July 29, 2005
Here's an excerpt from Netscape News this morning-
Tasered Mo. Grandmother Gets Probation (from the AP Press)
KANSAS CITY, Mo. (AP) - A 67-year-old grandmother who was shocked with a Taser stun gun after she honked her car horn at a police cruiser has been given a year's probation for sparking a quarrel with officers.
A charge of improper use of the horn against Louise Jones was dismissed Wednesday in Kansas City Municipal Court. Her husband, Fred, 76, who became involved in the fray last year, also got one year of probation for the same charges - resisting arrest and attempting to inflict injury on an officer.
The only condition of the probation is that the couple obey all laws.
The incident, which resulted in a change in department policy and the disciplining of two officers, happened in June 2004 as police were responding to a disturbance call across the street from the couple's home. Officers said they approached Louise Jones after she honked her horn, thinking she had reported the disturbance or perhaps was in trouble. A defense witness testified the honk was accidental.
``She immediately became hostile to us,'' Officer Ryan VanDeusen testified. He said that she continued the verbal assault when the officers returned to their squad car.
``It was very loudy, it was antagonistic, it was very derogatory toward my partner and I,'' he testified.
Officer Cory LeMoine said he told Jones he could give her a ticket for honking the horn, and that a physical confrontation began after she wouldn't show him her driver's license. He said he and his partner struggled with Jones both inside and outside her house. The officers said that while VanDeusen was trying to handcuff her, Fred Jones came down the stairs and leveled his shoulder into him.
VanDeusen said he used the Taser on Louise Jones when his partner couldn't get her under control.
The Jones disputed the officers' account. Louise Jones and other defense witnesses said she wasn't confrontational and that the comments she made were directed to a friend, not to the officers.
``She says something to the neighbor across the street and the officer didn't like that,'' said defense attorney Basil North. ``He decided he was going to teach her a lesson.''
Louise Jones said she pulled away from the police when one of the officers grabbed her arm, and her husband said one of the officers had his knee on his wife's chest.
Municipal Judge Marcia K. Walsh told the couple they should fulfill their sentence easily, pointing out that Fred Jones' criminal history was perfect except for a traffic ticket.
``Your record is even better,'' she told Louise Jones. ``You don't even have a ticket.''
The couple's attorney said they plan to appeal the decision. North moved for dismissal of the horn-honking charges on grounds that the ordinance involved was worded vaguely, and the prosecutor agreed to drop it. --fin
Okay people - She was 76! even if she is talking loudly (?) Why would you need to taser her? What the heck is improper horn use? Is that a real charge. I mean I thought the handcuffing of the 5 year old was bad!
Does anyone else see our civil liberties slowly getting sucked from us?
Like Flava Flav says - 911 is joke!
July 25, 2005
I once heard the rich dashing aristocrat Reese Watson from fantabulous "Designing Women" (check your local listings for the current Lifetime schedule) say "put on your jammies" to Julia Sugarbaker, and almost died laughing. But that was scripted you see, and this was not. Plus, Reese was distinguishedly gray-haired and mustached, wearing a velvet smoking jacket, not a massive ex-wrestler with a doo-rag covering his bald-on-top, white hair around the sides head, carrying a dress bag in one hand and some blue fluffy thing in plastic in the other, complete with pinky sticking up in the air. Fantastic!
There's 1.5 minutes of your life you'll never get back.......Ha!
So over the weekend I was talking to one Ms. Leslie Paxton, and conversation drifted (as per usual) towards a mutual acquaintance of ours and this individual's tendency to self-sabotage. She totally cracked my shit up by remarking, "Yeah, she'll ride that pony right into the lava pit."
So, here we have my fantastic illustration, as I'm way too impatient to wait for the actual artist in the group (re: Leslie Paxton) to make a real picture. Plus, I'm marooned at the front desk for an hour and am trying to break myself of that nasty Snood addiction.
I move that "riding that pony into the lava pit" become the new catch phrase for self-sabotage. Like "jump the shark" is for crossing the line of watchability for a tv show. Thoughts?
