Legal Fiat.

It's time we talked about "fiat."

Fiat is Latin for "let it be done."  

Merriam-Webster's first definition of the word is thus:

"1. a command or act of will that creates something without or as if without further effort According to the Bible, the world was created by fiat."

It is used in discussions of policy to further the discussion without getting bogged down in detail.
Basically, it means, "For the purposes of this discussion, we will assume that I have a waved a magic wand, and X has occurred."

Back when I was in  high school debate, we used fiat for all of our proposed plans to solve a topic.   An example would be, say, if the topic was on how to solve illegal immigration in the United States. The affirmative team would propose a plan, such as rounding up all the immigrants, or putting up a wall, or putting a border guard every fifty feet along the border, or whatnot, and the negative team would attack Significance, Harms, Inherency, Topicality, and Solvency (which was easily remembered by a lovely little acronymn) on the plan. Or, the defense could grant that the plan would work, but that there would be SUCH a disadvantage (such as lost cheap labor, or a shortage of cultural exchange (see: cheap taco stands)), that the plan wouldn't be worth it.

At no time, though, could the negative side attack that the plan could actually be effected. For the purposes of our discussion, the plan was put in place by fiat.

So here we are in the gun control debate, and everyone seems to believe that fiat is actually a workable thing.

"We will make it against the law to possess semi-automatic magazine-fed rifles!" would be the surprisingly-well-worded battlecry of the fiat-using gun banner.

Okay.  Let's pretend that passes, and federal law makes it illegal to own such a gun:
--There will be VIGOROUS attack on the law in the lower courts, and then the appellate courts, and then in the Supreme Court.  Let's pretend that the SCOTUS also upholds the law.
--Then, let's pretend that the executive branch mobilizes to enforce the law. How? Um, they'll put out public service announcements demanding that guns be turned in, else those with the guns will suffer severe federal penalties, with time in prison.
--And let's suppose that the good, law-abiding citizens of the U.S. do turn in their guns. Because they are law-abiding.
--And let's suppose that, everytime that they're caught with such a gun, a bad, non-law-abiding person goes to prison.
--And let's suppose that the prisons are able to take the influx of new prisoners.
--And let's suppose that a large quantity of guns remain in the public hands, against the law.
--How will the federal authorities, assisted I suppose by state and local police, get those firearms? 
--Will an order be given to go house-to-house? I assure you, the local cops aren't doing that. No, they will not.
--And remember that SCOTUS which affirmed the ban? They're NOT going to affirm a house-to-house search and arrest.
--And remember how all those good, law-abiding people turned in their guns? Just kidding. You just created a felony criminal class out of OTHERWISE good, law-abiding people. Now, they're legal-neutrals.
--And remember those actual bad guys, who don't follow the rules, and keep their guns, because, you know-- they're criminals? They're going to do what they want.

Fiat is a device for philosophy. Not for improving the nation that you have now.

While Fiats can be a lot of fun, they don't always work.

Photo by Tamara Keel. (Cropped.)

Warrants: how you serve them. (For the cops out there.)

I'm a garden-variety cop. My phone number is not zero, and I'm not a Billy Badass. I believe that I am competent at my job, though, and one aspect of that job is case development and evidence-gathering. Another is making arrests of those whom I have proven had sufficient probable cause to be taken to jail. If the event was on-view, I arrest them then and there. If I put the P.C. together after the fact, I get a warrant, and go arrest them later. 


I list here the steps to getting a warrant, because it seems like there are those who don't follow them, sometimes, and they make the news. Maybe we need to publish a primer, or something. So here's mine:


The first step in getting a warrant is to soundboard your plan against a competent cop. Sometimes this is your boss. Sometimes it's a peer with another agency. But explain what you're trying to do, and what evidence you have, and ask him or her to review your plan to check it for blind spots or subjective assumptions.  This is not just about being a professional-- it's about being fair to the suspect and to the system. Sometimes an investigator will miss a glaring reason why either:
1) The charge is incorrect or less appropriate than another charge,
2) The suspect is exempt from the charge due to statute or case law
3) The investigator needs to recuse himself from further investigation due to a conflict of interest.
4) Reason X, which hasn't been thought of yet.
Lots of cops don't do this, because they don't want to look like they're not capable of handling it by themselves. I used to be like that. Trust me: the seasoned cop soundboards, and does a better job because of it.


A second step (which is not necessary in my jurisdiction but which is a very good idea) is to run your proposed action by the local assistant District Attorney. He or she can often give advice about the procedure which is helpful (after all, they're the ones you're asking to prosecute the case in court). Just as importantly, though, you're getting a D.A. to sign off on your case, and take ownership of the case. This definitely helps.


A third step, in the service of a Search Warrant or Search And Arrest Warrant on a property is to go get photographs of exactly what you plan to search. Is it the shed behind 101 Main St? Get a few digital photos of it. Attach them to your Probable Cause Affidavit for your search warrant. Describe the property carefully in the first paragraph of the Warrant Affidavit.


Go take the affidavit and the warrant (You should have a generic warrant form on your thumb drive and on an office computer. Don't have one? Get one, right now. Save it. Make it editable. Don't wait until you need it; that's too late. Ask your D.A.) to the judge or magistrate. Swear to it, and get the warrant. Attach the photographs to it.  Make a copy of the warrant for the property owner/manager/tenant.


SERVE THE WARRANT YOURSELF.
I'm not saying "serve it all by yourself." But you will physically be there. Even if you need to assemble a team of 20 snake-eating Professional Operators (tm) to help you, you will be present when that warrant is served. You will brief everyone helping you on what to expect, and what you're trying to accomplish.  "They got the wrong address" is not an acceptable excuse. In such an instance, you, the investigator obtaining the warrant, have personally failed.


