A Few Questions

She said a lot there, but everyone is asking the same things here in the United States.

What I’m getting from this is disturbing because it seems that nobody knows what the U.S. is allowed to do, what our constitution provides for or forbids, what the UCMJ allows or what constitutes criminal actions, and equally important, what international law says about combat actions in international water during peacetime. Especially against civilians.

I’ll let you in on something really messed up: there are no countries that are allowed to do this. It could constitute a war crime, but there is no war, so these horrors are crimes against humanity, and terrorism; Murder and the threat of more. Except, I don’t understand why it’s happening if Trump just pardoned Juan Hernandez, former president of Honduras, who was convicted of trafficking cocaine into the United States by the ton.

How in perdition does that make any sense?

Answer: it doesn’t.

I honestly knew nothing about the 2 September incident in which the so-called “double tap” strike took place until mere days ago.

I’ll tell you my take as a Christian first: I believe the “first strike” to be immoral. Killing is immoral. My renewed faith has no room for arguing this point. Defense against an aggressor in a declared war is one thing; this is nothing similar at all. Jesus never said to go forth and kill and then pretend it never happened. Killing and lying are not just sins, but they go against the conscience most people are inherently equipped with.

So too, Pete Hegseth proved to be a coward, speaking boldly, indeed arrogantly, and then lying to cover himself from any fallout. Which he’s finally getting anyway.

FAKE NEWS

This is something we all have to contend with. It’s a problem because, first of all, some people like to disseminate lies. Secondly, propaganda is effective. Hitler had a dedicated propaganda minister, and the Allied resistance countered Nazi propaganda with outrageously funny and equally effective stunts through the use of radio and printed material. The underground was often connected between occupied countries and those involved risked their lives in their own fight against Nazis.

The Resistance against Nazi Germany was often funny, and one case in particular taught the Kriegsmarine in Norway an unforgettable lesson. Germany had confiscated the entire country’s catch of sardines because canned food lasted longer on U-boat sorties. U-boats were hot, cramped, and they went on long “Wolpack” patrols across the Atlantic to sink Allied escorts and troop ships, but also to stem the unbelievable flow of planes, tanks and a staggering amount of food, medical supplies, uniforms and blankets, a never-ending amount of ships, and while the Germans, including armored cavalry, pilots, and infantry, had been told that the U.S. military was weak and could never outfight Aryans, the Kriegsmarine knew better. Not only could they not stop the shipping, but the Americans became much more efficient at detecting and damaging or sinking their subs. It became necessary for the Nazi armed forces to take drastic measures. Occupied countries had crops and meat confiscated. Troops were resorting to horses and carts for transportation of troops and supplies, and horses were used to pull artillery, some of which were very antiquated pieces from World War One. Combat photography and film footage proves all of this, and perhaps there was a time when they may have prevailed except that Operation Barbarossa had already beaten them. It is the judgement of many scholars that it was inevitable; invading the Soviet Union was a dreadful move. By the time of the flight back to German territory, retreat and surrender was no longer worthy of discussion. Men froze to death lying on their backs, some with an arm bent upward. And the entire war was like that. By the time the U.S. sent its military to engage Germany, it sealed the deal.

The taking of food and even linen for bandages in Nazi-occupied Europe forced the citizens into serious resistance tactics. Men and women alike fought. But in Norway….all of their sardines?

This was too much for Norwegians to take. Fuming, they contacted Allies and ordered a lot of croton oil. They canned the tiny fish with this oil, which is a rather “violent” laxative. In other words, U-boat crews on submarines that had a single toilet were taken out of action and couldn’t return to port fast enough. The interior of the U-boats were wall to wall diarrheic disasters, their men severely dehydrated. There is no mention I could find on the vessel’s turnaround time, but if it took a week, and the crew had to be replaced, then it took the boat out of action and plausibly saved at least some Allied shipping across the Atlantic. The story spread throughout the underground and the Maquis made sure that everyone got the news. The O.S.S. and British agents were probably rolling around on their office floors, stomachs cramped as badly as a German submariner’s, but for a different reason: they were laughing.

When properly coordinated, propaganda is effective. You just can’t overdo it because that’s when the resistance begins.

Today, however, the Trump administration is constantly putting out senseless, uncoordinated and often contradictory fake news, and that alone is funny, yet people are dying. Many more are suffering.

And here’s the thing: sure, this administration is all for cutting out all healthcare even as Trump’s mouth spits lies about healthcare reform. Which, it turns out, would result in a lot of deaths. And this is not World War Two.

But a new Holocaust? Can that happen?

This is all about deporting arbitrary people to other countries, mostly under the assumption that they’re illegal aliens, despite being naturalized and even U.S.-born citizens.

A senator who just loves deportations recently wrote on social media how thankful he is that his parents brought him to the United States (!).

This administration is full of hypocrisy and lies, and it’s so stupid that, if people weren’t suffering and dying, it would be hilarious. One funny thing is a senator introducing a bill which, if passed, would see Melania Trump deported, her dual citizenship cancelled. I tell you, it boggles the mind.

But as I’ve said, people are dying. And the suffering is getting more widespread. Very few things are funny.

I misread, or actually did read, something about a foreign leader being transferred to the Hague and the ICC to face charges of crimes against humanity. It’s likely that I crossed stories, but at first I thought a foreign leader had been detained for the same things as our Navy attacking boats for trafficking drugs.

Actually it was a Libyan official who ran a prison in which he encouraged atrocities including various manner of torture including murder, rape, extreme violence and more. The U.S. and Germany protested, but the ICC overruled them. Knowing nothing further, I can only guess that “illegal aliens” sent to Libya and El Salvador were supposed to undergo such acts and conditions.

Doing so constitutes multiple crimes against humanity under the Trump administration. ICE is allowed to wear masks and vests and be heavily armed and freely roam like Nazi SS and Gestapo men, taking prisoners. ICE agents are feared, but more than anything, they are bitterly hated, and a reckoning is coming.

Even now, as I think about it, I get sick in my body and spirit. Is there really no limit to the evil this administration willingly plans and then commits?

Media like NewsMax and Fox are just as immoral, eagerly egging the administration on and heaping praise on a band of criminals with outrageous lies that defy belief that anyone could be so dishonest as to utter them. Propaganda used to manipulate the public. No matter how stupid, they all spit it out.

NewsMax even put out a poll saying the Fox News reported that Trump had a very low approval percentage. NewsMax wanted to prove them wrong. They’re fighting each other!

No one knows how many families have been separated or how many children have been sent to God-knows-where, or trafficked. Yes, who in this administration would have a problem with that, given how the Federal Bureau of Investigation, once legendary, has worked overtime scrubbing and redacting the material in the so-called “Epstein Files?”

It’s been claimed that the redactions are to conceal the names of victims, and I hope it’s true, but wait! If our military shoots people clinging to a wrecked boat, is it so farfetched to think that the Feds would cook the books to exonerate Trump?

You know what war crimes and crimes against humanity look like. You know what “ethnic cleansing” looks like. Now comes my question:

Are you really supportive of this kind of inhumanity? Or do you condemn these things?

The answer, that’s for you. It isn’t for me. Because if this goes on, it will get worse. I saw the video of the boat. It looked like a small open boat to me, and watching it explode sickened me. You want more? Or are you willing to stand for what’s right, risking your life to speak against evil?

And one more question. If you are in any branch of the military of the United States, and you receive an order to do something you know is illegal, how will you respond?

How will history, and God, judge you? You can’t get away. Everyone will know. Is “I was just following orders” a good enough excuse, like most Wermacht, Luftwaffe, and Kriegsmarine claimed after VE Day? Right up to the minute they were imprisoned or executed?

It’s up to you.

Fifty Years Ago: The Prelude To A Bush War You Never Heard Of

For Kid

Thanks for reminding me.

Dick Snider was a cop with a good heart. Well, that was back then. Today cops get more negative press than ever, and YouTube videos don’t always help much.

In Arkansas, fleeing from the State Police in a car can easily end up in your death. Usually it just ends with a wrecked stolen car and a Walmart shoplifter crawling out from under something that doesn’t even resemble a car, but used to, the driver bruised, cut or worse, but the severity of the crime and the condition of the driver make no difference; they could have a severed arm and they would still be cuffed.

If it appears by YouTube videos that no cop in the ASP has a heart, then it must be true.

Of course it isn’t, but it’s unfair how judgements can be made with so few facts. And perhaps I have seen unjustified shootings, and maybe a PIT maneuver was done wrong, resulting in the fleeing driver’s death plus collateral damage, even involving critical wounds to innocent civilians. That doesn’t make police officers evil. It makes them human. Only once did I learn of an officer being criminally charged in a pursuit, and I don’t know what happened to him.

Cops go through things no video can truly convey to a viewer the lifelong trauma that results. You see it, but you weren’t there. You felt only what any other observer did. That’s a happy circumstance for you and me, but the officer or trooper will, should they survive, recover from wounds, get cleared to return to duty, or leave the force, carry nightmares, both waking and not, until the day they die.

In 1975, there were things going on that some cops knew about, but were either indifferent to or helpless to stop.

Officially, there is no source for crime statistics, but what you hear or read about today is a very old human crisis.

Back then, people in Mexico heard stories of plenty in the land of “El Norte,” and poverty stimulates dreams into motivation. The United States had work. Places to live for those who worked hard. It had food, lots of it, and more. Some tried to legally immigrate and some, most perhaps, were turned away.

Thus we have illegal crossings, and what most Americans got to know about it was that the crossers were just criminals.

Aside from the attempt to cross the border illegally, there were very few criminals. But before they could get to the United States, they faced dangers far worse than deportation or prosecution.

The U.S. and Mexico border is about 2,000 miles of land and sea, and every mile of that border has a different danger to challenge even the most determined soul.

There are vast amounts of desert, some mountains, even sea and rivers to be reckoned with. From Sonora, it may seem like there are plenty of places to cross, but many chose the route across Baja into San Diego.

There were reasons for this. One was that the lands south of San Diego were too treacherous for the federales, bringing up the second reason, which was the aid of polleros, or coyotes, men who would “guide” border crossers to their destination, which invariably meant “Los,” or Los Angeles, via San Diego.

That’s where a San Diego Police Department lieutenant named Dick Snider comes in. He witnessed multiple crimes against women and children and was helpless to do anything to stop them. Sometimes lying on a hill, looking out over the canyons south of the city, he used binoculars and saw the guides beat, rob, and abandon those who paid them, usually with their last pennies.

For the record, a Mexican under a guide was called a pollo, which translates as a “chicken,” because various trucks were often used in border crossings. But the polleros weren’t always in trucks and some never really planned on doing what they were paid for.

Snider was morally offended by what he saw. He was outraged to the point where he couldn’t keep silent and asked for permission from his supervisors to take action. When he finally got it in 1976, a task force was created and he did the initial recruiting: all officers had to be of Latino descent. The members would be trained in military combat tactics and clothed in camouflage uniforms.

That was a good idea followed by a bad one.

The idea of the task force was sound. The choice of clothing failed.

As the members were training, Dick Snider was frustrated, but hopeful that the men chosen would make a difference.

The result was the “Border Area Robbery Force,” which came to be known only by its acronym, “BARF”, and from October 1976 to 1978, the squad learned some good and some awful things.

First, the canyon was dark. Getting one’s night vision was a process, and at first the bad guys were at an advantage. Working at night, they were able to see targets but on their approach, their camouflage chased the banditos away before BARF could engage them.

Lesson learned, they became exactly what they were up against. Their hair grew. They had unshaven faces. They bought clothes from secondhand shops like those worn by the pollos. They went out, sometimes without bathing, and successfully infiltrated the hapless pollos and made history.

But there had to be rules, and the sergeant, Manny Lopez, decided that among the innocent people and the bandits, there in the darkness, the frantic scramble to tell which was a bandit and which was a pollo was a dangerous time. A time that offered nothing but danger. He needed a way to communicate to his men who the targets were and when to act.

Lopez, who could terrify his own men when one of his eyebrows climbed his forehead and became a question mark, would say, ¿Sabes que? That was a signal to get ready, because something was about to go down. The eyebrow was a sign that his temper had maxed.

Nerves screwed tight, adrenaline flowing, they waited. The codeword to take action was ironic: “¡BARF!”

The bandits did not, at first, stand a chance. Unprepared for pollos who carried guns and actually fired them was terrifying. It was like seeing men turn into werewolves, it was that fantastic.

Arrests were made. Shootings, then full-blown firefights occurred. Three of the squad sustained gunshot wounds.

Eventually, as they squatted in the darkness, submissive, as pollos did, they were approached directly by the polleros who would try to rob them. There were initial negotiations concerning taking them to Los, but they knew it was a setup. Manny would say, “¿Sabes que?” And then “BARF!” and all hell would break loose.

It was inevitable then, that the robbers would change tactics. One night one of them was asked for a “pisto” or money, and the barfer replied by answering with a gesture, a name for a drink, which was incorrect; pisto is from south of Mexico. The bandit was asking for money, and now he was suspicious. The bandit wasn’t stupid.

Sometimes it depends on location as to the meaning of a Spanish word. For example, pollo can mean a cute person or a child, which in the latter case would change from pollo to polla depending on gender, the one ending in a being feminine. This is the same as La or El, as in la leche being feminine because it is milk, or El Gordo, The fat man.

The man who caught the mistake of the pisto was not stupid, and certainly not a genius. He just happened to know the difference.

One night, a terrible night, two Tijuana cops stood at the border fence, then came through. They were known to drag canyon crawlers back to their side of the fence, but on this night, they held Lopez in an armed standoff. One of the Mexican officers fired.

What happened next was an outrageous firefight between hundreds of Tijuana officers and any backup the BARF team called in.

It caused an international incident, but that went semi-resolved and BARF kept doing what it did.

But one cannot endure the darkness, rattlesnakes, loose rocks and gunfire without a dear price. Off duty, they drank. Hard. They didn’t go home. Lopez warned them that they had to go home.

Some had affairs. And later, when Joe Wambaugh, a bestselling author who had written books like The Blue Night, The Onion Field and The Choirboys began to interview the now-disbanded BARF members, he violated a rule that was inviolable amongst brother officers. He wrote about the affairs and drinking. When his book Lines and Shadows was published, it chronicled everything he knew. And it was a bestseller. It’s a genuinely great read and I recommend it, but the BARFers hated it and him. Carlos Chacon swore he never read the entire book, and said clearly in an interview that Wambaugh wasn’t out there, and if he had been, he would have been beaten to a pulp. Marriages broke up because of him.

Initially, the BARF members hated the book.

Wambaugh stated that when he interviewed the men, it was obvious that they were suffering from PTSD. They had faced shadows moving in the canyons, but had not faced the shadows that chased their souls in nightmares.

In time, most of the Border Area Robbery Force took pride in the book. It proved that they had made a difference when no one else could or would. In places east of that canyon, there were no agents or officers concerned about the plight of the pollos.

Today, they’re legends who Wambaugh called “the last of the gunslingers.”

