ShamWow Guy vs Chinless Hooker......

You know the guy from the Sham Wow commercial, Vince Shlomi. The infomercial pitchman with the blutooth in his ear, hawks the miracle shammy thing, and the chopper dealyjob? Well Vinnie got busted for busting up a hooker who he claims bit his tongue when he kissed her. Looking at Vince's mugshot it appears she touched him up as well. Before I get to the obvious and too easy wise cracks about spilled liquids, absorbency, and chopped nuts, let me address the real issues.

He french kissed a hooker. Vince hasn't heard about the Proxy rule. The proxy rule says if you kiss a hooker, you have in effect blown whoever she blew in the past 24 hours. Proxy rules aside, why in the world would someone french kiss a woman whose trade involves putting strange meat whistles in her mouth? Not to be insensitive, but she is a hooker for christsake, she earns her keep doing what fat drunken middle managers, wives wont do. There aren't enough Sham wows in all the world to soak up the toxic waste in this woman's orifices.

Okay I'll just come out and say it, "that is the ugliest hooker I've ever seen" . Forget the black eyes, lacerations, and bumps on her forehead. He paid this sideshow freak one thousand sham wow dollars. Not for nothing but for a grand, I'm thinking you could at least get a woman with a chin, and a hairdo that didn't look like it was combed with a pork chop and cut with a butter knife. Honestly, she makes the girls on Independence avenue look like ......., okay never mind, bad comparison. Let's face it, Ive said it before, the girls who pass for streetwalkers in KC would make a freight train take a dirt road. My point is, for that kind of cheddar he could have done better. Vince was also a scientologist at one time, so that frenetic, coke infused, sales pitch on his infomercials makes perfect sense. The guy is clearly disturbed, and apparently has a mean streak a mile wide.

The downside to this story is that Vince might be going to the joint if the authorities pursue the case. Lets face it, he thumped her pretty bad. Vince looks like he might end up "Fuckin in a Winnie the Pooh suit". ( Thats prison slang, it means he looks like prey in the joint), the upside is, that thousand dollar hooker just hit major pay dirt. Hopefully once she gets through suing Vinny, she can get a chin implant so we can tell where her neck ends and her face begins. And honey, baby, sweetie, do something about that hair. As for Vince he has made a mess for himself that all the Sham Wow's in the world can't mop up.

Four Oakland cops would still be alive if their killer had been given vocational training and a big hug.

Lovelle Mixon killed four Oakland cops,..... four. The first two were killed when they pulled him over. Mixon was wanted on a parole violation. He did not want to return to the joint, even though a parole violation doesn't mean you automatically go back to the joint, in fact you can violate numerous times and never set foot back in prison. The average violation won't set you back more than 6-9 months even if you do go back. Lovelle Mixon, a parolee with a violent criminal past, pulled over for the police, once they were stationary targets, he stepped from his vehicle , and murdered these two cops. He killed two more with an AK47 before he was taken out. In many circles today, from the streets of Oakland, to the pages of the San Francisco Chronicle, Mixon is a Martyr, a victim, and as distasteful as it is to write this, to many, he is a hero. Get your head around that one, and we'll get back to it in a minute.

Mixon's DNA was tied to the rape of a 12 year old girl, the link was made a day or two prior to his murderous rampage. He was an ex con with not one but two guns, a semi auto pistol, which he used to shoot both cops a final time to make sure they were dead. None of those facts has stopped various groups and columnists from tossing out rhetoric, diatribes laced with phrases like " tacit racial profiling" " white plot to keep Africans enslaved", and on and on it goes. Here is one writer claiming Mixon must have felt disrespected by his parole officer. You heard me right, it wasn't Mixons fault. It was the California dept of corrections fault, because they can't stop young thugs from being young thugs. It was the Law Enforcement community's fault for stopping him in the first place. There are actually people questioning if he was stopped illegally. It was BARTS fault for shooting a black man three months ago, which was totally unrelated to Mixon. Poverty did it, white America did it, everyone is to blame, except Mixon. Except the community he grew up in. Except his family, except himself.

I did a google search on Lovelle Mixon. For every article or commentary reviling him as a cold blooded sociopath, there is one absolving him of any accountability or culpability in 4 cold blooded murders. Those articles in support of Mixon fail to mention the assault rifle, they fail to mention that he absconded from parole, they fail to mention he was a suspect in at least one homicide , they fail to mention that he may be tied to other sexual assaults. Rather than lay the blame at the feet of the killer, they cast accountability to the wind, scattering it like the seeds of a dandelion, letting it rest in a multitude of places, except where it belongs, which is solely at the feet of Lovelle Mixon.

When serial killers go on killing sprees, snuffing out innocent lives, and are finally caught, the vast majority will be found to have been victims of abuse, physical, sexual, mental, the psychiatric trinity of root cause and effect. The killers history as a victim being the root cause of why they turned out to be what they became. What you won't hear is these freaks given a pass for their crimes, and you sure as hell won't hear anyone making martyrs or heroes out of them. Jeffery Dahmer may have been molested as a child, but nobody came forward to excuse him for cooking his victims up like a pot roast, because of it.

We live in a bizarre world, where shit is so twisted, up is down, right is wrong, and god help you if you insinuate that a killer should have been put down like a rabid dog. We can't get past race in this country. We can't get beyond the blame game, from white guilt to militant outrage over previous injustice, race hangs over it all. I can't claim to have gone out and done an independent poll of black Americans regarding their opinions about the Lovelle Mixon case. But I feel pretty safe in saying that the vast majority of Americans, from every racial and ethnic group, would agree that Lovelle Mixon was a bad guy. He was a predator, a bully, a rapist, a thug, and a sociopath, and when he chose to kill 4 men to avoid returning to prison he became a monster.

I don't subscribe to political correctness, if I write about an instance of obvious racism, I write it just as I see it, I don't take it easy on the racist, be they white, black, or day glo orange, I call it like I see it. I also have no problem pointing out the utter bullshit of writers or militant groups, like the black Klansman better known as the Uhuru Movement, who want to blame every misdeed committed by a person of color, on the litany of excuses from Slavery to Jim Crow , from CIA crack conspiracies to poverty. Make no mistake, racism is alive and well in this country, sadly it always will be. It is harder to rise above poverty, get a decent education, a job, the list goes on, if you are a person of color, be it black or brown. Areas that are not predominately white often do get the short end of the stick. When columnists pander to the black community by implying that guys like Mixon are victims, it does more harm than good. It allows the people who really DO want to keep these folks down, to point and say, I told you so. Groups like the Uhura Movement sling hate like it's crack, they push it on their own people, rather than work towards actually resolving problems they incite and inflame.

The truth about Lovell Mixon is this ; He killed 4 men to avoid going to jail. It's just that simple. It has nothing to do with the color of his skin, an unsympathetic parole officer, poverty, prison, police brutality, the Bart killings, or any of the litany of excuses that have been offered up. Prison is full of guys like Mixon, guys who would just as soon kill you as look at you. They come in a wide array of skin tones, from all walks of life. The same clueless apologists who lay the blame at the doorstep of society would quickly sing a different tune if they were locked up in the same room as one of these animals. Maybe that's not a bad idea. Most writers who have blamed the system for Mixon's actions don't have a clue. They decry the lack of programs, but vocational training would'nt have kept Mixon from being Mixon. What area of vocational training or drug treatment prevents child rape? If Mixon had learned to weld or drive a nail, would that have prevented him from killing four cops? My feelings about the Lovell Mixon's of the world can be summed up in one short sentence. "The world is a better place without him." The only tragedy in the death of Mixon, is that he didn't get his ticket punched sooner, before he raped a child, before he deprived 4 families of thier loved ones.

