More on Lynndie England...Why won't she just DIE?

"Oh, poor me, poor me! I didn't do nuthin' wrong, and now everybody's hatin' on me..."

That's the seemingly never-ending swan song of Lynndie England, the disgraced ex-soldier and unredeemable loser who was at the center of the Abu Ghraib prisoner abuse scandal in Iraq and who now haunts a trailer part in Fort Ashby, West Virginia, living on our welfare dollars and trying to cash in on the notoriety that she claims is keeping her from getting on with her sad, pathetic life. Back in the news again as she tries to gin up sympathy and hawk her new book, she reportedly wants to keep feeding America the same lies that she told the military jury that convicted her and sentenced her to a stay in prison that, for much of us, was way too short.

Christopher Graveline, the lead prosecutor at her trial and now an assistant federal prosecutor in Michigan, said England and the other defendants are free to present their side to the media.

"But they presented the same facts to the jury, and the jury rejected them," he said.

England was convicted of conspiracy, mistreating detainees and committing an indecent act, one of 11 soldiers found guilty of wrongdoing at Abu Ghraib.

The detainees in the photos involving England, for example, were not suspected terrorists, Graveline says, but some of the thousands of "Iraqi-on-Iraqi criminals'' at the massive prison. None of the men in the England photos was ever interrogated.

"The idea that she and her colleagues were working somehow for military intelligence is not supported by fact," he says.

So basically, England's scumbag baby's daddy Charles Graner was just guarding common criminals--thieves, rapists, murderers, and other garden-variety crooks--and not anyone that was actually being held for intelligence purposes. In other words, Lynndie's still lying about that, and apparently about other things as well. For example, she's still pretending that she had "no choice" but to follow orders, as if she was some sort of good, loyal soldier. However her record shows that she had a history of disobeying orders, particularly orders instructing her to stay away from Charles Grainer and his work area when he was on duty. Yet she'd been ordered to stay away from Grainer and his worksite several times, and she'd repeatedly violated those orders. According to Gary Winkler, author of her new book:

As a clerical support worker, she had no business in the so-called Hard Site at Abu Ghraib, a block of some 40 cells where the supposedly most dangerous inmates were held.

But she routinely sneaked in late at night to sleep with Graner, a hulking 6ft 3in ex-Marine in charge of the night patrol.

At the time of their affair, England was also married, to childhood sweetheart James Fike, so their relationship was against U.S. military rules.

Even after being repeatedly warned, she refused to break off with Graner and was eventually demoted.

So much for her claim that she always followed orders without question.

Winkler, who is now estranged from England, says that she's planning to sell some previously unreleased Abu Graib pictures to the highest bidder sometime in the future.

This is not someone who is honest or sorry. And lest you think I'd only speculating, I'll quote Lynndie's own words:

‘Sorry? For what I did?’ she interjects, incredulous. ‘All I did was stand in the pictures. Saying sorry is admitting I was guilty and I’m not. I was just doing my duty.’

So now unrepentant and bitter Lynndie--a girl that even her own biographer admits "isn't very deep" sits around trying to convince us all that she's the victim here (all while trying to get rich) and trying to justify her existence.

She says she submitted hundreds of resumes for all kinds of jobs, but no one would give her a chance. She stopped trying months ago and depends on welfare and her parents to get by.

She also fears for her life, though she's 4,000 miles from Iraq: "I'm paranoid about that one guy who still hates me.''

You know what, Lynndie? It's not "one guy" who hates you; it's practically every red-blooded American man and woman in this country. You disgraced our country, you dishonored our real soldiers and pissed on their sacrifices, and if you got hit by a car tomorrow, the number of people who would actually miss you are dwarfed exponentially by those of us who would smile and call it karma. I fact, if I had my way, you'd be stuffed into a sack with a dozen rattlesnakes and dropped down the closest mine shaft.

On second thought, that'd be cruel...to the rattlesnakes.

Just go away and die, you disgusting little bitch. There's no way back for you.

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A day away

So yesterday, I went along with Nicki on a trip to deliver her daughter to the grandparents' house up near Philadelphia.

Now I shall miss this child, as she's one of my most reliable and credible witnesses when I tell tales of Nicki's road raging. I half suspect that she was actually spirited away for just that reason.
On the way back, we stopped all too briefly at Valley Forge, home of the newly-formed Continental Army's winter quarters in 1777 and 1778. It's a fair-sized park, and we were only able to see but a fraction of it before having to rush on, as we'd intended to meet my old friend, Massad Ayoob, for dinner following a class that he's teaching in Harrisburg this week-end.

We caught the tail end of Mas's class, then met his charming lady friend Gail, and Ken, another LFI grad who is actually local to Washington DC, and we adjourned to his hotel for a casual pizza dinner and a nice, relaxing evening. We caught up on old times, and as you can tell from this picture, Nicki was enjoying Mas' Michael Jackson jokes to no end.

And of course us all being gun folk, the appropriate fawning was done by all over Mas' new Springfield Armory XD, as modified by SA's custom shop.





It has a easy to acquire fiber-optic front sight, adjustable rear target sights, an enlarged mag well, and a trigger pull that's to die for. ow I have to figure out what I can sell to get one of those...that pistol was a work of art. I might just have to put Lagniappe up for sale again. (Not to worry, every time I sell him, he always sneaks away and comes back.)


