The way things are.

How are things? The general consensus is: "Not great."

A quarter of the nation is unemployed, thanks to a novel virus causing international lockdowns for social distancing.

Large cities are powderkegs of "protesters" and police clashing.

Cultural wars are in full swing. We have strong evidence (hell, let's just say "confirmation") of outside influence by international online arsonists who are fomenting hate and discontent on social media.

The President says that he does not trust:
The news media.
Scientists and doctors.
Our nation's intelligence services.
Our nation's criminal justice system.

The Left is cast as being full-bore socialists who want to tear down free enterprise, and get rid of the police.
The Right is being portrayed as racist, war-mongering, radical conservative, gun-obsessed zealots who care nothing for the nation's environment.

Police are being portrayed as focused on killing or at least hurting people of color whenever they can get away with it, who totally would get away with it, if The Left let down their guard.

Every use of force by police is now suspect to the public eye, if there is not a long history of the actor being a dangerous criminal, and there is not beautiful video of the event, depicting the recipient of police force committing indisputably heinous crimes (i.e., not just against police) when the police step in and expertly execute maneuver which stops the crime.

Police are assumed to be part of an inherently racially unjust system.

Because of this, people have taken to the streets in demonstrations which have repeatedly become riots. People will en masse block highways, blocking other people, to "raise awareness" of their issue. (This, to me, is akin to punching out a random old woman to raise awareness about breast cancer.)

People are stressed.

Listen to me: 

WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS.  

We as police will adjust some of the things we can, and the public will have to understand what we cannot adjust.

A vaccine is coming, and the greatest nation on the planet will get back to work again.

The current dumbass President will leave office, and another dumbass President will assume the role.

Do not get worked up over what someone says over the Internet-- chances are, they're just some Russian 'bot trying to goad you into a position of rage, to contribute to our chaos.

I and my brothers and sisters in blue will continue to try. And dammit, we'll try to do better. We have to.

I am sorry for our collective Troubles, and I will take a drink when they are past. For now, the liquor cabinet remains shut, because we have work to do.

If you can, try to be understanding of that idiot neighbor of yours, and do something kind.
If you can, let that comment box with the flashing cursor in it go unfilled with furious text.
If you can, send a little olive branch to that person that you used to think well of, before finding that they were just a little over on the Other Side on some divisive issue or another.

Micro climate.

I've always been impressed with how, even though the Official Weather Station for our area may report temperatures of, say, 39 degrees, I could have frost on my lawn. Or how when the weather station shows dry and still just a mile away, it's raining and gusting at my house.

Climate is what you expect. Weather is what you get. Micro climates personalize what you get on a regular basis. Maybe your house is near a creek, in the shadow of a hill and in the lee of the wind? You'll find that your house is dank in the cool months and muggy in the warm months, despite your local predictions of dry and fresh.  Maybe you live next to a major heat sink, like a large concrete parking lot and between large low brick and concrete structures? In such a case, your first impression out the front door will always be that a sweater or jacket is less necessary than the rest of the people in your zip code.

I also like to watch weather come through, and see the reactions by the weather stations. For example:


Click to embiggen.
 

Check out what's going on there. The two weather stations on the map on the right show vastly different temperatures despite their proximity. But also you'll note that the higher temperature station still shows a wind from the south, while the western one now shows a brisk wind from the northwest. On the bottom graph, you can see that the change in the wind brought some rain that ramped up quickly, and the top graph shows that the temperature and the dew point dropped rapidly in concert with the changing wind direction (fourth graph). All in minutes.

I have GOT to get a decent digital-compatible reporting weather station.
For I am a weather geek.

Haiku #N+1: Observation In A School Parking Lot

I see three Scope jugs
In teacher's car, and I wonder:
To hide the vodka?

The militarization of law enforcement.

In comments on the previous blog entry, Greg mentioned "the increasing militarization of law enforcement in this country."

I think that it's a concern worth having, but I also think that, by and large, our concerns are about issues more theoretical than practical.

We all shake our heads at the pictures of NYPD cops in full tactical gear (BDUs, tac vests, M4s, helmets) standing out front of their city administration buildings, and at cops going full-on dynamic entry on what should be a simple warrant service. We grimace upon learning that yet another federal agency has a SWAT team.

How about letting the U.S. Marshal's Service do the SWAT gig, and let the other agencies work with them for the most part? Oh, I can see having a Special Response Team within the Secret Service, perhaps. But the rest? They need to farm it out if for no other reason than economy. We don't require the silly redundancy. But more importantly, when you have a SWAT team, you tend to feel like you need to use it. The already unnecessary Department Of Education doesn't need to be looking at their jobs and saying, "How could we put our SWAT team to work solving this issue?"

