Monday, August 31, 2009

Justice or Witch Hunt? Katrina vs. Threats to your momma.


With the anniversary of the countries most devastating natural disaster of our lifetime just behind us, there has been plenty of news and commentary about post Katrina New Orleans. Four years ago the we watched the devastation unfold, safe and dry in our midwestern living rooms. Most of us made some fairly harsh judgements from our easy chairs. We listened to New Orleans Mayor, Ray race card Nagin, complain that the feds weren't doing enough, while he did just as little. We watched as the man who ran FEMA left people to fend for themselves. We saw people lying dead on sidewalks, bloated and fly blown, bobbing in fetid waters, old and young, the most vulnerable left to fend for themselves. We saw the worst of people. Cops caught on camera shopping, along with the rest of the looters. People who we wanted to pity, until we saw them packing big screen televisions through broken store windows.


Red tape and multiple government dick measuring, Nagin sat on buses instead of evacuating the people he was charged to protect. A FEMA director whose previous job experience was judging horse shows, smiling beside Bush while that famous line spilled from the Moron in Chiefs mouth, "Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job", or words to that effect. We can deploy an entire Battalion of Marines to foreign soil in under 48 hours, but we couldn't get food and water to people in our own country for 5 days. In my opinion, the way the Bush administration handled Katrina was the biggest failure and dereliction of duty in the eight years that Bush ran this country.


Trust me when I say, I was one of the first to blame those who stayed after being told to leave. I still believe more people could have left, could have survived, had they heeded the warnings. I still believe they shared as much if not more responsibility for their hardship those first weeks. But that's really missing the point. For every idiot who stayed behind by choice, there were children who paid for the decision they had no hand in making. Nagin blamed the feds, the feds blamed the Governor and Nagin, cover your ass was the theme of the day. So four years later, for most of us, Katrina is a distant memory. Most of us have moved on, put those eight years of the Bush administration behind us. Liberals aren't calling for heads over the New Orleans debacle. Which brings me to the real subject of this post.


Atty. Gen. Eric H. Holder Jr. opened an investigation into whether CIA interrogators broke the law, and the Obama administration complied with a judge's order and released a long-secret CIA report that cataloged allegations of agency prisoner abuse. Out of all of the Bush administrations many sins, the one that seems to have people up in arms the most, are the tactics we used to get information from suspected terrorists. Human rights groups, liberals with an agenda, and a grudge, a current administration with too much on its plate already, journalists, and bloggers. They started with the military, moved to the CIA, and we all know where that road leads, Bush and Cheney. That's what this investigation is really about, breaking it off in Bush and Cheney. It's not about justice. If justice was foremost in the mind of the current administration, there would be investigations focusing on why Americans were allowed to suffer during Katrina. Nagin would be out of work, Brownie would be in jail, Bush would be busy issuing apologies. Instead we focus on the supposed rough treatment of people who would love to see our children's heads on a pike. We wring our hands over empty threats made to kill some guy in Afghanistan's mother, we rise up in self righteous indignation over pouring water in the face of a religious zealot, we hang our heads in shame because " this isn't how Americans treat their enemies". We are going to hang onto this investigation like a pit bull, we won't let go until we taste blood.


I'm watching Cheney on Fox news as I write this. He is giving a multitude of reasons why the investigation is a bad thing. Of course his biggest concern is his own ass, and politics. Make no mistake, Cheney in my opinion is the second biggest douche bag to come down the pike, Bush being the first. Carter running a not too distant third. Back to my point, I find it more than a little telling that a section of society is so wrapped up in "Getting those Guys". It doesn't smell like justice, it doesn't feel like they just want to get to the truth, it seems more like a lynch mob atmosphere. There is no doubt that Cheney and Bush made a lot of really shitty moves, they dropped the ball with more regularity than a Chiefs running back. Given that, you'll be hard pressed to convince me that CIA tactics are their biggest sin.
Today, right now, we have almost 10 percent unemployment, people who can't afford to be sick, a local murder rate that will probably be a record setter, we have plenty of problems. Why take any focus off of the major issues that plague this country with a witch hunt? If we are so concerned about the tacit violation of Human Rights , why put all of this focus on a hand full of incidents involving our known enemies, while ignoring the major human rights violations that took place during Katrina? It appears that a few brown skinned people on a different continent are more important than the brown skinned folks in New Orleans. Maybe I'm reaching here, but that's certainly how it seems on the surface. Which was a greater violation of Human rights, the way we dealt with potential terrorists, or the way we failed our own people, especially the most helpless, the elderly, infirm, and young? You tell me. I smell something, but it ain't justice.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Fast Eddie Friday... I want that one back.



We all experience at least one of those moments in our lives, or multiple moments. I'm talking about that "oh shit, I want that one back" moment. It can be a mistake you make, a slip of the tongue, or some really stupid accident brought on by an equally stupid action. Here's an example. When I was about 7 I happened to walk through the kitchen one day while my mom was making a cake. I said Making a cake , not Baking a cake, big difference there, besides we're talking about my mother, so watch your mouth. Anyway, she had left her post at the counter, and I found myself alone with a big ass mixing bowl of cake batter. We had those Sunbeam mixers back then. A chrome colored, rocket shaped, bad ass of a mixer. There weren't any pussified food processors or Jack Lalane Juicers back in the 60's. Fans had metal blades, and would chop your hand off if you stuck it in there. Lawnmowers just shot grass and rocks out of the side, no guards or safety shut offs, you could lose a fuckin eye, or worse. If a woman got her I Dream of Genie ponytail caught in one of those mixers, she could end up looking like a Franciscan monk. Anyway, there sits the mixer, tipped back on it's stand, two beaters sticking out of it, swathed in cake batter. Being your standard issue, walking germ factory, and social retard that 7 year olds are, I figured it couldn't hurt if I just slid over there and sampled some cake batter. So I did. My first thought was grab a spoon, then, use your finger, and finally, a small seemingly rational voice said, "just lick the beater". So I did, and just as I touched my tongue to the chrome beaters, it happened, I bumped that round speed switch on the back, the GO button. It was just the slightest of touches, just enough to make the beaters take a couple of slow revolutions. Just enough to twist my tongue between the beaters, like it was an I Dream of Jeanie ponytail. Mom managed to detangle my tongue from the mixer, a trip to the hospital, and a few months of no salt, and it was like it never happened. But there was that one moment, just as the mixer rolled my tongue up, a crystalline moment when time froze, and I thought, "oh shit, I want a do over". That's the moment I'm talking about. There were several people in the news this week who had one of those " I want that one back moments" or IWTOB for short.


Phillip Garrido had a major IWTOB moment. Garrido, was charged along with his wife for the kidnapping of Jaycee Dugard when she was 11. She was kept in a shed, gave birth to two children, and rarely if ever left the couples home. The two girls have never attended school, never saw a doctor. Garrido, a registered sex offender on lifetime parole, was ordered to visit a police station after a report of suspicious activity involving him and two young children the previous day. He took the two children with him, along with Jaycee. That decision to bring his victims to the police station will be the IWTOB moment haunting Garrido, as he hopefully spends the remainder of his days in prison. Garrido is a major fruitcake. Here is his blog. Garrido hears the voice of God. Sadly, he never heard his conscience during the 19 years he robbed from his victim.


"Republicans are struggling right now to find the great white hope," . Kansas Republican Congresswoman Lynn (I'm a fuckin moron) Jenkins had her moment , one of many, when she uttered that sentence at a forum in Hiawatha Kansas. Nothing says IWTOB, like some tight ass, wonder bread, Kansas politician making a racially charged comment in front of a room full of witnesses. GOP leaders are cringing, no doubt. With the republican party in a struggle to sway moderates to jump the fence and join the GOP, statements from walking tree stumps like Jenkins don't help.


I could go on all day, but I've gone too long already. The one common denominator among all "I want that one back" moments, you can't get them back. Life doesn't have a delete button. The best you can hope for is the moment will fade with time. In some cases like the kidnapping, voice hearing freak, Garrido, the moment will never fade. He will spend many a long night in prison going over the moment he made a decision that jumped up and bit him in the ass. Rightfully so. In Jenkins case, she will go on to have many more moments, her foot has a permanent parking space in her pie hole. As for me, I steer clear of hand mixers.


