From the "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot" files...

Got this via the Squeaky Wheel. I've already forwarded it on to the BACA Nation radio show, but I think I need to vent a bit on this...

from the article:

"A PEDOPHILE who raped a 10-year-old girl will be free in just four months after a British judge said his victim had "dressed provocatively"."

Ok, I have to say I've seen some VERY mature-looking kids. I have yet to see a 10 year old that looks of age, regardless of how she was dressed...

"In the latest case, Oxford Crown Court heard harrowing details of the assault on the 10-year-old. She was attacked in a park in South Oxfordshire by Fenn and his accomplice Darren Wright, 34, on October 14 last year.

Fenn removed all her clothes and raped her, then Wright took her to his home and sexually assaulted her."

So the one perv molested her, then the other took her home and continued the abuse?

I think I've got some rusty pinking shears somewhere around here...

"Yet Judge Hall said the case was exceptional because the "young woman" had been wearing a frilly bra and thong."

Ok... Squeaky Wheel already touched on this, but I think I want to emphasize: a ten-year-old does NOT, in any way, qualify as a "young woman". The term "woman" is usually used to describe someone who has started to physically develop: I've NEVER seen a ten-year-old who qualified. "Girl", or even "Little Girl" are the appropriate terms...

Also... at NO point should how someone is dressed be a qualifier to allow sexual assault. Period. Full stop. If a human of the female persuasion feels most comfortable walking around in nothing but revealing lingerie, that does NOT excuse some low-life forcing his sexual attentions on her...

"The court heard that the girl regularly wore make-up, strappy tops and jeans."

So? Half the girls I saw out today were wearing less: does that mean they're all "asking for it"? Give my five minutes with any scum that feels so, and acts on the presumed "invitation"...

"It is quite clear she is a very disturbed child and a very needy child and she is a sexually precocious child. She liked to dress provocatively," the judge said.

What the HELL does "sexually precocious" mean? Was she egging them on, ASKING them to molest her? Did she BEG the one to take her to his home, so he could continue the rape?

"Did she look like she was 10? Certainly not. She looked 16.""

Ok... I'm not sure of the laws in Britain. However, it's usually considered bad for a 24 year old to have relations with a 16 year old. And beyond the pale for a 34 year old to do so. Besides, I could've sworn the legal age of consent was 18 (or do they allow greater freedom earlier in England?)...

And then there's this gem:

"The same judge caused uproar earlier this year by setting free another paedophile and telling him to give his victim money "to buy a nice new bicycle"."

He not only (for all intents and purposes) ignored the victim's pain, he also ENCOURAGED further contact between the victim and his abuser? And THIS is supposed to be the "Guardian of Justice" in Britain?

I can't WAIT for my brothers and sisters back in the old country to get organized. Maybe they can help stem the tide of such insanity...

In response to a comment...

Sevesteen posted a comment on my last entry. I had to respond, and I figured it would be better as a seperate entry...

From this section of the named website:

"The love that I wish to bestow upon her will start with phileo, the love which is equated with friendship, companionship and affection. As I get to know her better and appreciate her for the unique individual that she is, this love will deepen into agape, a profound respect and admiration. Our friendship and mutual respect will allow us to fully appreciate the joys of our eros, or physical love, which will, in turn, affirm and reinforce the beautiful bond we have created together."

If that isn't someone promoting sexualy relations between an adult and a minor, then I don't know what IS. That said...

I've read a little more of the site, and it DOES seem to mainly focus on staying within the law. So I'll put it this way: I won't act against any person who doesn't hurt a child. Anyone who DOES act against a child (abusing them physicall, mantally, emotionall, or sexually) is my sworn enemy. Does that work for everyone?

WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT?

Via Angela: the website of an admitted pedophile, who tries to justify "childlove".

Don't get me wrong here: I'm ALL about Freedom of Speech. But there are some things that just step WAY over the line. This type of thing tops that list.

I WAS pulling for Fred Thompson

Just read this over at Tam's.

She's got MY vote. Think we can get her through the primary? Just think about it: Tamara/Thompson against Hillary/Obama. Can you imagine THOSE debates?

A good start

And via Angela, we have this. From the article:

"Operation Lobate was revealed overnight in the United Kingdom as having involved law enforcement agencies around the world, including Australia, the United Kingdom, the United States, Italy and Canada.

The AFP said the operation resulted in 63 arrests in 35 countries, with 14 people arrested over offences involving actual contact with victims.

They said 22 child victims of abuse had been rescued. "



Now, this is what I call a good start. Maybe, if folks are paying attention, we can work on stopping the destruction of our kids...

You would not believe what some of these abusers are. I've seen them: they look like everyday folks. Go to church on Sunday, donate to local charities, what have you. It's all camouflage, meant to distract you from what they really are: sick fucks who prey on children...

Important FYI:

Just caught this from the Bitch Girls, and thought I'd add it myself...

Personally, I wouldn't knowingly do business with anyone who insisted that I remains helpless against the goblins of the world. And I think most of the two of you feel the same...

Snark done right

Courtesy of Ambulance Driver, we have Cranky Epistles. This is a lady with some opinions, who is NOT afraid to let them out. Complete snarky goodness: give her a read!

Since all the cool kids are doing it...

Stolen from many (but *I* was never tagged: guess they just don't like me *sniff*)

"LALOLKFATYK" Meme

WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Yes... my father and godfather

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Mom's funeral

DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Don't know... haven't seen it since bootcamp. I print

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Hmmm... cappicola or roast beef

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? depends: do the cats and ferret count?

IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? HELL no: I'm an asshole!

DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Nah

DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Nope

WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? At one time, I would've. Now, no way in Hell.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Frosted Flakes

DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? if they have laces

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Yep. But I'll be showering tomorrow, so that should take care of it...

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Chocolate (you mean there's other kinds?)

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? their eyes

RED OR PINK? grey

WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? Only thing I don't like about myself is I'm too modest

WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Mom

WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? I'm barefoot, and wearing a black Utilikilt

WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? I'm just finishing up some chocolate chips

WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Some Eighties mix station: Martika's Toy Soldiers is currently playing

IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? something very bright and vivid, that would burn people's eyes out

FAVORITE SMELLS? My sense of smell is so atrophied from polishing for 13 years, I don't notice smells most of the time

WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My friend Bob in Chicago, trying to arrange a ride for Squeeker to the hospital (LONG story)

FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? I don't watch sports. If it's something I play (paintball, shooting), then I'll watch for pointers...

HAIR COLOR[S]? Brown. Magenta at one point

EYE COLOR? hazel

DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Used to. Gave up on 'em

FAVORITE FOOD? Rare tenderloin

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Depends on my mood...

LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? To Wong Foo: thanks for Everything, Julie Numar

WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? a black Lady Death tank

SUMMER OR WINTER? ok: I'm in Wisconsin. Our seasons run "almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction". I prefer "road construction", 'cause riding the bike through snow sucks.

HUGS OR KISSES? Depends: where are we talking about being kissed?

FAVORITE DESSERT? see above

MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? I don't expect anybody to "respond", since I'm not tagging anyone

LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? see above

WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Take a Thief by Mercedes Lackey

WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? a cat: what else?

WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? We don't really watch TV here: too many other things to do

FAVORITE SOUND[S]? Gunfire. Stock Harley pipes. Certain sounds my wife makes

ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Iron Maiden

WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Hmmm... don't feel like digging up a map. Either Singapore or Hong Kong

DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Several: I'm a talented guy!