But the fact is, those stories and pictures are in the news because they actually are news. The norm is not news. Sure, we definitely need to keep a weather eye on those guys and prevent them from becoming the norm, but day in, day out, the vast, vast majority of us never tac out, almost never pull the black rifle out of the trunk except for routine administrative purposes, and have never put on a helmet.

That said, giving a patrol officer some gear to deal with exigent circumstances as the first responder is NOT militarizing the police departments. Sure I've got a tac vest in the back of the car. I've put it on once in the past year, while setting up a perimeter around a mentally-ill armed man's house, and we took that guy into custody by knocking on the door and talking him into stepping outside. Yes, I've got a short AR in the patrol car. It's a damned sight better way to deal with an active shooter than trying to get lucky with my pistol.  Just because the military also use an AR-pattern carbine doesn't mean that having one in my patrol car is making me militarized. It's just an overlap in gear. I promise you that Marshal Dillon would have had one if he could have. I'll further point out that his Winchester lever rifle (which model? M.1892?) was pretty much the assault rifle of that era. (Yes, I am aware that I'm speaking of a fictional law enforcement officer, but I promise you that most people critical of militarization of law enforcement would probably like to see Matt Dillon. Well, that or Andy Taylor, but if you can't see the foolishness of that fictional rarely-armed Sheriff employing an inept family member deputy, then I can't help you.)

When you see that your local cop pulls a shotgun from his cruiser to answer a robbery call, you may notice that it's likely to have a black synthetic stock on it, these days. That's not a militarization issue-- it's a practical one. These days, you pay extra for wood over synthetic, and frankly, the synthetic is more durable, usually is lighter, is is less susceptible to water or oil soaking into it, and doesn't look bad when it's been scratched by daily patrol tours. When he pulls a carbine out of the car, consider that a single round of .223 into the bad guy is a LOT better than throwing stray rounds of pistol around a neighborhood (believe it or not, the .223 won't over-penetrate as badly as a duty pistol round will.) or a load of .33 caliber buckshot pellets that start off at 1300+ feet per second. And make no mistake, if a cop has to fire on a bad guy, I WANT him using a long gun. A properly-used long gun will end a fight far faster than a pistol. If it's time to shoot a threat, I want that threat shot well. I want the least number of shots taken. If a gunfight looks likely, I want that police officer picking up a fight-ending long gun.

That's not to say that I subscribe to the "show 'em you mean business, so they won't mess with you" school of law enforcement, because I don't. If a cop is on routine patrol, I want that rifle or shotgun secured. I don't like balaclavas, even on raids. I don't like cops wearing leather gloves when they're out on patrol unless it's cold or they're about to perform a pat-down. (This goes double --no, triple-- for fingerless gloves.) While I'm fine with cargo pants, I find fatigue type uniforms to be distasteful. I hate drop thigh pistol holster rigs for regular patrol. If a cop is wearing a tactical vest, he'd better be doing something tactical, like serving a warrant. (I almost wrote "high risk warrant," but a lot of people don't want to go to jail even for a misdemeanor, so I'll put up with being somewhat tactical on any arrest, so long as we're not unnecessarily kicking in doors on no-knock warrants for preserving evidence.)

As I had mentioned earlier, last time that I put on a tac vest and grabbed the carbine on a call, we were responding to a call of a heavily-armed mentally ill person who needed to be taken into custody and who had proven he was dangerous. We talked him out, and cuffed him, and got him some help, as police officers, not as a tactical unit. But we were damned happy to have the long guns, and the extra ammo, and the extra protection that the tactical vests provided, as we first responders from different rural agencies performed that role, that night. Then we put the gear back up, and went back on patrol.

Because we're not soldiers; we're patrolmen. And we are the police in what is not a police state.

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.
- - -

Coercive rape.

Define, please.

I completely believe that a man is guilty of it if he tells his victim "If you don't permit me to have sex with you, I will do X," in which X is some bad thing or thing that the man knows the victim does not want to happen.

But what of , for example, the husband or significant other, who at bedtime asks his wife or girlfriend (with whom he is regularly physically intimate) for sex, and is told no, but persists in pestering her for it until she gives in, just so that she can get some sleep? Is this not using sleep deprivation as torture? Also, does it matter if she eventually ends up enjoying the encounter, despite initial refusal? (Assume zero physical menacing took place, other than the fact that the actor was in the room with the potential victim.)

