Better And Better

If you don't draw yours, I won't draw mine. A police officer, working in the small town that he lives in, focusing on family and shooting and coffee, and occasionally putting some people in jail.

Sunday, December 31, 2006

Two Pursuits in Two Days.

Both from vehicle thefts.

First one: Bad Guys steal a car in a neighboring county while also up to other forms of no good (burglary has been mentioned.). OnStar is activated, and locates the vehicle moving about within my city. I am directed toward that vehicle. As I attempt to overtake it on a Farm To Market road, I am getting updates on the car's location. It's widening the gap, but the roads are slick, and he's driving it like he stole it. Because, of course, he has.

I, in a rare fit of responsibility, give up some tactical advantage, and run all lights and sirens before I even see it, and drive slowly enough on the rainslick roads to maintain control. Eventually, as he doubles back, we see each other, and I command him (with a voice like an angry Moses) to "STOP!" A mighty hand gesture is involved. The driver looks pie-eyed, hesitates a milisecond, and stomps on the accelerator. By the time I'm turned around, he's gone, and another cop is soon also given the slip.

But OnStar keeps vectoring us in, and the driver and his buddy off-road for a bit before ditching the car and "going to ground"-- they run like striped-arse apes. Through muddy, muddy fields and pastures.

Coupla city agencies, two county agencies, and two state agencies, I believe, get involved in the manhunt. Of the 20 some-odd cops, no one of them has a bloodhound. Pity. It grows dark and rainy.

At this point, the excitement and fun are over, and it's time to do some rather distasteful stuff called "work." We set about to searching barns and ravines, and notifying the ranchers, farmers, and country-living folks that fugitives are at large, and ask the good citizens to call 911 if they see the guys. Some folks I speak to even decide to pull the keys from the ignitions of their pickups.

Finally, three and a half hours later, a call comes in-- a ranch hand has called his boss that a muddy guy has appeared on his porch, asking to use a phone. The rancher calls us, and declares that if he gets there first, the fellow won't be leaving. I start en route. Somehow, it's storming even harder than before. While I'm en route, another rado call goes out-- seems the other bad guy has shown up on the porch of a residence, and the caller is (ahem) hysterical. Her husband has him at gunpoint. I think about the situation, and decide to continue on to the first guy, who is not yet declared to be secured. I arrive to find that he is enjoying his second cigarette and belching from the beer he's just slammed ("He said I might as well enjoy the last one for awhile"), and I arrest him without any fuss. He's tickled to get into a nice warm dry patrol car.

at the same moment, the other guy is being arrested by my off-duty lieutenant, who has heard the radio call and comes to ease the tension. The events at that location: after the suspect tries to enter the residence through a side door, the man of the house presents his favorite over-and-under 12 gauge, loaded with high-brass #4s. When the suspect does not immediately sit down and await police, the man of the house demonstrates the rather impressive hole that such a load from such a gun can make in, say, the patch of yard 2 feet to the right of the suspect. The suspect, properly impressed, does his best impression of a ballpark tarp, and proceeds to protect as much turf as he possibly can from the downpour, using his own body stretched out as much as he can.

Second one:
A guy is observed driving a stolen truck. It's not a new truck-- it's a very distinctive piece-of-crap OLD truck. For whatever reason, he's decided that it's worth a felony to drive it around. But he's got a plan.
I am dispatched to stop this truck. I find that said truck is flying through my city with the caller behind. Before I can arrive, another unit arrives to get in behind, and a medium-high-speed chase goes on down some very low-speed roads. The pickup leaves the road into a plowed field. (Remember the rain from yesterday?) The pursuing officer declines to follow, and watches as the pickup makes it 500 yards in the field before getting stuck. Remember how the car thief's got a plan? He pulls a dirtbike out of the bed of the pickup to effect his getaway along the nearby railroad tracks. He fires up the motorcy...
...oh, the chain slipped off the sprocket.

Here's where it gets weird.

He then PUSHES the motorcycle through the field to the nearby ravine, and is attempting to get it across a fence when a helpful law enforcement officer assures him that he won't need to struggle so, all alone. I assist in helping the new prisoner up and down a rather steep railroad embankment, but that's about the extent of my help.

With a nice venue to escape, WHY did he push the motorcycle to the fence? The motorcycle, by the way, was stolen, too.