WHERE WERE YOU BORN? earth

WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? see above

Send a letter to the Marines

Via Barking Moonbat Early Warning Systems:

Seems we have an addy to email some of Unca Sam's Misguided Children over in their sandbox. Being a former sailor, this seems like a VERY good idea: words of encouragement and appreciation always make the folks overseas feel better.

In case you don't want to check the above link, the addy is RCT-6lettersfromh@gcemnf-wiraq.usmc.mil

Let's flood 'em with goodwill!

Yet another quiz thingie...

Now HERE'S a surprise!

You are The Devil

Materiality. Material Force. Material temptation; sometimes obsession

The Devil is often a great card for business success; hard work and ambition.

Perhaps the most misunderstood of all the major arcana, the Devil is not really "Satan" at all, but Pan the half-goat nature god and/or Dionysius. These are gods of pleasure and abandon, of wild behavior and unbridled desires. This is a card about ambitions; it is also synonymous with temptation and addiction. On the flip side, however, the card can be a warning to someone who is too restrained, someone who never allows themselves to get passionate or messy or wild - or ambitious. This, too, is a form of enslavement. As a person, the Devil can stand for a man of money or erotic power, aggressive, controlling, or just persuasive. This is not to say a bad man, but certainly a powerful man who is hard to resist. The important thing is to remember that any chain is freely worn. In most cases, you are enslaved only because you allow it.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Stolen shamelessly from Dragonwatch.

Umm... He-lloooo? Mc Fly?!?!?

The ever-weird Bedlamite sent me this lil bit, and I felt the need to post it here for y'all.

Sad part is, this guy is probably full of righteous indignation, not realizing he's part of the problem he's complaining about...

I distinctly remember the HOG rally in Manitowoc: I sat at the local tattoo shop, watching the folks go by: "middle management, middle management, upper management, middle management... oh, hey! A real biker!!!".

I've got a friend out west who's been in the "biker world" for ages. He tells me that many "old school" types are disgusted with Harley. Not because of the folks you see riding 'em nowadays, but because some of the shops act like they're so much better than you (he's even been asked to not come in to some shops, as he "ruins their reputation").

I wonder what's gonna happen when being a biker isn't the "in thing" any more?

Memorable Statements

Ya know... Some folks should understand that anything they say can and WILL be used as blog material...

So... We (Spoon, Ray and I) are getting ready to go visit Squeeker (she got out of the hospital yesterday). Spoon's in the shower, and Ray is... Uptight. I'm sitting at the table reading, when I hear the following:

"Spoon... In the interests of public safety, could you please hand me my Midol?"

Jules also got into the act the other day, telling me about a message she received from a friend. He had applied to work in a psych ward, and needed "24hours of experience". So he wanted to know if she wanted to hang out...

It took her a minute to figure out what he was suggesting...

I just can NOT make this stuff up!

"How I damaged my shoulder"

Or "Strings is a clutzy idiot, who should keep wheels from between his feet and the ground"...

Several years back, I used to hang out at the local comic shop. One of my friends there and I were rabid roller-bladers: five miles a day during the week, and several circuits of the city on weekends. We raced each-other in what can only be termed "suicide courses": down steep, grassy hills. Through traffic. Over and around every possible obstacle we could find. Rules were simple: the clock didn't stop until you a) reached the finish, or b) died...

One day, we started getting nostalgic, and recalled the fun we used to have playing lazer tag. And Jeff remembered where his gear was stored. He ran home, while i ran to the store for batteries.

Now, we weren't really expecting anything spectacular. We figured (at best) to have some fun with the kids. Unfortunately, the kids were sharp: they wanted us handicapped (because we were experienced players). The lines were drawn: Jeff and I vs roughly 10 lil' kids. The kids allowed us one aid in our handicap...

Wondering why I suddenly started talking about lazer tag? They tie together: the kids said we could play while on our blades. I think the kids were smarter than we were...

Game went fairly well at first: Jeff or I would swoop in faster than the kids could run, and hit 'em a bunch of times. A good number of the kids were out, when I made what was THE bone-headed manuver of the game: while coasting along, I twisted to shoot at one kid who was behind me...

There was no reason for me to do this: the old tag sets did NOT have sensors on the backs, so junior wasn't a threat. Jeff was coming from the same direction I was heading, and would undoubtedly take the boy out. But I let myself get too competitive...

As my pistol lined up (I DID hit my target), my body suddenly got conflicting orders. My lower body got the memo "keep going", but my upper body decided that it didn't want to move anymore. One of the observers described it as looking like I had run into a chest-high bar: my legs just suddenly swung up, and I fell straight down... :(

I spent the next couple weeks in a sling (still 'blading, mind you). And now, every once-in-awhile, my shoulder goes wiggy. In my defense, the injury was worse than it could've been: I was too busy saving the gun to save myself.


For now, we won't talk about the other 'blading injuries I've sustained over the years (at some point, we may discuss Spoon's try-out for the Brickcapades)...

Checking Sitemeter for ego stroking

... and I notice that I've had a visit from Egypt.

Now, I have NO idea why someone in Egypt might find what I write interesting. How-some-ever, if that worthy sould would speak up, I'll answer any question he (or she) may have, JUST because I think Egypt rocks...


I also noticed that I'm slowly approaching 1500 visitors (sad, I know). Whoever hits the 2K mark, let me know what you'ld like written about (that's your no-prize)...

Heh... I've corrupted my roommate...

Well now... my roomie just started her own blog (and she's blaming me for it). I know there are one or two who read this: swing on over and give her a read...

Not sure how I missed it...

But AD posted something yesterday that is incredibly touching. Go read it here.

Things like this post (along with Mr Fixit's post from a few days ago) give me just a touch of hope when I'm dealing with a child that's been abused by those supposed to protect them. Thanks guys, cause there are times I NEED that hope to keep going!

Yet another blog worth reading...

well now! It appears that one of the well known (and, at least by me, respected) moderators on the High Road has opened a blog. I'd like to introduce y'all to Don Gwinn. If you're reading me, you'll enjoy Don...

Da Girls

Occurs to me that, in the "facts about me" meme, I left out one little tidbit about my "faire wife", Squeeker: she was in a house fire at 15, and has had a trach tube pretty much since. Well, Friday she had her preliminary surgery to have it removed: the reconstruction of her trachea itself. She's doing fine (although she isn't supposed to talk, which is driving her nuts: Spoon threatened to use a ball gag on her if she doesn't keep quiet). Assuming everything goes well, in 6 months or so she'll have the trach removed and sealed up.

In somewhat more minor news, Spoon got a treat today: some guy let her take his trike for a spin. Now, she has wanted a trike for longer than I've known her, but never even got a ride on one. Saw this one at a local watering hole, stopped in to ask about it, and the guy took her out, letting her drive for about 4 blocks. I haven't seen a grin like this on her since she got to shoot full-auto. 'Course, now I have to find her a trike...

Cool! more linky love!

Just got another person adding me to their blogroll: the Squeaky Wheel Seeks Grease.

Cool! Thanks for thinking I write well enough to suggest me to other people! Always nice to be added to another person's links (makes me feel like I might have some clue what I'm doing here)...

Check her out here, or via my daily reads (yep: I check her every day). Good snark!

San Francisco' love afair with the military

Caught this on APS:

SAN FRANCISCO - The annual aerial show by the U.S. Navy’s Blue Angels — a San Francisco tradition dating back to 1981 that pumps millions into the local economy — is running into opposition from three local peace advocacy groups that are calling for a permanent halt to the popular Fleet Week flyover.

(read the rest here)

Now, I never got to be there for Fleet Week. Heck, we only stopped in San Fran once while I was in, and that was only a couple days. However, the City by the Bay has REALLY outdone themselves this time...

