Not my usual fair

As a general rule of thumb I like to center my musical tastes around all things metal with a healthy smattering of blues and Southern Rock for balance. Because of my rule, I rarely deviate from this game plan as I find a sense of well being, and a much needed boost of manhood, through divulging in heavy head banging riffs and deep soulful tones. Recently I was forced from my beloved pathway when subjected, by my wife, to a Cockney English singer much too pop for my distinguished tastes.

I have often found my lovely wife partakes of music genres better suited to a teenage crowd. This is evidenced by her recent attendance at a Brittany Spears concert where she later reported enjoying the experience but not to same extent as the other crowd participants. With drastically different motives, I would have gone solely to engage in the sport of observing anecdotal reactions to Miss Brittany's performance, and the subsequent train wreck. I can't stand pop music and will usually stretch to great lengths to avoid subjection and exposure. But, in order to spend quality time with my darling wife I often eat sufficient crow in order to avoid offending the good nature of my mate. Simply put, she puts up with my shit so I feel it's not too much to ask that I tolerate her taste in music. I do it out of love and devotion.

On one particular day, last month, my darling was unusually excited about a recent Itunes download of a strikingly pretty young woman. The purchased album was titled "It's not me, it's you" which alone suggests the same overindulgence, self-righteous, and pious approach pop and rap artists consistently portray. I was intrigued. But, in order to be true to my inner rocker, I found my self resisting the almost sickening sweet melodies reminiscent of Karen Carpenter pinning her 70's love ballads. "Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near, just like me, they long to be, close to you" Waaaaaaaaaaaaa, ahhhhhhhhhaaaahhhhhhhaaaaaaaaa, close to yoooooou". Then it struck me. Lily Allen sang joyful, and all to softly, "F%&$ you, f%&$ you very very much, we hate what you do, and we hate your whole crew, so please don't stay in touch" (edited to save the eyes of innocent readers). That was the chorus to a song disparaging closed minded thinking. The tune proved grossly upbeat but the lyrical content was refreshingly sarcastic and poignant. It was brilliant.

The last time I felt this kind of media excitement was the night my wife tricked me into watching "The Decent". The first 45 minuets (or longer) of the movie was nothing short of a chick flick. My wife lied. She said it was a horror film. I was pissed. Then all of a sudden (and literally out of nowhere) one of the head strong, liberated women, who portrayed a honed ability to satisfactorily live life fully with or without a man, was attacked and subsequently eaten by a blind cream colored humanoid barring echolocation abilities. Brilliant. Under the guise of a chick-flick the director removed barriers usually set when attending the average horror movie. Unaware, I was tricked into thinking the movie was a feel good, women's lib, rallying of the species. Then BAMB, like fickle fate everyone dies by the hands (mainly teeth) of a several grotesquely wicked creatures instinctively killing anything that moves. Awesome, now one of my all time favorite films.

Much like watching "The Decent" changed my mind about the movie, after listening to Lily's Allen's entire album I was smitten. Entranced if you will, by here charmingly good looks, innocent melodies, and crushing lyrics. Hey, my wife thinks the sun rises and sets around Johnny Depp, I think I can afford a wee little crush on Lily. Ok mabey a large crush. Check out the album, she sings about the inability of her seemingly perfect romantic interest to satisfy her womanly needs, the addicted reality of societal dependance on prescriptions, and trying to dump a a guy who just doesn't get it. She's sarcastic, she's cheeky, and she's hot as hell. Thanks hun, you've opened my all to often closed eyes.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Frustration!!!

Sometimes the stars are not aligned. Sometimes the cards are stacked against you. Sometimes life kicks you in the balls when your down. Overall much of what we desire remain a desire. In the end were left to the mercy of others. Please be kind.

"Come on baby finish what you started, I'm incomplete. That ain't no way to treat the broken hearted, come on a finish me!!!"

I love Working Graves!!!

I found myself wandering aimlessly, one early morning, in the recesses of Lindon trying tirelessly to shake off drowsiness. Lindon really is a sleepy little town who mockingly rolls her self up like clockwork every night at midnight. Subsequently one must hunt diligently for adequate arrests to keep one busy for the remainder of the night. On this occasion, being as an usually dull day, I found myself short on sleep. I decided to park near the North County Animal Shelter in order to avoid a seemingly evident head on collision with some random stationary object. While fighting off stages of drooling, and in a semi-conscious state, I was suddenly roused by a loud engine, pipes, and squealing tires. Being an astute officer, and always able to see the core issue at hand, I quickly focused my attention on a spinning black Porsche admitting a cloud of gray-black smoke from its tires. It seems the dark desolate intersection was too much temptation for the driver of the vehicle who succumbed to to that little voice present in recessed mind of all men. "Go ahead, no one is watching."