Note the complete absence of reference to the names of agencies, officers, suspects, or jurisdictions. Note that I've not given a date. Note that I'm just an anonymous guy tellin' stories, here. Let's just keep it that way. :)

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Our litigious society.

Woman sues because her guacamole isn't "avocadoey" enough.

I really can't put my response any better than Gullyborg.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

The fowlable [sic] media

The NPR weekend news show On The Media broadcast an interview with Craig Silverman. Silverman has a pretty interesting blog up called Regret The Error, in which he details news media corrections.

For example, he links to the HIGHLY amusing Reuters online feedback page, The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly, which includes such gems as:
Globalstar Announces Pricing Of Its Initial Pubic Offering

This is a bad spelling mistake. Can you please take the steps needed to correct this immediately?


Ouch. Yes: Editor

and valid questions about such headlines as: "Gunmen shoot dead Hamas judge at Gaza courthouse."

By far, though, the best part of the site is the The Year in Media Errors and Corrections 2006 . It includes some of the most profound understated apologies, like:
It has come to the editor's attention that the Herald-Leader neglected to cover the civil rights movement. We regret the omission.

While no one realy takes the Sun seriously:
Following our article on Princess Eugenie’s birthday celebrations, we have been asked to point out the party was closely monitored by adults throughout and while a small amount of mess was cleared away at the end of the evening, there was no damage to furniture, no revellers dived into bedrooms in search of drunken romps and to describe the house as being trashed was incorrect. We are happy to make this clear and regret any distress our report caused.

...we would expect better from, say, The Chicago Tribune:
An editorial in Friday’s paper incorrectly stated that Florida Cresswell, a candidate for state representative in the 28th District, was convicted in 1999 of battery and stealing Tupperware. In fact he was convicted of stealing a battery from a van as well as Tupperware that was inside the van.

...or The New York Times:
A film review on Wednesday about “Little Miss Sunshine” referred incorrectly to contestants in the fictional children’s beauty pageant of the title. The critic intended to compare the contestants to underage prostitutes, not to “underage fleshpots."

Then there's the 2006 Plagiarism Round-Up .

My mother was a writer for a major newspaper for years, and was in fact a trained journalist, with a degree from SMU in journalism. She instilled in me a distaste for yellow journalism, muckraking, and bad writing. Retired today, my mother cringes even now at horrible headlines and at poor fact-checking. I wrote a rant on my disgust on plagerism once, but decided that I was being too blatantly personal and self-biographical in it. (Short story: fellow in my group in a Graduate School class cribbed all of his contribution to a group paper from online sources, thereby jeopardizing the grades of 5 other group members.)

Of plagerism in journalism, I will say only this: when a person who makes a living of telling the truth and producing original insights copies the work of another without attribution, he is of no further worth in that field.

Now, check out where lots of people are getting their news: BLOGS. More and more, we're getting our backstories from the electronic medium.

So who are we reading? Click below to read it.

As mentioned by LawDog and his commentators, this is an age in which all you need to publish an opinion is a terminal, an ISP, and link to a blog service. For professional journalists to be recognized as such, I believe the bar has been raised. Jimmy-Bob Schuckatelli has his own comments and viewpoints on issue X. It's time for those who are paid to write such comments to do a better job.



As in: How much is your blog worth?

With a tip o' the hat to Memphis Steve, whose blog seems to be worth $36k. Damn him.

My buddy LawDog's blog is apparently worth Zero dollars, as well, which makes me feel better, as it makes clear that this assessment is utter crap.

My friend Tamara's blog is supposedly worth:

Tamara's blog is worth $5,080.86.
How much is your blog worth?

. Well la-tee-da! Look who's in retail!!


Thursday, December 21, 2006

Holiday Spirits.

Matt G's Kentucky Sour

Start with a tall glass. Highballs are great, but I have pint beer glasses around the house, so that's what I use.

Start by filling the glass 1/4 full of ice cubes.

Next, pour in:

--The juice of half a lemon. It must be fresh. If you don't have a fresh lemon, move on to other things. (in the bottom of that glass above, note that there's a fresh lemon seed sitting there. Nope, I didn't strain it-- I just squeezed the lemon right into the glass.)

--2 oz of bourbon. For those of you who (like me) are not bartenders, use your 1/4 Cup measuring cup. I use Evan Williams bourbon for the value, but your taste may vary.