Why is it, they simply can NOT leave well-enough alone? Fleet week brings in millions of dollars to the community, doesn't really cause much disruption, and gives some disadvantaged kids the chance to really think about a career that can get them out of the cesspool of their lives. Yet the anti-war crowd seems to want to stop it entirely...

The suggestion has been made that maybe, we should pull any military presence out of such cities, and let them stand on their own when disaster strikes: can you imagine the problems that would arise should another decent earthquake hit, and suddenly there's no National Guard to help the good citizens of San Fran? "Gee... we're sorry you're having these troubles. But you made it fairly clear y'all wanted nothign to do with the military, and we respect your wishes. So we really can't send troops in to help you clean things up..."

Can you imagine the hue and cry that would result? Think maybe some would realize the error of their ways?

I'd like to die in my sleep...

Via Mr Fixit:

Death through freak supernatural incident You are going to die in a freak vampire/werewolf incident. I would start carrying garlic and silver bullets if I were you. There is something weird about your demeanor, and evil is attracted to you. Plus you may be a little attracted to evil too. Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Hmmm... oddly, this really doesn't shock me...

Linky love

Well... got a message from DW at Dragonwatch, asking if it would be ok to link to me. Hmmm... have to think about that for a

YEP! No prob, brother!

And, of course, had to reciprocate the love there...

Now, I'm gonna go curl in a corner and cry: I can't raise my right arm above shoulder level without feeling like someone is driving an icepick into it. Someday, I'll have to explain where that injury came from...

And another prediction of the future...

Stolen from Ambulance Driver:

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Which is funny, 'cause I used to have recurring nightmares of being buried alive...

Obituary

Via Babs

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Well... at least SOMEONE will miss me... ;)

From yesterday

In going through my daily reads yesterday, I came across something that sparked me a bit: a post concerning motorcycle safety. And I thought to myself "self, that would make a really good topic!"...

First off, the helmet law.
Now, I'll admit: I do not usually wear a helmet. I know that it almost guarantees death should the 'Potomus dump me on the I, but it's my choice to make. I've heard all the arguments (visibility, hearing, etc), but what it boils down to is a person's right to decide what risks they're willing to take, and how they wish to manage those risks. Honestly, I'm an idiot for not wearing the helmet: I KNOW that it could mean the difference between functionality and veggiehood in a serious accident. But I choose to go with the convenience of just hopping on my scoot and riding along (and I truly think that any adult should have the same choice).

Secondly, rider/driver attitudes.
The post that sparked me on this mentioned some younger guy on a crotch rocket, who said "I'm a very conservative rider, I'll never lay it down!", or words to that effect. Wow... I'd like to know what color the sky is in his world! When you're on two wheels, the ONLY way to deal with the cages surrounding you is to assume they (and whoever built the slab you're on) actively desire your demise. And the more gruesome said demise, the better.

I've ridden out a skid, traveling sideways down the road, because a dump truck decided to turn in front of me. I've watched friends do all manner of acrobatics to avoid Suzie Soccarmom when she pulls out in her new grocery getter- then listened to her wail about how that bike "almost hit her new car!!!". I've had one asshat (this was my first week as a rider) decide that my passing him (he was doing 40 in a 55) was an intolerable insult, and ride roughly 6 inches off my rear tire at 60+. And on and on...

If you ride, remember: you look EXACTLY like the guy the cager next to you caught his wife in bed with last night. His car will take out your Uberhog with barely a ding, and nobody will see a thing...

Last off: for the cagers.
PLEASE, remember that with better weather, the scoots will be out. Try to remember that, and maybe drive just a bit more carefully. And, if you see that dirty bro, broken down beside the road, ask if you can help: he'll remember...

Wow

Mr Fixit has an awesome post that I think everyone should read. Check it out!

I'll give the Billboard meme a try

Wasn't tagged (guess none of the cool bloggers like me enough for that). But I figured, what the hell...

1. Go to the Billboard #1 Hits listings
2. Pick the year you turned 18
3. Get yourself nostalgic over the songs of the year
4. Pick 5 songs and write something about how these songs affected you
5. Pass it on to 5 more friends

Gotta warn you: '90 was NOT a good year for music...

1: Black Velvet - Alannah Myles

This is the song I remember cruising around the nearby "big city" to. No "this was our song" stuff: just one of the few cool tunes that came out the year I turned 18...

2: Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinead O'Connor

This came out, and a good friend of mine became a total Sinead groupie. I heard it, shrugged, and thought "what... she can't spell english words?"

3: Vogue - Madonna

Heh... one of the few songs I've ever quoted. The line "Let your body move to the music" is THE best explanation of how to dance I have ever heard ('course, I don't dance anymore)...

4: Blaze of Glory Jon - Bon Jovi

I remember learning the song (had a kinda band going in high school). It was Bon Jovi, which to us meant fluff...

5: Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice

Oddly enough, I remember this because of the "controversy". A complete rip-off of Queen, that made it to #1. Sad, in the same way Milli Vanilli was sad...

Y'all have to remember, what I listened to (for the most part) was metal, which was NOT played on the air here in WI: Metallica (pre Black Album), Ozzy, Iron Maiden. I had the tape player going FAR more often than the radio...

Via Angela's blog:

Seems some ballplayers in San Jose, CA decided to have some fun of a carnal nature with a young lady at a birthday party. I'm not sure of all the details (other than several guys were involved, and the lady is 17). I'm willing to bet, however, that there's a little more truth to her story than what was brought against the Duke la crosse team...

I'm not gonna go over all the standard stuff that gets talked about in cases like these: the outrage, finger-pointing, devastation (to the girl if she's telling the truth, to the guys if she's not). No, I'm going to suggest something:

Those of you with daughters, PLEASE teach them to stand up for themselves. Teach them how to avoid bad situations, where stuff like this can happen. Get them instructed in the many ways of inflicting extreme pain on a guy that doesn't understand "no", and instill in them the mindset to USE that training.

I've seen too many cases of rape: no matter what, the victim has to live with the scars for years. And we're raising children NOT to fight back, NOT to struggle, NOT to say "this is my body. And the only way you're putting THAT in me is if I rip it off first!". Instead, we want our daughters to ask the perp to please wear a condom: to comply with their wishes, in hopes of not getting hurt as badly...

Hustler magazine, many years ago, spoofed some of the suggestions made to potential rape victims: "Just Say Yes". But we seem to be on a road to exactly that.

Says something about the direction we're going. And I don't think I like what it says at all...

Some newfound linky-love

Added a couple new (to me) blogs to the nightly read, and thought I'd recommend 'em to both of you reading me...

Dragonwatch seems to have similar ideas about the world and it's make-up, and can turn a good phrase. If you haven't perused his site, take a gander!

And the Barking Moonbat Early Warning System has (so far) shown some good snark...

WHAT is wrong with people?!?!

From Dragonwatch:

We've all (I think) heard about the ginormous feral hog that a young man down in one of our southern states shot recently. Great story, took what appears to be a world-record feral hog with a Smith .500 (and maybe, should brought more gun: took three hours to finally put the ol' boy down. Goes to show: nothing handheld is a reliable stopper)...

Now personally, I don't hunt: not anti-hunting, just not my cuppa. But take a gander at the negative comments section of their website: man, some of these folks are downright NASTY, especially since the target of their venom is an 11 year old boy!

Wow... I wish *I* was man enough to curse out a pre-pubescent child on the internet, where there's no chance of repercussions...

Via APS

Something I caught on APS. If you haven't seen it, go here and watch the vid.

Y'all will excuse me, but I think I gotta walk away for a minute...

Confused...