Fast Eddie Friday.....Snow Jobs, No Jobs, and Blow..hards...

I know, I know, you thought I was going to put a JOB at the end of Blow, hey this is a family friendly place, we don't use that kind of language. By we, I mean ME, the rest of that sentence was bullshit as well. It looks as if we are in for some snow , last night Mike Thompson fox 4 said he was pretty sure we wouldn't get much, while Katie Horner advised laying in 6 tons of canned goods and vials of morphine before we are buried in yards of white n flaky Armageddon. That's a slight exaggeration, then again so are her alarmist weather reports. I suppose it keeps the blue hairs glued to the screen. Just once I'd like to see a weather clown say "Hey, I don't have a clue what it's going to do". They don't, and they won't, until it's knocking at our door, which it is. If weather people were hookers, there would be a lot of Johns walking around with with teeth marks on their junk.

Great day in the morning, Kansas City's own, King of Sting, purveyor of horse shit, and former coke dealer to unfunny comics, Craig Glazer, has sold the rights to his book. At least that's what his girlfriend Hearne is reporting. Seriously, not more than a day or so goes by that Hearne ( I'm an icon so I just use one name like Madonna and Carrot top, ooops thats two names) Christopher fails to reference Glazer. For those of you who have never heard of Glazer or Hearne please allow me to bring you into the 1980's. Glazer owns, operates, and bankrupts comedy clubs, bars, and his mother. Hearne is a former Star columnist, name dropper, and trust fund douche nozzle. Glazer put out a book about how he robbed drug dealers while posing as an undercover cop along with some other guy who ended up as worm food while practicing that trade. I haven't read Glazer's book, don't plan on it, don't need to. He claims to have spent decades running this scam, made more money than Matchbox Twenty, blah, blah, bullshit, blah. I've no doubt he stuck up some college kids and former drug connections, for a few ounces of coke and a little weed. Drug dealers, real heavy hitter drug dealers, do not lay down for a couple of Apple Dumpling Gang stick up kids. You might get away with that shit a few times, but not for years, let alone decades. Anyway, the guy managed to get someone to pen his memoirs, and now he has a movie deal, albeit one that will go straight to VHS. So maybe I'm just goofed up on hateraid. As for the movie, Froggy of Little rascals fame is set to play Glazer. Hearne will be cast as the guy who likes to rub elbows with the seedy lite types. I hear they are looking at either Ryan Seacrest or the kid from Jerry Maguire to play the role of Hearne. "the human head weighs 8 pounds", not counting the silver spoon. Why so hard on a guy who I am only slightly familiar with through his Star column, and his blog? He annoys me, people with more money and commercial success than yours truly, tend to draw that reaction from me, I can't help it. Besides his writing has always had an obnoxious vibe to it. Pot meet kettle. Considering most 6 year old kids with a piggy bank have more money than me, and the lettuce guy at Burger King has me beat in the success department, it's a miracle I'm not in a shack in Idaho, writing manifestos and eating squirrels.

Feel the love in here? Lets wrap it up and put this thing to bed.

Larry ( spits don't swallow) Johnson got probation for disturbing the peace, if he walks down his two years of probation, the charges go away, like it never happened. Sir Lawrence was originally charged with two counts of assault. He shoved a woman in the head in the first incident, in the second he spit on a woman in a club on the Plaza. In 2003 he copped an agg assault case while threatening his girlfriend with a gun, in 2005 he beat an agg assault case after the witness recanted and failed to show, cha ching$$$$. If you or I were to spit on some random person, do you think we would get such a sweet deal? Larry got a one game suspension for being a douche bag, one game. When far, far, better ball players have been sacked for entire seasons and careers for smoking weed, or driving drunk, this ass hat gets a pass. We wonder why kids turn out to be such shit heels later in life, you need look no further than guys like Larry Johnson. Larry has a whole bunch of money, the kind of money that will buy a lawyer with the connections to make cases go away, the kind of money to buy ridiculously over sized wrist watches, but clearly not enough to buy an ounce of class. You can slap a saddle and bridle on a pig, toss a jockey on his back, enter him in the Derby, at the end of the day it's still a pig. Stay classy Larry, I hope she sues you until you are down to a Timex and a Hyundai.

And Breathe..................

Stay tuned

Got a lengthy post coming up later today. It's full of vileness, vinegar, and vaginas, don't miss it.
okay, there's nothing about vaginas, but just typing the word vagina will garner more hits than vileness and vinegar.

You seemed a little pitchy, Dawg...

There are some things you just don't want to see, moments where you want to go back and undo whats been done, like Superman circling the earth at hyper speed turning back time. I'm having one of those moments right now. But first a confession; I'm watching American Idol, yeah I know. Hey don't judge, if it weren't for my Pavlovian channel flipping, you might not be aware of the insidious sacrilege taking place right under your upturned nose. I'm no fan of AI, in fact I think 99 percent of the crap they gak up is just barely better than Karaoke night at the state school for deaf mutes. Which is why I tend to watch it sporadically, for the train wreck, and not the "talent". ( No offense to deaf mutes. Did I just pull an Obama?)

They have theme nights on American Idol. One week it might be Barry Manilow, the next Neil Diamond, and so on, through a wide array of geriatric pop gawds, who I never listened to 30 years ago when they were in their heydays. So I don't care one way or the other, it's just some pasty white kids in strategically tousled hair, singing syrupy shit like Cracklin Rosie or Oh Manny. If I happen to stumble upon it, Ill watch it to make myself feel better. Within 10 minutes I'll feel like Dean Martin in a room full of Jerry Lewis's. Watching people make fools of themselves will do that.

Tonight I am sad to report is Motown night. Motown for God's sake. They had Smokey and Barry Gordy schmoozing it up with these two legged muzak machines that pass for Americas best. If L A wasn't so far away I'd run to Hollywood , pull that tight ass T shirt over that British pricks head, and shove him up Randy Jackson's fat ass. Hear me DAWG ? Some things you just don't mess with. I peeled more than my fair share of hippy girl panties during my formative years, with Smokey as my wing man, or Marvin. In a sea of Foghat and Kansas devotees, I stood alone amongst my friends. While they were cramming matchbooks in their 8 tracks so that REO live tape wouldn't drag, I was listening to Stevie Wonder, sign, seal and deliver. So when I see Smokey leaning against a piano, wearing more rouge than a New Orleans hooker, pretending these kids had some relevance, I got a little sad. Then I got a little indignant, and here we are. That's how shit works around here. Indignation is a hell of a drug.