One night…and I warn you, this is disturbing and was all too common, the squad stopped the rape of a minor who was with her family. Women were often sexually assaulted along with their children. Men who lived all their lives by the code of machismo were helpless before men with guns. They were shot or they saw their family hurt. Everyone got hurt. On this particular night, the male pollos did not help Rosetta, or her daughter, Esther. One ran. The others squatted in terror. That’s until a vicious fight broke out between Manny Lopez, a Border Patrol agent, and a la migra, or immigration officer. The mother and daughter were saved. Rosetta cried and kissed Manny’s hand, and thanked God for a miracle. She never stopped believing that a miracle had happened because just as she finished demanding that God has to save her daughter, Lopez appeared.

One of the would-be rapists was arrested; the rest made it back to Tijuana.

Their adventures would get worse, much worse. They maintained that whatever they went through, it was worth it. In 1978, police chief Kolender decided that it was dangerous and that the banditos had become hip to the BARF squad’s tactics. There was a definite decline in crime, but what’s more is, the robbers were out there in the dark now, waiting for them. It was over for BARF.

Of course, the pollos kept coming, and as soon as everyone guessed that they were gone, crime went sharply up.

But for a moment, just a small amount of time, they had heroes who saved them. All because one man, a lieutenant who was a gringo, wore his heart on his sleeve and sold the conviction that the pollos were human beings who deserved protection. Dignity. Human rights. People who Destiny had no right to kill.

The men were brave, there’s no doubt about it. They also cared about the people being robbed and violated just as much as Dick Snider cared.

And so they made a difference. Crime statistics shrank. Bandits stopped crossing the border and simply committed their crimes in Tijuana. Manny Lopez was so infuriated that at least once, he ordered his squad to go through the fence.

In the canyon, the firefights grew more intense. By 1978, the chief knew that it was too dangerous to send men back out there, and shut BARF down.

Aftermath

Crime in the canyons soon returned with a vengeance. No one that I can find ever tried such an action again, and right now, pollos face murder, sexual assault, human trafficking and forced labor when cartels intercept them, and inhumane conditions in camps once they do cross but are caught by ICE.

Here, hatred is and always has been heaped on them, an unbearable weight, an unfair price to pay for simply wanting a better life.

The Border Area Robbery Force made 300 arrests, were involved in 10 shootings and six major firefights and three officers were wounded by gunfire. Yet we will never know how many lives were saved. If the number stood at only one, they would still have done it. The sacrifice was great but the cause was greater. That’s what cops stand for: the greater good.

The pollos had a plan. They wore two sets of clothing: one for the journey and one underneath for job interviews.

Would you be courageous enough to do that?

The BARF team were bitter, mostly about Manny Lopez getting all the press and interviews while nobody else knew their names. They all parted in less than amicable ways, haunted, yet still proud of everything they had accomplished and endured.

“¿Sabes que?”

“BARF!”

Remember: hate should have no place here. If you remember, act like you know you should with mercy, love, friendship and all of the kindness and respect others deserve.

Current status, immigrants and border:

ICE continues with illegal seizures and deportations. Crime in the canyons still happens.

“Madness, Howling at the Moon.”

In the following video, which I’d really like you to watch even if it’s difficult, or maybe especially because it’s difficult, you’re going to see something special: two women, a mother and her daughter, manage to combine to make it as subjects absolutely nobody could feel sorry for.

Well, except for a few folks who may do so out of a cultish, weird unity sort of way.

The two are in the lobby of one of the Four Seasons hotels, but I don’t know the location. It could be Florida or Southern California because it doesn’t look very cold for February.

The women are in the lobby and it never becomes clear exactly why, but police arrive to handle a phoned-in complaint. The management wants them gone. Apparently, they were too drunk to find their correct room, and then it went downhill from there.

What is interesting here is that when asked by the first responding officer to go outside to talk, a scene begins, one everyone should hope never to see in person, and more, should hope never to be a part of.

It’s not long after going outside that politics get thrown at the officer.

As stunning as that is, what makes it worse is that both are equally nasty but the mother quickly proves herself to have left her brain on the counter at a pub somewhere. I mean, she is hammered.

The first political reference comes near the seven minute mark from the daughter, who angrily says something accusatory about the staff being “liberals.” I’m thinking, What? But I heard it. It even shows up in the transcript, and we all know how messy those get.

It gets even more weird when the mother asks why she’s being persecuted so: “Is it because I’m a Trumper?” and, “Are you Trump?”

The second reference is meant as, “Who the hell do you think you are, Donald Trump?”

As if only Trump could arrest her. That’s just bizarre.

But wait! It’s far from over. Both of them scream and kick while being handcuffed. Not like the usual entitled Karen; (I sincerely apologize for this unfortunate reference, but find myself at a loss to find a more suitable one) the usual Karens are a handful; obnoxious and dangerous.

These two are far too drunk to be a threat to the officers that show up as backup. But they’re babies, foul-mouthed and with a bottomless well of energy (I warn you not to use headphones to watch this video) and they never cease yelling unintelligibly and shrieking like a couple of banshees on crack ‘n crank. Well into their lockup stays, the din continues, with the mother kicking the bars of the cell.

The takeaway is this: as early as last February, these two turned the Trump name into a reason for their being kicked out of the hotel and for their subsequent arrests. That’s just crazy. For one, because it’s eerie, as if they knew he would win the election even though Biden was still in the race and ran a good chance of winning, and secondly, it’s apparent that even drunk, they’re showing their Trump cult colors.

A third thing to be learned here is that the only thing worse than a Karen is a drunk Karen.

Don’t fret: Chads are the same way. If I see anything worth sharing, I will do so.

This video came out on inauguration day. Clearly, someone saw the need to post it. Perhaps it’s because Trump just pardoned some cop-killers. That was a big mistake. These Karens may be bad, but the man they worship is far worse. You don’t spit on police and peace officers like that. It’s just fucked up. It is madness, howling at the moon.

This Correction Doesn’t Mean Anything To Me. The WWE Is Still A Full Septic Tank, Overflowing In The Summer Sun.

I’ve seen so many takes on the ongoing-but really just getting started-soap opera of Vince McMahon that I have to make a correction: apparently McMahon lived in the same building as Janel Grant’s parents. That goes completely off the rails from earlier reports of a house they lived in. It means that Janel was not unknown to McMahon at all, and the story of someone in the WWE telling him her story of loss didn’t happen. That would blow my theory of his grooming her as some vulnerable waif prime for exploitation out of the water.

But isn’t it strange that nobody making money off Patreon-fueled videos or websites for “entertainment news” has ever been in such a situation? More importantly, they have never been groomed by a cult leader before and certainly never made it to the status of cult member?

These people may mean well. But they’re making mistakes and actually could affect public opinion against Grant, which is already showing signs of being fanned. That’s bad. In a civil trial by jury against WWE/TKO, she would have some support in the court of public opinion, which by no means is a small thing.

Then, too, there’s the problem of a federal criminal investigation, which can halt the entire process as it must take precedence. This is a snowball rolling down a mountain, like an old cartoon.

At the core right now is a series of texts between Grant and McMahon. Hers reportedly showed lurid, long, and then graphic garbage alleged to have been sent by him to her, texts she responded to with equal amounts of astoundingly graphic content. She’s already being judged for it, too. Kevin Nash is defending McMahon and said that he had never known Vince to write like that. Well, Kevin, I’m sure glad for your two cents’ worth, and fuck you very much. You apparently came from a time before texting and were slow to get into it. Also apparent is that you’re not a woman and not an object of his lust and preferences. You know what I think, Kev? I think you’re being paid. That’s going to come back on you. It will. You should go back home and play video games.

I’m not going to attack or accuse Janel Grant of anything. It looks very much like the WWF and WWE under Vince McMahon was a bona-fide cult. Grant was given a job. One that could keep her off the streets. In exchange, she was unaware but still conditioned to be dependent. It’s the most common element of all cults: dependency and the unreasonable fear of being abandoned and ending up on the streets. All cults use it. Among mental illnesses, there are doctors who deem themselves gods and who want personality disorders removed from the “Bible of mental disorders.” But that’s because of two things: insurance companies, and learned behavior and how difficult it is to treat. For many, like myself, treatment has lasted decades, and I’m still dreadfully affected. Some things… just don’t go gently into that dark night. Some hurts never heal. Some things can’t be fixed.

With me, 20 years of being told I was nothing without him, that I would die on the streets without him, made me believe that I was stupid, and my father had me. I was nothing without him. And every time I got away from him, I failed. I had to go back.

Being back under his control but getting a steady paycheck, I’d follow his every command. It was normal to work 18-20 hour days. It was normal to have to do too much, and a lot of it was stuff nobody else would do. All because I was scared of being on my own. Scared of dying out there on the streets, a fate he’d been predicting since I was too young to consider that he was using abandonment as a threat, which to a kid means simply, death. They don’t understand death. But they know they’ll be alone, cold, hungry. Hated by their own family.

I submit that his reinforcement with religion further terrified both myself and siblings, rendering all of us fucked up. We’re largely estranged now, but I’ll still jump at the chance to see my nephews and nieces, two brothers, and one sister, all of whom I adore. The rest are not my enemies, though I’ve maligned them horribly in the past. I do love them, but a reunion with them is out of the question. Neither they nor I wish it. But after time, I just can’t hate anymore.

I further posit that men and women who have never been in Ms. Grant’s shoes don’t know what it’s like to be that victimized, dependent, and brainwashed. Therefore, they cannot presume to judge her. As an example, I’m going to use a few simple lines from the classic film “The Caine Mutiny,” starring Humphrey Bogart, Van Heflin, Fred McMurray and José Ferrer.

Doctor Dickson: If I may speak, sir, I would like to protest the counsel’s twisting of words. There’s a big difference between real mental illness and minor mental disturbances.
Barney Greenwald: Let me put it this way, doctor: could Captain Queeg have been disabled by the severe stain of command?
Doctor Dickson: That’s absurdly hypothetical.
Barney Greenwald: Is it? Have you ever had any sea duty, doctor?
Doctor Dickson: No.
Barney Greenwald: Have you ever been at sea?
Doctor Dickson: No.
Barney Greenwald: How long have you been in the Navy?
Doctor Dickson: Five months.
Barney Greenwald: Have you ever had any dealings with ship’s captains before this case?
Doctor Dickson: No.
Barney Greenwald: Then I suggest that you cannot set yourself up as an authority on the strain of command, and thus you may be completely wrong about Captain Queeg.
[to the prosecutor]
Barney Greenwald: Your witness

In other words, those who talk but don’t know should shut up.

This will play out however circumstances allow, and we can’t see that now. I’ve never been to a wrestling show, and I’ve never spoken with Vince McMahon. I have, however, been in very close proximity to him. I can only sense good folks by failing to sense extreme anger, jealousy, hatred, and other negative things. I knew who he was the second our eyes made contact. I also felt a steady sense of danger and shocking evil in the man, and his stare was withering. I know what he is because I grew up with a father just like him. I could sense his evil because I’d had to learn to do so while surviving every day with a violent, sociopathic man who was more concerned with power and image than he was for the normal growth and development of his own children. They were so much alike that it froze me. I can never forget it.

To prove just how concerned with image McMahon was, when Ashley returned from the WWE visit to the troops overseas and reported that she had been raped and sodomized, he told her it wouldn’t be good for the WWE if word of the incident were made public. He said to her, “Let’s not let one bad experience ruin the good that we’re doing,” and added that it would damage the relationship between the WWE and the US military.

One bad experience?

REALLY?

“One bad experience” is what he actually called it and this proves that he is a sociopath with no capacity for sympathy, no ability to act on right and wrong, even if he knew the difference. And Asley eventually took her own life. Neither McMahon nor the WWE’s board ever offered her counseling or any other kind of crisis intervention. They never do that. Wrestlers are private contractors who are ineligible for any healthcare benefits. Ashley was no different. Other ex-female “contractors” or, if you will, “Divas,” are already coming back from retirement to haunt McMahon. As well they should. Sometimes, it takes that one person to get up the courage to confront and square off against a monster before others also come forth, overcoming their fears to fight the beast. I don’t think they’re all about money, either, although Vince is definitely going to offer cash settlement monies to all of them. I think they want his hide.

Let’s let the facts be revealed in time and not do the victim shaming crap like Kevin Nash and others. That’s too easy and quite often wrong.

I trust victims. If they’re proved to be liars, that’s one thing. But that hasn’t happened yet. Give them all the benefit of the doubt. It’s the right thing to do. Because we all know that this world is ruled by men and they have a record of causing great harm to women.

One more item before I go. Stephanie McMahon has some kind of highly questionable relationship with her father, and she’s twisted. The question is, how much did The Rock know, and how deep did he get in the shit? His sudden move to the board of TKO is just too bizarre. It’s ill-timed and shows lack of vision. He’s made questionable decisions before and starred in some really bad movies, but he had it made. This, this is suspicious. I think he should bail. If he doesn’t, he’s there for damage control. Bad move, Rock. Bad move.

Monsters

Yep, there be monsters among us, aye.

You don’t always know that they are beasts on sight. You can know them for years and still not know how horrible they are.

But what gets me the most is that no matter how evil, how brazen or how depraved they turn out to be, someone will always defend monsters and claim that the human being accused of being a fucking animal is actually a great person.

But Gérard Depardieu is a fucking predator and sex offender everywhere except France. Because he’s an artist. God damn. Are the French really that insane?

It seems that some call him an artist (bullshit), and others, the “greatest actor in the world (a pile of elephant shit).”

How many times have I heard this kind of defense about the famous? Well, I guess I would have lost track long ago if I ever tried. You can’t rape someone and not go to prison. Except in France.

Depardieu is not an artist. He most certainly isn’t the greatest actor “in the world.”

I never liked him. After a few shitty movies, if I saw his name, I stayed away.

Is it me, or are sex predators being given special treatment? The celebrities, I mean. Sure, we nailed Weinstein and fucking hooray for that, but there’s a huge snake pit of these people out there. Not people. Snakes. They should be exiled to Snake Island. Fuck them.

I have in the past been able to spot brand marks on porn models. Some were tattoos. Small, usually some character, like an Asian letter. Or little things that don’t make sense. Later, the tat changes. The letter turned into a small dragon. These marks change because ownership changes. Traffickers do this. Sex slave owners do it. Later, these actors or models no longer pose or act. They vanish.

This is because of aging. Kept in line by drugs, that aging doesn’t turn out well. Breast augmentation just looks silly on a drug-ravaged body. But they are human beings!

They get exiled to some far away place, streetwalking to get money for drugs. And that’s where their sad lives end.

They served a master or two. If they enter that world young, they go through some of the most horrifying things any young person can: large objects are used to “open you up” in the words of one girl interviewed. Monsters do this shit. And the “trade” is international; a girl who ran away from home in New York City gets sucked in by some promise to have an agent to set up a modeling career. The next day, she’s in China, Hong Kong, Macau, or the like, or Muslim countries, even the Middle East. Maybe it’s a Brazilian girl who never sees home again. And for those who can pay, she’s made into nothing but a vagina.

Sex slaves and sex crimes aren’t new, but with population growth, parents will readily sell a child. It happens. What a customer does is pay to rape unwilling girls or boys.

I’ve tracked a couple of these “owners” before. Then they went legit or migrated to the dark web.

You know my past. You don’t need to guess how I feel about this evil shit.

But at the same time that the perps are the worst part, those who defend the slimy bastards?

Scum.

