Carolina Cogitation

Quick Note

2011-03-17T15:37:00.002-04:00

Just a quick note to let you know I'm alive :)

I've settled in here at Bagram, and am working away in the firearms lab. Seeing a lot of interesting stuff come through, especially as pertains to the age of ammunition being used.

Just the other day, we had a case come through where I actually had to go searching and look to figure out what kind of ammunition it was. It turned out to be Short Chamber Boxer-Henry .45 Caliber Rifle cartridges, originally designed for the Martini-Henry rifle. That's Martini-Henry rifle, as in the rifle the British used against the Zulus, way back when. And speaking of way back when, as far as I was able to ascertain, these particular cartridges were manufactured, sometime between 1910 and 1930. Looked like they'd been hanging around here since then too. How often do you see a commercial black powder cartridge, with paper patched lead bullets?

Fun times, and interesting to say the least. Random alerts and running to take cover in concrete bunkers also keeps things interesting as well :)

All in all though, life is pretty easy over here. I think my wife ended up with the short stick, having to go to work, and take care of the house, the kids, and the dogs too.

Anyway, I'm doing good, hope everyone is ok back Stateside.

Take care all!!

Casey

Heading Out

2011-01-28T23:31:00.002-05:00

Finally got my papers, and I fly out tomorrow night for Dubai. It's a thirteen hour flight, which leaves at 1o:30 PM tomorrow evening, however, due to time zones crossed, I will arrive in Dubai at 8:30 PM the following day. Talk about screwing up the old internal clock :) The company will then put me up in a nice hotel, for less than twelve hours, before I catch another four or five hour flight into Bagram Air Base, in Afghanistan, where I will spend the next year of my life.

Wow, sounds kind of weird when you say it like that. I'm hoping it passes quickly. I already feel a little regret at the things I will miss in the lives of my wife and daughters. However, the things I will see and experience seem very promising. In addition to the forensics work I was hired to do originally, it looks like I will be involved in training members of the Afghan National Police in aspects of Crime Scene Investigation, Firearms Examination, and basic Forensics. I've never taught before, so this should be an interesting experience. Hopefully, my passion for Forensics will make up for any shortfalls I might have as a teacher.

I'm still kind of mind-boggled at the opportunity I have here. I don't know how or why I was selected from among all of the other applicants, but I am certainly thankful. I look forward to finally being able to do the job I'm getting paid for.

I think that posting will be lite, but who knows, with less distractions(i.e. beer), I may actually get more posting done while I'm over there. I should certainly have a large pool of things to post about.

Anyway, I'm heading out tomorrow. Hope you're all doing well. Stay safe.

Casey

Updates

2011-01-10T23:43:00.002-05:00

Just an update for those who are interested. Not in Afghanistan yet. Currently in Jacksonville, NC trying to go through some training at Camp Lejeune. As soon as I get that done and signed off on, I can deploy. We've run into one little snag there though. The snow.

Who would've thought that snow, could or would shut down a Marine base? It was snowing as I drove in this morning, eager to get the process going, and was informed upon arrival, that the camp was on a 2-hour delay. Only about a third of the group scheduled for processing showed up, so we started to get a little paperwork done, when about 0830, word came down that the base was being shut down.

I hopped in the car, after brushing the 3 inches of accumulated snow off of it, and proceeded to head back to the hotel. The 20 minute drive to get there, in the snow, was increased to a two and a half hour drive to get back to the hotel. Every 'non-essential' person on the base was scrambling to get off base at the same time, what a cluster. I will say that everything proceeded orderly, if not quickly. I don't believe I broke 5 MPH on the way off base, but then again, I only saw one fender-bender on base, and no uncontrolled ditching of cars, though I did see several who had apparently pulled off to the side and secured other transportation.

So I'm sitting here, looking forward to getting started tomorrow, when the alert comes across that the base will be on a 4 hour delay for 'non-essential' personnel. Funny that, I can't hardly remember the last time I was considered 'non-essential'. That generally goes out the crapper when you strap on the badge. Heck, even when I was just doing fingerprinting in the jail, they sent a truck with chains to come and get me during a bad ice storm.

The civilian world is a little odd, and is taking some adjusting to get used to. Will probably be even worse when I get back from a year on a military base. I still feel like a cop, and apparently still act like one, judging from some people's reactions. However, I get a little pang when asked for ID, and I reach for my badge wallet, that's not there anymore.

Also, carrying nothing but my P3AT when I've been home for Christmas, has me thinking and re-evaluating carry choices. While it's a perfectly fine gun, and does exactly what it was meant to do, I'm thinking that when I get back, I need to look at purchasing something a little larger. At least 9mm, if not bigger, for daily carry. That, in and of itself, is going to start a new line of thinking as well.

One of the big advantages of the P3AT, is that it slips into a pocket, no muss, no fuss. Something larger, will necessitate a belt rig. I've heard good things about IWB carry, but have never done so, nor even handled an IWB holster. So that will take some research and experimenting.

Anyway, I'm doing good, though anxious to get going, and feeling like everything that can happen to slow me down is going to happen. Hope everyone is staying safe out there.

I'm going to have another beer, and step outside to ponder the oddity that is snow on the Carolina coast(even if it is North Carolina).

Take care all,

Casey

Leaving on a Jet plane

2010-11-21T09:20:00.001-05:00

Big changes going on here in Carolina. I turned in my badge and duty gear this week, and am departing this morning on a new job.

Turning in the badge was a really weird and uncomfortable feeling, but I think I've made the right decision. I'm starting a new job with a private company to do Forensics again.

Forensics has always been my love, and it will be good to get back into it again.

Lest you think I'll of me, I'm not leaving LE to go work for the defense attorneys. I'm actually going to work for a defense contractor, and will in a lab, on a base, somewhere in-country.

I leave today for training at a Naval base here in the States for about a month, then get to come home for Christmas. After that, I should be making the big hop across the pond for New Years.

I'll have to look into whether or not I'm allowed to make posts and such while over there, however, I should be able to squeak out one or two while I'm stateside.

Really looking forward to this new opportunity.

Take care all,

Casey

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Nuns With Guns

2010-10-31T14:11:00.002-04:00

Just thought I'd share a favorite pic. :) It's floating around the internet on too many different sites to list. Google Nuns with Guns, and you'll turn up literally hundreds of variations...

Casey

Sitting and Thinking

2010-10-30T09:20:00.001-04:00

One of the nice things about hunting, is that it gives you time to think about things. I mean, what else are you going to do, strapped to a tree, 20 feet up off the ground. You sit there hoping that a deer is going to come ambling up that path any second now, so trying not to move, and almost holding your breath lest an unanticipated nose whistle, or the smell of the coffee you drank this morning on your breath spooks the deer off.

So thinking is about all that's left. One of the things I frequently consider while hunting, is how in the devil can a bird that small, produce a noise that ear-shatteringly loud?

Now I'm doing my part, sitting still and quiet, so the bird doesn't seem to know I'm there, when it lands on a branch of the tree next to me, just below my feet. I'd kind of forgotten about it too, as it just sat there quietly, waiting for whatever the signal was.

Boy I flat out knew when it got that signal though. It let out this ear piercing, trilling shriek that told every living thing in the woods that it was damn well time to wake up and get moving.

I damn near jumped out of my stand trying to dive for cover from whatever evil was about to latch on to me. This movement startled the little bird, and it flew off, squawking it's displeasure.

Now that my heart rate has settled down, I think I'm going to ease on out of this tree. I've been hearing a buck, a couple hundred yards East of me, that I just can't seem to lure over here. I'm going to see if I can't sneak down through the woods, and come up behind him. This never works for me, but sneaking through the woods hunting for something is always fun :)

Who'd have thought I'd be able to blog from twenty feet up a tree, in the middle of the woods?

Casey

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Change of Seasons

2010-10-27T20:36:00.002-04:00

The seasons are finally starting to change. We've been broiling hot here this summer and into fall, with my first deer scouting trip in September, being conducted in triple digit temperatures. Things are finally cooling off, though now they tend to get confusing. Last week, morning temps were in the 30s, with highs in the 60s, this morning, it was 70 degrees as I left for work, and 80 degrees on the way home. Add in the rain we've been getting(thankfully), with humidity in the 90+ percentages, and it makes for some miserable times. Everything is sticky with condensation, and the only thing air conditioners do, is attempt to remove some of the moisture from the air, which tends to freeze up AC units. Profitable time to be in the HVAC business.

The only changes at work are for the worse, which confirms predictions by the long-timers, who say that things are still going to get even worse before they get better. Caseloads are still going up, with no end in sight, and we're being asked to do even more with less. Just today I spoke with another Agent who I thought was a fixture at the office, but he has an interview on Friday with an agency a little ways up the road.

To that end, I've been doing a little negotiating myself, trying to develop a job in the private sector, and may have a contract coming up for some good, enjoyable work. Keep your fingers crossed for me :)

One of the things that has been bedeviling me lately has been a case a little north of us, up in North Carolina. I'm sure you've all seen it on the National news. Young Zahra Baker, 10 years old and already a cancer survivor. Lost part of her leg and a good bit of her hearing to the cancer. Then her father up and moves her from their native Australia to rural NC to marry some woman he met on the internet. She's currently missing, and presumed dead.

I am not ashamed to admit, that I was moved to tears when I first saw this story several weeks ago. This beautiful child who had already been through so much, and yet still was full of smiles in any picture you see of her. The indefatigability of youth I guess.

Then the ugly rumors started the next day. All of the neighbors came out to the news to say how they'd seen the Step-mother beat her any time they stopped by. How she went to school with black eyes from one of those beatings. How they new she was going to come to a bad end because the Stepmother was jealous of the attention her father gave her.

At that time, she was just missing, and I turned to my wife and said, "If they find that little girl, I'm calling the Sheriff up there and telling him she can live with us." No argument from the Wife on that one.

Then the angry started. All these "neighbors" who just knew something was wrong, and had seen the child beaten by the stepmother, and just knew she was going to come to a bad end. Every blessed one of them needs to be brought up on charges for failing to report abuse, and complicity in whatever they finally determine happened to that poor child. A few rides on a cattle prod wouldn't be amiss either for these lazy slime balls.

But as the seasons change, people forget, and the news moves on. Two weeks later, and you have to search for updates on the story, what they're doing, what they've found, what they're looking for, etc.. I hate that she's being forgotten already, mostly in favor of what some politician said about another, in the run up to November 2nd.

I don't know why I felt such an immediate connection with this little girl, but I hope it doesn't go away. I pray for her every day, and I think that it's particularly apropos, that on Sundays, I pray for Zahra Clare Baker, in the Monastery of St. Clare. I pray that she receives mercy, and I pray that those who have harmed her are brought to justice.

I pray that as the seasons change, I continue to remember that one little girl who overcame so much, suffered the ultimate indignity. I pray that maybe today, putting one slime ball away, might spare one little girl from a similar fate. That calling DSS about drug abuse in a home with children, might get the children out safely, before things get bad. That threatening one knucklehead with prison, who's not quite beyond redemption, might get their feet on the path they need to tread.

I try to hold my head up, and believe that what we're doing matters, but then one of these cases comes along, where we weren't able to protect the little child, and my head hangs with sorrow. This was not my case, not my jurisdiction, not even in my state, but the failure on our part wounds me all the same. It also stiffens my resolve. I will redouble my efforts here, to see that no such thing happens on my watch.

The seasons change, my badge is a little heavier, a little more worn, a few more nicks and scratches, but as yet, there is no tarnish.

Take care all,

Casey

Victims......really?

2010-10-09T12:54:00.002-04:00

One of the things brought on by budget cuts and shortfalls in our state, is reduced manpower throughout it's agencies. That means an increased workload for the remaining personnel, including duties that were routinely performed by a specialized position in the past. In this particular instance, I'm referring to the no longer existing position of Victims Service Coordinator. We used to have a guy who did nothing but deal with all of the victims of the crimes our offenders perpetrated. He took advantage of the Early Retirement offers brought on by the budget cuts, and now, field agents deal with all the victim stuff as well. I'm here to tell you, it's a load of crap and a waste of time.

Now, before you get your dander up, hear me out first. I have no problem in dealing with real, legitimate victims. I will spend time on the phone with them, I will go out to their homes, and do everything I can to assure them that I will keep an eye on the criminal that hurt them, and if they step out of line, I will come down on them like a ton of bricks.

However, real "Victims", seem to be few and far between in this particular line of work. Most of the people I have to deal with claiming to be 'victims', have been Dramatized, not traumatized. I've got one woman who calls at least once a week, where I'm lucky to get off the phone in less than thirty minutes, and all she wants to talk about is how hard her life has been. Nothing to do with the actual crime the offender is on probation for, she's just using it as an outlet for talking about herself. Blow her off you say? Well, when that happens, meaning I don't return a call in response to a voice mail fast enough, she immediately calls my supervisor. If my supervisor isn't in, or doesn't return the call fast enough, she goes right on up the chain bitching and whining until she gets a hold of someone, who promptly rolls that ball of crap back down hill with explicit orders for me to get on the phone and stay there until this woman is satisfied.

We've become so scared of offending someone who might potentially be, maybe, kinda sorta, a victim of something, that I believe we've lessened what it means to be a victim, for any real victims out there.

What brings this all to mind, is that with our VSC gone, one of our responsibilities now, is sending out Victim Letters. This means, when an offender is in violation status, and is going to be taken in front of a Circuit Judge to face having his/her probation revoked, and being sent to prison, we have to send out letters to the 'victims', notifying them of the time, date, and place of the hearing, so that they can be present if they so desire, or submit a statement for us to present to the judge on their behalf. In general, this isn't a problem, however, one a ran across yesterday just really got my goat.

The dirtbag in question is on for multiple charges, the one causing me problems is this: Pointing and/or Presenting a Firearm at a Person. It's a legitimate charge. You point a loaded gun at someone, and that's a viable threat to that person. However, in this particular case, of the fourteen Victim Letters I was required to send out, only one person actually had the gun pointed at them, and was threatened. The other thirteen, were covered by the muzzle as the dirtbag waved his gat around, gesticulating and ordering the one person who was actually threatened around. However, every single one of the remaining thirteen felt dramatized to such an extent, that they filled out paperwork to be kept abreast of anything that might ever happen with this idiot's case.

Ever been at the range, and had some idiot cover you with the muzzle of a loaded firearm? You might be a victim! Even if you were 8 lanes over, with multiple people and rows of shelving between you and the idiot, you go right ahead and claim 'victim' status, because sure as crap, no one is going to gainsay you, on the off chance that you might sue somebody for Mental Anguish or some crap.

These idiots call themselves 'victims', like it's some sort of badge of honor. Like it somehow puts them on the same level as a real victim, of a real crime. They just want a few minutes in the spotlight, and someone they can complain to who can't hang up on them without getting their own tail in the wringer. They cheapen the title of victim, and take time away from people who could be dealing with victims of real crimes that physically, emotionally, and/or psychologically scar them.

No idea where I'm going with this, other than that whiny people with no real problems just torque me off!

Take care all,

Casey

Suspicious minds...

2010-09-24T15:15:00.001-04:00

It seems, that I have a suspicious mind, or so my wife tells me. Not suspicious as in who is my wife talking to on the phone, is she having an affair? No, cop suspicious, as in, why is that car creeping by so slowly, or I don't recognize that mailman.

My wife calls it suspicious, I mostly just call it being aware of my surroundings, and what's going on. Though I admit, I do tend to look for the darker explanations first. That just makes for a pleasant surprise when the answer turns out to be innocuous.

For example, after a long day in the field yesterday, I got home before my wife and kids(thank God for small favors). As I stop the car at the top of the driveway, and get out to grab the mail before pulling all the way in, something isn't right.

I always scan my surroundings upon entering or exiting anything, be it car, building, or just a room. I have no idea what I've seen, because it hasn't registered yet, but something is off enough that I stop and do a serious look around me. Still can't peg it, so I start to walk around my car, and there it is.

About twelve feet into my driveway, along the right side is a cat. Black as night, mid-length fur, and dead as a hammer. There's a dried blood pool at the head, one eye is bulged out, and those ugly green flies are buzzing all around it.

My first thought is one of relief, because it's not my cat. Heck, that little thing is practically a kitten compared to my largish cat(22ish pounds). This cat, while appearing full grown, would be lucky to push ten pounds, probably closer to seven than eight on second glance. There are strays in the woods around here, and it's probably one of those.

Enter the suspicious mind. Wait a sec, how did it get into my yard, and how did it get dead? I pull on into the driveway, grab some gloves and a shovel, and go back to investigate. The whole time I'm remembering that a neighbor warned me the other week to keep an eye on the kids, as they'd seen a bobcat in the yard proper, and it was acting weird. Rabies is the first thing that popped into my mind then, and I'm thinking of it now as well.

I'm also trying to think if there's anyone I've sent to prison in the past who would he getting out now that might hold a grudge, or someone more recent, with a family member who might hold a grudge. I can't think of anyone off hand, but I'm not discounting anything at this point.

I reach the deceased, and pause for a better look. There's just a small amount of blood, and it appears to have all come out of the mouth. The only thing I can see wrong with it, at least visually, is the right eye is bulged most of the way out of the socket, and a little cloudy. The left eye is in the socket, and appears normal.

I can't see any signs of any kind of trauma, no obvious broken bones, nothing mangled, no apparent extraneous holes or anything. If it wasn't for the bulged eye, and two inch blood stain on the drive, I wouldn't know it wasn't just asleep. Except for the flies of course.

I go to touch it, and it's in full rigor, stiff as a board. I dunno much about calculating ToD based on things like that, but I figured it had been there for at least a few hours to be like that. I proceed to remove the cat out to the deep woods, and then start hosing off the drive. Luckily I'm almost done when everyone else gets home, and all they see is silly daddy playing with the hose.

Best as I can figure, one of the ferals must have been crossing the road, and gotten barely clipped by a passing vehicle. Not enough for serious physical trauma, just enough so that the trauma that did result was fatal. That, and knocked it, either flying or stumbling, far enough into my driveway to make me question where it came from and how it got there.

I will admit to keeping maybe a closer eye on what was going on outside last night. Paying more attention to cars going by, and noises I can't immediately identify. However, sometimes, the simplest explanation is the correct one.

Doesn't mean I won't keep an eye out for the darkside, but will still be pleasantly surprised when things turn out for the best.

Take care all,

Casey

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In the Crapper!

2010-09-12T11:45:00.001-04:00

Here's an pic of what I mentioned in a previous post. The holster is a Safariland ALS. That's a retention holster with a thumb activated release. I like it for the retention aspect, as well as it's comfort and low profile.

The paddle is stiff, yet flexible. This makes it almost forgettable on the hip.

As you can see in the above pic, it also provides enough tension to securely hold it in place when dropped between the wall and the handrail in a handicapped stall.

Now, in full duty rig, there's just no help for it, and you're probably going to end up hanging your duty belt on the door. However, when dressed for the office, or concealment, and not the field, this is a great place to hang your holster.

It keeps it right to hand, without having to actually hold it in your hand, and without having to worry about anyone else's hands getting on it.

Granted, this won't work for everyone, but I like it. YMMV.

Take care all,

Casey

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From the porch...

2010-09-04T09:24:00.001-04:00

I've had a stressful couple of days, so it was nice to see that the weatherman didn't lie last night. He said there was a cool front moving in, and move in it did.

The temperature was in the upper 50s, and the sky full of wispy clouds as the sun came up. I decided to take a cup of coffee, nothing special, just Folger's French Roast, and step onto the back deck to greet the morning.

Here is what greeted me back:

It's a pretty nice view, if I do say so myself. Sipping coffee, enjoying a smoke, and listening to the birds and squirrels wake up and go about their business for the day.

It goes a long way towards alleviating stress. I guess there's another reason I prefer not to live in the city.

Here's hoping all of you enjoy the Holiday weekend!

Take care all!

Casey

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On the road again...

2010-09-02T11:42:00.001-04:00

Posting from the road is interesting, and fun. Mostly because I am posting from the actual road, and not from a hotel or other waystop along the way.

I somehow got suckered into assisting another agent to transport a subject from the local county jail, down to an In-patient treatment facility in the state Capitol. Even though we called half an hour ahead o time to make sure the jail had the subject ready to transport, we still had to wait for over an hour for them to get their ducks in a row.

Normally, that's not so bad, however, today our delay meant that we also got tapped for a last minute extradition. So, after we get this guy settled in at the Capitol, we will grab a quick bite, then head to another part of the state, to another county jail, and hope the next prisoner is more ready to go than the last one.

Don't you just hate it when you cannot effectively plan anything out, because all of your actions end up being governed by those who do not feel your sense of urgency to get their jobs accomplished?

Oh well, at least I have my phone to entertain me :). I'll probably be doing the driving on the second and third legs of the trip, but for now, I can relax and play :p

Take care all,

Casey

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Preppers....Whadda ya know?

2010-08-25T20:40:00.002-04:00

So I'm perusing the blogroll the other day, catching up on some posts by folks I enjoy, and stumble on one of Matt's posts. I can't seem to find it now, but I'm not looking that hard at the moment :p Anyway, he linked, I think, to an older post of his, where he mentioned prepping, and linked to a site called Alpha Disaster Contingencies. So I started poking around there.

Matt had mentioned that these guys were actual Preppers, and not fringe extremists, hoping for society to fail so that they could propel themselves to dominance in a Lord of the Flies kinda scene. Even with that endorsement, I went into it pretty skeptical, cause it seems there are always some wierdos that slip through.

I have to admit to being pleasantly surprised. These guys seem pretty tight. I'm not saying that there aren't a few things that seem a little 'out there' to me, but nothing to make you want to back up and try to slip out un-noticed.

It actually got me thinking about my own situation. I don't claim to be a prepper by any means, and our worst disasters here usually revolve around power outages during ice storms. We had an outage a few years back that lasted a week, and while we were inconvenienced, the only thing we really missed was being able to take regular showers. So I was feeling pretty good about how I might stack up.

Bubble....Burst...

These folks, from what little I've seen, really have it together. They got a good grip on everything, including who gets access to the majority of their methods and information. They apparently go through everything they do with a fine tooth comb, test it to make sure it works, then submit it to everyone else who does their own eval of it, before it gets boiled down to be considered a 'proven' method or technique, or item.

The only downside I see to it, and that's a downside for me, not for them, is that they're very selective about who they allow in to share in their wealth of knowledge. You have to be able to commit to active participation and contribution to even be considered for the probationary evaluation status.

At this point, between work, the kids, work, home repair issues, work, etc., I am unwilling, or just unable, to make the commitment required to get involved. Maybe later on down the road it will be something to look at. Heck, I've already got The Wife on board with stocking up canned goods, and even trying out pressure canning some things.

What I'd really love to do is sit down with one of these guys, and chew the fat for an hour two. There's gotta be a lot of great stories mixed up in all that prepping. Speaking of which, from what I read, there seem to be a number of them located right here in Upstate Carolina. If anyone knows one of them, and would be willing to make an introduction, e-mail me at GreycatSR5_AT_gmail_DOT_com. I'll buy the first round for a sit down at one of our local establishments, just for the chance to talk with one of these guys for a while.

OK, I'm off to see what else I may have missed perusing in the blogroll.

Take care all,

Casey

Did you ever wonder....

2010-08-23T21:20:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wondered what you look like to other people?

I asked myself this the other day because of some interactions I had with people recently released to Probation. One thing I do like about our agency, is unlike other agencies who refer to these people as 'clients', we call a spade a spade, and refer to them as offenders. Mainly because that's what they are, criminal offenders who have broken the law. Apparently, some of them don't know that we know that.

I met one female offender the other day, who obviously thinks I look like Cletus, from the Simpsons.

Image shamelessly stolen from the website, that stole it from the website, that stole it from the website, that stole it from The Simpsons.

Just lift up those bangs to show the scars from the frontal lobotomy, and I guess you'd have a picture of what this woman saw me as.

Generally, when I'm processing someone, I ignore most of what they're saying to try and explain why they are on Probation. It's almost always a misunderstanding, or someone else's fault, they just happened to be the one charged, and pled it out just to "get it over with".

On a side note, I've never understood how committing yourself to seeing me for the next few years, with the threat of years in prison hanging over your head if you screw up, gets anything "over with", but I digress.

For whatever reason, the things she was saying just got on my nerves, so I started listening to her. She was going on about how she'd never been in trouble before, how she'd just fallen in with a bad crowd, etc, etc. Then she started squeezing out some tears, for pity I guess. That was the last straw.

I said "really?", and flipped open her file. So, you're on probation for crime X, hunh? Looks like you were first arrested and convicted of crime X in 1997, again in 1999, and again in 2000, 2001, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, and this final time in 2009, where you were busted for committing crime X a number of times, over 4 different states. That's why you're actually on Probation for crime X-a. That little -a means "Enhancement for 3rd or subsequent offense", which why you're on probation for three years, for what is normally a 30 day charge. Because you keep getting caught for the same crap, you now have to deal with me for the next three years, and if you screw it up, you're facing seven long years down the road.

At this point, the tears were real. Of course, even sobs don't cut it when you just lied to my face, and I had to call out your life story. Sobbing and saying how this is the turning point in your life, and you'll be on the straight and narrow is also a wash. See those little sticks in the cup of your urine there, those tell me you've been doing three different prescription drugs in the two days since you've been out.

What, no viable prescriptions in your name? I didn't think so. That little screw up just cost you $500 worth of substance abuse counseling. Sign at the X, be back here Monday, and if you're dirty again, we'll ditch the classes, and you can explain it to the judge.

Just a tip, you might get away with the "I've never been in trouble before" coupled with a squeeze of the cleavage routine with some rookie still filled with idealism. However, pulling that crap with the graybeard holding your thirty page rap sheet, is just stupid, and digging yourself deeper before you even get started.

Casey

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Deer Hunting

2010-08-22T21:23:00.000-04:00

Went out to some family property in the lower part of the state today to do some scouting for deer season. It's only 50 acres, and mostly a big field from it's time as a grass strip runway for small planes, but oh my, it looks promising!

I knew about the blackberry patch at what had been one end of the runway, and thought that would be promising. I'd forgotten about the old Scupernon vine that had been planted so long ago though. Apparently, a decade or so of neglect just causes them to go crazy. It's huge, heavy with fruit, and about 8 feet away from a veritable deer highway, judging from the tracks.

In addition, wild Muscadine, and honeysuckle are everywhere. Plus, we found two different spots with wild Persimmon trees coming on strong, also heavy with fruit, as yet unripe.

Deer trails are everywhere, with one being so well used it has made about a 3 inch deep rut on the ground.

Prospects look very good there, and I hope to put several deer in the freezer this year.

I'll probably be hunting mostly with a shotgun, my Mossberg 500 pump. Anyone have a favorite load for buckshot, and choke recommendation? I've got a few Winchester and Remington 2 3/4 shells, and a handful of Federal 3 inchers, all in 00 buck. However, as I've never hunted deer with a shotgun, I am open to suggestions.

Casey

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Bread

2010-08-21T21:13:00.000-04:00

Trying out a new recipe. It's supposed to approximate a rustic European style bread. Got the recipe from a book by a guy named Jim Lahey. It's a " no knead " method. Basically, you mix the ingredients together and leave it sticky. Instead of kneading it, and letting it rise for an hour or two, you just let it proof for twelve to eighteen hours. Then a minor shaping and dusting with meal before letting it rise for another two hours. Finally, it goes into a pre-heated Dutch oven, in a hot oven with the lid on for thirty minutes. Then take off the lid and let it get some good color. Another fifteen minutes or so.

That's all there is to it. The long fermentation is supposed to impart a good flavor to the bread. I'll let you know what the critics think.

Other than dumping a mix into a bread machine, this has been about the easiest bread I've ever made. Including the initial mix, the after proof shaping and dusting, putting it into the pot, and pulling it out, I had less than thirty minutes of hands on tine, start to finish. I had to plan it out ahead of time, but it's almost too easy for bread to come out that well on the first try.

Hope you're enjoying your own culinary experiences.

Casey

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Testing

2010-08-21T09:44:00.001-04:00

So I saw all of the squee over Blogpress. I realized I wasn't posting much because even though I have good ideas, between work and the kids, I have trouble finding time to write. Poor time management skills I guess :p

Anyway, thought I'd give this a try, as I can jot down things as they come up, and post from anywhere, not just my broken down dial-up computer at home.

So, this is the very first app I've ever paid for, can you guess those Scottish roots, we'll see if it was worth it :)

Take care all, hope to get to regular posting soon!

Casey

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Never Assume

2010-07-10T20:41:00.002-04:00

And in this case, I mean never assume that the people you work along side, do things the same as you do, with the same thoroughness, etc.

Last Thursday, I was out on an extradition. Nothing big, going to pick up a Sex Offender, and bring him back to get hooked up on GPS tracking before he's let loose into the world. Local prison, we get the guy, and are back by lunchtime, though I did have to practically go through a strip search to go in and bring him out of the prison in question.

Anyway, we're back before lunch, and turn him over to our GPS guys, and he's someone elses problem. I'm sitting at my desk, catching up on paperwork, when one of my teammates comes by, and says his relative has been injured in a fall, he'd like to be at the surgery, is there anyway I could cover an extradition for him. It's just a couple of hours up the road in Anywhere, NC. Me being a decent guy and all, and hoping someone would step up for me should I have a family emergency, I says sure, who am I going with. He tells me the other agent, and that she has all the info for the extradition. I give her a call, and sure enough, she's got the file, and everything is squared away, what time do we want to leave.

Now here's where the assumption came in. I assumed, that because a fairly competent co-worker told me everything was squared away, that everything was, in fact, squared away. Fast forward the clock to about 10:00 AM, the next morning. We pull into the the nice big sally port at the prison in Anywhere, NC, check our weapons, and stroll through the doors to be greeted by an officer holding a sheet of paper, and asking whether we want the good news or the bad news first. What do you mean bad news?!? Our subject is not currently in residence at this particular facility, he at the prison in Otherwhere, NC, five hours East of our current location.