Ok... read this the other day on Bitch Girls, and didn't really think much about it. Today, I actually read the article it was based on, and now I'm scratching my head...

I'm fairly open minded when it comes to sex: what happens between consenting adults is the business of nobody BUT the aforementioned consenting adults. However, when you admit to having oral sex in a restroom, with someone you barely know, some folks (myself included) might conclude that you're a little indiscriminate. When you joke about it with friends, at a wedding, it gets a touch ironic...

There are a LOT of very attractive women I know that I could describe as "not a stranger, but not a friend either". Regardless of how attractive or smooth-talking they are, nor how sexy *I* feel when they "catch" me, I'm not about to prefrom oral sex on them in a restroom, nor bring them home with me for further amusement. And honestly, most of the people I know would look at such actions and immediately cry "slut!"...

IS America actually turning out people that think this kinda thing is cool?

Some BACA promotion

Sitting here reading my bloglist, and listening to BACA Nation, an' I suddenly realize that I haven't linked to the show...

BACA Nation is a broadcast on New Artist Radio: pretty much the only online radio show I listen to. Caveman and Guru try to get an hour-long show out each week. Some good blues, news of BACA, and news about child abuse and legislation. Give 'em a listen!

Can I get an "Amen!"

Courtesy of Squeaky Wheel:

Friends Don't Care

by Michael Z. Williamson
daggers@indy.net
July 4, 2001

I can be your best friend.

Not because I care, but because I don't.

I don't care what church, if any, you go to. I don't care if you are Church of God, Church of Christ, Church of God in Christ, Church of Christ reformed, Church of Christ Scientist, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Byzantine Catholic, Roman Catholic, Jewish Congregationalist, Hindu, Shinto, Islamic, Buddhist, Greek Orthodox, Native American, Irish Druidic, Scandinavian Druidhe, Pagan, Wiccan…Hell, I don't care if you worship the Great Pumpkin. Or no deity at all. How you spend your Sundays, Saturdays, Fridays, Tuesday evenings, full Moons, or eclipses is up to you.

I don't care if you have sex with men, women, both, or neither. If it's in private, and they are freely consenting adults, it's your business. I may not like it myself, but I don't care about you.

I don't care what brand of beer you drink or not, if you drink wine or not, liquor or not. I don't care if you brew your own, grow your own or roll your own. I don't care if you smoke dope, rope, or nightshade. It's your body, poison it any way you wish. Just keep the residue in your own home, okay?

Vegetarian? Okay. Vegan? Great. Rare steak only, or raw rattlesnake? Cool. Squid with the tentacles still wiggling? Suits me just fine.

Are you skinny? Fat? Ugly? Overdressed? Underdressed? Naked? Hey, it's your life, do what you wish. If I don't like it, I won't watch.

I am a politician's worst nightmare. I can't be made to hate, I can't be panicked by the strange, and I'll react ungraciously to attempts to inspire me so. I vote on issues, not on smokescreens, and no Orwellian pigs in suits need apply.

I'm not part of a vast conspiracy to put Candidate X into office--Candidate X is an idiot, and so is Candidate Y. I voted for the Manchurian Candidate myself, because I don't care. I don't belong to the Hate Group of the Month Club on the Evening news, because I don't care. How can you possibly think I have anything in common with them?

Oh, right. I own guns. So do they. I'll bet a bunch of them read Doctor Seuss growing up, too, as did I. I don't see how that's relevant, either.

So that's it. Power scares you. And by not being a pawn, by being able to think, and by daring to think differently from you, I scare you. Well, relax, because I don't care.

Read the papers of the country, or for that matter, the world. You'll find me right there defending the unpopular in letters to the editor, in marches, in protests and sit-ins. I don't care so damned much that I'll go far out of my way to prove it. When your oppressors refuse to believe I don't care, I'm willing to reinforce the point…WITH force.

The only actions of yours I care about are those that actually affect me. Try to rape my wife, and you die. Try to assault me, and you die. Touch my children…Well, then you'll die slowly, as a lesson to others.

Try to take my guns away, or send someone else to do so…well, then I care. Keep in mind--they protect you, too. The people who DO care about silly details of your life DO have guns, whether you call them extremists, fanatics, cults, militias, or Federal Agents. It's easy to hate a name, isn't it? I'd hate the names, too, if it would make any difference, but it doesn't. Hateful people hide everywhere, and I don't care. Only when they ACT on that hate do I become aroused. By acting on hate, they interfere with my ability not to care. And that just ruins my whole day. Sometimes it takes the threat of force to prove I don't care. That's why I have the guns.

Why would you want to take my guns away, knowing I don't care? I'm no threat. I'm your best friend. I don't even care if THEY have guns. I don't even care if YOU have a gun. I care even less if you don't like ME having a gun.

So do me a favor and don't come to my door asking me to turn over my tools of reason.

Because I don't care who interferes with my right to not care.

And neither do my guns.

Copyright 2001 by Michael Z. Williamson. Permission is granted to copy in whole for non-profit purposes, provided due credit is given. Please inform the author directly at daggers@indy.net or through http://www.KeepAndBearArms.com when you do. Mr. Williamson's online archive is found here: http://www.KeepAndBearArms.com/Williamson.

Rented something new...

Well now: I've learned to take a bit of advice on movies from some of the fora I frequent. Tonight was no exception: Spoon and I rented Pan's Labyrinth. I have to say, it's the best movie I've ever read...

Visually, it was stunning: it made you believe in the mythological. Still not sure if the mythological aspects take place in the main character's imagination or not, but that's part of the appeal. There ARE a few scenes that should be avoided by the squeamish: there's a touch of graphic violence. But overall, I have to say this is one I plan on adding to the collection...

Domestic Terrorism?

Via APS, I find this little tidbit.

Take the quiz: some of the questions are kinda humorous.

I wear the answer to number 17 on the top right of my colors, for those who are interested... ;)

I scored 70%, so I might be blogging from Gitmo soon. In the meantime, I felt I should add the banner...

BACA on Extreme Home Makeover Home Edition!!

This sunday, the 13th (check local listings for times), on Extreme Makeover Home Edition, a BACA family from Kansas City will appear. Our BACA founder, JP Lilly and members from the Kansas City Chapter will also be featured. JP was interviewed for the show, not sure how much will be shown but hopefully it will get the word out there about us even more.

MEME thingie

Ok...so Ambulance Driver has his lil' meme thing, and I figure "what the heck: I can do that!".

Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?

Here are the rules: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things and add a copy of these rules. THEN, you need to choose 7 people to tag and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!

1.I'm currently unemployed. I ran the family business for about three years after mom died (and dad took off for Thailand), but it almost overcame me this past summer.

2. In addition to all the normal stuff I do (wait... I do normal stuff?), I play around with being a silversmith (doing mostly celtic knotwork).

3. While married (happily) to Spoon, I have two "girlfriends". Jules, who will be marrying her sweetheart next year (and whom Spoon is supposed to be standing up for), and Squeeker (who is my "Faire wife", keeping me out of trouble and making sure I eat and sleep). Never claimed I was your normal person...

4. Spoon and I live with another couple (my Chapter VP Ray and her husband), in a house that really ain't big enough. My computer (there are 4 in the house) is in the library (yes, we have the smallest room set up as an out-an'-out library).

5. I don't drink (much): a beer now and then, occasionally a sip of something harder. Last time I was even tipsy was last year at Faire (and that was just a warm feeling). Last time I was outright drunk was 6 years ago. Last alcohol I had was last weekend (a sip of butter rum). If you want a REALLY wild party animal, I'm not the guy you're looking for.