You will see that everyone on the warrant service team is attired in an easily-recognizable police uniform. Warrant service is not the time to go Office Casual. This is the time for badges displayed, patches displayed, and large patches with the name of your agency presented prominently. You will all carry police identification as well, which you will gladly present if at all possible to do so safely. Every officer present on the warrant service team will be identified, and their role given, on the call for service or incident report.


You will make contact in a courteous, professional manner with the homeowner or resident or manager, and state your business. You will present them with a copy of the judge's order to search the specified property. You will then make clear that you are going to follow that order at that time. While there is a clear imperative, here, this does not have to be an adversarial dialogue. Be respectful to that citizen; you work for him or her.

Document how you go about this. Roll video, with audio. I like car video, backed up by body cameras.


Secure the scene. Be courteous but direct. Screaming "Get On The Ground" and pointing weapons at people who happen to be there is not courteous. Don't point weapons at people just because you're serving a warrant and they're present. You need to be able to articulate why they were a threat before you point a weapon at someone.  I'm serious about this.


As I've written before, don't serve No-Knock Warrants unless there's a hostage present.


Leave a list of what you took as a receipt for the resident or manager. Have a scribe keep the list during the search, and photograph what you took and what the condition of it was.


Get out.


Send a return to the judge or magistrate, showing that the warrant was served, and what you seized.




Lots of cops say, "that's above my pay grade." "That's for the detectives." "That's just the way I was shown how, and we don't have time for that." 


Fellow peace officers, a search warrant is a very specific exception to rights held by our citizens. Take it seriously. Do it right. Even if you don't do them, know HOW to do them. If learning how is too much trouble, then go find other work, please. We've got this.


Let us be professionals.

Handshakes. Do it right.

--I shook the hand today of yet another healthy grown man who didn't know how to shake hands. Friends, practice doing this correctly:
1. Open the strong hand (usually one's right) and blade the four fingers together.
2. Stick that blade of fingers straight out, vertically-oriented, with forefinger on top and pinky finger on the bottom. They are pointing in the Z axis, and stacked along the Y axis.  
3. Stick the thumb out at about a 45 degree angle from rest of the hand, looking at the hand from the rear (along the Z axis). If the hand is looked at from the back of the hand (along the X axis), the thumb should be seen to project out at a slightly acute angle from the hand, at say a 75 degree angle.
4. Hold out the hand thusly, and push it toward your target hand-shaker. Do NOT push it out all the way. You MUST retain some tolerance for the push to dock with the target's hand.
5. Glance briefly at the target's hand, and then look him in the eye. He will also attempt to shake your hand at this point, or will create an awkward moment. It is imperative that you believe that he will not leave you hanging.
6. When the target has similarly fixed his hand into shaking position, you push your open hand toward his so that the web between your thumb and forefinger firmly meets the web of his hand. This is mandatory. If this is not performed, start over.
7. Upon pushing hand webs together, ONLY NOW MAY YOU grasp the target's hand firmly, and shake it once or twice.
8. Do NOT try to break the target's hand. But don't just sit there limply like a dead fish, either.
9. It is okay to glance at the hands during docking, but during the shake, one is expected to look the other in the eye.
10. For special affection, gripping the arm of your target during the shake is permitted. This is called The Preacher's Handshake.

I shook the hand of every citizen that I met during traffic stops and calls, today.

By the way, Los Angeles PD? We're distancing.

As with the Rampart scandal, and with the Rodney King thing, the vast majority of us police are distancing from the Los Angeles Police Department's actions.

I would LOVE to read that report, in which the officers shot two paper delivery ladies, who happened to be driving a pickup similar to the one that  a former-LAPD-officer-turned-rogue-murderer had been driving.

You read the story, and you understand that things are tense in LAPD right now. But that doesn't excuse violating The Four Rules:


Click to embiggen.

Rules 2 and 4 of this list are applicable. But mostly Rule 4.
We don't shoot at sounds in the dark. We don't shoot at the BoogieMan. We don't shoot someone because he MIGHT be dangerous. And I'll throw you one more bombshell out there: We don't even shoot positively-identified murder suspects to apprehend them, absent imminent threat to human life.

Perhaps Tennessee v. Garner (1985) rings a bell? The use of deadly force to apprehend a fleeing felon is not a constitutional seizure.

Now, I realize this guy (I still hate to use his name, because he's gone nuts putting out a manifesto, in which he gives shout-outs to Joe Biden, Ellen Degeneres, Tim Tebow, and Martin Sheen. Unstable, much?) has said some scary stuff, such as:

"The Violence of action will be HIGH. I am the reason TAC alert was established. I will bring unconventional and asymmetrical warfare to those in LAPD uniform whether on or off duty. ISR is my strength and your weakness. You will now live the life of the prey. Your RD's and homes away from work will be my AO and battle space. I will utilize every tool within INT collections that I learned from NMITC in Dam Neck. You have misjudged a sleeping giant. There is no conventional threat assessment for me. JAM, New Ba'ath party, 1920 rev BGE, ACM, AAF, AQAP, AQIM and AQIZ have nothing on me. Do not deploy airships or gunships. SA-7 Manpads will be waiting. As you know I also own Barrett .50 s so your APC are defunct and futile."

He describes various groups within the LAPD that he declares high-value targets. He mentions knowing their routes to and from work.

So, scary, right?

That's part of the job. We get threats. It sucks. You go to work, and you do the job professionally, and you try to protect the citizens. And if your number comes up, then it sucks, but that's the job.

If there was ever a time to NOT oppress the citizenry, this is it. There are people that will actually take this kook seriously, and question everything about the LAPD, and declare that the LAPD is now trying to assassinate him to suppress "the truth." And if you gun down occupants of a similar pickup, they'll use that for fodder.