If it IS defined as Coercive Rape, what percentage of serious relationships have involved some form of it?

And if "rape is rape," does this mean that this is technically the same thing as the violent stranger attack rape that is the stereotype of the term but is less common than acquaintance rape (still rape), drugged rape (still rape), etc?

Discuss. Feel free to get your extreme (liberal or conservative) views on.

Just let it play.

From friend Rabbit, I get this.

Gorecki Symphony No. 3 "Sorrowful Songs" - Lento e Largo

Open it up, let it start playing, and then surf in another tab for the next nine minutes.

Withholding participation pending review.

I haven't read the text from SOPA or PIPA yet.

I've got friends and family who make or have made their livings from selling their intellectual property. They make something up, publish it, and other people pay for it, and they eat. "Piracy" undermines that. Someone who wants their product, and should by rights pay for it, gets it without paying.

Think of your favorite musician, writer, or programmer, and ask yourself what their incentive is to publish their work, if no one pays them for that work. This interferes with the free market.

A problem, of course, is that the Internet is not a national market; it is a global one. We can't control the world just because we say so.

In general, I'm against extra legislation. And of course the test to see if Sky-Is-Falling legislation is really needed is to stop for a day or two and see if, in fact, the Sky really is Falling.

I have some reading to do before I jump on any bandwagons, though.

And so do y'all.

Thursday morning random thoughts.

--James Carville calls Rick Perry the worst campaigner in the history. That's not far from right, when you weigh expectations and resources against outcome. Come on back to Texas, Rick, before you blow the cred that we need you to keep while dealing with the feds on the border issue in the future.

-- Officer Daniel Harless has been fired by the Canton Police Department. Let's give the CPD their due: they did what needed doing. They also reviewed the question of whether they should charge Harless with a crime, and turned it over to prosecutor.

The city law department asked the Massillon prosecutor’s office to determine whether Harless’ actions warranted criminal charges. John Simpson, chief prosecutor for the city of Massillon, said that he reviewed state law for menacing, aggravated menacing and assault, but there was insufficient evidence to support any charges.

“I’m not condoning anything the officer did, because (it’s) totally inappropriate,” he said.

Simpson said he examined the question of whether “a threat (is) being made when you say, ‘I should have’ or ‘I should do this,’ but (Harless does not) fulfill any of those.”

I'll accept that. Let him walk the earth cloaked in his own wretchedness, but no longer a police officer.

--One of our officers, who is slated to go to firearms instructor's school, has taken to completely condemning the use of pistol-mounted lasers, across the board. Given the superb design of the products from Crimson Trace, which (when mounted properly) in no way impede the normal operation of the pistol, and which are activated by simply drawing the pistol, I'm confused by his position. He says that because people will become dependent on the laser, they will quickly lose their ability to use the sights, and thus will be in Deep Trouble when the laser inevitably breaks. Only the expert, he contends, should ever have one. Our differences have come to a middle on this issue.

--There's a mounting news story about a video of some US Marines that urinated on Taliban corpses. While talking about it with my wife this morning, I was split. Hey, guys in the heat of combat do strange things. My wife sensibly said, "No. When you're in the uniform and show such disrespect for corpses, people will believe you have no respect for life. Those guys' family could have been watching. What do they think of other US armed forces in uniform, now?" She's absolutely right, of course. We need a Basic Training course called "Respect Your Uniform, If Not Your Foe". Alternately, it could be called: "Ruining It For Everybody."  Stuff like this turns our enemies into a Hydra.

--On the radio, they were going on and on about the anniversary of "The Catch," which was some big play in American football in 1982. So I went to look at it. Huh. I guess it was a pretty good throw, under pressure, and a good catch. But what's the big deal?

--We have 91,000 troops in Afghanistan. I know one of them. You probably know one or two, too. Don't forget them.

--I had two DWI trials scheduled this week. Both pled at the last minute. One of them, a felony Driving While Intoxicated Third Or More, took nine years. He's parole eligible after 1/4 of his sentence is served, if he's good, and then he has to fulfill the requirements of his parole for the remainder of what would be his sentence. It's humbling to realize that a case that I put together can take away a man's life for that long. I don't take that fact lightly. I'm proud of the work on that case. If the deputy who was originally assigned to the call had made the arrest and worked the case, it's very possible likely that the guy either wouldn't have taken the plea, or wouldn't have pled for so much time.  Is that pride talking? Yeah. It is. I'm proud of my reputation as a solid DWI investigator.  We're told in classes that the defense attorneys talk among themselves about which cops put up weak cases backed by weak testimony, and which cops put together strong cases that had best be pled out. When I was a rookie, I went to court all the time over DWI cases. Now, I hardly ever go. If that's my reputation working, then I'll take it.

