Trifecta

I watched "Jury Duty" today, much to my pleasure. I now see there is no better system in the world than our own judicial system. Today a case concerning a car crash was adjudicated by Mini-me, J.J. from Good Times, and Judy Tenuta (comedic master of the half-grunt/half-screech brand of humor). These brilliant legal scholars descended on the meat of the case like piranha on a drowning pig. I'm not sure, but at some point I swear I heard Jimmie Walker slip in a "Dynomite" a la 1974. Good to see his career has progressed over the last 34 years!

Of this trifecta of fools the sharpest one seemed to be "Mini-me," who actually asked relevant questions, took notes, and appeared to be lucid during the entire case. Not anything like he looked in the "Surreal Life" drunkenly urinating in a corner by himself.

I hope that if I ever get in trouble they will settle my case in Hollywood, where anyone is guaranteed whatever justice the Nielson ratings approve.

Loser

I always knew most of today's crop of rappers were stupid, but I never knew how stupid. Recently Akon was discovered to have embellished his criminal record in order to gain "street credibility" from hip hop fans. Fabricating crimes? What a colossal puss. It's no wonder more and more young people are throwing their lives down the crapper, looking up to these rejects.

I read a newspaper article last week that summed it up nicely. It dealt with a mother and father getting arrested for fighting. They were arguing over which gang their two-year-old son was going to get into. That's right! Fighting over whether their son would be a Crip or MS-13 gang member. What a wonderful choice. I can hardly wait to find out how the child decides which way he'll throw his life away.

Pope Tour

Well once again a pope decided to tour the United States. It must be fun tooling around the country in that bubble-mobile and hobnobbing with the likes of Cheney and Bush. Why is religion off the table when it comes to criticism or humor? Religious people have no problem criticizing others, or persecuting those that believe differently.

The visit ushered the Pope's new book entitled: How to cover up a pedophile scandal, for dummies. In it he covers a variety of topics. His message to America is as follows:

1) Please forgive us for all the homosexual pedophilia. We've sent all those priests away to third world countries where very little gets media coverage. So bring your kids back to the church.

2) A more current list of sins has been released. Now you can hate yourself for not only birth control and gluttony, but pollution (including littering), environmental apathy, social injustice, causing poverty, and genetic modification. Remember, you are a dirty little worthless piece of flesh without blessing from our lord, the Flying Spaghetti Monster... I mean God.

3) Always vote against any form of scientific research. Those pesky scientists keep doing things like curing disease and making life amenable. God doesn't want that. Your life here on earth should be as miserable as possible to prepare you for the afterlife. So don't rush to the doctor when you get ass cancer. Remember, all is as it should be.

4) Global warming is now a sin, along with environmental apathy. The Pontifical Academy of Science (from which not one research breakthrough has ever come) has skillfully covered the subject. They have decided these problems can be corrected by intense self deprecation and monetary contributions to the church. Kind of like green points, but we like to call them Pontif points.

5) Once again, please refrain from using birth control. Our all powerful master hasn't found a way to best Glaxco-Smith-Klein yet, and it angers him! Besides, we need legions of tithing do-gooders to spread our dogma to as many as possible. We're even considering taking the approach of the Mormon Church and going door to door.

You can order the new book on Amazon for $39.99, but that doesn't count as your weekly church contribution. They use Paypal and ship to your door for an extra fee. As always, thank you and see you on Sunday.

Guns

Once again the gun control Nazi's are seeking to keep honest, law-abiding citizens from owning handguns. The challenge to Washington's law is ridiculous. Anyone, including any vaguely interested third grader, is able to see the D. C. gun control laws enacted in the early seventies have had zero effect on gun violence. In fact, D.C. was credited as the murder capital of the United States in the early nineties, while having a complete ban on handgun ownership.

Some blame Virginia for the problem, suggesting criminals are able to travel a short distance to get their grubby little hands on guns. But that doesn't explain why Virginia has less than one tenth the gun violence as Washington, yet no restrictive gun laws.

As a cop, I want every law-abiding citizen (who takes the time to become proficient with it) to have the option to carry. The simple fact of the matter is the police will come to help you, but they usually arrive two to three minutes after you need it. We can't be everywhere at once. If a shit-stick tries to jack your car, I want him to be met with a bullet in the head. Not to slash your face, hurl you into the street, and drive off with your groceries.

The gun Nazi's have some idealistic belief that deep down all people are nice. That people only hurt others when they're desperate. But that isn't the case. I've seen a fifteen year old thug smash a pizza guy's head in with a brick for nothing other than to take a pie. He wasn't starving. He wasn't underprivileged. He just thought it would be cool to show off to his boys. He, and everyone like him, should be melted down in a giant vat of acid.