I remember looking for the participants in the Texas Seven gang, who murdered Officer Aubrey Hawkins about 30 miles down the road from where I was working. I remember how tense that was. I remember how we who worked deep nights checked the backs of vans, and trailers, and trucks, working alone.

I have felt that tension.

And still I say that we must now more than ever function with complete professionalism. It is at these times when it is most called for.

Tuesday is also Tuesday is sometimes Tuesday.

• I'm ready for the Genom corporation to finish the Showham Project, so that we can get some clean power. We don't even have the Genom Tower built, yet, more less the Umbrella or the Dragon Line. Sigh. 
• The Westboro Baptist Bunch did their stuff at a Baylor football game recently, and got infiltrated. I would have to know whether they were playing the Aggies to know whether the guy in the middle was one of them, or one of the guys doing a schtick on them. This is a perfect example of Poe's Law: 

• At the tender age of 41 and with a 14.5 year marriage, the thought of separate beds doesn't sound that unappealing. The thought of separate bedrooms sounds Awesome. Anyone you know do this? Results? 
• Mixed feelings about Elmo dying because his puppeteer resigned. I'll admit that I've always hated the character he made on Sesame Street. (Whose idea was it, to have a popular character speak with subject-verb agreement issues, refer to himself in third person, and then give him his own segment on a children's educational show?). No, I'm not happy for the reason that he left. Maybe they can have him die in a fire, or something, and do another program dealing with death, like they did when Mr. Hooper passed on to that corner store in the sky.
• Friend of mine on a VERY fixed income just had her oven die. Due to dietary restrictions in her family, she has to come up with a Thanksgiving dinner menu that is gluten-free, lactose-free, and beef-free, without an oven-baked turkey. My first thought would be strychnine, but I suggested cocktails all day long. 
• It's very popular among the hipsters to remind us that Israel is disproportionately responding to Hamas rocket attacks out of Gaza. Hey, has everyone forgotten that Hamas is the ruling Palestinian party, and its platform includes the downfall of the nation of Israel? When a nation stands on such a platform, and pitches wobbly rockets into your cities, you kind of have license to go off on them. Hamas is currently demanding that Israel quit making surgical strike attacks on their military leaders. The reason that Hamas isn't throwing more bombs and rockets at Israel isn't because of restraint. It's because they don't have more to throw. 
• Two things from work keep springing up, again and again lately: 1. If your intimate relationship has devolved until you are literally physically hurting each other, get away. End it. 2. When in crisis, seek the advice of the persons you respect most, and then take it.
• Heath has a really beaut Savage Model 24 D.L .22 mag/20 gauge combo rifle added to the raffle to help out Tam with her nose. At $25 a ticket, it's a steal. Get in on it. I'm about to. Hit Tam's PayPal button,
  
  and forward the confirmation email to Jennifer ( jennifer@injennifershead.com ). Do it before Thanksgiving, QUICK!!!!!
• Jay has the rest of the stuff up for raffle here. Last chance! 
• The awesomeness of the prizes and the very real likelihood that you will win (there's not THAT many [not nearly enough!] people donating and putting in chances) can distract from the fact that you are doing my friend a solid. This is your chance, at Thanksgiving, to help out a member of your community. 
• I don't know what it's like for the rest of you this Thanksgiving, but we're getting a high of 76, and may well eat out on Mom's deck. Wearing T-shirt and shorts. But we don't eat until after I get off my 12 hour shift. 
• A very close friend of mine is going through a large police academy (evn though he's a veteran cop) at his new job. They just hit him with Sabre Green spray. Different from [now] traditional Oleoresin Capsicum (O.C.) spray, which is made from peppers, this stuff is made from wasabi, and my buddy says that the difference is amazing. He and I have both been hit with pepper spray, and the thing about it is, even though it's painful and lasts a long time, it takes a few seconds to take effect. He said that this Sabre Green is IMMEDIATE, and that it hits you hard. Think about the times that you've bitten into a pepper and said "Oh, this isn't so hot. Well, actually, I'm beginning to notice OH MY GAWD!!!"  That little wait seems to be avoided with the wasabi spray. It goes straight to effect. As a big plus, he noted that it was very quick to decontaminate from, too, which is a big issue from pepper spray. Understand: if you use pepper spray on someone, you are extremely likely to receive a secondary hit from it, too. I told him that they should have waited for December, and sprayed them with both Sabre Green and Sabre Red, and called it "Christmas Seasoning." 

Lunchtime musings

--I'm doing a background check on an applicant tomorrow (Okay-- later today). He used to be police in a town an hour and a half away. I figured that I could use some help (and a road buddy). My father (still a badge-carrying cop) will be along to help provide some perspective.

--One of my favorite days at work was when I needed a backup, and it was my dad who arrived. I don't even remember the call, but I remember him arriving. Another time, we both ran hot to assist a trooper who had an arrestee run away from him. Dad knew a backroad shortcut and arrived first, just before I did. It then rained cops for about 5 minutes before we left. It wasn't that big a deal (the arrestee was intoxicated, and had run down the interstate), but it was fun seeing the old man in his plain investigator's car and plain clothes beat all the young uniforms with lights and siren to the scene.

--I will be batching it this week. Elder daughter is at band camp, and my wife is taking the week off and driving my younger daughter down to the in-laws in Austin. Prediction: the house will be even easier to keep up alone than with all three others. I know, that's a bold statement, but I stand by it. Please don't tell my wife that I said that.

--I went to go see Batman with my old college roommate a week ago, but he stopped me down when he realized that I hadn't seen the first and second parts of this trilogy. He sat me down and we watched the second on on blue-ray DVD. I have to admit that it was pretty good drama, actually. I then borrowed his DVD of the first of the trilogy, and watched it at home. Quite good movie-watching.

