Seriously what is that? and,... you are gonna eat that?

So I am currently on the street covering for an officer while he takes some time off. That's right I am rocking the night shifts. I love them.... its when the crazies come out... and not just the crazy people we end up dealing with......I mean some of the fellow cops in my area. I forgot what Night shifts can do to your psychological fitness.

Take for instance the County Deputy who shall remain nameless for now. No. I will name him. We will name him Deputy Jailskettie. Yes. I know his name is a Siamese twin combination of Jail and spaghetti with the white trash pronunciation of spaghetti with a "K"... not a "G" and dropping the "H".

Deputy Jailsketti and I had just returned from a riveting call that involved trucks and smaller cars and unlawful entries and peace being disturbed, you know the usual. while sitting in the patrol room, Deputy Jailsketti informed me that he was going to get something from the jail kitchen to eat and asked if I wanted to come. Sure, I thought how bad could jail food be. I figured I would pick out a little personal pizza or maybe one of those sweet artificial bean and cheese burritos I see the inmates munching away on all the time.

well as luck would have it, I happened to be allergic to all of those things, and could not partake. Deputy Jailsketti had his eye on a bread loaf pan full of what I thought was fish bait,or autopsy souvenirs. He told me that it was spaghetti. What ever. It wasn't packaged and that means it was made by the inmate workers........ no thanks.

So he heated it up. Ate it,.......... and before I knew it he turned into a a brain eating zombie munching away on one of the dispatchers shoulder sections... wait I think that may have been a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation.

Well I won't eat the jail food and that meant I was going to have to get something from the only place open at 2:00 a.m. Maverick. I chose a large burrito monstrosity called "the bomb".

We will see how that choice turns out tomorrow.

Best part of night shifts?..........fun calls.

Worst part?................................nutritional options.

All I wanted was a G - damn lime rickey.

So me and the family were out on a nice leisurely drive and decided to drop by the local fast food joint and get the kids some ice cream. Well because I am a fat American, I though that my kids should not be the only ones partaking in the wonder that is Artic circle. I ordered my self a lime rickey.

Right when I took the first swig I was inundated with a flood of fond memories from one of my most favorite daytime DUI arrests.

There I was, minding my own business in my patrol vehicle, taking it easy. I had to report to the office in a few minutes to pick up a Reserve Officer for a ride along, so really I was not trying to attract anything to myself. But, as lady luck and her twisted sense of karma would have it, I none the less was almost T-boned while traveling through an intersection. I of course turned and stopped the vehicle in the parking lot of one of our potato processing plants. I contacted the driver and could immediately tell that she was intoxicated. I followed all of the usual procedure and had her exit the vehicle, do the SFST'S, blaa, blaa, blaa. I informed her that she was under arrest and she decide that she was not going to have that happen to her. Luckily I was able to contain and arrest her without any incident.

This is where it turns a little memorable. I have heard most every excuse and rationalization for committing a crime. DUI's come with their own unique set of them. "I only drank one or two.". "I was driving the rest home because I was the MOST sober.". One of the best was the guy who was just plain honest and told me he was an alcoholic and that he couldn't drive unless he was drunk. But what came out of this ladies mouth was priceless. This is a little snippet from the conversation I had with her.

Me- "Where were you heading to this morning?"
Susp.-"To get a G-- damn lime Ricky. You C--- Sucker."
Me- "Well I underst...."
Susp.- "A lime rickey! thats all I wanted! A G-- damn lime rickey! AHHHHRGG!!"

( of course she was in hand cuffs already by this time, and like alot of suspects she got real "tuff" once she was in the car )

Susp.- " You arrested me because I wanted a lime rickey?! I can;t beleive this s---!"
Me- "No miss, I arrested you because I believe you are intoxicated and I witnessed you driving your car."
Susp.- "G-- damn LIME RICKEY'S! They always F--- me over!"
Me- (laughing almost uncontrollably) "What did you say?"
Susp.- "You heard me, lime rickey's are responsible for this.. last time you arrested me for DUI I was going home from getting a lime rickey."