It's nice to get away every once in a while and spend time with good friends, even if only for a day.

Happy Dog

Because it was about 90 degrees today, I took Lagniappe to the river so that he could swim and cool off..




Happy dog.

Happy, happy dog.

On Michael Jackson

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Michael Jackson was once asked what was the best thing about having sex with twenty seven year old boys.

He grinned and replied: "There's twenty of them!"


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When Farrah Fawcett got to heaven, and went through the pearly gates, she was greeted by St. Peter.

"You know," said St. Peter, "We really enjoyed your work here. Especially Charlie's Angels! I still have a poster in my office of you with that red swimsuit!"

Farrah is a little taken aback, but she thanks him.

St. Peter goes on, "Well, I have a special reward for you. I'm prepared to grant you one wish. Have anything in mind?"

Never one to be selfish when she was alive, Farrah thinks for a second and decides upon a wish. "I'd like for all the children of the world to be safe and sound forever."

"Done!" exclaims the Saint. He snaps his fingers, and Michael Jackson appeared next to Farrah.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

What's the difference between Michael Jackson and a Disney film?

Disney films can still touch kids.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The air feels fresher today, and the food tastes better now that there is one less serial child molester on our planet.

And that's all I've got to say about that.

Sarah Palin vs. Jennifer Granholm

OK, this is the match-up that people in the media keep talking about. Apparently the Dems are upset because Alaska's Governor Palin is considered hot and more than a little sexy by much of America. So they're now trying to market Canadian-born Michigan Governor Jennifer Granholm as an alternative.
Playboy even has a poll on it (Granholm's getting stomped) and many talking heads and snarky leftist columnists are comparing the two. Most of them, predictably, are trying to make the claim that Granholm is allegedly smarter than Governor Palin because she went to Berkeley and because Obama's considering her for a US Supreme Court slot. Of course they overlook the fact that her meteoric rise to the governorship of Michigan came about through political patronage and little else, unlike Sarah Palin's. Yes, Jenny Granholm started out as Corporation Counsel for corruption-plagued Wayne County, Michigan (think "Detroit", folks), where she was basically a lackey for Ed McNamara, the man who also made Kwame Kilpatrick Detroit's mayor before he went to jail.
Jenny rode McNamara's coattails and used his influence to become Michigan's first female Attorney general, a position in which she basically did nothing other than pose for photos and hold press conferences while dramatically shrinking that office's staff of criminal prosecutors. Using that publicity and running against a former governor that no one wanted to see back in office (Jim Blanchard, folks...Michigan's version of Jimmy Carter), She replaced outgoing conservative Governor John Engler, inheriting from him a robust state economy and bulging state coffers. (Engler had saved Michigan from Blanchard's ruinous policies just as President Reagan had saved America from Carter's. Conservatism works wherever it's allowed to be implemented, folks.)

Jenny managed to narrowly win the governorship, a feat credited in large part to Kwame Kilpatrick turning out the Detroit voters--almost all of whom vote Democrat--in record numbers. It was just enough to push her over the top even though most of the state's rural population voted against her, proving once again that "Machine" politics is effective, and usually to the detriment of everyone but the machine.

But here's the part that most people who like to compare Granholm to Governor Palin overlook:

Under Governor Palin's leadership, Alaska's economy soared, and the people in that state enjoy somme of the lowest taxes and least amount of government regulation in the country. Through Palin's negotiations with the oil companies, the average Alaskan gets over a thousand dollars a year in Permanent Fund (royalty) payments in lieu of paying a state income tax. People in Alaska are keeping their money and actually getting paid directly as the rightful beneficiaries of favorable contracts negotiated on their behalf by their governor (Palin) and other elected officials. Alaska's unemployment rate is below the national average (9.4%) at 8.0%. Michigan's--one of the lowest in the country when Governor Engler was running things just a few years ago--is now one of America's highest at 14.1%. Good job, Jenny! Just keep taxing those businesses like you've done since taking office. The revenues are just flowing in from that scheme, aren't they?

So to those who want to compare the two woman governors, it's time to put the snark aside and focus on actual records. While it may by fun and serve a political agenda to mock Governor Palin and pretend that she's some sort of hick or buffoon, all while holding Governor Granholm out as the next star child, honesty requires an evaluation of their respective accomplishments, and that evaluation is more devastating to Granholm's image than anything that Tina Fey or David Letterman could ever say. You see, the facts paint a different picture. They show us two governors, one of whom--Jenny Granholm--was handed the throne in a state that was looked upon as a model for the nation, only to tank it in her first term, all while the other governor--Sarah Palin--clawed her way to the top on her own merits by promising the voters a government based in conservative principles. Governor Palin kept those promises and her state is one of the healthiest today, in stark contrast to the formerly healthy one that Granholm rode into the ground. And it begs the question: all other things being equal, where would you rather live and who would you rather have in charge if you had a choice? People are moving to Alaska today to take advantage of the jobs and the opportunities there. I haven't heard of anyone deliberately moving to Michigan--or even staying if they could get out--for a long time.