6. I'm a voracious reader... for fun. So long as I'm just doing it for entertainment, I can read almost anything nonstop (although I prefer sci-fi or fantasy). Used to get in trouble in school for reading ahead in textbooks (reading class, social studies, history, science). Now, I just get yelled at by Spoon for reading when I should be doing dishes... ;)

7. Unlike most stereotypical bikers, I don't ride a Hog: I ride a POS Honda Goldwing that was made when I was 4, and was previously owned by a mental incompetent with delusions of mechanical ability. In the two years I've owned the 'Potomus (short for "Hondapotomus"), I have:
-rewired the lights
-removed the stereo, as it was powered via an ungrounded extension cord
-replaced the drive shaft
-rewired the lights (again)
-rewired the starter switch from the handlebars to the fairing (using a flip-covered toggle switch)
-rebuilt the front calipers
-rewired the lights (again)
-now rebuilding the front master cylinder


One day, I'll have a real bike...

Ok... that's it for personal info. No more for you!

Sheesh... as if things weren't bad enough!

Spend the day cleaning, and the evening tearing apart the front brake cylinder on the 'Potomus. Come inside to relax, eat a big bowl of ramen, and read some bloggy goodness. And what do I find on Tam's site (via alpheca)? This little bit of hippocracy...

Now, I've had conversations with lots of police over the years. And there are a LOT of good police out there. But thing like this make me wonder if they live in the same world as I do, when they ask "why is there an 'us vs them' attitude?"

I wonder if the posters to that forum honestly expect to have any amount of respect from the general public?

*sigh*

'Course, it makes me appreciate the cops we have here at home a lil' bit more...

Back to blogging

Whew!

Well... Child Abuse Awareness Month is finally over, and we made it through the Weekend from Hell with only minor scrapes (and a bit of sunburn: I now sport a tanned face and white forehead, courtesy of a skullcap and 100 miles in the sun).

We pulled a little money for the kids (although not as much as I'd have liked), made some good contacts (possibly some new Chapters forming), and generally had a good time. Hats off to the Ant Hill Mob for an outstanding bikeshow (even if I didn't win the raffle bike). And now, I should be blogging more regularly...

Cruel and Unusual?

Via CNN:

(AP) -- The drugs used to execute prisoners in the United States sometimes fail to work as planned, causing slow and painful deaths that probably violate constitutional bans on cruel and unusual punishment, a new medical review of dozens of executions concludes... (the rest of the article)

Ok... call me a neanderthal, but my give-a-damn is busted on this one. You're found guilty of a heinous crime (which are about the only ones they execute for anymore), suck sustenance for years off the taxpayer teat while you mount endless appeals, and I'm supposed to feel bad that you might still be conscious while your body shuts down via lethal injection?

Sorry folks: I took my give-a-damn in when it first broke years ago, and it was just too frelling expensive to fix.

Since everybody else already covered it...

The VA Tech shooting.

I don't know what happened. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. I think both Lawdog and Marko have made the best statements about it. anything I could try to add would be pointless.

My heart goes out to the families...

oops...

Missed a couple more from my daily read:

Marko: Sorry man, I somehow forgot you. This is one of the most well-spoken men I know (I rank him with Lawdog in use of the English language). Definately worth reading when he has time to post.

Angela: met this young lady during a BACA adoption: she's the super-hero I mentioned previously. Always worth hearing what this survivor has to say.

and another blog added

And I've added another blog to my daily read: ColtCCO. Led there due to Lawdog posting about Tam's new... friend...

Folks, quick word of advice: if you're gonna play "interweb stalker", pick a target that ISN'T likely to put enough lead into you to sink the Bismark...

promised kitten pics (better late than never)

Couldn't sleep, and decided to read over what I had written: make sure some of the topic ideas hadn't been covered. And noticed I had promised pictures of the kitten that cost me my Spyderco...

As promised, the pics of Koosh (short for Kushame, Japanese for "sneeze") and his momma, Squeeker. Good thing they don't get along, ain't it?

About pigs, and a girl named Boss...

Well, we made it back from Illinois. And all I can say is wow...

The call went out, about a young lady that needed our help in IL. Problem is, we don't have a Chapter down there... they've got people trying to get started, but they haven't gotten off the ground. So the MO Chapters sent people, and my VP and I headed down...

Some background here: the girl in question has been abused by her father for years, and the abuse has continued even while she's at college. She's spent the last several weeks staying at a safehouse...

We met up with the crew from MO, and headed out: we caged, since it was felt that a bunch of bikes riding into this quiet neighborhood might draw unwanted attention to the house. As we arrived, the girl and her supporters were waiting outside: the lady she was staying with, a friend, a videographer (more on that later), and, well... a superhero (again, more later)...

What they saw as we got out was around 20 ugly leather-clad folks there to help. While talking with her, my brother Stroker asked if she knew who the boss was... who was in charge of us. When she said she didn't know, he told her she was... SHE'S the boss. And so, her ridename was born...

She immediately sent Stroker behind a tree for misbehaving (he was teasing our sister Angel). And he went: when the Boss says "go", you go...

This wasn't a normal case: WAY out of our area, a legal adult as victim... completely out of the norm. The MO folks had to leave Saturday night: they had adoptions Sunday. Ray and I stayed through Monday: can't talk about all we did right now, beyond that we helped Boss continue on the road to a full recovery. People ask what we do: we try to help empower children. And this weekend, we empowered Boss. When we arrived, she was VERY shy: wouldn't meet your eyes, always whispering. When we left, she was standing tall, taking back control of her life...

Now, I mentioned a videographer. Everything that happened this weekend was taped for an eventual documentary. I didn't catch what network she was gonna hand it to, but this will (eventually) be on one of the news shows. I say eventually because she wants to hold on to it until Boss is safe, and things are finished...

I also mentioned a superhero: that's what her card says. I suppose you'd call her a therapist... although most therapists don't drop $1500 to fly themselves out to help someone. I prefer her term, superhero.

You'll notice that there aren't any names here: there's basic confidentiality. And there's (hopefully) the criminal prosecution. With any luck, followed by the perp being Bubba's girlfriend for many years...

About the "pigs" thing. Stroker asked us all at one point if we knew the difference between "involved" and "committed". If y'all don't know: when you had your ham and eggs this morning, the chicken was involved, the pig was committed...

One of THOSE days

You know the days: where EVERYTHING jumps up at once?

Got to rush dad to the ER last night. Today, met with a therapist that wants to work with our BACA chapter. And now, I get to run to somewhere in the middle of frelling Illinois for a case...

I'll be gone all weekend... y'all keep thinking of me, please. And the young lady we're goin' to help!

Update

Sigh...

was planning on visiting dad anyway tonight: had some business out of town, and was heading home with my VP when I got a call:

"Strings... you have access to a car?"

"Umm... yeah dad... I'm in one now, headin' home. Spoon and I'll be over when she gets home. What'd ya need?"

"I need to go to the hospital... I can't breathe"...

Did you know you can do some pretty amazing speeds in a lil' Saturn...

We got dad there with plenty of time. And it was nothing major: the doc had reduced his steroids too fast (or so my understanding goes). And dad got to make passes at a bunch of cute young nurses...

And they wouldn't even let me wheel him out when we left: something about my commenting on the cement pylons...

The Month from Hell

So... I know I haven't been posting much lately: unfortunately, we're entering the territory of Child Abuse Awareness Month. Or, as we like to call it, the Month from Hell...

It's kinda hard to explain to those not involved in BACA. Heck, it's sometimes hard to explain to some of the members: especially those who haven't experienced it for themselves.