--There's a prosecutor at the DA's office whose first case ever to present in court was a DWI 2nd that I had made the arrest in while still a rookie. Rookie ADA, rookie cop, professional drunk, and very sharp Dallas attorney all entered the room. The Dallas attorney did a great job of flustering the rookie cop on the stand, and some easy lobs that the ADA now would have objected to he didn't catch. The guy walked. Now, more than a decade later, every time I see that prosecutor, he comes over and shakes my hand and smiles and mentions the defendant in that case by his full name. I think that case haunts him just a little bit. But some good came out of it. I improved my report-writing so that I wouldn't be flustered at my inability to answer rapid-fire defense attorney questions. The ADA went on to become a very solid prosecutor. And, looking online, I see now that that the defendant has never been arrested in my county again*.  All's well that ends well.

--The guy at the bank lost my license yesterday. I'm not mad; I just want that thing back. He said he'd check to see if it was in the tube. Silliness. I think I may just have to go get another one. The last time I went by the driver's license bureau, the lady behind the counter, who recognized me, gave me a line pass. I was in street clothes and not on duty. I didn't ask for it. You're damned right I accepted it. I really hope that it works out that way again this time. Everybody hates the drivers** license office.

--I've been listening to Sallie Ford And The Sound Outside. Different. I like it.

--Spell-checking this document, I see that Blogger doesn't recognize the past tense of plea, nor does it recognize the word recuse, in any tense.
__________________________________________
*And that his high-powered attorney got the case expunged, too.

**Okay, should it be "Driver's License Office"?  Or should it be "Drivers' License Office"? I could make a case for either. Or should it be "Driver License Office," without an apostrophe or an S, out of consistency with the document itself, which is labeled across the top: "Texas Driver License"?***

***I just pulled out my wallet to double check that. Duh. My license is missing.

Thursday afternoon thoughts.

--A north Texas Fox affiliate has started keeping a rogues' gallery of recent public mugshots from area departments. And it's greatness.

However, Sheriff Joe's Maricopa County S.O.'s page where you can vote on their best mugshot seems seedy to me. I know, I know-- both shots come from the published mugshots published by the sheriff's office. But in the MCSO case, it seems to me that THEM publishing the voting system and showing the results is unprofessional, and beyond the pale. There's a difference.

--When I mentioned to the girls that I was going to need their help grouting after a nap, I awoke to an empty house.

--Mom's coming back home from physical rehab, 9 days after the orthopedic surgeon cut out her left knee and replaced it with a titanium and silicone man-made one. The scar from her June 1 surgery on the other knee is tiny. It still blows me away that we can routinely do this kind of thing for people who aren't Steve Austin, or the president.

--Younger readers will assume that I'm referring to a wrestler when I say Steve Austin. Hang on-- [checking] He quit wrestling 12 years ago, and is now an actor? Tells you how much of a wrestling fan I am. (Which is to say: not at all.)

--If you told a kid today that a person required Six Million Dollars to get well from a major accident, they would just shrug. According to the Inflation Calculator, $6M in 1974 dollars would be $26.2M in 2010 dollars. It won't calculate 2011. While that's a big jump, I think that the bigger jump is the amount of money that we're willing to spend on medical care.

--Which is why I'm pushing my elder daughter toward medical school.

--My kids have begun taking daily walks while on Christmas vacation. The 13 year-old keeps an eye on the nine-year old. The nine year-old tells on the 13 year-old. They have a cell phone with them. It's a good system. They're actually pretty good kids.

--The wife and I are sojourning into Dallas tonight to see The Old 97s play. I've been a fan for almost a decade and a half, but have never seen them live. I'm looking forward to it. They've got some good guitar hooks, some excellent lyrics, and they can walk the line between country/rockabilly and good old fast-paced rock. Plus, I've always loved their irreverent cover of Marty Robbin's great song "El Paso."

--I like the way the drum stutters as he's making his way back to Rosa's Cantina.

--The moon last night hung like a question mark, but when I saw it setting, it wasn't bold as milk; it looked more like a tequila sunrise.

--I accepted a minor challenge from a friend the night before last, and did 12 minutes of Crossfit, thinking afterwards that I would do 12:30 the next day. Um, no. There seems to be a mass that has grown between my chest and my knees, making situps/crunches much harder than I remember them. Odd. I get that XFit is scalable to your ability. But it's probably smart to understand your baseline. We'll do 12 minutes again, here in just a bit, to see how many sets I get through. (5 pushups, 10 situps, and 15 squats, wash-rinse-repeat, during the time set aside.)

