On Friday Dec. 19, 2008;at approximately 10:00am, victim reported that her live-in boyfriend struck her in the right knee/thigh after she refused to give him a cell phone. The altercation stemmed from the suspect buying the wrong type of cream for the victim coffee.

Meanwhile this year, more will be found here in terms of substance and of course, as much Deep Doctrinal Magic discussion as God gives me Grace — and time!

On July 18, 2008 at 1734HRS I responded to a fight in progress [. . .]

Upon my arrival the Accused, Jesus Hernandez was being held down by a bystander in the roadway [. . .] I separated the subjects and through my investigation, it was discovered that Jesus arrived at the apartment around 10 minutes prior to my arrival. Witnesses on the scene stated that Jesus was trying to fight subjects at the residence and ended up hitting one subject, Ismael Quintero several times. It was then stated that Ismael was able to detain Jesus, prior to my arrival. I arrested Jesus for Disorderly Conduct 2nd Degree for engaging in fighting, violent behavior and causing a panic for the people outside in that area.

Un-twue Wuv

Perpetrator became upset with the victim when the victim told the perpetrator he was not ready to get married right now. Perpetrator left the scene and took off walking and fell in a ditch scratching her back up.

I checked, but the report didn’t say if alcohol was a factor. How else, though, would one “take off walking” or just arbitrarily fall in a ditch?

Eye-rolling role reversal

08/23/2007 at 2110 hours this officer was en route to the area of [road] and the [Name of] Parkway to assist Detective [Name]. [. . .] I was in the passing lane and passed several vehicles. I passed a red SUV traveling eastbound as well. As I passed the SUV be began to flash lights at me. I kept going for a short distance and he kept flashing his lights at me. I then slowed down as he continued to flash them.

I then slowed down and pulled beside him. I rolled down my window and yelled to him “are you okay?” He then began to yell out his window something to the effect of “slow down!!” He was also shaking his fist and cursing at me.

I then made the decision to slow down and get behind him and pull him over. I made a determination that the subject must be under the influence or was possibly mentally ill.

[. . . After the chase, in which the SUV driver fled or evaded police by car . . .]

Myself along with the two Airport officers boxed in the offender and forced him onto the shoulder. He stopped his vehicle and I exited my patrol car. An Airport officer and myself ordered the offender out of the car at gunpoint. He reluctantly exited the vehicle and after some commands he layed [sic] down on the ground. He was yelling at the Airport officer to arrest me.

To me, anyway, it is among the height of stupidities and arrogances to act as though you've caught someone in an authority position doing something wrong when nothing of the sort has occurred. It's almost more obnoxious than spam emails, whose writers — either humanoid or software — actually seem to think that anyone cares anything about the message's insipid contents.

Yes, alcohol was a factor in the weird driver's behavior, of course. Yet he also apparently said later that he had a “general distaste” for police officers altogether.

07/29/2007 @ 1750 the victim came into the Police Department. She was very manic and talking very rapidly. At one point during the conversation she told me that she had been raped years ago. However, she said at the time of the rape she was actually Ronald Reagan. She further stated that Lyndon B. Johnson was driving the car she was being raped in.

I then called Comprehensive Care [. . .]

[The suspect, at the detention center,] then sat down to take off his boots. He then began to refuse to take off his socks. I, along with jail staff, ordered him to do so many times. I then removed my Taser again as he was beginning to get unruly and combative. We then ordered him several more times to remove his socks. He then said something to the effect of “[Naughty word] it, I think I can take you!!” He then stood and lunged toward me with balled fists. He placed me in fear of imminent injury. I then deployed my Taser on him and ordered him to comply. He fell to the ground and then began to cooperate somewhat.

Subject began coming at me with a black leather-type belt in a fight-Ready stance. I commanded him to stop and put his hands up. He continued at me, so, I feared physical Harm was possible. I pepper sprayed him. He was strongly smelling of Alcoholic Beverages (and pepper spray).

Now I submit two more of the same styles of local-police anecdotes, though the time, department size, and community newspaper venue has certainly changed. I have only truncated them here and there to edit out either subjects' names (though they are public record) and occasionally Bad Words.

Note, in particular, the last line of the second excerpt here: surely the word “advise” and its various conjugations are used way too frequently in police work. And again, all typos are in the original reports.

After arriving in the area II observed a black S-10 operated by a white male pulling into a parking space at the above location. I approached the vehicle and found [name of suspect] behind the wheel of the vehicle throwing –up on him self. I asked [name of suspect] why he was sick? And his response was he had to much to drink. When asked what he had been drinking? he stated he had been drinking Smirnoff vodka and he couldn’t believe his wife had let him leave the house in his condition. He said he was glad we got him before he when into work in the condition he was in. I stood by while [he] continued to throw-up and when he was finished I asked him to step out of the vehicle and he was unsure if he could stand up because everything was spinning.

Upon arrival at the detention center, subject became extremely belligerent with the deputies. He repeatedly told them to [blah blah blah], called them [et ceteras] and advised them to watch their backs.

