Is that a crotch rocket, or are ya just glad to see me?

Unless you have been living in a cave, ( no Bin Laden), then I'm sure you have heard of the growing protests over Body scanners and frisking in the nations airports. Some clown has become an innerwebs sensation for telling a security dude to not touch his junk, or else he will have him arrested. Now there is National Opt Out Day.  Some douche nozzle is urging air travelers not to go through new, high-tech body scanners the day before Thanksgiving, which means they'll have to undergo pat downs if they want to board. Which in turn will pretty much grind shit to a halt at the airports that have the scanners. Of course these "Patriots and defenders of Liberty" will be just as offended by the body search. Now I realize I'm probably in the minority here, most folks probably don't like the idea of giving an X-ray peep show to some stranger, and the pat down is none to popular either.  Speaking as someone who was routinely frisked and strip searched on a daily basis for 5 years, I have to say it isn't that big of a deal. Granted being in the Gray Bar Motel isn't the same as some square world citizen  paying hundreds of dollars for an airline ticket, but stick with me for a minute and I think you might see my point.

In prison there are 2 types of body searches.
The pat down.
The typical pat down consists of holding your arms out like you are being crucified. The hack usually starts at each leg, runs his or her hands up each leg, feels your pockets, continuing up each side of your torso, across your chest, and usually down the center of your back. I was probably subjected to 3500 or 4,000 pat downs in 5 years.

The Strip Search.
You get buck ass naked. If you have hair on your head, I didn't, you run your fingers through your hair, open your mouth, show under your tongue. The hack is standing a few feet away as you do this. Then he tells you to lift em. The "em" being your package, your junk, your meat whistle, bait n tackle, what ever you want to call it. Then you turn, lift your feet, preferably one at a time. Then you spread em, the "em" in this case being the cheeks of your ass, then you squat and cough, being careful not to squat too far lest your balls touch the cold concrete prison floor. I went through hundreds of those as well.

In extreme cases the prison staff might decide to do a cavity search, except there isn't any dentist involved.  In all my years inside I never heard of anyone being given a cavity search. If the guards thought you had something stuffed in the safe (your ass) they would just lock you in a dry cell for a couple of days and let nature take its course.

I know, I know, What the fuck does some dirt bag like me being in prison have to do with a free world citizen being subjected to  an intrusive search? Plenty, so shut your cake hole for a minute and I'll splain where I'm heading.
In prison there is a small minority of cons who are more than a little crazy. If given free reign they would be running around with 2 foot long plexiglass shanks stabbing the shit out of anyone that looked cross eyed at them. As unpleasant and intrusive as strip searches and to a lesser degree pat downs are, being stabbed everywhere but the soles of your feet by some wobble head, is far more unpleasant. It's a necessary evil in a place where there are people who would just as soon kill you as look at you. While I call Prison Guards hacks, let me just say it's not out of disrespect, it's just what I've always called them. At the end of the day, if they had just stayed inside a bubble and pushed buttons, leaving the cons to our own devices it would have been a killing field inside. As with any position of authority there were cool hacks, and douche hacks, likewise with the prison population. Same as the free world.

Still with me? We live in a world where religious zealots will strap bombs to their feet, their crotch, and even up their ass. We are one of, if not the most hated country in the world. So how are the square world hacks, in this case the TSA, the Gubmint, supposed to protect us from the crazies in this world who will gladly pack their crack with explosives, or make a jock strap out of C4? You can't start targeting everyone with olive skin and funny last names. That shit won't fly in this politically correct world, and to be fair, most middle eastern types aren't out to blow us up anyway. So the necessary evil is to check everyone. If these measures weren't taken, the first time some whack job jihads an Airbus full of travelers, the same people who are bitching about Gubmint intrusion, would be up in arms because the Gubmint didn't do enough.

You might recall that I got banned from a certain airline just for cussing out some clueless Travelocity dude in India over the phone, while standing too close to the ticket counter at MCI. In hindsight, I've got to admit  it was a bone headed move on my part and I got what I had coming. It's becoming increasingly popular in this country to spout shit like "Take back our country", "don't tread on me", people toss around words like Patriot, and imply that anyone who has opposing views is somehow less of an American than  some chuckle head waving a sign and screaming along with a bunch of other nimrods holding signs. This TSA protest thing is just an extension of that same paranoid the gubmint is out to strip us of our rights and turn us all in to a bunch of Mao quoting lemmings in drab PJ's and cereal bowl haircuts. I'll be the first to admit that our country is run by a bunch of self serving ass hats, regardless of their political party. I don't trust a single politician, they are all as crooked as a barrel of snakes. That said, I don't buy into the conspiracy theory Illuminati tin foil hat rhetoric that is growing in popularity. Sometimes you just have to take one for the team. Until the mad scientists at area 51 devise a terrorist detector from secret technology derived from the aliens they keep locked up in hyperbaric chambers, everyone is just going to have to bite the bullet, walk through the machine, let some stranger feel your leg, or take a fuckin train.    