--My 13 year-old daughter came in while I was doing the sets, laughed at me, and started doing the cycles with me. The next day she wasn't laughing so much. But it still makes me a little smug that she does good pushups without a second thought. Most girls just aren't taught to.

--I need to test her for time on the disassembly-reassembly-function check on my 1911s again. She was pretty brisk at it, as a 9 year-old. I need to also check the 9-year-old out on that.

--Why is Steven Tyler suddenly in the news so much, lately? I've liked Aerosmith since I was in junior high, and he's their frontman, but they haven't really done much beyond rock power ballads for the last 20 years, and... and... okay, I'm an ageist. Tyler's a guy in his 60's who wears gender-ambiguous garb and goofy hats, and still clearly uses a great deal of recreational drugs. Grampaw should start to act his age, or sumpin'.

--

Just stop it.

My mother and I were talking today about the public reaction to the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001.

And we're appalled.

"Commemoration" isn't such a distant cousin of a word from "Celebration." It would seem that many have forgotten that there actually is a difference, and that those that know it seem to be blurring the lines pretty heavily.

I get that no documentarian worth his salt would fail to comment on the tenth year passing since our nation suffered an attack that had such ramifications. But the goal of those watching, and the goal of those showing the documentaries seems to be a type of entertainment.

Like a horror movie. "Ooh, it gives me shivers to remember where I was when I heard..."

I'm disgusted, and I'm not participating.

You want to wave our flag? Push to bring back most of our troops from the errands we've sent them on. Push to sunset the Patriot Act for good. Push to fire the TSA. Push to strengthen our borders (still as porous as they were 10 years ago, from what I see.).

But don't use some arbitrary tenth anniversary of the death of our countrymen as a day to be entertained. Do something GOOD for your country for a change, would you, please? We've spent the last 3,652 days dismantling it.

So what's the message?

Glenn Beck puts together a supposedly bipartisan rally on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, 47 years after MLK gave his remarkable "I Have A Dream" speech.

Beck says that he wants us to "Restore traditional American values."

Which traditional American values are those? Me, I like my apple pie made with Granny Smith apples and a woven top crust, sometimes served with a little bit of cheddar cheese melted on it. But others may not, so I'm not even so sure what's a TAV.

I always get nervous when people talk about restoring traditional American values. Is that pre-Brown v. Board Of Education American values? Pre Dred Scott American values? Pre- Emancipation Proclamation American values? Pre-19th Amendment American values? Pre-14th Amendment American values? Pre-Keller American values?

We sometimes forget how great this nation is, today.

Maybe Mr. Beck (some guy I never had heard of before this month) is doing a great thing. But his message is ambiguous, and I have to agree with Roberta X's assessment, right now: "It isn't that I really dislike him, I just think the man's got a lot more Huey Long -- or P.T. Barnum -- to him than he has Ayn Rand."

____________________
H/T to Tam.

Bah. Humbug. Thank you.

There's snow on the ground. My girls were giddy as I took them to school today. It won't last, but it's a fun sight for north Texas in early December.

The New York Times published a fun little bit of history: The original manuscript for A Christmas Carol. Like I always do, I flipped quickly to my favorite part, about Old Fezziwig:

“He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?”

“It isn’t that,” said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. “It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.”

Dickens was writing about more than some silly feeling evoked by a season. He was writing about the simple acts of kindness that bring dignity and even joy to one's labors. You may not be a supervisor, but you probably have co-workers. You, by yourself, can make their existence a little more cheerful, and not in that schmaltzy way of greeting cards and tinsel. Every time you make a person feel welcome at their job, or proud of their work, you have helped give their life some more meaning.

I'm not kidding about this.

Try to catch somebody doing their job well, and tell them that you notice it. And after chatting with a co-worker or a friend or even a family member, thank them for their time and conversation. (I learned this last one recently from my friend John Shirley, who teaches me small but important things, once in a while.)

Consider this my late Thanksgiving post. I give thanks for those around me-- even strangers-- who help give joy and meaning to my life.

“A small matter,” said the Ghost, “to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.”

“Small!” echoed Scrooge.

A new face for an old name.