--Shortly thereafter, I began seeing this image making the rounds, from The Dark Knight graphic novel of a few years back:

But wait. Commissioner Gordon uses guns. And Batman uses projectile weapons propelled by springs and compressed air. His Batmobile uses cannon. He uses chemical weapons. He punches people in the head and blows things up. There were several times in the movies where simple, direct surgical shots by a good guy would have saved the day. So the issue is with the propulsion of projectiles by the expansion of gasses created by oxidation? (And what kind of shotgun is that? It sort of looks like a double barrel, but with a metal fore-end. And where is the third shell coming from? Are those the old British 2.5" shells, or are they the newer 2" tactical shells?)  Good movies are about escaping reality. Some anti-gun advocates are using Batman as their poster-boy, now. Uh, the guy is obsessed with bats, wears a cape and bulletproofed rubber suit, and is a DC comic superhero who was traumatized as a child. He's a movie hero; not a real one.

--My mother fixed her inoperative computer by herself. She is so irritated that she had caused the problem (she "flipped the wrong switch"), that she's having trouble seeing that she solved it herself, too. I call it a win. She's irritated about a lost hour of cussing.

--My old partner, now at a bigger agency, is being sent through police academy again. The treat everyone like young raw recruits, regardless of experience or age. Man, I'm not sure that I could put up with some of the stuff he's going through. On the up side, he's getting paid to go through a 5 month fitness program, and will come out of this in the best shape of his adult life. He's been running and doing CrossFit for months to prepare for this. I've said it before: they're getting a helluva good new guy.

--I didn't get him the dinner that I promised him, in time. I had told him that if he got hired, I would have him over for Beef Wellington. We haven't done that, yet. Maybe after.

--To those in distress: When you think back over your life, don't maunder. Yeah, you've done some things that you're not proud of. Maybe you're not quite the person that you'd hoped to be. But those things that you did, they don't have to define you, for rest of your life. Sure, own them, but don't act like you're marked for life because of them. Every day you have the opportunity to begin a new journey. For goodness' sake, don't work yourself into a frantic fit thinking about how your life is tragic. Change gears.

"My mind is in a state But all I need to do is change my paceAnd I know there's fear to face But happiness is firm in its embrace"

--We helped some people this week.
--We could have done more.
--We'll do better.

--Back to work. May peace be with you.
- - -

Because I'm An Old Man, Now....

I stopped a car with a pair of pretty 19 year old girls in it. They were tired, and maybe the passenger (the girl who owned the car) had drunk something, and maybe not. I let it go, because the driver was sober. I scratched out a warning ticket, and gave it to the driver, and asked where they went to school. They both mentioned junior colleges, to get their basics out of the way. I agreed that made sense, instead of what I had done, which was to go to UT for my 101 courses. They thought that was silly. I started to leave, but stopped for a second and said, "Hey girls: take this advice from a man old enough to be your father: Nothing good happens after midnight. NOTHING. Y'all be careful. G'night."

The laughed and drove off. I know that they heard me. I hope that they understood.

Random Wednesday Thoughts

--The Brit sailors on the HMS Ocean have a pretty funny Christmas schtick. The ending was actually pretty good.

--A ship named Ocean seems kind of odd. Like naming a car the "Highway," or "Road." Well, there was the "El Camino," but at least we jazzed it up with a Spanish name.

--Former Chicago governor Rod Blagojevich just got 14 years. Given that he has to serve at least 85% of that, he'll be in federal prison for at minimum just shy of 12 years. He did a great job during sentencing of making himself look like someone to feel sympathy for. He acted like he didn't know that it was wrong. He pointed out that his family would suffer, and his kids-- "It's not like their name is Smith." I mean come on, think of them, wouldja? All this to distract from the fact that the former Governor tried to auction off 1% of our nation's Senate, and get himself a Cabinet seat in the process. There's a reason why people have zero faith in their government in and around our nation's third most populous city. When you catch a fish that big in your corruption net, you don't throw him back. He should have gotten still more.

--Chicago's often called "Second City," so I had to look it up to see how it ranked in population. (I'll bet that the population density is a lot higher in Chicago than in sprawling Los Angeles.) Look at the changes in ranked cities from 2000 to 2010, and you see some trends. Houston (still #4) increased in population by 19.8%. Phoenix: 34%. San Antonio: up 22%. Charlotte: +36.6%. Las Vegas rose from the 63rd largest city to 30th, garnering 85% more population in ten years. Tuscon (+20%), Fresno (+20%), Colorado Springs (+28%), and Arlington, TX (+27%). Most are in the south. Most (with the exception of Charlotte, NC and perhaps Colorado Springs) are big gathering places of Hispanic populations.  People seem to be fleeing a lot of the colder older population centers (Philadelphia -4.3%, Detroit -7.5%, Baltimore -11.5%, Milwaukee -11.5%, Cleveland -5.4%.).

--Rick Perry doesn't seem to realize that he's been written off. He's not yet quite as irrelevant as Michelle Bachman, but he's running a close second. I've never understood the silliness of a candidate looking into the camera, and after having delivered a 27 second spot himself, saying "I approve of this message."  Well no pshit, Sherlock. You just said it. The line wasn't completely pointless when it was uttered after an actor had made a campaign advert for the candidate. But when the candidate gives the advert himself, and then utters it, it makes him sound like either he's dumb, or he thinks that you are. Oh, and for what it's worth, Rick? Your religion wasn't your big selling point before.
--I wish that sex had as much to do with my straight marriage as RINO presidential candidates seem to think that it has to do with gay ones.

--I got re-measured for bunker gear this evening. Maybe someone didn't believe the measurements. Given what they're about to spend on the gear, maybe I'd measure twice, too, before ordering. This stuff is off the hook.