This year, we're starting with an Awareness Party: a shindig at our home watering hole, mostly to promote the knowledge of Child Abuse Awareness Month, but also to try and generate membership. From there, things get hairy...

There's arranging presentations to whatever group we can think of, who might be interested in helping kids. PSAs have to be recorded, and stations talked into running 'em. There's pledges to be collected for the 100 Mile Ride at the end of the month. And then the final weekend...

The end of April, per BACA International directive, includes the 100 Mile Ride. Not a big deal: all our patched members need to go on an awareness ride of approximately 100 miles. However, our Chapter has two other events that Saturday: the area's largest bike show (put on by the Ant Hill Mob), and our local DHS sponsored Family Fun Day. Arranging staffing for that weekend for us is very similar to recruiting for the English Navy during old George's time: we sometimes feel like we need to resort to rum drinks...

I'll try and keep SOME kind of schedule here: kinda feel I owe y'all that. And I apologize ahead of time if I seem overly focused on BACA this month: it took over last year, and it's already doing the same this year.

Before I go: if y'all have a local Chapter, and have a lil' extra from Uncle Sam, think about giving a pledge. Or even better, if you have the time: ask 'em about joining. Very few things are quite as rewarding as seeing the smile on an abused child's face, and knowing you're responsible...

HAPPY OSTARA!!!

Time for the spring equinox. Hope y'all (of whatever faith the seven of ya are) have a great day, with good tidings for the rest of the year!

Dreams

Now, I'm not talking about "What I want to be when I grow up", or "I'd like to be able to buy Spoon her MP-5". I'm referring to those lil' snippets while you sleep, that make you wonder when you wake up "what drugs did my folks feed me when I was a baby?"...

So I wake up: having almost forgotten daylight savings time, I've slept a little later than I expected. Gotta get up: the Chapter's gonna be here soon, as we have an adoption today. Get dressed, and duck outside for my morning smoke. Talking to my roomie, and I relate the following:

"Yeah... It was kinda weird: I walk into Mc Donald's, and the Happy meal toys are plush High Road members"...

Then I watch as my roomie tries hacking up a lung: he was laughing so hard, he started coughing...

Where does my brain come up with this stuff?

Then there was Spoon, way back when we lived with my inlaws: she sits up, leans off over the bed with an exclamation of "OOPSIE!", and starts puttering around...

"What's wrong love?"

"I dropped the Jello... You tied it too tight to the spoon!"

By the way: NEVER laugh at someone talking in their sleep. She was still pissed the next day, even though she couldn't remember why...

Dad Update, 09 March

Well, got to spend some "quality time" with dad at the hospital, while he did his breathing tests today...

Doctors are saying "final stage emphysema, COPD". He's trying to get into some research hospital in Maryland: they've (supposedly) been working wonders. we'll see what happens...

Doing my best NOT to think about him being gone at the moment: still haven't really dealt with mom, and that was 03 (do we ever REALLY deal with losing a loved one?).

The Old Man is optimistic about his chances: he's still hoping to return to Thailand. Tell you the truth, I'm hoping he can too...

what's up with this BACA business?

Some of y'all might occasionally wonder "What's that biker thing the guy in the kilt is writin' about?". Today, I'll try to explain...

BACA was the brainchild of one JP "Chief" Lilly, a licensed child play therapist in Utah. It started with one child that would be fine in the office, but would fall apart out in the world: Chief got some biker friends of his together, visited the boy at home, and an idea was born...

I first found out about BACA at the Ren Faire: I was a new rider, so I always tried to take a look at anybody's colours as they walked past. Saw a member of the S E Wisconsin Chapter, asked about it, and things kinda went from there: roughly a year and a half later, and I'm suddenly the pres of the second Chapter in WI.

BACA has a very simple mission: to help abused children feel empowered in the world they live in. Yes, we do charity rides and such: we're completely non-profit, and every cent somehow goes to help kids. But we do more than that: we actually go out and adopt these kids into our organization, making them a part of something world-wide...

Now, y'all know about bikers: scratch one, we all bleed... then we all get a lil' pissed. These kids become part of that: hurt one of our kids, we get a mite riled. The kids know this, so they feel safer: safe enough that, in one case, an abused 9 year old flipped the double-bird to her abuser outside the courtroom, right before giving testimony that put the asshat away.

There's more: court appearances, a counseling fund, plans for Camp BACA. But the basic idea is helping these children feel safe...

Check out the link: it explains FAR better than I can. And, if you see one of us, give a smile and say "hello": the person wearing the patch is willing to risk their ass to help a child feel empowered...

Things I've Learned: Marriage

Things I've Learned: Marriage

Over the years, I've learned one or two lil' things about the institution of marriage. Since I seem to play counselor for so many friends, I figured I'd share some...

1) NEVER go to sleep angry. Every time you sleep on anger, you double the problem. A small lack of sleep is FAR easier than divorce proceedings.

2) Regardless of the available space, NEVER put her clothes with yours. While she might be fine stealing what you normally wear, the time WILL come up where you'll be wondering why your underwear feels strange.

3) Tell her you love her... often. Buying her a new Maserati might be worth big points, but those three lil' words, spoken often and with sincerity, are worth more.

4) Do NOT involve friends in your relationship. Unless you're sleeping with another person, THE only folks that need to be involved are you and your spouse: anybody else's judgemental attitude about your relationship is less than worthless, and should be treated as such.

5) Do things both as a couple, and separately. No matter how much you love Cupcake, having her in your back pocket constantly WILL make you want to kill her eventually (and she's probably a better shot, and feeling the same about you). Spend some time apart occasionally.

6) Do lots of little things, just because. 99 cent silk flowers, handed off "'cause you felt like it", will make her feel far better than the dozen long-stemmed roses at Valentine's Day.

7) LISTEN when your partner talks. The absolute worst fights Spoon and I have had have been because one didn't listen to everything the other had said, and the resulting misunderstanding got blown all out of proportion.

And THE most important relationship advice I can give?

8) When the blow-up occurs... do NOT call me. Especially at 3 in the morning. I'll tell whomever does so that they should simply leave the asshat they're with, preferably shooting them in the kneecap on the way out the door

Musings on Mom

Don't know how many of you know: my mother passed away on 13 Oct 03. Obviously, this is not a date I celebrate. This year I've decided to remember her the way she used to be, and share some stories with y'all.

Hopefully, none of these stories will result in her spirit returning to take up her spoon and beat me 'bout the head and shoulders...

Mainly, I remember the lil' things: like getting revenge for the Birthday Incident, or watching her chase a Marine out the door with the above-mentioned spoon. Or the absolute joy she took in Spoon (my wifely unit): she always introduced her as "my favorite daughter", even before we talked about getting married...

She's been gone a couple years now. They say "time will heal", but I gots news: they lie like rugs.

This month though, I'll run through some of the better mom stories...

Afraid of heights?

Gonna plead "lack of writeables" today. So let's jump in the way-back machine, for yet another stroll through water-logged memories...

Ever looked at a modern Naval warship, and noticed WAAAAY up the mast, WAAAAY out on the yardarm, there's lil' propeller-lookin' dealies?

Those're called "wind speed and direction indicators", or "windbirds" in Navy parlance. And maintaining them is the job of the intrepid ICman.

Anyone remember what MY job was on the ship?

So... We're in port, and we have to pull the windbirds down for routine maintenance. It's a REALLY simple procedure:

1) follow tag-out procedure for all the RADAR type stuff up on the mast (unless you like glowing in the dark)

2) put on bungee-jump harness

3) obtain a "ball-breaker" (this is supposed to be a safety device: my testes say otherwise)

4) climb up the mast, and inch your way out the yardarm (hoping the bungee part of the harness works if you fall)

5) tie a rope onto the tail of the windbird in question

6) undo 4 bolts, and lift 'bird off it's post (btw: these things are neither small nor light)

7) lower 'bird down to the deck via rope (ummm... It IS long enough, right?)