Morning Serenade

Early yesterday morning I was called to a home in regard to an ex boyfriend. Evidently the woman threw him out several weeks ago, but he keeps returning. Yesterday he broke into her home while she was out. She tells me, "He is infatuated because he's never had a woman as successful as I am." This, of course, prompts me to investigate the secret of her success, so I ask a few questions.

"Where do you work?" I ask.

"I'm kind of in between jobs right now. I haven't had a steady job in a while."

"How long?" I ask.

"Eight months."

"How do you pay the rent?"

"This place is section eight. The rent is adjusted with my income, which right now is only my welfare check."

"I see," I reply. I guess the ex boyfriend's other girlfriends must have all been homeless.

We search the home to make sure he's not hiding in a closet with a meat cleaver, but he's long gone. During the search we can't help but notice a collection of marijuana pipes, a grinder, and a small bag of weed. My partner writes her a ticket for possession of marijuana. She insists the drugs are not hers, but her nineteen year old nephew. She says she makes him keep his marijuana in her room so her ten year old isn't exposed to it. Very unlikely.

While the search takes place I notice a picture on her computer. Her head is wrapped in some sort of "Badu-like" wrap and she appears to be singing into a microphone. "I'm a singer," she says. "I've used my time unemployed to put together a compilation of music." Then she plays a song on her computer and starts singing to me. Very strange! She keeps singing and, in between the verses, tells stories of how the song originated. "Yeah, I saw this dude at the club. It was love at first sight." She sings a couple of bars. "I went right up to him and told him. We were tight for quite a while."

At this point I was too amused to ask her to stop. The entire scene was bizarre. My coworkers, after giving her the ticket and explaining the charges, asked me, "Was that chick singing to you?"

Bobby Wrong

Ah, Bobby Wrong. What a guy. Last week Bobby Wrong and two cohorts ran from the police. Bobby's pal, the driver, tried to shoot an officer and was gunned down. But I won't comment too much on that other than to say, "Nice shot." Bobby swallowed a big ole bag of crack and wound up in the hospital. But a little background is in order. You see, Bobby has been in trouble before. His is one of my favorite stories.

Bobby was cutting through a neighbor's yard. Without consent, he hops this guy's fence and walks right through the back yard. The old man comes outside and tells Bobby to stay out of his yard. Bobby, being a gang member with a low IQ, tells the man, "Fuck you!" and keeps walking. The old man tells him, "If you come back through my yard I'm gonna let my dogs out."

Bobby comes back fifteen minutes later and again hops the fence. Only this time he's met by two dogs that completely savage him. They tear a massive hunk out of his shoulder before the old man calls them off. Bobby then tells the guy, "I'm gonna get my gun and shoot yo ass!" The old man warns him not to come back.

Infuriated, Bobby goes somewhere (most likely in some abandoned house or sewer culvert) and gets a shotgun. He returns to the yard intent on killing something or someone. He again jumps the fence, only the dogs are now inside. The old man is fifty yards away holding a scoped deer rifle of a large caliber. He tells Bobby, "I told you to stay out of my yard, boy!"

Bobby, realizing he will certainly die if he points the shotgun, jumps back over the fence. Now he's completely enraged. He decides to go get his boys and bring them back to the old man's house. I guess he figures he needs his "gang" to back him up. But Bobby doesn't have any transportation. Or a license. Or a life!

He wanders out to the street waving his rusty shotgun. Instantly he sees an eight year old Mexican kid riding a bike. Without hesitating, he jams the shotgun in the kids face and steals the bike, which is way too small for him. He then pedals furiously down the street, the shotgun balanced precariously on the handlebars.

It is at this very moment one of my coworkers pulls up alongside Bobby in a police cruiser. Bobby's head jerks around violently when he realizes his plans are foiled. He jerks the bike sideways, flips into a ditch, and lands with the bike on top of him. The shotgun clinks down the street harmlessly. Bobby is so angry he's screaming and trying to get out from underneath the bike. My coworker casually walks up and paints Bobby's face with pepper spray. He has to be restrained to a bed and transported to the hospital to treat the dog bites. The nurses shoot him full of Haldol to knock him out so they don't have to listen to his ranting.

He's booked and charged with armed robbery and possession of a firearm by a convicted felon. That was six years ago and he's already out, running from the police again.

Critical Thinking

If one starts out with a belief and reads only things that support that belief, ignoring all contrary evidence, then one is not engaged in critical thinking. The scientific method begins with evidence. Leads to hypotheses. Then, you try like hell to prove the theory wrong. You don't exclude evidence that disproves your theory for the sake of continuing said idea. That's crazy!

Take the flame witches above. If I were to buy into magic, I'd say these were pictures of some spirit seeping into our world. But I know they're not. I know they are one flame mirrored against itself. Thousands of shots were taken until something manifested into an image recognizable to us. Not magic.