July 24, 2005
The advice I want to dole out is kinda silly, but simple. I don't advocate carrying a weapon of sorts as safety-in my situation the running option was taken away after seeing a gun. Not only that but fighting was moot b/c it was in fact 4 against one. I think it's as simple as letting your voice be heard. My neighbors came out b/c it was loud. Loud or not I had witnesses. My advice is carry something that makes a loud noice or at least scream.
I'm seeing the police in a new light this week. Not as protectors of my safety but people that aim first and question later. Even more so with the murder of the guy in Briton who was an innocent who merely did not speak the language. The reports I was watching were 50/50. His family is right though, I'm sorry does not cut it when you "accidently" kill a member of someone's family. My thoughts are with them and every other person whose been scared shitless or killed by a case of mistaken identity.
Time to catch the repeat of Six Feet Under on HBO West, I was a little jarred at the ending considering I missed the whole episode so I figure time to see the rest.
July 23, 2005
As many of you know, I had quite the evening out Wednesday night. I thought I'd use OEF as my Soapbox for a few moments for our skirt blowing audiences time.
So after 4 hours of gossip with some of my old college chums. I returned to my house during the witching hour of 11:00 o'clock. I noticed on old bummy Taurus passing on the opposite side of the street. Although I could not see the drivers general appearance really well, I did note that he was staring extremely hard at me and in a very "suspicious" manner. Seeing that I am a female travelling alone at night, I always try to move with haste to my front door. I'm not saying Nofo is the most dangerous city, but it's not exactly Mr. Rodgers Neighborhood either.
So I take a moment to scoop all my stuff into one huge pile-a target bag, a purse, my camera, my keys, my cell--etc.. I get out of the car to find my suspicious character has driven directly in front of my car.
My first instinct is to bolt or at least walk very quickly to my house literally 20 feet from me. To my (horror) he and another person exit the taurus with haste. Another car speeds in behind me.
The guys get out of the cars and rush towards me. They yell at me to stand still and shut up although at this particular moment I haven't said anything. I (thinking I'm getting robbed) offer my purse, my keys, anything in exchange for a safe passage to my house. I ask repeatedly, "Are you police? Are you police?" Only to get my response on the 4th try. A yes. So at this moment I feel mildy relieved to know I'm not getting robbed and that I'm glad I didn't run.
I guess my frustration comes in at this point because they were not telling me anything. I was not getting accused only yelled at to "shut up and stand still". I retrace my day to think of ANYTHING that may have been something to merit this treatment. "A bad email, a late utility payment, student loans, running a red light, failure to pay for dinner"--but I couldn't find anything wrong.
My neighbors hearing the yelling came out to watch my debacle on the front stoop. Although very embarrassed, I was happy to see them just to witness me getting treated so poorly.
Next came the questions: Where are you coming from? Can anyone verify this? Is this your car? Why are you parked far from your house? I answered honestly (albeit cautiously) to all the interrogating questions. It bothered me that they were smug and distrusting and still unwilling to tell me why they were harassing me from going into my house. Somewhere in the midst of all this the receptionist radios one of them to let them know that I did not match something. At that moment the "I'm sorry's" begin.
Apparently I matched the description (exactly) of a female that only a few hours earlier had assaulted someone at gunpoint down the street from me.
I get a complimentary walk to my house in which the officers carry all the stuff I dropped. They were still watching me while I opened the door to make sure the key was mine and it was indeed my house. It was only after going upstairs to my room that I wasn't being interrogated anymore.
Hindsight is perfect. I realize at this point the way I shoulda handled the entire situation. But the truth is I was really just happy not to have been raped, beaten, and mugged first off. And secondly happy not to have went to jail for something I didn't do.
I have no issues with police tracking down suspects that put the innocent in jeopardy. I only wished that I would have been innocent until PROVEN guilty and that they would have identified themselves as officers.
If I woulda ran I can only assume that this story would have taken a different turn.