Right Under My Nose, part two

The red Hyundai Sonata was towed out of the parking lot yesterday. Since Tuesday, it was still there, with a full cover on it. A neighbor told me that while I was at the grocery store, a tan vehicle was seen circling the lot. Then the driver stopped and got out. He walked to the Sonata and looked under the cover. Three cruisers arrived, and it was towed away. That’s when she tried to call me but I didn’t get it. I only received the missed call notification when I got home and called her back. It seems that the car had been used in a homicide. I could only find one report of a homicide nearby, but that took place on Sunday, 17 December. That’s well before the time I saw the car being abandoned early on Tuesday.

Now, I have emailed the county police as I couldn’t get an answer on the non-emergency line. I gave what little information I had. But it’s nothing. I wish I could do more.

I’m glad that I followed my gut and didn’t go near them because I’m more certain than I was before that I would have been shot.

I believe that the shooting was gang or drug related. Let this post be a warning to civilians: call the police when you feel that something is off. If I had, they may have caught the men. But also, do not approach suspicious people yourself. They may kill you. And I don’t care if you have a handgun with a carry permit. You can still get killed by desperate villainous scum.

Right Under My Nose

Tuesday, 19 December

Kings Contrivance

Howard County, Maryland

03:00-04:15

Usually up at night, having to go outside to smoke, I see, but mostly hear, some odd things. In the daytime, I’m always trying to be observant. I need to know what belongs where. To this end, I train myself during walks to the market and rides to the various doctors that I see.

The game is “Sherlock Holmes”: try to see something I’ve not noticed before. It could be small. One time, when I was doing this when I lived in Harwood Park, a peculiar thing stood out. It was a circular newspaper box. It was round but long, easily accommodating a rolled up newspaper. I had not seen one since the late 60s or early 70s. It was finally removed. I wish I’d asked for it. A true Americana collector’s piece from an age now long gone.

The point is to train yourself not to dissociate, to live in the moment. PTSD patients do, among other things, get lost in thoughts or be triggered to flash back to the time during or after their trauma. It is unavoidable, but the Sherlock game can help. You’re attempting to free your mind of a dreadful cycle to at least some degree.

But once begun, this ability, no matter how crudely honed, stays with you. Even if you see something, only to forget it. Later, you will remember.

At approximately 03:00 to 04:15 yesterday, I went out into the bitter cold, lit a Marlboro, and couldn’t avoid the glare of one headlight from a car. The car faced me, but there was another parked in front of it, obscuring the driver’s side headlight. Two, and possibly three males, were talking. The car was idling. There appeared to be no reason for them to talk quietly. Yet I couldn’t hear what was being said.

The young man standing beside the open passenger side door was thin, Caucasian, short hair, 25 years of age. I couldn’t see any detail, though, even when the driver switched the headlights off. The remaining light was like a parking light. It was wrong; I hadn’t seen one like that here before. Something in my gut told me that this whole scene was just off.

I didn’t have my flashlight, and anyway, my gut told me to stay away. I don’t have a problem confronting others, but as the saying goes, you don’t take a knife to a firefight. I can’t escape the certainty that I would have been shot.

I was exhausted so I went to bed. I woke up around 11:00. Before having coffee, I went outside to smoke and failed to notice a Howard County police SUV until a young woman walked to a red car and the officer got out to meet her.

They were looking at a faded red Sonata. I caught some of the conversation, but not much. She told him that she lived two blocks away. Opening the door, the officer smelled Marijuana. Whoever boosted the car sure as hell didn’t fear a drug charge after having just committed automobile grand theft.

That’s not the worst part. The officer said something like, “They wiped it down,” and by then, I came in for coffee. Halfway through it, I realized that Sonata was the one I’d seen earlier. It was left idling while they cleaned it. I thought about calling the police, because the officer had already left, but I had to go over what little I had seen, and knew I’d sound like a nutter and that I couldn’t help. Looking at the car, my heart sank. It wasn’t wiped down. It was fucked up. The pattern of spray bottle spatter on the inside of the windshield looked like strong cleaner or something caustic. Plates had been torn off. I felt so furious that all of it happened right under my nose. That a stolen vehicle had been dumped and damaged in my front yard.

I want to hurt the bastards, just like I would love to catch the bastard who hit a senior lady and left her to die last month.

Punishment isn’t my duty. If it were, I’d be a damn hard one about it. But my morals have some bearing on my way of life. I can’t harm another unless I’m defending someone from them. Then, I have no problem using force or to die in the attempt.

Until that day, I’m going to observe everything I can.

Watch “Polygamist Cult ‘Prophet’ Caught Towing Underage Girls in Trailer — Full Bodycam” on YouTube

First, these kids are nervous, and that’s as it should be. But they’re also very scared, and not of the officers.

What are they afraid of?

Observations:

1. They appear to be wearing uniforms of colors which may indicate a rank or standing of some sort. Watch again as the one in the burgundy in the center remains defiant but cannot be still.

2. The seniors may wear burgundy. I immediately thought, lieutenants. They have to be separated because they tell the other girls to keep silent.

3. The biggest red flag is the presence of girls in a towed trailer in the Arizona heat. The specific WX information isn’t stated but at any temperature, passage in an unventilated trailer can, and has caused, death.

4. Watch one of the girls on the left as she writes on the pad after being asked to write her name and address. She keeps lifting the pen in hesitation. She is trying to think of some alternative, a way out, some type of evasionary tactic, and she is failing.

5. The girl who indicates she is age 7 acts a little bit too cool and mature as she takes the pad and begins writing. It’s certainly possible, but it is odd for a 7-year-old to do so, much more so because she’s in a high pressure situation with police officers all over the lot.

6. The video states that the driver is a “prophet” cult leader and that he was arrested, but I don’t see the actual arrest. Even so, he is in deep trouble and no matter what I see or do not see, he is busted. In a red state, however, he may be given probation. He should serve at least 20 years at a supermax.

7. The girls show distinct signs of drug abuse. Often cults and traffickers gain psychological control over their victims with drugs or other substances. This is reinforced in any number of ways: letting the victim become dependent, the making the withdraw by keeping said substance from them. Placing them back on the substance results in immediate relief and control by the leader is firmly established. This leads to a false but very clear “loyalty” to their captor or handler; thus the older one telling the others to be silent. The girls fidget and put hands in pockets, to me appearing to be dependent on an injection drug which now they will not get, although they’re holding out hope.

8. One girl takes video of her leader, assuring that should he be mistreated by the officers, she will have proof. That is conditioned loyalty and is heartbereaking to see. She’s cold, detached, but efficient, certain that she will be rewarded in some way by her leader.

I do not know what happened after the video ends. There doesn’t appear to be another one which continues this grotesque incident. Ultimately I believe that their parents were contacted, but whether the minors were placed into their care is not a given. These girls have been violated in every sense of the word, and extensive and intensive mental health and rehabilitative care is certainly indicated. They will not have anything close to normal lives whether they are treated or not. The long dresses in the heat of an Arizona summer plus the hairstyles, are conservative and seem likely to indicate a conservative religious cult, however disgusting that may seem.

A salute to the officers of the City of Flagstaff for being observant and mindful. Truly a traumatic case for any law enforcement officer anywhere.

Remembering 2012

On the first day of the month of June, I was with a healthcare worker. As she drove from Columbia to Elkridge, a dark, lowering sky made me uneasy. The worker asked at one point, “Is that a tornado?”.

It sure was. I had never seen one before. Little did I know, there was another one right behind us, a stone’s throw from where my appointment had been.

Doctors…

It was the wrong day to be out. Ahead, the funnel was in the distance, in the very direction we would be going. I estimated that it was over Elkridge just before the sky opened up and rain lashed the windshield too fast for the wipers to keep up with, and then I lost track of it.

Although not far from BWI/Marshall Airport, Elkridge was spared, but someone spotted it grounded at the airport. Once home, reports from local news came in from areas where no storm chasers with access to radar roamed. Nobody could do better than relay sightings. Those became confusing and only later would I find the reason for that confusion: on 1 June, 2012, the records say, 12 tornadoes hit Maryland, a nightmarish event. Although the state isn’t a hot spot for twisters, they aren’t that rare; some have even been severe.

But the next day I did hear the count at 13 tornadoes. Now I can only find records of 12. Still, an extraordinary storm, formidable to be sure.

I believe only one fatality was recorded, but what followed would be far worse.

A high pressure system had parked over the Midwest. It was big. In a summer month, such a mass of air can tend to stop, remaining stationary and preventing anything weaker to budge it. And that’s bad because it sets itself up as an upper level dome, and that’s exactly what it sounds like: a dome, like a structure, with the whole ecosystem trapped beneath it. Air won’t move, and because the pressure where heat should rise is too high to allow it, heat stays near the ground. It becomes like propane, a gas that’s heavier than air. Propane explosions can happen with even a slight leak. The gas doesn’t disperse quickly enough and a source of ignition can follow the gas right to its source. Grills on rear decks of expensive homes have blown up, taking half or more of the house with it. Many times, nearby homes take extensive damage as well because post-1960s, yards became progressively smaller.

As if it were a heavy gas like propane, the air under the dome heated up to record temperatures. The heatwave of 2012 was underway.

Drought rules the day in such a system. This was not a direct cause of global warming, but a weather system. One that global warming certainly didnt help, and one that hadn’t been seen since the 1930s in the area. Forget degree days; every day was a degree day. Temperatures reached 100 and higher with unrelenting consistency and if weather were a living thing, this animal was vicious and relentless. People without air conditioning died. Cooling centers couldn’t help more than a set number of people, and farmers of tobacco, corn, tomatoes and other vegetables shrugged and watched everything die. Even irrigation systems couldn’t save them.

As June wore on, green grass turned brown and ceased to grow. Nobody but fools thought about going near a lawnmower. It was too hot and it wasn’t necessary. The demand for water to homes was great, but reservoirs were so pressured that Governor O’Malley had a team working on a supply from the Susquehanna River above the dam for areas west of it.

Finally there came June 29th and the very worst the stagnant system could dish out. Baltimore City reached 106°F, a record for that date, but worse was on the way. Something nobody would ever forget.

It wasn’t tornadoes. It was much more bizarre than that.

On that day, what seemed like a mere thunderstorm started somewhere in Iowa. The Storm Prediction Center (SPC) took notice. A shape like a bow (as in archery) began to form along the leading edge. Heat fed the storm instead of blunting it. The ouward arch of the bow pointed east. Everything in its path was going to get damaged.

By 23:00, Maryland was under the gun. As rare as it was, this storm survived the crossing of the Appalachian Mountains without breaking apart. Average storm systems are often broken while crossing the mountains, with cells usually surviving to hit Noth and south of Baltimore. Not always, but if a storm stays intact, it’s weakened. This barrier can make things easier to take, but if enough heat remains east of the range, the cells reform and act as though highly pissed off.

This front didn’t have any regard for mountains, rivers, valleys or any other geographic feature. It was a honey badger storm. Didn’t give a shit.

In the hours between 29 and 30 June, high winds came through and caught me off-guard. I was outside on the deck, having a cigarette. I saw some flashes, some cloud to cloud and cloud to ground, of lightning, heard wind, and the next thing I knew, I was grabbed by a gust and almost thrown over the railing. I had never been hit with wind like that. My cigarette vanished into the night, ripped from my hand, then I was bent over the handrail and the air was sucked out of my chest.

In that instant, I had probably been hit by a gust over 70 m.p.h. and you don’t forget a thing like that. You never do.

I had no idea what just happened. The next day I learned that the storms were part of the heatwave. The straight-line winds, called a durecho, happened all the time in the Midwest. Crossing the mountains, that was rare.

My daughter just missed the tornado outbreak but arrived in time from Oklahoma to see the durecho. After living in Oklahoma and North Carolina, it must have seemed like nothing to her.

I never had time to talk about any of this with her. By July 4th, she was dead. While I grieved, on 20 July the Aurora, Colorado cinema mass shooting occurred. James Holmes killed 12 people and injured 58 others. 2012 could not end soon enough for me.

But it was far from over. On 29 October, Hurricane Sandy went subtropical and hit every east-coast state from Maine to Florida and went far inland as Superstorm Sandy (which retained hurricane-force winds after New Jersey landfall). It was a major disaster, but more trouble was on the way.

On 14 December in Newtown, Connecticut, at Sandy Hook Elementary School, Adam Lanza shot and killed 20 children and 6 adults. He had earlier killed his mother. He died by his own hand.

2012 was a year none of us can ever, and must never, forget. Too many people lost their lives, some by the weather, some by murder. And it never, ever can make any sense unless we keep trying to learn its lessons. Because so far, we have failed to learn a goddamn thing.

I will never forget 2012. My daughter did not survive the year, and to this day, I cry. I grieve, I hurt.

But I am not alone. There are lots of people who curse that awful year.

An awful, terrible year.

If the United States had started 2012 with any innocence left, then by the time it ended, the last of it was gone.

Jordan Neely Should Not Be Dead

I recently featured a guest blogger who drew personal abuse from BLM protesters after Jordan Neely was killed. She raised accurate, hellish concerns over the mental health care system in New York City, but there is one thing I believe we are all missing here if we concentrate on points about homelessness and mental issues, no matter where you specify a problem area.

It is that, first and foremost, Jordan Neely should not be dead.

As a Christian, as a veteran, as one who knows and has known many people with serious mental illnesses, as a proud liberal, as a man who sees great trouble coming, I cannot in good conscience do anything except condemn the murder of Jordan Neely.

Ruled a homicide by the medical examiner who posted the body, this is a matter of the law and of justice. In the end, no matter what else we consider pertinent, Neely was murdered.

I get that he had a rap sheet a mile long, including some violent crimes. But the marine in question, who has not been named, couldn’t know that and even if he did, killing the man cannot be sufficiently defended.

Did the man intend to kill? I don’t know. I was not there and at any rate cannot read minds. But a look at his face in the photo tells me one thing: he did not need to engage in the restraint, and once the engagement was initiated, he was met with forceful resistance.

Whether death was accidental or not, that’s for a jury to decide. But I have to tell you, killing someone is serious when you believe that you are protecting others. You walk a line. It’d never have anything to do with being a good Samaritan. The line is between helping someone or being a vigilante. In this and every case of vigilantism, there’s a key word: murder.

Until a jury hears his testimony and that of any witnesses, I cannot pretend to know. If I gave an opinion, it would be premature and irresponsible.

I could do it. But this kind of analysis is way over my pay grade. It is not up to us to decide this case, or try it on social media or blogs.

I just know one thing:

Jordan Neely should not be dead.

New York Confidential: Crime and Grime in The Big Apple

This morning’s guest writer goes by the pseudonym of Sharon Lee for reasons that will become obvious. Here is her story.

***

I’m gonna step in a vipers nest here but oh well.

I was on the train at Broadway Lafayette today and there was a huge protest about Jordan Neely (who was accidentally killed after being so erratic 2 NYCers felt they had to restrain him). He died after being placed in a choke hold. The man who initially grabbed and held him was a 24 year old marine, as well as another strap hanger who stepped in to help him, because Mr. Neely was so erratic they felt they were all in danger.

I’ll link the full story in my comments.

No arrests were made following the death of Jordan Neely, and now BLM is going nuts saying his “murderer” is “a vigilante” who should be prosecuted for murder.

Yet no one talks about the fact that “Jordan Neely had been arrested more than 40 times on the subway for crimes like public lewdness and assaulting a senior citizen.”