Some things need to be left alone, not tampered with, unmolested. I'd have been far happier watching them do a Garth Brooks night, or a some other marginally talented popular singer night. I could have eased back in my chair, chortled, mocked and ridiculed the television screen. Instead I watched in horror, the train wreck I didn't want to see, unfolding before my eyes. It was painful, as painful as watching the music awards where Stevie Wonder sang with those 3 kids who wear promise rings for Chastity Bono, or whatever. Smokey's voice evokes memories of when I had a full head of hair, weed was 15 bucks an ounce, Boones Farm tasted like fine wine, and the cops daughter down the street threw me a piece just to get back at her parents. Good times. But all of that has changed now, and I cant go back. Instead of those memories, every time I hear Tracks of My Tears, I'll think of some kid with blue in his hair, wearing skinny jeans, and sporting button ear rings in both ears, sounding like his nuts are caught in a vice. Where's Superman when you need him?

Ruskin Heights Fight Night.......... You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!

Nobody else wants to say it, so allow me to throw myself under the "You dirty ofay racist" accusation bus. Seventy five individuals took to the field in lovely Ruskin Heights for Ruskin Heights Fight Night. Okay, so it was really not planned or scheduled, then again neither was the reenactment of the OK corral shoot out that took place last month at a west side community center. In both cases, there are a few common denominators, Large groups of Black kids from different schools or parts of the city, lax or nonexistent security, and not nearly enough arrests. It all begs the question; Why can't these black kids take Rodney's advice and just "all get along"?

That's the 65,000 dollar question, and the answer is as complex as the road that led to a subculture within the African American community, one that involves a minority of that community, yet reflects upon each and every one of them. While it is unfair and untrue to say that all black kids have reverted to a no brains all brawn type of attitude, that doesn't stop us from thinking it, or saying it, with a practiced sigh, a tsk tsk, and a "those people" attitude. For our part, and by our, I mean myself and most of my readers who are white, we can rest easy , hey it ain't our kids. We can just move, sprawl out a little more, and let them beat hell out of, and or shoot one another to smithereens. After all, young Biff and Muffy are performing splendidly at Abercrombie High. And much like the Ostrich who hides his head in the sand, only to be surprised when he gets bitten in the ass, we will rise up in righteous indignation and bewilderment when one of theirs takes one of ours. When the occasional rolling gun battle spills over to Brookside, or someone gets capped in the great white north land, we can take comfort in the street side interview on the nightly news. You know the one, the nice looking soccer mom, or the biz guy with graying temples and Tom Watson golf shirt. The reporter standing in front of windows dotted with bullet holes, and then comes that classic line, " This type of thing NEVER happens here" or "I can't believe this happened in my neighborhood".

There is a domino effect that takes place, the precursor to urban sprawl and white flight, it starts with one family, just one. There was a time, in the not too distant past when sleepy little bedroom communities like Grandview, Raytown, Hickman Mills, Ruskin, ....need I go on, were products of whites abandoning the city for safer ground. Then THEY followed, one black family, then another, and another. And we fled, first one, then another, and one more. Schools that were once bastions of education became thunder domes, replete with metal detectors and armed guards. Funny thing is, those first black families who moved in were just doing what any law abiding hard working person would do when their family was at risk. The whites would look up and see the new neighbors , say "Holy Shit, they've found us" Further mass exodus ensues, and eventually the bad guys move in among the majority of decent black folks, the area deteriorates, lather, rinse, and repeat, the cycle perpetuates.

I know, I seem to be rambling here, just stick with it, there is a point to all of this.

You can't blame white people for fleeing a sinking ship, any more than you can blame the people of color who follow them, trying to escape the insanity of the urban core. People want to feel safe, they want their children to prosper and grow in to adulthood. Wanting what is best for you and yours is a common thread that knows no racial or economic boundary. In the past, I've been a little tough on my white brethren who choose to flee, deep down, I get it, I understand, and who can blame them. The soccer mom who grew up in the Ruskin of 1975, is not to blame for the Ruskin of 2009. When she fled to Jo Co, or Blue Springs, it was an act of self preservation. It was also a lesson in futility, because eventually, they will follow. First one, then another, and on it goes.

Undoubtedly, some wise acre will pop up in my comments section with that proverbial 65,000 dollar question,"well whats the answer?". How do you stop a small minority of ill mannered predators, from pissing in every ones Post Toasties? Groups like Aim For Peace are impotent and ineffectual. There is no single group or person who can fix shit in the urban core, or in the burbs that have turned in to high crime annexes. It has to start at home, naturally, but a parent can only do so much. A single mother with two jobs can only do so much. The schools could do something about the mob mentality at its events, either increase police presence or stop having them altogether. Same goes for community centers, stop having events that bring rival groups together. Before anyone starts snivelling "The kids must have an outlet other than the streets", allow me to retort ; sponsoring events from rival schools or areas hasn't really done anything but provide a breeding ground for what we saw at Ruskin or at the West side community center, has it?

I don't know the answer, if I did I'd be more loved than Gandhi and rich as Bill Gates. The truth is, we, all of us, have a hand in this. The floodgates have gone from open to completely washed away. Urban schools no longer teach, they are bedlam, the administrators worry that some irate parent will sue or cry racism, if they demand some young thug to act like a decent human being or face consequences. They leave the teachers to fend for themselves, and blame them when they can't do it on their own. Parents blame everyone but the little prick they half assed raised. Law enforcement is a joke, not due to their own ineptness but because of cuts or constraints, or fear of lawsuit. The answer, as much as it pains me to say it is this; There is no answer. We are as fucked up as a soup sandwich. We can throw money at the problem, we can hold vigils, we can all run out and buy security systems and get gun permits, but it's not going to change anything. The die was cast several generations back, and now both sides of the divide are paying the price.

While I don't know what the solution is, I know what it isn't. It isn't cutting an already thin police budget by 10 million, it isn't groups like Aim for peace, who make grabs for tax payer dollars after a season of high murder rates reveal their impotency to curb crime, it isn't white flight and urban sprawl, it isn't ineffectual schools or night time basketball games in community centers turned in to war zones. It isn't anything that has been tried and failed. Greater minds than mine will need to figure it out. In the meantime don't be a stranger, drop me a postcard when you land in Louisburg Kansas or Peculiar Missouri.

BFF or parent, you can't be both.................

Being unemployed now, I have plenty of time for unproductive bullshit. In between firing out resumes that don't garner a response, and grasping at straws, I watch too much TV. It's the type of TV I'd never have watched a year ago. This morning I was watching some morning talk show that comes on after the news on Fox. M&J in the morning. This morning they had this Mother and her 16 year old daughter on, they were debating whether this kid should go alone to Mexico for spring break, and by alone, I mean along with a couple of her equally clueless 16 and 17 year old girlfriends. Before I was a middle aged reprobate, I was once a teen aged reprobate, so I get it, when these kids say that want to go off to Mexico and party. Kids think they are invincible, bad shit won't happen to them. There's nothing surprising there, what is shocking is the mother. She was actually on the fence, she was considering allowing her blond headed, naive child to travel alone to a country that touts kidnapping as a cottage industry. Mom was dressed just a wee bit youngish for her 40 something age. They were Pals, mom and daughter, more like sisters.