--1.5 Tablespoons of marischino cherry juice, and a couple of cherries to boot.

Stir vigorously with your cherry-dippin' spoon.

Top it all off with enough club soda to fill the glass.
Stir the glass a couple more times.

Garnish with an extra cherry over the ice.

WARNING: Do NOT have a second without a guaranteed ride. This is a potent drink, and tastes good to boot.

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Lighter Fare

Blue Cross From Hell

Steve Jones has a blog that he named “Steve’s Nude Memphis Blog”. I followed a link there, and loved it. I couldn’t figure out the name of the blog for the longest time, though. Turns out, he’s not a pervert—he’s a narcissist. He figured he’d get more hits from Google searches if he included the word “Nude” in the masthead of every page of his blog. It actually seems to have worked. He gets more hits than I do, by a factor of about 1000X.

He visits her a fair amount, and even comments, but the dirty bastich won't link me, damn him. :)

Anyway. This blog made me laugh out loud, which is something I don’t do every day.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Back In The Saddle

It's enjoyable at my new job.

My best cases, I can't now write about. (Ongoing case issues.)

My most pleasureable moments aren't much to write about, really.

Mostly, I've been riding around in my patrol car, and doing a little small-town policing. I've made a lot of personal contacts with the citizens, and we'll have to see what they think of me.

Some people have gone to jail.

Some people have received court summonses.

A lot of peoople have been issued written and/or verbal warnings.

I've written some reports that I'm actually pretty proud of. One of these has included a felony investigation that I'm planning on an arrest in, any day now.

As I took a guy in today for a foreign warrant arrest (nothing more, because I had suggested to the originating officer that we didn't need to charge the kid for the onsite "weapons" charge that he saw), it occured to me: I'm back in the saddle. Today I made the most citizen contacts, good and bad, that I've made since putting the cop job back on.

And, at the end of the day, drinking coffee with my relief at shift change, I felt a distinct feeling of attachment to the community. I felt loyal. Like I had helped it a little. This may be the best (working) day I've had in a year or two, and I didn't even make an arrest (That trip to jail was to book in another officer's arrestee.).

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Wednesday, December 13, 2006


I'm supposed to be writing an essay for my final at grad school. It's due at 1800 hours, so Lord knows I don't want to get it turned in by, say, 1600 hours today.

So I'm stalling a tad here in the computer lab (where I went for no distractions? Puhlease.), checking the Blogs, and... this.

On the referral page of my egomet... er, SiteMeter was this site. I don't recall ever hearing from THIS blog, before. How'd I get linked?

Throw in random stuff like that (or this), and the whole Six Degrees of Separation seems conservative-- Try about Four Degrees.

[sfx: "It's A Small World After All" welling up in the background]

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Navel Gunfire

As mentioned earlier, I went through ALERRT training today.

I only caught one round, and it was friendly fire.

Friendly fire... isn't.

Simunitions drives a little 9mm hollow plastic bullet, filled with the color paint of your mission out of the barrel of a Glock 17T at about 400 fps.

When they hit you, it hurts.

They did get the bad guy, though.

That's my finger and my belly button, pointing out where a Blue-On-Blue shooting hit me just near the belly button.

My daughter told me when I got home that my wife thought that I was running around playing war games like little boys. I was a little disappointed. What we were actually doing was learning how to kill bad guys, as a quickly-assimilated team.

The instruction was excellent. One of the instructors was Sgt. Rusty Jacks of the Tyler, TX police department. Who's he? Well, I recognized him, and asked him if he had been riding any car trunks lately. He has a very good attitude about killing bad guys-- "Screw 'im. He needed to be stopped, so call it a good day's work. It's deer season, and you could use the two weeks off."

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I have a bit that I go over with every DWI or DUI that I take to jail:

Sure, you were keeping it between the lines. Nope. You weren't weaving. I agree.

Yep, you stopped at the stop sign. You didn't run it.

No, you weren't speeding.

And you didn't run into anything or anyone, and you didn't throw a beer can out the window or half a dozen other clues that say "by golly, that driver is drunk!"

But when I stopped you for the inoperative tail light or busted license plate lamp or for an expired inspection sticker and said howdy, you turned out to be drunk. Not BAD drunk, mind you-- you weren't falling all over as you stepped out. You managed not to fall down while walking heel-to-toe, and you didn't fall down, really, while doing the one-leg stand. And you surely did follow my pen.