Take a bow, Governors Palin and Granholm. Your accomplishments and your legacies speak much louder than the political hacks and the late-night talk-show fools. And when you compare those accomplishments and legacies, suddenly Governor Palin doesn't look all that dumb, nor does Governor Granholm look all that bright.

A Fathers' Day tribute

On Fathers Day, it's only fitting to reflect back once again on times past and memorable times spent with my father.

One story that's never going to leave the annals of our family stemmed from a time many, many years ago when my father worked for a newspaper and was tasked with delivering bundles of papers to various racks and customers. I was very young at that time and considered it a great treat whenever he'd taken me along on these "adventures"

Well that night, as I rode with him, I'd taken to toying with a needle-nose pliers in his car. Now normally this would have been a non-issue, but for some reason, at one point during the night, he saw fit to bend over while opening a new bundle of papers and in doing so, he presented an irresistible target for a few seconds. I reached out and nipped him in the butt with the pliers.

Now it was at this moment that I learned two things about my father. I learned that he could jump about three feet off the ground, and I learned that he actually knew curse-words...a lot of curse-words.

We didn't talk much for the rest of the night, and rumor has it that there was a considerable bruise the next morning. And to this day, I cannot look at a pair of needle-nose pliers without remembering that incident.

He didn't hit me that night though. For some reason he never laid a hand on me. That wasn't always the case though when I'd earned it, and I can remember one of the best ones I ever got took place when we were on our way to Florida on a family vacation, pulling a trailer cross-country behind our big old Mercury station wagon. Naturally, my sister and I took to squabbling and fighting in the back of the station wagon, where we were out of reach of my father up front. Periodically, he'd shout back and warn us that he was about to stop the car and give us what for, but we kids knew when he was bluffing even back then. On this day though, we actually went beyond the limits of his tolerance and all of a sudden we felt the car decelerate as he pulled over onto the shoulder of I-75.

Aw, damn. As he got out of the car and slammed the door, on his way to the back of the station wagon, we knew that there was nothing on earth that was going to prevent the application of his hand to our behinds. Nothing except...

Irrationally figuring that a spanking delayed was somehow better than one administered without additional provocation, I dove over the seats and hit the power door locks just as his hand yanked on the door handle. Now we were safe for the moment and he was locked out on the side of the interstate. Of course it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that when he did get in--and he inevitably would--that it was going to be worse...a lot worse. So when he yelled "Open that door RIGHT NOW!", I obeyed, but then my desire for self-preservation kicked in and I immediately re-locked it when he grabbed the door handle.
"OPEN THAT DOOR!"
I again unlocked it, but then panicked and re-locked it again as he shook the handle and raged. This was bad, real bad, but I couldn't think to do anything smarter to get out of this situation.

It definitely didn't help matters that our mother was sitting in the front seat, laughing.

Now I wish that I could say that eventually we negotiated a truce by which he was allowed back in the car in exchange for not killing me, but it didn't work like that. I kept unlocking the door, then re-locking it as he grabbed the handle, until eventually I mis-timed it or perhaps my mother hit the "unlock" button on her side and overrode me. He got the door open and the ass-blistering commenced in earnest.

But I can't say that I hadn't earned it with honors by that time.

The other really good one came when we'd pulled into a rural gas station in Deliverance, Georgia or some such hick town. The Mercury was overheating or otherwise acting up, and my father did what all guys did back then when cars weren't working right--he got out, opened the hood, and began peering at an engine that he understood about as well as a monkey understands algebra. And as he bent over to study the engine, for some reason I leaned over the seat and hit the horn.

Of course he jumped and smacked his head resoundingly on the inside of the hood. And while this was bad enough, what really put the frosting on the cake was when the bunch of local inbreds who'd been sitting on the gas station porch watching all broke out laughing.

To this day, my butt twinges when I think about what happened next.

But my memories of my father aren't limited to times when I earned and got ass-whuppings. I remember him taking me out of school one day on my birthday to go downtown Detroit to Tiger Stadium to watch Mark Fydrich pitch a game. I remember that the Tigers lost that day, but I didn't care. The treat was spending the day with him, and actually being taken out of school to go to a ball game--something that was unheard of back then.

I remember him teaching me how to drive, and how I repayed him by using his Buick Skylark to knock half a wall off of a new addition we'd just put on the house, bringing his three-week old Dodge Aries home minus a front fender, and drowning his Pontiac Bonneville in a pond that lie at the end of a dirt road that I'd never been down before and which I'd decided to explore at a rate of speed that was much too high.

And that was just all in the first year. But he was amazingly tolerant of those stupid stunts. It was only later that the reason was suggested by my grandmother--his mother--when she enlightened me as to some of the things that he'd done to his father's car when he was my age.

And if what goes around does come around, no son of mine will ever learn to drive until he's thirty or so and buys his own car.

I remember my father showing up in the hospital the night that I lost my leg a few years ago, too, even though he lived five hundred miles away. He stayed for a week, his own job put aside, and then he returned for a few more weeks after I was out of the hospital, just to stay and help me adjust and get by. I really needed him then and I won't forget how much he helped me get through those days, even when all we really did was play cribbage, drink beer and talk. That was enough.