--They're kinda touchy about firepeople being armed, for some reason. I assume that I wasn't considered to be on duty while getting fitted.

--We had a brief discussion about how I felt about split duties. I was fine with it. I get the concept of Area Of Responsibility quite well, actually.

--If you're 23, and you've been drinking, and you've got warrants, having a 16 year old in your pickup at 2:00AM isn't helping your case any. I'm just saying.




--

A time to listen.

19 years ago last month, I took a trip with the woman who would eventually become my wife. We didn't know where we were going, really. We had a Ranger pickup, and some camping gear, and a very little bit of money, and a desire to go see some countryside.

We headed south, because we wanted to see the Hill Country. And we headed west, because we wanted to camp in the desert. We didn't know where we were going to camp until we pitched our tent, the first night, in the Monahans Sandhills.

We went on to explore the petroglyphs among the great climbing rocks at Hueco Tanks, because my father had told me of some interesting ones that he had found there. I went right to the ones that he was talking about. I had listened.

We went north from there, and, running on fumes, stopped at the entry to the Guadalupe Mountains National Park for directions for gas. The desk ranger laughed with a friendly smile, and advised me not to give up driving north; I had stopped 400 yards shy of a gas station just around the bend from the entrance. She invited us to come back to the park. 11 years later I did, and wished that I had come back earlier. But I had listened.

We got to Carlsbad, and saw the Caverns, and continued north to Carizozo, where we met the friendliest people I've ever met, who helped us with our ailing tire, and provided us shelter from a passing thunderstorm before giving us instructions to a (then) new campsite called Red Clouds, up in the mountains north. In these days of GPS, it is surprising to think that I found the remote campsite, up a gravel track miles off the secondary roads. But we did, and we marveled at the beauty of the oasis in the mountains, green and cool above the desert below. We had listened, and were glad.

We went on to Taos, and up into the Kit Carson National Forest, where another tire let go on us. We couldn't change it because the previous owner had put lock lugs on the tires, and they had been wallowed out by over-enthusiastic air hammering. We used a repaired foot pump every mile or so until we made it to a mountain general store, and learned that the last plug patch had been sold. A passing fly fisherman heard my plight, and pulled out from his truck an enormous tool kit, from which he removed a hammer and chisel, some giant Vise Grips and a breaker bar. He saved our trip, because he had listened. (The vacationing mechanic from Clovis would take no money.)

We went on to part of the Cibola National Forest, where if we had listened better, we would have donned some clothing before the National Guard helicopter flew over us at treetop level. We still laugh about that.

Then we drove home, across the droning emptiness that is far eastern New Mexico and West Texas. This is the Llano Estacodo that has worn out many a traveller with its sameness. It is miles and miles of miles and miles. For the first time in our trip, my someday-future-bride-to-be and I got snippy with each other. It was just the irritation that the nine-day trip was over, and our money was gone, along with our vacation time at our respective crappy jobs. But looking back, I fell in love with my wife on that trip. We listened to audiobooks on tape during that trip together (I recall Scott Turow's excellent Presumed Innocent was one.), which helped, but we also listened to each other. We told each other stories and anecdotes which are now old to each other.

Hear me: the roadtrip is an experience-building opportunity for you and your companion. In this case, my companion eventually became my lifelong companion. But I think back to trips that I've made with my father, and my best friend, and my roommates, which are benchmarks in our relationships. They're a great time to talk, and to listen to others.

"So now what?"

A suggestion, Mr. Nobel Peace Prize-Winning President.

What do you do, after you announce that the most powerful nation in the world finally just knocked off a third-world-living thug, 9.5 years after he masterminded an effective attack on our nation?

You tell your military to pack up, come home, and stand down. We're in a recession, and we need to save money.

Announce the following, and note the respect that you can engender:

"We just focused the reach of our angry nation on killing one man who attacked our nation. Having killed him, we bring our troops and resources back home. My suggestion: Don't become the next target of our ire."

Then dismiss the TSA.

You might be amazed at the votes you find in the next election.

Get busy documenting.

My Sony CyberShot camera cost me $89 at Buy.Com. I had to then buy an SD card for it, and it's probably given me 1000 pics on the two AA lithium batteries that I got for it. (Trust me: those overpriced lithiums are worth the money.)

It takes decent pictures, if the light is good enough. But the thing about it is that it has a pretty decent digital video feature. If you've bought a digital camera in the last two to four years, it probably has one, too, with sound.

Use that thing. Turn the switch over to video, and record your kids, and catch them talking. Record your father, talking. Get your mother telling you some bit of family lore, or have her talk you through her method of making your favorite dish. Then upload that to your computer, and back it up with off-site storage.

The "film" is free. The memories are priceless. I recently found audio of my 12 year-old, that I made on a then-new-fangled digital recorder in 2000. It brought tears to my eyes. I wish I'd had video then.

We all know an "Uncle Jimmy," if we're lucky, and you can record treasures like this one.
(No, I didn't record it, but I wish I had, and I thank the anonymous guy who took that vid of his Uncle telling a damned funny story.)

If you're my friend or family, and it's been bugging you that I've been sticking a camera in your face, don't worry. I'm not posting them anywhere; I'm just keeping memories for me.

What to do, what to do?

I've been getting hits on a blog that I posted about 14 months ago, on Sneaking Out. Well, it is summertime, isn't it?

Most of the hits are Google or Yahoo searches that amount to some variation of "What should I do after I sneak out?"

(I note that most of the hits that I get from search engines are plain-English queries. Strange. I always use keywords or phrases. A search on the timeline of the Battle Of Hastings, I would search for with "Knut, 'William The Conqueror', 1066, England, Normandy, battle, timeline", or a variation of those.)