“According to sources, witnesses to his final moments told police Neely was erratic and hostile — but it’s not clear if he was threatening violence.”

Now, I’m not saying what happened was right, but I don’t think anyone intended to kill him. And I think his actions caused others to believe he could and may be a danger to other riders, so much so that 2 mem stepped up to prevent that. Jordan Neely died in the process. Sad story, but…

I saw the protest first hand, and the cops showed incredible restraint whilst having insults hurled at them (including a black officer who got called a “traitorous Uncle Tom house negro”, spittle hitting his face from a protester screaming not 5 inches from it. Credit to him, as I couldn’t have handed it so well, but I digress.

Jordan’s death sucked, but in this specific case I think BLM just jumped immediately into turning this into an opportunity to make a martyr out of someone, while calling for a marine to be charged with murder, when Neeley was screaming about how he didn’t care if he died and acting aggressively towards others (and records show this was a pattern of his, including assaulting a senior citizen). God knows what he wasn’t caught for.

That is a simple truth people won’t wanna hear but there it is.

This story really highlights a few different issues.

One is the desperate need for more places to treat and house unstable, mentally disabled homeless people (not to mention what to do with those who have records of assaulting people).

Then we have the issue of treating and rehabilitating drug addicted homeless (who have and are posing serious public safety hazards to everyday commutors). I don’t mean all of them, but there is a huge increase in assaults and murders on the subway committed by quite a few of them.

Next is the fact that NYCs justice system is completely overwhelmed, and allowing people who have violent records to go back onto the streets regardless of how many times they have repeatedly committed both violent and non violent crimes, over and over, time and time again.

No one should have over 40 charges in just a few years’ time and still be allowed back onto the streets, especially when they are unwilling to get help and unwilling to change their criminal behavior.

Which leaves everyday New Yorkers at risk of being harassed, harangued, threatened and assaulted, with a feeling of utter helplessness. Not to mention the police, who have finally begun arresting and charging people with quality of life crimes, at a loss for what to do when our system simply isn’t capable of dealing with the humongous amount of those who need help, let alone those who refuse any help.

Many homeless are unwilling to utilize any help offered by the city, and are completely opposed to even talking to the scores of social workers (putting their own lives at risk) who are going into the community offering help with housing, treatment and food. I live in the Bronx. I am a witness to this.

The fact is NYC is in crisis, and has been for a while. The Mayor’s office has pumped a lot into housing, treatment and building affordable homes and programs to help those who want it. Yet there are those who will not, who continue to pose a serious threat to public safety. Which leaves us ill equipped to deal with this in any realistic capacity, as we have no options but to utilize an already over burdened justice system.

The amount of assaults (and public health and safety hazards) caused by the mentally unstable, sometimes drug addicted, homeless have reached an all time high (and if you ride the subways you know this). I have never felt scared until these past few years to ride the subways as I am now, and I am really glad the police are back out in force and arresting people again.

We cannot continue to allow repeat offenders, especially violent offenders, to get off without any consequences. The fact that Neely was arrested over 40 times in recent years, and for assaulting a senior citizen, is a perfect example of this.

What happened to him is unfortunate, but I for one, feel a bit better knowing he won’t be a danger to anyone, including himself, anymore. The marine who held him down is probably traumatized as hell and believed he was protecting his fellow NYCers. Doubt he cared if Jordan was black, white or purple.

This was not a racially motovated attack. It’s just a very sad, very fucked-up story. And there will probably be more stories like this as New yorkers take their safety into their own hands as we have been forced to.

This marine was not a vigilante. And, unfortunately, Jordan was no innocent.

So let’s stop making martyrs out of criminals.

There are plenty of people for BLM to stand up for. Jordan, unfortunately, is not one of them. And the cops don’t deserve the amount of hatred and nastiness being spewed at them. Not this time.

They’re the ones putting on a uniform that makes them a target, while getting treated like garbage, knowing the state of the city right now. They do their jobs anyway. God knows the NYPD isn’t perfect, but this tragic tale is just being used as an excuse for more division, and made into something it never should have been.

If we spent half as much time actually addressing the underlying causes, and working on real solutions to them, as was taken to organize and rally this protest, which isn’t worth a protest anyway, we’d all be better off.

I am a proud liberal, Democrat, civil, womens and LGBTQ rights activist and supporter. Always have been, always will be. I will always stand for equality and against injustice. This case, however, is just the sad result of a conglomeration of much larger, systemic issues that need addressing.

In my opinion, instead of fighting each other and causing further divisions, we should be making moves to prevent another tragic tale such as this one from happening again. It starts with us not being overreactive and using every excuse as a reason to further divide us. And it’s a damn shame that this story is being twisted into anything more than the absolutely sad situation it is.

We have bigger fish to fry. And we can’t fry them unless we stop being reactionary and twisting stories like this into something they aren’t.

That’s my two cents, anyway, as a woman born and raised in NYC, who rides the subway, and has watched our city turn into what it has. Take it for what it’s worth, or don’t. I just felt this needed to be said.

***

Sharon’s story has two after notes. The medical examiner who posted the body later concluded the death a homicide because the decedent’s neck had been compressed.

Sharon was also personally attacked by BLM protesters who asked, “Where’s my forty acres, you white bitch? You need to make reparations!” He added that he also wanted a mule.

The coroner’s report changes things. But it’s at most an accidental death: these men had only the safety of others in mind. Will they be prosecuted? Of course they will. The state fears what will happen if they don’t a lot more than they fear doing an injustice to two men who acted to help, not to kill. Their lives are now forfeit; anywhere they go, they will be hunted. One or both will turn up dead. Because a mob yelling obscenities to police who weren’t even involved is madness. Couple that with outrage, and you only end up with trouble. It’s unavoidable.

A Little Girl, a Basketball and a Gun

Be careful with this article particularly with the video.

It is extremely upsetting. I don’t know what to say. I cried.

STAY AWAY FROM THE UNITED STATES

Ralph is described as a pretty cool kid. Conflicting reports say he’s dead. Others say he’s in the hospital.

Some say that he was shot point blank in an open doorway. Others say he was shot through the front door by a white man, 84 years old, with a piece of shit .32 revolver.

Ralph had rung the doorbell. It was the wrong house. Same address, wrong street. He’d been sent to take his younger brothers home. The man, a criminal now, was arrested and released because of the “stand your ground” law. State of Missouri. The barf bag was then arrested again after protests broke out and the shooter’s house was vandalized. If not for that, the gestapo police would have preferred to let him go.

But ringing the wrong doorbell is not sufficient reason to shoot a kid. It isn’t even a crime.

You know how this post ends.

Stay the hell out of the United States. If you value your life, heed this: there is nothing to see here that is worth your life. The contiguous United States is a free-fire zone. Avoid it at all costs. If you have business here, do it by video conference and spare your family the grief of getting notified that you are coming home in a body bag. And whatever you do, don’t bring children here. Gunshots are the leading cause of death for children in this country. In 2020, despite the lock down, firearms became the leading cause of death for minors in the United States. You’d be bringing children into the most hazardous of all developed countries not currently at war on its home soil.

Do not travel to the US. Nothing here is worth it. And if you’re black, Asian or anything but caucasian, you’re the most at risk.

Stop The Bleeding!

The following article is very disturbing and caution is advised. If you feel anxious, triggered, or otherwise upset in any way, know first that you have my undying respect: you have a good soul. Second, please don’t hesitate to close this window. My next post may be more to your liking.

The following events are on record. The network, cable, streaming and internet news will not, and has not, told you the truth. I will.

Mass Shootings in the United States of America March 1 through April 10, 2023

1 March- Kansas City, MO: 3 police officers wounded, firefight and standoff. Terminated by shooter’s suicide.

4 March- Los Angeles CA: 5 wounded near beach.

4 March- Douglasville, GA: 2 killed, 6 wounded at a party

4 March- Cape Girardeau, MO: 5 wounded outside bar.

5 March- Shreveport LA: 4 wounded outside church, drive-by.

5 March- Bolingbrook IL: 3 killed (2 minors), 1 wounded, home invasion.

5 March- Lake City, FL: 4 wounded.

6 March- LA Riviera, LA: 2 killed, 2 wounded, domestic violence.

6 March- Memphis TN: 2 killed, 2 wounded, domestic violence.

7 March- Memphis TN: 4 wounded.

8 March- Pine Bluffs, AR: 2 killed, 2 wounded in parked car.

8 March- Los Angeles, CA: firefight; shooter fired at officers, terminated when shooter was killed.

10 March- Miami Lakes, FL: 5 killed including shooter (murder-suicide).

12 March- Dallas, TX: 4 wounded, northwest section.

13 March- Lubbock, TX: 4 wounded.

14 March- near Birmingham, AL: 4 killed at 2 locations by same shooter.

15 March- Modesto, CA: 2 killed, 2 wounded at residence.

18 March- Dallas, TX: 4 wounded, road incident.

18 March- Chicago, IL: 3 shooters wounded 4 in South Shore.

18 March- Columbus, OH: 2 killed, 4 wounded, nightclub.

20 March- Milwaukee, WS: 1 killed (minor), 5 wounded.

21 March- Sumter, SC: 4 killed (3 minors, 1 adult) terminated by shooter’s suicide.

21 March- Trenton, NJ: 4 wounded, drive-by.

23 March- Baltimore, MD: 1 killed, 5 wounded, west side.

25 March- Shreveport, LA: 1 killed, 5 wounded. Multiple shooters fired randomly at pedestrians.

26 March- Girl Scouts HQ, Brooklyn Center, MN: parking lot; 6 minors wounded after more than 50 rounds were fired by shooter.

26 March- Minden, LA: 4 wounded at family event.

26 March- Hempstead, NY: 4 wounded at birthday party.

26 March- Little Rock, AR: 2 killed, 5 wounded.

26 March- Philadelphia, PA: 2 killed, 2 wounded, northside.

27 March- Milwaukee, WI: 5 wounded at restaurant and bar.

27 March- Nashville, TN: Covenant School Massacre; 3 children, 3 adults killed, shooter killed by police.

29 March- Memphis, TN: 2 killed, 5 wounded, restaurant parking lot.

April

1 April- Baltimore, MD: 3 killed, 1 wounded, northeast section.

1 April- Los Angeles, CA: 1 killed, 3 wounded; Trader Joe’s parking lot.

1 April- Oklahoma City, OK: 3 killed, 3 wounded at a bar during a biker firefight.

2 April- Moreno Valley, CA: 2 adults, 2 minors wounded.

2 April- Washington DC: 4 wounded on MLK JR. Ave S.E.

2 April- Fayetteville, NC: 1 killed, 4 wounded at a hookah lounge.

3 April- Pueblo, CO: 1 killed (minor), 3 wounded.

3 April- Atlanta, GA: 1 killed, 3 wounded at a temple.

3 April- Jackson, TN: 5 found in car, 4 wounded.

4 April- Philadelphia, PA: 1 killed, 4 wounded in Kensington.

5 April- Kansas City, KS: 3 police, 3 suspects wounded during fentanyl investigation.

5 April- Virginia Beach, VA: 4 wounded.

6 April- Philadelphia, PA: 4 wounded in northside section.

7 April- Park Forest, IL: 1 killed, 3 wounded at a fan gathering.

7 April- New Orleans, LA: 5 wounded (2 minors) on Interstate 10.

7 April- Isle of Palms, SC: 6 wounded on beach.

8 April- Harris County, TX: 4 wounded at apartment complex.

9 April- Orlando, FL: 3 killed, 2 wounded after Easter egg hunt in a park.

10 April- Louisville, KY: 5 killed, 9 wounded at a bank; employee was the shooter.

Some Notes:

This is a small slice in time. Do not be led to believe that if you count the number of dead, that these shootings aren’t as bad as you would have thought. Every shooting and, of course, every mass shooting, is extremely traumatic even to bystanders. The lives of the wounded, the surviving families of the killed, are forever changed, and their pain should never be minimized by anyone.

Also note that I have made no note of shooting victims who were wounded critically. The reason: they may yet be counted among the dead. It can takes months to die or to walk out of a hospital. Also, of the critically wounded, let us respect their and their family’s privacy. They’re already dealing with too much. No one has the right to make things worse.

One more point, then I’ll let you go: I have made no note of the weapons used. To me, it does not matter. It is too easy to get hand guns and they kill too; although assault rifles and their horrifying accessories are way more than any citizen should be allowed to have in their possession, much less buy so easily. To this author a person murdered is tragic in the extreme. And I will never understand the reasons minors are so often a shooter’s target of choice. Anyone who says they know why these things happened is full of shit. Aren’t there already enough liars defending this national tragedy? To the rest of the world we’re animals.

They’ve got that right.

Donald Trump Indicted

Q: What’s something most people don’t understand?

A: The simple truth that to learn, one must accept that they know nothing.

It has finally happened. Donald Trump has been indicted in New York for using campaign funds to, through Michael Cohen, pay porn star Stormy Daniels (whom Trump now calls “horseface”) to not disclose her sexual liaisons with Trump while his wife Melania was giving birth or directly after or both.

Donald “Grabem-by-the-Pussy” Trump is like a little brat-bully boy who can’t stand that Daniels told not only that the “affair” (adultery) happened (I doubt she had feelings for him) but also had the audacity to describe his penis as being “musgroom-shaped”. So insulted was he that, in retaliation, his tiny brain struggled to find a name to call one of her body parts something mean.

Yes, that’s what he came up with.

Horseface.

“You call me a name, I’ll call you a name, na, na-na, na nah!” Why didn’t he let it slip out, “I’m gonna tell on you!”

Keep in mind that Michael Cohen has already served time for his part in the payoff.

High time, then, that the man who sent him to do it and then threw him to the wolves pays for his own crime.

As for Mike Pence: for four years he was a milquetoast and a do-nothing who hated gays because he had his own issues. Then, for one moment in his life, he did the right thing. Now, he’s a worse example of a human being than before. If you read between the lines in the video above, he’s clearly all for obstruction of justice.

And finally we come to Marjorie Taylor Green. As bad as I feel about it, I can’t even pray for her. She’s evil, delusional and highly dangerous to our country.

I intend to go out fighting this evil and madness. I’ll get re-engaged with local politicians and I’ll donate or volunteer if possible. We all lose if Republicans carry the day in the next election. That would have serious consequences for not only us, but for the world.

Ralph Smith Died a Convicted Child Abuser and Got an Obituary so Whitewashed Tom Sawyer Would Be Jealous

Repost of a 2019 article that I never want forgotten when I’m gone. It is a difficult read, but please do it for me. Please read the linked articles as well, and know that if I die tonight, I’ll go knowing that it wasn’t all in vain, wasn’t useless and that maybe my life really mattered, if only for one brief moment when outrage gave me courage. And that maybe you could use whatever you find here to help others in pain.

This article also sheds light on why I hurt so much for women and children, why The Face In The Window will ever haunt me, from now to my meeting with God. We’re here for such a short time, some of us very short, and everything we do matters. Help others. Be encouraging and unfailingly gentle. Love freely, let compassion fill your heart. It opens you to pain, but the reward is far greater. If you can manage it, you’ll see.

This is one of my oldest posts, and one of the few oldies to still get hits on my Stat page. I hope others have been helped by it. I hope the change in me between then and now is visible, and encouraging. I’m not cured. There’s no such thing, but I have shed some of my bitterness as I’ve looked for God and a faith I thought lost forever. Thank you for caring, sharing and giving me a few moments of your life. You are loved.