He was always strong in his Christian faith when I was young, and he still is today. He was always a role model for me in that regard, and these days, both he and I share a strong faith, with part of mine being attributable to his example and discussions that we had when mine wasn't so strong.

My dad was and still is a hell of a good guy and a good father, a Ward Cleaver kind of dad with more than a few Homer Simpson moments. He's not perfect, but then he never had to be. It's enough that he's just himself.

Happy Fathers' Day, Dad.

And for more, re-visit my previous Fathers Day post here.

Old Reliable--the Smith and Wesson 66

Or, the Model 66-1 4", for S&W purists.

All I know is that this .357 Magnum revolver of mine and I go way back together.

It was an impulse buy, initially. I'd had an FFL (Federal Firearms License) back in the early 1990's, but when President Clinton revamped the rules to wipe out most of the small home-based dealers like me, I had to let it go. I'd thought that it had expired at the end of the previous month, but when I was wrapping up my paperwork one day, I realized that it was actually still valid until...this very day! Shoot--I could still buy another gun with it! But if was almost 8pm EST on a Saturday. Where could I find one?

Then it hit me... An outfit called J&G Sales in Arizona had Saturday hours and might still be open. They already had my FFL on file. On a whim, I called them and they confirmed that as long at the FFL was still valid at the time of sale, they could sell and ship me whatever I wanted. Then they told me that they were about to close and that I had to hurry up if I wanted something.

I grabbed a Shotgun News and flipped to their ad. As I was looking at it, I saw that the used Smith and Wesson revolvers were on sale, so I snagged this one for $199.00. It was the official "last gun" on my FFL. That's really the only reason that I bought it, truth be told.

But then it got here. It was nice. Solid, and with clear sights and a smooth but crisp trigger...it was everything that the old military surplus guns I'd traditionally bought were not. I fell in love with this revolver.

I took it out and shot it a fair bit. I liked being able to shoot the high-powered .357 rounds interchangeably with the cheap .38 Special loads. But I was still a fan of semi-auto pistols, so I didn't really use it for anything serious for a while other than employing it as a nightstand gun. It was great for that because it has no safeties to fumble with in the dark when you're waking up to the sound of glass breaking. It's like an instamatic camera...just point and shoot.

But then I went out to Colorado for a summer to go to school. I lived in a camper and I brought a few guns for recreation and self-defense. Since I also had a Rossi .357 lever-action rifle at the time, it was only natural that I bring that and this handgun, so that I would just have to stock one caliber of ammo in the tight confines of my truck. And what a great pair they made. I hiked the Rockies all summer with that pistol on my hip, knowing that if it got wet (as it often did), the stainless finish would protect it better than any blued or parkerized gun. I also knew that it was powerful enough to stop most predators, both four- and two-legged.

This pistol even helped me educate an anti-gun girl on that trip. I'd hiked way up a mountain one day, arriving at a scenic overlook that was also accessed by a jeep trail. As I enjoyed the view, two jeeps filled with what appeared to be college kids showed up and got out. They were enjoying the view too, all except one girl, who kept looking at me, and particularly at my pistol. Finally I said something to her and she asked me why I was carrying the pistol. Her tone wasn't hostile--just curious. We got to be talking and of course she had never owned or fired a gun and her family--in Boulder(surprise)--didn't approve of guns. So I asked her to imagine a scenario just like our present situation, where none of us on the overlook had a gun.
"Now what would you do if I turned out to be some raving axe-murderer?"
"Well," she said, "we'd just get back in the jeeps and drive away."
"Sounds great," I replied. "Now what do I do if you all turn out to be the raving axe murderers? And what would you be able to do in my shoes?"

She paused for a moment. "You know, I honestly never thought about it like that..."

And I could almost see the light come on.

Now I can't tell you that she ran right down to the local gun shop and bought an Uzi, nor can I boast about how I offered to take her shooting and spent the rest of the summer shacked up with her. This isn't Penthouse Letters, Hot Guns issue. I just have to report truthfully that we talked a bit more and then parted company forever. But I do believe that she went back down that mountain with a few new thoughts in her head. Maybe they took, maybe not. One can always hope.

Between the rifle and pistol, I fired nearly a thousand rounds of ammo that summer. That rifle I could take or leave (and I ultimately sold it) but this pistol became a trusted, reliable partner on subsequent camping trips and hikes.

Now that I have a CCW, this pistol is one of my preferred carry guns, ranking right up there between my All-American .45 1911A1 and my Jedi-quality HK P7 or Browning Hi-Power. I love my P7 and my Hi-Power--I really do--but I also love stopping power, which is why I prefer the .45 or .357. A friend of mine ( a "nine lover") frequently points out that 9mm has been the military and police standard cartridge in most of Europe since before World War Two. However my belief is that while 9mm seems to be just fine for shooting Europeans, here in America, our bad guys need a little more to knock them down, and when you hit something with a .45 or a .357, it usually stays hit.

So this pistol today occupies high place in my armory. In fact, if I had to choose just one pistol to keep for the rest of my life, it'd probably by this one over any of the others. It's simple, rugged, and the wide range of ammunition available for it allows it to fill many more roles than most other sidearms. I love this gun and trust it absolutely.