Have a good weekend, and try to avoid having one of those moments.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Alonzo Washington thinks Child Molestation is Funny

How's that for an attention grabber? Alonzo wants attention, I guess shit is slow in the Crime Fightin, tragedy pimpin biz, so he is fishing for hits. I normally steer clear of Alonzo's My Space page for a multitude of reasons. His writing is comparable to that of an eight year old dyslexic, in the middle of a grand mal siezure. My eyes hurt just trying to wade through his butchering of the English language. I'm no Charles Dickens myself, but I do understand the rule that you use A before words that start with a consonant sound, and AN before words that start with a vowel sound. His page also makes my computer bog down, must be all the flash greetings from the ghetto-tastic hood rats who send him sparkly roses, much love and shout outs in booty shorts. So I avoid Alonzo's My Space page like a hemophiliac avoids razor blades. Were it not for the widget on TKC, I would be blissfully oblivious to Alonzo's special ed musings. He took some shots at me over the Fox 4 interview, I let it slide. He mocked child abuse victims, I let it pass. he called me a coward. I let it alone. I figured gas prices are kind of high and he couldn't scrape up a few bucks to gas up his Smegma scooter, or Smegma mobile, so he decided to suck up a few hits through a blog war. I suppose he is still stinging from being taken to task by me, over vicious comments he made about a young murder victim. He even called the dead kids family liars. Classy.

Well, Smegma Man is at it again. I know, I know, his lame character is called Omega Man, but Smegma Man seems more fitting, plus he will have to look it up. Let's face it, Alonzo needs all the Cyferin Lessuns he can get. The offending post was classic Alonzo, here is AN excerpt,


"Anyway,the old school criminal blogger is a good person to talk to these guys. He was touched by a old man as a kid & was most likely done the same way while he was locked up. I pretty sure he was a prison ho because he appears to be a weakling with no heart to me. He is a coward like these new crooks because when he did a blog about a freak named Uncle Ed fear entered his heart after he got some threats. Plus, he is a loser who could never get any attention on without a blog. In the real world he is just a old, fat & ugly Ex-con". Classy huh? And he wonders why the local media shuns him more often than not. Why would anyone talk to some clown who makes jokes about a child being molested? Short answer, they wouldn't, and they don't. Alonzo is guilty of the same crime the feds popped me for, "Uttering as Genuine". I can sit up here all day, claim that I'm getting tips, swear I solved crimes, but that doesn't make it true. the truth is Alonzo doesn't get credit, because he rarely deserves it. He turned in a tip for the Precious doe case. That's a good thing, I give him props for doing it, regardless of his motivation. Beyond that, this guy has done nothing more than make baseless, unsubstantiated claims. He may have some people hoodwinked, but as a former slinger of bullshit, I recognize it when I see it. The reason Alonzo isn't of the same stature of say Alvin Brooks, is because he only cares about Alonzo. He calls the greatest advocate for the black community, a Tom. It's little wonder he is reduced to picking fights with bloggers he claims are nobody. When you resort to playing the dozens from your my space page, you are a failure at being the big time activist you claim to be.

Dayummmmmmmm, ouch! For a guy who is constantly going on, and on, and on, about how he is a Man of Gawd, just fightin the good fight, he sure doesn't have much compassion for victims of child abuse. To be fair, he probably doesn't grasp that making light of Child Molestation, regardless of the victim, is tantamount to ridiculing ALL VICTIMS, Alonzo isn't exactly an abstract thinker. And what's up with all the tough guy talk? I think those tight ass, funny style, wife beaters he wears are cutting off the blood flow to his brain. Or maybe the pound of hair grease he uses to plaster over his thinning wig, which rests atop his disproportionally large and bulbous head, have leeched toxic petrochemical products into his sub standard gray matter. Whatever the case may be, Smegma Man clearly hasn't progressed past the age of 16, which explains why he insists on calling me old, even though we are only 8 years apart in age.


So I'm faced with a conundrum here. Do I ignore Harold Penners biggest customer? Been there done that, didn't work. Do I take the easy cheap shots? Let's face it, the guy has no job, and more kids than a Mormon, so he must just live off his wife's earnings, and maybe some, ahem, Public assistance. In the world of insecure machismo that Washington resides in, living off a woman is kind of like pimpin. Then again, maybe he is making major cheddar from those comic book sales, or his action figure, a spray painted dollar store toy. Now I don't know that for a fact, but facts never got in Washington's way, so what's good for the goose. I could pull a couple hundred, quotes from his My Space page, truth be told the guy is his own worst enemy.
But cheap shots are a dime a dozen, and Washington has already been picked apart countless times. The problem is, he was just to dull witted to realize when he had his ass handed to him. I have wracked my brain trying to find a solution to this ongoing ankle biting campaign that Alonzo just won't let go. I think he is lonely, and jealous. His my space, heh heh, blog posts don't get comments very often. he thinks he gets mad hits, but fails to realize that the 1200 times a day he clicks on his own blog are all the hits he is getting. But I'm a nice guy so I'll let Alonzo ride my jock and send him some traffic. When you are a two bit attention whore, lack of attention is like a silver bullet. So show Alonzo some love, send him a glittering My Space rose or leave a comment on his "Blog".
I was going to challenge Smegma Man to AN Indian leg wrasslin match atop city hall, but he would have taken it seriously, and I don't want him taking that huge magic marker head up there. The wind might catch it and propel him like a hot air balloon. God only knows where he would end up. He might land in some third world country, where the locals might confuse him for a large wobble headed monster, and smote him with sticks and rocks. Besides, I'm not sure he can Leg Wrassle in those tight ass clothes he wears. So if you are feeling charitable, send a shout out to Alonzo, I think he is lonely in My Space land. Holla atcha boy , Alonzo!!!! Oh, and if you want to keep shit formal his middle name is Lanert, with a name like that it's no wonder he has more self esteem issues than an Old fat criminal blogger. Now I'll sit back and wait for his response, which will be a real hoot. In fact, let me save Alonzo his paltry dozen or so brain cells by offering up his response.


check this

a local criminal blogger is mad because I ....blah blah blah. He is old an fat....blah blah...i smell fear...blaH BLAH. i have many haters. they dont like that i am a angry proud black man, who be's fighting the good fight. i write this blog in my sleep. i right like I am 4 because it a method i use. i have a comic book and a car an a scotter two. That is why my haters be hating on me. there womans want me. When this blogger attacked me he was being rasisit. this criminal blogger is a nobody who will die soon bcause he is a old fat guy. i dont no why I has so many haters. I just trying to get tips and fight the goo fight. Blah, blah, and blah. This criminal says he was molested as an child. that is funny. he must be afraid of me. i am jus a man of god. i will knock him out. i has a ms pacman machine god blessed me.

Love Peace and hair grease

Alonzo Lanert Washington.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

You might want to exchange that crown for a tiara.

The Independence Examiner had a a hard hitting (not really) piece on the 4 Identity Confused knuckle heads, who recently beat two men in an Independence church parking lot, killing one and seriously injuring the other. The Examiner took a few excerpts from one of the offending douche bags My Space page. It was edited,(washed of all meaning and context) for the readers. It was so diluted they wouldn't even include a link to the page they reported on. The reporter missed the real story here. Aside from the tragedy of four dirt bags taking the life of a young man who was playing ball in the parking lot, the real story behind the my space page of Justin M. Trotter, is his contrived street thug persona. It's a growing problem throughout the Metro, but seems especially prevalent here in Independence. Well there won't be any beating around the bush here, so lets just get to it, shall we? Normally I would just pick these clowns apart, make some derogatory remarks, and move on. But to steal a line from Jules of Pulp Fiction, " I'm in a transitional phase, I don't want to hurt you, I want to help you. So in keeping with that spirit of helping my fellow Independites, I am composing a letter to the four misguided young men, who if convicted, are facing lengthy prison terms.