JULY 12, 2019 ~ MICHAEL SMITH

WARNING: This article contains material of a disturbing nature and contains mature subject matter. It contains triggers for victims of abuse. Read with care.

OBITUARY

Accidentally, while hunting clues for a cold case murder, I ran across my father’s obituary. I didn’t want to see it.

https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/baltimoresun/obituary.aspx?n=ralph-leon-smith&pid=1004186

Nice, isn’t it? Except I never heard once that he was a lawyer. In fact, there’s evidence that he never made it past 7th grade. He did work for B.F. Moffitt, who was successful in legal work with or against the then-feared Interstate Commerce Commission. Moffitt, by all accounts, was an honorable man. Ralph Smith wasn’t. And this obituary boils my blood.

It says, very simply, that he was a lawyer, later owned Comet Fast Freight in Glen Burnie, and he died at age 75 in Salisbury MD in 2002 after a lengthy illness. Fucking vanilla shit. It doesn’t mention that he was one of the worst sex offenders in state history. Not a word.

A decade earlier the same paper said something very different.

Following are several articles from after the trial. Read them, and I’ll tell you something really fucked up.

https://www.baltimoresun.com/news/bs-xpm-1990-12-30-0503030308-story.html

Jay Apperson was a fine writer and reporter. I knew he was the only spectator in the courtroom during the three-day trial of my parents. We later did things I don’t believe he understood, and that’s what you should expect from a story so horrible; how can he be blamed? But a month after the verdict, when the sentencing hearing came up, reporters from printed media, TV and Radio were there. I particularly remember watching CBS reporter Bruce Morton later on the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather. Mr. Morton was obviously unable to keep a bit of emotion out of his voice. When both Ralph and Betty Smith drew about 99 years apiece for their crimes, the state dropped the remaining cases brought against them for crimes against the rest of my siblings, who I won’t name. It wasn’t fair; they’d taken the time and invested emotionally in writing their police statements and being interviewed first by Detective Jill Klinger of the Sex Crimes Unit of the Anne Arundel County Police Department, then by Assistant State’s Attorney Cynthia Ferris. They got no closure.

But then, neither did I. The trial and my time on the stand was traumatic. And it forced me to feel emotions and speak out loud the unspeakable. It opened up every wound I’d buried. And to this day, those wounds bleed.

As for the 99-year sentences, that was a joke. The judge ordered the terms to be served concurrently; therefore the charges with the most time, 15 years, would be served. They would be eligible for parole in considerably less than that. But they didn’t get their first hearings past the Department of Parole and Probation. Betty Smith served ten years in Jessup Women’s Correctional Facility while Ralph Smith “Esquire” served around eleven. He was in ECI, Eastern Correctional Institution in Queen Anne, after which he wound up in Salisbury, most likely in a halfway house. He died there or in a hospital.

He left behind a shattered family, and all have had their personal struggles. Not being one to compare one person’s pain with that of another, I’ve learned to keep a perspective: all victims of rape, sexual assault, incest and child abuse are, by medical, anecdotal and empiric evidence, walking wounded. I have seen the evidence for myself. It fucks people up.

NEW YORK

One of my biggest regrets is going to New York and appearing on Phil Donahue’s show. Afterward, I thought it took some of the credibility away from our case. I know Jay Apperson thought so. While there, we were approached by Spectacor Films and offered money for the rights to make a film about us. It was a mistake I was too young and too damaged to understand (Spectacor’s portfolio consisted of feculent films like Amityville 3 or 4). When Mr. Apperson reported it, I thought we’d fucked up. We looked like greedy attention seekers. We were not. We hoped to help other people to stand up to their own abusers. I hoped also to show people in my past why I had been so weird, that it wasn’t my fault. That I was just a messed up kid.

I was happy that I abandoned the book. I was happy the movie contract expired without so much as a draft-script written. When the project was pitched, not a single sponsor would touch it. Too horrible, they said.

https://www.baltimoresun.com/news/bs-xpm-1992-03-12-1992072037-story.html

Decades later, no one remembers anything of us. We didn’t change a goddamn thing. How I’d dreamed we could. How bitter I was that the world moved on without me. As I grew ever more sick, I went through a divorce. I tried to kill myself. I went through jobs. Then my children died. My whole fucking life was a waste. As if I never mattered, never should have existed. God damn it.

I need no longer speak to my sister. She’s a goddamn Neocon saint whose relationship with the Lord is historic, unprecedented since the death of St. Paul of Tarsus. Piss on her. She judged me and told her friends lies about me. That’s a mistake; I heard about it and now I pretty much think of her as more fucking mental than I am. I didn’t deserve that bullshit. That bridge is burned forever now.

But I feel sorry for her. She’s missed the whole point. Forgotten it. Forgotten her own fucking words to the press. How we could finally be a family.

I don’t like the whitewashed obituary. The man didn’t deserve it.

https://newspaperarchive.com/annapolis-capital-apr-28-1990-p-1/

You see from the articles that the case of the State of Maryland vs. Ralph and Betty Smith was a big deal. The grand jury said the reports read “like a horror story” and the State’s Attorneys office was cited as saying it was the worst case of child abuse they’d seen. The Honorable Judge Raymond Thieme, after it was over, was said to have entered his office, thrown his robe on the floor and stormed from the building. The source said she had never seen him do such a thing.

Sometimes, I think back on that. Even he needed closure, and probably wished he could forget the shit he had to hear.

Ralph Smith had moments when I looked in his eyes. He would take his glasses off, rub his eyes, and for just a second or two, I saw into the soul of a human being trapped in a diseased body. Did I see regret?

No.

Was it guilt?

No.

It was a broken heart.

Then the devil got into him again and the man was gone, replaced by a monster.

And he did not deserve that vanilla obituary.

“VINDICTIVENESS”

Defense attorney Thomas Morrow told reporters: “Even if the charges are true, I can’t understand that level of vindictiveness.”

Holy shit. What a crude thing to say. What a stupid thing to say.

Well it wasn’t vindictiveness at all. Perhaps some desire for vindication was there. But that’s not what started it. I started it.

I was motivated at first because a sister, long lost, called me out of the blue one day. She was in such obvious pain that I knew she couldn’t keep it inside anymore. Some of what happened to her happened to me at the same time. We were made by my parents to watch 8mm porn films, then do things together, and then we split up; my father and my sister alone in another room, my mother taking me into another. We both saw, did and knew things we both had to do, see or otherwise. When she called, she told me about the things I hadn’t witnessed. Things our father had done to her that were so evil, so horrible that I can’t describe even one of them here. As I listened, my heart was aching. Things people should never have to imagine, much less endure, were vividly pictured in my mind. Before the long call ended, I was full of rage. Goddamn it, they had to pay.

I had an immediate plan. I was going to go to Bart’s Sporting Goods on Ritchie Highway, buy a shotgun, drive to Pasadena, kick the door to their house of pain and evil open, and fill my parents with double aught buckshot. But I happened to spot a copy of the Gazette lying on the coffee table and I picked it up and read it. There had to be a reason I was so motivated. Because there was a story about kids from my neighborhood who grew up with us. They had gone through the same type of abuse. They waited until the youngest turned 18 years of age, then went to the police. Their father was arrested, tried and convicted.

I remembered those kids. One very little girl, the youngest as far as I know, a little girl whose face should have been lit up by an innocent smile, showing up at the bus stop with red, swollen, watery eyes. Tears flowing. Her body held in a position I knew caused by physical pain. I can’t get it out of my head; I’d known something was wrong. When I learned why she’d been like that, I regretted that with my own experience, I didn’t see it for what it was. I will always be sorry I didn’t know, couldn’t help, and they were right down the street all those years.

Maybe I didn’t have to commit murder and throw my life away in an act of revenge. Maybe, this family I’d known so little about had done something we could do. As if there was a hand guiding me to read that paper.

SAVING A NEPHEW

A few of us talked. My youngest brother, still living at home, dropped a bomb on me one day: a sister who had gotten divorced and had a toddler son had moved back home. If being a parent is hard, being a single one is really difficult. But that’s no excuse for what my brother told me she did.

It seemed that when the boy cried and wouldn’t go to sleep at night, she would get our father to beat him with his belt.

Goddamn, it’s hard to write this. I wish I didn’t have to. I wish it never happened. But it did.

Suddenly the imperative was to get the boy away from that. It wasn’t about payback. Justice. Revenge. The kid had to be saved before he was so traumatized that he became one of us.

I contacted the boy’s father, living in North Carolina at the time. I told him our story. What was happening to his son. And I said she had two weeks to get him the hell out of there, or something very bad was going to happen. According to my brother, the asshole did call her, but she convinced him that I was quote “full of shit”.

She had thrown down a gauntlet. When my youngest brother turned 18, he moved out. We went to the police and made statements, and that is why and how it all began. I have no remorse; once sentenced, my parents lost the house. They went to prison. The boy was as safe as we could make him. But I’ve never forgotten that my oldest sister was still a monster, and I’ve worried over the years that my nephew never got out of it unharmed.

AFTER

In 2015, I was outside smoking. A warm summer night. A neighbor had a window open. His daughter was screaming and her father yelled, “I’m your father and I can beat you whenever I want.”

Very uncharacteristically, shaking with rage, I finished my cigarette. I went inside and took two Ativan to calm down. I should have called the police. I didn’t.

The knocking on his door pissed him off. He’d been nice to me, always saying hello and smiling. But now I knew what he was. He was my father. Different shell, same demon.

He stepped out onto the porch. I leaned to whisper in his ear.

“I heard you. I know what you just did. The next time I hear it, I will kill you. She’s worth it. I’ll go to jail, but you’ll be sitting on Satan’s lap, you piece of shit.”

He turned. I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I looked right into his eyes. He knew I meant it.

It was a mistake. He moved his family out. I couldn’t help her; I’d probably made it worse.

I have the hope that he was so scared that he sought help. Or he changed.

I believe the hope to be unrealistic.

In the end I wonder what I’ve ever accomplished that was good. It all seems so useless, so futile.

The monsters don’t change.

They can’t. Ralph Smith died a monster. And everyone forgot what he really was. He got a lie for an obituary.

The world forgets.

And I…am an asshole.

Post-Update, Father’s Day, 2022.

The final verdict is in; Ralph Smith never practiced law.

He never finished college. When he was working for the motor truck association, he was a fucking clerk, typing tariffs and doing billing.

I have a cousin named Bonnie, and another named Terri, on Ancestry. Both are hostile toward me and one is responsible for making his ancestry profile make Superman seem like a milquetoast compared to my father. The motive: they’re from the south. Family can be serial killers, but they’d conceal it if they could. I’ve blocked all updates and emails from the site, and I’m never going back. Because fuck the Smith family. Inbred shit beyond the ability to accept truth or to tell it.

They’re all mad.POSTED IN THE BIOGRAPHY OF A DEMON ASSISTANT STATE’S ATTORNEY CYNTHIA FERRIS BALTIMORE SUN COMET FAST FREIGHT DETECTIVE JILL KLINGER-ANNE ARUNDEL COUNTY POLICE JAY APPERSON JUDGE RAYMOND THIEME NORTH CAROLINA COLD CASE 1958-1960 PHIL DONOHUE RALPH AND BETTY SMITH TRIAL 1990 RALPH L. SMITH 2002 OBITUARY SPECTACULAR FILMS STATE OF MARYLAND VS. RALPH AND BETTY SMITH

Published by Michael Smith

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2 thoughts on “Ralph Leon Smith Died A Monster And Got A Whitewashed Obituary He Didn’t Deserve. His Victims Have To Live With That Final Insult”

Pel AbbottJULY 12, 2019 AT 10:11EDITMay he N.E.V.E.R. rest in peace, but instead get exactly what he deserves.Liked by youReply
1. Michael SmithJULY 12, 2019 AT 16:00 EDITGuys like him don’t deserve fucking obituaries, much less this bullshit.LikeReply

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Chicago FBI Perimeter Breached; Psycho Throws Rocks At Building

The headline is insane, but it happened. Just weeks after the raid on the Trump estate in Florida (with the stupid name), FBI agents are seeing proof that Trump’s psychotic acolytes are a clear and present danger.

These nuts are too far gone to bring back to earth. They’re out there. So, I won’t waste time warning nutballs to leave federal officers alone. I think throwing rocks is really stupid, but then again, psychos are, by definition, most likely running around with a room temperature IQ anyway.

Expect the field offices to really amp up security now. Any attempt to breach security should be met with deadly force.

We’re going the wrong way. Because of the wrong reasons. And it’s going to blow up in our faces, all of us. Demonize all law enforcement and anarchy will rule. And that’s worse than a zombie apocalypse any day.

We Vampires

Man, yesterday was dull. I awoke around 13:00 hrs. Aching from muscle strain and the collision of a high pressure system and the low it’s pushing into the Atlantic, followed by another low from the south, I felt like I just shouldn’t move.

But then I remembered that often if I push myself, I loosen up, get the blood pumping and feel better. I walked to the store, and by the time I got home, felt better. But I was back to sleeping by day and haunting the sidewalk out front between movies at night. I have to go outside to smoke.

Monday, 15 August

02:19 hrs

Rain. Very cool. I’m supposed to go up the steps, 15 feet from the building to light up. But the rain compelled me to stay under the porch.

Picture if you will a private parking lot. It’s dark but I wear my prescription sunglasses because light hurts. Doesn’t make me blind, though. I saw on the second row of cars from the building a shadow occlude the reflection on the side of a car. Okay, someone’s up there. People come and go at all hours here, but this felt wrong.

Then I heard a car door shutting and my alarm inside my head goes off.

This is not right.

I went up the steps to ground level. I saw a slow-moving hulky shadow move between cars. It came over to the west end of the parking lot and I could see someone going from car to car, checking doors. By the time he got to a black Outlander and actually sat in the driver’s seat I was approaching him. He will never know how close he was to death. I asked, “What are you doing?”

I was not scared, did not show emotion and had to repeat the question face to face because they always act like you’re talking to someone else. And there’s never anyone else there.

I repeated the question with authority but only enough, no drama. It scared him. He said, “I’m getting the Lysol for my wife,” and he walked unsteadily off into the darkness and the street. I couldn’t stop him for petty theft, and pulling a blade on a sleazy guy who was just after console coins is not cool. Yet, all he had to do when he was at his CPA with me was make a wrong move. 16 ways. That’s the number of ways he could have been killed if I detected danger. A few more if he’d made certain moves, because of body parts that would have been exposed to attack. None of them would be easy ways to die. He’d have been in pain until he bled out. Except I couldn’t do that. I’d have patched him up if I had time.

But he was just a desperate guy looking for cigarette or drug money. He thought about fighting. I could tell. His answer was belligerent. But he was short of breath. Scared.

02:22 hrs

I called 911 because I knew he was on foot. Two officers showed up by 02:28. I described the guy as best I could. Didn’t get a look at his face because we vampires hate light. Prescription sunglasses don’t allow for prime night vision. He was 5’10”, 250, black, wearing a green hoodie. A labored walk. Too bulky.