Recommended Pirates of the Caribbean - The Curse of the Black Pearl (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)

John Baur and Mark Summers [. . .] have come up with a concept that is going to make you kick yourself for not thinking of it first: Talk Like a Pirate Day. As the name suggests, this is a day on which everybody would talk like a pirate. Is that a great idea, or what? There are so many practical benefits that I can't even begin to list them all.

Baur and Summers came up with this idea a few years ago. They were playing racquetball, and, as so often happens, they began talking like pirates. And then it struck them: Why not have a day when EVERYBODY talks like a pirate? They decided that the logical day would be Sept. 19, because that — as you are no doubt aware — is Summers' ex-wife's birthday.

Since then, Baur and Summers have made a near-superhuman effort to promote Talk Like a Pirate Day. As Baur puts it: "We've talked like pirates, and encouraged our several friends to, every Sept. 19, except for a couple where we forgot.''

And yet, incredibly, despite this well-orchestrated campaign, the nation has turned a deaf shoulder to Talk Like a Pirate Day. In desperation, Baur and Summers turned to me for help. As an influential newspaper columnist, I have the power to ''make or break'' a national day. You may recall that almost nobody celebrated Thanksgiving until I began writing about it in the 1970s.

I have given Baur's and Summers' idea serious thought, looking for ways to improve it. One variation I considered was Talk Like a Member of the Lollipop Guild Day, on which everybody would talk like the three Munchkins in the film version of The Wizard of Oz who welcome Dorothy to Munchkin Land by singing with one corner of their mouths drooping down, as though they have large invisible dental suction devices hanging from their lips. But I realized that would be stupid.

So I have decided to throw my full support behind Talk Like a Pirate Day, to be observed this Sept. 19. To help promote this important cause, I have decided to seek the endorsement of famous celebrities, and I am pleased to report that, as of today, Tom Cruise, Julia Roberts, Britney Spears, Brad Pitt, Oprah Winfrey, the Osbournes, Tiger Woods, Ted Koppel, the Sopranos, Puff Doody and the late Elvis Presley are all people who I hope will read this column and become big supporters. I see no need to recruit President Bush, because he already talks like a pirate, as we can see from this transcript of a recent White House press conference:

REPORTER: Could you please explain either your foreign or your domestic policy?

PRESIDENT BUSH: Arrrrr.

Anyhoo, now ye be understandin' the origin. But other websites and peoples all over the world, not just in America, arrr, are celebratin' the occasion too. The whole thing has 'specially proven quite popular, it has, with Australians and the British!

What do we do, Cap'n Ransom? ye be askin'.

And the answer is simple: Ye talk like a pirate, ye scurvy dogs!

Why? ye may be askin' further.

Because if not, ye'll be walkin' the plank! But an even better answer, says I, would be this: Why not?

Say somethin' piratey, ye hearties, and have fun with it. Websites all over be presentin' their own ideas for what pirates would say in landlubber places like yer work office, eatin' out, goin' to school, or e'en at the movies. Ah, but the sea — that be whar the best of phrases be risin' up from the depths of Davy Jones' Locker.

(But watch what websites ye be keelhaulin' from the depths fer lookin' at, mates. Not all of 'em're havin' things for polite pirates to say.)

So begin preparin' for Sept. 19, ye swabs, in the week we have until then!

And whate'er happens, me hearties, never forget to clean yer (s)words.

Arrrrr.

- (Cap'n) Dr.Elwin Ransom
Buckler of Swashes
Chief Engineer
Starfleet Admiral
Captain of the Pirate Frigate U.S.S. Jack Sparrow

My Tuesday class ran from 9 a.m. to 10:15 a.m. Upon exiting and walking down the hallway, I ran into a commotion near one of the computer rooms. Employees were pushing a TV into the area and soon had it turned to a very grainy CBS local affiliate.

I saw one of the World Trade Center towers, smoke billowing upward as if sourced by brimstone.

The thought was horrible: Weren't there two of those?

I asked a student what was happening.

“We're being attacked,” he answered grimly.

Chills overwhelmed me.

I called home. My mother was tearful. My brother was in the background, passing along information from Fox News. I wandered into the building foyer, theorizing. Terrorists, obviously. Perhaps masterminded by Usama bin Laden.

My brother began shouting in the background. Something about it going down.

I returned to the TV room. The image was projected on a screen.

Even more smoke rose. And the second of the two towers had already crumbled.

Students whispered. Completely confused, in the first stages of grief.

One young man was at a computer, already writing something about the experience. An email, perhaps. No ... a journal entry, I recall. I should have spoken with him. He evidently wrote his innermost thoughts, easily readable to me standing nearby. Something like, I want to do something. I want to understand this, and then I want to make the attackers pay.

My, how it all comes back.



Classes were not cancelled. They should have been.

I skipped my math class — one of the few class sessions I ever intentionally passed up.