Dear Soon to be Fuckin in a Winnie the Pooh suit,

I have no idea if you are in fact guilty of the charges leveled against you. It is totally plausible that the authorities have mistaken you for some other group of Wankstas, (white punks who attempt to emulate black gangstas and fail). There are so many of you misguided ass hats prowling the streets of the metro, it's possible you are innocent. Highly unlikely, but possible, considering at least one of you admitted to attacking the two victims without provocation. In any event, should you be found innocent, you are well on your way to the joint anyway , so just use this letter as a guide for your dismal future.


As I was reading your My Space, my space, really ?, it became increasingly clear that you are part of a growing trend of pasty white kids, who think adopting an urban black street dialect makes you a gangsta. It doesn't. What it makes you, is a walking advertisement for the pro choice movement. Your use of said dialect comes off as genuine as someone from Little Rock adopting a contrived Australian accent. Your use of the word Niggaz in your my space page, is but one example of a major faux pas that will get your shit pushed in when you get to the joint. You are going to gravitate toward the young black guys who run much of the prison yard, I suggest you greet them with a hearty, "Wuz up my Niggaz". After you are released from the infirmary, and the bruising of your entire body, including the soles of your feet, has faded, these young urbanites will gladly welcome you into the fold. You will learn to cornrow hair, wash draws,(underwear), and scrub socks in a prison toilet. You'll also need to learn to be content with your new found status , because you will be ostracised by everyone else in the prison. Before long you will change your name to Peaches, or Mercedes, rouge your cheeks, and stain your lips with koolaid, and start wear your prison shirt tied at the midriff like Ellie Mae. Hence the term, "Fuckin in a Winnie the Pooh suit". I realize that Ellie never actually wore a Winnie the Pooh suit, it's a prison metaphor.


I realize much of your life experience was derived from grand Theft Auto, Vice City, and Menace to Society. I am saddened to have to tell you that unlike Video Games, and Hollywood dramatizations, the real world of criminals doesn't have a reset button, and there is no super power boost mode that will allow you to escape when the wolves come calling. "It's a Hard Knock Life" isn't just the lyrics to a Jay Z song, or from the Movie Lil Orphan Annie. No my dimwitted, soon to be walking funny wiggaz, you are going to be living a real Hard Knock Life. Shit gets deeper. In a few years, maybe just months, your friends and family will write you off. Mom will decide that your commissary money is dipping too deep into her beer and cigs fund, and the money orders and letters will slow to a trickle, then stop altogether. On the bright side, you will have mad skillz at hair braiding , sock washing, and a few other tricks. While some of those tricks may leave you with a bad taste in your mouth, heh, that's just your pride fuckin with you. Fight through that shit. When you are living it up on the yard, hands soft from hours of greasing scalps with Blue Magic, smoking joints the size of toothpicks, while curled up in a corner with Debo, you are gonna thank me. You'll think, "M M was right, I look pretty good as a girl".


The first few years are going to be touch and go. The days of impressing like minded, clueless, suburban white kids are long gone. No more will you be able to post pictures of your pistols, or your scrawny pot plants, captioned with tough guy thug dialect. There is no My Space in prison. There are no girls to impress out of their panties with manufactured stories of being "one of the most savage motha fucker youll ever meet". That's a mighty bold statement and one you will be retracting. In comparison to the guys you are about to meet, you are as soft as the Bear on a Snuggle fabric softener box. Medicated cotton is hard in comparison to you 4 young wanna be's. I would advise you to get religion when you get to the joint. Toting a bible won't save you from the well earned abuse you will be suffering, but it will give you someone to talk to in the long sleepless night ahead. You four morons should be happy, you are finally living the life of a true gangsta, locked up, devoid of hope, your future bleak, congrats and welcome to the big time. You earned it, and you deserve to reap all the rewards that come with it.


Sincerely and Fuck you very much,

Midtown Miscreant

Monday, August 24, 2009

Is that an animal corpse you are munching, or are you just glad to see me?


I hate to be the type of guy who brings attention to someone best left under the rock they periodically crawl out from under, but I'm going to have to be that type of guy. My post about the deer population and proposed culling of the overpopulated herd in Shawnee Mission Park brought me to the website and blog of Jason Miller. Miller is the self avowed protector of defenseless animals from the hoards of carnivorous capitalist scum, that means most of you reading this. I don't normally get to worked up over some tofu eater who plays anarchist/activist, I generally poke fun of them then move on. But this clown has some fairly disturbing writing, and it made me wonder if the clueless mostly normal people who rubbed elbows with this dirt bag really know his philosophy, or if they just joined in the protest because they are still traumatized over Bambi's mom getting a cap popped in her big white tail.


Here is an excerpt from his blog "Imagine the panic and economic backlash if someone countered their reprehensible mendacity with some major black propaganda. Widespread and effectively orchestrated rumors of massive quantities of BSE-infected “meat,” millions of gallons of “milk” tainted with melamine, thousands of people experiencing horrific side effects and dying as a result of taking the latest pharmaceutical that was deemed “safe” via animal testing".


Yep, you read correctly. This shit heel is promoting poisoning the food chain, that means he is perfectly fine with the mass killing of men, women, and children in his battle to save animals. There is an endless supply of crazy talk on Millers site. One of Millers buddies takes crazy to a whole different level. Dave Warwak, who was featured in the Pitch comment O the week, along with yours truly, is another animal rights terrorist and all around nut job. Warwak was fired a couple years back from a teaching position at a middle school in Chicago. He was teaching Vegan ism to the class. His method is beyond crazy. Warwak passed out marshmallow Peeps to his students. He had the students care for the Peeps for a few days, sort of like the school project that has students care for a baby doll. After a few days Warwak had the kids bring the peeps to school. He chopped off their heads, the Peeps, not the students. He skinned a Peep and made a vest or some other fashion design for a Barbie. He got shit canned for his efforts, duh. Warwak is also another big promoter of terrorist acts in the pursuit of animal rights. Lest I forget, warwak taught students with learning disabilities. Here is an excerpt from Warwak's blog

"I am all for violence instead of dragging animal liberation’s realization just to avoid violence. I mean nonviolence is cool … when it works ... when we have the time."


So what's the point MM? Do you think these chuckle heads will really follow through? Maybe not, but they certainly play to an audience that has more than a few dimly lit bulbs in it. The Internet is chock full of easily impressed head cases, and there in lies the real danger. Charlie Manson was able to manipulate a small group of impressionable middle class kids into doing some pretty horrific shit. These guys have a vastly wider audience. I wonder how many of the well meaning albeit misguided people who joined in the Shawnee Mission Park protests were aware of the philosophy of Miller and his cronies.


We look to the sky like Chicken Little, waiting for Muslim extremists to fly a 747 into a new building, we worry about the next terrorist attack coming from another continent. I think the real threat to America is the home grown terrorist. Zealots like Miller and Warwak who prey on the silly putty gray matter of impressionable college kids who are mad at Mommy and Daddy for giving them a good life and the opportunity to piss away 5 or 10 years in Art school. We write these guys off as harmless hippy types who eat from dumpsters and smell like patchouli. That's a big mistake, and one day in the not too distant future that ignorance will rise up and bite us in the ass. The pro life movement while mostly inhabited by well meaning religious folks, has also spawned some cold blooded killers. Islamic extremists have done likewise. My point is that the danger doesn't necessarily lie in the messenger, but in those who take the message to heart. I'm not saying the next act of terrorism will originate from Miller and company's ramblings, but it's not implausible.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Fast Eddie Friday... Wayne Newton's son stirs controversy at Starlight.... Plum smugglers catch traffic beef in Prairie Village.