The Beard and The Yellow Dog................

I call him The Beard. He posts up every day. A small white guy. Beard that runs clear up to his cheek bones, to just under his eyes. Hair the same length as the beard, coarse, thick, a couple inches in length. A hairline that most men would have envied in their 20's. The overall effect, the end result, is like a reverse mask. All you get is a 3 or 4 inch strip running horizontally across his face. A pair of eyes peering out from a carpet of dirty dark hair. I see him late in the morning, early afternoon, on my way to pick up my route for the night. He spends his time at the base of the North 435 and  Front street off ramp. It's impossible to tell his age. Maybe 30, 40, could even be my age, 50's?  Normally he would be just another guy with a sign begging for money. There is no shortage of seemingly able bodied men standing on various street corners, holding a beat up cardboard sign. The messages rarely if ever phase me. I normally have a " Too lazy to work, Too scared to steal" opinion of these guys. Disdain, scorn, isn't really what comes to mind, doesn't really describe my attitude for the many homeless beggars throughout the metro. I'd say it's indifference. You can afford to be indifferent when you are on the outside looking in. Sitting in the climate controlled interior of your car, shit seems to be black and white like that. Fuck em, it aint my problem.

The last couple of weeks this guy has peeled about 30 bucks from my meager bankroll. He has an ace in the hole. A trump card. A yellow dog, a Chow mix.  He keeps him on a leash fashioned from what looks like clothesline rope. The dog is plump, well fed, seemingly cleaner than his owner. On sunny or rainy days an old floral patterned umbrella serves as shade or shelter for the dog, while his owner stands or sits in the open. Opposing corners at the same intersection are the chosen spots for a 50 or 60 something man and woman couple, on another is a 20 something guy holding a homeless vet sign. A few times a week an older man  in a wheelchair with his legs or at least one leg amputated at the knee. I've honestly never looked long or close enough to recall if it's one leg or two. The signs all say pretty much the same thing. WILL WORK FOR FOOD, but not really. The signs always end in a God Bless, even though I have my doubts that a God is doling out very many blessings to any of these people.  That kind of shit never has had much weight with me.  But throw in a dog, and I'll usually break weak, drag a few bucks out of my tired pocket.

So I was driving along the other night kind of chewing on the why's and wherefores of it all. How is it a yellow dog trumps a homeless vet or a guy missing a leg, maybe two?  I'm thinking I must be one of those people who care more about dogs than people.   Another 100 miles or so of pondering and I think I figured it out. I think it all comes down to being able to identify, find some common  ground. This guy with the dog, I can identify with him on at least some level. I figure that dog helps keep the guys powder dry. What I mean to say, the dog keeps the guy in line. I don't know if he has a drinking problem, but it's a pretty safe bet he does. Drinking problem or not, he can't get too out of control lest he end up in jail, and would be separated , probably forever from the yellow dog. That dog is all this guy has. If he steps off the edge, loses his grip, the dog ends up without him, or vice versa , both.  I figure the dog is what keeps this guy alive. So the next time I see them standing in their little gravel and glass shard paved spot I pass a bag of Pedigree out the window along with a fin for the guy. Funny thing, the dog food cost more than the 5 spot I gave the guy.

Don't get me twisted, this isn't a self aggrandizing masturbatory piece where I sit here stinking up the room with my self congratulatory farts all because I gave some hobo a couple hours pay over the course of a month. There are countless equally and more deserving that I won't ever give a second glance. This isn't a lesson in helping your fellow man, or giving a hand up to the weak and down trodden.  I'm thinking out loud, with an audience.

I actually started this post a couple weeks ago.  I got in a pattern of starting to write something, then part way through I'd hit a wall or lose interest.  So I'm picking up where I left off. This past week has come and gone without the beard and his yellow dog posting up at their spot. I can't help but wonder where they have gone, what's become of them. The corner is now occupied by a steady stream of men and a couple of women, ragged cardboard signs, picking up where the previous needy types left off. Maybe the Beard got smart, headed out west or down south, a warmer climate. Maybe he lost his grip and ended up in a jail. I've had a coat and a bag of dog food in my back seat for a week now.  I want to get this guys story. Not necessarily to write about, just to satisfy my own curiosity.  I've often wondered how someone comes to that place in life. You drop all pretense of pride, set yourself up to be alternately looked upon with disdain or ignored all together. A popular point of view is that these people like living like this. Hell I've been of that opinion myself. Winter is coming on, Kansas City winters can be harsh. It's hard to swallow that anyone would enjoy living in the streets this time of year.  So I'm going to give this story a temporary ending. The Beard and the Yellow Dog are basking in the Florida sunshine. Living the life.  If he ever shows back up on that corner, Ill be sure and ask. Until then, I like my ending, it's probably a lot nicer than the reality.