Reactions were nearly universal. In those days, solidarity existed. People were unified in grief, and some anger.

Only later did I learn about the Pentagon crash, Flight 93 and its incredible story, and the exact nature of the attacks. Air Force One was diverted. The Capitol evacuated. Unconfirmed reports: plane hits the Capitol, plane on its way to the White House, president in D.C., president not in D.C. ...

The deaths of firefighters and New York City officers. Ash and smoke, like a volcanic avalanche, flooding through the streets. People's bodies and hair bleached with the fallout, staggering like zombies ...

I'm tearing up, now. Thought I would. Perhaps it's time to end.

Indeed ... never forget. Just because it's been half a decade doesn't mean the impact should fade.

Being poor usually means having a bad education and living in bad and dangerous parts of town with only very, very few having any chance of escape.

So they need all the help we can give.

CUSTOMER (checking out with David Crowder* Band CD): Someone told me this was really good.

MYSELF: I don't know; I've heard some of his songs, and somehow I just don't like the style.

CUSTOMER: What is his style?

MYSELF (beat, uncertain): Umm ... whiny.

CUSTOMER: Uh-oh, really?

MYSELF (ctnd.): He kind of sounds like a singing sheep.

* No actual footnote included; band names are very silly.

Fortunately for the store, she wound up purchasing it anyway. Unfortunately for her — he still sounds like a singing sheep. And a former fan I know claims the band's music has turned into “cotton candy” substance anyway.

The controversy on the thread centered around whether or not women invite sexual advances by their mode of dress.

I think it might be edifying to have a different picture in our minds while discussing this, since the topic of what is appropriate dress is so volatile. As Dr. R[ansom] uses his analogy/metaphor of buying and driving automobiles at ridiculously young ages, allow me, if you will, to use the analogy of an unrelated object as well.

Let's use tools. Guys want tools, and guys want women. Nothing wrong with that. It's hardwired. If a woman owns a tool and wants to keep it, she doesn't leave it laying around. And ESPECIALLY if it's a particularly wonderful electronic, noisy, power tool. Leave it in the driveway, and you can wave goodbye to it. If you carry it in the bed of your pick-up, laying out there exposed to the world, some unsavoury fellow is going to find it irresistible and attempt to walk off with it.

Nope. If you want to keep your tools for your own use, then you lock them up in tool boxes. This has several advantages: It keeps your tools in one place, where you can find them. It protects them from weather. And it allows you to use them instead of some criminal who walks by.

There's no guilt in locking them up. It's SMART. It keeps them under your own control, where they can be used as you see fit. Neither does it absolve the criminal who steals the tool of guilt and wrong doing. However, if you leave your tools laying out in plain sight, then anyone would say you were foolish to do so, and you yourself have some culpability in the crime.

Do you see how this applies?

If you feel you MUST wear “sexy” clothing, then you MUST be willing to take the risk that there is an undisciplined person out there looking for sex. IF you are a Christian, and believe that, as Jesus said, the second greatest commandment is to love your neighbor as yourself, then you MUST further choose to dress in such a way as not to tempt your neighbor deliberately, whoever they are.

It seems we need more females who can encourage younger women to dress modestly — for the right reasons!

I wonder how much I as a guy can say to someone — particularly a very younger someone — who isn't dressed appropriately.

For example, the other day in a bookstore, a preteen girl came in with (I assume) her grandparents, to look at youth fiction novels. While showing them there, I noted with subconscious satisfaction that she was dressed most appropriately — and yet her tshirt contained this scintilliating slogan:

Do you want to be my boyfriend?

1. Yes
2. No
3. Maybe

“Well!” I told her and her guardians, after showing her Frank Peretti's The Door in the Dragon's Throat. “Are you looking for anything else? Perhaps a boyfriend, as your shirt says? I think today we're out of stock.”

She smiled and laughed nervously, her grandparents laughing much louder.

“How old are you?” I asked the girl.

“Eleven,” was her response.

“You ready to get married?”

Embarrassed shock registered on her face — I love causing those. With another nervous giggle, she replied, “No.”

“Then why act like you're asking for one?” I asked. “You wouldn't test-drive a car before you're 16, would you?”

“Her dad hates that shirt,” the female guardian offered.

“And I think your dad's right,” I told her. “No purpose at all with boyfriends if marriage is so far away.”

Too much said? Too little? Perhaps just right, especially for that age level — and for a young lady accompanied by good-humored adults who seemed to agree. Though I could have only known that for sure in retrospect, at that point it seems a light “correction” by an older guy might help offset the filth the propagandists will be smothering onto her later. ...

PHONE CUSTOMER: So you don't have the book.

MYSELF: We don't have it, sorry.

PHONE CUSTOMER: Well, Jesus Christ.

MYSELF (beat): Is the book you're looking for about Him?

Sarcastro (from The Tick)

A young man, wearing nothing but a linen garment, was following Jesus. When they seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind.

Mark 14: 51-53 (NIV) (emphasis added)