So for the record, Police do not always identify themselves as such. When they are not in uniform they look just like you and me. I guess my whole thing is I'm just not sure what you should do when guns are involved. My saving grace were my neighbors.
I've got more thoughts on the subject, but my tuna sandwich is looking mighty tasty. I would put it in the drawer, but I remember how THAT turned out last time.
Despite an usual (hah!) spike in search-engine derived traffic lately (people yahoo-ing themselves, some random perv looking for the phrase "my skirt blew up" and ms. paxton delivering, etc.), not much has been goin' on around here...holy crap we must all have lives. It's time for a progress report! BUUUUUUTTTT...I do actually have to go somewhere this shiny Saturday so I promise my electronic friends & enemies, tune back in tommorow sometime & we'll have a new game.
July 13, 2005
Little thoughts by Bloc Party has been my theme music for today. Happy but reflective, as I type this I'm rocking out in my chair. My aunts are in town and I feel like a rock star. Especially because we haven't hung out since I was 13 because of a stupid (mutual) family falling out. If anything arguments are arguments. I don't expect to get along with everyone all the time, but really I'm realizing what I missed by being away so long.
I really would go back if you asked me.
July 11, 2005
While driving back to work after lunch I heard “Mixed Bizness” and it got me dancing in my seat and embarrassingly singing the sound effects. I think everyone should have a copy of this album to pop in when you’re in the crappiest of crap moods.
The first time I listened to this disc was way back in the dreamy year of 1999, a wonderful time when my roommate went absolutely bat-shit when I asked her to do her dishes, and subsequently moved out. So I had the room to myself. Mr. Louis Ludwig was over after Harlem Rennaissance class and we were putting an $8 handle bottle of rum to bed. Somewhere between discussing the upside of communism (a frequent topic of Louis’), G.I. Joe, and the Last Poets, underneath year-round oh-so-ironic chrimmas lights, Midnight Vultures replayed itself probably three times. I’m not sure if other people would consider that good or bad, but I’m going with good…In fact, this same phenomenon has happened at other times & places…the album will play all the way through, and start again with no one noticing or fussing to get their selection in.
I’m not too smart with the musicky-type stuff, I just know what makes me smile, and this here album makes me smile.
To be honest, When I set out to write this here review, I was listening to the album in question…but being that I may or may not be at work, I was otherwise pre-occupied, and the album has now long since run it’s course when I got around to finishing this…so I stuck in another oldie-but-goodie, Lagwagon’s Hoss, and now I’m totally in the wrong frame of mind. Damn you Joey Cape, you angry but cute little man!
July 8, 2005
July 7, 2005
I thought I'd post this picture to remind self that at one point I did make it out of Virginia, and hey right on out of this country. Not that I'm in a hurry to leave the country. I watched a Bill Engvall comedy special for a minute (yes, I know Bill Engvall) but his sketch was highly relevant to my Bahama trip. When getting back on a cruise ship, he and his wife were held over in customs. They were carrying two paintings they had purchased while visiting the country.
The customs officers holds them and asks: "Did you buy this while you were here?"
Bill Engvall: "No, we painted them before we left the U.S. and thought we'd carry them around."
July 6, 2005
What looked like the cutest and cuddliest of creatures turned out to be a burden and sign of enduring evil and hardship for years to come. We took it in trying to be kind people, but we already had one pet that regarded us as his humans and no one else’s. Cobweb had successfully murdered one bird and one fish that had tried to come between him and “his” humans.