I'm fairly certain that my jaw broke the table on it's way to the floor. I'm struggling to pick my jaw up off the floor, but I needn't have bothered. The agent I'm with says, but he was supposed to be transferred to this facility two days ago. Are you freakin kidding me?!?! You knew the subject was incarcerated in a prison on the coast, and you never thought to call and verify that he had actually been transported to a different facility?!?

We make our good byes, retrieve our weapons, get back in the car, and head out. I pull over at the first gas station that shows up, and get out for a smoke. I'm not sure which is producing more smoke, my handroll, or the top of my head :/ Of course, it's the guy's max-out date, so the facility in Otherwhere, NC is going to cut him loose today, one way or the other. Of course, since it's now 10:30 AM, it's too late to arrange for anyone else to get involved from an office closer to Otherwhere, so guess who's happy butt is getting to drive another five hours to the coast, to pick up someone, because the people in charge of arranging this cluster, all assumed someone else had ensured that everything was happening like they hoped it would?

We finally made it back to the office, late that night, fourteen hours after departing that morning. Talk about a long, sucky day. I swear, I will never assume that anyone I work with is competent at their job, merely because they appear so. I don't care if it makes me look like a prick, but I'll be going behind everyone to verify facts before I head out of the door with anyone.

Moral of the Day: If you do the leg work, you have only yourself to blame, if you assume someone else did the leg work, you have only yourself to blame. Either way, you're getting blamed.

Take care all,

Casey

Once you're hooked, you're hooked...

2010-06-30T21:37:00.003-04:00

Went through some training last month designed to help keep us up to speed on various situations that might arise in an arrest scenario that we might be involved in. Keep in mind, that unlike a road patrol officer, who might be making an arrest by themselves, or with a single officer for back up, whereas we normally go out in teams of at least five agents when serving warrants and are serving them in residences, not on the roadside. While we are by no means, a SWAT team, we do go in with a plan, with designated people to gain entry, contact, cover, and agents detailed to secure the perimeter.

The last scenario of the day, had myself playing cover to a veteran agent as we proceeded to clear the house, our entry agent having gained us access, and controlling the several non-hostile civilians who happened to be in the front room, with the aid of a perimeter agent.

My contact agent opens a door, with me right behind her, and I hear shouting and see the glint of light on a blade. I draw my weapon, and take a couple of steps to the side, giving myself a clear line of sight to the potential target, while still be able to cover my contact agent, and gain myself a bit of cover if needed. Unnecessary it seems. the veteran agent cleared leather like greased lightning, and drilled the suspect who was approaching her, while waving a large sword in an aggressive manner.

Good shoot, by the book, etc...guy isn't dead. He's laying on the floor, moaning and clutching his chest with his right hand, while his left hand still menaces with the sword. This is where it really comes home, how realistic some of this training can be, and how involved you can become in the false reality of the training. The veteran agent was shocked by what she had done, and immediately began apologizing to the suspect for shooting him, and telling him everything was going to be OK. Myself, being a bit more cynical, and focused on covering my contact agent's butt, moves in, and steps on the guys left wrist, and disarms him. Then, since I've got a wrist trapped under my boot, I go ahead and slap a cuff on it, and then manhandle the guy over onto his chest, until I can get the other wrist in cuffs. Showing a bit of compassion, I do apologize for any additional pain I might be causing him, and assure him that as soon as I get the cuffs on, I'll get EMS there double-quick.

My primary focus on on getting this guy safely into custody, without anything else going pear-shaped, so it's a minute or so before I realize that the veteran agent is asking why I'm cuffing the guy. I explain that he's under arrest, so I'm cuffing him. The reply is, "But he's been shot!" Doesn't matter. If I have a warrant for your arrest, and I'm in physical contact with you, the cuffs are going on, regardless of your condition, we'll sort it out once EMS, the local officers, and a supervisor arrives. By the book. It's not my fault the guy got shot, nor that he had a warrant for his arrest, I'm just doing my job, and I'm not going to risk myself, the agent I'm covering, or anyone else responding to the scene by not doing it right.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. I've got a a guy on my caseload that's due to report to me, let call him Chuckles. So I get this phone call, before report day, it's Chuckles girlfriend, or baby momma, or friend-girl, or whatever she's being called. She tells me that Chuckles has bench warrants, and that "He needs to sit down for a minute." I kid you not, they've apparently been arguing, so she thinks he needs to sit down and think about things for a bit. Whatever her motivations are, I'm happy for the heads-up.

Chuckles comes in to report, we go through the formalities, and then I tell him I need to check something in his file, and step to the back. Whereupon I immediately called the local County Warrants office, and confirmed that they did in fact have an active warrant for Chuckles. They stated a unit was on it's way to pick him up, and I told him I would hook him up and await their arrival. At this point, I remember that we're operating pretty much on a skeleton crew, and I need at least one other person there when I hook this guy up. I grab Goose, who is still on light duty due to a dog bite incident. Goose dutifully informs me that he is on light duty, and can't be involved in any arrests, even though he's usually the first on to volunteer to get in the middle of something, he's actually toeing the agency line. I don't feel like hunting down someone else, so I tell him to just stand there and look menacing, I'll do all the work. I hook Chuckles up, no problems, Goose grabs me an evidence bag as I begin emptying out the guys pockets, making sure he doesn't have anything illegal on him before we sit down to wait on County to arrive.

As I'm taking the watch off of Chuckles wrist, I notice that his hand is sweaty, and I don't mean just a little wet on the palm from being nervous, but big beads of sweat all over his hand. I draw back and observe that the formerly calm Chuckles, is now covered in giant beads of sweat. This probably isn't going to end well. Chuckles starts exclaiming about how he has to go to the bathroom. Luckily, the bathroom is maybe eight feet from where I take my reports, I escort him there, and as I turn to look back at Goose, Chuckles starts going on about how I need to let him loose before he craps himself, because he's got a weak bladder. Yeah, you read that right, he's going to crap himself, because he's got a weak bladder.

I tell him that I can't do that, because once he's hooked, the cuffs stay on. Once County gets here, if they want to loose him up, that's their decision, but for now, he just needs to suck it up, County will be here in a minute or three. At which point Chuckles plops down on the toilet lid, and begins spewing chunks.

No I've worked Crime Scene, and I've been around everything from backed up toilets and unwashed bodies, to weeks old Decomps, and about the only thing I really can't stand being around, is Puke. Here's Chuckles, spewing away, and I turn to Goose and tell him to go get a supervisor.I may have gotten a little frantic in my demand for a supervisor, but hey, it's puke, and Casey doesn't do spew.

Supervisor comes, decides to call maintenance to send a cleaning crew for the room, and County takes Chuckles into custody, and transports him to jail. Funniest moment was probably when the little lady from HouseCleaning came walking in with a handful a paper towels to clean up the mess. I was still dealing with Chuckles, but I have it on good authority that the supervisor looked at her, and said, "honey, you're going to need more than that." :)

Anyway, it kind of brings home the point, that once you hook somebody up, there is no un-hooking them, unless there's a radical change in circumstances, usually involving the orders of someone several pay grades above yours. Bleeding or Puking, or anything in between, if we have a valid warrant, you're getting hooked, and someone else can straighten it out later.

Take care all, and be safe out there.

Casey

WooHoo!

2010-06-11T21:05:00.002-04:00

Big thanks to Carteach0 and Crucis for helping me out with my wondering and the removal of my previous post. I'd hate to unintentionally cause grief to another blogger, especially after going through all the hassle of moving and changing like that.

On the upside, I've rediscovered one of my favorite bloggers, and will add her back to the sidebar once an appropriate amount of time has passed, and hopefully, no links or conclusions will be made.

For now though, I have to say that I'm enjoying the new blog as much as the old, and literally had tears running from my eyes I was laughing so hard.

I'll come back with an original post here in a bit, as I have several stories to share, but for now, I think I'm going to go read some blogs I've neglected to peruse recently :)

Take care all,

Casey

Where things stand...

2010-05-13T16:15:00.002-04:00

So, Turkey season is over, and I remained unlucky throughout the entire season. An example of my luck you ask? I hunt on public land here in SC, so when I head into the woods, I hike down an access road for half a mile or so, get off onto a 4-wheeler trail for a half mile or so, cut through the woods for a hundred yards or so to the remains of an hold hiking trail that hasn't been used in years which I follow for another half mile or so, then come of the hiking trail for a hundred yards or so to the spot that I was hunting this season. I always thought I was pretty far off the beaten trail, until opening day when I got walked up on by the hunter coming in from behind me where the private land is. Then on closing day, I'm sitting in my spot, sending out a few calls, maybe hearing some faint replies way off in the distance. Then I hear something odd, out of place, and quickly getting louder. Coming down this old hiking trail, that like I said, hasn't been used in the 6 years I've been hunting there, comes five joggers. Running full tilt, strung out along about a fifteen yard stretch, and yelling a conversation back and forth about the latest episode of who did who, on whatever pay channel they all have. I sat there dumbfounded for a few minutes, as every critter within a few hundred yards of the trail took off for more remote areas, and then I packed up and headed out. On the way out, two more groups of joggers went by, on of which had somebody with some sort of MP3 player with a speaker, blasting music out while he was jogging!

Seriously, what are these people doing in the woods? It's not like they're experiencing nature or anything, running full tilt, yelling at the top of their lungs, or blasting music. I recall thinking they'd be better off jogging in a city, or better yet, on a jogging track, instead of being inconsiderate to anyone and anything that might be in the woods. Of course, I also recall thinking I should fire off a shot just after they passed where I was, just to see how many of the manly little men in they're 'running' outfits, would wet themselves :) But that's it for this Turkey season, maybe next year.

The eye is healing up. Still not 100%, but I think the vision is at about 20/60 or 20/40. There's still a little divot in my eye which is slowly growing back, but until it does, there's no way to correct the vision, as the light is refracting through the divot that is right over the pupil, which distorts things. The distortion is really only noticeable with bright spots, such as lights at night time, and letters on pages. The letters look like some sort of Arabic writing when I close my left eye. And of course, raindrops on the windshield, which get blurred and comma shaped in my vision, plus refract light in their won way, really throw the vision off. Most of the time though, it's just a slight blurriness in my day to day vision that comes from one good eye, and one not so good. We'll see how things end up eventually.

Last week, I was buried in paperwork trying to get ready for court, and was unable to go out in the field with my partner, Goose. Consequently, on the one day we're not out together, he gets mauled by a pit bull. Luckily, it's not to bad, a few punctures and lacerations, all confined to the left hand, and he's well on the mend, though restricted to desk duty for the moment.

Sadly, even though it's only about an hour and a half away, I will not be making the NRA convention in Charlotte, nor the blogmeet that Breda is getting together. It really sucks, as I don't know when there will be a group like that this close again, but I just can't get the logistics to work out this weekend :(

Looks like I'm still employed for the moment, but with forty-seven or so days to go in the fiscal year, we still have no idea what our budget will look like, or if we'll have to let anyone go. My wife's agency has already given them notice that they will have ten days of mandatory unpaid furlough next fiscal year. We're likely to get that as well at a minimum. On the upside, I've already lined up a small part-time job, and a somewhat permanent basis that starts next month. It will only bring in fifty or sixty bucks extra a week, but there's minimal time involved, and every little bit helps. I've also got a line on a floating, fill-in position that pays really well, if only sporadically, and it'll be great if that works out. Who knew kids were so expensive? :p

Speaking of that, home today with the little one. Was at work, pounding away at the never ending black hole that is paperwork, when daycare called and said she was throwing up, and I'd better come and get her. Both kids have been a little under the weather, but that has just been a cold I think. This is some sort of stomach bug going through the daycare.

Hoping to take the kids to the zoo this weekend, and maybe get together with the guys for a bit. Hope things are going well for you all out there.

Take care,

Casey

Tamalanche!!!

2010-04-09T22:11:00.003-04:00

It seems I've managed to catch Tam's eye. A warm welcome to all new visitors.

I'm, Casey, and this is my blog(sounds a bit like a twelve-step program, doesn't it?).

Feel free to poke around and see if there's anything you like. This blog has ended up being a bit more eclectic than I had originally thought it would be, but I guess it's kinda of like me in that respect. I don't post as often as I would like, and when I do, I write about whatever has grabbed my attention for the moment. My partner goes on about the attention span of an ADHD Gnat, or some such, to which I generally respond with a blah, blah blah :)

While I'm not nearly as erudite or loquacious as some of the folks you'll find in my sidebar, I do occasionally manage to get something out that catches the eyes of those who inspired me to try my own hand at writing.

I'll be going around for a week now poking my friends and saying"Didya see? Tam linked me ! :) "

Ah well, grab a beer and have a gander. I should have another Turkey hunting story out next week, hopefully more fruitful, as I'll be back in the woods this weekend, and it seems as if the conditions have changed and the turkeys are running like crazy :)

Once again, welcome and enjoy,

Casey

HAPPY EASTER !!!

2010-04-04T08:23:00.002-04:00

Happy Easter to all! The girls are jacked up on sugar and chocolate, so we're heading off to Mass at the local monastery.

Hope you all have a wonderful Easter!

Casey

The Wild

2010-04-02T20:41:00.005-04:00

So, it occurred to me yesterday, that even people who are accustomed to being in the outdoors, can be caught off guard, when suddenly face to face with "The Wild".

Take me for example. I like being out in the woods. I enjoy hunting, and am familiar with most of what I'm liable to run into when I'm out and about. However, thinking that you are mentally prepared for something to happen, and then seeing you reaction when it actually happens, can be an eye opening experience.

For example, April 1st was the opening day of Turkey Season, here in Carolina. Like any dutiful Turkey hunter, I camped out overnight, to be near my chosen hunting spot, was up at 4 AM, and walking in by 4:30 AM, so that I could be settled into my spot, a long hour and a half or so before shooting light arrived. Just in case I disturbed any gobblers on the way in, I want to make sure they have time to settle back in and forget about me :)

It was actually a perfect morning to be walking in to the woods in the dark. A nice 45 degrees or so, no wind at all, and a moon that was near full. Combine that moon with the fact that the trees are only budding, and have not yet leafed out, and it means I didn't even have to use a flashlight to make my way the mile and a half into the woods where I was planning to hunt. Now granted, I'd scouted the trailed earlier, and place add shaped logs where I would need to turn of the trails and cut across country, but I was pretty proud of the fact that I remembered my way in, and made it without a flashlight :)

Any way, I'm settled in early, and in a good spot. I'm up against a tree, no more than 4 feet or so off the inside bend of a small creek. I've got a couple of blown down trees on my right, shielding me from anything coming up on me in that direction, and my blind, along with some piled branches from the blow down, shielding me to the front and left. I nice view across the creek about 75 to 100 yards where the land starts sloping up a ridge in front of me, a ridge sloping up about 35 yards behind me, and off to my left, a view farther than I can see as this creek hollow opens up onto nice hard wood bottom land, before it turns swampy at about 400 yards, where the beaver dam has made a small lake. Here's a little picture, peeking out from the blind at my little hen decoy, about 15 yards to me left and across the creek :)

Now, 45 degrees is nice when you're walking in, and not bad when you're sitting there covered up by an extra coat used as a blanket, but when you take that off, so as not to interfere with calling or getting a gun into play, 45 degrees is shivering weather when you're sitting still. I swear, I placed the striker on my pot, and was making soft clucks without even trying :p Anyway, I start calling with this little glass topped pot, makes a nice mellow, subdued cluck and yelp, much like a hen just waking up. I get an immediate response from behind me, and to my left. Sounds far away, probably over the ridge, but definitely responsive. I think to myself, this is it. I've got his attention, and he'll make his way over here sooner or later. I throw out a few yelps every now and then, just to make sure he hasn't forgotten about me, but mostly I just sit and wait for the fun times to begin.

About 45 minutes into luring this fellow towards me, I hear a crunching step in the leaves. I get excited. Until I hear the next step, which, while coming from behind me, is on my right side, and a bit too loud for a turkey. I peer around the tree behind me, and what do I see? Another hunter, who has walked up on my spot, not knowing I was there. He waves to acknowledge that he's seen me, and turns and starts heading away from me, straight in the direction my gobbler is calling from. Less than an hour later, I hear the shot from that direction, and reckon my gobbler is dead, killed by the interloper.

I figure there are certainly more turkeys in these woods, and settle in to try and lure another into range. About 0930 or so, I decide to switch from my glass pot, to a single sided box call. I let out a few clucks, then bang out a yelp or two that I know carries well past the next ridge, hoping to lure another gobbler in. after about the third yelp, I hear a crashing in the leaves. I get all excited again, knowing that it's a big ol' gobbler rushing in to get some lovin. Until I realize that once again, there's entirely too much noise being made for it to be a turkey. It's coming from up stream, and I peer through the trunks of the blow downs, and spot a patch of brown and a bit of black. My first thought is what is a deer doing running through here in the middle of the day. I jump to my feet, so that I can see over the trunks, expecting to see a deer, and come face to face with a coyote, skidding to stop not twenty feet away, on the other side of the creek and the blow down.

I said, right out loud, "Holy Crap! You're a coyote!". The coyote looked back at me with a look that clearly said he wasn't sure how humans had gotten to the top of the food chain, if that was my brightest comment. About this time, I remembered that not only did I have a shotgun in my hands, coyotes are fair game anytime of the year, with whatever ammo you have on hand. I believe I may have said something unpleasant, as I snatched the gun to my shoulder, and thumbed off the safety. The coyote, not having to waste time with witty repartee, just took off like a bullet, and was out of turkey-shot range before I could get the gun mounted.

Now, I know that there are coyotes in those woods. Heck, I've come upon scat while scouting for this turkey season, but coming face to face with him like that took me totally off guard. I think because I wasn't expecting to see a coyote, the possibility just didn't occur to me, and by the time I'd registered the fact, it was too late to do anything about it.

This got me to thinking. While I know there are coyotes in the woods I hunt, and I carry rounds more than sufficient to deal with them, because I wasn't mentally prepared to actually see one in broad daylight, I wasn't able to deal with it as I should have. Coming face to face with "the Wild", I came out on the short side of the stick. Luckily for me, it was just a coyote, and most interested in getting away from me as fast as possible. As I sat there the rest of the afternoon thinking, it occurred to me, that coyotes are not the worst of what's out in the areas I hunt. Especially in the northern areas I hunt, there have been sightings of red wolves which were transplanted into that other Carolina, and have wandered in and about. Not to mention there being black bear and bobcats scattered throughout. We even have occasional claims of cougar sightings. I don't know how valid they are, I myself haven't seen a cougar in Carolina on over 30 years, but then again, I don't spend as much time in the woods as some folks.

These are all predators, even the coyote, which could do serious damage if they took it in their heads to do so. Even though I know about them, and think I'm prepared to deal with them, it turns out that I just wasn't prepared at all. Mostly mentally, probably because, once again, while I knew they were out there, I never truly expected to see them, especially not so close. When I'm working in the field, the gun, badge, and armor, all serve as reminders of just how ugly it can get pretty danged quickly. I'm prepared, not only equipment-wise, but mentally, to deal with any threat, real or perceived, that I might encounter on the job.

I learned yesterday, that while I may have thought I was prepared to deal with what the Wild might throw my way, I was in fact, not mentally prepared for it. I was literally stunned into inaction, if only for a second or two, by the unexpected encounter. In the field, this could mean mine, or my partner's life, so I'm ready to react at the slightest provocation. I did not possess the same readiness, or mindset in the woods, and the Wild snuck one in on me. Luckily, it wasn't a bad one, but I will learn from this lesson, and be better prepared to act in the future.

Think about what you're likely to encounter, and ask yourself if you're really prepared to deal with. Wherever you might be, you never know what might pop up.

Take care all,

Casey

Funny E-Mail

2010-03-26T21:19:00.002-04:00

I received an e-mail that made me chuckle, and thought I would share it with you, on the off chance that it hasn't already ended up in your In-Box. Here it is:

Subject: Animal Rights activists Protested Leather-Wearing at a Biker Rally

HERE'S HOW POLICE FOUND ONE OF THEM.

Johnstown, PA (GlossyNews) - Local and state police scoured the hills outside rural Johnstown, Pennsylvania, after reports of three animal rights activists going missing after attempting to protest the wearing of leather at a large motorcycle gang rally this weekend. Two others, previously reported missing, were discovered by fast food workers "duct taped inside several fast food restaurant dumpsters," according to police officials.
"Something just went wrong," said a still visibly shaken organizer of the protest. "Something just went horribly, horribly, wrong."
The organizer said a group of concerned animal rights activist groups, "growing tired of throwing fake blood and shouting profanities at older women wearing leather or fur coats," decided to protest the annual motorcycle club event "in a hope to show them our outrage at their wanton use of leather in their clothing and motor bike seats." "In fact," said the organizer, "motorcycle gangs are one of the biggest abusers of wearing leather, and we decided it was high time that we let them know that we disagree with them using it, ergo, they should stop."
According to witnesses, protesters arrived at the event in a vintage 1960's era Volkswagen van and began to pelt the gang members with balloons filled with red colored water, simulating blood, and shouting "you're murderers" to passers by. This, evidently, is when the brouhaha began.
"They peed on me!!!" charged one activist. "They grabbed me, said I looked like I was French, started calling me 'La Trene', and duct taped me to a tree so they could pee on me all day!"
"I was trying to show my outrage at a man with a heavy leather jacket, and he didn't even care. I called him a murderer, and all he said was, 'You can't prove that.' Next thing I know he forced me to ride on the back of his motorcycle all day, and would not let me off, because his girl friend was out of town and I was almost a woman."
Still others claimed they were forced to eat hamburgers and hot dogs under duress. Those who resisted were allegedly held down while several bikers "farted on their heads."
Police officials declined comments on any leads or arrests due to the ongoing nature of the investigation, however, organizers for the motorcycle club rally expressed "surprise" at the allegations.
"That's preposterous," said one high-ranking member of the biker organizing committee. "We were having a party, and these people showed up and were very rude to us. They threw things at us, called us names, and tried to ruin the entire event. So, what did we do? We invited them to the party! What could be more
friendly than that? You know, just because we are all members of motorcycle clubs does not mean we do not care about inclusiveness. Personally, I think it shows a lack of character for them to be saying such nasty things about us after we bent over backwards to make them feel welcome."

When confronted with the allegations of force-feeding the activists meat, using them as ad hoc latrines, leaving them incapacitated in fast food restaurant dumpsters, and 'farting on their heads,' the organizer declined to comment in detail. "That's just our secret handshake," assured the organizer.

Now, you can of course, go to Snopes, and check it out, and find that this is a piece of satire, written purely for entertainment value. If you were entertained by reading it, then I'm glad I shared it with you. We all need a little laughter now and then.

On the other hand, it does bring an interesting question to mind. Why aren't the patchouli-hippies going after bikers in all their leather gear? I don't really keep up with it much, but I do remember news stories in the past where some animal-rights group or another, would throw paint at people wearing fur coats. Usually expensive ones. I don't ever recall a news story where they confronted a biker group. Could be that it never made the news because they disappeared....but I tend to think it just never happened.

It makes me question the depth of their convictions. They're perfectly willing to spout all sorts of foulness, and do things to humiliate others, as long as there are no severe repercussions. Locked up for a night? Fined? Ordered to pay Restitution? No problem. Facing the prospect of a beat-down by someone who isn't wearing a badge, and therefore constrained to using only 'necessary force'? Hmmm, not so much.

It sort of makes one take a deeper look at themselves, at their own convictions. What would I be willing to stand up for, regardless of the consequences?

Reminds of something I've read somewhere, no idea where or when, but it involved a man being held at gun point, about to be murdered. The man holding the gun told the other to get down on his knees, and beg for his life. The other mans reply, " I'm only going to die once, I'm going to face it like a man, not cowering from it in fear." Couldn't tell you how it turned out, as I don't remember where I read it, but it sticks with me. Hope I'm that confident when the time comes.

Take care all, and remember to laugh once in a while :)

Casey

Not so good news...

2010-03-25T21:00:00.002-04:00

So, I've been seeing the eye doctor fairly regularly since the incident. All the visits have been fairly perfunctory, with the Doc saying that things are healing, and that it will keep getting better. Say, 95+% chance of full recovery of my normal eyesight with just the drops. Until yesterday that is.

I went in yesterday, and apparently, almost all of the swelling is gone. This, apparently, allowed the Doc to see something that wasn't visible while everything was swollen. There is some sort of flat spot, or divot, in my cornea, in the dead center of the pupil. This is why I'm still seeing everything blurry through my right eye. Now, all of the sudden, the Doc doesn't want to talk numbers when estimating my chance of full recovery. Now, we're talking a month or two of healing, as opposed to the week or two that had been on the table previously. Now, we're discussing things like the possibility of surgery, and the probability of my having to wear a corrective lens for my right eye.

It's become kind of scary for me. I don't know who would understand better, those who wear glasses, or those who don't, but fear having to. All of my life, I've had perfect vision. Better than perfect actually, being 20/10 and 20/12 respectively left and right. Now, all of the sudden, I can't see anymore. I can still see out of my left eye fine, but the right eye is all blurry, and nothing I do can bring it into focus. I discovered last night, that I can no longer remove a splinter from my children's hand. The splinter is so small, that I have to bring it close, with the fuzz in my right eye, I can't see what I'm doing, so I close it, and then discover that with just my good left eye, I don't have the depth perception needed to gauge the distance between the straight pin and the splinter, and just totally miss the thing.

For me, it's a painful realization that I may be like this permanently. I guess because vision is something I've always taken for granted, now that it's gone, I really miss it.

I also must admit, that I'm having trouble being a grown up about it. Meaning that I'm having trouble turning the corner from being upset/angry/scared, and asking "why me?", and getting to the point where I can be thankful that at least I still have my eye, and can still see out of it, if fuzzy/blurry.

I hope everyone out there is doing well, and be thankful for what you have, not angry over what you don't have. I know I'm sure trying.

Casey

Eye Scare

2010-03-14T13:08:00.002-04:00

I hope everyone remembers to always wear eye protection. I know I do. Always have on protective lenses at the range, and when I'm in the field, I always wear protection that looks like generic wrap around sunglasses, but is actually mil-spec polymer that will stop a load of #3 shot from 30 feet. Not that I'd want to test that out myself, but better safe than sorry.

This scare comes from an incident where I was not wearing eye protection. Mainly, because I was in a situation that didn't call for it. Namely, my kids' bedroom, Monday night, after bath time, getting the little ones dressed. The oldest, in a little spat of over exuberance, managed to shove one of the fingers of her left hand into my right eye, and up under the eyelid. I'm fairly certain I startled people up to half a mile away with the shout that escaped me as I ran to the bathroom, fully expecting to see blood.

Luckily, there was no blood. The pain, however, was quite intense. I managed to make it through getting the kids to bed, and then the pain ratcheted up a notch to agony. I swear, it felt like someone had shoved a jacked rock under my eyelid, that was shredding my eye with every blink or movement. I finally ended up taping my eye shut so that I could go to sleep, with plans to go to the doctor's office the next morning if it didn't feel any better. After a fitful night of much pain, and little sleep, I decided that I'd call my partner, see if he could cover for me at work, and then head on to the doctor.

I get to the doctor's office about 0830, and check in. I'm thinking that my only problem, is probably something lodged under my eyelid that I can't flush out, but surely the Doc or one of his nurse-types, can get out for me. I'm told that they'd be happy to squeeze me in, but it'll be about 1630 before they have an opening. I think my jaw actually bounced off of the receptionist' desk at that. Seriously? They want me to wait eight more hours, to see if they can squeeze me in for a five minute eye wash and check?(and we wonder why Emergency rooms are so full of ridiculous problems?) Luckily, this cute redhead with a British accent behind the desk leans over, and points out that there's a CVS pharmacy, with a Nurse Practitioner on duty, about a mile and a half from where we are right now. I thank the pretty lady, and head out.

As an aside, I'm not really sure what the deal is with Nurse Practitioners. They seem like a regular Doc, handling everything I've ever been able to throw at them, just without the Doc in front of their name. Great people when you need something sorted out though :)

I get to the aforementioned pharmacy, fill out the little slip, and sit down to wait. Maybe 20 minutes later, she calls me back. We go through the initial questions as she's filing my insurance paperwork, than she starts looking at my eye. She hems and haws, puts dye in my eye, and looks at it under various lights. Then she turns away, picks up the phone, and calls a specialist. She tells me that there is a cut, directly over my pupil, and she thinks an ophthalmologist needs to look at it with their specialized equipment. So much for something being stuck under my eyelid. The NP tapes my eye shut, and sends me on my way.

I get to the eye Doc's, and have to wait about an hour or so before they can squeeze me in to look at me. It's a long wait, but I don't mind that much, because the NP told me that this is the best eye place in the area, and we don't want to take any chances with my vision. I get back to see the Doc, and he does a lot of poking and prodding, more dye, and a greater variety of lights, all while peeking through one of those eye scope thingies. He sits back, and says "Wow, she really did a number on you." Turns out, there is a layer of skin that covers your eyeball, called the epithelium, or something like that. My three year old, managed to shred mine, directly over the pupil. Bit and pieces of hit hanging out and flopping around. That's what was causing the majority of the pain.

Doc puts some numbing drops in my eye, then grabs one of those little swabs, and proceeds to scrub my eyeball with it. Talk about a freak out. I'm getting shivers just remembering it. He gets all the loose stuff off, gives me a bajillion different drop things to put in my eye, and says see you in a couple of days.

That's been almost a week ago. For those first few days, I was down to about 30-40% vision in my right eye, and what was there, was useless. It was like looking at everything through pea-soup fog, all fuzzy and blurry, and of course, bright light just sent stabbing pains straight into my brain. Now, almost a week into it, I'd say I have 85-90% vision in my right eye, and looking at things through more of a haze than a fog. Makes me think of a smoke filled room. Bright lights, while no longer painful, are blinding. Kind of like it hits whatever is clouding my eyesight, and just intensifies somehow.