The officers did good work. They took it seriously and looked for him until about 03:30, then I didn’t see them anymore. I don’t know if they got him or not. I waited until 07:00 and talked to a few people whose cars I’d seen him in. Sure enough a can of Lysol was missing.

Times are getting truly bad. Desperate people do desperate things and it gets worse with each day. Wherever you live, please be careful. Don’t leave for a weekend if you ordered from Amazon and the driver’s late. Lock your cars, set the alarm. Have an alarm system installed in your home. Don’t let your children out of your sight.

Let the police do their jobs.

Be ever alert; be safe. Ground floor windows should be locked at night. Always avoid strangers on foot. Carry pepper spray and a personal weapon.

Be careful out there.

Not My Favorite Kind Of Post

There’s a reason for my previous post about self defense. This insane shit is one part of it.

Do not talk politics at work. With neighbors. At church. At the market. And never with strangers. Because that innocent looking person at the magazine rack, the blonde at the laundromat, the bartender, the mild-mannered quiet guy next door who never bothered to introduce himself and gives an innocent smile while trimming the hedge…

Consider them unstable, vicious and violent denizens of the hate community and keep a low profile while going about your business.

Now, this dude is insane. Well, that is, he was insane. Now he’s stinking up the slab of a morgue, a martyr for the masses of insane who worship that twit, Donald Trump.

And if you think dying for trying to do something boneheaded like attacking an FBI field office is valiant, then you need help beyond the means of modern mental health care abilities.

Even the conservative farmer in this video says that’s nuts.

After the FBI raided (executed a warrant at) Trump’s equivalent of Escobar Castle, which made Mar-a-Lago look like a San Francisco pimp spread, anchors on Fox News and screwy, looney op-ed and blog writers began claiming that the Feds had carried backpacks into the buildings to plant evidence. Trump seems to have commented with faulty timing that he had nothing to hide until files were carted out, then he began crying about planted evidence.

But that’s not all because Garland has ordered the release of the subpoena from earlier this year, a receipt for which was signed, and now Trump’s lawyers are rushing to block that release because it proves Trump was lying and in contempt of court for failing to turn all but a portion of the documents over, which is why the raid was necessary in the first place. Ignoring a bench warrant, subpoena, or any other written demand by a judge is stupid. But Trump’s looney lawyers don’t seem able to convince him of that. He just orders a couple of buckets of KFC and watches Fox News (pity the housekeeping staff who have to pick up the chicken bones and mop the commode).

The real problem is that Trump has established a base of fanatical support without really appreciating how far it was going. Except that, also without knowing it, he was used by more astute and sinister men who allowed him to front for them while they set the stage for a fascist or totalitarian coup.

It just looks like a mess on the surface.

It’s anything but. And this fall, how you vote is critical.

On the streets, you have to stay out of this. Protect yourself, do not allow yourself to be at ease anywhere. If you don’t already have a wish list for the site I gave in the self defense post, go now and look it over. I don’t want you to court trouble; at the same time, I do want you to be ready for it.

Jesus is supposed to have said something about turning the other cheek. At no point is he quoted as saying, Thou shalt be submissive whilst a stranger cuts thy throat.

These violent nuts are everywhere and I don’t want them to hurt you, me, or anyone.

In fact, it’s so bad that, at this point, it’s an amazingly delicate thing to discuss the latest episode of a TV series at the water cooler or over coffee in the break room. You might offend someone who reads political or social statements into your words. It’s insane.

Some guy–another Trump-sucker–went to kill the FBI with that ubiquitous piece of shit, the AR-15. He’s dead now. That’s the kind of enemy to be feared, not unlike other suicidal extremists, and you know who I mean. Fanatics. Extremists. Far from the religion or political group they came from.

Be cautious. Be aware. Be safe.

But temper caution; it must never turn into paranoia. You deserve better. Being careful is good enough. You can’t get trapped in a cave you never enter.

Rise of the Barbarians, Downfall of Humanity

Caution: the following post contains mature and disturbing subject matter and may trigger certain individuals. Please proceed with care.

Kings County Hospital

Brooklyn, NY

July 31, 1977

People thought it was safe. He had never struck in Brooklyn.

But it wasn’t safe.

The nurse can’t exactly describe what she felt that night. She recalls reporters snapping pictures of the victim being taken from the ambulance and feeling anger. She looks back and knows they had scanners or police radios, and that’s how they knew where to be. But that doesn’t help. The pictures taken still exist, and that’s sickening.

The nurse had heard that the victims were coming in: the .44 Caliber Killer was feared to have struck again.

Two victims, one male, one female, both 20-years-old, had head wounds. The emergency room went into overdrive; the trauma center geared up.

The nurse knew the young woman was going to die. Two huge slugs through the brain. The shock caused one eye to become partially extruded. The slugs had wrought profound damage, easily visible: severe blood loss and swelling, or edema. The nurse was looking at a corpse with its heart still beating.

No matter what, the surgeons tried to save her. Even when it won’t work, they try. The only exception to the head wound rule comes after a firefight. Medics in the field mark the casualty “expectant” and handle as well as medevac those who can be saved first. It sounds cold, but lives get saved, the ones who can be saved, as opposed to sacrificing one for a soldier who is basically already gone. Forget pulse and respiration; they stopped being who they were when the round from an AK-47 turned their brain into gray bits mixed with blood.

But for 36 hours, doctors worked on the woman. She was in ICU and the OR several times.

The young nurse went home and told her mother it wasn’t good. To this day she knew that she had worked on a dying woman. The time finally came for doctors to call time of death: 17:22 EDT.

The couple, Stacy Moskowitz and Robert Violante, had been parked in a Brooklyn lover’s lane. It was their first date. Those situations were how the .44 Caliber Killer always struck. Couples parked, bothering no one, hearts full of the pangs of love. And now he had done so in Brooklyn.

Between the summers of 1976 and 1977, but actually beginning in late 1975, the killer had terrorized all of New York City. Police were taunted by letters from him and by August 1977, he knew exactly where to go to avoid a 300-man task force and their dragnet. And he had just targeted his first blonde-haired woman. Not his M.O., but it shows that he intended to keep killing. He was never going to stop.

They turned out to be the final victims of serial killer David Berkowitz, a k.a. the .44 Caliber Killer. Best known as: Son of Sam.

He was captured by police a short time later and said, as if it meant nothing, “Well, you got me.”

He was confined to Kings County Hospital for psychiatric observation. The Nurse was there when they brought him in. She was watching through the glass, concealed but able to see and hear.

Her first sight of him made her blood run cold. What she cannot forget is the smirk he wore on his face: here was pure evil encased in a human body. He was deemed competent to stand trial three times. He was tried, convicted of second degree murder and attempted second degree murder. He pleaded guilty. The sentence: 25 to life.

He did time in Attica and Sing Sing.

He survived a murder attempt. Then he became an evangelical Christian. He cannot use a computer but other evangelicals maintain a website for him. Why, I don’t know. He’s been the subject of documentaries and has been allowed interviews. He gets no royalties but has published. He is not being punished. He is being coddled.

The injustice of it sickens me.

In Baltimore there’s a history of prosecutors refusing to try violent perpetrators. Guns are an even bigger problem now than ever. Street violence is a plague, an epidemic. There’s little you or I can do about it. Until mayors and prosecutors do their jobs, the police won’t do theirs. And when things are that bad, chaos and death rule every day.

While serial-and-mass murderers get headlines decades after either being killed, caught or escaping, it is the everyman or everywoman most at risk from gun crimes. And we do nothing but make videos, watch the news while we eat dinner and we don’t even belch.

I used to see very graphic footage on local news channels. The anchors would warn that it could be disturbing. Instead it numbed a nation of barbarians. People didn’t care.

***

The Rise of the Barbarians did not begin with the Son of Sam. Nor with the “Manson Family”. It cannot be pinned to any date, any place. Certainly not with any one person. We can trace certain things through Ancestry and written history, but we can only go so far with either. All we can do is pin certain places to certain times and notable people.

When Europe first began sending immigrants to “America”, they were not sending their best people. They were sending rapists and murderers. The settlement of an already occupied land turned the very soil red with blood. The world has never been the same.

Being aware of Ancient Greece and Egypt, Babylon, Assyria and Asian nations, mostly loosely associated with allies but always at war, we cannot claim that North America is the beginning of Barbarians. But we certainly have followed their path. I have roots in Belgium, Germany, England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. There were ancestors on the Maflower. Daniel Boone was my 6th great uncle. Some later fought for both sides in the Civil War. Some fought in just about every war the United States has waged. Relatives fought the British in the Revolutionary War while others fought in red coats. Same as the War of 1812. None of this makes any sense to me. It should not make any sense to anyone.

History is not pretty. While videos like documentaries are sometimes good, most are laden with traps like conspiracy theories and outright misinformation.

But never in history have we been more barbaric than we are right now. You can try to point to something particular in history; an event that changed everything, like August 6, 1945, the single bomb that shook the world. You’d have a valid point. But not the only one. You can argue, but then you would be using a narrow view. History does not tolerate that.

No one really knows who developed the first war ships. By the time of the Peloponnesian War, the Athenians had a fearsome fleet. Sparta may have won, but the seas ran red. It was costly. Egypt fought many wars and conquered part of the western Middle East. By the time of the reign of Cleopatra, the pyramids were already ruins. Rome invaded and the once mighty Egypt was occupied, as had been Greece. Rome, like Egypt and Greece, inherited and improved weapons and war tactics. To see legions marching toward you was to know true fear. The Spanish decimated Central America. Warfare was constantly being refined and improved upon. Killing was what fed the people.

By the middle ages armor and weapons had not progressed much. Swords, spears, halberds, shields and bows had been strengthened and catapults refined as trebuchets which when aligned in groups were terrifying. The castle became obsolete, but Alexander the Great had already defeated many fixed fortifications with siege towers. Now, armies could lay waste from a distance. That’s as far as the progress went. Until gunpowder.

It wasn’t until World War I that true mass butchery with artillery, machine guns, and mustard gas was possible. Death by the numbers. Shelling drove men mad. The old saying “Never light three on a match” was said because by the time three cigarettes were lit, nighttime snipers had acquired a target. Either rifle or machine gun fire would tear through them and anyone close.

The saying became a superstition popularized just after the war ended. Some believe it came from World War Two but the superstition was already well known.

The bloody war taught nobody anything. The Treaty of Versailles was so hard on Germany that Hitler took it as an excuse to build the military in violation of it. Every part of that Treaty was adhered to, like dead tonnage in naval vessels, by the west. Not Germany. The slow speeds and thin armor of new ships off the line and the restriction that caused obsolete ships to remain in service, not to mention aircraft, made Pearl Harbor possible. It also indirectly led to unnecessary casualties by the Allies in the first years of the war in Europe and the Pacific.

Even by the Battle of Midway, torpedo bombers, the TBD-1 Devastator, were shot out of the sky. They were slow, easy targets. Even if one got through the screen of Japanese fighter planes and anti-aircraft fire, the torpedoes rarely even exploded.

So the Allies learned very quickly to adapt. By war’s end, the United States had the most fearsome navy the world had ever seen. So many fast carriers were without a job that they were mothballed. Heavy carriers were still being scrapped in the 1990s. I actually saw the mighty USS Bunker Hill being taken apart. Every day, the hulk got smaller until I could not even see it. She was a big part of the war in the Pacific. She was also my favorite.

But the atomic age rendered her useless.

That doesn’t mean we are any less barbaric. Now we have huge carriers able to launch planes that can refuel in the air and fire missiles with a range of miles or bomb a target with incredible precision. Helicopter rescuers are able to save pilots who had to eject over water. In World War Two and Korea that was rare.

***

It is a clear picture of barbarism that as Russians pulled back to Kyiv, they left evidence behind that shocked the world. Bodies of women and children and non-combatants lay in the streets. Some shot, others garotted, some strangled by bare hands. I don’t need to read that women were raped first. I know.

Russia’s attack and invasion of Ukraine has been condemned around the world. But the people of Ukraine fight alone. Sanctions against Russia are a pitiful response and everyone believes that anything more will start World War Three. It may. Reports have it that Putin is isolated, his leaders afraid to tell him anything. That he is also unstable.

No matter how that war ends, it won’t be the last. No matter how we restrict gun sales, the killing will not stop. Police are afraid to do their jobs. They walk a beat or get out of a cruiser and things are thrown at them. Cell phone cameras do not show provocation but instead the users wait desperately to catch them doing anything wrong. Some neighborhoods can’t get an emergency response because the police are targets and can’t go in without lots of backup. The news will not report this. Yet it happens to be more true every day. If I were 18, the last choice I would make for a career is law enforcement.

Law and order are being taken from us. Violence rules the streets, with gangs everywhere. Republicans don’t prosecute their own.

Otherwise, people treat each other with diminishing respect. We’ve become hardened; numb and suspicious.

When the Roman Empire used the noun “barbarians” it simply meant people other than Roman citizens. Today it means people who are not civilized or are evil. People like Son of Sam. The Sandy Hook shooter. The Parkland shooter. The Vegas sniper.

People like evangelical, rich preachers are evil. They lead the masses to falsely believe that tithing will prompt God to help them get rich. It won’t; you have to be a sociopathic scammer for that. Murders, wars and thievery in God’s name is an abomination. Period.

We are killers, pedophiles and rapists, drug dealers and pimps, pirates, scammers, liars; barbarians.

Imagine breaking a bone and not having insurance, or inadequate plans. The bills will bury you. Now picture needing surgery to pin bones back together. You’re going to be hounded by nasty phone calls and bills that keep on coming. Then they ruin your credit score.

That’s not even the worst of it. Imagine now that you’re sent home without a prescription for pain, that the doctor tells you to take Advil. It takes 8 weeks, sometimes longer, for a break to mend. That’s if you’re not diabetic. Then who knows when it will stop hurting. Imagine watching a relative suffering from cancer with no narcotics. They’re going to die and the doctor won’t prescribe a pain killer because “those are addictive“!

You ever heard a gunshot victim screaming in pain? Once you do, you will never forget it. Ever seen someone gut-shot, their intestines all over the ground? If they’re lucky they pass out. Multiple surgeries follow, a colostomy, perhaps permanent. Always in pain. How about a spinal injury? Even a compressed disk is excruciating and no bones are even broken. Your every move hurts. They send you home with muscle relaxers so weak that you can’t feel any relief and that does not even treat the real problem.

The “opiod crisis” never existed. People who overdosed mixed meds or also drank died. It wasn’t suicide. It was accidental most of the time; pain can be so intense that one can forget a dose was taken or else be desperate.

The main advantage of opiates for pain is that if you are in very severe pain, taking it on schedule can prevent it from getting too intense. Once it’s at that point, your medicine isn’t as effective. But enough about that. Let’s talk progressive and liberal politicians. While arguing for better Healthcare they bitched about opiates. You see the problem? I contacted my representative. I’ve called out politicians and activists on Twitter. Friends have shared the link to my petition on Facebook and Instagram. It is not going well. My tweet about losing my son went to 50,800 likes, and now comments are being deleted. I get more likes every day, more people share horror stories and no one I’ve tagged has even bothered to respond. Not even activists. The likes topped off at 50.8k likes. I don’t think Twitter likes it at all. I took attention away from the war, the pandemic and Will Smith.

But this part of our existence is the final proof. We are barbarians. We’re going backwards and nobody notices. They believe politicians and documentaries over science and human rights. In an age when we can treat pain we are refused treatment.

