head with a dumbbell. The husband fled the scene when the police were called.
My partner and I were checking the scene when a white vehicle drove by the street. The victim screamed, "That's him!," and we jumped in our cars to give chase. When we stopped the husband, the female officer said over the radio, "Be advised, the offender is a Philadelphia Police Detective." Swell. We asked the offender to step out of the car, and he did, while talking on his cellphone. When we asked him to get off the phone, he replied with disdain, "I'm talking to my FOP rep." My immediate reaction: asshole.
A supervisor was called to the scene, and the offender was arrested. The victim suffered a severe laceration to the back of her scalp, and was stitched up at the local hospital.
A few months later, we get a court notice for the trial. The defense, hoping witnesses and the victim will eventually refuse to show, asked for a continuance. Everyone showed for the next listing. We had the trial yesterday, eight continuances and sixteen months after the incident! The judge in the case was the "honorable" Judge Meehan. You'll understand the sarcasm shortly.
The victim, the witness, the defendant, the defendant's daughter, and several "character witnesses" for the defendant had their say in court. Because guys who work with this clown absolutely know what he does away from work, right? The defendant plead not guilty at the start, and the defense first threw out a self-defense argument. This was laughable because the defendant, a ten-year veteran of the military and a ten-year veteran of the force, was easily twice the size of his waif-like wife. When that didn't work, the defense tried to convince the judge that during the argument, the defendant pushed the victim, causing her to fall onto an unknown solid object. Right.
I figured it was a home run, since the defense just admitted simple assault. Regardless of intent, anyone whose actions cause bodily injury to another is guilty of the offense of simple assault. Game, set, and match, right? Closing arguments came and went, while Judge Meehan listened from on high. This was not a jury trial; the judge would made the ruling.
Immediately after the prosecution finished his closing, Judge Meehan ordered the defendant to stand. Before the defendant was out of his chair, the judge stated, "I find you not guilty of all charges."
Silence.
I wanted to shout, "He admitted he assaulted her! How can you say 'not guilty' with a straight face? Who bought your ruling?"
In my humble opinion, the fix was in. Judge Meehan didn't even make it look believable. He didn't adjourn to his chambers to mull the case over. He didn't even pause before his ruling. In my opinion, he didn't want to ruin the life a former detective (who has a long history of alleged domestic violence) , whose family has money and political clout, even though his "ruling" ruined the life of the victim. The detective had even a passing relationship with Meehan, if only by virtue of his position in the department. After a while, detectives get to know everyone in the court system. Meehan was no different.
After the ruling, the victim came up to me and said, "What do I do now? He got away with it again. You'll find me dead in Pennypack Park someday, and he'll walk on that, too." What do you say to something like that? The only words I could find were, "I'm sorry." The Philadelphia Judicial System victimized this woman twice in this case, and countless times previously. And now, she has to live the rest of her life in fear.
Oh, and the defendant? Since he was found not guilty, he can now apply for reinstatement to the PPD. He will almost surely get it . . . as well as all of his back pay. Despicable.
Now, I've REALLY Had It!!!
I just spent 45 minutes writing about the miscarriage of justice I experienced yesterday. Then, good ole Blogger shut down, and erased everything. FRAK!!!
As if I wasn't pissed off enough already.
In less enraging news, Verizon sent out my modem yesterday, and I have a UPS tracking number to prove it. Tonight is my last night for the tour, so I should slightly less pissed off tomorrow. Slightly.
I'm gonna try and re-write the entire lost post, but if you don't see it, I shot my computer.
FRAKKERS!!!
As if I wasn't pissed off enough already.
In less enraging news, Verizon sent out my modem yesterday, and I have a UPS tracking number to prove it. Tonight is my last night for the tour, so I should slightly less pissed off tomorrow. Slightly.
I'm gonna try and re-write the entire lost post, but if you don't see it, I shot my computer.
FRAKKERS!!!
Monday, August 28, 2006
Urge To Kill . . . Rising!
Okay, despite the fact that it's not 2am on the East Coast, I have been trying to post since 11:30pm. Thus, consider this my "Monday Post."
I've had it.
The last two days have been a tumult of anger and despair. To be honest, blogging has been situated slightly ahead of my weekly back shaving, but a tad behind my sock arranging. I really like arranging my socks. Although I'll blog about each topic in detail a.s.a.p., here's a taste of what has happened in the last 48 hours:
* An idiot uniformed lieutenant in my division has been using my squad as his personal errand boy. Excuse me, jackass, but slavery ended in 1865.
* I am still chained to dial-up. Why? Because the bitch from Verizon ignored my request that she send me a modem. After three modem-less days, we called back, and they had no record of my complaint/order. Swell.