The Doc says it should heal all the way back to normal within another week or two, but I swear it can't happen fast enough for me. I've already developed a sort of skittish, nervousness about anything coming up on my right side, and the headaches from my brain trying to sort out the two disparate images from each eye, and resolve them into one homogeneous whole are, quite literally, a pain.

While this was not a circumstance that one would generally wear eye protection in, it really drove home for me the absolute necessity of wearing eye protection when you're doing anything that might put your eyesight at risk. I can guarantee that I'll be getting some eye protection to wear for all yard work now, not just the power tools, and just about anything else I might be doing. You might want to think about your own eye protection, and if it's adequate.

Take care all,

Casey

Catching Up

2010-03-13T20:20:00.002-05:00

Catching up, I swear, it seems like all I ever do anymore. I had a paperwork SNAFU a few weeks ago. To be honest, something I should've stayed on top of, but I let it slip by me, and it bit me right where you'd think. When you stop and look at it, in the grand scheme of things, it was a relatively minor screw-up. No one got hurt by it, physically, mentally, financially, or any other -ally that you could think of. Don't tell that to the brass though, cause holy crap what a storm it brought down on my stupid arse.

There's a lot of paperwork in this job, probably at least 65% of what we do involves paperwork and tracking things like who's getting out when, how much money they owe a victim, how much longer we'll supervise them, and if /when they complete any of a myriad of little time wasters a judge might tick off for them to do, from substance abuse counseling, to acquiring a GED , attending any one of a number of classes from victim awareness, to MADD, to anger management. The list is, apparently, endless, and if you forget to check off something before that expiration date comes and goes, your butt goes in the wringer. At least, mine does :p

Anyway, I get dinged for a slippage on the paperwork side, not for any fieldwork, arrests, or any actual interactions with the people I ride herd on, but for not paying close enough attention to an expiration date, and checking off a tick mark. Whatever. I'm a man, admit my mistakes, and get ready to take my lumps. Only thing is, the boss doesn't come out with the clue bat, like one might expect, but with a damned pink slip! Talk about over-reacting. Says this slip-up is a sign that my job performance is sub-standard, and if I can't get it up to scratch in 90 days, I'm gonna have to hit the pavement. Wowzers! Once again, I'm a man, I can own up to my own mistakes, and do whatever it takes to make it right.

Enter my direct supervisor, who I always knew was a bit detail oriented, and my new, weekly checklist of paperwork that must be done. I swear, I've gone from doing a moderate amount of paperwork each week, and having a pretty good handle on what my people were up to, to doing 4 times the paperwork I used to do each month, on a weekly basis, and not even recognizing all the names on my caseload. Once again, it's going to get done, and at the end of 90 days, everything will be just so, and I'll be off the hook, for a month or two anyway, and there's the rub.

I could see the striving for perfection and exact paperwork compliance among 100% of field agents, with axes falling for minor infractions, if we were busting. If the economy was good, our agency was fully funded, and we had field agents swinging from the rafters. However, that is most definitely, not the case. The last time we hired a group of field agents, was like December of 2007, and they've all been let go already, over a year ago in fact. RIFed a few days before their one year probationary period would have expired. They found out a few days before Christmas in 2008 (heck of a holiday present to take home to your pregnant wife eh?). Our agency is supposed to have about 540 certified officers state wide, if a recall correctly. Currently, our roster of certified officers hovers just above 300 or so. Don't believe me? Read all about it here. That's actually a fairly decent article, as newspapers go. It's from down in the Low Country, and they interviewed a local PD Chief. Seems the legislature is talking about cutting our agency's funding to the point that about 100 officers would have to be let go across the state. I like the Chief's take on things, though I've never met him personally, he sounds like someone I'd rather have making these kinds of decisions, than some of the chuckleheads we have in the capitol currently.

Anyway, the crux of it all is this. I've got a pink-slip hanging over my head if I don't do my job correctly. Easily accepted, if you can't cut it, you need to find a new line of work. Only problem is, I've got another pink slip hanging over my head, because the legislature is more concerned with funding unemployment benefits, and subsidized housing, than it is about keeping decent people safe from criminals. That's the one that torques me off, because I know I'm going to ace the performance aspect, but I can't do anything about a bureaucrat with less sense than rock.

Legislature is supposed to be working on the budget this coming week, so in a week or so, I should know whether or not I'm going to have to hit up old contacts in local agencies for a road patrol job. If I do, at least it will probably make for an increase in the number of stories for blog fodder :p

Hope everyone is doing good out there, and stay safe.

Casey

View from the Porch

2010-01-31T13:19:00.004-05:00

No, not that porch, my porch. Well, actually from by back deck, but you get the idea :)

As you can see, we've had a bit of winter weather here at Casa de Casey. It started Friday afternoon, on the way home from work. About five miles or so North of town, I started seeing snow falling, and the farther I went, the more obvious it became that snow had been falling for a while. I called Goose, to let him know what he faced when he finally got shut of the office, and then called my wife to make sure she and the kids were getting home ok.

I do that, because as I've pointed out here before, winter weather in the South, is not at all like what our neighbors to the North think of when they imagine snowfall.

This started off benignly enough. It'd been warm the days before, so the snow wasn't sticking to any of the pavement, but was accumulating nicely on anything that didn't have vehicles traveling over it. The snow itself was a bit unusual, at least at my house. Normal snow here is large wet flakes, that clump together and make a mess of everything. This snow on the other hand, was fine and dry. I remarked on it to my wife, because it was glittering in the light as it fell, which is what marked it as unusual. We ended up with about four inches of snow, which isn't bad at all, until Saturday morning came around. That's when the sleet started. What you see on the railing there is about four inches of snow, compressed down to about three inches thickness by the weight of the full inch of sleet on top of it.

This makes for dangerous conditions outside. The roads were wet, from where the snow melted on them Friday afternoon, and then froze solid as temperatures dipped below freezing overnight. Snow piled up on top of the frozen roadway, and was then compressed by the sleet falling on top of it. Couple that with the fact that temperatures hovered right around freezing all day yesterday, which means it was not warm enough to melt the sleet away, but just enough to make it stick together, and you have quite the ice sandwich to attempt to drive on.

Needless to say, we decided to stay home this weekend. I got a fire going in the woodstove, and the wife got a pot of beef stew going. The kids had fun playing in the snow and sleet, and a generally good day was had by all.

Of course, today, the temps are well above freezing, pushing close to 40 degrees, and everything is melting fast, just as it should be here in the South. :) A nice snowy weekend, but clearing off in time that the morning commute tomorrow should be difficult at all, aside from the odd patch of black ice on the road where trees have shaded it from getting sunlight today.

The picture above was taken this morning, about an hour or so after sunrise, before the temperature started rising. That low hanging cloud off to the South is obscuring a view of the nearest small town, about ten miles away or so. You can see it easily on a clear day.

The bird feeder is a gift from my In-Laws. It holds black sunflower seeds, and, so far, has not been given over to the predations of the local squirrel population. We normally see a variety of birds at it, Dark-Eyed Juncos, Tufted Titmice, Goldfinches, Carolina Wrens, House Finches, Carolina Chickadees, Purple Finches, and the odd Nuthatch or two.

The reason it's so free of snow accumulation in this picture, is that we've recently had a new visitor to the feeder, a Red-Bellied Woodpecker. Now we have a number of woodpeckers in our area, the Pileated, the Downy, the Flicker, and the Yellow-Bellied SapSucker, however, this is the first time I've ever seen a Red-Bellied, and the first time I've ever seen a woodpecker at the feeder. We see them all the time on the trees around the yard, but never on the feeder itself. A first time for everything I guess.

Hope you're all having an enjoyable weekend, I think I'm going to take a nap now :)

Casey

Simple Cooking

2010-01-24T22:20:00.003-05:00

I'm sure most people have heard of this, but for those who haven't, here's a quick and easy dinner, and my own twist on it.

Get your oven warming up to about 400 degrees or so, and then start getting your meal together. We used bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts. Rubbed them down with a little salt and pepper, and slipped a couple of thin lemon slices underneath the skin. Then laid then out on a wire cooling rack, like used for cookies or other baked goods. Then took a casserole dish, about 8x12 I think, and put Green Beans in that, spread in a thin layer on the bottom. Then set the wire rack on top of the dish. This way, as the chicken cooks, fats and juices drip down onto the beans as they cook, keeping them moist, and adding a nice flavor. The juice from the lemon slices keeps the chicken breasts themselves moist, while allowing the skin to become nice and crisp :)

Now, as I side dish, I prefer root vegetables. We used potatoes, and rutabagas, but you could use whatever you have on hand. Dice those up into about 1" chunks, and toss them into a bowl. I like onions, so I sliced some, and added them to the mix. Then sprinkled a little salt and pepper, and whatever herb you prefer, we usually use Rosemary, and toss the contents of the bowl to spread the spices out. Then add in a tablespoon or so of olive oil, and toss it all again until everything is coated, spread it out on a baking pan, and add it to the oven as well.

It's been my experience, that the chicken breasts, if of a good size, take about 45 minutes or so to cook all the way through. The root vegetables take about 10 minutes less to become nicely cooked, and crisp on the outside, while caramelizing the onions. This works out well as you can prepare the chicken and get it in the oven, then do the root vegetables and get them in the oven, and it all comes out at about the same time.

There's never any beans or roots left, but we always throw on an extra chicken breast. The flavors in the breast translate really well when using the leftover chicken to make chicken salad a day or two later.

There you have it. Simple, easy, and very much a comfort meal.

Enjoy!

Casey

A peek into the Justice System, post-conviction...

2010-01-23T21:08:00.003-05:00

Here's a story for you, about an incident that occurred recently in which I was involved. Names, of course, have been changed, not to protect the innocent, because let's face it, they're convicts, not a whole lot of innocence there, but mostly to protect my job. This closely involves Partner, mainly because this chucklehead is on his caseload, I was just along for the ride. Now, Goose will likely make a post about this himself at some point, but he's still a bit hot under the collar about it, and it will probably be a while before he cools off enough to write about it.

This case did not originally belong to Goose, but to another Agent who has left our dreary environs to join the Feds. More power to her, however, it leaves people like Goose and myself to pick up in the middle of cases that are in violation, and pending a hearing.

This particular case is a Parole case. The Parolee in question, let's call him 'Bobby', got mixed up in various and sundry things back in the 80's, which culminated in a Burglary conviction, which resulted in a Life sentence. Now, we all know that Life in prison, only means incarceration until you reach the point where you become eligible for Parole. This occurred for Bobby(hehe, I typed Booby there and had to fix it :p ) in the early to mid 90's. Bobby was Paroled, and out in the world for less than a year if I remember correctly. At which point he got involved in some more drama, drug related I believe, had his Parole revoked, and was sent back to prison.

Fast forward another decade or so, and Bobby becomes eligible for Parole again, and is again granted Parole. See, granted Parole, even though he's already been given a shot at it once, and screwed it up. Anyway, Bobby gets out, and starts off ok for the first year or so. He has trouble securing gainful employment, and hence falls behind on his monies. As an aside, anyone under supervision in the state of South Carolina is required to pay a monthly Supervision Fee. Usually in the amount of $50, though I've seen it both higher and lower. That Supervision Fee is in addition to any other fines, court costs, or Restitution ordered by the court, or the Parole Board. So, when an offender gets a certain number of payments behind on his monies, our policy requires us to issue a citation. It's just like it sounds, though it may not be blue like the ticket a patrol officer writes, it alleges violations, and directs the offender to appear for a hearing at a given place and time.

Anyway, Bobby gets himself a citation for monies, and I believe a failed drug test and a missed report. After this, Bobby decides he'd be better off if he just stopped reporting to his Agent all together, and falls off the face of the map. After a couple of months of being unable to locate him, a warrant is issued for his arrest for Absconding Supervision, and placed on file with the local Sheriff's Office, and NCIC. A while after that, Bobby gets stopped for something innocuous, has his name run for wants and warrants, and wins the big prize. Silver Jewelry and an all expenses paid trip to the local extended stay Graybar Hotel. While incarcerated at the Graybar, Bobby goes through a preliminary hearing, in which the hearing officer decides his case should be forwarded to the Parole Board, with a recommendation to Revoke his Parole, and place him as a ward of the State once again.

Bobby is served with a Notice to Appear at the hearing, though we will personally transport him if he is incarcerated at the time of the hearing. Bobby makes bond, and decides he really doesn't want to go to a hearing where he believes he will get tossed back in prison again, so he takes off, again. Once he misses the hearing, a Failure to Appear warrant is issued for his arrest. He is picked up fairly quickly, incarcerated at the local Graybar once again, and a new hearing is scheduled for him.

Now, I don't know how they do things in your state, but here in Carolina, the Parole Board is located in the state capitol, and they certainly aren't going to sully themselves by actually entering a prison, so they hold hearings via video conference, at certain satellite facilities located across the state, all of which are secured within state run penal institutions. Since there are a large number of cases to be heard by the board, both applications for Parole, and hearings for Revocations, they break the board up into 3-member panels for most of the Hearings, and the full board usually only hears cases regarding Parole for violent offenders.

Bobby's case goes in front of a panel board. Goose and I are involved at this point, Goose because Bobby has been reassigned to his caseload, and myself because we're partners, and it takes two to transport. So we head over to the Graybar, hook Bobby up in waist chains and shackles, and transport him to the nearest facility that acts as a satellite for Parole hearings. Well good Lord, you'd have thought it was old home week when we walked in with Bobby. He'd apparently spent his most recent decade of incarceration at this particular facility, and was well liked by the majority of staff there. Everyone was smiling, and telling him they had a spot already reserved for him if he wanted his old job back. Unfortunately, or fortunately I guess, depending on your perspective, the 3-member panel couldn't come to an agreement regarding Bobby's fate, and so his case was forwarded to a hearing of the full board.

We transport Bobby back to the Graybar in our county, drop him off, and chalk it up as a day wasted. Days later, Bobby makes bond and is out again. Wait, perhaps you didn't catch that, Bobby made Bond, on a Failure to Appear warrant. Wrap you mind around that one if you can. Anyway, Bobby gets to spend Christmas and New Years with his family. His hearing in front of the full board is scheduled for this past Wednesday.

Now, Bobby has been doing pretty ok since he made bond, it's only a few weeks, but he's reporting to us on a weekly basis, and doesn't seem inclined to take off and run again. As his hearing date approaches, we go to check to see if he's going to able to arrange his own transportation to the hearing, or if he would like to ride with us. Wonder of wonders, Bobby is back in jail. The Saturday before his hearing in front of the full Parole Board, Bobby gets picked up on new charges of Burglary and Larceny. So once again, we will be picking him up at the Graybar, and transporting him to the hearing.

The fateful day arrives, and we take Bobby down for what we feel will be a one-way trip to prison. I mean, come on, the guy is a convicted felon, for Burglary, has a citation, a warrant for Absconding Supervision, and a warrant for Failure to Appear, as well as pending charges that include a Burglary!! The very crime he is out on Parole for!! Several of Bobby's relatives show up for his hearing, to speak on his behalf to the board. One of them is his brother, a Pastor of a small, Protestant church located in one of the worst neighborhoods in town. Interestingly enough, Bobby's brother, the Pastor, is also on speaking terms with each and every member of the current Parole Board. Now, whether or not those relationships had any effect on the outcome, I don't know, one can only conjecture. I do know that the 'discussion', where the board members discuss the merits of the case amongst themselves, went on for an abnormally long time, and became quite heated, with voices raised to an uncivil level. Suffice it to say that about 30 minutes later, the Parole Examiner exits the room with his jaw somewhere South of his toes, to inform us that the Board had reached it's decision. That decision being to allow Bobby to remain out in the community, on Parole, and with no punitive action taken for either his violations listed on the citation and warrants, or the pending charges, other than the money he spent on bond, and the time he spent in the Graybar prior to making bond..

We transport Bobby back to the local Graybar, where he will still have to make bond on his pending charges, and once again, consider our day wasted. I will admit though, that the whole time we were transporting Bobby back to the Graybar, I was considering taking off with him to Vegas, cause that kind of luck just shouldn't be wasted.

So there you have it, a peek into one instance of our criminal justice system, after someone has been convicted. Is it any wonder that alcoholism rates are so high among law enforcement officers? You play by all the rules, make an airtight case, and someone else comes along, throws that case out the window, and pulls a judgment out Lord knows where. It's like a big old slap in the face. Not only to us, and the other officers involved, but to each and every person out on Parole or Probation, who struggles to obey the rules so that they can stay out in the community, and then has someone who does the exact opposite, and still gets to stay out in the community. It makes them wonder why they work so hard to stay straight.

Till next time, stay safe...

Casey

Lazy in Massachusetts

2009-12-28T20:38:00.002-05:00

So, I've had the whole week off while I've been in the VolksRepublik for the last week visiting with the In-Laws. I've thought several times about posting, maybe throwing in a picture of two for the non-believers, but, I'm basically a lazy guy when I'm on vacation. So I didn't. I'll try to make up for some of that here in the near future, but thought I'd go ahead and fill you in on my holidays. First off, I hope all of yours were happy, and that you got exactly what you wanted, or at least, what you deserved :)

We drove on up to Charlotte last weekend to catch our flight into Yankee-Land. I, for one, had no idea it would be that crazy at the airport, almost a full week before Christmas. Apparently, the time doesn't matter, as long as it's the Saturday before Christmas. The airport was absolutely packed, and we stood in a line for almost an hour, just waiting to check in our bags and get our boarding passes. Though there was entertainment while we waited. Directly in front of us in line stood a couple. The gentleman was probably mid to late 40s, his companion a few years younger. The gentleman was dressed in a nice suit, a little flashy for my tastes with the silk and the bold color choices, but what really made the outfit, was the floor-length, grey fur coat he was wearing. I'm not talking a coat with a fur collar and cuffs, I mean beautiful grey fur top to bottom. It was like straight out of a 70's blacksploitation movie. The entertainment part came next. Do you know how hard it is to keep two small children under 4 years old from reaching out and 'petting' the 'pretty'?? Well, I certainly do now, and let me tell you, it was exhausting. But to be honest, that was the hardest part. The flight was smooth, the kids behaved, and everything went well. The only hiccup at all was dealing with TSA in Charlotte. Some woman who really shouldn't be in a position where she has to deal with people, got her panties all in a wad because I didn't push my little bin far enough into the machine. While I was trying to wrangle a 3 year old and a 19 month old as my wife was getting her own stuff into her bin. This led her to pull us off to the side, so that she could force us to open up my 19 month old's sippy cup of apple juice, which she was drinking from(!), so they could wave the sniffer over it and make sure it wasn't some sort of liquid explosive. Absolutely ridiculous behavior, from someone who should not be in a position of authority over a turnip, much less, honest citizens.

So we land in Taxachusetts, and make the drive out to the In-Laws on Cape Ann, bout an hour or so North and East of Boston. The temp there, is hovering right at about 30 degrees....Fahrenheit...and it was the high temp for the day!! Bad news, storm forecast to blow in that night. We get settled in, have a good evening, and toddle off to bed. I wake up the next morning, or should I say I was woken up by my 3 year old wanting to snuggle at about 0600. That lasts for maybe 20 minutes or so before all the squirming gets to be too much, and we just go ahead and get up and get the day started. I look out the window.....not good. 6+ inches of snow on the ground, still snowing heavily, and not predicted to end any time soon. I see shoveling in my future. My Father In Law confirms shoveling, but states it won't begin until after lunch. I watch the approaching hour with dread. You have to understand, I'm a good Southern Boy, and to me, snow means sitting tight for a day or so, it'll melt and go away. The biggest problem will be power outages from all the ice building up on trees, causing them to fall and break power lines.

When they say snow up north, they don't mean the heavy, wet, stuff the glops on your windshield and forms slush on the roads. (as an aside, whenever it snows down south, you almost always see cars in the ditches, and often as not, it's someone from up north who thinks they know how to drive in snow, they don't realize that in the south, an inch of snow on the ground means a quarter inch of ice underneath it, and there's no driving on that crap) The snow falling that day, was light, dry, fluffy, and plentiful. Plentiful meaning that by the time we got out there after lunch, there were between 12 and 14 inches on the ground, drifts of two to three feet, and still snow falling. Here's where the real craziness kicks in. I was standing knee deep in snow, trying to shovel off a clear spot to stand so that I could shovel snow, while it was still snowing! I don't know about you, but that's just unnatural in my book.

3 hours plus of shoveling, and you'd think the driveway would be clear. You'd be wrong. There was another three quarters of an inch on the drive that had fallen while I was shoveling, but I left that where it lay. I thought it was particularly tortuous, that might wife and Mother In Law bundled up the girls and brought them out to play in the snow while I was shoveling it. They got to go back inside when they got cold, I on the other hand, got to keep on shoveling :/

Aside from that, it was a great trip. I kept meaning to get on and make a post, but things kept getting in the way, usually either small children, or, after they went to bed at night, bottles that needed emptying. No apologies, I enjoyed myself immensely :)

One note, we flew back this past Saturday, the day after Christmas, and the day after the attempted airline bombing. The staff at Logan airport in Boston were exemplary. The only delay was because of weather affecting the flight coming into Boston, so that we were about a half hour late in boarding and taking off. Even then, they somehow made up that time while in the air, so that we landed at Charlotte at the originally scheduled time. Both the airline staff and the TSA employees at Logan were courteous and helpful, and restored me somewhat after my TSA experience in Charlotte.

Over all, a great trip, and I hope you all enjoyed your holiday as much as I did mine.

Casey

Concealed Carry Considerations...

2009-11-28T20:34:00.002-05:00

Certain issues are rarely discussed. I notice when I read books, and I read a great deal, or watch TV, which I also seem to do a great deal, certain things are never covered. To whit, bodily functions. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but it's fairly rare that your read a novel, watch a movie or television program(aside from a crude comedy) where they mention the main characters sitting on the john. So here's a question, possibly taboo, that deals with an issue that anyone who carries a weapon, concealed or not, has probably dealt with, or if they haven't, should give it some serious thought.

What do you do with your carry piece, when you're on the crapper?

I ask this, because I see a lot of holsters designed for concealed carry, that are not retention holsters, and rely strictly on friction to keep a revolver or pistol in place. Most all duty holsters these days have some sort of positive retention device, that requires an action to be accomplished before the gun will be released from the holster. Be it a simple thumb snap on a Level 1, or the litany of digital gymnastics required to get into some of the highest level retention holsters, something actively holds the weapon in place. Of course, that's just duty holsters for people in uniform. I've seen plainclothes folk who don't use retention holsters. I've also seen duty weapons go skittering across a tiled floor when some one was in a rush to get down to business.

After the first time I saw that, I made sure that the holsters I used for carry off-duty, had some sort of retention. At minimum, the ever popular thumb break. Now, with the way they're making things out of Kydex and what not, I've seen, and even own one, those holsters that are form shaped so that the trigger guard snaps into a detent inside the holster, and requires either a hearty pull, or a thumb pushing down on the inner edge of the holster as you draw to get the detent to release the weapon.

I generally use a retention holster, affixed to a paddle. That way, it's easy on and off, without doing the jiggle dance trying to get it on my belt, and the belt through the loops behind my hip and then in front, etc., etc.. It also makes it easy to use the same holster for field duty, office duty, court duty, extraditions, etc., because I don't have to worry about whether the belt will hold up the holster without rolling, as the paddle slips inside my waistline. This set-up, also works effectively for the aforementioned pit stops.

Granted, things are different when you're at home, but let's face the facts, it's when you're out in the field, forced to grab something quick from a questionable establishment(Snowman's reference to a Choke N' Puke in the movie Smokey and the Bandit comes to mind), that you're going to have to hit the crapper, possibly urgently, in an unfamiliar setting. So what are you going to do with that weapon when the time comes?

I generally try to avail myself of a Handicapped stall. I'm guessing Handicapped isn't the appropriately PC term anymore, but I figure you'll understand what I mean. They generally have a handrail on at least one side, if not both sides of the stall. I've found that a holster with a paddle snugs right down into the gap between the rail and the wall quite nicely, and is secure. Not that I expect to be assaulted when in the crapper, but it'd be hell to be sitting there, and see an arm come over the top of the stall door, and snag that duty belt, rig and all, and lift it off the hook on the back of the door, and not really be in a position to hop up and do anything about it. I've also noticed, usually on uniform guys, that weapon flopping loose as pants and duty belt are around the ankles. If someone knew the trick to getting a weapon out of a particular holster, all it would take would be reaching down and grabbing it. By the time the 'sitter' realized what was happening, it would be too late.

So, what do you do with your piece when you're sitting on the porcelain throne, in an unfamiliar setting? If you haven't thought about it, you should, as the situation is bound to arise, sooner or later. Probably sooner if you eat a lot of low-end food prepared and served by folks that are probably my regulars :p

Take care all,

Casey

Work is affecting my vision....

2009-11-20T21:21:00.002-05:00

Not that I need glasses or anything, but I've come to realize that my work has definitely colored how I look at the world around me, and those within it.

I came to this realization, after an incident that occurred while eating lunch in our break room the other day. One of the other agents brought some magazines in and left them in the break room. I don't recall the title, but it seems to be a magazine geared towards women, and especially mothers who are home makers. At least, that's how it seems to me, I could be way off base as to their target audience. Anyway, there was an article written in it, and the woman writing it was talking about how whenever she got ready to take her kids out, she always thought about how dangerous it is outside the home. I'm thinking that's probably something that's good to be aware of. Then I read the next sentence, where she listed the dangers that concern her and make her nervous about taking her kids out. Germy door handles, car exhaust fumes, dog poo in the park,and ultra-violet radiation.

I was stunned. I pointed it out to my fellow brown bagger, Goose, and he expressed sentiments similar to my own. I'm thinking car exhaust....you need to be worried about the tweaking meth-head on the corner with the rusty steak knife in his waist band. Dog poo in the park..what about the sex offender sitting on the bench off by himself who's nervous tic indicates he's ready to re-offend. UV rays...what about the nice looking young guy walking along the side-walk who actually crazy, off his meds, and the shallow breathing indicates he's about a hair away from losing it.

The list goes on and on. My wife thinks I'm being dramatic when I see a car stop on the road in front of our house, slowly back up twenty feet, pull forward again, and go back and forth several more times, and I step to the door with a gun in hand as I peer out to see what's going on. It occurs to me, that she knows about the guy who lives four doors down from us that is under supervision because he killed someone(because I told her about it so she would be aware), but I don't tell her most of the rest of it. She doesn't know about the guy who lives less than a mile from our house(which is pretty close out here in the sticks) that's a convicted child molester. She doesn't know about the red-necked dirt bag that cooks methamphetamine less than 4 miles from our house, who I'm assisting the Feds to build a case against. She doesn't know that one of the guys who I sent to prison for 8 years, has family three miles down the road from us, who know where I live, because they happened to drive by one day while I was working in the yard. She doesn't know any of the hundreds of disgusting things I know about the people living within a 10 or 15 mile radius of our home.

I deal with the dregs of society every day, and I know not only what people are capable of, but how many of them there are in my area. I also know, that living out in the sticks, there's one Deputy on duty in my area most times of the day or night. If I were to get really lucky with a 9-1-1 call, he might be only 5 or 6 minutes away, and any further back up, at least half again that time. He's a decent guy, and a good cop, but he can't be everywhere at once. That's why I approach anything suspicious with a gun in hand. As a Boy Scout, many, many years ago, I learned the old maxim, "It's better to have something and not need it, than to need it, and not have it." This goes doubly for a means of protection, when you don't know if the guy slowing down at your mailbox is just lost, or looking for a victim.

My wife thinks it's drama, I think it's caution, but it does occur to me, that a few years ago, before I started this job, I might have just walked up there to see what was going on with the people in that car. Now, I only go to the door and observe, with gun in hand, until the car leaves, or I figure out what's going on and can make a further decision as to what to do.

So while maybe not everyone is a criminal, with nefarious thoughts or plans, I tend to look at most people I don't know, as potential criminals, and assess from there. Definitely a change brought on by the job. Not sure if I should try to do anything about it, or if I even want to. Better to be too cautious, then not enough.....

Take care all, and stay safe...

Casey

Earwig...

2009-11-16T12:36:00.002-05:00

Not your normal earwig of a popular song, but one from being a parent. I have the theme song from Dinosaur Train stuck in my head. You can get a listen here, if you're interested. It's a PBS show, which basically teaches kids about dinosaurs, and life, all at the same time.

I have to admit, between a questionable guy, in a purple dinosaur suit, singing about free love, and an animated baby Tarandon, singing a song about how everybody poops, I'll take the poop every time :)

Heck, if there have to be kid shows on the TV on Saturday mornings, it may as well be ones that I can enjoy too :) And the tunes are catchy too :)

Casey

Wierdness in the air last night....

2009-11-08T14:00:00.002-05:00

Or....

Men In Black and their Nifty Toys....

Hehe, so last night, I step out for a smoke. I wander out into the driveway and am gazing up at the stars in a clear sky, when I hear a bit of rotor thump. Now, I'm no expert when it comes to flying machines. I'm not one of those who can sit around drinking a cup of coffee, hear the tiniest bit of engine noise in the air, and be able to identify what it is, how fast it's moving, and what direction it's going.

I did, however, grow up on and around small airfields. My grandfather was a pilot, and had a small, grass strip runway, so I've been around small craft most of my life, and am familiar with how they move, etc.

Anyway, I hear this bit of rotor thump from a helicopter, look around, and catch sight of an aircraft off to my north. I assume it was a helicopter, or rotary-winged aircraft for you sticklers, mainly because of the rotor thump I heard. It being pretty dark outside, what with it being night and all, I couldn't get a silhouette to look at and identify. The first thing I noticed that was odd, was that it had a red light on the nose, with an amber/orange blinking light flashing underneath and to the rear. I don't know what configuration of lights aircraft are supposed to run, but I don't recall ever seeing solid red and flashing orange on an aircraft as a kid.