I jumped to attention, carefully wiping away drool and sleep, and hit my lights speeding after the Porsche. To be honest I fully expected the vehicle to flee, Porsche Carrera vs. Ford Explorer, especially after seeing the vehicle had no rear plate. Much to my surprise the Porsche pulled to side of the road and stopped. I walked to the the drivers side of the car speaking to a "30-something" plain looking gentleman with wispy feathered hair parted at the center. He appeared to be deep in the indicative mid-life crisis of lost youth as his button up shirt, open to reveal a forest of hair and a lack of muscle, lay unflattering about his upper body. A semi-attractive younger woman, looking annoyed by this delay, said nothing staring into space. The couple was truly mismatched. He, spending more money than he should in attempts to attract a companion out of his league, and she, being content with delusions of perceived beauty based on an her ability to catch a ride in an expensive vehicle. If a shallow personality makes a pair I guess they were perfectly matched. Judgments are so prevalent during a first time meeting and run the base for future encounters. And before you judge me for being judgmental you too were judging me judging others. "Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive."

I set the stage by simply stating, It's times like this I cannot stifle my sarcasm, "If I paid as much as you for this car, there is no way in hell I would treat her like this." The driver said nothing, looking sheepishly in every direction but mine. I usually have the ability to read a person within the first few seconds of contact. I found myself struggling to ascertain whether his attitude was smug or embarrassment. A little explanation, I attempt to enforce the law focusing on a persons willingness to change. The core of criminal charges stem from enticing, or enacting, change in the behavior of the recipient. Criminal charges have a tendency to cause grief and frustration and I attempt to change behavior with the least amount of enforcement necessary. Some crimes remove all discretion and must be charged in order to satisfy justice. We are not discussing justice today only societal expectations. In short a warning can carry more weight, in some situations, than a citation. Let us all now scream in unison of the unfairness of cops, the lack of due-process, and the audacity of officer discretion. Using discretion oft times leads to complaints of badge heaviness or acting out of spiteful contempt. I am aware of this reaction but still attempt to cut as many brakes as possible. Just because I can, does not mean I should. In short a persons attitude suggests a willingness to change. A person who portrays themselves as genuine, believe me I can tell, is more likely to get off a charge. Screaming and crying, should there be any surprise, almost ensures action. With this in my mind, I gathered information and left the couple to their thoughts.

I later found the driver was involved in a very similar situation where he spun a donut in a neighborhood. He was found, charged, and his vehicle towed. Obviously he did not learn from the experience as within a few short months he was involved in the same behavior. OK, out of fairness he did Wait until 3:00 in the morning and chose an area that was unpopulated at the time. Did he learn or did he simply evolve. So here's how the story ends. I completed a citation for Exhibition of Speed. I felt two incidents within two months was excessive. Exhibition carries and mandatory suspension of a license where Reckless Driving simply places points on a license. If he cant learn he needs to loose his license. I wrestled with the notion of impounding his car, but as we have already discussed I am Leary of appearing to make judgments based on contempt. Again, I do not wish to over enforce an issue. I decided I would speak with the gentleman and allow his attitude to sway the impound decision. Essentially I would leave it up to him. In the end he was truly embarrassed to have been caught doing what he was already charged in the presence of his date. I did not impound his vehicle. If justice was a factor, it would have been served with a citation only. I did inform the driver, in an effort to deter future behavior, that I'm always in this area because of continued problems with reckless driving. The reckless problems are true, the reason I was in the area was stretched. I was there because I was tired. Nothing more. The irony is, he was in the wrong place and that wrong time. I love working graves.

Dont Chew!!!