8) tape plastic bag over now exposed electrical leads

9) climb down (no,you can't use the bungee function of the harness: I asked)

No big deal, right?

Did I mention that I'm afraid of heights?

Still got to go up though: wasn't just that I was the lowest man on the pole, but I was the least afraid of the aforementioned distance from windbird to deck.

Bloody wimps

Things NOT mentioned in the instructions:

- What to do when your EW buddies think it's funny to rotate the dish just a touch while you're aloft

- The incredible feeling of overbalancing a bit when you break the tape to secure the bag (IC1 thought for sure I was gonna take the express route down)

- Have a one-handed knife for cutting whatever might need it while you're up there (I went street shopping for a switch blade for this exact reason: it's probably STILL wired to that harness)

Things you Do Not Do while aloft:

- Lean out as far as you can, hold out random tool, and shout "Hey Andy, catch this for me!"

- Lean back, wobble a bit, and say " I'm feeling dizzy"

- Start asking your spotters about high-dive records

I went up and down that mast often enough that the height eventually didn't bother me as much (helps to not look down unless giving your spotters a hard time). Even bought a cup to deal with the ball-breaker. And got to see some BEAUTIFUL things (from that high up, the panorama of Singapore is breathtaking).

STILL afraid of heights though...

NEVER let your mother get to know your Skipper

Given the lack of other writable subjects...

I got jumped while in the Nav: walking down the street in San Diego, 5pm on a Sunday, right in front of the courthouse. Felt like someone was behind me, zigged when I shoulda zagged, and *FLASHBULBS*...

Woke up unable to open my eyes (they had crusted shut with blood), and asked three questions: "Where am I? Why am I on the ground? Where are my cigarettes?" (yes... I'm a true smoker)...

Off I go, to Balboa Naval Hospital. They call my Captain, who immediately calls my mother. Mom and dad fly out, at which time they get to meet the Skipper (whom most of us referred to fondly as "Terry")...

Terry was glad to meet my folks, and SERIOUSLY pissed that something had happened to "one of his boys". We're talking about a guy that usually had a Santa hat on his head, and who had ignored the Singapore Port Authority in their order that he not pull in until the next day ("I promised my boys we'd be in Singapore today, and by God we WILL be!"). The unfortunate part of all this is that it gave my mom a chance to meet my Skipper (which brings us to the nasty part)...

The entire time I was in the Nav, I had to call home every day I wasn't at sea: if two days went by without a call, mom got VERY worried. So, around the 18th of Feb (a fairly significant date in my life), I start having trouble getting through: no answer at the house, and NOBODY knows where they are.

That fateful day, after getting cut loose, I wander out to the Exchange (needed to check the ATM: was supposed to have somebody paying me some money direct to my account, which they hadn't). Start walking back to the ship (my roomie had my car, and hadn't made it in yet (NEVER trust a Marine with your wheels). And about halfway there, I get a page: the number for DC Central. Ok... I'm heading back to the ship (roughly two mile walk)... I'll see what they want when I get there. Make it down to roughly a half-mile when my beeper starts yelling again: DCC again, with a 911 prefix...

Maybe I over-react to some things. When I saw that prefix, THE only thought was that something had gone DRASTICALLY wrong, and I needed to immediately discover the mechanics of personal teleportation. I blew past the pier guard so fast they barely saw that I was holding SOMETHING out for them to see: only reason I didn't get clobbered was I was moving too fast. Up the gangway, past the quarter-deck, and down the stairs to DCC. Where I'm calmly told to change into dungarees...

Calmly... that set off some alarms. You don't 911 someone, and then act calm when they're present: "911" means "oh, shit... we're DYING!!!".

I change, and head up to the shop (as I was told). My DivO (Mr Bittle: nice guy, normally) comes in and tells me I've been implicated in a case before the Captain, and they wanted me back to testify. Which was kinda conceivable: although I hadn't written any checks on my account, I DID know the guy that was at Mast...


Let's review fer a sec: haven't been able to track down the parental units, money that I SHOULD have hasn't appeared yet, my roomie is gawds know where with my car, and now I'm supposedly in trouble with the Captain about checks that I couldn't have written.

I light a smoke: about the time I get halfway through it, we receive The Call: Send ICFN Strings up. I look at Brad (DivO), and try to calmly finish my smoke: the shaking doesn't help the illusion of an innocent man any. So we troop our way up to Officer Territory, and the Captain's Stateroom. I walk through the door, to see the Captain sitting at his desk (lookin' fairly stern), a lil' half-wall behind him, kinda partitioning off his personal dinner table...

Captain: "Strings: you've been accused of writing some bad checks by your friend. He's already been sentenced, but we need to clarify your involvement"

Me: "Ok Sir: what do I need to do?"

Capt: "well... have you written any bad checks lately?"

Me: "No Sir. I haven't written ANY checks lately."

Capt: "well... the ones you're supposed to have written are over there on the table: take a look, and tell me they aren't yours"

I walk around the little divider...











And see may parents, grinning, as dad points and says "GOTCHA!"

Seems mom had charmed the Skipper, and wanted to get aboard to surprise me for my birthday. Terry (being Terry) had suggested going one better...

I was told later that the entirety of my Division was outside that door, to keep me from walking out...

Another tale from the Pacific...

Seeing as I have nothing else to talk about...

Sailors drink... some, quite heavily. When folks drink, they sometimes do... strange things. Sailors, sad to say, are no exception to that rule...

Come staggering down the ladder after a midwatch, wanting nothing more than to bury my head in my pillow, and hear a VERY loud *CLANG!* from the next compartment over. I REALLY don't want to know... it's full of pit boys, SERIOUS snipe territory. They're all big and hairy and...

"What inna HELL was that?" I ask, sticking my head through the door. And the sight that greeted me was three BTs, holding back a fourth from... well... the wall.

That clang? Oh... number four had punched the wall after a verbal altercation (with said wall). I asked one of the three about it, and the response STILL makes me giggle: "I dunno, man. I think it (the wall) said sumthin' 'bout his mother"...

BTs... *sigh*

What good's a sailor...

... without some sea stories?

Glad you asked... ;)

I was on the USS Duluth for awhile, as an IC tech. Putting me in "E" Division, which was full of some seriously twisted individuals...

So... we're on WestPac, and pull into Hong Kong. This was before it reverted to the Chinese. While there, we took on stores for the trip home. What I hadn't thought much about was the fact that our berthing compartment was right above the Dry Stores room: so, anything headin' that way essentially went through our bedroom...

I go out that night, and come back around midnight or so. To find most of the EMs on the ship giggling like lil' girls, just outside the door to my rack space. Being the curious type, I have to ask... "So... what's gotten into you lot?"

"Dude... you HAVE to check out Jamie... it's funny... just take a look"...

Now Jamie was one of the PO3s of the EM shop, and someone I held in some respect: respect that would grow when I got back to the States, as he took his own time to head to the hospital when I got jumped (making sure it was a friendly and familiar voice I heard when I woke up). And his rack was two above mine. So I open the door, slide back the privacy curtains (expecting what, I'm not sure)...

During the ontake of ship's stores, some lazy slug had left a 50lb burlap sack of rice sitting in our compartment. Jamie was fairly drunk, and his fellow EMs thought it would be cute to give him a "friend" in his bunk that night. Not sure WHAT the boy was dreamin' about, but he was makin' love to that burlap sack like she was Ms Universe.