I assume that everyone does this, but maybe I'm wrong, so let me know:

Whenever I hear a name of a person that I've not yet met or seen, my mind categorizes them into a cubbyhole in my brain with a picture of the first person that I ever knew with that name stamped on it. When I hear of a "Jennifer," I think of an attractive young woman with long straight dark hair that looks like my first cousin Jennifer. When I hear of a Howard, I think of a broad-faced English fellow that I went to junior high school with. "Sean" is a wild-eyed blonde kid who was my best friend when I was 5. "Edward" is a skinny black kid I hung out with in the summers as a kid.

Sure, I have to translate them to adults, but you get it, right?

Well, I've never actually known an Earl. So I've pretty much just either put a heavy-set stereotypical heavyset Bubba figure into the picture slot, or Tom Petty (who tells us that's his middle name.).

My mother, shortly after she fired up her blog, called me and asked how to plug in an Earl. I asked her what she meant. Actually, I said, "Huh?!?"

"You know. That long computor code, showing where you find a file on a computer or on on the Internet," she said*, frustrated with me.

It dawned on me, finally. "Ohhhh. You mean the U.R.L. Heh. That's the Uniform Resource Locator," I said, cracking up.

"Yeah. The Earl," she responded, kind of grumpily, now.

So for the last two and a half years, I've been thinking URL whenever I hear the world "Earl."

Now I can see something else: This is Url.





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*I'm paraphrasing, here-- this conversation took awhile to parse out.

Pale blue dot.

For too many, Carl Sagan was just a running joke about "billions and billions." But the man was taken with the giant* scale of the universe. As a thinking man, he couldn't help but have that affect his philosophy.

Take three and a half minutes, and go listen to the simple, profound words of a great thinker whom we lost too early.

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*Edit.

Political Distribution.

There are shades of gray.


It would seem that people are so busy identifying the difference between black and white, that they forget that the vast majority of the world falls somewhere in between.


Most people tend to think of their political affiliations as falling along a single line, like this:

But it's not really that simple. It's at the very least two-dimensional, like this:

The above graphic is one that I sketched from memory, from a lecture by Dr. Robert Taylor in a graduate class on terrorism. This was early on in the class, and we were discussing what drives people that were allegedly on opposite ends of the political spectrum to take up very, very similar positions and tactics.

It's funny how worked up people get in their identity with regard to which side of the centerline that they fall.

I worry about the polarization that I see in our nation.

I worry about the civil Cold War that looms.

Embracing capitalism with a capital C.

My wife and I have decided that we hate being poor.

We have very little faith in our retirements being there for us, as managed by our employers, or by our government. We would like to save it ourselves.

But at the rate the dollar is shrinking, simply "saving" it is madness. Might as well use cash for home heating. So now, as is most of the time, it is a good time to invest.

Truthfully? It's a GREAT time to invest. Stocks are low. The dollar hasn't bottomed out. The upswing will eventually come, when the panic sellers realize that it's time to pull their heads out of the sand, dust off their hands, and get back to business. There are bargains to be had out there.

The one that I look at a lot is oil. This country, along with the world, runs on the stuff. And for all our happy nattering about reducing our dependency on it, the world market is thirsty for it. But right this minute, that lovely commodity has fallen from over $120 a barrel to under $48 a barrel. (Gone are the days when a character actor formerly known as Major Nelson could create a huge stir by proclaiming at a convention that this nation would soon see $50 a barrel, as in the early '80s.) I'm trying to decide between futures or shares in oil companies. But I still won't ever own Exxon stock. Screw'm.

Then, too, we look at mutual funds, like Vanguard. Sure, they've taken a kick to the huevos, lately, but in the long run, they perform. The thing is, I don't want to buy a single share of a company that took bailout money from the feds. We cops think a lot about the old "fruit of the poisonous tree," and I don't want any. I also don't want to do business with banks that took bailout money from the government. You know how there are those "ethical funds," that only have stocks in green, fair-trade, no rain forests endangered, free of animal testing companies? I want to buy shares in a "No Socialism" fund. I'd buy as much as I could afford.

We're looking at buying in little steps at a time, say $2000 per purchase. When the bucket fills back up again, we'll buy another $2000.

We're ready to spend some money to make some money, here.

Wish for the new year.

Tonight, I'm going to patrol around my little town, and do what I'm able to do to keep the peace.

On this, the last evening of 2008, I wonder how many others are considering doing the same, for themselves? For, instead of a contemplative pint and perhaps a celebratory kiss of the neighbor near them, it's pretty common to see folks who take this passage of the year as a challenge to remove reason from the equation, through the magic of ancient biochemistry.

Why are we so very reluctant to be alone with our own thoughts?