Lil Wayne is performing at Starlight monday night, and officials at the outdoor theater say they won't let anyone near the joint without a ticket. I guess they are afraid that throngs of Castrato will show up and start singing Danke Schoen while tossing glitter at passersby. .... Say what? Lil Wayne isn't related to Wayne Newton? Oh, THAT Lil Wayne, the blunt smoking, Codeine syrup drinking, face tattooed, kinda crazy Rapper. That explains it. Now the real question, who is the meat head who booked a rap act at a theater that is better known for third rate musicals and Jim Nabors. Seriously, who did these geniuses think was going to show up for a Lil Wayne concert, Mormons?
It never ceases to amaze me that people can be so clueless. The management at Starlight plans to beef up security, hire extra cops, and check the tickets of the young, mostly black fans who might show up. They haven't come out and said as much, but the fear is a bunch of urban black kids will raise hell, hang out in the parking lot, and maybe start shooting each other for shits and grins. Now said genius will face accusations of discrimination and racism, and this time it's a good call. Starlight doesn't normally check tickets to get in the parking area, not for Wayne Newton, Jim Nabors, played out 70's love rock bands, or any of the other acts performing at that venue. So when they book a hip hop act, then start changing the way they deal with the folks coming to the show, when said act and fans are mostly black, then that is discrimination and dare I say it racism. While their fears may not be totally unfounded, that point is moot. They deserve whatever bad publicity they get, for being stupid enough to book an act then treat the concert goers differently than the milk toast crowd who normally show up in Birkenstocks to watch a third rate performance of My Fair Lady. Solution: don't book acts if you are afraid of the attendees. This story came by way of TKC.


So 17 self entitled shit heels from Prairie Village got their Plum smuggler bike shorts in a wad over traffic tickets they received for blowing a stop sign. I guess their loud voices demanding equal rights on the road didn't go unheard. Now if the Kansas City PD would grow a pair and start enforcing traffic laws violated by cyclists, there might be a little more peace and harmony between the guys in funny helmets and folks in cars. I was all set to spew a wheel barrow load of insults and one liners over the outrage by local cyclists, sadly they pissed in my Post Toasties and didn't play into my hands. I fully expected the local Bike blogs to go all defensive and start crying foul for being singled out, but they didn't. For the most part they agreed that the clowns in PV had it coming for disobeying the rules of the road. I may have to rethink my stereotypical opinions and attitudes about cyclists. Then again as long as the unkempt Critical mASSes are running amok through the city on their monthly ride, and as long as idiots keep blocking entire lanes of traffic through the major roads in this city, I guess I can keep disliking anyone in neon spandex who slows me down. I will concede that there seems to be a growing movement among cyclists to be a little considerate of the cars that outweigh them by thousands of pounds. Just don't honk at a bike rider, it's against the law.


Nadia Pflaum at the Pitch had a really good story about an especially brutal rape that occurred not far from KU medical center about 9 years ago. The victim gets my vote for the most ballsy woman , or man ever. It was a good read you can check it out here. Then she did a short follow up piece on a retired sex crime cop who tracked a few of the different rapists that preyed on Westport and midtown victims. This detective, Clarence Gibson, made the following statement during the interview; "We started followin' this guy everywhere he went. We saw him entering this house through a sliding glass door. Soon as he left, half the squad followed him, the other half knocked on [the woman's] door. She said, 'A guy just broke into my house and raped me.' So that's how they caught him."

I hope this was a misquote, but I doubt it. If a group of cops stood by while some freak broke into a womans home, raped her, then fled the scene, then every last one of them should be fired if they are still working, stripped of their pensions, and forced to reenact the basement scene in Pulp Fiction, and not in the role of Zed. I'm thinking more along the lines of Ving Rhames role as the unwilling catcher Marsellus Wallace. Seriously how wrong would it be for the cops to stand by while some creep did his dirt in order to get a case on the guy. It doesn't surprise me, I'm just shocked the old Dick admitted it.


Okay that's a wrap. Have a safe weekend.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Deer protests are led by anarchist douche bag.



Bite Club Kansas City is set to protest the Deer Culling Program in Shawnee Mission Park. The program is supposed to cut back on the deer population by hunting and thinning the herd. I'm no hunter, never have been, wouldn't shoot a deer unless it came at me with a knife. I'll even admit that it would be nice if the Parks Department found another way to get the deer population in check. So I have no beef with any reasonable person who objects to the current plan to turn hunters loose to cull the herd. Unfortunately, when it comes to animal rights people the loudest voices always seem to be the biggest wack jobs. It's like the Health Care protests, we always see news clips of some rabid nut job, spit flying from a loud mouth, devoid of all reason and cognitive thought, spouting conspiracy theories and making an ass of themselves. After taking a look at Bite Clubs web page I'm pleased to announce they fit your typical crazy activist stereotype.




Here are a few morsels from a group that is heavy on crazy, and light on practicality.


Bite Club of KC is an independent, zero-profit animal rights and liberation activism group.


Campaign tactics will include educating the exploiters, negotiating with the exploiters, speaking out for the victimized nonhuman animals through the media, demonstrating against the exploiters, informing the exploiters’ neighbors of their barbaric activities, and potentially engaging in civil disobedience.




Did you catch those last two words? Ahhhh, Civil disobedience. Jason Miller the guy who is spearheading the protest is a self proclaimed Vegan Anarchist. Winner winner chicken dinner! Huston we have lift off, the crazy level just got kicked up about a dozen notches. The bite club website spouts the usual civil disobedience rhetoric, threats of violence, the standard Anarchist shtick. Millers own website Thomas Paines Corner is chock full O standard cut and paste anarchy writings and ramblings. Here is an excellent example of how this chuckle heads mind works. From millers website " As bad as black Africans had it throughout the era of social apartheid, species apartheid is an even more oppressive system". That's right, you heard him, he just compared the civil rights movement, slavery, and apartheid with animal rights. In fact he implies that the plight of your two piece and a biscuit is even more egregious than slavery or racism.




This is why any chance of reaching an alternative solution to the deer overpopulation problem in Shawnee mission park will fail. Much like any reasonable conclusion in the health care debate being reached, you cant reason with a zealot, and you can't put deodorant on an Anarchist. When you introduce crazy into any equation, reason doesn't stand a chance. So expect some graffiti to start showing up around Shawnee mission park, possibly some liberation's of Canadian Geese, and hopefully a few douche bags in Ninja suits getting mistaken for Bambi and ending up with an arrow in the ass. Lest we forget, it was local Kansas City Anarchists who vandalised the grotto at the Redemptorist church on Broadway. A group who claims to be for the little people, the exploited and down trodden. They vandalized a place that the very people they claim to care about used to connect with their God. In the name of "The Cause" they robbed mostly poor, mostly Mexican people of a place they found comfort and peace. Nice job douche bags. No doubt the irony of your actions are lost on you.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

America will be defeated not by the gun, or hordes of invading Mongols. Hot wax and vanity will be our ruin.


I was perusing the KC Star website this morning. One of my first reads is always James Hart's Crime Scene Kansas City, then I meander over to see who Jason (stay puff) Whitlock is insulting, and really that's about it for the Star. Other than the occasional mocking of the twits over at KC Ink, or taking potshots at one of the hack columnists, I tend to avoid the Stars website just because of the annoying pop up, roll down, dance across the page advertisements. I usually take a look at the front page of the website as well. This morning on the front page about half way down comes this Pulitzer contender; "Manscaping: Waxing poetic about the razor’s lost edge".


You can read the full story at the link above, or you can just settle for the Readers Digest condensed version and vitriol laden commentary here. I'd suggest the latter as the Star piece takes itself way to seriously on the subject of Men and body hair waxing.


I would have expected this article to turn up on the Stars shallow insipid Carrie Bradshaw emulating sister site KC Ink. A man getting waxed seems more in keeping with the format at KC Ink. I mean they regularly delve into hard hitting commentary about who is their hottest Male and Female reader, dating disasters, and the Frink of the week or some such drivel. So it seems like an in depth story about men getting waxed would be better suited slapped up on the page of a rag that is read by Abercrombie wearing, overpriced condo dwelling, douche nozzles, than in the actual paper of record. Then again I wouldn't have seen it. Before you write me off as a bitter 50 year old with a prematurely white goatee, that is out of touch with todays trends, I get the whole body aesthetic, trying to look like Brad Pitt thing. In fact, I dip my entire body in a vat of Nair once a week, I'm as slick and streamlined as a pregnant Seal. Close your mouth and wipe that look of revulsion off your mug, I'm kidding. Reality trumped vanity years ago. When you hit a certain age you realize that if God exists she is a woman, with spiky hair, wearing Birkenstocks and man pants, with a mean streak, hell bent on stripping away every shred of self esteem a middle aged man possesses. Hair falls out of your head and magically sprouts out of your ears. Your arms shrink and your waistline grows. You go from a V shape to looking like a Weeble. Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. But I digress.