* The only court case I took personally ended on Monday - I was in court from 8am to 3pm, then I went straight to work (thus, no posting) - and it was not a good outcome.
* And, last but not least, my old district has a new captain. She's a beyotch, and has hand-picked her administrative staff. There's not a brain cell in the bunch.
I've had it.
The last two days have been a tumult of anger and despair. To be honest, blogging has been situated slightly ahead of my weekly back shaving, but a tad behind my sock arranging. I really like arranging my socks. Although I'll blog about each topic in detail a.s.a.p., here's a taste of what has happened in the last 48 hours:
* An idiot uniformed lieutenant in my division has been using my squad as his personal errand boy. Excuse me, jackass, but slavery ended in 1865.
* I am still chained to dial-up. Why? Because the bitch from Verizon ignored my request that she send me a modem. After three modem-less days, we called back, and they had no record of my complaint/order. Swell.
* The only court case I took personally ended on Monday - I was in court from 8am to 3pm, then I went straight to work (thus, no posting) - and it was not a good outcome.
* And, last but not least, my old district has a new captain. She's a beyotch, and has hand-picked her administrative staff. There's not a brain cell in the bunch.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Stupid Women's Sports Questions
Is Christie Kerr available for private golf lessons?
Isn't Ana Ivanovic too hot to be a pro tennis player?
Whatever happened to Tanith Belbin?
Seasoned With Basil
Good news, everyone! Basil’s Interview with yours truly is up and running at his place. Please, for the love of God, stop by, give it a read, and leave a pithy comment or two. In my opinion, the answers are some of my funniest ever. But, I’ll let you be the judge.
And shame on you “regulars" who didn’t ask me a question!
And shame on you “regulars" who didn’t ask me a question!
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Golfing, With A Twist Of Limekiln
The dreaded scorecard. My scores are at the top.For the three of you who wondered why today’s posts are so late, I was lucky enough to hit the links this morning before work tonight. My foursome (Me, Badger, Badger’s brother Sean, and his friend Pip) drove out to Limekiln Golf Club in Ambler, PA. The club is composed of three nine-hole courses, so the starter can mix and match courses, and thus, avoid long lines.
Badger ruined my day almost immediately when he said “we” bet Sean and Pip $5 each for the best score on the front nine, back nine, and the total score. That’s $15 each “we” were bound to lose, because Sean is a fabulous golfer, and Pip is at least as good as me. The only thing we had going for us was that Sean was still a little drunk from Friday’s night out. I mean, how well can he play drunk, right?
Sean then hit a 200-yard drive, straight down the middle of the fairway. Frak!
I hit a decent drive, and wound up with a 6 on the first hole. Not bad, but not great. I followed with a 4, a 6, and two straight 8’s. It was getting pretty damned ugly. After five holes, we were down ten strokes.
Then, something happened. I started playing out of my mind.
I hit a par on the 7th, then a 7, a 5, and another par on the 9th. My total for the first half was 51, which is much better than I usually score. Badger came out with a 46, for a team total of 97. Sean and Pip ended the front with a 47 and a 49, respectively, for a total of 96. We lost the front, but only by one.
I started the back nine with a 4, then a 7, and then followed with two straight pars. The last was my fourth of the day: new league record! Another despicable 8, I followed with a 5, which put my score at 83 with three holes to go. Suddenly, a thought appeared in my mind: “Oh my God, I may break 100 here.”
And then I frakked everything up: I said that out loud!
Badger and Sean just said, “You touched the money!” I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn’t. “I jinxed myself. I jinxed myself!” As I lined up for the 180-yard, par 3 16th, the jinx was still rattling through my empty head. I swung at the ball, made contact . . . and it went just past the ladies tee. FRAK!!! The next two shots were a blur. Both deep, wet rough shots that went nowhere. I miraculously finished the hole with a 6 – and was happy about it. Now, I had an 89.
On 17, it was more of the same. My trajectory was all over the place, and I shot a double bogey 6. Now, I was at 95, with the 401-yard, par 4 18th remaining. I needed a par to break 100.
My drive was fantastic, long and straight. It landed about 160 yards from the pin. I was still alive. My second shot went a little right, and short. I was about 75 yards from the pin. Now I am getting worried. I could still save par with a decent wedge shot. My third shot hit the ball wrong, and it went left into the greenside rough. Damnit. Sensing defeat, I took the next shot, and my wedge went underneath the ball, barely moving it. I was still in greenside rough, and decided to putt it out, since the 99 was now a figment of my imagination. It rolled true, and stopped a half inch from the pin. Everyone yelled, and I said, “Ten second rule! No one touch it until it falls in!”
It never did, and I tapped in for a disappointing 6. Total score: 101.
What? You were expecting a happy ending with me involved?
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