The second thing that struck me as being odd, and this was really odd, was that as I was watching it fly almost due South towards me, I suddenly stopped hearing the rotor thump. I listened for a moment, and realized that I could hear, faintly, an engine running, but could no longer hear the thump of the rotors. Me being a fairly curious guy, I decided I'd watch this thing to see what else was going to happen.

So I watch this craft come towards me, closer and closer. I notice that it's fairly high up in the air. Most of the time when I see helicopters flying over the mountains, they're normally only clearing the mountains by a couple of hundred feet or so. This one last night was easily over eight hundred feet up, and probably closer to a thousand feet up. Now, that could be strictly because of the darkness and not taking chances, but I noticed it, so thought I'd mention it as well. So I watch this thing, heading towards the mountain I live on, hearing the engine noise get slowly clearer and more distinct, much as you can hear a car better the closer it gets.

As it gets closer to the mountain, probably a mile or less North of my position, it suddenly bears off to the West, and does a little curly-cue maneuver at about the spot where it looks like it would be over a small university ball field that's a few miles from my house. The little maneuver takes a few seconds, then this thing starts bee-lining due East from that position. I stand there watching it go across the sky North of my position, and suddenly realize that the lights have changed on it. It no longer has a steady red and flashing orange, but now has a steady green on the nose, and flashing white underneath. It retains this light scheme for the remainder of the time I can see it.

It heads East for a couple of miles maybe, and starts swinging back South, at about the point that it would start crossing over a nearby rural highway. As it starts swinging South, it looks like the southern movement, is just part of an arc described as they're moving West. This time, I'm looking at it as it moves South of my house, and it comes to a stop, hovering, about where I'd guesstimate it to be above a local, community ball field.

Interestingly enough, as it's hovers for a few seconds, I suddenly hear a half dozen or so rotor thumps, which disappear again, as the aircraft starts heading due North again. It passes maybe half a hundred yards West of my position, and of course, way on up, so I can only ever see the lights, and hear the hum of the engine. I continues to watch it as it headed North, until I lost it over the crest of the next mountain. This whole observation lasted probably ten minutes, or less.

I have to admit, that it was a fairly odd experience. I've never seen anything like it. As I mentioned, I'm no expert, but have we got helicopters in the air that somehow can silence their rotor thump, but not their engine noise? If so, could someone point me in the right direction to learn a bit about them?

Hope everyone is having a good weekend!

Casey

Name that book!

2009-11-04T21:05:00.002-05:00

I'm reading a trilogy of books right now, The Fionavar Tapestry(hmm, can't figure out how to underline...oh well), by Guy Gavriel Kay. I'm reading them because a friend gifted me with them saying that I might like them, as they are about a group of college students that get magically transported to a fantasy land.

I immediately jumped on the offer, as I flashed back to a book I read as a young lad, lo these many years ago. Alas, these books do not contain the story a read mumblety-years ago. I'm about halfway through the first one, and while it is intriguing, I keep getting distracted trying to remember the story I read so long ago.

So I thought I'd throw it out on the net, on the off chance that someone that stops by here might have read that story, and can tell me what the name was, so that I can track down a copy of it for myself.

What I remember of it is only vague, and a little sketchy. It would have been early, early 1980s, not too terribly long after D&D made it's appearance, and grabbed the imaginations of kids(of all ages) like a bear trap. I seem to remember that the premise was that of a group of college age students, who got together fairly regular for a fantasy gaming group, run by someone a little older than themselves, possibly a professor type. The DM somehow figured out a way to transport the group into the D&D-type game they were playing, with the members of the group becoming the characters that they played. Two things stand out in my, admittedly hazy, memory. One, the DM gathered various sundries that would approximate the gear their characters would use, and stored it in wooden trunks, one for each player/character, to be transported with them. Secondly, and possibly most identifying to someone who has read the story, I recall that the player who played a thief-type character, was greatly into the role-playing aspect of the game. Consequently, the character he played had only one hand, or maybe it was one eye, I don't recall exactly which, but I do know the player was initially horrified after the transfer, to find himself so handicapped when he became his character.

Does any of that ring any bells with anyone? I've read so much fantasy since then, that I've totally lost anything else that might have been specific to that book, but I do remember liking it at the time. Of course, it could be absolute crap writing, but to a mumblety-teen year old boy it was amazing, and got me to branch out from reading almost exclusively westerns, to almost exclusively Fantasy/Sci-Fi genre.

If anyone had the faintest idea of what that might be, please, please, please let me know, so I can kill this niggle-worm, and track down a copy of the book for myself :)

Thanks,

Casey

Halloween!

2009-10-31T17:00:00.003-04:00

Hope everyone is having a safe and happy Halloween!!

I have ended up being one of the Lucky 14! Well, not so much lucky, as unlucky. I don't get to spend this evening taking my kids out trick or treating, because I've drawn duty for tonight.

I don't hold such a big beef with it, because of what the duty itself is. I'll spend the next four hours or so, driving around the county, and knocking on doors of Sex Offenders houses. Our teams will be all over our county, as well as teams from every other county in the state doing the same thing in their counties. We'll all be out making sure that the Sex Offenders are in their houses, porch lights off, and no bowls of candy to entice small children into their homes.

So, since I'm going to be out there trying to make it a safer place for my kids, as well as every other kid in the area I'm assigned to, I think I'll do this duty without even complaining.(well, maybe just a little complaining, what's work without some bitching? :P )

As I said above, I hope you and yours are enjoying the holiday, and keeping it safe. I hope that it goes without saying not to let the little ones at the candy until after you've looked it over.

Happy Halloween!!

Casey

Random Revolver thoughts and questions....

2009-10-28T11:18:00.002-04:00

Just a quickie while on a break at work, but had a couple of thoughts regarding revolvers and was wondering if anyone knew the answer?

First off, why is it that Single Action revolvers invariably have the loading gate on the right side of the revolver frame, while Double Action revolvers have the entire cylinder swing out to the left side of the frame?

Secondly, are there, or have there ever been, single or double action revolvers with that loading action reversed?

Appreciate any help in getting this little niggling thought answered :)

Casey

Shooty Goodness!!

2009-10-24T21:40:00.002-04:00

I really don't get out to go shooting as often as I like, or as often as I should. With two kids and a mortgage, all on a public servant's salary, it just often not in the budget. Thankfully, there's one shooting event that I always budget for. Each year, we have a locally organized Thin Blue Line tournament that not only gives us all a chance to go shoot, but raises money for various charities. You can read about the tournament and organizers, supporters, etc. here.

It's always a great time, all sorts of wild scenarios designed for us to go through. There have been scenarios that involved airplanes on the ground, a hostage situation on a school bus, and one year, being inside an ambulance when the victims rivals showed up to make sure the job was done. Great stuff all around, no matter how you look at it. This year was no exception.

I meet up with my partner at about 0530 yesterday morning, and we head to the office, where we meet the third member of our shooting team, and then head off to pick up the fourth and last member of our team. We arrive at the range at probably 0730 or so, and go through the registration process, and start wishing we'd brought more coffee.

At about 0820 or so, we hear the call to gather round, and we all amble over towards the command center to listen to the man in charge, and find out what stage we're starting off on. The range we're at is, in and of itself, awesome. They've basically taken a giant hill, and cut giant 'bays' into it's perimeter. This means that as long as you don't get crazy and shoot at the sky, and don't violate the 180 degree rule, you can shoot with impunity, and not worry about a stray shot getting anywhere near anyone else. I think the smallest division between bays is a wall of dirt and red clay 20 feet wide, and a minimum 10 feet tall at the outer point, going to over 40 feet high at the rear of the bay where it cuts into the hill. It's a perfect setup for multiple teams to all be shooting at once.

All of the Range Officers were volunteers. A great bunch of folks who, if I understand correctly, are all IDPA people, that use the range for their shoots one a month or so. They were great to work with, though they do have a rule or three that seemed a little odd, and took some getting used to. For example, at the end of a stage, or string, or whatever you like to call it, I'm used to holding my pistol up in my right hand, magazine removed, and slide locked back. That way, the RO can verify that the weapon is clear. A tap on the shoulder signifies that the RO has checked your weapon, and you can release the slide and holster up. The IDPA RO's had us demonstrate an empty chamber, then put the slide forward, and pull the trigger/drop the hammer/whatever your gun needs to not be cocked before we holstered up. To be honest, I can't really see the point of the extra stuff. If you've already verified that the chamber and mag well are empty, why have the slide forward and firing pin released? It wasn't even really an inconvenience, and only added a second or two to coming off of the stage, just seemed kind of odd to me, probably because it was my first experience with it.

We get off to our first stage and get the first shots off at about 0900. Our first stage was pretty straight forward, a few stationary targets, some behind civilian/no-shoot targets, a few moving targets who bounced out from behind cover and back again, and had to keep moving and utilizing cover as it became available with targets neutralized. About 5 minutes or so into our first stage, it started to drizzle rain. Usually, when you're doing things outside, and it starts raining, people start complaining. Not so at this event. As long as there's not lightning, we keep going, and everyone is in high spirits. I must admit to doing halfway decent on those first couple of stages. :)

Between stages, I dash back to the cruiser, and grab my rain gear, and it promptly stops raining :-/ I dutifully carried my rain gear from one stage to the next, even to the lunch break and back, and it dutifully got drier, and hotter throughout the day. Around the last two stages or so, it actually started to cool off, just a bit, and when we finished out last stage, at about 1400 or so, I stashed my rain gear in the cruiser, and then went to join the rest of the guys who were done to swap tales and catch up with the folks you don't see as often as you should.
It promptly started to rain.....

It wasn't bad, and didn't last too long, but it left me wondering if the mere fact that I was carrying rain gear during the day didn't hold off the rain. In any event, fun was had by all. Thankfully, there were door prizes and raffles to try and win, because there's no way I was winning for shooting. The majority of these guys that compete are all SWAT team guys, who get more trigger time in a month than I get in a year, and that includes hunting seasons too. Luckily for me, I got a door prize, and came out with a sweet knife. Donated by BlackHawk, along with a number of other prizes. One of the guys I know won a sweet, special TBL edition, 1911 style .45 from Para-Ordnance, another sponsor of the shoot.

All in all, it was a great day, with great people, and we got to shoot until we were startign wear blisters on trigger fingers!(or so the rumor-mill says :P) I swear, I need a job where I just get to play and shoot guns all the time....I'd never come home :p

Hope all you folks out there are having a great weekend, I'm off to nurse an ache or two that reminds me I'm not a twenty-something anymore :p

Casey

H1N1 - Swine Flu

2009-10-21T21:09:00.002-04:00

I wonder if that title will engender as many hits as one talking about the Blue-Footed Booby?

So, I thought that with the last post, talking about the crud, we were just about over things. Apparently, not so much. My wife stays home with my oldest who was sick, and had some rough days, but troopers through it. Then my youngest got sick, but was doing ok. Just as my wife is starting to feel ill, my youngest gets a little worse. Fever spikes to just over 103 degrees, so off to the Doc we go. The wife is now feeling it full on, so I take the youngest while she bundles back into bed.

The Doc checks the youngest out, ears clean, lungs clear, fever down, lets do a swab and check it. 1o minutes later, she comes back waving a little strip around, and says that my youngest is positive for the flu. Not only is she positive for the flu, but she's positive for Type A flu. Apparently, here in Carolina, upwards of 95% of Type A flu, is H1N1, also known as the Swine Flu, late of main stream media infamy. Doc says nothing to worry about, everything looks good. There'll be a cough in the next few days, my oldest already has that, and it should last for a week or so, but no worries. If the fever spikes back up, then come back, because that may be indicative of a secondary infection.

The Doc downplays the drama, it is just the flu after all, regardless of what the main stream media would have you believe. However, when I call my mother, who is concerned about her grandbabies, and she hears the words "swine flu", I was totally unprepared for the drama avalanche. Obviously, she watches a bit more television than I do. It took about 20 minutes of fast-talking, and explaining that it was just the flu, and the majority of deaths associated with H1N1 occurred in patients who either had a pre-existing medical conditions, or were in at 'at-risk' population, such as elderly, or with an auto-immune deficiency in some way shape or form. Then, a couple of hours later, we repeat the whole process, only with my In-laws, who also watch a bit more television than we suspected.

So the wife finally wakes up this afternoon, fever gone and on the mend. Both kids are doing much better, and eating dinner with us, and I'm mentioning how glad I am that I got off with a mild case of this thing last week. When my wife says that she doesn't think I've had it yet, that all that crap from last week was just a regular cold in her opinion. Then she asks why I'm sweating while eating my dinner, to which I reply that it got awfully hot in the last little bit. This receives a raised eyebrow, and an accusation..."you're getting it now".

Ughhh! I surely hope not. We had a nice, anti-sickness dinner tonight. Grilled cheese, and tomato soup with enough fresh cracked peppercorns and roasted garlic in it to kill most any bug....I hope. I guess we'll see how things stand in the morning. I seriously hope I'm not just now coming down with this thing. I'm supposed to shoot in a Thin Blue Line tournament on Friday, and that's going to be kind of difficult if I'm staggering around the course with a fever and hallucinating targets. Plus, I don't want to have to tell me team that they need to find a replacement shooter with just one day to find them.

Remember, the flu, as nasty as it is, isn't as bad as the drama queens would have you believe. Rest, lots of fluids, and consulting with your Doc for high fevers, or if you already have some issues going on, and you should be fine in a few days.

Casey

PS- I really hope I don't have to miss out on the shooting. Too bad you can't put the virus on the firing line.....

Going Green

2009-10-15T21:33:00.002-04:00

No. Not that kind of green. The kind associated with snot and phlegm.

I've been battling a round of colds and flu-like crud for a couple of weeks. Every time I think I'm getting over one, the next one starts. Comes from dealing on a daily basis, with people who's own personal hygiene, is not high on their list of priorities. Plus, add in multiple visits, to multiple different detention centers. Couple all of that with the fact that I also have two little ones in daycare, which is like the cage match arena for sniffles, colds, flus, and anything else that has ever even thought of being contagious, and you have one heck of a recipe for getting sick. Even with hand sanitizer in strategic locations, and well used, plus almost fanatic hand washing, it's almost inevitable.

I don't know that I mind so much, the little bugs I pick up from work, they're usually pretty quick. Feel bad for a day or two, then get rid of it and move on. However, the ones from daycare seem to be particularly virulent. One of the kids brings it home, and they pass it back and forth among each other, and my wife. I'm usually safe for about a week or so. I feel good at the beginning, but then begin to dread what's coming, because, apparently, getting kicked out of the bodies of my wife and children, seems to piss these bugs off. I get the same bug each of them has had for a couple of days, but only about five times worse than any of them ever had it.

Not that I'm making excuses for the lack of posting or anything, that's just laziness :p By the time I get the kids in bed at night, all I generally want to do is sit back, have a couple of beers, and read something while I wait for the early news so I can go to bed.

I do have a few new stories, nothing terribly wild, but a little fun here and there, and I'll try to get those posted in the next few weeks. Other than that, gearing up for Halloween, and already starting to think about Thanksgiving and Christmas plans...how about you?

I'm going to have another Yuengling, and see what other, more eloquent and loquacious bloggers have to say :)

Casey

Randomness

2009-09-14T20:52:00.002-04:00

Nothing earth shattering or deep to share, but a couple of random things going through my head.

First, having a water heater give up the ghost, and start spraying water downstairs, in the middle of your 3-year olds birthday party upstairs, is pretty much teh suq! Having my parents there to help keep things in order while I madly scrambled to shut off the water, release the pressure and drain the tank, and mop up the small pond in the basement, was a huge help. An even bigger help, while trying to figure out how we were going to pay for a new water heater, and have it installed, was my wife. She dug through some old paperwork, and found where I'd signed a contract with our water company over nine years ago. Said contract adds $2-3 per month to our water bill, but if anything happens to your water heater, they repair or replace it for free. Because it's free, it took two days to get it done, but $1500 and get it in tonight, or day after tomorrow, and we'll do it for free. Which would you pick?

Secondly, chicken thighs. They're fine when they come in a bucket from KFC, not my first choice, but fine nonetheless. We'd picked up a bag of frozen, boneless, skinless chicken thighs, inadvertently, thinking that we were getting the tenderloins which were on sale. Didn't notice the mistake until a week or so later when we went to pull some out of the freezer to cook them. Now, we've used thigh meat in various recipes, especially things like pot pies and stews, and it's always turned out well. However, it turns out, that you can't just cook these things up quickly, like you might a tenderloin, or boneless breast. Every time we've tried to do something quick with them, they've come out greasy and rubbery. If we cook them slow, they good, but quick, not so much. If you know any recipes for thighs, let me know, as I have a bag of them in the freezer.

The little pseudo RPG games you can download as apps for the iPhone are a little bit addicting. It's also kind of fun to screw with the little kiddies every now and then too :)

I've been trying to get my caseload numbers down recently. However, as of today, I have more people on my caseload than I had before I started getting rid of people. It's weird.

Speaking of weird, I recently attended a rather bizarre wedding ceremony. It was a combination of Judaism, Pseudo-Christianity, and alleged Native American traditions. I did learn something though. An open bar at the reception, makes up for a whole lot of uncomfortableness during the ceremony.

Lastly, there's an odd, addictive thrill, to watching people bid against each other, on stuff you're trying to get rid of on eBay. Makes you want to go through things and see what exactly you can live without :)

Hope everyone had a fairly decent Monday. It's beer-thirty here in Carolina.

Casey

Speaking of Idiots....

2009-09-10T14:34:00.002-04:00

I made an earlier post about an idiot I ran into, so of course, I immediately start running into more. This latest one was not one of mine, or even of our agency. I'd been sent down to the southern part of the state on an extradition, for a young knucklehead who took off running several years back. He got pulled over for a minor traffic infraction, and guess what popped up when they ran the standard NCIC Wants/Warrants on his name? Some people just don't seem to realize that once a warrant is issued for you, and placed onto NCIC, it's there forever, or, at least until you get picked up, and the warrant gets served.

But I digress, the young knucklehead we picked up is not the focus of this particular tale, only a sidebar. When we got back with him, and went to take him in front of the Magistrate to have a bond set, there were several local deputies ahead of us. Seems the boys were out running a prostitution sting, and were keeping the magistrate hopping. The magistrate was busy enough that she was getting paperwork ready on half a dozen at a time, and then having them all approach the bench to have bonds set, going from one to the next in turn. She went through the bonds for our guy, a single charge from a deputy, and several pick-ups from the sting all at once.

The interesting one, was the single charge from a deputy. He'd brought in a rather large fellow, I'd hazard a guess at 6'5"-6'6" and ~280-300 lbs., on a charge a CDV/HAN(Criminal Domestic Violence of a High and Aggravated Nature), for which the Magistrate set a bond of $35,000.00. Now that's a fairly substantial bond amount for your average working joe, married, with kids. You could tell from the way this particular joe was getting red in the face, and screwing his face up, that he took umbrage at having such a bond set for him. Unfortunately for him, the Magistrate noticed it too, and turned to him with a raised eyebrow to ask him if he had any questions, or if there was something he'd like to say.

As an aside, I have seen people who had a high bond set by a magistrate based solely on the charge, get that bond reduced by the magistrate, before it was officially set. They usually do this by speaking politely, and respectfully to the magistrate, though I have seen some do it in tears, about extenuating circumstances. Children that have to be taken care of, a job that must be worked so that the family can be provided for, an elderly parent or grandparent for whom they are the sole caregiver, that sort of thing. Then pointing out that there is just no way they can make that kind of bond, and could the magistrate please reconsider it, so that they may at least have a chance of making bond, and providing for their dependent. I've seen this ploy used half a hundred times or more, and seen it work less than half a dozen times.

Big fella didn't take that path with the evening magistrate though. He blew out a big breath, and started off in a voice that conveyed exactly how stupid he thought it was, and proceeded to tell the magistrate exactly what he thought. He pointed out that when he was booked on this same charge, with the same victim, at about this same time, last year, his bond was about a third of what it currently was. Then he flat out said that he thought it was stupid, that his bond should be so much higher now than it was then. All the while, the deputy who brought him in, is jerking on his elbow, trying to distract him, or at least get him to stop talking, and thereby digging the hole he was standing in any deeper. It did not work.

Nothing stopped the big fella, until the magistrate told him that if he didn't watch it, he was going to find himself in Contempt of Court. This had the opposite effect of what you might think, and instead of subsiding, he got even more animated. At which point the magistrate informed him that he was being disrespectful to the court, and to the other defendants on either side of him, and that if he kept it up, he would find himself jailed for 30 days, and another 30 on top of that if he kept going, and another 30 on top of that. Even this was not enough to dissuade the gentleman in question, who kept right on going. At this point, the magistrate said enough is enough, and informed him that if one more word came out of his mouth, she would find him in Contempt.

The various LEOs in the courtroom at the time all had the same stoneface expression on(funny I don't remember a class on that at the academy), but the eyes gave it away for each of them. Some trying not to laugh, some trying not to shake their head in disbelief, some trying not to hang their head in weariness. Even the other defendants were wincing, and trying to lean away from this guy, so as not to be associated with what was going on. The magistrate had already pulled out the little slip of paper that is the order for confinement for Contempt of Court, and was just waiting for him to lose it again. She didn't have to wait for long.

To be honest, I was inwardly wincing, and didn't keep track of exactly how many Contempt charges he acquired for himself. I think three, but who knows for sure, except him. The thing is, even if he had to wait for a Public Defender, he might have spent at most, 2-3 days in jail before he could get a Hearing for Reduction of Bond, and then gotten out. As it stands now, he's got at least 90 days as a guest of the county, and even then he still has to make the high bond before he can get out.

Here's the tip of the day, if you want to debate a charge, or a bond, or even just a point with an LEO, or a Magistrate, or an honest to goodness Circuit Court Judge, yelling in anger isn't the way to go, because they're not going to respond to your urge for a fight. They're doing a job, and while they have a lot of leeway in how they deal with someone, whether cutting them slack or not, if the person is being a jerk, there's a clearly defined set of rules on how to deal with that, and they don't have to go out of their way at all to follow them. I'm sure this guy is now sitting in a cell, blaming the magistrate who found him in contempt, the deputy who arrested him, and the woman who got him into trouble in the first place, and will never see that each and every step that day was his own to make, and willfully chosen.

Casey

The Idiocy is Staggering...

2009-09-06T20:23:00.002-04:00

So, the other day, my partner and I are out in the field going to get some Home Visits in to start off the month. We're going to try and get one in for a fellow agent, who no one has been able to catch at home. He's a bit of a 'special' case, so we definitely need to get an Agent in the house at some point, just to have a look around, and make sure there's nothing illegal going on in the house. We figure that the best time to catch him would be early in the morning, so even though our job is nominally 8-5, we both are in early enough, that we're out the door and on the road at 7 AM.

Fortune is with us, and as we turn on to the destination street, I can see the subject out front at the end of his driveway, squatting down as if he is pulling weeds from around his mailbox. Partner whips it into the driveway, and I hop out and confront the subject. As I mentioned, he's kind of a 'special' case, in more ways than one, so what I'm doing when I confront him, is not putting on the big, bad, cop routine, but addressing him by name, reminding him that he knows me, that I sit next to the young lady who he reports to, etc. Not our normal procedure, but like I said, a 'special' case. Anyway, I start seeing the light of recognition in his eyes, and his posture relaxes, so I move on to the fact that we're out in the field doing Home Visits today, and his agent asked if we would stop in, check on him, and take a look around the place.

He acquiesces, and turns to start walking up his driveway towards the house. Partner gets back in the car, to pull it in a little further, and I turn to follow the subject up the drive, when our first visit of the day, takes a turn down Freak-Out Street. First off, I'm not thinking about any kind of fight or anything. I'm about 6'2"-6'3", and 200+ pounds, wearing a Glock and my Tac vest, which means not only am I armored, but I have batons and sprays and various nasties scattered about my torso. Not concealed, but right out there so everyone can see exactly how things are going to go down if it gets ugly. This particular subject is maybe 5'7, and 100 pounds soaking wet, so I'm not feeling any sort of threat from this guy.

Remember, complacency gets you killed. There are no 'routine' stops.

So this little fella, out of the blue, takes off running. Straight up the driveway towards the house. I'm literally flat-footed for about a second, mouth hanging open, thinking WTH? Then I take off after him. Now I may be getting old and out of shape, but that's mostly an endurance thing, I can still sprint with the best of them. It's just that my sprint has gone down from a couple of hundred yards, to about ten to fifteen yards, twenty, tops, before I remember that I'm not twenty-three anymore. So I take off after this guy, and catch up to him as he's dashing into his house through the entrance in the carport.

I catch the storm door with my left hand, as I place a foot on the step, and realize that the subject has not dashed further into his house, but is in fact standing right there, reaching behind the door for something. Luckily, we train for things like this, whether at the academy, in our yearly re-certifications, or just in-house training, so I can go into automatic pilot mode, instead of crapping myself. Adrenaline flushes through my system like a tidal wave, and I'm suddenly wired tight. The storm door is a faint memory, as my left arm is out in front, palm spread in a 'stop' gesture, I'm ordering him to stop whatever he's doing, and my right hand is in it's favorite place, wrapped around my Glock, and on the draw.

This is where my adrenaline high plays into the subject's favor. Everything is heightened for me right now, and I hear the clink, of glass on glass coming from behind the door. That's when it clicks, that the day before, the agent mentioned to use that this particular subject is , as part of his orders, prohibited from consuming any alcoholic beverages while under supervision, and that if he's been drinking, he'll try to hide the bottles from us. So, instead of continuing with my draw, I instead, stay about halfway out of the holster, step forward, and push the subject back a step. I look behind the door, and what should I see, but a plastic bag, in which are two , 40 oz. malt liquor bottles, empty of course.

This absolute idiot, just about got shot, because he was worried about us seeing his empty beer bottles. By this point, partner is in the house, I'm holstered, and discussing things with the subject, when the after effects of the adrenaline dump hit, and I end up with a small case of the shakes. I wouldn't notice I don't think, but for the fact that I'm trying to write down on the ubiquitous note pad all cops carry, exactly what it is we've found. Number, size, brand, etc., and I notice that my hand is shaking, just enough to be noticeable, which makes me notice the drain I feel in my body, as if I'd just run a marathon or something.

I'm sure the idiot doesn't realize how close things came to being a lot uglier for him that morning. I'm sure the only thing going through his head was the fact that he had to get those beer bottles out of sight. It truly amazes me that people just don't seem to grasp the realities of the situation they find themselves in when they interact with a law enforcement officer. You see it all the time on reality cop shows, people mouthing off or bucking up to a cop, drunk or not, they just don't seem to realize what's really going on. They just don't seem to realize that there are lines that shouldn't be crossed, because once they are, there's often no going back.

Ah well, all's well that ends well, and we've already laughed about it in the office. The rest of the visit was uneventful, as was the rest of the day.

The lesson reinforced here, should be remembered by all, not just law enforcement, because it applies to everyone. You may not go into as many dangerous situations as a beat cop, I know I don't, but doing what I do, I know that I go into a lot more dangerous situations than people realize, just going to the store. Keep it in mind always, complacency will get you killed.

Enjoy the holiday,

Casey

Th Doldrums

2009-08-28T11:47:00.004-04:00

OK, so the term might not actually apply to my life currently, as it's pretty hectic, but the blog is definitely going through a period of the Doldrums.

Since returning from my brief vacation in the frigid North, where they have to write the current water temperature on a board at the entrance to the beach so you can decide if you really want to risk hypothermia for a chance to say you went swimming, things have been a little hectic. The trip it self was a lot of fun. We hit the beach almost everyday. The water was not unbearably frigid, though it was cold. To a good Southern boy, it was down right freezing, however, the temp board did say it got up to 70 degrees Fahrenheit one day. I don't know if I wholly believe that, because I swear there was ice in the water, but whatever, it was a good time.

Since being back to work, I have literally had to hit the ground running, and not really let up much. I've written out at least twenty warrants in the last two weeks. It seems like the majority of my knuckleheads who were going to give in to that summer madness, gave in while I was on vacation, so I'm playing catch up, trying to track them down and get them in front of a judge.

My supervisor is taking a personal interest in my caseload, she eyes it with a goal of reducing the numbers, and is finding all sorts of violations to write people up on. On the one hand, it's really nice having someone go behind and pick up all of the small details I don't have time to delve in to as much as I should. It's also nice to see my caseload numbers dropping below 170 for the first time in almost two years. On the downside, I now have hearings scheduled for offenders at least 2 days a week, every week from now until Thanksgiving, with some weeks having hearings scheduled on 4 consecutive days.

While this will definitely assist in reducing my caseload, it just liable to break this camel's back. I'm trying to get everything organized in advance, but will likely be scrambling to have all the paperwork in order, and forms filled out, and ducks in a row for the next couple of months, scrambling from one hearing day to the next. The organization is where I'm lacking. Luckily, my supervisor excels in that department, and will hopefully be able to help keep me sane :)

With all the scrambling, I've really only gotten out into the field one good day since returning from vacation. I had to drive all over creation, but nothing really interesting occurred. A few houses with dogs, one with a menagerie of dogs, cats, goats, and horses, but nothing really noteworthy. Well, except maybe for the burn pile out back of the menagerie house with a lot of aerosol cans in it. Nothing else obvious, but that pile will keep us on the look out for some other things.

I try to keep up on things when I come up for air, and I see that MaryJo's killer is finally having to face justice for that horrific act. Via the Coroner, and Wiki, I see that the horrific act may have been even more terrible than I thought. Drowning would be bad enough, but struggling in an air pocket, hoping for a rescue, and having it never materialize, seems to make it just that much worse.

I guess it's at least a break from the Pedophile Lovefest on the news anyway.