Little Miss Sadie had two cavities filled a few weeks ago and as a result of the procedure she found her cheek and lip were completely numb. Sadie performed marvelously for the Dentist and was awarded with stickers for her bravery. Sadie and I walked from the Dentist to Maceys (her older sister was still in the chair) to buy ice cream and root beer for a later job well done treat. Once home, Sadie merrily marched off to watch SpongeBob with her only aggravation stemming from an unconstitutional decision not to have root beer floats before dinner. A short time later Sadie and I entered the kitchen from opposite sides. Like Clint Eastwood in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, dueling music rang in the background as we faced for battle. Being an astute parent I immediately noticed what appeared to be ketchup all over her face, hands, and shirt. I quickly decided on a proper chastisement when my rational brain screamed the reality of the situation. It seemed Sadie could not feel her lip and so she began to chew in order to pass the time while watching cartoons. When she was done she had chewed a gouge approximately an inch long and a ¼ inch deep. The top portion of her lip was missing to reveal the muscle underneath. My instincts kicked in, honed by years of handling such tragedies, and I frantically tried to hide this reality from Steph. I failed. Mom saw what happened and reacted as any self respecting mother would. Her jaw dropped and she burst into tears. Steph quickly raised her hands to her mouth in an effort to hide her shocked reaction. Tender hearted Sadie simply apologized for a situation she surmised was her fault. I quickly wiped the blood from Sadie’s face and hands and asked her to hold a cloth to her lip. I was trying to give mom some time to gather her composure. I removed the cloth hoping to find my memory had exaggerated the injury. I was wrong. Mom lost it again. I took command and announced I would save my darling wife further trauma and whisk Sadie away for professional help by myself. I was wrong again. Mom sternly advised me of my error in thinking and announced she would be going. After a somber car ride to the InstaCare Sadie was quickly surrounded by secretaries, nurses, and physicians. Apparently the magnitude of the wound was not as common as I was trying to make myself believe. The attending physician consulted a plastic surgeon. We were given a choice do nothing and hope for the best or attempt to stitch the wound edges closer. We were told that facial injuries, especially the mouth, heal quickly and less is usually more. The standing opinion suggested closing the wound with too many stitches would likely cause abnormal healing. Because young Sadie had exposed a potion of the facial muscle we opted for a few internal stitches. Sadie was still numb so the job was completed quickly without a local. Sadie took the stitches like a Marine in triage. Mom was trying to keep herself together. The nurses focused most concern for Steph as they kept asking how she felt and if she was going to make it. In an effort to relive internal maternal stress I asked the nurse to bandage the wound. I was politely told modern day science has not developed a Band-Aid that will stick to the interior of the mouth. Used to getting my way in times of stress and tragedy, I responded with “Surely you can slap some tape on that sucker”. I was wrong again. Time progressed and Sadie had ice-cream for dinner that night. The next morning Sadie woke with her lip swollen. She had ice-cream for breakfast. The tremendous crevasse was gone. We kept it moist with balms and Chap Stick and within two week her lip had healed almost perfectly. As a result of this I am reminded of several truths. The human body is both fragile and resilient, a mother feels pain along with her child, I dont always get what I want, and in the eyes of my darling wife I am wrong more than I am right.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Get Stoned!!! It Makes my Job Easier!!!

After years of consideration and looming decent over the nature of illicit substances and struggling to understand the need to "party" or "get high", I have come to a stark conclusion. Why not legalize party drugs?

It did not take long after starting actual police work to realize my love for all things illicit. I recall attending a drugs and crime class during my academy days and holding for the first time illegal drugs of all types and varieties. Instructors burned a substance that mimicked the odor of marijuana and we were allowed to fondle, but not ingest, each substance to our hearts content. I was fascinated with each category and vowed to learn all I could, short of experimentation. I believe this fascination surfaced from ignorance due to complete abstinence of all drugs, including alcohol and tobacco, as a kid. To this day I can proudly boast that I have never consumed an illegal substance or misused or abused a legal substance. Guess the jury is out. I'm lame.

Despite a fascination for natural and manmade party drugs I never had a desire to use. I was protected as an adolescent from the effects of said substances and had no basis of comparison for struggles related to use. Within months of beginning patrol work I searched for opportunities to learn about commonly used street drugs and their effects. I dealt, on a day to day basis, with the outcomes of misuse and addiction. I quickly found a large majority of property crimes and most of domestic issues were related to drugs and alcohol. I quickly learned that people often act very differently, often criminally, when blitzed, buzzed, spun, drunk, stoned, or simply high.

For example, Dry Canyon is a popular place because the landscape is quite beautiful and the terrain provides sport for man and beast alike. The park is easily accessible by vehicle, bike, and horse. It also happens to be within the city limits of where I patrol. One fine fall evening, when the air was still warm, I drove to the top parking lot of the canyon looking for curfew violations. The park is commonly frequented by youngsters looking for a romantic place to “relate” or to consume mind altering substances. Many times all will occur simultaneously. As I rounded the bend into the parking lot I noticed a small blue passenger car with exhaust emanating from the rear. I saw the rear brake lights illuminate and the car began to shake and shimmy. It appears the couple inside were aware of my presence. I gave the couple ample time to clothe to avoid the burning of specific activities into my memory. As I approached the car I found an attractive young woman sitting in the front driver’s seat wearing only a halter type top. The top was clearly haphazardly donned as her chest was still mostly exposed. I also saw she sat somewhat shyly as she tried to conceal her utter lack of dress from the waist down. Her male companion, older, sat fully clothed next to her looking infinitely more white trash than she. The vehicle was running with soft music playing in the background. I immediately noticed the young lady was drunk as was her male companion. A subsequent test proved my suspicions. Both agreed they were friends, they had been talking about bad relationships, and that after sharing a bottle one thing led to another and there they were. After allowing her privacy to finish dressing I discuss with her that nature of "actual physical control" of a motor vehicle and how she was in violation of Utah's DUI laws. I decided since her obvious intent was to not drive the vehicle she would be charge with Consumption of Alcohol by a Minor. I was being generous. Her male companion was charged with Providing Alcohol to a Minor.