I shook my head and went to sleep. Woke up the next morning to find 50lbs of rice sitting in the walkway between the racks. NOBODY from "E" Division would eat rice the rest of the trip: didn't want the extra protein supplement...

Looking at Sitemeter...

So I take a gander at Sitemeter, and what do I see but a link for "Recent Visitors by World Map". Of course, being the egotist that I am, I check it, and see the above. And I have just one question: who the heck is reading me from Zambia and Finland? Speak up, folks: y'all got my curiosity aroused!

the world produces better idiots...

This post over at Boobs, Injuries, and Dr Pepper reminded me of an overheard conversation here the other day. The roomies had some friends over, and were (apparently) talking about kids and folks hang-ups about them. The overheard comment? "Yeah: the entire female side of her family thinks breast-feeding is unnatural"...

I pop through the door, absolutely incredulous: "Y'all said WHAT?!?". Much laughter ensues "Yeah... Strings heard "breast" and had to find out more. Heh, heh, heh"...

But yes... I had heard rightly. Seems this young lass of my roomies' acquaintance has a long string of female ancestors who believe Gog the cavewoman had a Playtex nurser to feed Oog. They had some other beautiful beliefs: her mother asserts that she doesn't defecate (ever), as it's not lady-like (not even gonna START on that one)...

Of course, there are a number of folks (or were, when I was around 6) still telling their daughters "You get pregnant by kissing boys". A statement that completely ignores the predatory nature of the adolescent male: while the logic of "if they don't kiss, they won't get worked up and go farther" looks good on paper, it doesn't translate well to real life. Witness what happened to one friend of my sister, where the exchange (I was present, don't remember why) went like this:

Daughter: "Mom... I'm pregnant"
Mom: "HOW?!?! Didn't I tell you..."
D: "But mom... I never kissed a boy! All I did was let them..."

Don't think I need to go any farther into that one: mother there was stunned, and sis and I were asked to leave rather abruptly...


Bedlamite is fond of the saying "Make something idiot-proof, and the world will produce a better idiot". Personally, I think the world just keeps "improving" 'em, on the off chance we might try to proof something against 'em...

What's up with that title?

Well... since Law Dog decided to mention me, I'd better post sumthin' new...

Some of y'all might wonder about the title of this silly thing: I'm a member of a pirate's guild at the local Ren Faire, and our guild was granted "charter" by the "queen": if this WERE actually Elizibeth's England, that would (technically) make us "privateers"...

What does this mean in real life? Not much... we get together occassionally, and terrorize a bar in Milwaukee (if you're in the area, Fitzgibbon's is a nice place). Hang out at Faire, have a party now and then.

But it gives me a cute title for my blog...

... and I'd like to thank...

Well now. Go to read through my normal nightly blogs, and see Law Dog has posted a link to me... lil' ol' me... as a "blog of note"...

YA HOOOOOOOO!!! 'DOG GAVE ME A BOOST!!!!!!!

Ok... I'm better now...

Thanks Law Dog: you just made my day!

News from foreign parts

Well... looks like Lil' Dick got hisself re-elected in Chi-town...

Mom used to work for the City of Chicago as a secretary (this was before she met Dad). Worked for Old Man Daley. And she met Lil' Dick... who she REALLY wanted to push down the stairs a few times. Huh... Mom could've saved all of Illinois, had she followed her heart. Let that be a lesson to y'all: when your heart says "push the pompus lil' twit down the stairs", maybe following that advice will save someone a bit of headache.

weathermen. Meh!

So... went to Milwaukee, to deliver some things Squeeker forgot last time she was here, and hoping to sell some fund-raiser books for our BACA Chapter. Just before leaving, the weatherman says "severe winter storm warning"...

Wow... we had a lil' bit of rain, couple places where there was an inch or so of snow on the road, and that's it. Ma Nature better dump a couple feet on us soon, or I'm gonna be REALLY disappointed...

Old Marines

Via LawDog and Marko:


Not gonna rehash the entire story here: group of elderly tourists gets accosted in Costa Rica, and one 70 year old gentleman fights back, bare hands against a gun. Old man wins. Reminds me of Mom, back in the day...

So tell me: why is it I hear SO many folks not able to defend themselves? Why are so many willing to roll over to thugs? And someone compare the above story with this (again thanks to LawDog)...

Attempt to mug a vacationing senior citizen, get dead. Attack three college boys in their own home, and get to return for round two. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over?

Just remembered...

Oh yeah... forgot I had a blog!

Dad's doin' ok: slight case of pnuemonia, but pluggin' right along. With any luck, he and I will be seeing my adopted brother Turk this weekend: being a lawyer in Chicago, we haven't seen him in ages. Maybe take the Old Man out, and let him beat on Turk at pool for awhile...

To the 5 of you reading this: I'll try to post more regularly. Oh... in the meantime, you MIGHT want to get lives! ;)

Cruising the blogs

Found on Tamara's blog : How Misanthropic are You?

Guess I'm not as evil:

You Are 67% Misanthropic

Here's the truth: Most people suck. You are just lucky enough to know it. You're not ready to go live alone in a cave - but you're getting there.

How Misanthropic Are You?

Gee Tam, you win!

And the Old Man's back...

Picked Dad up at the Appleton airport last Tuesday: other than the TSA lady being a twit (the guy could barely move, but heavens forbid I should be allowed to step forward 20 feet to help him!), things went fairly smoothly. We settled in to wait for his luggage, and his first comment was "you look like a hoodlum!"

Ah yes... the bitter-sweet reunion of two people who express affection for each-other by doing their level best to knife each-other in the back!

He's now settled in at mom-in-law's (which is good: I can escape him when needed). And it looks like he might even recover from his ailments: he's got COPD, an infection in the right lower lobe of his lung, and an aneurysm under his stomach. He thinks the aneurysm is causing the shortness of breath (pushing up against the diaphragm, reducing lung capacity): I hope so, as that means he'll head back to the Land of Smiles and live for awhile more...

Took him out for a couple games of pool: I've been shooting better lately, and thought I might actually have a snowball's chance. Not bloody likely: I immediately reverted to the same five-year-old that could shoot a called shot to save his soul. And baldy thinks it's funny...

So... we go to see the doc Wednesday about his surgery: I'll probably post again after we know more. Hope all twelve of you can stand the suspense!

Kitten: revisited

Remember the kitten from a few days ago, who conspired with my momentary stupidity to cost me a rather nice folding knife?

Well, we was delivered to his new mommy saturday. I was actually afraid that he'd spent too much time with me, and bonded: I still hope he has some nice thoughts of the time he spent in our care. But he KNEW who mommy was immediately. Pics to follow in the next day or two...

Bad news... sometimes life just sucks...

Yep... just got a visit from my mom-in-law. Now, I like my mom-in-law... she's a really neat lady, someone I taught shooting, someone I'm happy to call family. And usually, someone I like talking to...

So she calls, and tells me she needs to talk to Spoon and I. My brain starts running through all the mistakes I've made, all the problems we've had over the last couple years: what does my mom-in-law need to talk to me about that she can't say over the phone?

Now, some of you may know that my old man went ex-pat to Thailand when mom died. His health has been failing the last year or so, and I've kinda been expecting a call from his friends there ("hi. You don't know me, but I was a friend of your father here in Thailand. He's dead now. Have a nice day!")...

Un huh... dad's been given 3-4 weeks to live, and wants to come home. This after no sleep, and personal troubles the last couple months.

Ever wanted to pick a fight with God, just to let out some agression? That's where I am now. Anybody know what bar he hangs out at, let me know: I got a few bones to pick...