I guess I'm going to try and hold back this mountain of paperwork that's threatening to overwhelm my desk, and also try to catch up on all the blog posts I've missed reading recently. Hope everyone has a great weekend!

Casey

What we do...

2009-08-14T10:15:00.003-04:00

Ranked in order on the Fun-O-Meter :)

My friend and partner, the Gunslinger, has an fun post up listing the things we do, in order of how much fun they are, most to least. I'd have to say I agree with his ranking, except for maybe the time spent in Court. I would move it up in the rankings a couple of notches, being, in my mind, more fun than Office Duty, or Reports. However, I also have a slightly different law enforcement background, that had me in a shirt and tie daily, and dealing with judges on a regular basis, so it doesn't really bother me. The only bad thing about court, is the down time, waiting for your case to be called, so you can present the State's side, and hopefully get a knuckle-head sent down the road and off of your caseload.

Wander over and give it the once-over :)

Casey

Yankee Laws

2009-08-12T12:43:00.002-04:00

Specifically, those related to the VolksRepublik of Massachusetts. Is anyone familiar with them that can enlighten me? We're up visiting the In-Laws, and I had an interesting discussion with my Father-In-Law regarding gun rights here. My FIL owns a rifle, which he apparently cannot use in this state, with only shotguns being allowed, and a German P38, that his father brought back from WWII. Oddly enough, he also maintains a Concealed Weapons Permit, though I don't think that's exactly what they call them here, even though he doesn't carry or even own a carry gun, and that is the crux of my question.

My FIL tells me that the CWP, or whatever you call the local variant, is required of anyone in the state who owns a firearm of any sort. That it is not just a carry permit, but a permit that allows state residents to own firearms at all. He also informs me, that even the sale and purchase of airguns, from target pellet guns right on down to the Daisy Red Ryder BB gun, is controlled, and restricted to those who own such permits. He does say that he's not certain about the permit being required to purchase the air guns, however, he does state that you can only purchase them at an actual gun store. No BB or Pellet weapons or accoutrement's in the local Wal-Mart or it's Yankee equivalent.

Can this really be true? Are the people of this unfortunate state required to obtain a permit before they can even own a weapon, much less carry it? Also, is it true about the restrictions on air-powered weapons? If so, how do little boys play at cowboys or army with out BB guns to fight off the enemy and their ever encroaching horde of soda cans and Neco wafers?

If anyone can enlighten and educate me on this, it would be greatly appreciated. I may have to reconsider how much time I let my girls spend with their grandparents up here in this bastion of liberal ignorance. I already have their first rifles picked out and the oldest isn't even three years old yet :p

Casey

The Sly Dog

2009-08-07T09:38:00.002-04:00

When out in the field, doing Home Visits, or serving warrants, you always have to keep your eyes open for dogs. One of the things I've learned, is to watch out for the sly or sneaky dog. You sometimes see the dogs that are rabidly aggressive, snarling and barking and doing their best to get at you from whatever is restraining them, be it a fence, chain, rope, etc. Those are good, because you know exactly where you stand with them.

Then there are the ones who are barking at you, protecting their property, but are also wagging their tails. Those can be difficult, because they may come up and just sniff you, and be happy to have someone near, or they may be wagging their tales at the thought of getting to bite someone. I generally notate them as 'moderately aggressive' when I'm writing things up, because they can go either way, despite the wagging of tails.

There are also the ones who are just happy to see anyone when you pull up into the yard, and you can see that plain as day in their posture. There are also the ones who go slinking off as soon as you pull in, who seem scared of human contact. I feel bad for these, because who knows what has happened to them that caused them to fear people so much, yet still stay with their owners.

The last, I was reminded of this week, are the sly dogs, or sneaky dogs. I pulled into the driveway to check on one of my people, and beeped the horn. Now, my guy has three dogs, two big ones inside of a small fenced in area in the front yard, and a small chihuahua type, that stays inside. So why do I beep the horn? Because this is a neighborhood, and I use the term loosely, that is known for dogs running loose. At the beep of the horn, I get no response from the house, however, 6-8 loose dogs do respond, with lots of barking and wagging of tails. I remain in my car, reach over and flip on the power to my siren bank, and hit the air horn a couple of times. The dogs that are running loose start adding jumping to the mix of barking and wagging of tails at the sound of the air horn. I see a curtain move inside the house, and know that my guys now knows I'm out here waiting for him to come out to the driveway.

However, the most important thing comes not from the dogs I see, or the folks coming out of the trailer I'm parked in front of. It comes from my left, from underneath the little pick-up truck I'm parked next to. It's a deep, angry, rumbling growl that just about sets the truck to vibrating it's so intense. I lean over out of the window, and try to get a better look, and sure enough, there's a sly dog, or sneaky dog, that wasn't under the truck when I pulled in, but is there now, just waiting for my door to open, and my left foot to stick out from under it as I try to get out of the car. Apparently, the air horn has pissed him off enough that he unintentionally gave away his position. Once he sees me looking at him, he growls a bit more, then eases further back under the truck, until I can't see him anymore, and slinks off to what is undoubtedly, another ambush position.

My guy comes out, we chat, I get my business done, all through the open window of my cruiser. My guy comments that "...yeah, that one's a sneaky bastard, you gotta keep yer eyes on him. If he gets round behind ya, he'll git ya sure..."

So, keep your eyes open. The overtly aggressive and friendly dogs will be easy to spot, but it's the sneaky ones you have to keep an eye out for.

Casey

Composure

2009-07-23T20:24:00.002-04:00

Composure, and the ability to maintain it, is something that's very important in any profession where you have to interact with people on a regular basis. I would say it's even more important, if not a critical skill, for someone in law enforcement. It's something that has to be maintained, regardless of what your true feelings are.

For example, let's consider the following tableau that I experienced today. Our office receives a tip, that someone we have a warrant out for, is at a location just outside of the city limits. It's a small trailer park. Now that might immediately conjure visions of rednecks into your minds, but you'd be wrong. We have, in my experience, four different types of trailer parks in our area. The first, is what you might expect, mostly white, mostly redneck types. The second, would be composed mostly of Hispanics, and the third, mostly of blacks. These first three, while being separated from each other, based almost solely on skin tone and language differences, all share some common things. They are almost universally composed of older trailers, very run-down, and the people who live in them don't do anything to improve them in any way. Trash usually litters the area, not just around the outside of the trailers, but the inside as well. Things are allowed to sit where they fall, and any pets people may have running loose are, at best, indifferently maintained.

The fourth, and final, type of trailer park I interact with is the nicest. The trailers may or may not be older, but they're generally well maintained. Instead of being surrounded by dirt, gravel, and weeds, they usually have lawns and shrubs and flowers that are neatly trimmed. Pets look healthy, well-fed, and are either on a leash run, or inside of a small fence. What type of people inhabit these trailer parks you might ask? People who take pride and responsibility in themselves and their surroundings. Black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Indian, what have you. They're all mixed in there together, living side by side, and it's just like any nice neighborhood you might visit, except for the fact that the homes were once considered mobile.

Now, the place where we were going to today, was a small mobile home park, less than a dozen trailers, and fell into one of the first three categories. Skin color isn't important, but it was one of those run down and trashy looking places. We approached the targeted residence, with myself on perimeter heading around the back side to cover any rear entrances. As we approach, we notice a dog, a young Boxer mix, near the front door. Two entry agents make contact with the resident, and secure consent to search. The subject was not there, but was supposedly nearby, and on foot. The warrant team leader steps off towards the car and gets on the phone with the county sheriff's office to appraise them of the situation and probable location of the subject, as they have a warrant for her as well.

Meanwhile, myself and a female agent engage the residents in conversation, trying to see if we can find out any other information. The Boxer-mix pup is hanging around, and fairly friendly, when I notice another pup, similar to the first, peeking out from underneath the trailer. It's standing on three legs, as it's right front paw, is grossly mangled and swollen. We ask the resident about it, and he informs us that there are two dogs underneath the trailer, who have been hit by a car. He doesn't have a car to be able to take them to a vet, and he says he can't get Animal Control to do anything with them, they won't even return his calls. The other agent with me, is immediately on the phone, calling a friend with connections at Animal Control, as I walk over to peek under the trailer and see if I can see the other injured dog. It's lying there, under the trailer, with an injury to it's left hind leg. I know immediately that it's not broken. How you might ask? Because all of the fur and flesh has been scraped from one side of it's leg, and I can see the bones, and how they articulate at the joint.

I suddenly feel this cold, burning sensation building in my gut. I don't notice it right away, but my off-hand is gripping the butt of my baton and twisting it, as I struggle to come to grips with what I'm seeing. These two injured dogs were hit by a mini-van, that never stopped, two days ago. Two days of what must be almost un-endurable agony. Yet they look at us with tongues lolling out of the side of their mouths, and wags of their tails. That look of unconditional love in their eyes that confirms that these are in fact, young puppies, not more than six to twelve months old, and just want to please people.

That fire in my gut is now a full on blaze, and I feel the anger awaken within me. I begin to turn around so I can confront the resident, when I hear the female agent with me, start to get a strained quality to her voice, as she's alternating between talking to Animal Control on the phone, and questioning the resident as to the specifics of the incident and the injuries to the two dogs. From past experience, I can tell that she's about to launch into a tirade. I look past her, and see about eight people, in front of one of the other trailers, watching the proceedings with interest. In front of the trailer next to that are four more people, also watching, as are the six people at the next trailer, and the seven or eight people gathered in front of the last trailer in the cul de sac.

Reality comes crashing back down on me. This is not a 'nice' trailer park, and we're not in the best of neighborhoods anyway. We're easily outnumbered by the residents watching the proceedings, by about seven or eight to one. One thing crashes through my brain. This Can Not Escalate!! The stoneface goes on, and I step away from the trailer, and approach the agent. I tell her to stay on the phone, and get Animal Control out here ASAP, because we're not leaving those dogs here. Then, I get a grip on the anger, push the fire down, and turn to engage the resident in conversation, gleaning what I can from him about the hit and run on the dogs. I have to be polite, and understanding, as I listen to him explain that he just didn't have any way to get the dogs to a vet. He doesn't have a car, and he's not friendly enough with any of the other residents of the trailer park to get them to give him and a the dogs a ride to see a vet. I nod, and mutter platitudes to keep him calm and relaxed, while the only thing I'm aching to do, is pull out my baton and OC, and administer the beating this guy so richly deserves, then make sure both is knee caps are broken, stuff him under his own trailer, and come back to check on him in a couple of days to see how he thinks it feels.

This is where the composure part comes into play. I can't let what's going through my head and gut show on my face. As much as I believe that I would be morally justified in administering the aforementioned beat down, I know it's not going to happen, and can't let my own desire for moral justice, make me prod this guy into a fight. So I keep a leash on myself, make sure the other agent stays calm, and we wait while Animal Control comes, writes the guy a citation because they'd come out two days ago and ordered him to get medical attention for his pets, and take not only the injured dogs, but all dogs at the residence away.

I swear, abuse of animals and kids are the hardest things to see, especially as an LEO, because you can't do what you want to do, but have to enforce what the law says should be done. Composure is a difficult thing to maintain in such situations, but it's something you absolutely have to do.

My hat's off to all you regular patrol guys, who have to deal with crap like this on a daily basis. I don't know how you do it. I'm sure I would step across the line in short order if I had to see and deal with this kind of thing regularly.

Well, I'm off to see if a beer or three can't help me forget the look in that pups eye, when it licked my hand as we loaded it into the truck for transport to a vet. It was just heart-breaking.

Casey

Jumpin' Jesus on a Pogo Stick!!

2009-07-14T22:30:00.003-04:00

I mean seriously...what a guy to do? I keep coming up with interesting things(at least to me) that I'd like to post about, and then, as I walk outside to let the dogs out for one last time before they're in for the night, what do I see but...

Ayep! Another frikkin Copperhead!!! I don't understand where the bloody things are coming from. I mean I kill every single one I see. I killed this one's kith and kin two nights ago for the love of Pete! By the way, that's my Heritage Arms Rough Rider, single action .22 LR in the picture there with it. This one measure out to about 22 inches. An inch or so shorter than his brother/cousin/whatever the other night, an way shorter than the great grand-daddy I killed a couple of months ago.

I just don't understand what these things are doing in my front yard. My cat generally prowls around during the day out there, and the front yard isn't overgrown like the back yard. There's about a forty foot wide strip of woods between my yard, and the nearest neighbor's yard, but I don't ever hear them complaining about snakes.

I swear, it's like I'm cursed or something, with some sort of magnetism for snakes. Which wouldn't be too bad, except for the fact that the ones that most often come calling, are frikkin poisonous!! Poisonous snakes just give me the willies.

Of course, with two snakes, each almost two feet long, in three nights, my wife is hinting at handbags, shoes, gloves, etc., that could be made from there skins. That just ain't gonna happen though. Even dead, they still give me the willies. I swear, I could go to start skinning one of them, and that thing would turn and bit the crap out of me. Leastways, that's the way it plays out in my head...

I live out in the sticks, which I like, but I just can't seem to get away from the poisonous snakes. Does anyone know of any way to get rid of them without clear-cutting my land and paving it over? It's to the point where I'm almost contemplating going out and purchasing a few King Snakes, and releasing them near my house so that they can deal with the Copperheads. I just worry about how they might interact with the Black Rat snakes in the area, of which I know I have two, one 4.5 feet, and the other about 3 feet. Though I haven't seen the 7 foot long one in a few years, I'm willing to bet it might still be around as well. Anyone know how Black snakes and King snakes get along?

Casey

PS- And to add insult to injury, I'm now down to 4 CCI shot shells for my .22 . I'll have to see if I can find any for sale at a reasonable price locally. From the way things have been going, it looks like I'm going to need quite a few more this summer....

Threat Assessment

2009-07-13T09:16:00.002-04:00

To set the stage, I live in a house on the side of a mountain. Not a big mountain by any means, but big enough to where any flat spots in my yard are cut back into the mountain, and have a retaining wall holding up what was not cut away. You may also remember that several months ago, I had sort of a snake infestation. It didn't seem that I could walk out of my front door without tripping over a Black Rat Snake, or espying a Copperhead. The copperheads are poisonous, and I kil and dispose of them, while I just try to shoo off any snakes that aren't poisonous. Usually the Black Rate Snake. This weekend, I saw an interesting Red-Bellied Snake. I see them occasionally in the yard, along with Ring-Necked snakes, and Worm snakes. Those three are all small, usually a twelve inches or less, and not even as big around as a number two pencil.

Anyway, I see this snake lying at the foot of the steps in the driveway. It has no real discernible pattern on it, just a dark grey with faint, darker lines running the length of it's body. I notice a slight tan discoloration to either side of its neck, just behind the head. After doing some research, it turns out the the Red-Bellied snake, and the Ring-Necked snaked, will sometimes cross-breed, producing a critter like what is before me. Interesting. Must be the hyphens that let them get along so well :)

Anyway, after not seeing any snaked for a month or two, I was happy that this one was small, and innocuous. Then, last night, as I step out front for a last smoke(whoa...de ja vu anyone?) I get about halfway out the door when I notice something slithering along the top of the four foot retaining wall, about fourteen feet in front of me.

This is where the threat assessment part comes in. I mention it because it seems so odd to me. I did not identify the snake as a Copperhead, and therefore a threat. I did not identify the snake as poisonous, and therefore a threat. What I did, as I backpedaled into the house, was identify the snake slithering along the wall as "not a black snake". I was already grabbing the Rough Rider, loaded with shot, out of the holster, and heading back towards the front door, when it finally clicked in my head that the pattern I saw in the scales as it slithered along meant that it was in fact a Copperhead, and about twenty-three inches long judging from the distance it was stretched along the wall.

I step back out side, and of course, it's gone. However, I saw where it was going, and it wasn't moving fast, so I thumbed the hammer back, and stepped up within a couple of feet of the retaining wall, just forward of where I last saw the snake. The light from the porch caught the snakes eye as it lifted its head towards me to assess what I was, and I was able to draw a bead on it, and dispatch it quite easily. Still got a case of the willies when disposing of the carcass, as even though the head was so much mush, the body was still responding to touch, and trying to curl around the rake I was using to pick it up.

The thing that got me thinking was about how I assessed the threat in my head. As I mentioned, I did not immediately identify it as a poisonous snake, and therefore a threat. What I did, mentally, was identify it is not a black snake, which I know is benign, and therefore a possible threat to be identified after I had something in hand to kill it with. My brain caught up with itself such that I had identified it before I got back to it, but it was interested that i first determined that it was not immediately benign, and therefore a potential threat, to be identified at gun point.

I don't know if that's something I do normally, or only with snakes, as this was the first time I realized the thought process going on. I'll have to pay more attention to the thought process when engaged in job related activities where threats are of the two-legged variety, and see if I can recall how I assess things. If it follows along the same lines as what happened last night, then I would assume, that I would immediately identify Friendly and Not-Friendly. With the Not-Friendly designation not necessarily being a threat, or an Unfriendly, but needing futher examination to make that determination.

Hope you had a good weekend.

Casey

Heritage? Hate? Or just plain Ignorance?

2009-07-09T16:14:00.003-04:00

So I saw a post debating heritage or hate in regards to the 'rebel' flag. This just happens to be a pet peeve of mine, so I decided to make a post about it, and see if I couldn't spread the word just a little bit. I'm going to use some images gathered from around teh web, as I can't seem to find my own image files for flags, but will credit them where linked.

This was the first 'Official' flag of the Confederacy. It was called the Stars and Bars, for what I assume are obvious reasons. In some battles, it became difficult to distinguish between Union troops and Confederate troops based solely on the flags flying above the units because of the similarity between the Stars and Stripes, and the Stars and Bars. Hence the need was felt to design a new flag that did not so closely resemble the flag of the Union armies.

This flag, which was the second 'Official' flag of the Confederacy, was called the Stainless. Because of the great expanse of pure white cloth(hence the name) it was sometimes confused with a flag of parley or surrender on the battlefield, especially when there was no wind blowing, and the flag would hang limp. This was also thought to be a bad thing, and so it was decided to alter the design a bit to prevent that confusion.

This flag, was meant to be the third 'official' flag of the confederacy, but was never ratified and adopted by the Confederate congress, the war having ended before such resolution could be brought to the floor for a vote.

Those are the only flags of the Confederacy, in the big sense. There were other flags, that people try to point to as Confederate flags, but in reality, while they may have been flags of confederate units, they were not flags of the Confederacy.

I'm sure you all recognize this one. No, it's not the flag of the Confederacy, but is in fact, the Battle Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia. The colors are a bit off in this jpeg. The red should be darker, more blood-like, almost a burgundy color. If my research is correct, this flag was always limned(out-lined) either with a white border for battlefield use, or with fancy gold for presentations.

Now this is the one that causes so much controversy. The colors here are, once again, a bit off. The blue is about right, but could be a tad lighter, and the red should have a more orange tone to it. This flag is, also, not the Confederate Flag, however, it was a Confederate Naval Jack. So it was a small flag, for a unit of the Confederacy, not the flag for everyone. I have seen a reference that states a flag of this design and proportion, scaled up to about a three by five foot size, and using the colors of the Battle Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia, was flown by a single regiment based out of Tennessee, in the last days of the Civil War. I've not been able to track down any more specific information, but then again, I don't spend a lot of time looking either :p

So, the flag people are yelling is heritage not hate, is probably not a whole lot of heritage. Unless of course, you happen to be descended from a veteran of the Confederate Navy. It has definitely been used as a symbol of hate in the past, and some still try to use it for that purpose today. However, it's mainly just a symbol of ignorance, because in this day and age, it shouldn't take anyone more than about two minutes to determine that it is not, and has never been, the Flag of the Confederacy.

If you truly want to honor Confederate heritage, then fly the Stars and Bars, or the Stainless, but waiving around an oversized naval jack is just ignorant.

Casey

PS - All jpegs came from www.usflag.org

Hate Crimes

2009-06-29T12:48:00.002-04:00

I saw this article on CNN today, and it got me irritated. It's a commentary piece on Hate Crimes. The laws that apply to them, and how we're making better laws against hate crimes.

Phooeeyy!!

I think hate crime legislation is some of the most insidious stuff we have. If it's wrong to beat someone, or kidnap someone, or torture someone, or kill someone, then it's just plain wrong. However, if you called them a pejorative name while doing it, then it's extra bad, and you'll get to do some extra time for that crime.

What the hate crime legislation is doing is attempting to control what people think. If it's wrong to commit a certain crime, then it should be wrong regardless of why you commit it. It's shouldn't be worse because you have a negative view of the person or persons you commit the crime against. Heck, if you felt all sorts of fluffy-bunny-luv for them, you wouldn't be committing crimes against them in the first place!!

Proponents of hate crime legislation say it's there to protect the rights of gays/lesbians/Jews/Asians/Hispanics/(take your pic). However, hate crime legislation does nothing to protect anyone. The only thing hate crime legislation does, is enhance the penalties a person can suffer if convicted of a real crime, based solely on that person's thoughts and ideas.

That's basic thought control there. Tell them not to do something(the law) then tell them that while it's a free country, and you can think whatever you like, if you express those thoughts before, during, or after committing a crime, we're going to make things even worse for you, based solely on your thoughts and motivations.

Is the act, in and of itself, a crime? If so, then that should be the end of it. Your motivation for committing that crime shouldn't come into play at all. It's the crime that's illegal, not your thoughts or motivations for committing the crime. Unless of course, it's against a 'protected' group, and then maybe it is a crime to have thoughts that don't lock-step with what 'They' think you should be thinking.

Casey

PS - Ironically though, when a local chapter or set of a gang decides that it's going to initiate a new member in by having them go after a cop, that never gets looked at as a hate crime. Even though the reason they target a person is based solely on clothing and job choice.

Interagency frustrations

2009-06-25T13:03:00.003-04:00

You know, working for a state law enforcement agency can be extremely frustrating. There are so many other agencies that you have to interact with, and none of you use the same identifiers. We use a State Identification Number for each offender in our agency, SID for short. You'd think that would be universal, at least across the state agencies. You'd be wrong. State Corrections uses a totally different number, and who knows where they got that from. If you look hard enough at the DOC forms, you can find the SID number, usually not as prominent as their own SCID number, but there nonetheless.

Then enter into the Federal system. You'd think, that if someone is actively being supervised by a state officer, if someone else decided to pick them up, say on federal charges, you'd get notified of that. Once again, you'd be wrong. Unless of course, when the feds pick them up, they happen to hold them, however briefly, in the county jail. If that happens, then when one of our admin staff is going through the list of those newly booked into the jail to see if any of them are under supervision, you might get lucky and get a hit on it. Depending of course, on how they book them in.

I'm currently trying to track one through Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Seems he was released directly to them, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Now the Feds, have their own ID number system, but even within that, ICE has it's own special ID number system. Unless you're on very good terms with a local ICE agent, who's good at tracking through their computer system, you can't hardly find out anything about someone they're dealing with, unless you already have that special ICE ID number. Which they can't give you, unless you can identify the subject you're looking for. Which they're going to need that number to identify him. Vicious circle eh?

You occasionally get lucky, and can find that number listed on paperwork from SCDC, if they passed through there with the ICE detainer on them. It's not called the ICE ID number, or anything easy like that, but if you've seen a few of them, you realize that they're all in the same format, and can usually pick it out of the morass of jumbled letters and numbers that adorn their discharge paperwork. If of course, your lucky enough to get a copy of that paperwork. If not, then you have to get on the phone, and cajole someone in state records to sift through the paperwork, looking for a string of characters that begins with a specific letter, and has a certain number of numerals after it. Of course, if you want someone in state records, which is under the DOC to find something, you've got to be able to give them their version of the ID number so they can track it down.

Suffice it to say that I've spent the last few hours chasing down numbers and getting them all organized, just so that I can ask ICE what they've done with my guy. Of course, now that I'm ready, ICE is not. So I'll patiently wait to see if anyone calls me back, or if I have to start the wheedling again tomorrow....

Casey

What I do....at the moment...

2009-06-24T22:00:00.000-04:00

First, a bit of background. I work in law enforcement. In the past, I have worked for County Forensics. Doing a variety of things, from taking fingerprints inside the jail, to working Crime Scenes, to actually working in the Crime Lab for a time. I loved my time in the lab, but consider it a lesson learned about trusting people more concerned with politics than with doing the job. I took a position funded by a Federal Grant, under the assurance that the position would most certainly be picked up when the grant was finished. I guess we know how that turned out :p

In any event, I currently work with Probation and Parole here in Carolina. Now, Probation and Parole mean different things to different people, and the roles vary from state to state. In some states, they're not much more than glorified social workers, there to assist the offender with integration back into society. In Carolina, however, we are Class 1 law enforcement officers. We attend the Criminal Justice Academy, and receive the exact same training as any Deputy or Officer on the road, and carry much of the same gear. While we do make some effort to see that offenders get certain services, our main objective is to enforce the dictates of the Court and the Parole Board. If an offender can't abide by the rules, then we write out a warrant for their arrest, and do what we can to track them down, arrest them, and get them in front of Judge. If we're lucky, and we get a good Judge, they go to prison to serve the sentence that was originally imposed on them, and then suspended in favor of Probation.

Needless to say, they generally didn't get on Probation or Parole, because they were good at following rules in the first place. Subsequently, we spend a lot of time writing out arrest warrants for offenders. I've written three so far this week. Now, if we each went off on our own, and tried to arrest people, we probably wouldn't get very far. There's just too many of them. So what we do is form Warrant Teams. Several times each month, teams of five to eight agents go out, and attempt to serve arrest warrants for which we think we might have a good address.

Now when these teams reach a possible arrest point, we deploy out around the perimeter, in case we get a runner, and still have at least a two to three people ready for entry. Contrary to what you might see in the movies, or on TV, especially on COPS, there really isn't much drama involved in these things. The people on the perimeter, are really there as a Just In Case kind of thing. I can't remember the last time one of our Warrant Teams had to chase somebody down. Nine times out of ten, if not ninety-nine times out of a hundred, we knock on the door, ask for so and so to step out, and hook him up. We generally ask if there's anything he would like to leave at the house, or anything he would like to take to jail with him. If you treat people right, they generally do right by you. Heck, last week, as I was hooking someone, he said to me "Mr. Casey, I'm sorry you had to come out and get me like this." Now, while having someone apologize, for making you arrest them, isn't an every day occurrence, it's not that rare in this line of work, as long as you're professional, and don't make a jerk out of yourself. There's a fine line between being a cop, and doing your job, which a lot of people will respect, even if they don't like it, and being a jerk, just because you can be one and get away with it.

On the rare occasion, there is some drama involved.....enter the manly fun :) I'm out on a recent warrant team, one we're conducting in partnership with several different agencies, serving our warrants and theirs. We'd had a good morning, and picked up eight different people, no muss, no fuss. About six of us were enjoying lunch at a local diner, when we got a call from one of the head guys. Get our butts in gear and get to meeting place X in 20 minutes, there's a high threat warrant to be served, and S.W.A.T. is involved. We start over towards meeting place X, all wondering why we're headed there. If the SWAT guys are involved, there's just no way they need us, I mean, those guys are good at what they do, and we'd probably just be in their way. We get to the briefing, and it turns out that there are multiple targets. SWAT is taking the primary residence, while our team and another are securing a secondary residence, and everyone else, including K-9's, are securing a perimeter.

Whoa...butterflies in the belly time. This is not what we do. We're told that a firefight is a distinct possibility, as the primary suspect is armed and violent. There are also likely to be in excess of twenty people at the two residences, with an unknown number of weapons.

Did I mention the butterflies? Seems that these aren't your everyday, nectar slurping butterflies, nooooo...these are some sort of mutant carnivorous butterflies trying to eat their way out of your belly. Kind of like the critters in Alien, only with wings.

Anyway, we're all loaded up, and rolling out. The whole way I'm thinking to myself..."What the heck am I doing here. This is not what I do. I'm Mr. Laid-Back." About that time, the driver slams on the brakes, and someone is shouting "GO!GO!GO!" I can only assume that the carnivorous butterflies are unable to exist outside of a patrol car, because I never noticed them after my feet hit the pavement. The adrenaline is flowing hard as I come around the nose of the Vic and head across the street, drawing my gun and ordering people to the ground.

About that time, maybe twenty-five feet away, SWAT is making entry, and the Concussion Grenades(Flash/Bangs) start going off. Let me tell you, if you've never seen a good SWAT team make a high threat entry, you've missed something amazing. These guys were good, and moving like a well oiled machine. Well, actually, it wasn't a machine they brought to mind, so much as an amoeba of sorts. They were all clustered at the entry, and after the breach, and the bang, they just sort of flowed into the building. No wasted motion, no jostling or anything, they just seemed to pour though the doorway.

Drag eyeballs back to what I'm doing. We've got everyone that was outside of the building we were on secured. This is one of those times where everyone gets hooked up, and we sort it all out after the guns are put away. I'm on a corner, pressed hard up against the house, covering the guys who are covering the front entrance. I glance over my shoulder behind me, and K-9, several SWAT guys, and a few others have got the rear entrance covered and locked down. All of the sudden, here comes that SWAT beast again, flowing across the yard, up the steps, across the porch, and into the open front entrance. It's a thing of beauty to watch these guys work.

OK. So that's the fun stuff. Most of the work is pretty dull. Meeting with anywhere from 25 to 75 offenders a week, usually crammed into a single day, to try and keep up with what they're doing. A mind-numbing amount of paperwork. I do mean, absolutely mind-numbing. Even with so much of what we do being handled electronically, through e-mails, or our programs specifically designed for our jobs, I'm pretty sure that in the couple of years I've been doing this, I personally have caused the de-forestation of a small, South American country. Dealing with the everyday drama of being involved in other peoples lives. Also, there are home visits. You have to go out, and visit your peoples homes, to make sure they don't have bazookas on the wall, meth-labs in the bath tub, or dead things in the house. You'd be surprised just what we find. Also, I think the vast majority of people would be absolutely shocked at how disgustingly nasty some folks live. I've been in houses that were like a minefield of dog crap. Literally piles of dog crap, all through the house, including the fresh pile in front of the fridge, and all they can do is roll their eyes and say "That damn dog!"