Days later I was chewing the preverbal fat with Officers from a neighboring city when to my surprise the young lady, fully dressed this time, walked into the convenience store. She was wearing large dark glasses and looked angry to be awake. Because of past conversations with her I knew she liked to party and probably partook of vast quantities of alcohol the night before. That and her sunglasses shouted hang over. As she entered her vehicle and left the parking lot, I naturally followed. She drove as bad as she looked. After a short investigation she was subsequently arrested for a Not a Drop DUI Violation. During both investigations I suggested she had a problem. More specifically I suggested she was addicted to alcohol. Her response was naively simple. "I can't be an alcoholic because I have a child". Hmmm, I thought. She’s right. I quickly realized the error of my ways. I addition I know knew society has been wasting time and money on child protective services. We should have trusted that parents using drugs and alcohol were not addicts because they were parents. We're so stupid.

By way of comparison, I recall an event where I was assisting officers with a large house party. We found at least 500 kids in a 4000 square foot home. As we stood outside a brave young man brought attention to himself by loudly screaming "f*%k" the police. He flamboyantly flipped us the double bird then jumped down a window well with a satisfied wry smile on his face. His satisfaction soon turned to horror. It seems he was originally in the basement of the home and that his alcohol soaked brain devised how fun it would be to antagonize the cops. Beside what could we do? After exerting his opinion he found his friends cut off his escape by closing the window from whence he originally came. It seems his friends tired of his belligerence and were glad to be rid of him. One can only imagine. As you guessed all us “f”ing cops had nothing better to do so we rushed the stunned drunk. He fought briefly but lost. How does the song go, I fought the law and the law won. The rub surfaced when all his friends exited the home laughing at his plight. Let me summarize my point.

I often marvel how utterly incapable a person becomes when intoxicated. I think it was Homer who pronounced "Alcohol, the cause of and solution to all of life’s problems". Drugs cause a lot of problems but the problems often become easier to prosecute because of impaired thinking. Darwin theorized that natural selection strengthens the species. Survival of the fittest. Often after years of abuse a person often stops thinking altogether and simply acts. Maybe allowing people to party as much as they want will thin the herd. So, by all means, smoke or drink yourself stupid. It makes my job easier.

Dad always said he found me under a rock, guess thats where Sammy came from

Who do you think you are?

So I in vision Chris Farley on Saturday Night Live as he lists in quotations all his perceived personal struggles. As told by his peers, Farley sates such issues as “not wearing clothes that fit me” and “never having sex with a woman”. Apparently he “does not know how that works”. Like Farley (may you rest in peace the world is not as bright without you) I believe it is prudent to look at one’s self from time to time to discover ones true self. I’ve had recent occasions to “soul search” and this short list comprises a few perceived personal struggles.

It turns out I’m high strung (who knew I just made this realization this century), I aggravate easily (thank the good lord for Zoloft), I’m opinionated and I expect others to value my insight (all you have to do is listen I don’t care if you agree), I’m passionate (it gets me into trouble), I’m a perfectionist who holds high expectations for myself and others (please define perfection I have no idea what my basis of comparison is), I swear (expletives deleted) I’m OCD or ADHD or a combination of both, I was drawn to law enforcement to offset mental conditioning derived from years of constant bullying (I’m compiling a list all you rotten bastards, better start apologizing), I jump to assist at the drop of a hat to the detriment of health and family (self worth comes from pleasing others right), my son acts just like me (Dad you were right he was scraped off the same rock you found me under), who I am evolves daily (sorry babe I try), I aspire to be white trash (Is it bad to idolize Kid Rock and Michael Anthony), I think of myself and immediately berate my selfish desires, I have isolated a little part of me (a complete opposite of how I was raised) struggling to manifest as dominant.

In a nutshell, perceived personality flaws prove to be a monumental pain in the ass as I attempt to suppress learned tendencies and subconscious behavior pathways. I have aspirations of decency and personal balance. I guess I’m complicated, at times a complete asshole, but always light hearted. Life is funny and worth living. I enjoy laughing. I’m more comfortable now in my own skin than I’ve ever been. All I ask. Get to know “me”, I’m really not as big a jerk as I first manifest.