Lagniappe likes it too.

Are you talking to ME?
Well go ahead, punk. Make my day!

An apology to my readers who have tried to post here

It has just come to my attention that many of you have tried to post comments to this blog over the past couple of months, only to have them not appear here.

It's not that they weren't approved. I generally approve most any comment that doesn't insult me or bore me. What's happened is that I wasn't getting e-mail notifications of some of your pending commments so I never actually got to make the "approve/dispprove" choice. I just found a huge stack of these pending comments on the blog's home page and I quickly went ahead and approved most of the ones that didn't fall under the above criteria. Sorry about that. I didn't reject your comments--I just never saw them until today.

Further investigation has revealed that the fault is either Blogger's or Lagniappe's--I'm not really sure which.

But just because I've warned Lagniappe in the past to be more alert for stuff like this, and because he saw fit to lick me on the face the other day as I lay on the couch trying to take a nap (immediately after he'd taken an oft-forbidden drink from the toilet), it's clear that something has to be done.Bids will be accepted until midnight tonight.

Bad dog...Bad, BAD dog!

And to think I used to get mad at my last Shepherd, Oliver, for chasing and grabbing other people's frisbees...

BERLIN — A dog playing fetch in Germany has found and delivered to its owner a U.S. hand grenade from World War II.

Police in the western town of Erkrath said Monday they were called by the dog's 40-year-old owner who stopped walking her pooch when she recognized the "rusty" object it was carrying was a weapon.

Police summoned a munitions expert Sunday to identify and defuse the grenade.

Grenades and bombs left over from World War II are still often found in Germany.

Sometimes whole streets in neighborhoods are evacuated so that such devices can be safely defused.

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Burglars break into home of country's longest-serving police officer just hours after his death

Sgt. Manuel Curry, popular figure in Central City and Irish Channel neighborhoods and one of America's longest-serving police officers, is pictured here in 2004 as he was about to leave for D-Day ceremony in France. Curry participated in the famous World War II invasion.







A D-Day vet who subsequently served as a police officer for sixty-two years--making him the longest-serving police officer in this country--dies, and this is the respect that he gets from three shitbirds who will never be anything close to his equal.

Sgt. Manuel Curry's death last week of heart failure brought a wave of despair and an outpouring of support from the ranks of the New Orleans Police Department and the neighborhoods where Curry worked and lived.

It also apparently prompted three people to pounce on a criminal opportunity.

Within hours of Curry's death Thursday morning, police say, two local men and a woman broke into his home in the Irish Channel.

They rifled through his belongings, stealing several guns, plus money, jewelry and medication, according to a police report and his wife.
Kevin Carr, left, and Robin West are suspects in burglary of police officer's home.

Curry's wife of 51 years, Genevieve "Jackie" Curry, said she received news of the burglary while at a funeral home arranging her husband's burial.

Her response: "Oh, my goodness. Who would do this?"

Curry, believed to be the country's longest-serving, active-duty police officer still working full time, had never been a crime victim, his wife said. A World War II veteran, Curry participated in the D-Day invasion of Normandy; he died two days before that event's 65th anniversary.

In his 62-year New Orleans Police Department career, Curry wrestled bank robbers, responded to shootings, and nabbed pickpockets and all types of sordid characters in the 6th District, a tough triangular swath that encompasses Central City, the Irish Channel and the Lower Garden District.

He was the epitome of a community police officer, spending his whole career, save for a few months, in the same district.

Yet in death, he became a crime victim.

"He would have been shocked to see this, " his wife said Monday. "The place looked like a hurricane came through."

Curry's colleagues from the 6th District hit the streets alongside officers from other specialized units to search for suspects. Eventually, they found a witness who provided names and details of the break-in.

Robin West, 24, allegedly had served as the lookout, pacing the 2800 block of St. Thomas Street, while Eddie "E-Fat" Scott and Kevin "K" Carr, 19, ransacked the home, the report states.

West was picked up by police Friday at 11 p.m. in the 2700 block of Fourth Street, according to court records. Carr was arrested around that time near the intersection of Aline and Annunciation streets. Both were booked with burglary. An NOPD spokesman said Monday that a warrant had been issued for Scott's arrest.

Still reeling from her husband's death, Jackie Curry said the men and women of the NOPD have given her great comfort.

"Let me tell you, the police worked overtime and were great, " she said. "I am so thankful for them."

The burglary took place at the same shotgun house in which Curry had lived nearly his whole life. His family moved there when he was 15, his wife said. He never left.

He stayed at the house during the week as he worked and joined his wife at a country home in Lacombe on the weekends.

. . . . . . .
Seriously, this is a case that calls for three lengths of rope and three tall trees. The criminals involved are nothing but dog shit and they will never be anything but dog shit. It's time to just scrape them off of the bottom of the shoe of society and be done with them. Anyone who would victimize any senior citizen on the day of her husband's funeral is unfit to live in this world, especially when the victim's husband devoted the majority of his life to serving this country and his community. Let's hope that, for once, the justice system in New Orleans actually works as intended and these scumbags pull some hard time behind bars.

Rest in Peace, Sarge. God knows you've earned it.