Well, I know this has run on a bit, and rambled from topic to topic, but this is the short form of what I'm currently doing. I don't know how long I'll be doing this, or what I'll be doing next. I'm pretty decent at this job, except some of the paperwork, but I can feel that this is not what I'm 'meant' to be doing. I'll figure that out at some point I assume. I guess the most important thing to to find some aspect of what you are doing, and find a way to enjoy it. I'm lucky in that aspect, as there are several things about the job that I not only enjoy, I really love doing. So, as long as I can keep my butt from getting in further in the sling over paperwork, I should be pretty good here for a while.

Hope you're enjoying your work as well...

Casey

Update....

2009-06-24T20:51:00.002-04:00

So, it's been a week and two days since the collision. The Deputy that was in the car is probably pushing things a bit, but I'm given to understand he's already back at work. Two of our agents are recovering at home. Currently no ETA for them to return to work. The last agent was finally able to have surgery done yesterday. It took a bit over four hours, and they did all sorts of stuff that I don't even feel qualified to relate. However, I can relate that she came through it with flying colors. It went so well, that she didn't even have to go to ICU after the recovery room, and was able to go straight to a private room. This is, of course, just the beginning on a long road to recovery, but so far, we're starting out great.

Thanks for the thoughts and prayers. They mean more than you'll know.

Casey

Hospital Etiquette...

2009-06-21T13:06:00.002-04:00

Or....What not to say...

So I head over to the hospital yesterday to check on my co-worker. I wander in, get directions to the Intensive Care Unit, and once there, directions to the waiting area for the Neuro-Trauma ward within the ICU.

There's a 'Hostess' stationed within to help people figure out if they're in the right place, or offer them directions, that sort of thing. I step up to the desk, an await my turn. It comes, and I step up and ask where I can find the family members of my co-worker.

She looks at me, cocks her head to one side just a little, frowns just a little, and says...

"I'm sorry sir.....she's gone."

I may have caused a little bit of a scene, what with my mild freak-out and loud exclamations and questions along the lines of "OMG!!"... "What Happened?!"...."When?!"

At which point, the 'Hostess', does her best to calm me down, and explain that what she meant, was that my co-worker had been moved out of the ICU, and into a private room one floor below us.

Seriously? As I'm making my way down to the new location, I'm stuck wondering what genius places a person in the ICU, who responds to inquiries like that? They almost need to keep a crash cart near on stand-by, for all the heart attacks that woman is likely to cause...

On the upside, my co-worker is out of the ICU, resting a bit better, and scheduled for surgery in a few days....

Casey

Scotch Eggs

2009-06-19T20:20:00.003-04:00

So I was at the Highland games the other weekend, and got a little rumbly in my tumbly. I'm guiding the family through the food vendors section. Hot Dogs for the kids, and even for the wife, I, however, am a more adventurous sort. I always enjoy trying something new, especially if it's ethnically appropriate to the venue. Since I enjoy wearing a kilt to various Scottish events, I'm often eating haggis, meat pies, sausage rolls, or something of the sort. This year however, several vendors were advertising Scotch Eggs for sale. Now, the prices seemed a little high to me, $4.00-$5.50 depending on the vendor, but I figured I'd give it a try. After all, Tam often goes on about the lusciousness that are the Scotch Eggs served at her local brew-pub.

Well, I was absolutely hooked after the first bite. A boiled egg, wrapped in sausage, crusted with bread crumbs, and deep fried. What's not to like? I spent way too much money on those eggs at the games. The next day, I was still hungering for more, and no way to purchase any, as we don't have a pub selling Scotch Eggs in the area, at least we don't that I know of.

I tried to distract myself with some light blog reading, however, as usual, I end up perusing my favorites, one of which is Brigid's blog, liberally sprinkled with delicious pictures and recipes.

So I think to myself, how hard can this be, and go surfing the net for a simple recipe, and then plundering the fridge and pantry, looking to see if I have the makings. Half an hour later, I've got a pound of venison sausage from last winter thawing in the sink, and a half dozen eggs at a simmering boil on the stove. My wife had made some bread crumbs for a recipe of hers several days previously, so I had those ready to go. I used the suggestion for ingredients to add to the sausage that I found online, a bit of salt and pepper, some thyme, and a splash of worchestire(sp?) with a spoon full of all purpose flower. Mix well, then spread it out into a thin patty, plop the peeled egg in the middle, fold and seal it around the egg, and pinch of the excess. It did say to make sure you squeezed out any air bubbles. I suppose this would be very important when deep frying. At this point, I dipped it in a beaten egg, and coated it in bread crumbs.

I decided against deep frying(I know, that's a sin down here) mainly because I'm not set up for deep frying much of anything. so I placed the eggs on a cooling rack, on a cookie sheet, and popped them into a 325 degree oven for about 40 minutes. The results looked like this.

I was quite proud of my first effort at Scotch Eggs, and no doubt will make them again. Though now I'm out of venison sausage, and will have to resort to pork.

Try something new the next time you're out, and you might find a new family favorite :)

Casey

North Carolina....WTH?!?!

2009-06-19T15:44:00.002-04:00

So....we just got screwed by the good folks in North Carolina. No offense to any officers up that way, but seriously, we just got screwed.

We have a guy on the run. We issue a warrant, and place it out on NCIC. Subject gets picked up, in NC, based on the NCIC hit for our warrant. We get the hit returned to us, and promptly contact the arresting agency to find out exactly where they are, and what their fax number is so that we can fax a copy of the warrant to act as a detainer, until we can get there and extradite him back south. We get the info, fax the copy, and try to arrange for extradition. We get the message that the subject in question is not yet ready for pick-up.

This is where it gets screwy. How can he not be ready for pick-up? The only thing he's arrested on is our warrant. No new charges pending, or disposed requiring him to serve a sentence, however, he's not ready for pick-up.

Turns out that there is some screwy loophole in North Carolina law. I won't go into the details of the loophole itself, but once knucklehead gets through the loophole, this is what happens. It allows a local officer, to take our faxed detainer, and serve it on the subject, as if it were an actual, notorized warrant. Which in turn, allows a local magistrate, not even a circuit court level judge, but a local magistrate, to set a bond on an out of state warrant.

First off, they don't even haev a valid warrant!! It's an electronically transmitted fascimile. It can be used as a detainer, but it's not valid for service in any state of the Union, except apparently, for North Carolina. Secondly, even if it were a valid warrant, a local, municipal officer doesn't have the authority to serve an out of state warrant, unless specifically empowered to do so by the issuing state, that's why the first thing we have to do when we pick someone up on an extradition, is serve teh warrant on them!! Thirdly, a local magistrate has no jurisdiction to set bond on a state level charge from another state, even if it were a valid warrant, which it's not.

Lastly, thanks to this bit of chicanery, they have released this guy, the one we've been looking for for a year and a half or more, because he was able to post the $1,000.00 bond the local set for him.[mind-boggle] What do you think the likelihood is of him toddling on down here to turn himself in to the proper authorities? I believe I have a better chance of seeing unicorns fart rainbows and crap pots of gold, to steal a turn of phrase from Tam.

I really don't get it. We generally extradite from NC with no problem. Get the call, fax the detainer, hop on over the border, and bring them back. This time though, we're screwed.

To be honest, I really hope this knucklehead doesn't go an a spree, or frenzy, or anything of the sort, because if he does, it's going to come back and bite that agency and that magistrate right on the keester. Our warrant is still active, and after this fiasco, will most likely be placed right back on NCIC, and we'll just have to hope he gets pulled over in another jurisdiction next time.

Hope your Friday is going better than mine today.

Casey

PS- looks like another of our agents is going to get released from the hospital today to recuperate at home. That will leave just one in ICU, and we got the word that she is more stable and comfortable today.

Thoughts and Prayers

2009-06-15T22:18:00.002-04:00

This is a little odd for me, but I'm going to ask for your thoughts and prayers for several of my co-workers.

We were participating in a joint operation today, when one of our teams was involved in a pretty bad wreck. A Sheriff's Deputy, and one of our Agents were treated and released from the hospital today, however, we have two more Agents still in the hospital. One in ICU under close observation, and the other in a drug induced coma until such time as the surgeons think they can actually get in there and do something. All because someone thought they had enough room to make that left-hand turn against oncoming traffic.

I'd like to ask not only for your thoughts and prayers for the Agents still in the hospital, and their families, but for the Agent and Deputy who were released, who were able to walk away, while their fellow officers were not. God help me, but I hope not never have to go through what the driver of the unit is going through now. Questioning whether or not something could have been done to prevent the two being in the hospital right now.

I had some posts I'd been working on, but right now just doesn't seem like a good time for them. I hope everyone out there stays safe, and for Pete's sake, turn the cell phone off and focus on what you're doing when you're on the road.

Casey

Unbelievable!

2009-06-03T23:17:00.008-04:00

So I'm headed to let the dogs out one last time before I go to bed this evening, and what do you think I find when I step out of the front door?

I'm not even going to give you a guess...

Laying across my smoking table no less!! Well, it used to be just my smoking table, as can be attested to by the several pipes, and butts of cigarettes in the ashtray. Don't get excited, I've been rolling my own cigarettes for longer than most of our interns have been alive, those a butts, not roaches. However, one might also note the bottle of bubble blowing stuff, as well as a big blue bubble blower thingie. My smoking table is quickly being taken over by my two year old. No doubt I'll have to find a new place for my various, tobacco-related paraphernalia, just to keep little hands out of it.

I really don't know what this snake's deal is. I can only assume it's trying to get higher, to get closer to the hanging fern basket that has the little baby birds in it. The Wrens actually chose a nice spot in the fern basket, as I don't think the snake can get to it at all, and it's sheltered from rain and direct sunlight. However, the snake is starting to get on my nerves. It's extremely disconcerting to reach for a lighter and come within a few inches of grabbing several feet of snake.

I do enjoy having the black snake around, just not quite so in my face.

Oh well, I guess no snake-free day today.

Casey

PS- I do actually blog about things other than snakes. I had a really great experience today that I intend to relate. Very manly. Lots of adrenaline, testosterone, guys with guns and even an explosion or two. I just need time to get it sorted out, maybe I can get a few snake free days to sit down and collect my thoughts in the near future.

Seriously?!? W...T...H?!?!?!

2009-06-02T22:05:00.002-04:00

I know you've got to be getting sick of snake stories, and honestly, I do blog about other things, but it seems to be snake season here at casa_de_Casey.

This evening, it's about 2200 hours, and I step outside for a smoke. After events of the last couple of weeks, I don't step outside without turning on the porch light. So I flip on the light, step outside, and guess what I see? Go ahead....take a wild guess. Yep....another frikkin snake!! Of course, this one is no foot-long juvenile, this sucker is easily four and a half feet long, half on the patio, half off, and kind of laying around a flower pot. Fortunately, copperheads don't generally grow to that size, and we don't have that any poisonous snakes that grow to that size in our area...generally speaking. Now I have seen Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnakes, much longer than that down at my grandfather's place in the piedmont area of the state, and I have seen Cottonmouth Water Moccasins that size, though much thicker bodied, down in the wetlands along the coast. However, up in our neck of the woods, we're pretty much limited to Copperheads, Timber Rattlesnakes, and Pygmy Rattlesnakes. I don't know that I've ever seen a Pygmy Rattler, though I have seen Timber Rattlers on the rare occasion. In any event, none of them grow much over about two to two and a half feet long.

So, seeing a four and a half foot long snake, while causing an instant pucker, accompanied by major adrenaline rush, doesn't cause quite the freak-out that a smaller snake might. So I take another look at this sucker, to get an idea of more than just the length, and it appears to be a common Black Rat Snake. Non-poisonous, and generally beneficial, eating critters that I don't really care for anyway. Of course, beneficial or not, I don't want him(or her) on my patio when I'm trying to have a smoke. Freak-out reasons aside, we have big Boston Ferns hanging out on the porch, one of which is withering and dying, because a pair of Carolina Wrens has made a nest of it, which currently has at least four little hatchlings in it, and Blackie, is hanging out right underneath them.

Which makes me wonder, do snakes have some sort of sixth sense that they can just know when baby birds are getting close to trying to learn how to fly, and hang out looking for the ones that don't get it on the first try?

Anyway, I step over towards the back end of this critter, and give it a little nudge. Thinking of course, that it will meander on its way, and leave me porch. Once again, No Joy. That sucker coiled up on itself quicker than you can say "YYYaaaiiieeeee!!!!" with about 10 inches or so of it's front end, lifted up and across the coils, in a quite aggressive "I'm going to bite you now" pose.

Even though I'm fairly sure that this is a benign snake, I have to admit, my pucker factor went up a notch or three at that. So I start looking for something to nudge it along with, other than my hand. Since I'm in the front yard, what's handiest, is my daughter's toys. Specifically the bright red, three foot long, plastic rake that goes in the sandbox.

So here I am, poking at the four and a half foot long snake, with a three foot long plastic rake belonging to my two year old, on my front porch at ten o'clock at night, when I hear my Wife's voice behind me....

"You're really afraid of snakes!"

"I'm not afraid of them, I just don't care for them...especially on my porch at night."

"You're afraid of them!" (gleeful snicker)

"Is that a spider behind you?"

"EEK!" (disappears inside)

I finish up, by manfully shooing the snake off of my porch and finish my smoke...all the times keeping my eyes peeled for more snakes, and only high stepping once, when something brushed against the back of my ankle.

Signing off for now, apparently from snake Shangi-La....

Casey

Spoke to soon.....

2009-05-31T21:29:00.002-04:00

Well, it looks like I may have spoken just a bit to soon about being thankful for a snake-free weekend. I stepped out onto the porch this evening for a smoke, and to clean up the toys in the front yard, when what do I espy stretched out on the front porch, about fifteen feet to my left. Ayep, you guessed it, young snake looking to relax at my house. Freak out....ON!!!

Of course, I'm not wearing my snake boots, or my pistol, or heck, much of anything. I've been working in the yard today, so after my shower, I've got on a t-shirt, a pair of comfortable shorts, and flip-flops. Also, of course, the Wife is just a few feet away inside the house, so even though I know that she knows, that poisonous snakes give me the willies, I still can't cut loose with a good freak-out yell or anything, one of those image things I guess. SO I step back into the house, swearing under my breath and getting my revolver out.

I step back out onto the porch, and there he is, plain as day, about fourteen or fifteen inches long, mottled in color. It's dark outside, and the porch lights aren't hitting him well, so I can't tell what color he is, just that he's two-toned, with darker splotches along his back. He's young enough, and thin enough, that I'm pretty sure he was a juvenile version of whatever his species is.

That's a problem for me. You see, Juvenile snake species, often don't have the same coloration, or even the same patterns as the adults of the species. Being as how I'm not a herpetologist, I'm not that familiar with what juvenile snakes look like compared to their grown up selves. I look for black snake, king snake, garter snake, copperhead, etc.. If I can't immediately identify what family the snake belongs to, then I'm sorry, I just have to assume the worst. With two little ones that play in that yard, I can't afford to be wrong about a venomous snake. So I hunkered down about four feet from him, thumbed the hammer back, drew a bead on him, and let fly with my rat shot. He's dead, and tossed into the woods, and will probably make a meal for some other critter I'd rather not know about.

I swear, I don't know if it's the rain or what, but I'm suddenly killing way more snakes than I've ever seen in this area. I mean, usually, I don't even see snakes around the house. I used to see the skin of a humongous rat snake that lived out back years ago, but I think I only ever actually saw it once. Now in the last year and a half, I've killed five snakes, all of them poisonous. It's weird. Anyway I can blame this on something or someone, and get relief from the current administration???

Casey

Weed-Whacker part II

2009-05-31T12:38:00.002-04:00

So, those of you who read my previous post about the weed-whacker might remember that I promised that the next time I went out back to whack more weeds, I would be wearing my snake boots, as well as my .22 LR revolver, loaded with shot shells. Saturday morning, there I was, snake boots on, revolver strapped to my hip, safety glasses and gloves on, and weed whacking away. I did the front yard just fine, and then the regular areas of the back yard just fine. However, when I started to move into the overgrown areas which I'm trying to reclaim, the old saying "as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs" most certainly applied.

I'm not sure why, I had on my snake boots that come up over my calf and are supposed to stop a snake bite. I've also got my trusty .22 LR strapped on, a Heritage Arms Rough Rider(I grew up watching cowboy flicks and can't afford a Colt :p) so I'm armed and ready, but still nervous as all get out. Anyway, I head back into danger-land, and I'm seeing stuff everywhere. Every leaf that moves, which by the way, is a lot when you're weed-whacking through underbrush, catches my eye, and I'm looking for snake. So here I am, whacking along, when some sort of movement off to my left, catches the corner of my eye. I turn my head to see if I can figure out what I just saw move, when all of the sudden, something yanks hard on the weed whacker.

Now when I say yanks, I means yanks it hard enough that if I didn't have a good grip on it, it would have gone flying out of my hand. Which by the way, is about what happened because as soon as I felt that tug, I let go of that thing like it was on fire, and jumped back. Of course, when I say jumped back, I assume that everyone understands the implied..

YYYAAAAIIIEEEE!!!!!!

Of course, even all sorts of freaked out, as I'm wondering how big the snake must be that is coming back for revenge on me for killing it's sibling/offspring, that it can yank a 10 pound weed whacker out of my hands, I'm still drawing, and thumbing the hammer back as I'm touching down again, and presenting to the target. I have to admit, I was already easing my finger onto that hair trigger before I'd even figured out where my target was. I just knew, that whatever it was yanking that thing out of my hands, I definitely wanted lead between myself and it.

I came this close | |.....This Close || to firing, and taking out a particularly ornery species of........sticker vine....also known as briars, brambles, what have you. Seems that in my inattention, I'd come down on one with the head of the whacker, instead of the trimming line, so instead of whacking it, it wound up around the head. That tug I felt was just that, the vine winding up on the head, and the head trying to keep going and wind up more of that thorny vine.

Ah well, no snakes to interrupt the day, and I got to attend a friends wedding, and drink pretty decent scotch for free. So all in all, a pretty good day.

Here's to outdoor adventures!

Casey

Peer Pressure

2009-05-27T09:40:00.003-04:00

I was discussing the previous post regarding copperhead snakes and the wild weed whacker dance with my wife last night. She jokingly said that I've killed enough of them over the last couple of years that had we saved the skins, she could have a purse by now. Then she got an odd sort of gleam in her eye, and started looking very serious, asking how difficult it would be to skin the next one. I responded that it would all depend on how the snake died. A couple of them have been disposed of with rat shot, which does a number on the skin for any sort of tanning purposes.

That started me thinking about the previous kills. This latest kill, I was all alone out back, and free to let me inner case of the willies take over when I first saw the snake. However, not the last one I killed, but the one before that, which was about this time last year, we had visitors. My in-laws were down to celebrate the birth of my youngest, Mother-, Father- and Brother-in-law. They were helping me with a little clean up from where I had put in some hardwood flooring a week or two prior to their visit. The detritus, empty flooring boxes, cut-off ends of wood strips and molding, etc., had been piled in the corner of the driveway until I could secure the use of a truck to haul it to the dump. (I gave my truck up for a nice, sensible, used, 4-door sedan with child-seat anchors, and side-impact airbags, it was a sad, sad day, and now I dream of affording a 4-door truck with the above mentioned amenities )

So we're going to load this stuff up into Brother-in-law's truck, and as the last piece of cardboard box is lifted, who should say howdy-do, but a young copperhead.(probably no more than 16 or 17 inches long) Though of course, the willies immediately grab a hold of my spine and start doing the crab dance on it, I can't get all weird in front of the In-Laws. I reach over to the truck and grab a discarded piece of two by four, and promptly crush the snakes head with the end, very nonchalantly, as if I do this every day, all the whiles my spine is doing the mamba.(hehe, get it, Mamba, poisonous snake...seriously LOLing right now) Scoop up the carcass, once it stops flopping around of course, and toss it out into the woods for whatever night-time critter gets to it first.

Thinking about that episode, as compared to the most recent episode, got me to thinking about other things, and reactions to them, based on who else is around. Both episodes ended the same way, with the snake dead and me with my spine doing the mamba(hehe). The only difference is that in one episode, without watchers, I was able to let the willies out, while in the other, I kept it all inside. That got me to thinking about other episodes where I might have reacted differently to a similar situation, based solely on who else was present at the time.

One particular comparison that sticks out in my mind occurred when I did a stint with the local county Crime Scene guys. It involved two different scenes with de-comps. (Yeah, I know, there are guys who go twenty years working crime scenes and don't see two decomps, yet I get two in five months) Anyway, at the first one, I'm with a Sergeant, so everything is very straight-laced and by the book. You just muscle down the bile in your throat, and try not to think about it as you get green around the gills. You probably end up doing not quite as good a job, because you end up rushing through your work, to try and get back out into fresh air. The first decomp had died inside a climate-controlled environment(i.e. air conditioned house) and was actually sort of dried out, almost like the beginnings of mummification, this being my first experience with decomps, I found it to be very rough, and had problems eating things like cheese or sausage afterwards. Now that I think about it, that may have been because of how it was handled.

My second decomp occurred outside, behind a small out-building. We attend the autopsy to try and get ID by various methods. Now if I thought the first one was bad, it was a breath of sweet heaven compared to this second one. It had been out in the weather and sun for somewhere between seven and ten days, and was disgustingly ripe. On this autopsy, I was with the guy who had become my partner for the time. We got on well, and tried to enjoy our work. Anyway, there I am, standing in the autopsy room holding severed digits in my hands while partner is mixing up some rubber epoxy to try and lift prints with, when the wavy feeling comes to my guts. I apparently let out some sort of sound, as partner looks back, and comments to how green I look, and maybe this will be the trip where I lose my autopsy-puking cherry. The Doc looks over and warns me about puking on his floor, or in his 'good' sink. The nurse, up to her armpits inside the chest cavity of the decomp, looks over and informs me that she won't be cleaning that mess up, so I'd better just keep it to myself. The stern look I get from the Doc and the Nurse, just set partner off, and next thing I know, we're both making fake puking noises to goad the medical professionals, and then laughing so hard, we've got tears streaming, and are about to puke for real because we can't get any air. Which of course, just makes us laugh all the harder.

Which is about the time the investigating Detective walks in, accompanied by a newly promoted Investigator. The Detective dismisses the giggling crime scene guys with a frown, and asks the Doc how things are going. I, still holding on to the severed digits, hold them up and inform the detective that the decomp "gave the Doc the Finger". Partner and I lose it at this point, holding on to the counter and gurney to remain standing, even the Nurse gave a chuckle at that well timed, and witty statement. At which point, the new Investigator, clamped his hand to his mouth, and fled the autopsy bay. This of course, sent us off into more gales of laughter, as the Detective rolled his eyes, muttered something about letting crime scene techs out of the nut-house before they were ready, and went to look for his investigator in training.

So, two different scenes(similar circumstances), and two totally different methods of dealing with it, based on who else was present. Someone who 'brooked no nonsense', and someone who was there to get the job done, and have a little fun at the same time. Gives a little food for thought on how much our daily actions are less a reflection of ourselves, and more a reflection of how we think others perceive us, or how we want them to perceive us. To be honest, I've reached a point now where I'd like to think that I don't really care what someone else thinks, as long as I know I'm getting it done. Of course, who knows for real, I guess I'll just have to look at the things I do, and see how much of my reaction is me, and how much of it is trying to project a certain image.

Casey

PS- As an aside to anyone who might take offense at laughing or practical joking going on at an autopsy, please understand that no disrespect is intended towards the deceased or surviving family members. It's a coping mechanism used by people who have to see sickening, disgusting, foul things on a regular basis. It's a way to survive without suffering a mental breakdown, or drinking yourself into oblivion.

Blushing Furiously

2009-05-27T09:31:00.002-04:00

Well, I've been linked by the lovely Brigid, and consequently, have many new visitors. First, let me say welcome to any and all who stop by for a gander. I can't promise much of anything, but I'll take a stab at being entertaining for you. Secondly, a big thank you to Brigid. I don't know how my writing can entertain someone of her obvious talent, but I'm certainly glad that it does.

Though I'm not the most frequent poster, I do try to get a little something out every now and then, and will try and do so with a little more regularity, since more people are stopping by. I hope you enjoy your time here, I know I do, else I wouldn't be here :) I'll be relating stories from my work in law enforcement, past and present, the adventures of being the only man in the house and trying to help my wife raise my daughters, and whatever else happens to tickle my fancy at any given time. Beware the randomosity. (Hehe, I'm not even sure if that's a word, blogger doesn't think so, but I like it, so it stays :)

Casey

I am not a Manly Man

2009-05-18T11:23:00.003-04:00

By manly man, I mean that guy who you see in movies, on TV, or in a favorite adventure novel, who takes everything in stride, and deals with everything like it's just another routine. The manly man who might be Brigid's ideal man, a la her post about the characteristics of a Home on the Range man.

I apparently fall short when it comes to number 4. Now I mentioned last year, about dealing with a Copperhead snake who was too close to my children's play area. I was a little wierded out when I dealt with it, and had that same experience this past weekend.

I was out with the weed-whacker, trying to reclaim a part of the backyard that gone a bit wild over the last few years. Thick ivy, blackberry canes, brambles, and whatever else weeds turn into if they can survive the ivy blanket for a year or two. I'm working by myself, and on a slope, on about half an acre of crazy growth, so I'm not trying to do it all in one fell swoop or anything. Each time I do the regular yard, I take the weed-whacker and push a little bit into the overgrowth. Basically getting what I can get with it, and opening paths to things that will take something a little stronger to remove, such as a pruner, or hand saw, or bush axe.

Now the ivy has grown there for a year or three, so that means it has overgrown itself with all the leaf litter, and it's like walking on a four to six inch thick sponge. As I'm giving a fresh buzz-cut to some ivy I've already hit before, and pushing a little further back into canes and honey-suckle, what should I see but a nice-sized Copperhead, slithering his way along about five feet from me.

At this point in the story, the Manly Man would no doubt frown at the offending snake, reach down and grab a hold of it with his bare hand, pop it's head off, toss the carcass into the compost, and keep going. This is where my story, departs from that of the Manly Man, because I believe my approximate words were something along the lines of "YAAAEEIEIEIEEE!!!!!!! ZOMG !! ZOMG !! ZOMG !!" as I jump back and turn to face the nasty little thing. Now I have no problem with benign, harmless snakes, but poisonous snakes that aren't behind glass at the zoo, flat out give me the willies. So here I am, with a poisonous snake that turns out to be between twenty-eight and twenty-nine inches long, which is pretty good size for Copperheads around here, and my hands full of weed-whacker. So I figure that this thing will whack it's way through half inch thick woody stems, and two inch thick green, plant fiber stems, so it ought to do a decent job on a snake, and I rev the engine up, and take a whack at it.

No Joy :(

All it manages to do, is piss the snake off. So I start wailing on this thing like a farmer with a hoe, all the time chanting my mantra "ZOMG!!!!ZOMG!!!!ZOMG!!!!" The little orange line in the weed-whacker doesn't even break the skin on this snake, and it's getting angrier by the thwack. Finally, I get lucky, and when I hit it's back end, and it whips around to strike, one of the trimmer strings catches it in the head or something, because it stuns it, and it drops down hardly moving. I immediately stomp down on the head with my right foot. Now, if this were on concrete, or asphalt, or even just hard dirt, this would have probably crushed it's head, and been the end of things. However, since this is all overgrowth, the leaf litter and ivy roots have made that nice springy floor that my foot just sinks into for a couple of inches, with the snakes head underneath it.

ZOMG!!!ZOMG!!!ZOMG!!!!! Now the stun is starting to wear off, and mister snake is apparently unhappy to have me standing on his head, and the body starts flopping around even more. Luckily, for some reason, I had clipped my little two-inch, Stinger knife into my pocket that morning. I grabbed it, flipped it open, reached down, and ZOMG!!!ZOMG!!!ZOMG!!!........EEWWWWWW!!! cut it's head off.

Then of course, I had to dispose of the pieces of the carcass. Even though the body didn't have a head on it any longer, my full on case of the willies made it an experience to pick that up and toss it back into the woods.

I have since decided that future yardwork in that area of the back yard will be done while wearing my snake boots I have for hunting. Also, you better believe that my .22 revolver is now loaded with those CCI Rat Shot shells, and will be strapped on whenever venturing forth into the wilds of my untamed backyard.

So, while I was the man of the house, and disposed of the venomous critter, I certainly did not accomplish it a manly fashion. Unless of course, you find girlish shrieks, wild flailing with a weed-whacker, and chants of ZOMG!! to be manly that is :)

Keep your eyes open and stay safe!

Casey

More thoughts on Concealed Carry

2009-04-26T20:16:00.002-04:00

I received a call from my mother the other day, telling me that my uncle, her brother, had a vest for me. This being a concealed carry vest, in a different color than the one he'd given me earlier in the year. I had a little excited, woohoo, moment, and immediately started plotting when I might be able to get down his way and pick up the new vest.

Thinking about the new vest, brought to mind an incident that occurred whilst wearing the current vest that he gifted me with. It's a black vest, reminiscent of the old photographer's vests, but with of course, more 'fun' things :) Lots of pockets, D-rings, snaps, hook/loop closures, secret pockets, etc. It might even be considered a piece of 'tacticool' gear. Now I don't know how you're average, non-aware, person on the street would view it, probably as just a vest with lots of pockets. However, to someone involved in concealed carry, and paying attention to their surroundings, it probably screams "Concealed Weapon Vest!!!".