If that surprises you, look at the shameful way children are abused and neglected with abusers rarely being held accountable.

Doctor Pedo

A pediatrician in Delaware used to insist that infants and toddlers be seen without the parents present. He was raping them. How any parent ever allowed this unsupervised doctor to treat their children is beyond me but he wasn’t questioned and it went on for a long time. One father said, “I was in the waiting room reading People Magazine while he was raping my daughter.” He lamented that he wasn’t much of a father.

I have to agree with him there. Doctor Earl Bradley was not a child molester. He was a serial child rapist. I’m going to give you a link. But be warned: it is graphic, horrible and will trigger people.

Dr. Earl Bradley sentenced to life without parole

You see a picture of a man whose looks betray the monster within. Filthy, disheveled, offensive.

I use this article after reading and being much more than triggered. But take note here, and make no mistake: other doctors knew. They said nothing to authorities and joked about him at cocktail parties. They made jokes! The first detective who worked a case involving him was told by the Attorney General that he couldn’t do anything. Investigation stopped there. The rapes continued while victims’ parents tried to warn others away. They were called liars and nuts. Once you read how he got caught and convicted, you will come away wondering how often this happens. The article claims child abuse by doctors is rare. Well, it isn’t. The victims are traumatized and cannot articulate what happened. Sex abuse and rape is more common to adults. So they claim. I contend that nobody can know that for certain and the claim is invalid. This animal got away with his crimes for years.

The one thing you must take from this is who the victims are, and the list of more potential victims keeps growing. In Florida, banning any mention in schools about the LGBTQ community is a setting for death. It means nutty anti-LGBTQ haters can declare open season amongst themselves. In Ohio, as Ohio does, the same law is being taken up. In Oklahoma all abortions are now illegal, with no exceptions save for the mother’s life being in danger. Doctors can get ten years, pay a 100,000 dollar fine and lose their medical license. Oklahoma is a poor state. Most red states are. If a woman is raped she can’t even get a morning after pill. The poor cannot travel out of state and still afford medical procedures. If you agree that we are a nation of barbarians, stand by. Much worse will follow. The hatred of women is out of its cage. It can’t be reined in. Not that there really was a cage; now though, it’s going to be everywhere, more open and much more lethal.

You see how Republicans stick together no matter what. You see that they want a swastika flying at the White House. You see how doctors cover for each other. They will not counter another doctor’s refusal to give pain meds to those who clearly need it. They tell you “your pain is all in your mind” and they can’t get rid of your file fast enough and move on to someone else. Cookie cutter healthcare with sadism from top to bottom.

You can say whatever you like. When the time comes, and it’s your turn to hurt, what will you do? Pain brings the toughest and most stubborn to their knees in tears. I’ve seen it.

***

The nurse remembers one more thing from the night Stacy Moskowitz was brought to Kings County Hospital. The mother.

Mrs. Moskowitz was heartbreaking to see. The nurse will never forget the wailing and plaintive words she screamed. She was the last true victim of Son of Sam. She never recovered.

I want to fight for women’s rights. For LGBTQ rights and protection. But I had to start somewhere. One thing at a time. So my petition at change.org is for doctors to treat pain properly. To be a patient and expect to be treated properly. Many can be saved. Pain or suicide is a sadistic choice to give anyone. We need the people to rejoin society and we have no right keeping them from it.

Sign this, and give me–give us–hope.

https://chng.it/2zjLYVYm

Is Ginni Thomas An Insurrectionary?

You know what? I’m sick of this bullshit. The United States is in a delicate situation politically. Republicans have become so evil that I’ve lost all respect for the lot of them. If they remain with the party, then I regard them individually as part of a dangerous political cult and therefore revolutionaries. They are not merely a threat to this country’s government, but a threat to all citizens of the United States.

Make no mistake: that shit show by Ted Cruz, who is supposed to be a graduate of Princeton and Harvard, was nothing short of disgusting and an embarrassment before the world. He showed stupidity, bigotry, misogyny, ignorance of the Constitution and plain, old-fashioned lunacy and wasn’t aware of just how terrible he looked.

Cruz is the kind of guy who you alternately have to laugh at and then want to get piss-drunk over because he’s an actual senator. He is the definition of the Ugly American; he sees things in the tiniest of views possible and still can’t understand what he really sees. For an allegedly magna cum laude law school graduate, and I say allegedly because that boggles my mind; he’s so incredibly stupid.

But Republicans appeared to have, at least one or two of them, castigated Cruz for his performance, which more closely resembled a toilet overflowing than a senator questioning a United States Supreme Court nominee. How brave of them!

But he’s only the poster boy for one symptom of the radicalism infecting the Republicans. The latest has to be Ginni Thomas, wife of the Sleeping Supreme Court Judge Clarence Thomas, who is missing in action and a forbidden subject for the Republicans, who refuse to even say if he’s still in the hospital or not, following a stay for an infection. The reason is fodder for conspiracy theories but it’ll come out. That’s Mitch McConnell hoping Thomas doesn’t croak and leave another seat for Biden to fill.

Ginni Thomas is a right-wing– wait. I was going to say “activist”, but that’s far too understated. Her texts make her look as if Donald Trump was doing a weird Rasputin thing on her.

As if that day weren’t sickening enough, horrifying enough, now we (I’m just getting this) hear and see proof that the wife of a Supreme Court Judge was engaged in the insurrection with some truly astounding language. I’ll never again be caught in surprise by Republicans.

But I am still waiting for key Democrats to grow a pair. Perhaps then the Ginni Thomas types will shut their mouth and know their role.

Baltimore Man Says No Area Of The City Is Safe

In this WJZ CBS Baltimore article, the story is beyond grim and should be a wake-up for anyone who thought my posts about how dangerous Baltimore City really is were sensationalist.

I don’t live there. Some consider me to therefore be unqualified to write about it, but with being an observer and philosopher as well as a Christian, how am I not supposed to at least try to help others?

A man who did not wish to be named said it all: no neighborhood, no places, not even the tourist attractions of the Inner Harbor, are safe. As of yesterday, 23 March, and since Friday, 20 people had been shot. That, folks, is reason enough to avoid the city line from every directional approach. WJZ tweeted the link, and I read it, and found renewed reason to repeat what I have been writing for years: do not go to Baltimore City. Avoid it at all costs.

I had a chance to get tickets to Paul McCartney at Camden Yards stadium and I’ve always wanted to see him play. I did not even consider it. He has not been here since the Beatles, and this event will never happen again. But it’s a no-brainer; the danger isn’t worth seeing one of the greatest rock singers of all time. That is truly depressing.

With many amazing things to do and see, Baltimore had earned its place for tourists. There’s the Constellation, sister ship to the Constitution up in Massachusetts. The last of the triple-mast, square rigged frigates still afloat, both are a sight to behold, wondrous to explore.

How about a World War Two submarine? They have it. The Science Center, great for all ages. The National Aquarium. Restaurants to satisfy refined or jaded tastes. Baltimore has so much to offer.

The problem is that you aren’t safe there. Shooters pull triggers and don’t care who they kill. They just do it, and the motive is rarely known. It seems arbitrary at times, as if killing itself is all the shooter is after.

Robbery? You can die for being seen at an ATM getting cash. Anger, madness or lunacy, none of that seems to be red flag stuff; there’s no clear reason for toddlers or seniors to be murdered, and there’s nobody to see about that. Police can’t lock up someone behaving erratically and no arrest can be made unless a crime has been committed and there is a suspect. You can’t handcuff someone just for being a big-mouthed asshole. It doesn’t matter what cops think a person is going to do; this isn’t Minority Report.

How likely you are to be the victim of violence in Baltimore changes with every assault and every homicide, but percentages are transcendental figures I despise: you gonna go tell a man’s family that he’s dead because you checked the risk percentages and figured an Orioles game would be cool to attend? Go ahead. Try some shit like that and see the gratitude in their eyes, except it won’t be gratefulness you see. In fact, don’t go near them unless you’re wearing a catcher’s mask.

I’m sorry for having to write these posts.

But I say again, avoid Baltimore City at all costs. Whatever you lose, at least you’ll still be alive.

“On Shaky Ground…”

An idiom which means the same thing despite many uses, to be “on shaky ground” is generally not a good place to be.

If life were more confined, with less possible choices and therefore less chaos, then perhaps the meaning and use of such expressions would be lost on us. Maybe we would never have needed them at all.

Yes, except that we angry, scared and greedy humans must live our lives in chaos and on shaky ground. And I’m not speaking here in only a general sense; it seems impossible now to look back and fail to apply it to everyone else I’ve known. Myself included, of course, because I’m many things, but ‘sociopath’ is not one of them. To be honest, the word “asshole” is more than adequate.

When Dolly Parton withdrew her name from this year’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominees, it was confusing at first. Reports were too vague for me to make out why she had done so. It seemed to be a case of snottiness, because that’s what the headlines and vague stories led me to believe, plus, she was never really a niche rock singer. I couldn’t find any information on the original source, and that’s today’s reporting for you: entertainment news has had too much of a problem with being accurate for years, counting on just headlines, magazine sales and online clicks to get sponsors. Vagueness or skewed writing had become accepted by the consumer, who had grown up with tabloids stuffed into racks at the supermarket checkout lanes. Stars were reported to be carrying aliens’ “love” children and such nonsense. Hell, they didn’t even have to be pregnant to get that treatment; all they needed was a name people would know.

The truth is so easy to have gotten across. Parton didn’t want to split the votes and although she felt complimented, she was humble. That’s a trait or characteristic which far too few people value, much less recognize.

And then we have the story of Trevor Noah, who will be hosting this year’s Grammy Awards ceremony. He said something recently about the activities of Ye, a mess of a man formerly known as Kanye West. I say “mess” because he’s always been on edge, always in the news for the wrong things, and as time flew by, he also managed to have four children with his now ex-wife, Kim Kardashian. And look, I’m not being unfair here. Those who live in the spotlight are always going to grab a headline when they screw up. I’m sorry, but that’s the way of things and if a celebrity doesn’t like it, there’s little that they can do about it. Humans are voyeuristic and nosy and gossip-driven. It’s in our DNA. A boring life can be alleviated by knowing everything everyone else is doing.

In the case of Ye, he was Trevor Noah’s subject for something extremely grim and frightening. Noah said that no matter how you feel about Kardashian, what Ye is doing to her is evil. It amounts to stalking. Gaslighting. Terrorism. It’s damaging and traumatizing both to she and her children, and I’m sorry: nothing but monsters do that shit.

It’s serious stuff, scary to even read about and it’s come out in full display in Ye’s social media posts. Twitter would go on to suspend his account for one day for how he answered Trevor Noah, including a racial epithet. What’s more than scary is his video, put to rap, of him dismembering Kardashaian’s boyfriend.

I don’t pretend to be an authority on the Kardashian thing, a phenomenon I frankly never understood and to which I have taken great pains to ignore. I simply observed the sensational headlines and found that they were always sickening. Someone was always into something in that family, and half of the time I believe it was pressure by the show’s producers or sponsors. “Produce sensational material and we’ll make you rich; fail and the world will forget you.” That sort of thing.

It does not matter what I think, or in what esteem I held the show and the family; Ye has been banned from attending this year’s Grammys despite being a nominee. His behavior has been, to my mind, highly suspect for decades. If he’s gone too far, it is the future that’s really very important. Given his wealth and power, I believe Kim Kardashian and her children are in danger, and that her new love should hire extra bodyguards and wear Kevlar from head to foot. He’s in a rotten position. All are on shaky ground.

Lest you think that I’m going too hard on Ye, let’s take a look at something nobody ever wants to hear or read about: violence against women, stalking and how tragic it can be, and a society that legally and morally looks the other way.

Ye is a stalker and even though research has been inadequate, one source in 2006 used many other sources to attempt to more efficiently provide some insight into the stalkers and their victims. As you’ll see, the article from 2006 is rather dated and yet still chilling, the bottom line being that no victim is likely to escape being physically or psychologically (or both) damaged. The damage of course includes posttraumatic stress disorder, PTSD. But property crimes, arson and constant, unwanted contact (and since the article was written, alarming use of social media and internet misuse including data breaches) are a reality victims face in roughly two thirds, if not more, of all cases. Worst of all is the predictable end, in which statistics fail to account for all of the rapes, assaults, kidnappings and homicides. The actions of the stalker and the reactions of their victim can escalate an already dangerous situation: the stalker ultimately seeks power, and as time goes on, their unrelenting terrorism shows the victim’s weakening resistance; not because the victim is more willing to give in but more that they have limits, and those limits can then be exploited by most stalkers.

Something less known is that former victims are often prime targets for other predators, who see everything. They read body language and watch for things like fearful glances around them at secluded but public places where lack of a crowd or daylight makes them feel vulnerable. Predators like rapists don’t care how old or what race you are, and certainly never care about how one is dressed. They look for opportunity and they know how to take advantage of everything they see and hear. This is about power, getting an upper hand and getting the most out of it.

I’d encourage you to research further. Why it took until the last part of the 20th century to finally make serious inquiries into stalking and domestic abuse is, absolutely, the 2nd rate citizen roles of women in developed countries and yet it has always been a real problem. Police didn’t like handling radio calls for domestic a use, still don’t, and as far as stalkers go, even if officers believed the victims, their hands were tied. There were no legal provisions and nothing a court of law could do.

When I contacted police about a stalker tailing and surveilling me, they laughed in my face. “You’re a man,” they said, dismissing me.

All genders and all races, religions and professional types can be stalked. Sometimes it’s obsession, as in a fan for a star. Sometimes it’s an ex. Sometimes it’s someone who, the stalker believes, secretly loves them or has, in some way, wronged them.

If you are the victim of a stalker or have a friend who is, this link could be helpful. If you experience an emergency even if, as many do, you have your denial or doubts, call 911 in the US or the emergency number in your country. Remember that it’s better to err on the side of safety than to find out what a predator can really do.

As for Ms. Kardashian and her children, I think some prayers are in order.

Some things to consider:

•Be observant and aware. If you have patterns in your route to work, your social life, or anything else that you can change, do it. Leave early for work, have your car fueled, and take long, congested routes. Avoid using the same route more than twice per week and never on consecutive days. If you begin seeing the same car no matter what you do, call police while still en route. Drive to a police station if you can. Don’t just park, actually go in and report it.

•Keep a diary of all phone calls and texts, screenshoot the texts, keep track of times and places you see your stalker and take videos or photos with your phone. Especially note things that happen at late-night hours, like dogs nearby barking, knocking on the door, etc cetera.

•Install an alarm connection to an alarm company and use it. Security and doorknob cameras front and back are essential.

•Keep all cell phones charged. Have batteries for flashlights on hand.

•Avoid shopping when it will be dark when you leave, and never linger until closing time. A nearly deserted parking lot is hostile territory.

•Carry pepper spray with CS gas mixed in. The combination is both effective and will be funny to listen to as you make your escape. Don’t waste time. A nice spray in the eyes, nose or mouth is most effective.

•Take a basic course in self defense. There are even classes for seniors who use canes.

•Change your phone number.

•Change all passwords online, get a new email address and leave social media. I’m serious here. LEAVE.

These measures are not exhaustive and there are plenty more than these. Consult police and security experts who often give free consultation.