But my tests and the totality of the circumstances have given me probable cause to believe that you have consumed enough alcohol or whatever intoxicant so as to rob you of the full use of your mental and/or motor skills. You are technically intoxicated.

But, you say, if you weren't driving bad, what's the difference? That's not what I pulled you over for.

Absolutely. When everything is going right, you're an excellent driver, even while intoxicated. Believe me-- I've met a bunch of 'em. Seriously.

But here's the thing-- what about when things don't go right?

How many times have you slammed on your brakes, and thus saved someone's life? That little old lady who just didn't look well enough before pulling out into traffic-- she probably shouldn't be driving, but does she deserve to DIE for her mistake? Or should a sober person be able to show the quick reaction time and judgement to be able to deal with her clear failure to yield right-of-way?

How many times have we all cussed that silly little 16 year old (boy or girl) who was chatting with his friends and not paying attention, and cut us off? How many times have we all wanted to smack him and tell him what we thought of his reckless driving, after having locked up our brakes and our seatbelts? But do we need to give them their just deserts, and hit them when our reflexes are just that little bit slower? How would you feel explaining that to a father that you're sorry, but you were just a little bit too TECHNICALLY drunk to keep from causing his immature but otherwise sweet daughter to die on the side of the road?

Technically drunk.

Drunk. Let's cut the crap. Drunk is drunk.

And if the emotional plea doesn't get to you (the daddy part does to me, even now), then howza bout this? If you're a drunk driver and are in a wreck for whatever reason, and the investigating officer can find ANY way that a sober person MIGHT have been able to avoid that accident, and someone gets hurt, you've just committed a felony. In Texas, it's called Intoxication Assault. Someone dies, and it's called Intoxication Manslaughter. And if we have the slightest suggestion that someone's going to die, we draw blood.

All because you blew a tire and couldn't control your car as well, perhaps, as a fully sober person. Or whatever.

It's not worth it.

Call a cab. If you're my friend, call ME.

That could be your family out there. That could be your wife driving home the kids from a night of shopping, when something goes wrong. And because you're TECHNICALLY drunk, you can't make it right.

Oh, you don't have a wife and kids? I do.

Now, will you be providing Breath or Blood, sir?

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Saturday, December 09, 2006

Oh, and for what it's worth?

I LIKE my job, and the people that I work with and for.

...Unlike some people, who seem a little bitter, just now. (warning-- it's kinda... um, coarse.)

(But damn, in my sleep-deprived state, it cracked me up. Hehehe. Bitter. Hehehe.)

Gotta run.

Toward the sound of gunfire, and the smell of chalkboard dust.

Yes, I've slowed up, as of late. Sorry about that-- I've got finals this week, and am working doubles this weekend, going through training days and working evenings. It's a little tiring-- I just got up after 4.5 hours' sleep. But it's doing work that I like, and the training promises to be interesting. It's called "ALERRT" training, and is a crash course in how to intelligently and quickly react, as the first responder to an active shooter or a terrorist event.

Interestingly enough, it's being held in the building where I attended elementary school. The old school building has been abandoned this year, as they've moved into a new elementary school in the small town that I grew up in. So I guess it's "decommissioned" as a school,now. But the spaces will still be the same. Think about the verbal and emotional sniping that occured when you were a kid. Think about the dirty looks that the teachers gave you, deservedly or not. Think about the humiliation that every child endures occasionally, hopefully to grow up and out of. Now put yourself back in those same walls, with a team of three others, moving carefully toward the sound of gunfire before someone shoots you with a Simunition. Failure. And it stings. Did you forget your homework?

Monday, December 04, 2006

"Nigger Lover"

(This is going to go a little long, and I apologize for that, but I have to get this off my chest.)

When I was a kid in elementary school in north Texas in the mid-to-late 1970's, a pretty good insult to hurl at the kids on the school yard was to call another kid (we in my little town were all white) a "Nigger Lover." Now, my parents were educated. Both had degrees. Dad was a DA investigator and Mom was a writer for a big paper. Both were SouthWesterners, and had never been infected with racism, and thus had never infected me with it. I don’t believe that I ever used the insult. But I’ll admit that I didn't want to be called the name. Names hurt, no matter what they are.