The incident in question, occurred at one of the local gun shops. I'd stopped in to peruse the latest offerings in the used hand guns section. One of the Gun Shop Gurus, not an employee, just one of the guys who hang out there more than at home, and seem to know everything there is to know, pointed out that I wasn't fooling anyone with my vest. I was busily looking at the latest Colt .25 caliber mouse guns that had been traded in, and which, even though old and used, were still un-affordable on my current salary, and didn't quite catch his remark, so I responded with either "excuse me?" or "Beg Pardon?"

He re-iterated his comment, "That vest. You're not fooling anyone with it. It's obvious you're carrying a gun because of the type of vest you're wearing."

My response, "Good."

This was met with looks of bewilderment, and an owlish blinking of eyes by said guru, and the several folks he was holding court with.

I went back to drooling of old Colts, and when done, gave a polite nod of the head to the guru group on my way out. I didn't bother to explain myself, but the more I think about it, perhaps I should have.

You see, when I'm carrying a handgun in a concealed manner, I'm not trying to hide it, or make it so that it's a big secret, I'm trying to comply with the laws in my state that dictate how a handgun may be concealed on one's person. I want people to know that I'm armed, specifically, I want it to be obvious to the tweaking Meth-Head outside of McDonald's, waiting with a knife to rob someone for money to buy more Meth, that I have a gun. If he tries to rob me, or threatens my wife or children, his day is going to go downhill in a really bad way, really fast. I want anyone who might be thinking about committing a crime to want to wait until I'm out of the area, because they don't want me involved.

Do I care what the Gun Shop Guru and his constituency think of my carry method or concealment method? Not particularly. You know why? Because I'm not trying to impress him, or them, with the fact that I'm carrying concealed. If anything, I want to impress a criminal. I want there to be no doubt in his mind whatsoever, that I am a poor choice of targets for the commission of a crime.

This may sound a bit conceited, but I'm fairly competent with my handguns. I'm duly qualified through my job to be armed, and I also involve myself in a lot of training and shooting events that I feel enhances my ability to deal with unexpected situations.

When in the Academy, they taught us all about use of force pyramids, and all that jazz. The very first level of force, is always officer presence. Just the fact of being there, sometimes in force, can be enough to diffuse a situation and bring compliance from an individual.

Carrying that over to civilian life, or at least, off-duty life, will the known presence of a firearm on my hip, help to diffuse, or actually prevent, a situation? Who knows? However, if it does, isn't that a benefit? I have no desire to get into a shoot-out, either on duty or off. If it hits the fan, and I need to step up, so be it. I'll step up, and hopefully acquit myself well. However, if I don't have to step up, because someone thinks I 'might' step up, so much the better. I can pay for my gas or green tea, and go merrily on my way, none the wiser.

Just a thought, maybe you're concealed carry, shouldn't be quite so concealed.....

Casey

Nirvana

2009-03-30T21:13:00.002-04:00

Some times, I wish I had the skill of a poet. I think there are times when I have the soul of a poet, but very rarely does the skill to translate into words what I see or feel ever come along with it. However, I'm willing to give it a shot :)

This morning was one of the yearly firearms recertification dates. About a dozen of us gathered this morning at an outdoor range owned by a county sheriff's office. Since our agency is spread through out the state, there were folks from several different county offices present, though all from our upstate area. It's kind of nice as we get to see folks that we don't see on a regular basis, renew ties, and catch up on the latest doings.

We always arrive a few minutes early, just so we can get together and catch up. So there we are, a dozen agents and four Instructors. It's been raining for four days straight, and I think there was a little trepidation on everyone's part that it would be cold and rainy. But the day dawned bright and clear, if a little cool. Temperature was probably up into the low forties by the time we got started.

We're all in position, listening while the instructors go through the obligatory speech on rules of safety. Listen to the Rangemaster, only load and charge on his instructions, follow his commands for the order of shooting, etc..

During a brief lull, I glance skyward. Above me is a young RedTail Hawk. Old enough to be in his adult plumage, yet young enough to still be a little smaller and more slender than a full grown adult. He's gliding effortlessly through the air about a hundred feet above me. Just as I register the fact of the hawk and his breed, he stalls. His tail flairs, his wings scoop forward, and he just sort of hangs there for an eternal second. A thrill runs through me, because I sense that he's about to dive. He's spotted something on the ground, that is about to go on the menu. Then suddenly, with a few quick flaps of his wings, he's back to gliding through the air. Whatever it was he saw, either moved under cover, or he changed his mind about putting it on the menu. It's a bit of a let down, but then I remember where I am, and why I'm there.

The instructors are done. We all step up to the line, load, charge, and re-holster. At the order, we step up to touching distance of a targets, and assume a standard interview stance. Everyone has eyes and ears on, and the stillness is calming, at least to me. In my peripheral vision, I see some starting to fidget. I smile a little, mostly on the inside. I think to myself that those who fidget, are those who view qualifying as an ordeal, and view it's approach with dread. If they just get out and practice more, they wouldn't feel that way. I'm letting my imagination run away with me, picturing how much better my companions might be with a little more practice... When my reverie is shattered by the Rangemaster's voice shouting "TWO!!"

Reflexes and training kick in and almost before I realize what's going on, I've smashed a strike into the face of the target while shouting orders, and am stepping and sliding away as I draw, and place two shots where the target's heart would be. The stillness I've been basking in is shattered as everyone else on the line is doing the same thing I am at that moment. Then it's over. The leftover whispers of shouted commands mingling with the dying echoes of gunfire up and down the line. The smell of gunpowder is now drifting through the air. I'm hard pressed to keep the big grin off of my face and get ready for the next command.

The grin is there because the entire time I'm thinking,"it's a beautiful day, I'm surrounded by friends and co-workers, I'm shooting, and to top it all off, I'm on the clock. I'm here, getting paid to have just about as much fun as you can have, and still keep your pants on :) "

SO....maybe not poetic, but it was a damn fine day, and I had a heck of a time. Hope you enjoyed your day as much as I did mine.

Casey

Earthworm Invasion

2009-03-28T12:35:00.002-04:00

It's been raining steadily here for several days now. I'm about done with rainy days, but don't want to complain too much, as we definitely need the rain. We're well below where we should be on rainfall the last few years, and have been in some stage of drought status for several years.

In addition to the grey, rainy days bringing out the melancholy in just about everyone, it's apparently bringing out the earthworms as well. I'm not an expert on worms or anything, but I'm assuming the ground is just too wet for them at this point. What that means for me is a veritable minefield of worms on the front and back patio.

It's really kind of disgusting. You can't hardly step out of either door without squishing a worm. There was even one hanging from the chest of one of one of my dogs yesterday when I got home from work and went to let them in. I guess he was lying on the back patio, and one got stuck in his fur.

It's kind of odd. Normally, worms don't phase me a bit. I dig them up to use for bait when fishing, or will dig some up and transplant them to an area of the yard that needs some help, and where I've just spread some compost or mulch or whatnot. However, and I'm assuming it's because of all the rain, this massive invasion of earthworms seems to be made up solely of slimy worms. Hehe, even just typing it I felt my upper lip curl in disgust as I recall pulling the slimy worm off my dog's chest.

It's really kind of gross. Anyone else seeing anything unusual because of the local weather?

Casey

Trigger Grip? or 1/4 of an inch....

2009-03-19T22:25:00.003-04:00

I was at the range today, trying to get in a little trigger time prior to recertification in another week or so, and I learned something. Not so odd that I learned something, but odd that I'd never noticed this particular item before.

I, apparently, have large hands. Large enough that when I draw my duty weapon, a Glock 22 in .40 S&W, the most comfortable, and automatic grip, puts my trigger finger in the wrong the place. I've always had a bit of a problem shooting low and to the left(I'm right handed) and have been told various and sundry things that were probably causing that. Now granted, even though I'm shooting low and to the left, I shoot enough, and am a decent enough shot, that my rounds are still good shots, just not where I think they should be.

I went with my partner to the range today, and after I popped off my first mag of 15, noticed that while I had a good grouping, my group was about in inch out of the X10 ring at about 0730 on the clock. I consulted with my partner, a better shot than myself, and came up with the usual answers. Anticipating the shot, and jerking the trigger, etc.. Since today's session was to focus mainly on target acquisition, smooth trigger pulling, and utilizing the trigger reset on the Glock, I spent a little more time analyzing what I was doing.

For the first time in how ever many years it's been since I was issued my first Glock, I noticed that when I draw from the holster, assume the shooting stance, and place my finger on the trigger, my finger is too far over. I realized that I had the trigger resting inside the first knuckle of my finger. Epiphany time. That's what has been pulling my shots low and to the left all these years. You can't pull straight back, if the trigger is inside the crease of your knuckle. Well, you might be able to, but I sure can't.

So I make a conscious effort on the next draw, and once I'm on target, make sure I've pulled my trigger finger back about a quarter of an inch, so that the pad of my index finger is resting on the trigger instead of the crease of my first knuckle, and WHAMMO!! I'm dead on target, knocking the X ring out of the target. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm tearing up the X ring, and no longer low and to the left.

I shift up to the head shot, maintaining the pad of the finger on the trigger, same results. Lots of little holes in the face of the target, none on the chin.

I've always qualified, and qualified well, if I do say so myself. I've always been able to hit what I aimed at when plinking, though now that I stop to think about it, I've always compensated just a bit for that low to the left shot. I've been shooting for years, and had multiple instructors of varying levels of skill(all above mine) at the Academy, and subsequent re-certifications, that have always pointed out that I must be jerking the trigger to keep pulling my groups like that.

I wonder why none of them ever looked at where my finger was placed on the trigger? Probably because I've always shot well, just never dead center. I've always had good groups and high scores, just never the highest scores, because my groups were always a little off, low and to the left.

We'll have to see how this affects my shooting, or if today was just a fluke at the range. However, I foresee higher scores at this years re-certification. :)

Remember, sometimes, actually most of the time, it's something little, that's so obvious, no one thinks to look for it.....

Shoot straight....

Casey

Old and out of shape....

2009-03-19T08:28:00.003-04:00

Getting old just plain sucks. To be honest, I'm not even that old. Pushing 40, but still doing good. I'm not really carrying a bunch of extra weight. I've got a little bit of flab, but am dead in the middle of the charts for weight range at my height. I don't look like some cut young athlete or anything, but I don't look like a couch potato either.

A couple of days ago, it was pointed out to me that looks are most definitely not everything. I've slowed down a bit, but still move around pretty regularly. I don't have a regular exercise routine, but probably end up walking a little over a mile every day just running back and forth between our offices.

The other day we had a Code call come over the loudspeakers. One of ours was assaulted by an offender in his process of resisting arrest and fleeing the scene. We all sprint out of the door, and take up the foot chase. Across the parking lot, down a steep embankment, up a hill through the park, down through the nice shopping district downtown surrounding the park, and over the river. Ended up being about a mile and a half foot chase before we were able to get the guy into custody with the assistance of the local City PD.

This experience has really pointed out to me how badly out of shape I've let myself become. About halfway into the chase, at about the end of the long incline coming up out of the park, my calf muscles felt like half melted jello just sloshing around on the bone, with my skin being the only thing keeping them in place. I made the chase, and though huffing and puffing, was there and in place when some of the younger guys and the PD drug the guy out of the river and put the cuffs on him.

Two days later, and I'm still sore. My calves only hurt a bit that first day, but my thigh muscles are still aching. I've also learned that it is possible to overwork whatever little muscle that is on top of your foot, going up over the ankle. I apparently stretched those a little more than they were used to when I went down the steep embankment, because they ache, and really get my attention when I try to walk downhill now.

Ah well, we got the guy in the end, and made a point to everyone who saw any part of the chase. To those who might be on the wrong side of the law, they saw definitive proof that we won't stop until we get you, even if you go sliding down steep hillsides and splashing through rivers. To the law abiding citizens who helpfully pointed out which way the guy was going, we also demonstrated that we won't quit when someone is out there that threatens their safety.

It was a good chase, that ended well, with nothing other than a few scratches, and some thorn rips in pants for everyone involved. It showed cooperation between our agency, the local PD, and event a unit or two from the local Sheriff's office showed up to assist. Good times all around, and great stories to share when we're allowed to discuss details.

However, it points out that I'm no longer as young as I used to be, and can't just float along on my good metabolism keeping me thin. I'm actually going to have to get off my bum, and start getting some exercise.

Casey (aching in Carolina)

On Smoking

2009-03-19T08:17:00.001-04:00

I am a smoker. I understand that's not the most popular thing
these days, but there you have it. I smoked my first cigarette when I
was about 12 years old. That was way back in 1982 or so. If you do
the math, that means I've been smoking about 27 years or so. Kind of
scary when you put numbers to it :p

When I was in college, I stopped smoking store bought cigarettes,
and started rolling my own smokes. This was about 1990-1991. So,
I've been rolling my own smoke for almost 20 years. I have been a
steady client of a company called Natural American Spirit. The offer
a variety of tobaccos, including 100% Organically grown, and 100% US
grown tobaccos.

To be completely honest, I probably originally switched because I
was a bit of a crusty-love liberal in college, and NAS has the
association with western indian tribes, including the always cool
Thunderbird logo. However, after switching, it's become quite a
favorite. While I may be addicted to tobacco, I'm addicted to good
tobacco. I enjoy smoking a pure tobacco, that doesn't have any of the
extra crap added in.

It's actually kind of funny if you stop and think about it. I've
become a bit of a cigarette snob. I enjoy my hand-rolled cigarettes,
and look down with a bit of disdain on store bought smokes. Mostly, I
think it's because of hte smell associated with cigarettes. My
home-rolls, while definitely smelling like tobacco, don't have the
acrid smell associated with manufactured cigarettes. I've often had
people who can't stand the smell of a manufactured cigarette, tell me
that they like the smell of my smokes.

While I hold no illusion that smoking is anything other than bad
for you, I've clung to the hope that my hand-rolled smokes, being of
natural tobacco and cotton fiber rolling papers(Rizla Blue by choice)
is not nearly as bad for me. I don't know if that's an enabling
attitude that I've used to justify smoking, or maybe an actual fact.
I'll leave the final decision to someone smarter than myself.

Things have changed now though. While I still enjoy smoking as
much as I ever did, I have other factors to consider now. I've
stepped outside to smoke for years now, out of consideration for my
better half, who doesn't smoke. She tolerated me smoking inside the
house for a long while, because the tobqacco I use doesn't leave an
acrid smell. However, I started stepping outside several years ago,
the first time she got pregnant. Now that I have children, I still
step outside, but I'm beginning to worry about the image I might
present to my little ones. My oldest is pushing 3 years old now, and
I don't want her to grow up thinking that cigarette smoking is
something she should try.

I've smoked cigars and pipes off and on down through years, and
have accumulated a modest pipe collection during that time. I've been
thinking of trying to switch to smoking only a pipe. I don't know
why, but that seems a better option in my mind. Not for any health
reasons, as I'd still be smoking the same type of tobacco, but for
image reasons. In my head, I can imagine my oldest, several years
down the road, wanting to try a cigarette from a peer, because she's
seen me smoking, so it can't be all that bad. However, if her images
of me smoking all revolve around a pipe, I don't think it conveys the
same image. It seems to me, and I may be wholly wrong in this, but it
seems that smoking a pipe is something that's looked on fondly by
people as something their elders do. Not something you'd want to try,
and certainly not something young people do. I'm thinking that
perhaps if my children only see me smoking a pipe, they will be less
inclined to try smoking when they get older.

I guess that makes me somewhat of a hypocrite, but aren't all
parents to some extent?

I'm going to explore my options. I've always favored small pipes,
that don't hold more than say 15-20 minutes worth of a smoke. I've
got several that are the big hour+ smoke bowls, but have never been a
huge fan of those. I'll ahve to see what I can find available out
there. I've actually always been a fan of the small, clay pipes.
used to be that I could pick them up for a couple of bucks at the pipe
shop, and when it broke, as it inevitably would due to my rouch
handling, just pick up another for a couple of more. It seems that
for some reason, the small clay pipes have fallen out of favor amongst
the pipe-smoking community though. I find very few clay pipes in the
shop anymore, and the ones that I do find, are larger, and the
manufacturers seem to be very pruod of them, judging by the price-tags
hanging on them.

Ah well, something to investigate. If anyone knows of a source
for inexpensive($5 or less) small, clay pipes, please let me know, as
I'd love to have a source for them. I don't know if my attempt to
switch to pipes will be successful or not, but I'm gearing up now for
a switch in the next few weeks. Maybe Easterish. The end of Lent
might be a good time for the switch, as I'll be able to partake of the
things I've given up, so giving up a habit for a different one might
be a little bit easier.

I'd better run, Oh-Dark-Thirty comes early tomorrow....

Casey

Thoughts on the Zombocalypse

2009-03-11T09:44:00.002-04:00

Kind of joking around with a friend about the Zombocalypse, after seeing the wonderful Zombie targets for range practice, and had an idea. Now, you'll have to work with me on this, as it's a bit of a stretch, but just suppose, the zombies really do attack...

First off, most folks subscribe to the head-shot school of thought when it comes to zombies. Head-shot equals zombie down right? However, consider that when the zombies come, they don't come alone, or even in pairs, it's usually large groups or hordes. With me so far?

So I started thinking, and remembered a study done by the NYPD and FBI jointly(if I recall correctly) that took place after an NYPD Officer was stabbed to death by the knife-wielding suspect who was actually already dead, and just didn't know it. The Officer had done as trained, and placed multiple shots(I believe the final tally was 7 shots) center mass. The subsequent autopsy revealed that the first shot fired actually destroyed the suspect's heart. However, the suspect was still able to close the distance, and stab the Officer multiple times, resulting in the Officer's death.

The study was long and involved all sorts of stuff, but what it boiled down to, was establishing a 'safety' zone. I don't remember the exact terminology used, but they determined that a subject who is aggressive, and moving, can continue to move a certain distance and complete his goal, even when enough damage had been done to kill the subject. Hence their recommendation that once an aggressive subject breaches that 'safety' zone, the shooter should switch from a center mass point of aim, down to a pelvic girdle point of aim. I shot into the pelvis, that breaks the pelvic bone, puts a suspect down, because without a socket for the ball of the leg bone to fit in, it can support no weight. Hence the subject should drop to the ground because his body if physically unable to remain in an upright posture.

So, what does this have to do with zombies you ask? I was thinking of zombies, when the faint tickle of rememberance brought that study to mind, and I kind of meshed the two together.

If you put the zombie down with a headshot, the zombie is down, and no more than a low impediment to other zombies. However, if you change your point of aim to a knee or pelvic shot(which you should be able to do if you're taking head-shots anyway) then you not only have slowed your target zombie, but possibly some other zombies as well. Your target zombie is still going to be flailing and trying to claw his way towards his goal(most likely you), and if he's in the midst of other zombies, will be clawing on them, trying to pull himself forward. Causing a slowdown of the general zombie horde, and bringing them together in a knot of undead, especially if you target your zombies at a natural or manmade chokepoint.

With a large group of zombies, now slowed an piling up on each other as the injured tries force his way forward, you can set down your rifle in favor of more area of effect weapons. Grenades are always fun, but kind of rare if you're not active military. I'm not sure of the effetiveness of incendiaries, such as molotov cocktails, against the undead, but that would be an opportune time to test the theory out :) Also, even though I know I have never, ever, made any sort of IED out of firecrackers, or gunpowder and CO2 cartridges, or anything of that nature, and I'm sure you haven't either, I'm given to understand that such things could be made, and might make an effective weapon against a knot of undead flesh.

Anyway, just a thought that came rambling down through the old brainstem. Hope your zombie plan is a good one ;)

Casey

Mac Frustrations

2009-03-10T12:39:00.002-04:00

So, I'm still trying to figure out how to get the best use out of my Macintosh iBook Indigo that I purchased last fall. It's got OS X 10.2 installed on it, and seems pretty fun, if only I can figure out what I'm doing, right?

I do a little surfing, and find out that we have a local Mac User's Group(MUG) in the area. I check out the website, and it says that they have stuff for beginners, and make sure to bring your laptop, because they have a wireless network. Sounds perfect! I cajole my better half into taking care of the kids after work, and I toddle off to the MUG meeting, Indigo iBook in hand.

I get there, and have trouble logging into the wireless network. The pulldown shows the network as out there, I try to get in, using the password provided, and I keep getting errors. After 15 minutes of fiddling with it, someone points out that since I'm only on 10.2, and I don't have access to the latest, greatest, Secret Squirrel encryption, which is, of course, what they're using.

SO, trying to learn macs is turning out to be a lot harder than it seems like it should be. I can't even get into the network for the MUG for pete's sake. Then they launch into how to use iTunes, and it goes on for hours. Well, I assume it goes on for hours, because I leave after the first hour or so. Learning how to copy a music file from a CD to my iTunes, isn't going to help me in the process of learning how to use the basic aspects of the macintosh world.

I guess I'm going to have to just muddle through this on my own. I have to say, the more I get involved, the harder it seems to get anyone to point out just the basics. I've found some documents on teh Apple-Support page, like MAC 101, and Siwtching 101 that were helpful, but that were almost too basic.

I need to learn how to install programs and things, and why they don't work when I try to install them. Like Firefox. Got it downloaded, try to install it, and the little icon blinks at me, then is done. Why is that? Who knows, maybe I just don't have the Super Secret Squirrel passcode. But I have to say, I can't see me dropping the kind of money on a Mac that these things cost out of the box, if I don't have some grasp of how to use the bleeding thing before I buy it.

Oh well, back to piddling. Maybe things will slow down enough that I can start getting more posts up, and seeing what's going on in the world. It's been a crazy couple of months around here....

Casey

DTV is horrible!!

2009-02-05T16:42:00.002-05:00

I don't know about anyone else, but so far, my experience with this whole DTV thing has been pretty negative.

First off, there was the whole process getting your little $40 coupon from the government, and then finding a converter box. I swear, not only were the coupons hard to come by, the converter boxes were next to impossible to locate.

I live out in the sticks, no cable, no satellite, just a pair of rabbit ears to tune in the local stations, and you know what, I never felt particularly disadvantaged. There was one station you could only watch through a lot of snow, I just didn't watch any programs on that station, bugged my wife a little, but oh well.

So I'm told I have to get this stupid converter, because in February, my TV is going to go dark. I finally get the thing, and get it hooked up, and you know what? I had better luck with the plain old rabbit ears.

I don't know if it's because we're in a mountainous area, or what, but we get horrible reception with the DTV box. The rabbit ears are still hooked up to it for tuning purposes, but don't seem to do any good with the digital broadcast signals.

At least when I was watching analog broadcasts, I could still watch and enjoy the program, even though there might be a little fuzz or snow in the picture, or maybe even one of those faint, off-set, ghost images. Now, with the wonderfulness that is digital broadcast. If the signal isn't coming in perfect, I either get no signal, or I'm plagued with 1980's Max Headroom flashbacks as my television stutters it's way through a program. It really makes the program unwatchable. I can watch it with a bit of snow, but watching the Max antics which means you lose several seconds of dialogue each time, just is horrendous. Just when something interesting is about to happen, cue Max Headroom and his digital stutter :(

Just last night I was totally unable to tune in the CBS station on digital broadcast. After a frustrating 15 minutes, I decided to try turning the converter box off, and tuning in the separate station on the TV. Guess what, I watched the remainder of my program just fine. A little bit of fuzz in the picture, but no glaring digital stutters.

Thanks so much Big Brother, for forcing me to use a new and improved version of something that wasn't broken to begin with. You've done your usual outstanding job. I'm guessing some fatcat in DC is getting rich off of this. Wish he had to watch my TV....

Casey

Concealed Carry Accessibility

2009-01-13T10:26:00.003-05:00

So, while the mood is slightly moderated, here's a question regarding concealed carry. I saw a guy this weekend carrying concealed. I don't think it was blindingly obvious or anything, I just happened to notice it. He was carrying what appeared to be a revolver in an OWB holster on his right hip, covered by a sweatshirt, with a vest over the sweatshirt. It appeared that when he pulled the sweatshirt over the holster, he then flipped the lower hem, and tucked it up under the holster. One can only assumed he had some fear of the sweatshirt riding up and exposing his holster, even though it was additionally covered by the vest he wore. The vest was either a purpose designed concealment vest, or an adapted photographer's vest. Lots of pockets, and hanging down below the hip.

The question is this, is it worth delaying your ability to draw your weapon, just to make sure it's 100% covered and concealed?

I myself, when carrying something that doesn't slip into a pocket, wear it on my waistband. I make sure my shirt is tucked into my pants tightly, so as not to interfere with my draw. I then put a vest, coat, or over-shirt on, allowing whichever it is to hang open. That way, all I have to do is sweep the hanging cloth out of the way as I make my draw. Does an occasional gust of wind expose the fact that I'm carrying? Sure. Is it a big deal? I don't think so.

In my mind, I would rather be questioned by a police officer as to if I'm carrying legally, because someone saw it and got freaked out, than be just a little too slow on the draw if I were to need it in a hurry. Also, if you're going to need to draw a concealed weapon, you're going to need it fast. Fine motor skills are going to be out of the window, as you're trying to sweep back an over shirt, un-tuck a sweatshirt or t-shirt, and then start to draw.

It's one of the reasons I've never used an IWB holster. Not that I'm maligning them or anything, they work perfectly well for a large number of people. I would just think it would take a lot more training to be able to get out of that when the holster is under a tucked shirt, and even with lots of practice, I'd have to think you'd be sacrificing time. Time that could be crucial.

Anyone have any experience with IWBs or tucked and hidden holsters? Care to illuminate me?

Casey

Backsliding

2009-01-12T21:35:00.002-05:00

OK, so apparently, I'm not out of the anger phase yet. Here I thought I was moving on. I was calm, and talking with people at work this morning. Everything was going smoothly until after lunch sometime. I needed to get some paperwork done before a hearing I have scheduled for Wednesday. Before I left last week, the file was on my desk. Sometime during the three days I was gone, someone picked up the file from my desk, for whatever reason, and ended up putting it in the file room, in the stack of files waiting to be filed back into the cabinets.

Now normally, this is no big deal. Today however, it just set me off. That someone would deliberately remove something from my desk, without speaking to me about it, or at least leaving me a note. Then, to not return it to where it was taken from, and to leave it in a stack of files to be replaced by a third person.

I was absolutely raging. People were walking by and shooting sidelong glances at me, wondering if they needed to call the guys in the clean white coats. Several even commented on how tense I looked.

Normally such a thing would not affect me like this.

Guess I'm still stuck in Angry.

Anyone know how long this lasts?

Casey

Adrift

2009-01-12T10:20:00.004-05:00

I think I'm finally starting to slip out of the anger phase. I'm not sure how many stages of grief there are, or what order they're supposed to be in, but I've been stuck in the anger stage for a while now. Angry that my grandmother is gone. Not that she left me, but that the doctor's let her go. It just seems that somebody should have been able to do something, or at least seen it coming. I'd talked to her on the phone just a few hours before. She was fine, had a bad time earlier in the day, but after that, everything had cleared up. The nurses were going on about how they wished all of their patients recovered so well. She was happy, cutting up, and looking forward to getting released. Then, out of the blue, her heart rate dropped from 80 bpm to 40 bpm, and before a nurse could get to her bed in ICU, it had just stopped all together.

I just don't understand how there could be no warning, or indication of problems. She was hooked up to all sorts of monitoring equipment in the ICU. Was someone being lax? Was someone on the job who didn't have the experience to understand what the readouts were indicating?

What's done is done, and while I still have some residual anger towards the hospital staff, I'm slipping more into mourning for the loss of my grandmother. I know it's selfish, but I miss her terribly.

I was an orphan, adopted at birth. My adoptive parents got a divorce when I was just 4 years old. At that point, my adoptive father, whose name I carry, explained to me that it was ok that they were getting a divorce, because I was adopted, and not his real son anyway. Imagine the damage that can do to a 4 year old psyche.

My mother(adopted) subsequently remarried, and we were on the move a lot. It seems like we moved at least once a year. At least into a new neighborhood, if not a new city, or new state all together. Through all of that, my grandmother was my anchor. She was always there, and I would often spend summers with her and my grandfather. It was a real 'home', one that changed but little over the years. I always knew what to expect when I walked through the door, or woke up there in the morning. I was very resistant to change when my grandfather passed away over a decade ago. I wanted everything to stay the same(selfish again), but my mother got rid of some things, and changed the house around a bit to make things easier on my grandmother. I guess it also helped her to deal with the loss of her husband.

I was always in her thoughts, or so it seemed. She would always send a little note, just to say hello, with a clipping from the local newspaper if there was something she thought might be of interest. Many of the people who attended her funeral knew me, even though I hadn't seen them in years, some of them in decades. They also knew my daughters, by name at least. Apparently my grandmother was quite proud of not only me, but her great-grandchildren as well.

My anchor is gone now, and I feel like I'm adrift. I'm sure that now her house will get cleared out, and sold off, and the one point of stability for the majority of my life will be gone. Knowing that I have a loving wife and children, and will establish my own stability for them is a small comfort, but does nothing to assuage my grief and loss at the moment.

I miss her terribly, and can't seem to stop thinking about her now that she's gone. I'm back at work today, and not getting much accomplished because I end up staring into space, remembering things about her from my entire life.

It's hard to let go, and though I know it's selfish, I don't want to let go.

I'll always remember her, and I'm not sure I'll ever stop missing her.

Casey

Shock and Sorrow

2009-01-07T21:18:00.000-05:00

I went to work today, much like any other day. Had been there a little over half an hour or so, taking care of a few things, when I received a phone call from my wife. She was in tears, telling me that my mother had been trying to get a hold of me. My Grandmother passed away this morning. She had been a little under the weather, and had actually been in the hospital the last few days. Turns out the little bug she had was pneumonia. She was being treated, and responding well to treatment. She was scheduled to be released to come home this evening. That's how well she was doing. Out of the blue, her heart rate dropped to 40 bpm, while the nurses were en route to her bedside, her heart stopped all together.