My answer: go see your world. Learn that there's nothing special about the night. Learn that there's nothing special to be afraid of, either. It's just day without daylight. It's also when most people sleep. This may seem like an ideal time for mischief, but it also makes anyone out and about at that time a very suspicious person, meaning that you may well be caught in your mischief.

Then go home, and get some sleep.

Don't get anyone pregnant. Don't catch diseases. Don't be out and about while your wits are dulled by drugs or alcohol. Don't hang out with strangers, no matter how exciting they may be, without a trusted friend on scene.

Frankly, this is pretty good advice to adults, too.

Great American Road Trip.

Somehow, my wife and I managed to get our collective stuff together, and are taking a bit over a week off together to go to the Grand Canyon*. We're going to load up our two girls and go do a bit of camping, and a LOT of sight-seeing.

You are here requested to provide suggestions of Things To Do and Places To See, there and in the vicinity. Tips and advice are solicited!

We do plan, BTW, on touring the observatory and we might as well go to Meteor Crater.

We've not really done anything like this. If I have my way, my kids won't be able to bear spending another second in my proximity for a month after this! It's going to be great.

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*Thanks to my house sitters! Wouldn't be possible without you.

A loud ringing in the ears.

It can happen to any of us, at any time, if you let your concentration slip.

If you drive a car long enough, chances are that you're going to be involved, somehow, in an incident where there is bent metal and scratched paint.

If you carry a gun long enough, it's very possible that you will have a lapse resulting in a circumstance that will arise, in which you hear a loud Bang, when you didn't mean to.

Without going into unnecessary detail, it's happened to me. No, not recently, but it has happened. My ears rang, and I suddenly felt a very cold sweat, as I rethought my actions and figured out what I had done to make this happen.

While I'm ashamed that I have had this happen committed this act of negligence, I can tell you that The Four Rules work. Although I had violated one (All Guns Are Always Loaded), I had not violated the other three. I had intended to point the gun in that direction, and had intended to pull the trigger. I had considered the target an object that it would not be a TRAGEDY to put a hole through.

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I was amongst a little gathering of friends recently, and was enjoying the company. We got to talking guns, and I asked my friend about his* handgun, and the trigger. He unholstered, unloaded it, and handed it to me. I looked it over, quick-checked the chamber, and aimed at a spot on the floor as I began to squeeze the trigger...

And I stopped.

What had I really seen when I "quick-checked" the chamber? Well, it was empty, of course. Hell, I had just seen my friend unload it. But hadn't I just seen a glint of bright metal where I should have seen black void?

I checked again, and was rewarded with the ejection of a quality hollowpoint round, which I had been about to discharge into the floor, amongst a group of friends. I gave it to my friend.

Now, I believe that I had it pointed in a safe direction. I believe that I wouldn't have hurt anyone, excepting their hearing. But I know that I would have had to have left that gathering, tail tucked, and might not have been able to look some of those people in the eye again, for a long time.

I thought a lot about this incident. I think of myself as a safety person. Well, so does a cabinetry-maker friend of mine who is missing some distal digits. He's obsessive about his methods of keeping the rest of them, and gives direct instruction in his shop. Well, I'm a firearms instructor, and this blog is my "shop," so I suppose I'd best give direct instruction. I have found that personal experience stories are instructive, which is why I told you about this one, today.

What do we learn?

1. Practice all of the Four Rules. If one slips, the others should keep a tragedy from occurring.

2. When you are handed a firearm, or pick one up, check its status, and see what you are looking at. Don't just go through the motions. Better yet, be redundant in your check: RACK the slide back, or push the ejector rod through the cylinder three times. You might not get an ejection, but you're not going to miss seeing it three times in a row.

3. Avoid fiddle-farting with guns among others, except with a designated backstop that you all face, and only handle them at the firing line.

This last one sounds harsh, I know.

There are harsher things to hear, though.


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* The name will be anonymous, and don't assume anything by the masculine pronoun; I flipped a coin before deciding which gender to portray my friend as.

To those of you have had just plain had it:

I've always said that I support your right to check out by yourself. That's fine. But please realize that, if you're planning to make an event with your final act, you might very well be sending support to the very cause that you're railing against.

Probably, Mr. Stack has made a fair run at casting every person who loudly rants against our federal tax system as a crazy person.

There are other ways to lodge your protests, people. If your plan involves causing an explosion that may kill someone you don't know, can't see, and never met, then you, sir, are the Bad Guy.

First day of Firearms Instructor School.

First, I noticed that the class is small. Just 6 of us.

I was impressed that they gave full measure for this class. We did NOT go home early. We did NOT take a long lunch break.

We talked about the role of the instructor, and spent a goodly time on the issue of integrity. I was pleased with this. Integrity needs to be adhered to, when you're a lowly officer, qualifying chiefs and lieutenants and other superior officers (or buddies!) to carry guns. Sometimes you're going to have to tell them to re-shoot. And if they don't do it on the re-shoot, they have to take a remedial class. And if they don't pass after the remedial class, then what?

The pressure to pass someone who failed can be very strong. But you can't do it.

In my department, I work with a handful of men. I eat with their families. I know their children's names, and all their wives. That's a tough one to have to tell them that they didn't qualify, if we set a standard that they don't meet. But I may very well have to do that, at some point. I'll for damned sure keep the standard high. And I'll raise it.

After lunch, we took a pre-test, and went to the range. This was a nice indoor range, and the targets were computer-controlled. The range officer stood behind us with a remote, and rather than giving us an audible signal to shoot, would tell us to make ready, and the targets, which had been hanging edge-on to us up to that point, would turn 90 degrees and give us the alotted time to shoot at them before quickly flipping back to edge-on, at the end of the given time.