Even sober, we demand to be distracted from ourselves. Car radios and iPods while driving (with DVDs and video games in the back for the kiddies). Perhaps a quick cell call to someone. If worse comes to worse, even a book on the highway. (Done it. Seen it done.) At home, there's the TV, the DVDs, the music, the InterWeb, the books, magazines, and whatnot. We feel the need to be outside of our own head.

Peace is a damned hard quality to find, within. Yet we claim to hope to find it, or even enforce it (!) without. Interesting.

Hamas is firing rockets into Israeli kindergartens even as the Israeli cabinet meets to discuss the immediate cessation of airstrikes in Gaza, and then claims that the Israelis refuse offers of peace and truce. This isn't even particularly good theatre; Hamas doesn't want peace. Firing rockets 28 miles into a town over the horizon isn't tactically very useful, but it certain pisses off the folks that you'd like portray publicly as your oppressors, eh wot? Very much the same as walking a bomb into a marketplace. It causes retaliation, which is actually what you want. Even that rather ineffective idjit Che Guevara knew that.

I'm drinking today, but only coffee, and lots of it. The warmth and the pleasant buzz of the caffeine go well with this sunny, bright, cool and breezy winter day.

I have regrets from this past year. I regret getting B's in graduate classes that I could certainly have obtained A's in. I regret putting on about 15 pounds that I shall have to cut this spring. I regret some things I've said, and some opportunities that I missed. I've yelled at my kids louder than I should have, and I've failed to give them time when I should have done so.

But I have some things that I'm glad of. I still look down at the daisies, rather than up at 'em. I bought, renovated, and moved into an old house that looks fairly decent these days. I've advanced myself to within two classes and a thesis of my Masters degree, while working. I put a few bad guys in jail, as well as some good guys who just weren't acting right, and I treated them all professionally. (Every one. Even the ones that potentially endangered my family.) I've watched my kids grow, and have taken a pretty strong part in making them grow. My elder daughter can do 25 perfect push ups (she's beginning to practice fingertip push ups), can disassemble and reassemble firearms, and reads voraciously, sometimes in the quiet company of her surprising array of friends. My younger daughter has learned to read, calls her best friend daily, and shows manners. I had something to do with all of that. That gives me peace, friends.

My new year's resolution will be to obtain more peace. Eliminating regrets is one way. But my friend John Shirley says that eliminating desire is another. That's a tall order, right there. And my need for an early Webley .455 is great.

May you have a happy new year. And may peace be with you.

Devices.

As a youngster, if you had asked me to define "device," I would have uttered a definition that was synonymous with "contraption." And indeed, Merriam-Webster agrees with me. Sort of.

Definition 1 for M.W.'s entry for Device includes: "a piece of equipment or a mechanism designed to serve a special purpose or perform a special function," which meets the contraption-concept that I had in mind back when.

But I ran into two other uses that vary greatly from that view, in my mind.

The first is with regard to symbolic devices on uniforms. They are mentioned in the last definition listed in Merriam Webster: "3: an emblematic design used especially as a heraldic bearing." Get a bronze star with a V for valor? That gold V is a device. Even though it's simply gold thread sewn into a ribbon, it's a device.

Then I started work as a cop, and found that *I* was a device, when I wrote a citation for TRC §544.004, (Compliance With Traffic Control Device), the device most often disregarded was me. Whenever I directed traffic and pointed one way and traffic went another way, that was my cite.

Felt funny, being a "device." Then I thought about it: I had always known that a tidy uniform was important to convey professionalism and any possible sense of authority to the public that I was serving. Indeed, a well-pressed uniform and polished boots did as much for my job's credibility as all the training and professionalism that I could utilize. Once I got that through my head, it was a whole lot easier to think of myself as a "device." Go back to "emblematic design used especially as a heraldic bearing." I may not be that, but many times I'm surely a symbol, when in uniform, more than I am perceived as a man. This symbolic status allows me to serve better, I think. I've known for a long time that lots of folks can't see beyond it and thus can't perceive me as a person beyond the empty shell of my office, to my detriment.

But there can be some favorable outcomes of this; most people, when coming to an intersection with a recognizable cop in it with his hand held up, palm out toward them, will stop without questioning who the hell he thinks he is to tell them to do that. Thus, traffic can get redirected, accidents get avoided or cleared, and people again move smoothly about their daily lives.

I'm tempted to launch into further riffing on the social mandate for government authority, but I just bored myself a little, and I even bore me, then you've got to be snoozin'. 'Sides. Plato and Hobbes said it first and better, anyway.