Anyway, the little Peacock in the Star story gets his chest, underarms and even nostrils waxed. Yeah, you heard me, his fuckin nostrils. That's where this country is headed. In the not too distant future we will be governed by alien looking, totally hairless nostril waxers. The day that they completely take over we will be invaded by Grenada, or some third world country armed with slingshots. Life as we know it will end in America. Who is going to be afraid of a country of hairless nostril waxers, seriously? What does that say about the lazy factor of a guy who can't take a minute once a week to trim his fucking nose hair. While I find the sight of long nose hairs, looking like a chia pet growing from a mans snot box, as disturbing as the next person, I can't get passed the pussification of it all. I'm not knocking a young guy for trying to be trendy, wanting to emulate some Hollywood pretty boy, I get that part. I can even empathize with getting your pubes removed. You remove the shrubs, it makes the tree look taller. But waxing nose hair?


Forget all of the End Times predictions. Nostradamus ain't got shit on me. Twenty years down the road the United States will cease to exist as we know it. Men will more closely resemble John Waters rather than John Wayne. Our military War Rooms will no longer be manned by generals smoking cigars and drinking Bourbon, instead there will be aroma therapy and a cappuccino machine. Some tiny country that still speaks in clicks and whistles, will invade the U.S. with stones and sticks. What passes for men will flee for the safety of Canada. Upon their arrival the Canadian government will give these hairless, lilac smelling peacocks, physical exams and find that their testicles have morphed into a hybrid mix of Ovaries and scented candle orbs. It's a sad day in America. Mark it down, record it for future generations. America wasn't defeated by the Russians, or crazy Islamic extremists, no not that. America was beaten without a single shot ever being fired. The only sound was an intake of breath, the only sign, a watering of the eyes, as nose hairs were waxed from some pussys snot box.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Fast Eddie Friday......Monkey business in Alaska, monkey dolls in Costco.



All of the following subjects deserve their own post but that wouldn't be in keeping with Fast Eddie Friday now would it? So here we go fast and loose, a little long.....and slightly angry.
This health care debate is making me sick. Small pockets of clearly unstable fear driven chuckle heads have turned the health care debate and town hall cluster fucks into a side show. What should be a shining moment in this country, an example of what America is all about, has been reduced to a media feeding frenzy focused on a small but loud group of assholes from both sides of the debate.
It doesn't take very many people to out shout the majority of folks who show up at these meetings. From the moron who came to a town hall meeting with a pistol strapped to his leg, to the overly dramatic hysteria laden douche nozzles who are in favor of reform , getting all angsty and over emotional. All reason and respectful debate have fled the scene. The most reprehensible actor in all of this hot mess; Sarah you betcha Palin. Now before my conservative readers, which I figure to be about half of my daily traffic get their shorts in a wad, let me make something clear. This is not an attack on conservatives, middle class whites, or the GOP. In fact, I agree with many of the opinions of the right, at least in this debate. It's Palin who I object to, and her blatant attempt to fire up the fence straddlers with inflammatory horse shit about Downs babies and Death panels. She is playing on the fear and justifiable anger of working class and poor folk. She plans to ride the wave of dissent and division to the White house. Her tactics are as transparent and stretched as thin as the skin on Pam Andersons over inflated sweater kittens.


Palin has once again paraded one of her children into the spotlight. First she props up her eldest daughter as the voice of abstinence, parades her all over Gods green earth, then gets her Eddie Bauer long johns wedged up her tight frost bitten ass over late night talk show hosts who have the audacity to crack jokes at the girls expense. Now she makes totally untrue inflammatory claims about a government run health care proposal and uses her Downs baby as a straw man. News flash, we already have death panels. People who decide who gets life saving treatment and who doesn't. This death panel is called the INSURANCE industry, an industry that routinely denies treatment to its paying customers, based on age, income, cost, and probable success rate for recovery. Hospitals also decide who to treat, what measures to take, so lets throw them in with the rest of the angels of death. Offering choices and information about end of life care, which is the part of the bill that opponents are decrying, is not tantamount to denying health care. It's about living wills and choosing to continue treatment or going to hospice. Here is an intelligent conservative view of the health care debate. Here is a totally moronic view.
Want to insure health care for folks who cant afford it? How about we quit spending billions on other countries, and use that money to take care of our own. We are the worlds biggest humanitarian and global police, yet we have children starving in this country and being shot like ducks in a carnival game. We give medical aid to millions on every continent on the globe, yet we have children who cant see the fucking black board in an inner city school because they cant get eyeglasses. I'm not saying people shouldn't voice their opinions, speak their minds, debate the issue. I'm not saying the current reform is the way to go. But it can be debated in a civil and intelligent manner. Otherwise you run the risk of what we have now. It's like a rock concert that has long hairs and rednecks. The rednecks start throwing rocks at the people with long hair, the people with long hair start throwing rocks back. everybody brings their own rocks. The whole purpose of the gathering becomes lost in the melee and nothing gets done.


Another very real danger in inciting a small minority of whack jobs, it feeds the paranoia in their already unstable minds. It is only a matter of time until some looney tune extremist, on either side of the debate, decides to set off a bomb or open fire in one of these meetings or protests. When someone like Palin spews bullshit that is clearly meant to stir the soup, it encourages crazy people to act in a crazy people kind of way. I personally don't want to see some clown open fire and shoot a bunch of uninsured people. I also don't want some crackpot to decide he is the savior of the nation and end up taking a shot at some Representative or worse yet, taking a shot at Obama. In a country that is perpetually divided by race and class, what do you think would happen if some wobble head killed the president?
I honestly don't give a rats ass if the next president is Obama, a Republican, Mr. Green Jeans. I've come to the conclusion it doesn't really matter. At the end of the day middle class whites, and every minority group in this country, will always suffer at the whim of backroom deals made in Washington. The afore mentioned groups of Americans will always be pitted one against the other, even though we share more in common than we realize. Money talks and bullshit walks. There has never in my lifetime been a leader in this country who wasn't bought and paid for by some big money special interest, and that holds true in the current administration, and will be just as true in the next. I admit to being slightly bamboozled by the Obama charm in the beginning, but I shook that shit off fairly early in his term, like a month in. I know this much, the day that Sarah Palin walks her bear skinnin, snow shoe wearin, lipstick adorned pit bull ass into the white house, is the day we are truly as fucked up as a soup sandwich. I'll migrate to Amsterdam and live out the remainder of my days smoking weed with funny names and wearing wooden shoes, or whatever passes for footwear in the land of pale people with too many consonants and not enough vowels in their names.



Sorry, my composure got away from me for a minute. Lets talk about something that surely is free of controversy, race, and irrationality. Toys, now there is a simple controversy free subject, better yet lets talk about dolls. Awwww ...... Hey there is a subject safer than double condom sex with a retired nun........Not so fast skippy. A black man in North Carolina is crying racism over an African American doll that comes with a plush monkey. The little girl doll is wearing a cap that has little monkey printed on it. You could also get the same doll in white or Hispanic, with a monkey, with the same cap. You could also get a doll that came with a panda, which I'm sure will offend some bi racial person, and it might piss off a few Chinese folks as well since they probably have some kind of registered trademark on Pandas, or an elephant, Fat people rise up!!! Granted in todays climate and given folks proclivity to find offense where none is intended, marketing an African American doll wearing a cap that reads little monkey isn't exactly a wise move, but that doesn't make it racist, and its only offensive to people who are looking to be offended, or looking to get paid. I'll wager my entire Beany Baby collection that a lawsuit is already in the works, at the very least the thin skinned douche nozzle that complained about the doll, as he was buying the fucking thing, is going to end up with a new Plasma TV and an industrial size case of Bon Bons.