Back then, I might have said something that one of the more bigoted of my redneck peers would infer as being sympathetic to (i.e., not condemning of) black folk. “You some kind of nigger lover,” would be the immediate challenge. Now, I went to day care in “town” during the summer break with some black kids, and counted one or two among my friends. I knew the truth: race does not make a person better or worse. But mark me for a coward. Being a kid faced with what felt like an immediate challenge to my integrity, I immediately denied it. I’m not much of a Bible scholar, but that story of Peter denying Jesus has a certain ring of truth in it for me. The first thing I did, when accusing eyes demanded that I take come along with the crowd was to snort and say, “No!”

Now I’ve got a daughter of that same age. She goes to school with every race under the sun, and gets along famously with kids based on their personalities rather than their race or ethnicity. I don’t know that she even gets such challenges in the school yard by the thought-bullies. She probably does, but I don’t know what they consist of.

But I’m still subject to the same kind of challenge, and I still find myself denying what may well be a stance that is close to my nature, because of a dirty word. I cringe from the word. I avoid being labeled with it at almost any cost. The dirty word is “LIBERAL.”

Well at least I’m a “Conservative.”

-I’m fiercely pro for Second Amendment.

-I’m for the use of the death penalty.

-I believe that we should support our industries to the extent that we MUST maintain a healthy free market.

-I believe in peace through superior firepower, and believe that we must maintain a powerful military.

-I am against affirmative action.

-I believe that we should have mandatory sterilization imposed upon any woman who gives birth to a baby while on abused drugs.

-I believe that we should strengthen our borders, and cannot comprehend how such a policy could be seen as racist or xenophobic.

-I believe that we need to reduce the benefits given out by the Nanny Government.

-I believe that we should establish the national language as English (the language that all of our nation’s most significant documents are written in), and cannot see how this would infringe upon any person’s rights.

-I hunt, and fight for hunters’ rights.

-I think that, if you feel like you’re in a marginalized segment of society, the last thing that you should be doing is to create bigger barriers to insulate yourself from our society. Try to assimilate just a tad, okay?

-I believe that, while it’s possible to rear children without the use of corporal punishment, parents should have the right to spank (or pinch) their children. I find that it is extremely effective, direct, and morally acceptable.

-I don’t have any problem with the use of genetically modified crops, and find it insane that U.S.-supplied relief food supplies containing GM crops are being discarded as unacceptable to give to starving peoples.

-I believe that we need to do something about the spiraling costs of healthcare.

-I believe that when you put a person in prison for “Life,” we should MEAN it.

But then again…
-I believe in equal rights for everybody. Women. Minorities. Gay folk. Everybody. Give ‘em all the same rights that I start off with as a white guy, if they’re not committing crimes and are paying their own way. Marry how and who you want. I don’t give a flip.

-I believe strongly in the First Amendment. That’s possibly the biggest one. Free Speech. Freedom of religion. Freedom of the press. The right of peaceable assembly. The right to petition for redress of grievances against the government. These are huge rights. I find that many who are against “liberals” are often so based on these very issues. Yeah, those crazy radicals, reinventing the system with their bizarre new ideas.

-I believe that we ought to play by the rules. The Constitution guarantees us rights to counsel and a speedy trial and to freedom from cruel or unusual punishment, and I believe that we ought to follow through on that guarantee. We have Equal Protection and Due Process promised in that document, too. Them’s the rules. So let’s follow them.

-I believe that our current national, state, and local drug policies are completely out of touch with reality. Over half of our prison population (the largest ever) is incarcerated for drug offenses. We are not by any stretch of the imagination winning the “War On Drugs.” We are making mere possession of any usable amount of many drugs a felony, and are putting away people who are addicts without even treating their problem. This is costing you and me a pretty penny, and just guarantees that the guy incarcerated is going to have new problems upon exiting the system. (He’s 70% of the time going to return to that same system within 3 years.) Enforce strong laws about making drugs available to children. Enforce the extent laws regarding public intoxication, DWI, burglary, etc. Let the druggies have their drugs.

-At least decriminalize pot. I’ve never used the stuff (seriously! Not even once!), but I just don’t see that it’s a major problem. Lord knows the potheads fight a lot less than the drunks.

-I think that it’s okay to criticize our government—even in wartime.

-I think that we should not have a draft—if we can’t drum up enough support for a war, perhaps we shouldn’t have the war in the first place.

-I believe that we should make greater efforts to protect our environment.