I have yet to hear a satisfactory explanation as to what happened. The only thing anyone seems to be able to tell me, is that she was 85 years old, and these things happen sometime.

I was in shock most of today. I'm not real sure how I got home, or when my wife arrived with the girls, packed everything up, and loaded us all into the car. We drove three hours, most of which is a blur, to be with my family.

While there is an underlying sorrow through-out everything, the shock is slowly starting to fade. I'm not sure what the stages of grief are supposed to be, but my shock is giving way to anger. Not anger at my Grandmother for leavign me, but anger at the medical staff. This is the second grandparent who went into the hospital very ill, responded well to treatment, and after they'd been stepped down from ICU to a 'normal' ward, suddenly died.

The investigator in me wants to head to the hospital right now, and start grilling people, the grandchild in me wants to start twisting arms, and breaking fingers until I find out exactly what happened, and why, and make someone pay.

I guess it's a good thing my wife and mother made me lock up my duty weapon before I came out of shock. I'm normally a very level headed kind of guy, but right now, I'm wanting to just go do something, anything, to un-make this tradegy.

I know not many folks read this, and those who do probably aren't interested in this sort of thing, but I think I'm going to try and get things out of my head and onto the blog while I'm here, and see if it helps me to deal with this.

Hope your day was better than mine.

Casey

PS- I'm posting from my iBook Indigo, and there seem to be some issues with how I style my posts. I may try to go back and edit them when I get home so that they match the rest. Then again, maybe not, maybe this will just be how my 'on the road' posts look.

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T21:43:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year to all!!

Be smart, if you're going to drink, don't drive, and don't do anything stupid.

If you're not drinking, how about throwing a good thought in the direction of those who are out tonight patrolling the roads to keep you and yours safe.

Casey

Little Trooper

2008-12-29T16:27:00.002-05:00

My youngest, only 7 months old, is a real trooper. She apparently had an ear infection that we didn't know about, because she didn't complain all that much. She was a little fussy, but what 7 month old isn't? We didn't find out about it until Christmas Eve, when we noticed fluid leaking out of her right ear, indicating that her ear drum had ruptured. We called our pediatrician, and got a call back from the on-call nurse. She assured us there was nothing to worry about, but we would need to take her to see a doctor within 24 hours, so that she could be started on an antibiotic. Of course, no Doctor's offices are open on Christmas Day, ditto for the Urgent Care facilities in our area. So we got to spend about 4-5 hours of Christmas Day in the Emergency Room of the only hospital in the area with a pediatrician on staff on Christmas Day. About an hours drive or so from the house. Luckily, it happens to be fairly near my parents house, so we were able to drop my oldest off with them, and not have to condemn her to a day in the ER as well.

So, we get there, and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, and finally have a real doctor, confirm for us what the Nurse told us the night before, she has an ear infection, and her ear drum has ruptured, we'll need an antibiotic. Not just any antibiotic, but a strong one, that will take care of any 'resistant' bacteria that might be in there. So we get her home, and started on the medicine, and everything is going fine. Until we notice that 2 days later, she's running a fever. Not a high fever, only about 101 degrees or so, but enough for concern, so that when it still comes and goes the next day, we arrange for a visit to our pediatrician on Monday. So we get there, and guess what, she has another ear infection, in the other ear. I had absolutely no idea that they could make ear-specific oral antibiotics. It's simply amazing. But seriously, how do you get another infection, when you're already on a course of antibiotics that is allegedly stronger, and more broad spectrum than what would normally be prescribed?

Anyway, my little trooper just carries on. She's been a bit fussier, which was to be expected since she was running a fever, but I'll pick up the new antibiotics, supposedly even better and stronger, on the way home from work, and go to meet my smiley trooper when I get home.

Casey

PS- If you don't have kids, you're really missing out. I'm not saying you can't have a full life without them, but they really are amazing.

The True Spirit of Christmas

2008-12-29T14:18:00.002-05:00

I had a little epiphany this Christmas season, all about the true spirit of Christmas. I don't know why, but I don't get terribly excited about Christmas anymore. I guess that I'm old enough that I have a general idea of what I might get, and while I look forward to it, I don't really get excited about it.

I was thinking about this, and how Christmas is supposed to be the season of giving. It all came together when I was wrapping presents for my wife. I was imagining the expression on her face when she opened a present, and how excited she would be. At just that moment, I got a little shiver of excitement/anticipation just thinking about how happy she would be on Christmas morning. That's when it all made sense. It's the season of giving, and we really should derive joy from the giving of gifts. Not to say we shouldn't enjoy any and all gifts we receive, but we should enjoy bringing joy to someone else.

Now I just can't hardly wait for the girls to get old enough to really understand, and get excited about Christmas. I look forward to surprising them Christmas morning, and getting that same little thrill as I watch them open gifts, as I get when I watch their mother open her presents.

Hope you had a Happy Christmas...

Casey

Pride and Horror

2008-12-20T17:21:00.003-05:00

So, it's quite normal to take pride in the advancements of your offspring. My oldest, 2 years and 3 months or so, has just discovered how to turn a door knob. She's been working at it for a while, but today she actually managed to get it turned and the door open. That's kind of a good/bad thing there. Yes, it's good that she's advancing, but now she knows how to open the door, she will require a little closer supervision when it comes to doors now, lest she give us full on heart attacks.

Now for the horror part. My little darling, discovered she could open the door to the bathroom. While I'm in there, trying to relax with an issue of American Rifleman. I tell you, a 2 year old staring you in the face is just not conducive to relaxation, if you get my drift.....

Take it from me, lock the door when you go into the bathroom, and if you don't have a lock on your bathroom door, get one...

Casey

Pumpkin Bread

2008-12-20T17:04:00.002-05:00

OK, so I'm a little lazy, and haven't taken any pictures, I did however, just bake twelve loaves of pumpkin bread to give as presents to the day care staff who helps take care of my girls. The recipe comes out of an older(1968 edition) Betty Crocker cookbook, in their Quick Breads section. I mostly followed the recipe. I'm usually pretty good at following a recipe exactly the first time I make it, to see how they think it should turn out, and then waiting until subsequent forays to make my own twists to the recipe. Wasn't able to do that this time around though, as I was lacking certain of the ingredients, and had to adapt on the fly.

The recipe calls for 2/3 cup of shortening. You just know something is good when it calls for shortening, it may not be good for you, but you know it's going to taste delicious. I've got a recipe for waffles out of that same cookbook that calls for shortening in the batter, and they're just the best waffles ever :) Anyway, back to the story. So the recipe calls for shortening, I go to the pantry looking for my Crisco, and fail to find it :( My wife asks me what I'm all in a tizzy over not being able to find, and when I point out the distinct lack of shortening in the pantry, she recalls that she used it in a recipe last week that she took for her co-workers.

So, luckily, I've got butter. Not margarine, or whipped yogurt, but honest to goodness Land-O-Lakes butter with sweet cream, (lightly salted of course). So do the conversion, and I need a stick and a third or so of butter. Pause for a moment, and start drooling thinking how good this has to taste with a stick of butter starting off :)

For the pumpkin part of the bread, they recommend using a can of pumpkin. I don't know what really goes into the canned pumpkin in the store, can't be much different than the spiced pumpkin we put up every year using the pumpkins we get from the orchard where we go apple picking. However, the home made stuff, roasted in the oven, and cooked down in the crock pot, spiced to taste and then canned, always tastes so much better than the market stuff. We always get raves from our pumpkin pie and pumpkin cheese cakes, and I always figure it the home made pumpkin that does it.

Those are the only real changes to the recipe, though I added nutmeg instead of cloves, and didn't add raisins or nuts, mainly because I didn't have any to hand. The results, in my not so humble opinion, are outstanding. The hard part now, is going to be not eating anymore of the bread before I deliver them to day care on Monday :)

Take care all,

Casey

Busy, Busy, Busy....

2008-12-10T16:07:00.002-05:00

Well, here I am thinking I'm going to be able to commit more time to getting the odd post up, and I'm actually ending up with a lot less time. Things have just really gotten crazy. I'm guessing that because of all the madness that comes with the holiday season. I know we attended the local Christmas parade last weekend. Add to that a visit from a 'stager', who's helping us figure out what to change to make our house more appealing to prospective buyers, a black-tie charity fund raiser for the Church, several hours of yard work, mostly cleaning up leaves, and the never ending job of riding herd on the kids, and it all makes for a busy weekend.

It's looking like this weekend won't be any less hectic either. There will once again be several hours in the yard trying to take care of dead leaves, my oldest is attending a birthday party for a classmate at daycare, her first such event, I have to get started baking the miniature loaves of sweet breads that we traditionally give out as Christmas presents, and now my wife tells me we'll also be getting a Christmas tree this weekend, and getting it set up and decorated. That also means lights and various things to set up outside the house as well. Oh joy...

I'm beginning to wonder what I ever did with myself before we had kids. I still manage to get in a good bit of reading, not so much on the computer games, but still, can't seem to figure out what I did with all my time before the girls arrived. We run flat out every day from about 5:30-6:00 AM when either we, or one of the girls gets up, until about 8:00PM when they're both down for the night. That whole time is just wide open. It's funny, that during the week, it's almost relaxing to go to work. At work, I'm in charge of myself, and do things on my schedule. I can make other people work around me and my time. At home, I'm not even sure I get a vote anymore about who the world is revolving around. I spend all of my time trying to keep everyone happy. Well, maybe not happy, how about just preventing melt-downs, or at least heading them off before they turn into body-wracking sobs and wails of despair that would rend the hardest heart, much less the old push-over here.

Oh well, I'm already planning on what types of sweet, holiday-type breads to get going this weekend to compliment the Apple Jelly and Apple Butter we made this past fall. If I get a chance, maybe I'll even get a picture up. Brigid always posts pictures of her culinary creations that make me start drooling on the keyboard from even the most cursory glance. Maybe I'll try to return the favor this time.

Sadly, it doesn't look like I'm going to squeeze in any range time this month, though I do have plans to sneak out for one last hunt for whitetail next week. If I get lucky, I'll post some photos of that, and then start digging up some good venison recipes.

Take care all, and enjoy the holiday madness....

Casey

Disappointment

2008-11-25T10:51:00.002-05:00

We rented the latest Indian Jones movie this weekend, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. We'd not heard much about it, good or bad, but figured that it was an Indian Jones movie, so it had to be at least halfway decent.

Shows how much we know. The movie was absolutely horrible. Granted, you expect a certain amount of cheesiness in an Indian Jones movie, but this was absolutely ridiculous. It was like they took every little schtick moment from the previous movies, and said to themselves, "how can we put this so far over the top that it ceases to be funny?" Then, they apparently went on a Wikiwander to see what other off the wall stuff they could come up with to throw into the movie, regardless of whether it even fit with the movie theme or not.

We literally sat there through the entire movie, cringing, not only in what we were seeing, but in what we feared might be next. Just bad, bad, bad. So much so that when I got up to step outside for a smoke, and my wife got up to get something from the kitchen, we didn't pause the movie, because we didn't want to extend the torture any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Thanks so much for ruining a movie adventure icon, I hope the money you milked out of it will assauge your tortured soul. Surely it must be tortured for you to do that to Indian Jones.

Casey

Mandatory Unpaid Furlough

2008-11-21T15:42:00.002-05:00

Ayep. We just got the memo today from our Agency Director. Mandatory furloughs are in, and things aren't looking good for when the 2009 state legislature sits down in January of next year. Probably going to be looking at even bigger cuts. We've already been told to cut almost 9% from our budget, hence the furloughs.

Now, I understand that being a part of a state agency means when the state is running a budget shortfall, we all have to suck it up. However, we're a Law Enforcement Agency. Giving us mandatory furloughs not only cuts into our already pitifully small paychecks, but is going to give a reduction in force that's actually out and doing our jobs. Not to mention, that with the budget cuts elsewhere in the state, they're trying to free up some space in the prisons, so that's just going to put that many more convicted criminals out on the street and in the community that much sooner. Oh, and that's at the same time they are reducing the number of LEOs on the job through position cuts and mandatory furloughs. Maybe it's just me, but that seems like a recipe for disaster.(hope you've got your CWP)

We've been told that our mandatory furloughs, which admittedly are not as big as some non-LEO agencies in the state, is going to save the Agency 17 jobs. I hate to say it, but when I see my paycheck shrinking, I start thinking about how far away I am from the bottom, and that they could let the last 17 people they've hired go, and I'd still be all right.

I've got bills to pay, a mortgage to meet, car payments, children in day care, paying for food and gas, etc. Not to mention the holiday season coming up, and now I'm going to get docked pay out of each and every check until the new fiscal year next summer. Plus, they tell us to expect more budget cuts after the new legislature meets in January.

I swear, it almost makes you want to go out and get a job in the private sector.....

Casey

.38 Caliber Dreams

2008-11-02T13:06:00.002-05:00

We all have dreams. Some of them require winning the lottery, and I have a few of those, but some are much more reachable and obtainable. This dream is one of the latter.

I have an old Colt Cobra in .38 Special. It was my grandfather's revolver. It was carried regularly by him, whether in a holster, tossed into a saddlebag on the motorcycle, under the seat in the car, or in that little box pocket thing next to the seat on the tractor. Consequently, it's all beat to hell. The finish is worn off in several places, and it has dings, nicks, scratches, etc. However, as much as he carried it around with him, it never got used much. The inner workings are just about like new. Everything is tight, clean and crisp in the workings. I love this old Colt because it was my grandfather's, and I enjoy carrying it for the same reason.

The condition of it started me thinking of projects. I would never do anything to alter my grandfather's gun, just because of what it means to me, but I'm now on the look out for one in similar condition. Of course, I'll also have to have the pennies scraped together when I finally run across it to be able to purchase it, but isn't that always the way with dreams?

What I want is a nice, snub nose revolver, of .38 caliber or greater, that's ugly as crap because of a hard life, but still has nice tight workings. Here's what I want to do with it. I want to make it into an ultimate knock around gun. One that you won't worry about getting dirty, even muddy, or getting wet, even in salt water. I want to take it, and strip it down, and have it Parkerized. I suppose I'll also have to have the barrel chromed, or treated in some similar fashion to protect it it as well. Once the gun is Parkerized, I want to immerse it in a tub of cosmoline, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, and let it soak in the heat of our Southern summers for a month or two. Then get it out, and clean it up, leaving enough of the petroleum product embedded in the finish to make it darn near impregnable to rust or corrosion. At which point it can be reassembled, and fitted with a nice synthetic grip, maybe one of those rubberized Hogue grips or some such.

At that point, you've got a revolver, one of the most dependable hand guns around, treated to stand up to just about anything short of plugging the barrel or jamming the cylinder, that you can carry with you on hunting or fishing trips, or any jaunt out into the world, and never worry about it's condition deteriorating.

I know, not anything earth shattering there. But sometimes, it's nice to have reasonable dreams that are obtainable, just to balance out all of the pure fantasy dreams that while nice to think about, just aren't going to happen...

Casey

Kilt Check

2008-11-02T12:53:00.002-05:00

I've wanted a kilt for years. The family line traces back, if the research is correct, to Scotland's time of emigration coinciding with the Highland Clearances. Anyway, I've always loved the kilt, and there is a family tartan associated with our name. I finally had the money saved up this past August, and ordered my kilt. Now, it's not the nice, ~$800 hand-sewn wool kilt that I might hope to have some day, but an affordable, man-made material, in the family tartan, and machine sewn. Still, I like it.

I've worn it out all of three times. Not to any Highland Games or anything yet, as there have been none nearby since I received the kilt. Just out and about, to a book sale, to join friends at a pub, and the other night, to a Halloween party.

About halfway through the night, I feel this sudden cool breeze on my right cheek, followed by the words screeched out "Oh My GAWD!!! It's True!!!" Seriously, if you didn't want to see old, bare ass cheeks, why did you go looking? You know, if I returned the favor, I'd be guilty of a Sex Offense, and if convicted, could be forced to register as a Sex Offender for the rest of my life, after I got out of prison. But it's OK for you to do it, because ...heck, I don't know why anyone would think it was OK to do that unless specifically invited to do so.

Respect other people's private areas folks, it's just the right thing to do....

Casey

Obama < black

2008-10-22T20:19:00.003-04:00

So I read an interesting article today. One of those "forward to everyone you know" e-mails came my way today, and it was talking about all of the things Senator Obama claims that are untrue. Supposedly the e-mail came out through something to do with Billy Graham. I don't know if that's true or not, but one of the things mentioned got me to thinking, and to doing a little digging.

Everyone points to Obama as the first black man to get the Democratic party's nomination for POTUS. Turns out, he's not black. At least not by US Law. I forget the exact statute, look it up if you're feeling energetic, but it requires someone to have a minimum amount of a certain, ethnic bloodline to claim minority status. 12.5% if I remember correctly, something like 1/8th of your lineage. So if your great grandfather is asian, and none of the rest of your family is, you can still claim to be asian and receive minority status. If the only asian one in you family, is a great-great-grandparent, or farther away, you're out of luck.

That would actually be the case with Senator Obama. He has a great-great-grandparent that was a black Kenyan. Other than that, everyone on his mother's side is caucasian, and everyone on his father's side, excepting that one great-great-grandparent is Arabic. So that makes Senator Obama 50% Caucasian, 43.75% Arabic, and 6.25% Black Kenyan.

According to the laws of the USA, he's not a black man, or an African American, or whatever politically correct moniker you want to apply, he just doesn't qualify. He would however, qualify to call himself a white man, since his majority ethnicity is caucasian, or, if he's looking for minority status, he would qualify to be called an Arabic-American. Hmm, probably not a good choice given the current climate post-9/11.

Odd what you can find out given a few minutes searching, and actually questioning the drivel being spouted at you by the media. Even I myself accepted it without question, until someone pointed out that all might not be as it seems. At that point, finding the truth was simple.

Don't be sheeple. I urge you to question everything, and find out the truth for yourself. How many more truths will we find with a bit more searching? Too bad the media probably isn't interested in these truths .

Casey

Brainwashing?.?.?

2008-10-20T20:11:00.002-04:00

Does brainwashing really count, if the person 'alleged' to be brainwashed is a two year old child? Is it really even brainwashing if she has just somehow picked up on some of Daddy's political leanings?

Over dinner this evening, my wife began talking about Colin Powell's support for Senator Obama. I know, I know, a dark time in history when Colin Powell abandons his morals and turns his back on his country to support someone with some distinctly un-American leanings, but I digress. Anyway, my wife is talking about the retired generals endorsement, and mentions Senator Obama's name.

At which point, my young daughter puts a stern look on her face, points at my wife, and while shaking her finger says "NoBama!!.........BAD Bama!!!" As my wife is looking at me in mingled horror and disgust, my little one giggles a bit, and concludes with "Silly Bama", and another giggle.

I am just about to bust out laughing, when I feel the skin on the side of my face starting to bubble and peel......uh-oh......I am apparently on the receiving end of "The Look". My wife, a supporter of the senator from Chicago, is just the teeniest bit upset, and of course, blames me. Is it my fault that I end up being the one to take my girls to day care, and pick them up in the afternoon. So I happen to be listening to a news show, and voice my opinions, somewhat strongly. Is that a crime? Is it a crime that a mans children cleave to his own views and not those of his wife?

I may have to sleep on the couch tonight, but screw it. I'm taking what I can get, while I can get it. Think I can talk the poll workers into letting my two year old vote? What about the five month old? I want to do more than just balance out my wife's vote for the Socialissiah, and maybe edge one over for the good guys. Even if the girls only got a half vote each, that's be one for our side :)

Casey

Wal-Mart

2008-10-19T20:06:00.002-04:00

Now I know, Wally World is 'teh debil' and all that. Killing small businesses, and ruining small downtowns across America, but sometimes, you just have to go in there. Whether it's convenience, or it's the closest store, or it's the only place still open, or it's the only place you can get everything you need.

I gotta say, I went into our local Wal-Mart Saturday afternoon, and feel quite good about my experience. I walked up to the register with a couple of jars of baby food, for the little one, a bag of Ol Roy's version of milkbones for the dogs, a tub of Brummel & Brown, a kind of margarine alternative made with yogurt or some such(the Wife likes it), a case of beer for myself, a pack of CO2 cartridges because I found an old BB pistol that uses them, and am going to try and clean it up and get it working again, and finally, a 100-round brick Winchester White-Box of .40 S&W, to use in a shoot I'm competing in this week. The girl at the register never batted an eye as she rung up the purchases. Where else can you buy beer, baby food, and ammunition, all at the same time?

Now I generally prefer to patronize the small businesses, and help keep them afloat, but this was definitely a fun excursion. While I won't recommend you spend all you rmoney at Wally World, it's definitely worth the occasional trip, just for the uniqueness of your purchasing power there.....

Casey

Questions

2008-10-16T16:21:00.003-04:00

Everyone lately seems to be questioning Senator Obama's 'relationship' with William Ayers. Heck, it's been all over the national news, and was even brought up in the debate last night. My question is, who cares? So he had a minor association with an extremist, 20+ years after the fact of the guys extremist activities. Is it right? No. In the larger scheme of things, is it all that important? Once again, I'd say no.

If we're going to start asking questions about who people have associated with, let's get to the real meat and potatoes of the issue. Senator Obama, tell me about your relationship with Frank Marshall Davis. I understand he was one of, if not your first, mentors, and was almost a surrogate father to you. You must have learned quite a bit from him....... Mr. Davis......... The registered Communist..... So did his communist values and ideology influence you, or shape the way you view the world? What about Saul Alinsky? The noted Marxist. I understand you've had a relationship with him and that 'foundation' of his. How does Marxism influence you and your views of the world?

I tell you people, folks are getting stuck on the little things, and missing the broader picture. The man was practically raised by a Communist, and friendly with a Marxist. Now go back and look at his 'plans' for the country. The legislation he wants to pass. The things he wants to give to the people. In the broader light, they seem to have a distinct Socialist flavor to them. That's what scares me folks. Anyone can plainly see that over the years, we've been sliding more and more towards Socialism, and the nanny state. Hell, look at California, they're ahead of the rest of us on that slide, but seem to be enjoying it instead of resisting it.

Now I'm not saying we'll immediately go to a striated class system and 'Big Brother' monitoring your thoughts, but that's the direction we seem to be heading, what with more and more restrictions on what you can or can't own, say, or do, and Senator Obama would, it appears, love to give us a big shove on the slippery slope of Socialism.

Those are my thoughts, and they're worth exactly what you paid for them. Just keep in mind that this upcoming election is going to be tight. Third party candidates are going to make or break the campaigns. Even if you don't wholly agree with Senator McCain and Governor Palin, at least you know where they stand on individual freedoms.

Plus, I'm a working stiff. The more freebies Senator Obama succeeds in handing out, the harder I'm going to have to work. The people who don't want to work, and instead, live off of the government dime, will be funded by ever increasing chunks of taxes coming out of my paycheck, and others who have to work. Think about that the next time Senator Obama says he won't raise your taxes, and in the next breath, talks about government funded health care and free college educations for everyone. Where do you think he's going to get the money for those pipe dreams? That's right, your wallet.

YMMV,

Casey

Reports

2008-10-15T11:32:00.003-04:00

One of the perks about my job is the fact that I get to write my own warrants. Granted, it has to be approved by a supervisor, but I'm not generally going to take anything to a supervisor that's not ready for approval. If one of my knuckleheads is acting up, and getting involved with local law enforcement, I obtain a copy of the incident report, and use it as a basis for a Probable Cause warrant for a violation of whatever flavor of probation or parole they happen to be out on.

Reading the incident reports is always fun. I've got one stuck in my head right now, that I thought I'd share. Knucklehead 1.0 is at a party, and he's drinking, imagine that. After a few drinks, Knucklehead 1.0 gets a little on the belligerent side, starts cursing people, shouting, and generally being obnoxious. 911 is called, and a Sheriff's Deputy responds to the scene, where Knucklehead 1.0 is ready to escalate. He's now ready to argue with the Deputy. Arguing, not so much an issue, cops are used to people trying to argue with them. However, then the threats start, with Knucklehead 1.0 daring the Deputy to take off his badge and fight him like a man. Knucklehead 1.0 even goes so far as to try and shove the Deputy and takes a swing at him. Herein comes the best part of the incident report, and I quote:

"...at which point I placed hands on the subject, and assisted him to the ground..."

That just absolutely kicked over my giggle box. I'm snickering even now just trying to envision the chain of events that ended with Knucklehead 1.0 being 'assisted' to the ground. Props have to go out to the Deputy that authored that particular report, as it appears to be quite factually accurate, and worthy of any legal department's praise. You mention it to anyone who's ever gone hands on with a stumbling drunk, and they'll nod their heads in agreement that, yes, he did assist him to the ground. Then they'll promptly snort as they try to picture it in their heads.

Ah well, back to reading incident reports. Unfortunately, they don't all have little gems in them.

Casey

Frustration

2008-10-07T13:43:00.002-04:00

I'm somewhat known for being a bit of a talker. I have opinions, and am not afraid to share them. I'm also known as being a fairly knowledgeable guy, on a variety of topics. I often have people coming up to ask me what i might know about this or that subject. Topics ranging from ammunition to zebras. Not that I would consider myself an expert on most topics, but I like to learn new things, and am not afraid to ask questions, or do a little reading on my own to learn what I can about whatever happens to strike my fancy at a given moment.

So being a knowledgeable person, and a somewhat talkative person, why is it that I find it hard to blog about things?

It's not that there's nothing to talk about, there are an endless variety of things going on that make interesting conversation. I read blogs written by people like Brigid, and am sometimes stunned by the eloquence with which she relates stories on a variety of topics. Then I read Tam and find myself choking as I try not to spew my coffee on the keyboard. Then there's Xavier, who seems to have more wisdom tucked away than most people you could ever hope to run into.

Now, I don't claim to be anywhere near the level of those guys when it comes to knowledge, but I know a bit, even on subjects they discuss with frequency. So why is it that I can't squeeze out a post or three a week, when they're churning out material that could easily be compiled into a best selling book?

I check my homepage and see the last post from several weeks ago staring at me, almost accusingly. As if it's asking me why I have neglected my poor little blog. To be honest, I don't know, but I'm going to try and change it a bit from here on out.

I am going to make a resolution to try and get at least one post up every week. It will certainly not be at the level of some of the aforementioned writers, but I'll try to get more than just a "heyhowyadoin" post thrown in there.

Anyway, I hope everyone is doing well, and I'll see you in the next post.

Now, what to write about.....

Casey

Geekery

2008-09-16T14:25:00.002-04:00

So I'm giving my 2-year old a bath last night, and in the middle of it, she sticks her two fingers up her nose. Not far enough to plug them, just barely in there, and starts breathing heavily through her nose. It makes this odd rasping noise as the breath rattles in and out. I'm struck with the similarity to a noise I can't quite place, and then AHA! I have it!!

I jump to my feet, strike an imperious pose, look down at my daughter, point my finger at her and proudly declaim...

"I AM YOUR FATHER!!!!"

(blink - blink)

My daughter looks at me like I'm crazy. I hear the faint tinkling of laughter from the living room as my wife makes the connection between the breathing and the declaration. I of course, begin humming the StormTrooper march, and my two year old is still looking at me like I'm just a little on the odd side(this from the one with her fingers up her nose).

When we finish up, and I'm walking back into the living room, my wife is like "you're such a geek!" I'm all, "Hey, you recognized it too!" :P

HEHE

Casey

Salute

2008-09-11T14:04:00.005-04:00

The photo from last year, when, at midnight on September 10/11, members of the United States Marine Corps begin lowering the flag atop the White House to half-staff(or half-mast) in honor of those who fell on that fateful day.

The Marine on the left is saluting the flag in that memory.

What else can be said....

Casey

On Palin

2008-09-11T11:32:00.001-04:00

So, Johnny-come-lately here, finally getting around to commenting on the nomination of Governor Sarah Palin for Vice President on the Republican ticket. I know, I know, I should have jumped on the commenting band wagon weeks ago, but feh, whattayagonnado?

Anyway, I like it. I think she's a strong candidate. She's the only candidate on either ticket with ANY experience at all in the executive branch of government. I think that in itself is an interesting point. Secondly, she seems to be a bit independant, and willing to go against the crowd, which makes her somewhat of a Maverick, very similar to Senator McCain.

That's actually the one of the biggest differences I see in the VP nominees at this point. Senator McCain picked someone very much like himself, who doesn't toe the party line, will go against the current of mainstream, and do what's right, because it's the right thing to do.

Senator Obama on the other hand, didn't pick a VP candidate based on how similar he was to himself, but based seemingly on what holes he could fill in the noticeable empty spots on his resume. What seemed like a good choice at the time, has turned out to be not so much of a good choice.

Now that the Veeps are chosen, the rhetoric has gone into overdrive, and it seems like the only thing the Dems have is mud-slinging. The Chairwoman of the South Carolina Democratic Party, stated that Governor Palin's main qualification for VP was that "she hasn't had an abortion"...Seriously.....don't believe me? Read about it here.

The Democrats need to be careful. The vitriol with which they're going after Governor Palin is reminiscent of the Republican attacks on Former President Clinton. Republicans were so rabid for Clinton, that they held impeachment hearings for a personal indiscretion on his part. That kind of silliness should have cost the Republicans the White House in 2000. The only reason Bush won, in my opinion, is the fact that Gore was such a non-candidate. He didn't learn to give a stirring public speech until after the elections were over, and they were disputing vote counts. If he had shown up with any kind of oratory prior to the election, I think he might have won. I know I for one, was quite disgusted with how the Republican party had acted towards President Clinton. Now it seems that the Democrats may be putting themselves in that same boat. The blind attacks against Palin aren't going to sway anyone who is already a McCain/Palin supporter, and far from their intent, may actually drive more moderate members of the Democratic party into the McCain/Palin camp.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens. Less than two months to go, and we may have a strong woman in the White House who actually got voted in there :)

Casey