So this latest cry of racism got me to wondering how long it would take me to find another offensive toy, using the same train of thought as the guy who made the initial complaint. Keep in mind this ass backwards thinking isn't confined to just a few black folks, there are white people who are just as moronic as the guy at Costco. Remember the ALkaydee doll at Walmart that supposedly said Islam is the Light? Yeah, stupidity does not discriminate. So I went to google and googled monkey doll. First hit turned up an insidious conspiracy of vile racism, and it had gang connotations as well. Snap! daily fuckin double. Loyal readers I give you Me & My Homies Super Fly Monkey. Seven plush monkeys, 4 wearing blue, three wearing red. Crips and Bloods. Actually, throw in the Me and My homies Super Fly name and these fuckers are kind of racist. That said, I find it hard to believe that a company, whose whole purpose is to sell shit, would go out of their way to put out a doll with a racist message. We still have enough real racism in this country that we don't need to manufacture it. People who go all Al Sharpton over stupid non issues like monkey dolls only do harm to an already divided nation. Making up shit like being offended over a monkey doll only lends credence to claims that all complaints of racism are nothing more than some minority playing the race card. Look, we have some backwoods, corn pone eating racists in this country. People of color, be it black, brown, whatever, still face discrimination, it really happens, and it is deplorable. But you aren't going to find David Fuckin Duke sitting packaged between tickle me Elmo and Bob the shoddy Builder in the aisle at Costco.


And finally, Kansas City Cartoon Character Mayor Funkenstein and his wife Quasimodo are back in business. The inepdt city council tried once more to keep Shrek out of city hall, and they failed. The mayor laid a veto down on their latest attempt at a volunteer ordinance. This city is being governed by the cast of Our Gang. The mayor is like Alfalfa, always screwing shit up, they mayoress is that little Darla chick who plays Alfalfa like a Stradivarius, only not so cute and much larger, and the city council are all of the extras that nobody remembers. On the bright side there will be plenty of blog fodder coming out of city hall. I'm thinking about starting a lawsuit clock. It's only a matter of time until the barefoot princess of Kansas City opens her gaping maw and gets the city sued again. As for the city council, I've never seen a less effective group of people in my life. They are like a group of monkeys trying to fuck a football.


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

Have a safe weekend, try not to buy any overtly racist plush toys, and unless you have a low deduct able insurance policy, you might want to steer clear of any town hall meetings. It's getting ugly out there.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

It's Independence Mo. and this is how we roll...Bitches.



I'm going to kick off a weekly pictorial post about my new home town, Independence Missouri. Like many folks from Kansas City proper, I have always taken the easy road and poked fun of people from Indy. Now that I'm living here in the land of Meth and Honey, I've time and again been proven wrong about your typical Independite. Now I'm not sure if Independite is actually the term you use for someone from Independence, but it's the term I use and at the end of the day that's what really matters, at least here on this blog. The meth jokes, the whiskey Tango wisecracks, all totally unfounded. People from Independence are innovative trail blazers. Think not? I suppose if your driveway in Overland Park is too small for all of your vehicles, you would park on the street, or widen the drive. Typical foolishness and about what I'd expect from one of you Lands End wearing rich types. Well here in Indy if you have too many sweet ass rides, and your rockin Smokey and the Bandit style Trans Am wont fit in that single car drive, just park that bitch in the yard.

Another Independence stereotypical myth is the ubiquitous Meth house or Meth trailer. Pure bullshit as evidenced by the rolling meth lab in a caddy , on rims, that was popped by the Indy police last night. The proof is in the car, it was a Caddy, not a Camaro. The meth problem is coming to Independence from the city, either the hood, or maybe from some JoCo suburb. No self respecting Independence meth cook would be caught dead in a caddy.



Independites are doers, they get shit done. If there is a task at hand, you can bet your ass nothing will keep it from getting done. You soft ass city dwelling types would probably let a little thing like being too sick to walk or drive, stop you from getting your drink on. Well you are a bunch of Baby Peacock Under Glass eatin softies.
While most people from K.C. or worse yet JoCo would let a little thing like their health and proper transportation get in the way of a trip to the local yuppie scum watering hole, in Indy being crippled ain't nothin but a thang. The bad ass old fella that pimps this Rascal scooter is at the bar on 23rd street by 9:30 every morning I've driven past the joint.



So I'm giving notice, there will be no tolerance for wise ass remarks about the good people of Independence Mo. Not on this blog and by Gawd not on my watch.


And now for the disclaimer: Any references to JoCo rich folks, Cake and Steak or Baby Peacock eating suburbanites do not apply to any of my regular readers who hail from west of the state line. I'd also like to go ahead and tell the 4 people in Independence who have the magic Internet on their web TV, I'm just kidding. Please don't farm my yard, molest my dogs, or write obscene shit in my lawn with gasoline or left over toxic meth lab waste. This post was a parody.

Monday, August 10, 2009

A two year old shooting victim and 40 blind mutes...


A two year old girl is shot, according to the news she was hit in the spine. If she lives, IF, she lives, she may never walk, or run, or do any of the things a growing child is supposed to be about the business of doing. Her father was wounded but not seriously. There were an estimated 40 witnesses. According to the police the father won't cooperate, and those 40 witnesses suddenly went blind and mute, nobody is cooperating. There in lies a big part of the problem. How do the police help those who need it most, when their help isn't wanted? When 40 people stand mute after a baby is shot, what can the cops do? The same tired chorus will play out , like a top 40 tune that gets air play over and over. That tune might sound okay at first, then turns to incessant noise in its repetition. Crime on the east side is due to the cops inattention, it's the medias fault, its the JoCo soccer moms fault, it's because the victim was black, nobody cares. Play it again Sam. I don't for one second believe that the majority of the people living in the areas of the city where crime is most pervasive would sit idly by and refuse to cooperate with the police. But that is the perception when 40 people and the father of the victim clam up.


While we all share some culpability by virtue of living on this blue marble, the last time I checked nobody was driving through Waldo in a mini van, indiscriminately spraying people with a super soaker loaded with non fat no whip latte. Mostly young black men and boys are committing the majority of violent crime in this city. There's no getting around that fact. On a bad day they kill one another, on an especially bad day they kill someone unlucky enough to get between the shooter and the intended target. When the cops show up, nobody knows anything, nobody saw anything. Same old song and dance.


In a recent post TKC compared the Stop Snitching rhetoric of todays gangsta with Omerta, the code of silence practiced by Italian gangsters of days gone by. It was an accurate comparison. The similarity doesn't stop there. Todays thug parrots what they see on the big and small screen. Goodfellas, the Sopranos, Scarface, The Godfather. The drive by wasn't invented by some kid in a caprice sitting on ridiculously tall rims, it was invented by some mobbed up guy in a Model A. Stop Snitching isn't the brainchild of some thug from the hood, it's an abandoned code from another time , a different thug. The irony that is lost on these Johnny come latelys, the very people they strive to emulate would hold them in contempt based purely upon the color of their skin.


The murder rate which is on pace for another record setting year, the shootings that occur with such frequency they no longer hold shock value. Complex problems devoid of easy answers. One thing is certain, the problem isn't going to get any better when 40 people are willing to clam up in order to preserve some moronic code they cant even claim as their own. The problem won't get any better for the vast majority of decent folks in the most crime ridden areas, by laying the blame at the feet of everything and everyone except their own. As long as people are willing to turn a blind eye to the predators who prowl their streets, things will only get worse. You can blame the cops and the media until you are blue in the face, but that won't fix what ails the most crime ridden areas of this city. That's a fact, and it ain't racism, it's realism.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Fast Eddie Friday...........Lighten up already.


Not for nothin, but it's been a gloomy week on this blog. Humor caught a Greyhound bus and like Elvis it left the building. Then again considering the subject matter, cracking jokes and making wise ass remarks probably would have been more than a little tacky. So consider this edition of Fast Eddie Friday, M M lite. Here we go, fast and loose.