Then it hit me. I did not recognize her at first but I had arrested her for DUI before about a year or so before this. It was at about the same time in the morning, and she had almost T- boned me in an intersection that time as well. best part,... On the search incident to arrest I do remember finding a fresh lime ricky in the cup holder..

What are the odds?

"it wasn't me. It was the one armed man."

Over the past summer months, the fair city which I live and work in had been plagued by a rash of burglaries. Now this rash was not the kind that just shows up once in a while when your skin gets a little dry, and you are able to clear it up with some cortisone cream and a hot compress. No, this was the kind of rash you get after a night of bad decisions made while getting highly intoxicated and going home with someone that you picked up in a skeezy bar in Vegas. That's right, what happens in Vegas does not stay there, it hitches a ride back home with you and flares up during a leg workout in the gym, requiring medical intervention, penicillin and various voodoo spells to get rid of.
This was the kind of rash the burglaries resembled. They were done quickly, efficiently, and rather smartly. Really we had no evidence on most of them other than a few foot prints and some tool marks. Only allot of missing cash and property.
Then the call came early one morning, that the Junior High had been broken into and I was being requested to assisted with the investigation. This scene was a little different compared to the others. It was rather sloppily done and luckily for, us the burglar was caught on the video surveillance.
We got him. We all knew who it was because, well, he only has one full arm. The other is shorter caused by what appears to be a birth defect. We had all seen him around the neighborhood a number of times and the sergeant had gotten a statement from him a week earlier during another incident.
Long story short. Got a search warrant for his residence for him and the stolen property. All of those things were located during the search. He was arrested without incident. during the interrogation he admitted to all of the other burglaries that had been committed during the rash.
He eventually would plead guilty and has since been sentenced. I feel bad for him in a way. He was very cooperative, he knew he was caught. I really do believe he is a good kid who just made some really bad decisions. Hopefully he will serve his sentence and make better choices in the future.

Fortunately I can not include pictures

In the course of our duties as law enforcement officers we have the chance to run across many different types of scenes and situations. Some of them are just plain funny and other make you dead on the inside. Sometimes you have an experience that builds your faith in humanity and other times you wonder if god is watching, or if he even cares. sometimes you are amazed at the amazing stupidity that other display and then there are the times where bad things just happen. No rhyme or reason. No pattern that they fit into. They just happen. They are just accidents.
For me, these are some of the hardest to deal with. I can fathom how somebody may get angry enough to batter a person or worse, or even hurt themselves. We all have those tendencies in ourselves and at times we can loose control or otherwise fall to those tendencies.
Accidents happen to everyone. They are dictated by fate, karma, or the man upstairs, whatever you happen to believe controls the universe. This bothers me. I don't like it when things just happen. I feel like I have to believe in a cause or reason in order to accept it. Accidents rarely have a true reason why they happen. They just do.
Recently we had a medical call that involved an industrial cheese grater and the victims arm. The grater has a high speed barrel the turns and of course you feed the cheese into it and it shreds or grates the cheese. I am sure that you can appreciate what could happen to an arm when it is sucked into that type of machinery. Like I said fortunately for you I can not post pictures of it.
Why did this happen? Ok. Ok. I know, because she stuck her hand where it should not have been while the machine was on? Get out. That's not what I mean. Why does this have to happen to this person? That's what I mean. Sometimes I just don't get it.

In response to the comments about my beard

Listen folks I understand that at times Giuseppe, can be overwhelming but believe me he has made me a better man. I am stronger, more capable, and some would say more handsome for his being on my face. Though he is parasitic and his anti social behaviors can be off putting, he like most beards was grown to hide horrible "scars" or other disabilities. He conceals a very off putting skin condition that I have been suffering from for most of my life. This condition is very rare and only inflames itself into fruition about 2-3 times in ones life time. The last time it had rashed out was in the third grade and children can be horribly mean at that age. I was named everything from "Pigman" to "Foldface".