When did parents change from disciplinarian, the voice of reason and responsibility, into some watered down version of a parent? Somewhere along the line there was a paradigm shift, parents lost their ability to dictate whats what, and became wishy washy BFF's. I realize that the majority of parents still run things where family is concerned, but it's only a majority by a slim and ever shrinking margin. One would think that just the opposite would be true. I was a teenager in the 70's, compared to today, the 70's were pretty tame. Sure we ingested all manner of mind altering substances, screwed like minks, and wore ridiculous clothes, much like the youth of today. Bad, life altering, sometimes life ending events took place then, but not on the level of today. Even in the formative budding criminal circle I ran with, we didn't carry automatic weapons, we never randomly sprayed bullets at community centers, today random acts of violence are so common we are rarely shocked when we hear about them.

So I wonder about these so called parents who desperately want to be friends with their kids, so much that they allow them to do whatever they please, out of fear of rejection. I know they think if they schmooze up to their kids, the kid in turn will be open with them, they will bond. Parents aren't supposed to be friends with their 16 year old kid, at least not to the extent that they would allow them to travel alone to Mexico, or Florida, or anywhere , with other junior sloots in the making. Yeah I know , who am I to criticize. I was a juvenile delinquent of the highest order, and shit just got worse for a whole lot of years before it got better. In my case, I had good parents, sure they made mistakes, but their hearts were in the right place, I was just bound to end up like I did. Ozzie and Harriet, along with Ward and June, could have teamed up to raise me, it wouldn't have mattered. I was just bound to be a wild kid, but I was an exception to the rule. For the most part kids are by and large good, they just need guidance. That guidance doesn't include being an older parody of one of their high school friends. It means you respond with a quizzical look, followed by a resounding " Are you fuckin kiddin me?", when they ask to run off to Mexico with their underage girlfriends.

Fast Eddie Friday.......... Not so fast.

I don't know how I missed THIS. Kansas is requiring some criminal offenders to carry a Kansas Drivers License that says "Registered Offenders" across it in bold red type. Correct me if you know otherwise, but it seems to be limited to sex offenders, violent offenders, and some drug offenders. Mary Sanchez a writer for the Star seems worried that these guys will commit more crimes if they cant acclimate to society. The license will prevent them from getting jobs, apartments, and will make it harder for them to blend back in to society. I understand the concern, and I'm not trying to pick on her, but Mary doesn't really GET IT. Most employers do a criminal background check , so the conviction will show up. By law, while on parole you are required to inform employers and potential employers of your status anyway. Sex offenders that catch new cases do so regardless of their job status, rapists and pedophiles don't commit their crimes for financial gain. As for violent offenders, killers, armed robbers, guys who like to beat the hell out of anyone weaker than them, these aren't guys you want living in your building. Look I'm all for rehabilitation and reintegration to society, just not at the peril of public safety..

Mary isn't alone in her concern that this "Scarlett letter" is counterproductive. To that group of opponents I offer this; these offenders SHOULD be ostracised, they should continue to be held accountable, they should be outed at every opportunity. The victims of predators, those who suffer lasting and debilitating effects at the hand of another, those victims don't get the chance to start anew after X number of years. The physical and emotional scars will be with these folks for the rest of their lives. While it is impossible to undo that damage, to erase the nightmares from their minds, this so called Scarlett letter might just save someone else from falling prey to one of these creeps. There are some crimes, once committed, cannot be punished enough. If you abuse, rape, or murder someone, there is no redemption, no making amends. If you think I'm wrong, just ask those who have fallen prey for no reason other than some freaks whim or lust. I could introduce the detractors of the Kansas DL law, to some guys I've known both in the joint and on the street. After 5 minutes of talking to one of these creeps, these well intentioned and naive opponents of the Kansas Law, would change their tune.

Pardon my " European American" language, but would someone please tell the National Black United Front Kansas City Chapter, to shut the fuck up already. This group of race baiting retards, who suck at the tit of Kansas City government payoffs, while biting the very nipple it suckles at, are a joke. A parody of civil rights activists, these clowns promote the theory that crack was introduced and promoted by the CIA, to keep the black community under it's thumb. They want reparations, they want government money, they want, and want, and want. Last night they took to the streets and bum rushed mayor Funkenstein and his wife Igor, in front of their brookside Castle. The only thing missing was Al Sharpton, torches, and pitchforks. While I found the videos amusing, you can check them out at Tonys Kansas City, these morons can't even get a mob mentality right. Seriously, if these chuckle heads are going to take on the Mayor and the city, they need to quit excepting the hush money from same. The whole thing reeks of a sense of entitlement, greed, and ineptitude. If you want to appear legit, if you want to take on the so called European American Elite, then quit begging them for money, and stop doing shit under the cover of darkness, take the battle to the steps of City Hall during business hours.

Well that's it for this week. I'm hoping to restart my Hard Times series next week. So stay tuned for that. Be safe and keep coming back.

Tough times = More crime..............

Some people were probably shocked to hear that the man killed by the KCPD following a bank robbery, was just released from the federal pen in January, on a bank robbery conviction. For every person that was surprised someone would jump back in to the fire so soon, there are just as many who will say "once a thief, always a thief." Unfortunately the latter crowd would be closer to spot on. For every guy I knew that got his head right, there are 10 who are still trapped in the revolving door of corrections. Nothing really shocking about that, until you consider why. They want to stay in prison, it's home sweet ass home. The World is just too much work, too much effort. There's parole officers to deal with, you have to get and actually maintain employment, pay bills, all of the day to day mundane shit that makes up life in the free world, is just more effort than your average institutionalized convict is willing to put forth. So they do something to get sent back home.

Don't waste even a few seconds of your day worrying about guys like I just described, trust me when I say the worlds a better place without them in it. Guys with a there's no place like home mindset are generally the predatory types in the joint. That same mindset follows them to the street which doesn't bode well for anyone who crosses their path at the wrong time. Eventually these guys who do life on the installment plan grow old and find that they are suddenly prey rather than predator.

A good example, Charles Manson. From everything Ive read, Charlie who is 74 now, pictured above, has had more than his share of beat downs, has been set on fire once, and last I read, was spending his time in the SHU to avoid further abuse at the hands of his fellow inmates. He may have been at the top of the violent criminal food chain in his day, but that day has passed. Now he is just an old and crazy wildebeest among the young hyenas looking to make a name in the joint.

I can't say the guy who was killed following Monday's bank robbery was trying to get caught, if he was then he definitely screwed the pooch, seeings how he ended up dead. He was obviously a professional bank robber, and by that I mean, he was none too smart, for starters he was on foot. Robbers in general, be it a bank or the 7/11 , are fairly dull witted types. Robberies don't usually yield much in the way of real money, from a few hundred to a few grand. It's a high risk crime, usually involves guns, reaps little in the way of reward, and will potentially get you either killed, or you end up with a sentence in the double digit range. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the risk vs reward factor isn't in the robbers favor.

Now here's the point to this unbearably long post; You can expect a big spike in robberies and crime in general, in the near future. Most prisons have done away with vocational programs, college courses, or any type of training that will enable inmates to transition back to society. In today's job market a guy with a criminal record doesn't stand a chance when going up against a regular law abiding type who has been in the work force and felony free. I can attest to that personally. Now don't get me twisted, I'm not saying that it's unfair to hire a square world type over an ex convict. You won't ever hear me whine about the injustice of it all. If you have lived right then by all means you should be rewarded for it, if you lived dirty then you except your lot in life. Fair is fair. That said, more often than not, and with increasing regularity, inmates released from prison, lacking the tools to deal with life in the world, are going to fall back on what they know.