The health care debate is growing heated. Folks are so passionate about the subject they are prepared to beat the cowboy shit out of each other to prove it. At a town meeting in Tampa people were pushing, shoving, and generally making total spectacles of themselves. Some highlights :

Members of crowd shout "tyranny" during discussion of proposed health care reform.


At times outside the meeting, people tried to drown out pro-Obama chants of "Yes we can" with chants of "Just say no.


Punches were thrown, brief skirmishes ensued, and one guy reportedly was hit so hard it knocked the taste out of his mouth. Okay, I made up that last part. As best I can tell people who are lucky enough to have health insurance, are against reform, while those who don't have it are all for it. I'm on the fence. On the one hand I think everyone should be able to afford to get sick, especially the very young and the very old. Then i start thinking about the government running health care. I go to the Veterans Administration hospital, so I have access to health care. Of course I only go if I'm about to drop dead. Broken bones, ebola virus, bleeding from my pores, and any type of goiter or growth protruding from the side of my head like a parasitic twin, will merit a visit to the VA. Short of those symptoms, I take my chances and stay home. One VA hospital recently infected a bunch of Vets with Hepatitis C and HIV. It wasn't an experiment or some kind of case study. They infected these people while doing colonoscopy. We are all accustomed to the gubmint sticking it up our ass, but when it gives you a deadly virus in the process, that's a whole different deal. If they can't get it right at the VA, what does that say about a proposal to take over health care for the entire nation?


Note to self: Pick your nickname wisely. Let's say you get in a gun battle outside of a hip hop club. Now let's assume someone gets killed, and you are charged to stand trial in that murder case. Prosecutors are notorious for dredging up unflattering info about defendants. Your past crimes, associations, trivial shit like that. Even something as innocent as a nick name can get thrown in your face, or as they say in street vernacular "All up in yo grill". There are some nicknames that might help sway a jury in the defendants favor. Snuggie Bear, Little Richard, Erkle, and any nickname that includes the word Baby in it. What you don't want for a nickname ,the initials OJ, or anything that contains the word Killer, Killa, or Murder. So it doesn't bode well for a New Orleans rapper currently standing trial for second degree murder. His rap name, C Murder. The guy already has a conviction on an unrelated case for attempted murder that happened shortly before he allegedly gunned down a 16 year old fan, which is why he is currently on trial. Look, you don't want to find yourself standing tall before the bench about to be sentenced on a murder beef with a fucked up nickname. If the judge's opening line is "Mr. Murder a jury has found you guilty of second degree murder....." You are as fucked up as a soup sandwich. Be prepared to get more time than you could ever possibly do. C Murder should have gone with something like Lil Baby Sugar Bear, then again that might not be the name to carry to the joint.


So a blogger walks into a vegan restaurant known for its raw, vegan “cheesecake” and vegan “milkshakes” during a gay pride festival and goes apeshit over a tips jar that says "Palin Retirement Fund," ....Sounds like the opening line of a joke, huh? You know the ones, "a man walks into a bar with a pig under his arm......." Anyway this blogger apparently got all in a huff and started grilling the manager about making fun of Palin by using this slogan on a tip jar. In a long rambling post, the blogger compares it to making fun of children who are burn victims or have some debilitating disease. The offended right wing blogger is apparently kicking it up a notch.......like Emiril......BAM!!!!!, and going after the restaurants business license. If you can stand to suffer through the entire post you will find the now tired tag line "liberals are terrified of Palin". It was clearly meant in a humorous vein, it's not like the jar said Sarah Palins illegit grand baby college fund, or something equally tasteless. Palin supporters need to lighten the fuck up already, and before you equally ardent Obama fans start nodding your heads in agreement, the same goes for you. This country has a long standing tradition of making fun of it's political figures. It's what we do. Palin isn't exempt from it, nor is Obama, Pelosi, or Barney Frank. Palin ain't Mother Theresa and Obama didn't just float down from the heavens on a fiery chariot. These people put their pants and snow shoes on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. And really, who didn't appreciate a good Dick Cheney joke?


That's it for this week. Stay safe, have a good weekend, and stay clear of the raw cheese cake.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Putting Ed to bed........

I'm sure everyone else is as tired of hearing about this thing as I am talking about it, so I'm going to wrap it up, answer some critics, fill in some blanks, and then leave it alone. There has been some speculation about my motives along with accusations made by the usual cast of characters, some anonymous, some not. Why did I single out Ed? Why bother him, leave him alone, he's harmless. I just did all of this to draw attention to my blog. I ripped off some local crime fighters methods. I'm just a bad guy, a crook who turned in another crook. The list goes on. In the meantime I've got two email accounts that are catching hell. My email accounts are being bombarded with everything from work at home promises, to barnyard porn. One guy says he wants to chop my head off. No surprises or worries there, it's about what I expected. I can open new email accounts, maybe start wearing a Kevlar turtleneck.

My motives: Payback. Plain and simple. I wrote about my experience with a pedophile here and here. Read it if you haven't already. If you still have any questions after reading it, send them to the bible answer man or Dear Abby, I really could give a shit, either way. Forty three years ago, a seemingly kind, supposedly devout man robbed a 7 year old boy of his innocence, his childhood. I'm 50 now, I can still describe the interior of that old guys house, the photos of trains on the walls, the large train bell in the corner of the living room, a huge model train set in the basement. I can describe the smells, the lighting, the worn carpet, and a whole lot of shit you don't want a description of. I've never taken the easy out on this thing. I don't blame him for the path I took in life, the 3 failed marriages, the rocky relationships with family, the dysfunctional life I pissed away a good chunk of. That shit is all on me, choices I made. That said if you don't think the incident helped mold me, influenced some of the choices I've made, then you are mistaken. Five years after the incident, all of 12 or 13, I wrapped a rope around a clothesline pole and my neck, then took a leap. My stepmother got to me before it was too late. Was it a cry for help or an aborted suicide attempt? To this day I can't say. What I can say is that it was directly related to that earlier molestation. If you think Ed's victims don't carry scars to this day, then you are an idiot. Notice I said victims, you'll never convince me that he got caught the first and only time he decided to abuse a kid.

I was talking to an Aunt the other night, the Fox 4 piece had aired earlier. She wasn't sure what was going on, wasn't even sure it was me on the TV. She had only caught a part of the story, and was concerned that I had wound up in trouble. After I assured her that I wasn't the one under investigation she told me that Marshal had died, that was his name, I hate even typing it. She said his house was up for sale. Her reasoning in telling me was her way of saying that chapter was closed, the final page written the day he slipped this mortal coil. The truth is, the final page can never been penned, there is no finality or end. Those memories are as vivid as they have ever been. It's always there, even when I think it's not. So make no mistake, I didn't put Ed Muscare under the spotlight out of a sense of nobility, or as some would be victims advocate, or some wanna be citizen crime fighter. It was payback, pure and simple. That doesn't mean it wasn't a good call, it was. I just don't want to dress it up and make it out to be the beginning of some lifes work. I'm not Simon Wiesenthal, I won't be chasing down child molesters like they are nazis hiding in Central America. I'm not out to steal the limelight from any crime fighters or activists, contrary to what they think. I was just getting some payback for a kid who caught a bad break back in 1967. Now I'm done with it.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

News from across the nation....and the obligatory wise cracks.


You have to hand it to Slick Willy Clinton, he is a closer. He jumps on a plane, jets to North Korea, a day later he is flying back with the two recently imprisoned journalists . Of course there are critics of Clintons mission to free the two American women, go figure. Because North Korea desperately wants recognition from the United States, critics argue that the meeting was a big win for the dictator. Damned if you do , damned if you don't, I guess. Is it just me or does Kim Jong have a dazed look on his face in the photo above. He shouldn't feel alone, it's not the first time someone left a "meeting" with Bill looking dazed, confused,abused and feeling a little dirty. Kim probably won't walk right for a week. Hopefully the two journalists had a chaperon on the flight back, or light colored machine washable clothing.