You see Giuseppe has made me whole again and if I was to shave him now I would appear as the picture indicates. Of course the picture is a dramatization, but it is toned down in the same, because current technology can't provide an accurate portrayal of the condition.

So back off of Giuseppe he is giving me the confidence to show may face in public. Oh, and my wife actually likes him, she just plays like she doesn't.

The not so friendly mutton chops

After discussing its future, with my beard, Giuseppe (as he has asked to be called) brought up a few persuasive points that can be used to sway most people into accepting his existence.

Giuseppe informed me that though, on the outside, he has fashioned himself to resemble a late Victorian style called "Friendly mutton chops", he is in all terms and in action "not so friendly mutton chops". Giuseppe requires blood sacrifice to remain appeased and open to friendly dialogue. And the last but final point he brought to my attention was that deep down he only reacts this way to constructive criticism because he was abused as a young beard.

His handler would rarely wash and condition him and quite frequently massaged him with strange but alluring aromatic oils. Occasionally, Giuseppe was allowed get a trim, but was forced through rigorous training to grow at an unnatural pace. These conditions in Giuseppe's formative years caused him to develop, what those of us in the behavioral sciences call, anti-social tendencies exacerbated by a schizoid personality disorder.

So you see, Giuseppe is a product of his upbringing and cannot be held fully responsible for his choices no matter how egregious they may be.

Recently Giuseppe communicated a desire to engage in the blood sport of white tail deer hunting. He told me that perhaps taking the life of a cute, defenseless and tick ridden forest creature, may sustain his blood lust and keep him from committing more heinous acts. As I am but a prisoner of Giuseppe's control and relentless itching, I found myself slipping deeper and deeper into relation with Giuseppe. I found myself unable to relate to outsiders and found myself identifying with his lust for the hunt. There for, in my Stockholm Syndrome induced haze, I allowed Giuseppe to hunt for a white tail on a select piece of land not far from where me and my family have been held captive by my beard.

You can see, in the gruesome photo provided, that Giuseppe had quite the aim, and that though he may be anti social in nature, even he fears the far reaching hand of the Idaho State Fish and Game. He purchased a hunting license and deer tag, which he attached to the deer immediately upon the kill. You must understand that even Giuseppe, in the throws of the blood lust, must bow to common decency and forms of etiquette, lest he be captured and dispatched before he is able to usher in the coming of the ultimate evil that is complete congressional control by the Democrats.

Giuseppe informed me that after he was done with the deers liver, which he believes he must ingest to keep his blood from turning to powder, I could have the rest of the deer to do with as I saw fit. I thank Giuseppe for his kind mercies and the deer is now in my freezer as stew, jerky and other fine cuts of meat.

It's beardface` damn it!

Thats right October 15 has come and gone and that means it's beard season at the department. This is my fine specimen of Beardus Americanus or the American Beard, facial hair, and as it is known in some areas, the cheek hide. There is kind of an unspoken contest that erupts around this date at the Office. You know. Who can grow the manliest facial hair the quickest? I believe I am in the lead. The photos are of the beard 7 days in. looks pretty good eh?




















I have included a pensive look in this photo so that you may all bask in the intelligence that my beard exudes. As a matter of fact after only a week of growth my beard began talking in full sentences with polysyllabic words. After another week I am afraid of what my beard might do. Perhaps it will find a cure for cancer, but I think it more likely to use its power for evil, and send monetary contributions to the Obama campaign........... or maybe it will just trip an old grandma in the park.




















This is a photo of my beard accusing a passer by of bad form. When asked how the beard was fairing, my wife told me to stay away from her. Poor beard. He will probably never know a womans soft touch or bask in the deep and inviting bliss that one experiences while clutched in a lovers arms..... no, not this beard. This beard is destined for the kind of loneliness reserved for those who have gambled and lost in life's great game of love. A cold and bitter loneliness. But more bitter than cold because beards are inherently warm by their furry nature, but bitter none the less, and empty.

stay tuned for weekly beard updates............ at least until the itching drives the beards host to the brink of insanity and the beard get shaved........... which could be tomorrow.