Oh--and in a related New Orleans note, bumbling Mayor Ray Nagin and his wife and a bodyguard have been quarantined while in China. Getting quarantined these days is understandable, what with all of the Swine Flu breaking out. What's not understandable is why that fool is in China instead of carrying out his duties in New Orleans. I'd also like to know how much his "business trip" cost the residents of New Orleans but I'm sure that we all know by know that "Mayor Chocolate City" feels confident enough to just ignore such questions. After all, he was re-elected after he totally bungled Hurricane Katrina, so why would he ever think that a little trip to Asia paid for out of city funds is going to cause him any trouble?

Sometimes Justice still triumphs

And in Jeffersonville, Indiana, admitted cheater Kristen Reno and her enabling mom, Pamela Scott, got that lesson driven home this morning as her graduating class walked across the stage to get their diplomas without her.

You see, Kristen decided to have one of her friends improperly change her grade for at least one class in the school computer. When this was found out, the student who made the changes was expelled, and the kids who'd had their grades changes--including Kristin--were still allowed to graduate but were barred from the graduation ceremonies.

Now normally, this would have been the end of it. Lesson learned. But this is the day of the Liberal, where everyone is entitled to everything. Kristen and her mom hired a lawyer and sued the Clark County School Board to force them to let her walk across the stage with all of the other kids who hadn't cheated.

Now Kristen had been given an alternative option. The school had told her that she could re-take the exam that she'd cheated on, but she refused. She apparently decided that she shouldn't have to do anything at all to atone for what she'd done, and her and her mom (there was no evidence of a father in this story...go figure) rushed out and filed a hurried lawsuit rather than accept the punishment or retake the test the honest way.

However, Judge Jerry Jacobi decided that the school board was within it's rights to set punishments for cheaters and otherwise administer the school system, and he denied her plea for special treatment. Personally, I think that she's lucky to even be allowed to graduate and that any diploma that she gets should have an asterisk on it, kind of like Barry Bonds' steroid-assisted home run record.

Hopefully Kristen shakes off this "poor little me" attitude and comes away with the understanding that cheating is wrong and when you try to fraudulently gain something that you don't deserve, you stand a good chance of being penalized.

How does that Honor Code go again? Oh yeah... "I will not lie, cheat or steal, or tolerate those who do." Kristen would do well to apply that to her life as she allegedly plans to attend Indiana University Southeast and become (are you ready for this?) an education counselor.

And here's hoping that mommy Pamela gets a wake-up smack to the head and quits coddling and enabling her kids. She certainly didn't do her brat any favors here when she taught her that doing wrong and getting caught just means that you hire a lawyer.

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It was sixty-five years ago today...

Sixty five years ago today, American troops stormed ashore on the beaches of Normandy, France, the first step in our ultimately successful effort to save Europe from the tyranny of Nazi Germany. 2,499 US soldiers paid a price that day, including 1,465 who were killed. But we did what we had to do, and we ended the war and set Europe free.

And much of Europe has resented and hated us ever since.

Pathetically, our media is pretty much ignoring the day (just like they did last year), unless they're using the occasion to tout Obama.
"Oh look...Obama's visiting some place called 'Normandy'...Let's get some pictures of Obama and write about Obama some more...Gee, we love him..."

Screw Obama. This is not his day. This day belongs to the veterans, and the survivors. This is a day where we're supposed to reflect on American sacrifice and the American fight for liberty and justice for all.

And that's all I have to say about that. Other Americans said it better, sixty five years ago.

New Orleans, killed off again.

So New Orleans is once again the murder capital of America.

There was a time when I was sympathetic, but that was back before New Orleans—my adopted hometown and favorite city despite it’s problems—was the recipient of a golden opportunity but threw it away in the name of politics.

New Orleans has had problems for a long time. There never were too many jobs there, and the city was plagued with crime and poverty, particularly the areas around it’s numerous sprawling public-housing complexes, which ranked among the worst in America.

But then Hurricane Katrina came along and wiped out much of the city. And in it’s wake, New Orleans was given a priceless gift—a shot at a new beginning.

To begin with, everyone was evacuated from the city. Nearly every single person was removed. No one was deliberately left behind, including the thousands of useless layabouts and criminals in the public housing complexes. These people were redistributed among thirteen other states—in many cases put up in hotels or placed in local public housing apartments—and the city literally had the chance to start over.

First the clean-up and rebuilding began. For this, workers were needed and gladly accepted. Wages were high, but accommodations were scarce due to the damage that the hurricane had wrought. The city began working to rehabilitate enough residential space to house the workers who were necessary to rebuild the city. Had they just focused on this, they could have done like many of us suggested and simply rebuilt a smaller, more economically-viable city, populated mainly by people who were there to work. But politics soon reared it’s ugly head, and those running the city knew that they stood to lose in the next elections as any smart voter would hold them accountable for their numerous failings during the crisis. Worse—the political losses might even extend far enough up the ladder to affect the balance of power closer to the top of the ticket in this state which was narrowly but consistently controlled by one political party, the Democrats. The democrats knew that they could not win over people who had lost property and livelihoods due to their malfeasance, so they scrambled to dilute the voter base with more tractable, reliable voters. They reached out and called the welfare crowd back, knowing that this group of sheep would vote “Dem” on election day without giving it anything even remotely resembling a thought.