Warren (I love a girl in prairie gear) Jeffs has been busy starving himself to death. The leader of the Utah-based Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is awaiting trial on charges related to alleged underage marriages involving sect girls. The amazing thing about Jeffs is how many followers he has. 12,000 and growing. Personally I think the guy just needs a little lead in his diet.


Count James P. Riva has been denied parole. In 1980 Riva stabbed his paternal grandmother in the heart, shot her in the chest with gold-painted bullets, and set her body on fire. His defense at the time was insanity and a belief that his grandmother was a vampire. The parole board turned him down citing a lack of remorse, as if stabbing, shooting and burning your grandma wasn't enough justification for denial. The guy has as much chance of ever seeing parole as I do of winning a Pulitzer.


Since the Uncle Ed story broke I've had some shots fired across my bow. Nothing I didn't expect and so far I haven't found a pet bunny mysteriously boiling atop my stove, but one can always hope. With minuscule fame comes minuscule critics. I feel like I did the right thing, which is something I can't always lay claim to. Was there some unabashed self promotion involved? Absolutely. For once I'm going to take the high road and leave it at that.

That's all I've got for today. I'm working on some stuff and hopefully it will see fruition Monday. See ya tomorrow.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Fox 4 Story........Proof I'm better suited for writing.

Look for me tonight at 6 on WDAF Fox 4........

Tess Koppelman of WDAF Fox 4 just left my house. She is running a story on my Uncle Ed Muscare / edarem posts and his link to Kansas City. Hopefully I won't come off looking like a deer caught in the headlights and sounding like an extra from Hee Haw. It was a disconcerting experience, as I was always accustomed to hiding my head under an orange jumpsuit whenever a news crew was around. Times change. I contacted Tess because I thought there was a story in the edarem you tube explosion, and the underlying risk of a convicted and self admitted sex offender coming into contact with under age viewers. To be honest, my thought was that she would just run with it and give me some credit. I definitely wasn't looking to be in front of a camera. I had my a/c set on 65 because I was sweating like David Duke at an NAACP convention. So check it out tonight at 6 from the live stream if you aren't local.

Digging up bones............


Dominik A. Bailey Jr., 43, has been charged with felony removal of human remains after allegedly digging up the cremated remains of his father from a Vershire Vermont graveyard. Pretty gruesome at first glance, hell 4th or 5th glance for that matter. Then I read down through the story, and I think it may well be the saddest thing I've heard in awhile. Two things make it especially sad, here's the first; Bailey had been telling family members for some time that he missed his father, he wanted to bring him home.......let that sink in for a second. He told them he was thinking about digging up his fathers ashes. You can argue that Bailey is mentally ill, and I'd have to agree with you, but I think there is more to it than just being crazy. This guys love for another person was so strong, he couldn't bear to be separated from that person, or what was left of him. There are people I love, family, my girlfriend, but I don't suspect my grief would be so profound as Mr. Bailey's. In a roundabout way I envy him that, at the very least I'm in awe of it even though I can't fully comprehend it. It's a beautiful thing in all its disturbing, saddened glory.


The second thing that makes this such a heart wrenching tale is that Bailey has been charged, with a felony no less. His people stood by and allowed this man to get swallowed up by his grief , ignored his wishes, watched him descend into madness, and did nothing to assuage his pain. According to court papers, Bailey phoned his aunt in Connecticut admitting he took the remains home. The aunt said Bailey had talked about taking his father's remains home for months, but said she did not believe he would actually do it. The aunt also told police Bailey has made several threats to shoot relatives.
The aunt said Bailey left a message on her answering machine Friday saying that he was "going to get his father" and that the family "didn't need to leave flowers there anymore". The aunt also told police Bailey phoned her again later in the day and spoke with her, saying "he's here with me now" and that his father's remains were in his living room, along with the father's headstone.


His people can't claim ignorance, they can't say they never saw it coming. In reading between the lines and operating on assumptions that come more from the gut and sentiment, than anything stated in the article, I believe Mr. Bailey wanted to keep his fathers ashes, and his wishes were either denied or ignored. Maybe his obsession was a delayed reaction, if Bailey descended into madness after the urn and ashes were buried, it's not like he didn't give ample warning about his intentions to bring Dad home. Either way his people turned their backs and a deaf ear. Maybe there is a yet unwritten, if not happy at least better ending to this story. Hopefully the judge and prosecutor in this case will see past the law, look beyond the promise of yet another felony conviction, and see the human side of this story. One can hope the judge will get Mr. Bailey some much needed help rather than just locking him up, adding insult to injury. Perhaps his family will look past their own grievances and allow Mr. Bailey to keep the urn, or part of the ashes. It seems, at least in my own mind, Dominik A. Bailey Jr. has suffered enough, with no end or relief in site.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Strange Bunkfellows.....Because there are no beds in prison...


If we are to believe Phil Spector, Charlie Manson sent him a kite in hopes of meeting the woman killing, and now wigless music mogul. The news, I first saw it on Crime Scene Kansas City, is calling it a note, but there are no notes in prison. When you send a written message in the joint, it's called a kite. According to Rachelle Spector the kite was delivered via a guard at California's Corcoran State Prison. I'm guessing Phil is doing his time in a yellow jumpsuit, or whatever special color is reserved for protective custody inmates in California's prison system. Phil is starting out on the wrong foot already. Spector has not only shit in his nest with the guards, he has shown a propensity as a stool pigeon, which wont bode well should he ever be placed in general population. Someone should send him a print of my Prison for dummies series. The only thing standing between Spector and hundreds of suitors, who would love to have Phil Spector hand washing their socks and draws (underwear), in a stainless steel toilet, is the guards.


Phil probably isn't aware of his major faux pas. He is just another rich guy who finally got himself in a pinch that his money couldn't extricate him from. I'm not sure if Spector hired a prison consultant prior to being sent to the joint, but he should have. It's not enough to check into protective custody in order to stay safe in the joint. The weak, infirm, celebrities, and high profile new arrivals in the nations prisons have targets on their backs. With more Wall Street swindlers and big biz folks being sent to the can, prison consultants are becoming a way for the green recently convicted inmate to make a smoother transition from the world to their new home, Prison. But how much of the prison consulting business is hype? Quite a bit as it turns out.


More than a few Prison Consultation websites make some promises they can't keep. They claim to be able to help you get placed in a particular prison, particularly in the Federal System. Bullshit, pure, plain, and simple. You can request a particular location, the judge can recommend, but at the end of the day, the Bureau of Prisons will send you where they see fit. These consultants also sell dreams of sentence departure, special programs like drug treatment and work release. The truth is if you qualify for any of these things the judge might recommend them, or the person who does your pre sentence investigation will recommend any special programs. That's not to say that there isn't a niche for prison consultation. Depending on the crime, sentence, and the new convict, solid advice and schooling can help you avoid some major pitfalls, and in some cases keep you from playing the role of victim in the reenactment of the rape scene in American History X. Edward Norton is a cool guy and all, but nobody wants to play him in the joint. If you never saw American History X, go rent it, it's probably one of the top 5 prison movies ever made, and it's a factual account of what can happen if you fall out of favor in the joint.


The Prison Consultation field is really taking off, and I'm in the process of trying to elbow my way in as we speak, more on that in the not too distant future. Here are a few of the bigger fish in the prison consultation field.










Most of these sites seem to focus on pre sentence stuff, or they sell their product playing on the fear of the person about to head off to the joint. The truth is your lawyer and the pre sentence people are going to do more to help or hurt you than these people as far as your sentence goes. As for what to expect, how to act, and most importantly, What Not to Do, thats the type of advice that can really be a matter of life and death, or help to prevent you from becoming one of the Wildebeests at the watering hole. Anyone who watches the National Geographic channel knows what happens to the Wildebeest at the watering hole, it rarely ends good for the Wildebeest.


In a perfect world over privileged douche bags like Spector would end up being passed around like the collection plate at a Southern Baptist Tent Revival. But this ain't a perfect world. The truth is Spector will probably serve his time in Protective Custody, short of running into some crazy guy who slipped through the cracks, boredom will be Spectors biggest nemesis. Still it's kind of fun to envision Spector looking like the crypt keeper spooning with Charlie Manson.