A typical instruction would be: "Six rounds, fired from the holster at 25 yards, in strings of two shots each over 5 seconds. Shooters ready!" Flip. Target is presented for 5 seconds while you leisurely draw your pistol and shoot it twice before the target disappears. "Reholster! Shooters ready!" Flip. 2 shots. Repeat.

We shot the same course with revolver as we did with our duty pistols.

Some of the people in there had rarely shot revolvers before, and had borrowed one.

Two of the guys with borrowed revolvers were SWAT guys that I knew from the County. I saw their revolver targets, and commented on how tight the groups were. Considering a third of our shooting was done at 25 yards, the fact that their timed, offhand groups were all under 6" was impressive.

They failed, and had to re-shoot.

"Huh?!? There's a mistake here!" I said. I pointed to my target, that had passed easily with two thrown shots and a "group" on target that looked like a shotgun pattern from a distant range. If my piddlin' efforts had passed the 90% requirement, then surely theirs had.

But no.

They reshot. I asked if I could reshoot, too, just for the trigger time. This time, I threw THREE shots, and my group was even wider, but I passed again. (I had also put all my shots at less than 15 yards into the head, which was fairly tight but for one that hung outside of the ear of the silhouette.) But this time, I had noticed something about how I shot, and how the others shot. Generally, I was reholstered with a loaded revolver as the targets turned away from us. Some others shot right up to the last semi-second. Sometimes I would have partially reloaded my speedloader before the targets turned away.

Their groups were small, but in the end, they were scoring low because they weren't finishing their strings before the end of the time limits.

I'm not a licensed instructor, so I let the chips fall where they may. Luckily, the guy who was in the most trouble managed (barely) to make 90%. I told him my theory. "In the spirit of this Instructor's Course, you want my diagnosis of what your problem is?" I asked. He nodded assent. "You're too much of a perfectionist," I began.

"Well, I didn't do perfect with the revolver," he said, dejected.

"No, you did great with it, and a borrowed gun, too," I countered. "The problem was that you can't bear to see your tight groups open up. How dead do you want your target to be, anyway?"

"Accuracy is important," he said.

"It is! And I admire that you're accounting for every shot. But a necessary shot not taken is a miss. Turn up the volume, shoot faster, let your groups open up a little, and WIN. You don't get scored for Closest To Center. You get scored for Hits on the A-zone," I said. "Don't forget that your only problem is that you're such a good shooter, you've been penalizing yourself for anything less than perfection."

"Thanks," he said, and smiled, and maybe some of that smile was genuine.

____________

We all asked to stay late and shoot longer than the time alotted. It's a motivated class.

I picked up about 200+ .38 Special cases.

The guy beside me shooting his custom Kimber picked up all his .45 acp cases, and all the auto cases were either .40 or .357 Sig; I didn't want them.

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I challenged the guy with the Kimber beside me to shoot headshots during a followup round. The instructor heard this and got my promise to do 10 pushups for every dropped shot. My range buddy chickened out, and I still have thirty pushups to do. :(

More soon. Tomorrow morning is shotguns.

A polite society.

Yet again last night, I saw another example of it.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I had run into the medium-large town down the road to pick up some groceries. I had my 7 year-old daughter with me. I was wearing a clean T-shirt, some cargo shorts and tennis shoes, and my assorted pocket plunder.

As I finished putting the groceries into the trunk, I realized that I was being approached by someone. I turned around to meet them, with my right hand casually dropping into my right pocket.

The individual was a man, not of my race or ethnicity. He looked like a working man, of younger middle age, still in his working clothes of a pair of worn khakis, an untucked non-labeled button-front short-sleeved work shirt, and a very worn clip-on ID tag that was smudged beyond recognition. I didn't know him, nor did I have the impression that we had met, but we might have. I meet a lot of people who remember me, whom I forget pretty quickly.

His voice was kind of gravelly as he said, "Excuse me...?" and continued walking toward me. This was in the parking lot of a large strip shopping center that also contained the huge supermarket where I had just finished my shopping. The man came from the end of the shopping center with all the little shops that had already closed for the night. He looked mildly aggravated. He didn't seem to notice my hand in my off-side pocket. My daughter was standing next to the back door of the car, waiting for me to get in and unlock it for her from the inside, but had the trunk of the car between the man and her. She was out of traffic, and reasonably out of harm's way.

"Yes, sir?" I responded. I kept my face open, and my eyes moved from the man's face to his hands to his waist and pockets and back to his face.

"Do you know this area?" he asked. "I thought that there used to be a store that sold cut-rate cigarettes here, somewhere." I now recognized that annoyed look on his face as being the frustration of someone who has made a trip that he is discovering to be a waste of time.

"Yeah, there was, wasn't there?" I said, searching my memory. "Wasn't it in that empty spot over there? Or that one over there? I don't smoke, so I don't pay much attention," I said.

"Naw, it wasn't that one, but maybe the other one. Dang. I don't smoke, either. It's for my brother," he said. "I heard they moved, but were still here somewhere."

"Sorry, man. Maybe the front desk guy at the restaurant there will know?" I suggested.

"Just came from there. Well, I'll have to get 'em at the convenience store. They want a lot of money, you know?" he responded.

"I heard that," I chuckled, and got into my car and opened the door for my daughter to get in. "Good luck." He waved as he walked away.

As I drove away from the parking lot, I noticed a new store, closer to the road than the rest of the strip center, with a new tobacco store in it. I tried to change lanes to get back into the parking lot to go tell the guy where it was, but couldn't safely make the turn, and gave it up for lost in the medium heavy traffic.

My daughter asked me who the guy was. "Just a stranger," I told her. She asked me why I had talked to him (she herself has strict orders never to do just that, with strangers). I explained that he was just someone who was seeking help, and wasn't a threat to me, and that I try to help people when I can do so safely.