But to bring the welfare voters back, they had to give them someplace to stay. So the orders went out, diverting construction and rehabilitation projects away from market-rate units intended for workers and steering those resources into reopening as much of the old public housing properties as they could, and giving out Section Eight vouchers when that wasn’t sufficient. They ran around the country, trying to coax back every hood rat and Oprah-watcher that they could find, and even as the employers struggled to find enough housing for the workers needed to rebuild, the non-working masses were flooding back in, often getting priority for desirable housing. They weren’t interested in jobs and had no intention of helping rebuild, but they were sick and tired of living in places like Houston--where they were busy jacking up the crime rates just like they'd done in New Orleans--and the Democrats wanted their votes. So the scum were brought back, and the crime rate began to climb again. But what’s a little crime when Ray Nagin’s job was on the line? A little crime was acceptable if it meant that the criminals would vote him and his cronies back into power. And sure enough, they did. Nagin got re-elected, as did William Jefferson. Corruption and incompetency were unacceptable to many of those productive people who were working to restore the city but they did not matter to the criminals and welfare cheats who were brought back just to tip the election back to the Dems. The bad guys won, but now most of the people who had made New Orleans such a cesspool and who had actually been relocated were back again. And the city that almost rose from the dead has cancer again.

Now the city that only a few years ago had so much promise and opportunity for anyone who wanted to work is more violent than many third-world countries. It’s populated by losers like Darrion Scott, the seventeen year old mother of a two and a half year old, who stabs bus drivers just because she doesn’t want to follow simple rules.

NEW ORLEANS—Authorities say a woman who was repeatedly asked to fold up her baby's stroller on a New Orleans city bus refused, then poured milk on the driver before stabbing her in the chest.
New Orleans police and transit officials tell The Times-Picayune newspaper that the veteran Regional Transit Authority driver suffered a 4-inch deep wound but she survived.
Authorities say 17-year-old Darrion Scott boarded the bus with her 2 1/2-year-old baby and was asked to fold up the stroller. Authorities say Scott tore the top off the baby's bottle of milk and poured it on the driver before stabbing her.
She has been charged with aggravated battery.
The driver, Hanella Johnson, was released from the hospital Wednesday. She has been an RTA driver for 18 years.

Good job, Democrats. Thanks, Mayor Nagin. New Orleans was almost free of this sort of stuff before you fought to bring it all back. Post-Katrina, Darrion Scott was somewhere else for a while, and probably would have stayed somewhere else but for you guys working to bring her and thousands more like her back. The decent people who committed to trying to rebuild the city deserved better, but you put your political careers ahead of their lives and safety and you killed off a city that was in the process of being reborn, just because it was easier than trying to make amends for your ineptness or returning to the private sector.


CORRECTION: My first posting of this had former Mayor Marc Morial's name where Ray Nagin's should have been. I don't apologize as much to Morial as I do to New Orleans residents who have every right to at least have the correct mayor held responsible. Thanks to Bigezbear for pointing my error out. Mea Culpa. Or, in the words of Ray Nagin..."My bad".

Guns on aircraft...

So I’m having this disagreement with Nicki regarding the carrying of firearms on commercial airliners.

I am just fine with the idea of sworn police officers—be they federal, state or local officers—carrying their issue firearms on aircraft while on or off duty so long as they’ve taken and passed the FAA’s “Flying While Armed” class that teaches them what to do and not do in flight. (It’s actually a pretty comprehensive class. I’ve taken it, but I won’t divulge what it consists of because terrorists and Democrats may read this blog.)

Nicki, on the other hand, thinks that pretty much anyone with a concealed weapons permit (CCW) should be allowed to tote their loaded guns onto commercial flights.

Sorry, but as much as I support gun rights and concealed carry for law-abiding citizens, I can’t go there.

I support armed professionals on aircraft as a deterrent to hijackers. The Air Marshals are a good start, even though the FAA did water down the program in their rush to hurriedly get as many as possible on board as many aircraft as they could. Extending it to other armed professionals—trained police officers—only makes sense. These are people who have been vetted by background checks, trained in police academies and continuing in-service programs, and monitored by supervisors and their peers from their first day on the job. They are people that we already know and trust with the ability to use deadly force for the protection of others, and they don’t become any less trustworthy just because they are on an aircraft.

When it comes to John Q. Citizen, however—the ones that people like Nicki want flying armed—I have to draw the line for a few reasons, the first being that few of them have the same level and type of training and experience that the average law enforcement officer does. Yeah, I know—there are people reading this who will tell me how they go to the range three or four times a week and punch hundreds of holes in paper targets. But speaking as someone who has also spent many hours on the range AND been through actual police training, I can state that they are in no way comparable. The paper targets don’t move, shoot back, or otherwise work to stress you out. There’s a major difference between the two, and the average CCW holder just isn’t up to that level. Sorry, folks.

My second reason is that in much of America today, practically anyone without a criminal record can get a CCW. Frankly, I could see an al Qeada sleeper terrorist or muslim convert like Abdulhakim Mujahid Muhammad, John Allen Muhammad or John Walker Lindh getting a CCW for the express purpose of boarding an airliner. What a coup that would be for their cause. However, common sense suggests that they’re much less likely to get hired by a police department and make it through the training and scrutiny that recruits are subjected to.