"There will be no justice as long as man will stand with a knife or with a gun and destroy those who are weaker than he is". Isaac Bashevis Singer

10-year-old Amir Clemons and 7-year-old Gerard Clemons didn't get the chance to play in yesterdays sunshine. There won't be any further chances in the future. While most kids in the metro were busy doing what kids do, Amir and Gerard were two of the victims at the center of a quadruple murder investigation in Raytown. They were killed along with their aunt, Precious Clemons, and an unidentified male. There was an 18 month old toddler who was also in the apartment who was not harmed. While police have yet to give many details there are a couple of things we do know. Amir and Gerard were killed for no better reason than to be kept silent. The aunt, Precious, has a couple of drug cases from June of this year. A class C weed case and a more serious class B delivery of a controlled substance case, per case net. Those charges don't necessarily have any connection to the homicides, but they do tell us that at least at some point, Precious wasn't living right.

We also know that if these two boys had been somewhere else they would still be alive. It's safe to say that two kids who are in elementary school haven't been living on the edge, doing dirt. The Metro Squad is looking for the father of the child who was unharmed. So maybe it all comes down to some kind of domestic dispute, or it could have something to do with Precious previous brush with the law. What ever the case may be the one inescapable undeniable fact is this, once again the innocent suffer. We see these stories on the news and it all seems so far removed from reality. Amir and Gerard's father found the boys, he witnessed the aftermath first hand, for him it is all too real. Think about that for a minute. How will he live with that minute, forever frozen in time, etched in his brain, burned in to his minds eye?

We live in a world where the innocent and vulnerable get caught up in the crossfire of the wicked, catch the eye of the predator, and suffer the end result of someones anger. It takes a special kind of monster to snuff out the life of a child, let alone two children, sadly there is no shortage of monsters in the world. When children meet such a terrible fate, there is one constant, one unchanging fact, people will plead, demand, and pray for justice. The grieving family, the police, the public, will all seek justice in these killings. Sadly there is no justice to be found. Even if the guilty are caught, tried and convicted, justice, true justice will elude them. How do you even the score , right the wrong, reverse the irreversible? You don't, you can't, not in a case like this one involving someone so young. The best any of us can hope for is that the killer is caught , tried, convicted, and hopefully put down. That end result is as close as we can come to justice, but it's a small comfort, an impotent attempt at righting a wrong. In cases like this one, justice is nothing more than a concept. In our so called civilization, the killer will be afforded every right that our justice system allows. If sentenced to death, the appeals alone will buy another 15, 20, 30 years or more above ground, while his victims lay beneath it. That's what passes for justice, in the end it's a far cry from it.

AIG....Crow sandwiches...bitter washed up newsies..

The St. Paddy's parade runs one block from my front door, I would be derilict in my duties if I failed to record the derilicts at thier duties during todays parade. Those duties will include but are not limited to, throwing up in a gutter, getting beat down by other revelers or the police, making a total ass out of ones self, the list goes on. Actually, the real action will take place later in the day, I'll try to be there as the hoardes descend upon my beloved midtown. In the meantime there are a few things I need to get off my chest before risking life and limb, who knows I may not make it back in one piece.

AIG

"We cannot attract and retain the best and the brightest talent to lead and staff the AIG businesses — which are now being operated principally on behalf of American taxpayers — if employees believe their compensation is subject to continued and arbitrary adjustment by the U.S. Treasury,” so says Edward M. Liddy, the Captain of this ship of fools. I on the other hand say, "are you fucking kidding me?" Considering the fact that AIG stock has fallen 99 percent, considering the fact that these ass hats were on the brink of collapse a few months ago, not to mention that we, all of us are footing the bill to keep them afloat, I'd say he might want to reconsider that Best and Brightest bullshit. I'm not buying the whole contractual obligation line either. These are performance bonuses, frankly, they should take 99 percent of these dick heads pay for screwing the pooch in the first place.

Alonzo Washington

I've been plenty vocal in my criticism of Alonzo, and I'm not about to retract anything I've said. That said, I'd be a total nimrod if I failed to give credit where credit is due. Alonzo managed to get Shaun ( I killed my wife ) Pernice to go on record. Pernice comes off sounding like a cross between Drew Peterson and Eb from Green Acres. Note to self: if I'm ever the main suspect in my wifes murder, and Alonzo's name pops up on my caller I D, do, not, answer, the phone. I can't believe I'm saying this but, nicely done Alonzo. Now that thats out of the way we can go back to disliking one another.

Hearne (with the Ryan Seacrest hair) Christopher

Bitter much? Where do fired middle aged lippy hipsters go when they find themselves jobless? To the local blogosphere of course. Yeah I know, the guy is a journalist or whatever he is calling himself these days. I think Hearne is going to be a natural as a blogger. He has already displayed the three traits necessary to be a good blogger, Petulance, Over inflated Ego, and a penchant for talking out of his ass. He might want to tone down that holier than the lowly blogger attitude. Newsflash Hearne, you are one of us now, like it or not. Just because you slap a couple of flash ads at the top of your blog, drop names, and smile out of the side of your mouth with a practiced and cheesy flair, doesn't change the fact that you get fewer hits than the buffet line at an anorexic convention luncheon. Hearne attempted to elevate himself by flapping his pie hole about bottom line's reporting on the Star's latest round of layoffs. He referred to them as "a wannabe news site".

Lately the "wannabe's" of the KC blogosphere have scooped the star and every news station on a fairly regular basis. Love him or hate him, Tony's Kansas City has covered city hall and the twin terrors Funk n Glo far better and well ahead of the local media. Alonzo Washington, (damn there I said it again) managed to cop an interview with Shaun Pernice, and Bottom Line has covered the implosion of the Star. Not bad for a bunch of wannabe's . To steal a line from Training Day, "you a long way from Starbucks homie", in other words, drop the pretence douche bag, you are just another obscure blogger now. If you were all that and a bottle of hair gel, you would still have a job, just like your betters at KC stINK .

Okay, I'm done.

Hard Times......... Elusive truth and hard answers...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.............so starts Dickens A Tale of Two Cities, 150 years later that line is as relevant as ever. Last week I asked people who were struggling to get in touch with me, let me tell their story, this is the first of those stories, but it's probably not what all of you were expecting.

Mike sits in a Sugar Creek cafe, tearing his toast in to pieces. The first thing I notice when I sit down are his hands, they are shaking a little, and he can't seem to decide what to do with them. He has a stack of papers several inches thick sitting on the table. The folder contains two years worth of legal motions, court documents, and ex parte orders. The story behind the paper work isn't what I was expecting, it's not exactly what I had in mind when I set out to write about people who are struggling due to the poor economy. Mike's financial woes have been brought on by attorney fee's, court costs, and court ordered payments to various investigators, arbitrators and guardians. Mike says he is in a struggle for custody of his two children, aged 7 and 12.

He tells me he was an EMT until a couple of years ago. He would come home from work and smell cat piss in his house, even though he didn't own a cat. His wife never slept, she lost a whole lot of weight, something wasn't right. Bills weren't getting paid, money kept coming up missing from his bank account. He says it turns out his wife was using meth. He moved the family to Springfield, but it wasn't long before she found the same problems there. He filed for divorce, got custody of the kids. She continued to get high. Court papers he showed me indicated 3 suicide attempts and at least a couple of stints in treatment, by his wife.