Do not, I repeat, not take stalking lightly. Many people at first think the attention is flattering or bothersome but no big deal. It is a mistake. One that could cost you your life.

Personal Safety During The Holidays

The first thing you need to know about self defense is how to avoid situations where you’ll need it.

To begin with try to avoid visiting the mall after dark. With the days getting shorter, that’s difficult, but it is rule number one. Women especially should shop during daytime, because you can’t be aware of everything around you during your walk to the car in the dark. Beware of anyone who appears to be following you. If you think you’re being followed, follow your instincts. Don’t panic; you need your wits about you. If you aren’t far from the exit, turn around and go back in. Ask security to escort you or call 911. Better to sound the alarm and be safe than to convince yourself it’s nothing and end up a victim.

Look out for men sitting in parked cars especially if parked beside or close to you. They’re suspect enough that again, you should go back and ask security to walk you out or report it to police. These guys could be anything from pervs to killers.

When making purchases make sure nobody is close enough to take a picture of your card. Never give a cashier personal information; they don’t need it.

Phone and email scams are terrible at this time. They may solicit donations or tell you they are from Social Security or your local police department. Never give them any information of any kind. Watch for fake calls from “Microsoft” where the caller says you have a virus and tries to get you to enter anything on your PC. Microsoft, Social Security and the IRS do not make phone calls.

Do not click any unfamiliar links in an email from a new sender. All of these tricks are to mine your electronic purchase information, whether directly or through malware.

Avoid groups milling about in malls or parking lots. Especially older teens.

At home use secure wifi access for online purchases. Never do it on public hotspots.

Shop online only at established businesses; anything you’ve never done business with should be exhaustively researched first.

Use a door camera but password protect it along with a second layer of security. Porch pirates are in season, and you really should have someone at home if you are expecting a delivery. Ask neighbors to watch or even take your delivery inside their house until you get home.

Do not carry large amounts of cash. A purse or wallet will be visible to anyone watching.

Carry a combination of pepper spray and CS (riot gas). Guaranteed to make anyone useless until you get clear.

Don’t carry a gun without a permit and unless you’ve trained and qualified as a marksman– the instant you hesitate or fumble with the safety, your opponents will take it from you and shoot you.

Illegal weapons should be avoided. You’ll be the one getting a ride to Central Booking. But if you must, I’d suggest brass knuckles. One punch to the face should do. Umbrellas and canes do well also. Check YouTube for simple tutorials on self defense with canes.

Dress for the weather. Cold and rain take your attention away from your surroundings.

Take walks with family or friends. Don’t go anywhere alone.

Limit your in-person shopping to the least expensive items on your list; when another person sees you purchasing expensive things, you’re a mark.

Be paranoid but not panicked. It is a festive time of year but crimes can come to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

If you are wise, take care of yourself. Eat right, sleep well, and your alertness can save you.

Remember that this year a lot of people have left jobs over mask mandates; loads of people are desperate. If you see something, say something.

Be careful, okay? Please be careful.

Baltimore, MD: Harm City

2016 and 2019 were the deadliest years in recent Baltimore history, but at the rough count of 320 homicides, this year has the potential to break a record.

Crime in the city is bad enough. Enough for me to periodically warn others against going there.

But the city that goes by the nickname “Charm City” is often euphemistically called “Harm City” and don’t it fit? There’s something about the population total and the homicide rate that sets the city among the most dangerous in the United States, and at night, the streets are so dangerous that both police and decent, law-abiding citizens just don’t like being on them.

The homicides are only one part of Baltimore’s crime problem. Assaults, armed robbery, rape, grand larceny, mugging and a rash of ATM thefts are complemented by a corrupt city government and police force. these figures are from the beginning of 2021; and as if it were a yearly competition, Baltimore will end this year in the top 5 most dangerous cities, probably at a solid 3 or 4.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that all of Baltimore is unsafe, and municipal violent crime is usually restricted to sections of a city. This means that traveling to see a Ravens or Orioles game, or a visit to see the aquarium or the Constellation, would most likely be a safe activity.

But don’t count on it. And you certainly should not bet your life on it.

After a sports match, crowds fill the streets, and in the mass of people are many perfect targets; you shouldn’t be caught off guard. You may be one of those targets. Obvious tourists are prime marks. Park in a garage and talk loudly enough amongst yourselves about which way to go, and you’ll have advertised the fact that you’re from out-of-town. Always check your six–look behind you and don’t act frightened, but do make sure you’re not being watched or followed.

I advise carrying a defensive spray that combines pepper and CS gas. Always go for the face, especially the eyes and nose. Don’t carry weapons. If you have one, you’ll either be forced to use it or have it used on you. And if you’re in that situation in the first place, you’ve already fucked up.

Baltimore used to have enough to offer to be a popular place to visit. But if one out of every 49 or 50 people is likely to be a victim of crime, nothing there is worth it.

Beware when driving, too. One way streets can prevent you from correcting a wrong turn until you’re well inside a danger zone. Find a good path in and out of the city. Use Google Drive and research the route and neighborhoods it will pass through.

In a city where an elderly woman is found dead of multiple stab wounds, I contend that you are not safe, and should avoid the place at all costs.

If you have family there, perhaps it is best that this year for the holidays, they could visit you. Your life may depend on it.

Wishing you safe and healthy holidays, one and all.

BOLO: Spoofed Phone Numbers of Banks

Bank of America users who used a mobile app were called by someone with the same called ID number and the same hold music as their branch. During the call they were told about a large sum they spent, which rang their alarm as “questionable”, hence the call. In the linked article, you’ll see that it’s easy to fall for, but remember: if your bank calls you, or for that matter just about anyone else, either ghost it or hang up. No information should ever be given out over the phone. After clearing off the call, you should call your main branch and check in, reporting the scam. If you’ve seen money leave your account after a call, you have to call the bank anyway. You want your money back.

As a rule of thumb, I never answer my phone unless it’s from someone I know, and then I still better really hear their voice, or I’m hanging up. If the caller ID comes up as a business, I already think it’s a spoofed number, as I’ve seen spoofs done for years. They’re hardly new but used to be rare. Now, not so much.

Once I got a call with the Fios logo and number. I came very close to being scammed before I caught on and hung up the phone.

Don’t feel bad if you get fooled. The fact is, they sometimes are convincing, but don’t punish yourself in any event. Alert your bank and credit card company as well as the police, and never give any information over the phone again. Als o, when using an app for transactions, do not follow the instructions of anyone calling you. That’s always a no-go.

Any time you’re called–especially by the IRS or Social Security Administration, hang up immediately. Those never call you; you get a piece of mail indicating that you should call them instead. You’re going to be answered by a recorded menu and put on hold, but that’s when you know you’re on the right track. They will not ask you for your information because once you identify yourself by the mail you received, they’re already looking at your information on their monitor. That’s how it works, period.

Be careful. With September begins the busiest time of year for scammers and porch pirates. Come December, your biggest problem should be buying the goose or ham and puzzling over what to get that uncle who’s never happy with anything and who gives you a truly heinous tie or lace brassiere. Time to get even. Give him an inflatable doll. You know the kind I mean?

Crime Spree: A Small Town In Nebraska

One of my favorite weird news stories made me laugh with every update I read. I neither condone nor encourage serial crimes of any kind, and perhaps the only reason I laughed so hard was because I was on the East coast. Still, we need to consider mental health and provide extraordinary ease of access to healthcare, and the Midwest could be a good place to start…

It began in the spring of 2007. A small town in the Midwest would never be the same. That’s because it went on for over a year, minus a short break, until the fall of 2008.

Maybe the church was first, but it really doesn’t matter. By the time the police chief was preparing to stake the church out at night, the problem had spread. And the chief would say to local reporters, “Hey, it ain’t funny.”

Whether it was funny or not depends on an individual’s point of view, but the chief was downright grim about it. Perhaps, to some, his attitude made it even more hilarious.

Whatever one felt about it, though, the crimes continued. To listen to a woman who worked in a store that had been targeted, it was nothing but terrorism. Pure and simple.

Then it got worse. The police chief convinced himself that more than one person was involved, and that was scary indeed.

Because when you’re the chief in a Midwestern town of less than three thousand people, you don’t want to think someone can go on night after night, staging a crime spree that you hope never makes it to the national press, because if it does, you’re not going to look too good. And the chief of police in any small Midwestern town would rather run away and join the carnival than look like he’s incapable of catching a serial criminal in his small Midwestern town.

But this chief stayed on, even when the story did break national news outlets. He stayed on, because now, maybe it was a bit personal. Besides, who knows, maybe he hated carnies.

But the crimes went on. The local schools were targeted, a rather ominous and sickening turn. On more than one morning, an owner or employee opening a storefront business had the stomach turning lurch hit them like a dose of castor oil. “This is so sick,” they would say, taking a bucket of water, soap and some rags from the back of the store to the front. One source described a woman stifling sobs as she worked, claiming it was “so humiliating.”

And so it went. In one night alone, almost every window at the hotel had been affected. Quiet during the winter, spring 2008 seemed a time when the perpetrator was playing catch-up. The whole town was in the hazard zone; no business or dwelling was safe.

By then the unsub (unknown subject) had long since been given a handle: The Butt Bandit. He never stole anything, never even illegally entered any of his targeted structures. I suppose that, what with the nature of the crime, the word “Butt” was inevitable; “Bandit” just seemed to round out the moniker nicely.

But by then he was a legend. No one could catch him. Only one witness had fleetingly seen him. The description went like this: tall and thin. That’s it. Mainly, of course, because it was a small Midwestern town, and during the hours in which the unsub struck, there weren’t many people even awake.

I’m not really convinced, nor was I back then, that law enforcement was all that keen about catching the unsub. Because, after all, that’d be one messy bust. Grease plus dirty ass plus a ton of paperwork equal one job no copper in their right mind would look forward to.

And it surely took a long time. By the summer of 2008, the unsub was more active than ever. He even repeated attacks on previous targets. The woman who stifled sobs now scrubbed away with teeth-gritting hysteria.

Because the Butt Bandit really wasn’t funny, unless you lived on the Atlantic coast like me and could just read about it, never getting used Vaseline Petroleum Jelly on your hands.

That’s right: the unsub would walk to a target, drop trou, smear his butt cheeks, and sometimes his scrotum and penis as well, then bend over and lean backward against a window, press as if using a rubber stamp, and leave a very clear print on the glass for all to see.

Finally, late into the fall of ’08, he was somehow–finally–caught in the act. Charges of vandalism (at least nine counts, which didn’t begin to touch everything that he had, uh, touched) and wrecking up the peace of the small Midwestern town. The Butt Bandit…was busted.

But sometimes, there are things you never get over. So it is with the small Midwestern town of Valentine, Nebraska. Oh, they may not wish to talk about it, but it’s never been forgotten.

I believe that in half a century, the Butt Bandit will take his place alongside other folk legend characters, becoming immortal.

I thought I would tell this to help you get your mind off Trump.

Huh? Donald Trump?

Oh, he’s going to be immortalized, too. Next to him, the Butt Bandit will be a national hero.

YEAH.

John Frederick Thanos

It was April. The fifth, to be exact. At the Eastern Correctional Institute, a medium-security prison in Westover, Maryland, the system failed and an inmate was out-processed eighteen months earlier than he should have been.

Now of course, these things happen. I can’t say how often; usually we read about a prisoner sentenced to eighteen months, yet still inside after twenty years. Prisoners released too early, however, as in the case of John Frederick Thanos, can bring trouble to the outside. In short order, the world would know that lesson all too well. John Patrick O’Donnell, clerk for the prison records, for whatever reason he had, asked his boss, Chief of Classification for the Maryland Department of Corrections, Warren R. Sparrow, about releasing prisoner John Thanos. And just like that, two men became, through sheer carelessness, responsible for turning a monster loose on the State of Maryland. He got a handgun.

You know where this is going.

It turned out that the man had some violent tendencies, so before I go any further, it has to be asked why a rapist served time at a medium-security prison at all. Rapists are treated far too lightly in Western culture, particularly in the United States. Youve heard the stories — convicted rapists sentenced to two years. Or six months, causing public outcry, and on an occasion or two, putting judges off the bench. On rare occasions, even being disbarred. Recently a judge and several politicians — Republicans — advised women to “keep their legs closed” and other vile things. The question must be answered, why this is so? Why the hell is it possible to send a rapist to light time at a prison not having maximum security? Why is America a rape culture?

And John Thanos was born to evil. It isn’t clear, decades later, what his psychological evaluation consisted of. His mother and sister would later maintain that he was so disturbed that he was incompetent to stand trial. That was immediately cast out as a defense because he was pronounced otherwise, although not without serious mental illnesses, one being borderline personality disorder. And people with that kind of learned behavior and mindset are very often highly dangerous. He had been severely abused by his father, who started out parenting by cutting the heads off animals or breaking their necks for fun in front of the little boy.

He was psychologically abused and sexually abused. His world must have been Hell on Earth. He was in trouble almost from the beginning. And the abuse, cited by his attorneys during trial, seemed to trigger him. He called them names and threw other verbal abuse at them. He was then treated as a “hostile defendant”, a term one does not hear every day. In fact, he was hostile to reporters who asked him questions from the other side of a chain-link fence as he was led from a transport vehicle to the back entrance of the courthouse. He said shocking, weird and crazy things, taunted reporters, and videotape, if I could find it, would truly disturb anyone who sees it for the first time. Thanos even taunted the judge and at one point even stated that he wanted to repeat the crimes. And those crimes…still haunt me.

Somewhere in Baltimore County, on dates I can’t pin down, he shot three people: Billy Winebrenner, Gregory Allen Taylor, and Melody Pistorio, who was only 14. Two killings took place together. Melody was working at or visiting a convenience store. Her parents later sued the DOC for prematurely releasing Thanos. Warren Sparrow got demoted.

By 1992, John Frederick Thanos was convicted and sentenced to Death by Lethal Injection. The first inmate in Maryland to be executed by that method; and the first prisoner executed since the death penalty had been reinstated. But that wasn’t exactly the whole story.

At the sentencing hearing, he rejected all efforts by his family to have his life spared. He said, “I’ve been convicted and I accept it.” And he had this to say when he had the opportunity to make a statement. “I don’t believe I could satisfy my thirst yet in this matter unless I was to be able to dig these brats’ bones up out of their graves right now and beat them into powder and urinate on them and then stir it into a murky yellowish elixir and serve it up to those loved ones,” he said, indicating the families of the victims. Those words will never die. The records all contain them, from sources such as The Washington Post clean across the Atlantic Ocean. Two years would pass. And John Frederick Thanos was put to death. I had mixed feelings about capital punishment before that case. But I thought, regarding a man who graduated from rape to shooting kids in the head — he literally walked up to them, icy cool, and raised the pistol and pulled the trigger — that the death warrant issued from the bench was fully justified. But for me, it never ended there. I never forgot him. And as it happened, later in the same month that Thanos was released from ECI, the prison gained a new inmate — my father.

If you know my story, you know this has to be awful for me. For a long time, I’ve thought ECI was a max prison. I would have thought he would be sent to Jessup, but no. If you don’t know my story, look at my archive. Then you’ll know. Because I remember John Frederick Thanos. And I know, under different circumstances….

There, but for the grace of God, was I.

Category: Crime

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