She said, "Oh, because you're a police officer."

This was complicated. "No. Not just because I'm a police officer. Grownups should be able to try to help each other, if they can, without worry about other grownups. I wasn't talking to him as a police officer, but just as another adult. We were both citizens. Do you understand that?"

She nodded. "Uh huh. And my daddy's not afraid."

"Well, not of just passers-by, er-- people-- on the street," I reiterated. "You're a little girl, now. I don't let you talk to strangers because you're very [I tickled her, at this point] pretty, and someone might want to take you away. But someday, you will be an adult, and on your own, and you will make your own decisions about who you talk to, and about what. This will be based on your own comfort level with people. That's why we talk about bad guys, and how to deal with them," I said. I realized that I was going on a bit too long for a 7 year-old.

"But that wasn't a bad guy?" my daughter verified.

"No, sweetie. That was just a guy," I responded.

"Smoking is bad for you," she said, changing the subject at c speed.

"You're absolutely right, it is," I agreed. "That's one reason why Daddy never smokes."

"You smoked a cigar with John [Shirley]," she said.

"Well, yeah, you're right, I did. And that, my dear, is the exception that proves the rule," I admitted.

"What's that?" she demanded.

"Another time, kiddo. But Daddy doesn't smoke," I said.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

If it hadn't been for my seven-year-old using the Socratic method, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. I am more willing to engage in conversation with strangers, and at least attempt to help them, because I am armed, and feel few concerns about my safety. This happens all the time. It's a genuine example of cultures intermingling in a generally pleasant manner, because the participants weren't worried about each other.

Want to engage in peaceful multiculturalism? Speak kindly to a person of another race, culture, or ethnicity, and try to help a brother out. You can't do that if you're afraid of the world.

Let me have your take on this:

Times seem to have changed. I've about gotten over the shock of seeing blue jeans and tennies at the occasional church-type event I go to (these days, mostly weddings and funerals.). But I'm still shocked at seeing jeans shorts at graveside.

I wear a uniform a lot. Most of the formal events that I go to involve court, where I wear a Class A uniform.

Let me hear your take on appropriate clothing.

When is a suit mandatory for a man to wear?

When is a dress shirt and tie mandatory?

When are tennis shoes out of the question?

When are walking shorts out of the question?

You opinon on caps and hats?

Collared shirts (golf shirts, polo shirts) versus T-shirts?

Tucked shirt vs. untucked?

And finally, buttoned-down collars on dress-shirts vs. non-buttoned-down collars? (My old college roommate Bill, has a wife who insists that button-downs are completely out of fashion, and are altogether too casual. Really? Since when?)

Gimme.

Retro has its limitations.

Look, I think steampunk callbacks to the Gilded Age and before are just kewler than heck.

But if you are home with your children in your frame house, and surmise that you've just had a drive-by (fellow going to his night-shift job) shooting (neighbor kids setting off some leftover firecrackers) out front, and your response is to:
Text your spouse about what you saw and heard, and
Ask what to do, and
Ruminate on his suggestion (via text!) to call the cops, and
Commiserate with your neighbor via phone, before finally
Calling the cops, then
I question whether you're fit to actually be taking care of those children at all.

When you're calling in an Emergency, don't just be a bear; be a grizzly.

While it's true that this person was wrong about her suppositions, I'm fine with that part. Heck, put a couple of walls between me and five evenly-spaced firecrackers, and I'd be hard-pressed to guarantee that it's not small caliber pistol-fire. Those who swear that they can tell the difference, without knowing the exact surface construction of the area of the discharge or what acoustic interference may lie between them and the source, are simply blowing smoke.

By all means, call the cops. But don't turn your whiz-bang, more-processing-power-and-better-communications-than-the-Apollo-astronauts-had-cell-phone into an 1850's telegraph key to do it. Excuse me-- to discuss doing it. You are empowered. There's a 9 key. There's a 1 key. There's a Send key. Make a cop come.

Have a plan.

Lots of people fail to do what is needed in unusual, potentially fatal situations, because they just didn't have a plan of action ready. Many times, given a cool head and a minute, they could have devised a workable plan in less time than it takes to consume a cup of coffee or a cigarette. But in the heat of the moment, none of us thinks our best (no, not even YOU, Mr. Armchair Warrior), and that's not a good time to think. It's the time to act on what you have already thought out.

Would it be better to perform a preventive drill before? Sure. But when you get right down to it, there's just too many "what if's" to be able to drill for them all. What if your neighbor goes nuts and drives his pickup into your family-mobile while you're en route for ice cream? Are you going to practice rolling out of your car and shooting over your hood while your family egresses from the off-side of the threat? Are you going to practice this in your neighborhood street? What if the threat is your neighborhood Cujo, attacking your neighbor? What if the threat involves... uh... lava? Yeah, molten lava?

Okay, that brings up another point-- there's a point where we have to just stop. We can't live in constant concern of the world and how to deal with it. There are things you're just not likely to need to deal with. In N. Texas, lava isn't a real concern. In Hawaii, I'd give it a thought.

Think about how you'll deal with a given situation. If nothing else, it makes your day more interesting. And believe it or not, if you win [?] the lottery and the unlikely occurs, you'll have what amounts to some experience in the situation. Because, in a way, a part of you has seen it before, and you know how to deal with it.*

My dad and his bride noticed a spike in reports of a new method of home invasions in his area. They discussed it, and have a plan formulated. Is it the BEST plan? Oh, I can think of some ways to improve it. But because they have a plan at all, I'll bet on them, if the balloon goes up.

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*Yes, I know that I've harped on this before. But advising people to "have a plan" is worth repeating, don'tcha think?