Custody fights are never pretty, accusations fly from both sides, some false, some accurate, and some fall in a gray area somewhere in between. I'm a lot of things, naive isn't one of them. As I delved into Mike's story, I took things at face value. I don't know him, never met him before Saturday. He told me that his wife's father is a retired Police Sargent in a small Kansas City Suburb who has it in for him. In between his wife's suicide attempts and stints in Mental health facilities, there were allegations made against Mike. Threatening text messages, the ex parte order, allegations of abuse. Mike tells me about finding rows of bruises on his daughters back, he claims they were put there by the wife's boyfriend. The case is being heard in a smaller county than Jackson county. Mike says the judge routinely denies his motions, blames the good ol boy network.

I've seen some of the court filings, I read bits of the documents. His story rings true in a lot of respects, then I get a call Saturday night, it's Mike. He tells me his kids got home from a supervised visit. He says he walked in to his 7 year old sons room and found him playing with a syringe. When he asks where it came from, he claims the boy told him his mother gave it to him, it's a secret, mike isn't supposed to know about it. He says you could see residue, it had that cat piss smell. He asks what he should do, I say call the cops, tell them where it came from. When I hang up, I begin to have some serious doubts, it doesn't ring true to me. Mike calls the following day and tells me the cops said there was nothing they could do.

Up until that Saturday night phone call, my plan was to write a three part story about Mikes plight. After the phone call, I got the feeling that I was being played a little bit. What I know to be true, is what I read in those court papers. I know there was drug abuse, suicide attempts, but beyond that, I had to take his claims at face value. And that's where this story goes from a tale of hardship in tough economic times, and evolves in to a lesson in Internet experiments and gonzo journalism. There are a million stories waiting to be told, but how do you know if the one you are telling is accurate or not. The simple truth is often not so easy to find. For the most part I believe much of what Mike told me. At the same time, I think he tried to further promote his cause by adding the syringe story. Hey, maybe it went down like he said, but it just doesn't sound right.

So this story ends with an unexpected twist. I can't say it turned out in a way that pleases me. I set out to tell a story, perhaps make a positive impact in someones life. What I ended up with is more questions than answers, and a nagging doubt that prevents me from taking it any further.

*** I need to clarify a couple of things that came up from commenter Jools. Mike didn't ask for anything per se. The possibility of a lawyer offering pro bono services was mentioned, and Ive even made a couple of calls, but i doubt anything will come of it. He has custody of his kids, according to him, he is just trying to keep custody. I don't believe he was blowing smoke up my ass, like I said, I read the court documents and judges decision. The problem I had was the syringe story and the dialogue he claims took place between him and his son. For me, it just doesn't ring true. That nagging doubt does call in to question the details of what he told me. I think what I ended up with is half truths from one side of the story***

Madoff. the face of Evil? Like looking in to the eyes of Hitler? A Monster or just another old criminal ?

Someone asked me what I thought should happen to Bernie Madoff now that he has pled guilty to the worlds biggest Ponzi scheme. I suppose in a perfect world, a Sienfeld episode, or an 80's Eddie Murphy movie, Madoff would be sentenced to a life of servitude, the personal butler of his victims, or some other wacky Hollywood ending. The truth is, whatever happens, a life sentence, seizure of his assets, it's all a moot point, most of the money has been scattered to the four winds, paid out over the years to keep the scam afloat, probably several million, or billion tucked away for the family. The money is gone, at least the majority of it, Madoff is an old man, he had a 20 plus year run, in the game of crime, he is a winner.



On the other hand are the losers, people swindled out of millions, or a modest retirement. There is no restitution. Watching Madoff get hauled away in cuffs, the knowledge he will die in confinement, small comfort and poor recompense. Some of the victims have described Madoff as evil, or like looking in to the eyes of Hitler. I'm sure those people believe that, feel it with every fiber of their being. But Madoff isn't Hitler or the most evil person, not even close. He is a criminal, and like all criminals, he was propelled by greed. I think I speak with some authority when I say that criminals don't weigh the repercussions beforehand, never consider the ripple effect, that's what makes them criminals. I never walked in a bank thinking about all of the people effected by what I was about to do. I just thought about that money, and how I was going to get me some of it. I don't say that boastfully, it's a horrible way to think, to go through life, but it is real insight in to the way things work in that world. Criminals, real criminals, have a disconnect that most people don't have. It's that disconnect that allows them to be a criminal, I had it, Madoff has it in spades.

There is no shortage of tragedies in all of this. People committed suicide, charities went bust, lives were destroyed. Madoff was the perp, but what about the people who allowed him to do what he did? Where were the regulators, the watchdogs, their complacency is almost as bad as Madoffs crimes. I suppose if you measure justice by jail time, then Madoff had justice served upon him. But the feds let him get away without admitting to a conspiracy, and we all know he didn't act alone. There should have been RICO charges, there should have been multi count, multi defendant indictments. Maybe there will be, but I can't help but think there was some back room deal going on. He copped too fast, there was no deal, something isn't right. Anyone looking for true justice, a genuine resolution, should feel cheated.



Madoff does have a saving grace, if you can call it that, and it was on display when he pled to all of the charges. He could have drug this thing out for years, stayed in his penthouse, either died of old age, or at his own hand, but he didn't. Clearly he copped a plea to avoid a trial that would have almost certainly implicated his co conspirators, his wife, his sons, and anyone else who was involved in his scheme. That sacrifice is what kills the " he was a monster theory". Monsters don't throw themselves under the bus to save others. I can't imagine that this case is over, the main players in Madoffs Ponzi scheme still have their day of reckoning coming. Madoff will spend his remaining days in federal prison. Contrary to news hype, he wont serve hard time. The feds arent going to drop him in the middle of a bunch of hard types. Madoff will fade in to obscurity, just another old man spending his final days in federal prison, living in better conditions than many nursing home residents.

Hard Times

I received several responses to this post asking for people who are really struggling, just barely managing to keep their head above water. Starting Monday, I will have their stories here. I still want to hear from anyone else who has fallen on hard times. There are a million stories out there waiting to be told, begining Monday I will tell at least two of them.

No Scones, latte, or trips to Eddie Bauer....Poverty comes to Brookside.

The Star has a piece about a Brookside family of four who set out on a "Social Exercise" to live at poverty level for one year. I'm sure they are decent folks, so my beef isn't with them so much as the way the Star portrays their plight. The husband was laid off mid experiment, making the scrimping and penny pinching a necessity. That said, pinching pennies does not poverty make. I suppose it makes for more interesting reading to toss around phrases like Poverty Level and Financial Necessity, but this Experiment was not in any way shape or form a study in living at poverty levels. All this family really did was what middle class families are doing and have been doing in these tough economic times. It's called getting by.


The article talks about how they struggled to pay insurance premiums, and gave up orange scones from Panera. The horror of it all was almost to much for me to take. Maybe I'm just being a curmudgeonly stick in the proverbial mud here, it happens, but cutting out scones and worrying about health care don't even begin to scratch the surface of life at or below the poverty level. They talk about shopping at Aldis, and how they had to use coupons. I hate to be the bubble buster but gimme a break already.