Want a giggle? This weekend I found a 5 page paper that I submitted to my Philosophy 301 class, my first semester of my freshman year at U.T. at Austin. The title: "Life Sucks And Then You Die." I got an A on the paper, and the course, and changed my major to Philosophy. It would have been so much better for me if Dr. Papas had just flunked me. :)

Revisiting Miami, 1986.

In my reading today, I had occasion to look again at the Miami shootout of such notoriety. And I came to a couple of conclusions:

After the famous 1986 Miami FBI shootout, there was a lot of fallout. Contrary to the opinions of many who know little about the event, the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation did NOT sweep the issue under the rug. In fact, they made a major investigation of the incident, piecing together who among the 9 participants in the firefight had fired which of the 129 rounds in that shootout. You can read about it here, or here, if you'd like. I don't have personal knowledge of any facts that would conflict with the FBI findings, or the facts presented above.
What we do know is that the aftermath was controversial. How, wondered many, could two crooks beat a whole squad of FBI men?

Well, first off, they didn't. Both bad guys died, right there on the scene. Unfortunately this occurred not before they killed two and seriously wounded two other FBI agents trying to arrest them. In fact, only one agent managed to avoid injuries.

But that's not good enough.

Well, no, it wasn't. Platt and Matix, the bad guys, almost managed to get away from the shootout scene, with an agent's car.

What were the major problems hindering the FBI? Was it that their guns were insufficient?
Well, no.
Or yes.
Yes and no.

One of the major rules in gunfighting is to have them, if at all possible, using a long gun. Both Platt and Matix adhered to this rule, and the FBI failed pretty badly in this regard. Platt fired 42 rounds of .223 out of his Mini-14 rifle at the agents, and scored lots of hits for effect. No concealable body armor would have stopped those rounds, and only two agents were wearing body armor. Platt was varsity. He had practiced a lot with his Mini-14, and knew how to use it. He had military training, and when the agents ducked behind cover, he advanced on them shooting. Matix fired a 12 gauge shotgun at the agents, getting off only one round. He was shot early on, by one of the agents (McNeil), and that fact likely saved lives. The first order in operations when faced with two such hostile armed men up close is to take out the shotgunner.

Yet the rounds that stopped both men were .38 Special +P lead semi-wadcutter hollow points. These were fired by one of the gutsiest lawmen ever to clank when he walked, Edmundo Mireles.

Mireles deserves special mention. After he was wounded in his left arm, he used his one good arm to cycle and fire his Bureau 12 gauge shotgun 5 times at the two men as they struggled to drive an FBI sedan away. He then advanced on them from the front, killing both men by firing through the windshield with his S&W revolver.

Fiat that the stop was going to happen when and where it did, with that number of agents. What should we have done to equip them differently? Well, shotguns all around would have been nice. Rifles would have been nice. (Notice: LONG guns.) These both would have improved the good guys' hit ratio, but just as importantly would have improved the likelihood of stopping the bad guys with their hits. Matix was hit three times before Mireless made his heroic charge, and Platt was struck at least 9 times before that charge.

How else could we have equipped them better? The FBI decided that the day had dawned when agents should be issued auto pistols of bigger and better calibers. They went through a bizarre process of obtaining 10mm S&W auto guns, then requesting a lighter loading, then ditching the whole 10mm concept altogether and getting .40s, a round that arguably could trace its lineage to the lesser 10mm loadings, which arguably stemmed from reactions to this shootout.

I submit that, while a good auto pistol of a caliber starting with a "four" is a decent start, they would have done better in getting every Bureau car outfitted with a quality auto shotgun.
I have NEVER heard anyone make this argument, and it surprises me. Listen to The Gun Zone's description of the only use of a shotgun by any agent in that gunfight:

"As Platt entered the FBI's Buick and his partner appeared out of nowhere to slip into the passenger's seat, Mireles carefully supported his Remington 870 on the right rear bumper of McNeill's Olds, and fired a round of 00 Buck at Platt, hitting him in the feet. As the man slumped into the driver's seat and sought to restart the car, Ed deliberately pulled the 12 gauge shotgun down between his thighs in his sitting position and with only one hand, worked the action to rearm his weapon, then painfully rolled out and somehow managed to fire at Platt. Four times Mireles did this."

I submit that a shorty Remington 1100 with an extended magazine and 6 shots of anybody's brand of buckshot in each car could have ended that fight fast. I would certainly submit that Mireless sure would have appreciated one that day.

Oh, other lessons? Have backup guns. Have reloads. Only center hits count. And never, ever, ever give up.