My brother took a liking to the hamster quickly. He attempted to pet him and hand feed the mutant what looked like mulch pellets for hours on end. The hamster returned Larry’s kindness by biting, scratching, and pooping in Larry’s hand. After cage cleanings the Hamster would set about to destroying his freshly cleaned domicile; moving his cedar sheds to one side, chewing bracings of his travel tubes apart, and it seemed like crapping and peeing excessively on spots in the cage we spent hours trying to clean. The hamster made no efforts to clean himself either. Often he ranked of sleeping in the same pile he conducted his business in regardless of the endless “clean space” located in his cage. As for exercise time, he would lie listlessly in his brand new roller ball and would only moved on his own when my brother would…err prompt him by scuttling the ball with his feet. Hamster tried to have jail breaks on numerous occasions by successfully chewing the brackets apart on the cage. During every break he ran to the same place, my Siamese cat’s food dish. There he would shove as much Meow-Mix as possible into his huge puffy jowls and for whatever reason wait to be rescued. Fortunately his jailbreaks were scheduled during Cobweb’s routine morning outside break.
One such attempt at 6:35 a.m. Cob Web was not outside and returned to his food bowl to find a live treat serving himself up like a Thanksgiving dinner. I’ll break the story a bit just to show that you never quite now how your day will end based on its beginning.
I knew today was going to be a bad day at 8:03. My skirt blew up in the wind and I inadvertently mooned one of my co-workers husbands. Who in turn rather than driving out of the parking lot decided to drive back around to wink AND honk the horn at me. In my state of embarrassed fury I dropped my cell phone, which rolled, completely under the bottom of my car, the cell phone was NOT in arms reach so I literally had to crawl under my car in my skirt to retrieve my poor busted phone.
Honestly I might have known the day was to be bad when room-mate did not even return my good morning which oddly enough she always seems to return one even in the worst of moods.
My email box is filled with messages of which 10 are congrats for my fantabulous presentation last week, 10 are of the “where are you” nature, 8 actual jobs and 12 concerning home mortgages, wacky lesbians, and penis enlargements. God I hate spam!
I take a bite into what was supposed to be a pickle-less onion-less masterpiece and find that not only are there pickes and onions but they are HIDDEN in my cheese on my quarter-pounder.
At the moment when hope is/was lost I receive this text message:
“So there is a bird eating his own butt on the hood of my car.”
The comment itself although jarring, made me extremely happy while I as picking gravel from my knees from the parking lot. Bless high school friends for finding humor in a moment of absolute regularity.
So now, I’m sitting in a huge bowl of meow-mix trying to see if something is going to devour me. Or maybe: I’m at another point in my life where I find myself trying to decide if I wanna take on another hamster metaphorically. A creature that despite other’s need to help it decides at as many times possible to engage in acts of self saboutage, a moment where I have to decide if putting up with this hamster may pan off into a huge karmic reward later.
In the kitchen a 3x3 triangle had formed; Cobweb, me, and hamster all 3 feet from each other trapped in an odd showdown. Although I despised hamster on some level, I didn’t think he deserved to be brutally mauled by the Siamese cat. Historically when trying to race the cat to rescue any animal from his clutches I always moved a minute too slow; the minute where he would lunge and carry the doomed creature to it’s grave beyond the cat door. This time was no different I bolted to grab the hamster, which in turn ran from me and ran directly to Cobweb. Cobweb trapped him with his paws growled at me and sniffed his doomed prey.
The hamster lived 5 years beyond this moment. He no longer attempted escape, just spent his days quietly sleeping in his waste festooned ball of cedar chips.
I can’t really say why the cat let him go. I think maybe because he sensed nothing to take from him. O hell maybe he just wasn’t hungry. I can’t really say why I wanted to rescue the loathsome ball of fluff.
Lately I’m thinking I AM a loathsome ball of fluff.
July 5, 2005
Rather than stopping my work and rationally trying to figure out this strange scent, I continued plugging along, inserting footbally-type cliches here, and crappy jingoistic imagery there...this thought would not subside..."Is that....PEE??"
For the record, no it was not pee. It was microwave popcorn which makes perfect sense seeing as I work in an office not twelve feet from the microwave. But this raises yet another troubling question all the same, should I be frightened that I actually believed (on however manaical a level) that someone laid out enough pee for the smell to literally waft into my office, or just grossed out that the eau de microwave popcorn was mistaken for a large overturned vat of urine?
Help, my electronic friends!