Brookside in my opinion is the most idyllic neighborhood in the city. The homes range from really nice, to really really nice. The streets are lined with mature trees, children play without fear of catching a stray bullet, nobody is slinging dope or their body on a street corner, it's a safe place to live. Travel 5 minutes east and you will find the polar opposite. I think that's why this seemingly benign story struck a raw nerve with me. Frankly it left me wondering why this socioeconomic experiment was even worthy of print. Everyone is struggling to some degree or another, at least everyone of middle income. Again, my problem isn't with the folks in the story, it's with the story, the writer , and the Star.


Fluff, human interest horse shit, pandering to a certain demographic, are three things that come to mind, when I read this piece of drivel. Living in poverty is a far cry from getting by on 21 grand a year, giving up scones and lattes, and growing your own bell peppers. Kansas City's paper of record would have been better advised to search out a family east of Brookside, a family dealing with poverty in real time, rather than one who is playing at it. The Star ran what I considered one of it's best series ever on the high murder rate in one particular zip code. It pissed off more than a few "Community Advocates", but it rang true and brought to light the plight of the people forced to live in a war zone. It almost instilled faith in me that the Star was trying to be a real newspaper again, and not a vehicle for insipid tripe like KC INK.


Alas it was not to be, it was just a diversion until they could find more hard hitting news like impoverished Brooksiders, or the economic hardships of dating. So if the local paper can't be bothered with delving in to the real world reality of life at poverty level, I'll do it for them. I want to write a piece on a family who is really struggling, who is living at or below the poverty level, or a single mother who is just barely above water. Is it one of my readers? Someone you know?
Send me an email kramsmith50@hotmail.com, tell me your story, or the story of the person. I don't get a million hits a day, but as local blogs go I garner more than most. Who knows, bringing attention to someones plight might help them in the end, it certainly can't hurt. What I can promise you is this, I'll write it like it is, 100 percent fluff and horse shit free.

You say dress code, they say discrimination, I say they are both right.

Everyone and their second cousin has chimed in on the P&L district Dress Code Brawl currently taking place. Up until now I've kept my mouth closed and my trigger finger off the caps lock key. For those of you who don't hail from our fair city, here is the dealio in a nutshell. The P&L district is a revitalized area downtown. By revitalized, I mean to say, they gutted about 8 square blocks of history and replaced it with an ugly ass mirror ball called the Sprint Center, along with a slew of bars and over priced eateries. The people running the show implemented a dress code, which basically restricts access to anyone in saggy pants and white T shirts. In other words, young black guys and young white guys with identity issues who strive and fail to be young black guys.

This is a sensitive issue, on the one hand you have nut jobs like Carol ( I think we shared the same federal parole officer) Coe. On the other you have Shaun ( call me a quote whore) Edwards. Edward is a movie critic, and a black guy. Coe is a convicted felon, welcome to my world, who loves to double down on the race card. The thing they share in common, besides race, they are both as full of shit as a Christmas Goose. Edwards recently caught more than a little flack over a review of the movie Gran Torino. He said the film was racist. Actually, the film was about a racist, so yeah there were some racial elements to the movie. Captain Obvious got his drawers in a wad and gave the movie, which was critically acclaimed, a poor rating. He then apologized a few days later. Back Pedal much? Now Edwards is the Token Black Guy supporting the dress code. Coe just likes to throw a monkey wrench in the works, it's what she does.

Lets just get to the heart of the matter, Cordish doesn't want young black guys, especially of the over sized evening gown length white T shirt variety, mudding up the water and scaring off the credit card laden Abercrombie crowd. In defense of Cordish, one need only look at the mayhem created by young black guys in Westport. They drove away business, the crime rate soared, people were robbed, beat, mugged and killed. I know that statement will offend some people, but it's true none the less. That said, those crimes were not committed by every single kid who dressed like an extra from The Wire. What Cordish will soon find out is that you can't shoot the whole litter because one pup has fleas.

Suburban White people are afraid of Urban Black people, mmmmkay. The sleepy eyed black kid, bustin a sag and sportin the giant T shirt is the face of crime. We see them on the news, getting loaded in to the Paddy Wagon, we see them in shows like The Wire, slingin dope and indiscriminately murdering one another. Now white people who live in the core of the city know better. We know that every young black kid with poor fashion sense isn't going to kill us for 2 bucks. A big T shirt doesn't automatically come with a Glock, and a hat cocked sideways does not a killer make. When I walk the dogs around the block here in Midtown, it isn't uncommon to pass a few young black folks. I have yet to be robbed, shot, killed, maimed, or beat down. In fact, I usually get a head nod, or a how's it goin.

Cordish is worried about the bottom line, and for good reason. Killing the dress code in the P&L district will effect the bottom line. There will be fewer free spending white folks and more less than free spending black folks. It will hurt business. Too bad. This is the 21st century, you can't discriminate. If you don't want young black guys to show up, then turn the P&L district in to one big country bar, otherwise learn to live with integration. Will there be a spike in crime downtown once the dress code is killed, probably. Will people point and say "I told you so", you betcha. It's easy to not get excited about the day in day out Wild West atmosphere on the city's east side. While we don't like to admit it, and will adamantly deny it, there is a "fuck em and anybody who looks like em" attitude pervasive in this city. In other words, it's perfectly acceptable for young black guys to kill one another, and anyone who gets in the way, as long as they do it east of Troost. When they start encroaching west of that line, it suddenly becomes a problem.

Here's the problem. The majority of black people, even those in size 8 billion XL Tshirts, aren't killers, dope dealers, rapers of white women. The majority of the folks east of Troost are just regular people with the same problems as the rest of us, and then some. We should care that they are not safe on their own porch, in their parks, on their streets. The truth is, we don't really care unless it threatens to effect us directly. But we, and by we, I mean our local government and John Q me and you, should care. If for no other reason than our own safety and well being. Other than the dope trade, the real money as far as criminal activity is concerned, lies west of Troost. If I'm going to rob someone, I'm not going to hit some poor schmo coming out of Crown Liquor on the East side, I'm going to get some of that Waldo scrilla (money). So when we ignore the plight of the regular folks on the east side, we enable the criminal element to run rampant through the city.

Complacency and racial disparity are every ones worst enemy. Eventually we have to face that. We can't build a wall to separate us. Killing the dress code will be the beginning of the end for the P&L district, it's almost certain, and that's a good thing. It will bring to the forefront the heart of the problem. We need to address the ongoing issue of crime on the east side. Sadly we have to be hit in the pocket book before we give a rats ass. I think several hundred thugged out black guys invading the land of Ostrich sushi and 8 dollar micro brew is just what the doctor ordered. Like it or not, at the end of the day, we are all effected by crime, whether it takes place at 43rd and Wayne, or 47th and Main.

God protect the Mascot..............

Something wicked this way comes. There is a movement afloat, an all out attack, aimed at mascots. First Chuck E Cheese gets his giant head ripped from his body and pummeled by some overprotective parent. Now McGruff the Crime Dog gets roughed up by a D.C. metro bus driver. Clearly anti mascot sentiment is sweeping the nation. Whats next, will some disgruntled tax payer pounce on Uncle Sam or the Statue of Liberty because they don't like the way they wave?