Jehovah

For no apparent reason I answered the door. It was the third time the Jehovah's Nazi's came to my house to convert me to their faith. Didn't work. There were two of them. An older African American female who I'm quite sure never got past the sixth grade. Her compatriot was an older white female with glasses and some sort of prayer packet tucked tightly under her right arm.

I told them I was an atheist and not interested in their religion. The older white lady decided to debate. The other woman just stood there with a ridiculous smile, and no input. I asked her if she were familiar with the different factions involved in creating the New Testament. She wasn't. I asked if she were familiar with the similarities of pagan religions (Mithra) to her religion. She wasn't. I asked if she were familiar with the blending of the Old Testament from the documents of the northern tribes of Judah and the southern tribes of Judah, or the fact that in one version of Genesis god is Elohim, which is plural- the Gods- while in the other he is Yahweh, which is singular. She had no idea what I was talking about.

She told me she believes the bible is inerrant, because it says so. I chronicled several errors to her, such as the oldest version of Matthew doesn't contain the resurrection, and the story of Jesus and the prostitute was penciled into a margin five hundred years after his death. She reiterated her belief the bible was without error and provided me with proof of creationism. "Look how beautiful the flowers are. Isn't that enough proof for you?"

I wanted to treat her to a glass of Jones Koolaid.

"Robbing Yo"

To my sheer delight we had a robbery attempt last week that ended in a fashion I believe all robberies should end. So let me set this up:

Three miscreant teens stole their momma's car and went cruising around Raleigh, flashing their gang signs and acting tough. At some point the gas gauge read "E," so, being "bangers," they decided to rob somebody for gas money. Genius!

At the same time a couple walked home from a local bar. They were minding their own business and not jeopardizing the rest of us by drinking and driving when they were suddenly accosted by this band of idiots.

Idiot #1 gets out, wearing a mask, and demands money. The guy defends his girlfriend by kicking the idiot's teeth in, knocking him flat. Idiots #2 and #3 rush to help their fallen comrade. Idiot #2 rushes the man and is skewered on a pocket knife. He drops like a hat, his lungs deflated. Idiot #3 surrenders immediately.

The couple leave and call 911. The Idiots #1 and #3 drag idiot #2 to the hospital, where emergency surgeons unfortunately save his life. While in the recovery room he has the audacity to ask a detective, "What happened to the suspect?" As if the robbery victim was now a suspect. Amazing! The detective stated, "We got him. Him, of course, being you."

Ghost Hunters

I was watching the "Ghost Hunters" today. Not because I wanted to, but to please my wife, who enjoys the show. I think they are full of crap, but she enjoys it, so who am I to judge? They were checking out this rich couple's home for ghosts because the couple's daughter kept seeing shadows in the bedroom and everyone hears footsteps overhead when nobody is upstairs.

The team investigates and they have the "Reveal," where they inform the home owner of what was found during the hunt. Evidently, the home is possessed by a human spirit, someone just like you and me, except without the body. This spiritual "form" haunts the home, but is not dangerous to the owners.

Aside from the entire show being horse-shit, I always hope the "Reveal" will elicit unusual suggestions, such as:

1) Make your daughter wear a chastity belt before going to bed, ma'am, so she doesn't get anally raped by the spirit.

2) Invest in our "Home Cleansing" program. That's where we urinate in every room of your home and hang massive garlic cloves to ward off evil.

3) For $8,000 we can masturbate on your pillows. This will ensure the ghost won't rape your mouth while you snore at night. Quite the bargain!

I need to start my own paranormal society so I can fill people's heads full of nonsense and bilk them out of money. Oh, wait a minute, I have morals. I guess that rules me out.

Instructor School

I attended the N.C. General Instructor's school for the past two weeks. It consisted of rewriting the same document about one hundred times and giving an eighty minute presentation to the class. The document and presentation are strictly graded by outside reviewers and then you take a state exam. I did my presentation on Grappling and the history of Jiu-Jitsu, a subject I'm quite capable of babbling incoherently about for hours, usually to the chagrin of anyone in close proximity.

The class was headed by an individual I won't name. But lets just say the Instructor's school is instructed by the worst instructor ever. Completely vague with every answer she provided, the entire class was confused. "You can't write on the answer sheets, but fill in the letters on the sheet."

"So we can write on the sheet?" I foolishly asked.

"No, you can't write on the sheets. But fill in the letters on the sheets."

"Okay," I continued. "We can't write on the sheet itself. So do we need to use a separate sheet of paper?"

"Yes," she answered. Then she passed out the answer sheets. When nobody started the test she asked, "Aren't you guys gonna start? Start answering."

Another fool chimed in, "But you told us not to write on the sheets."

"You can mark the answers," she says, staring at the class like we're a bunch of idiots. The entire curriculum turned into a lesson on restraint. I strongly considered bringing an axe in on the last day.