**The photo at the top of the post isn't The Beard, but it's pretty close to how he and the Yellow Dog look.**

Fast Eddie Friday.......Of Mice, Men, and Mushrooms.

Let me just say this; I'm a live and let live kind of guy. I have never been one of those folks who feel it is incumbent upon them to pass judgment on anyone's sexual proclivities. If it's between one or more consenting adults, and as long as no children or animals are harmed, I say whatever floats your boat, trips your trigger, or keeps your powder dry, is your business. I don't care if you  spent the evening trying to retrieve a G.I. Joe from your  partners ass, via one of those acrylic hamster tubes, during a game of Chilean Miner Rescue gone wrong.   People do some strange shit. Add hallucinogens to the mix and and an already freaky disposition can go completely off the charts. That said, if you decide to abuse an innocent animal then I'm gonna be on you  like stink on a pig. Hence the post about this scumbag pictured below....................................

 Meet Noah ( I stuffed a mouse up my ass) Smith.  Now it's bad enough that this clown decided to use his colon as a habitrail, shit gets deeper. Mr Mouse Trap then decided to up the ante. He breaks in to a house, naked, gets in a fight with the police who show up to arrest him, and to make matters worse, he gets pepper sprayed and tazed. One of the arresting officers notices our boy has something hanging out of his rectal-assall area.

Wait a minute..........

It appears the mouse in question wasn't an actual living cheese eating type of mouse.  It was a computer mouse. Well hell that's a huge relief. I'm glad no actual animals were harmed. Still you have got to wonder, what would posses someone to burgal a house, buck naked, with a computer mouse wedged up his hot pocket?  The answer is simple. MUSHROOMS.  Now I've tried shrooms back in the day. When I was younger, back in the mid to late 70's, I'd try just about anything that would get ya high.  A few of us ate some  peanut butter looking stuff we got from a hippy at Volker Park. I woke up at home, 3 days later. One of the other lab rats I ran with woke up in the hospital after chugging a can of  radiator stop leak that he mistook for a can of beer. Not sure what that hippy sold us, but we went back a few days later and beat a refund out of him.  So I'm no stranger to drug experimentation. I ate mushrooms a few times. They made me throw up, fucked up my vision, and tasted like sunflower seed shells dipped in hog shit. I dont eat pork, so I'm just guessing what hog shit tastes like.  Anywho, at the end of the day I decided mushrooms were not for me. I never felt compelled to burgal anything while under the influence, and I didn't have an irresistable urge to plug my balloon knot with a keyboard from a commador computer. I don't think they had mouses/mice back then.

In keeping with the original theme of this post.....Have you seen those dog toys where you stuff a treat inside a cavity in the toy and the dog goes crazy trying to get it out of the rubber ball/bone thing?  Michelle Owen took that shit to a whole new level. This nut job was already in the pokey for some kind of drinking related charge. She decides to turn over her laptop to the cops claiming her ex had been surfing child porn. The detectives get the laptop, low and behold they find two, count em, 2 videos of Michelle having marital relations of the oral variety with her beloved Beagle, Buster.  You can read the details on the Smoking gun if you want, but I'd advise against it. The police report describes this woman smearing something on her no no square and then letting Buster have at it. They don't say what the substance was but it clearly wasn't a kibble that Buster cared for. The money quote from the detective, " The dog appeared to lose interest and walked off".  I hope Miss Owen gets that thing checked out while she is in jail.  There are few things a dog won't wallow around in, and if your holiest of holies  is so repugnant that you have to mask it with bacon grease or whatever she used, and the dog still doesn't want any part of it, then you have a major issue going on down there . I hope Buster finds a good home, preferably one where the humans aren't as fucked up as soup sandwiches.

And finally. It looks like my late nights working are about to grind to a halt. You can look for a little more regularity in regards to posting around here.  I'm going to make one final attempt to get my writing mojo back on track. I've already got a few posts in the can ( no Seacrest), so look for those starting Monday. I know at least a couple hundred of you clowns have been faithfully checking in on a daily basis to see if  I have anything new posted, so thanks for hanging in there.