I'll go on record here, I think the story about the bus driver who cracked McGruff in his giant dog head is just plain funny. McGruff has always seemed a tad creepy in my eyes, the disproportionately large head, the overcoat, the whole dog walking upright thing, it's never sat right with me. The bus driver, apparently got out of his metro line bus to adjust his mirrors. McGruff was handing out stickers or some such propaganda to a group of kids. The bus driver walks up to McGruff, does a Roy Jones Jr flurry on his giant dog head, gets back in his bus and flees the scene of the crime. McGruff calls the police who arrest the guy for battering a beagle. The local cops claim the kids were horrified. I'm going to have to call bullshit on that claim. What self respecting adolescent boy wouldn't find assault on a giant dog/man funny.

Now to Chuck E Cheese. Some moron parent thought he saw Chuck body check his little angel. So what does he do? He snaps, crackles, and pops Chuck's head off. Ever been to a Chuck E Cheese? Well I have, and the experience validates my belief that no child under the age of 15 should be allowed in public unless in restraints. It's a mad house in Chuck E Cheese land. All these kids running around at testicle thumping level, amped up on high fat content and sugar. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure that most of the little darlings are being well behaved, and I'm equally certain that the children of my readers are well behaved, walking, talking, Precious Moments figurines. But there is always one group of brats. One overindulged little shit, throwing a party attended by more of his ilk. These kids are the ones you generally see in the grocery store, throwing a fit in the cereal aisle, or at a restaurant, shrieking and bawling at the top of their little lungs, the parents casually continuing with their meal, while the other diners ears begin to bleed from the caterwauling. Those kids, need to be Hockey Checked by a giant rat. In fact, I think Chuck E Cheese should be armed with a cattle prod before venturing in to that 5th level of Hell that is an arcade.

There was a recent fictitious study, done in my mind, and the results were astounding. Mascots or giant puppet people are 20 times more likely to have drug and alcohol problems than the average American. Seriously, how could you get up, day in, day out, and not get loaded, knowing that you will be head butted and punched in your balls countless times throughout the day. Greasy, sticky, little claws, will be pulling your tail, while they scream gleefully. So if you happen to go to a Chuck E Cheese, and Chuck seems a little unsteady on his feet, or if his giant rat head seems to be wobbly and nodding off, don't judge. Life ain't easy when you are Chuck E Cheesey.

Puff Puff, pass the ...Cat?

Pay attention kids.

This is a Bong.

This is a Cat.

Apparently this is a Cat Bong.

Crime Scene Kansas City's James Hart was kind enough to warn us of a diabolical new drug culture, where cats are used as paraphernalia. Okay, that part about a new drug culture I just made up. I apologize for the literary liberties. And really, a story about a guy who puts his house cat in a shoebox then smokes weed through said shoebox, needs no extra additives. This clown is a scumbag to be sure, still you have to admit it's a little funny. I mean, this doofus sat around the house, watching Andy Griffith reruns, eating cereal, and making his own porno compilations from the pirated next door neighbors cable, when one day he had an epiphany! " My cat keeps meowing and shit, think I'll make a pot fueled, Kitty gas chamber, that should calm him down!"

Now I've got a confession to make; had the guy done this to a puppy, I'd be outraged, but it was a cat. Now don't get me wrong, I like cats, but they tend to be prickish by nature. They are aloof, unlike dogs who fall all over themselves in adoration when you walk through the door. My point is, the cat probably had it coming. He probably used the guys pot plant in the basement as a litter box, or sprayed his Grateful Dead Deadie Bear. Everyone has a breaking point, Cheech probably reached his after months of hi jinks from the cat. Anyway, our boy is headed to the jailhouse, Shadow the sleepy cat is chillin at the local animal shelter eating Friskies with chocolate chips in it.

Can't be bothered..........................

Much of the past month has been consumed with house hunting. The girlfriend has decided to take the plunge, given the bargain basement home prices throughout the metro. It's been interesting to say the least. Better than 3/4ths of the homes have been vacated, evictions are the theme of the day. One persons misfortune is anther's windfall. All of these empty houses, we must have looked at 50 or 60 this month, they all have started to bleed in to one another, a string of endless rooms in varied states of disrepair. As we have walked through one house after another, one thing has stood out, not what is there, but what isn't. For the most part you never get a sense of the people who lived there. A few busted lawnmowers or rusted barbecue grills aside, not much has been left behind. trash, dust, holes in walls, cobwebs, and detritus.

There have been a few exceptions. There was a cluster of 4 houses sitting back off the road in a cul de sac. They were all supposed to be empty but footprints in the snow traced a path between the two. Basement doors were unlocked, someone had been squatting in one or both of the houses, they were both trashed. Trashed houses were not an exception to the rule, they were the rule. It was as though whoever had lived there never intended to stay, never made the house a home, just staying long enough to tear it up, then move on.

One of the last houses we looked at was also an exception. The house was in an older working class neighborhood that was going to seed. The smallish blue bungalow was different, it wasn't abandoned by choice, but by time and age. It was your grandparents home, or the former home of some other aging relative. It was being sold with all of the contents, the furniture, pots and pans, everything that was in the house went with the house, unless the buyer didn't want it, then the sellers would have it emptied out, removing the evidence of the former occupants existence.

The clothes had been removed from the closets, the food discarded from the refrigerator and cupboards, other than that, all of the former occupants possessions remained in the house.

There was a buffet in the dining room, the drawers still held an old woman's glasses, decks of cards, worn and well played. The old woman also stored coasters she had knit, lace doilies made by hand. There was a Kleenex holder made to look like a cat, I remember my own grandmothers having much the same type of things in their homes. I walked down in the basement, it was full of the old couples possessions. There was a handmade locomotive and coal car collecting dust, discarded and left behind. The old man obviously made it for a son or grandson, it wore the signs of having been played with. A work bench, tools still lining the wall, covered in dust, sat silent in one corner, probably the very spot where the toy train came to life.

I asked the realtor again if she was certain everything was being left behind, she answered it was there for the taking if the buyer wanted it. Two old bikes, Western Flyer's sat on flats, suitcases and boxes lay open, the contents rifled through and carelessly crammed back inside when the contents failed to prove of value to the searcher. The family of the former occupants, the children of the old couple who had lived in the house, just wanted it all gone, the house sold, the check deposited and proceeds divided. It struck us as sad, heart breaking really. There was no real monetary value to the coasters, the doilies, the old crude toy train. That's why it was being left behind. The furniture was well cared for, the house was spotless, it was a time capsule. The small items and bric a brac, proof that lives had been lived here. We wondered how they could leave those items for some strangers. We left the house with the feeling that the children of the former occupants didn't want to be bothered with it all.

On the other side of town another old person waits for time to collect its due. She sits surrounded by her possessions, a block or two from Union Hill martini bars. She doesn't have a tissue holder made to look like a cat, she isn't knitting coasters for an unappreciative son or daughter. Her possessions are the treasure of the unstable, rags, clothes, God only knows what, surround her like a big nest, spilling out on to the sidewalk from the doorway of the empty building she calls home. She shares a common thread with the old people who once called the blue bungalow home and apathy is it's name. The elderly seem to be a burden we no longer care to be bothered with. From tidy blue bungalows to midtown sidewalks. We can't be bothered.