-I believe that we should make public transportation more useful and accessible.

-I believe that all roads should be built with a bicycle/walking lane, both to encourage alternative forms of transportation and to get them out of the way of vehicles.

-I believe that we need to disallow the standardized use of antibiotics and/or hormones in the feed of market animals, except on an individual basis when they are found to be sick. I strongly believe that our children or their children are going to have to pay for this activity.

-I believe that we’re making too many things felonies. Claire Wolfe and I are of a mind on this issue.

-I think that pretending that young teens aren’t going to have sex is pretty foolish. If we want to address social problems resulting from this behavior (teen pregnancy, STDs), we’re going to have to admit that it occurs, and act accordingly.

-I believe that the most important way that we can improve our nation’s future is to --across the board-- DOUBLE the salaries of teachers. Make teaching a profession worth striving for. (In my area, that would get starting elementary school teachers up to about $70k/year.) Then, raise the bar for standards. If the teachers can’t make the grade, fire their happy butts, or make ‘em “teachers’ aides.” Let’s see the best and brightest in our society start to teach. In the long run, I believe that we’ll realize significant savings from the increased productivity of our nation.

-I think we worry too much about how other people deal with sex. If they’re not hurting anyone, leave ‘em alone and tend to your own knittin’. If they’re making fools of themselves publicly, it’s best to ignore them, as you would a mentally disabled person raising a minor fuss in a public place.

-I believe that we should teach science in schools—not some pseudo science that is simpatico with somebody’s religion.

-I believe that we need to do something about the spiraling costs of healthcare.

-I don’t think that we should dump our citizens’ rights, just because of this “War On Terrorism.”

-I don’t think that “Nuke ‘em ‘til they glow” is a very effective international policy.

So what the heck? Am I a Liberal? Am I a Conservative?

Why do I have to be polarized? What’s with the label?

As a cop and a pro-gun person, I find myself with the Conservative crowd a lot. I identify with them on so many issues. But as a grad student and a person who thinks that recycling the same thoughts is pointless, I listen to the words of self-described Liberals a fair amount. Here in N. Texas, I find that the Liberals fall primarily into two categories—quiet liberals who recognize that they are pretty much in Enemy Territory, or Flaming Liberals. Everybody hates the flaming liberals.

And here in Conservative Land, all liberals are judged on the basis of the Flaming Liberals. But then, in the liberal-friendly areas, all Conservatives are judged on the popularly-perceived personas surrounding Rush Limbaugh, Pat Robertson, or what is perceived to be George W. Bush. We do like to cubbyhole.

Frankly, I reject both extremes. They both sicken me, to some degree. I’m not a peg—please don’t try to drive me into the strangely shaped hole of your choosing.

So it’s beginning to dawn on me: why am I afraid to be called a “Liberal?” Is it because I, like others, am associating that term with the idiots like Diane Feinstein, George Schumer, Ted Kennedy, Sarah Brady, and Cindy Sheehan? Probably so, just as many Liberals tar all “Conservatives” with the brush of David Duke, Pat Robertson, Rush Limbaugh, Strom Thurmond, etc. I’m afraid of being called “liberal” for some of the same immature reasons that I denied being a “nigger lover” as a kid.

-First, it’s technically inaccurate.

-Second, I don’t want to have to explain myself, and have people judge me on the spot.

-Third, I’m a little bit less than courageous. I want my conservative friends. I don’t want them to dismiss me.

And I wonder: how many of you will now dismiss me, because I’m saying this?

Regardless of what radical liberals like Patrick Henry, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, George Washington, Robert Yates, and John Hancock may have been, modern-day strict Constitutionalists seem to have found another amendment to the Bill of Rights: "The right to cast stones at anything and anyone construed to have any liberal tendencies shall not be infringed."

"Nigger Lover? Yeah. Fine. Whatever.

But please, toss in "Redneck Liberal" while you're at it, and I'll feel a bit better.

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Sunday, December 03, 2006

Just to make me feel that. much. smaller.

To see how lame I am, check out how few states I've visited:

create your own personalized map of the USA

But to REALLY feel like a lame-o, check out the map of the countries that I've visited:

create your own visited country map

Frankly, it's even worse than that map represents, because I've not seen Alaska.

I expect LawDog and Marko will be showing me up, soon. Oleg, too, prol'ly.

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