But my biggest reason—and one that really saddens me because I have to feel the way that I do: Gun owners themselves.

I have, over the years, come into contact with thousands of fellow gun owners, both police and civilians. And while the police community has a few goofballs in it, the gun owning community is unfortunately rife with them, and these days one need go no farther than their computer to see what I mean. The internet contains countess pro-gun discussion forums, and almost without exception, every single gun-related forum out there contains a number of total jerks who seem to do nothing but brag and bluster about their plans and desires to shoot other people, from the burglars that they lie in wait for, to the muggers that they pray will attack them, and even American military and police personnel on the day that the civil war that they long for kicks off. These idiots are a small minority on most boards, and they frequently annoy everyone else with their obnoxious behavior, but they also set the tone for this debate by virtue of their mentality, behavior and very existence. And if you’ve ever logged on to any discussion board, you’ve doubtless seen them--they’re usually anti-government, often anti-police, frequently Libertarians or Ron Paul kool-aid drinkers, and they do little more than make the forums and gun owners in general look like perpetually angry hicks and losers. Sure, they’re almost certainly bolder on the internet than they are in real life because they feel safe in their anonymity, but there’s no doubt that most of them are immature assholes in real life too. If you’ve spent any time on boards like AR15.com, FALfiles, Uzitalk, Glocktalk or Gunboard Forums (just to name a few—no board that I’m aware of is free of infestation), you’ve undoubtedly run across these types and if you’re like me, you wouldn’t feel comfortable having them around you or your family with a loaded gun. However many of them have concealed weapons permits by virtue of the fact that they’ve not been convicted of a serious crime yet. That being the regrettable case, I for damned sure don’t want tools like that on an aircraft that I’m on. Sorry, but gun owners tend to be their own worst enemy at times, and I’ve encountered enough of them who refuse to live up to the responsible, mature image that we’re supposed to idealize that I’m no longer willing to automatically give the “thumbs up” to any joker who has a gun or even a CCW—particularly when we still have states that don’t even require mandatory training to get a CCW. While gun owners, like every other segment of the population, fall under the 10/80/10 rule, with 10% being exemplary, 80% being average, and 10% being folks who should never be allowed to own a gun, until we can find a way to grant the ability to fly armed to that top 10% who would be an asset on any aircraft, I have to side with those who say that we need to protect ourselves against that latter 10% as much as we do the terrorists (probably more so, because I suspect that there are more of them in America today), even if it’s to the disadvantage of the other 90%. Like I said—I’m seriously pro-gun, but as far as I’m concerned, the lowest common denominator in our midst is literally wrecking it for everyone.

Perhaps when enough other gun owners band together to police the pro-gun community and shun or drive out the morons and take other steps—like supporting mandatory training for CCW issuance—designed to enhance and elevate our credibility, I’ll change my mind. But I don’t see myself changing it today.

Man armed with front-end loader attacks police...and pays the price

It started out as a day like any other...and then the crazy Kentucky redneck put down his banjo and his copy of "Better Trailers and Gardens" and tried to kill several law enforcement officers with a 30,000 lb front end loader.

A Bracken County man was killed after officers said he charged them in a construction vehicle.

The Kentucky State Police said troopers and Bracken County sheriff's deputies were called to a home on the AA Highway near Eden Ridge Road shortly after 9 p.m. after neighbors heard a woman screaming.

When officers arrived, the woman escaped from the home after a brief standoff, and a trooper fired at Robert Bradford as Bradford ran to a barn carrying a gun.

Then, troopers said, Bradford, 50, suddenly came out of the barn holding a gun and driving a 30,000-pound front loader toward them.

Sgt. Brian Bowling said Bradford first struck an unmarked state police cruiser and shoved it over an embankment.

Bowling said that when Bradford backed up and turned the front loader toward troopers and deputies, they opened fire.

Bradford was hit at least once and was pronounced dead a short time later at Meadowview Regional Hospital.

The front loader was brought to the KSP post in Dry Ridge early Monday. Most of the glass on the sides of the cab was shot out, and more than a dozen bullet holes could be counted in the front windshield.

Both right side tires were also flattened by bullets.

The Kentucky State Police could not immediately say if a trooper or deputy shot Bradford.

OK, so it didn't end well for Bradford. His choice. But the important thing is that all of the good guys went home safely to their families, with the possible exception of the poor guy whose cruiser got crushed...he's probably still writing that report.

Bottom line here: a deadly-force threat can come in many forms. It's not just the normal "bad guy with a gun/knife". Vehicles count as deadly force too, especially big car-crushing ones. The police are being criticized right now on the local "comment" pages for being "trigger happy", but most of those comments come from people who have never worn a badge or faced a deadly threat. stupid comments like "they could have shot the tires out" or "all they needed to do was shoot the engine" make about as much sense as the Monday-morning quarterbacks who say that police should just shoot the gun out of a bad guy's hand. (And of course it's always a bad guy who "was just getting his life turned around"...)

Of course, being Kentucky, the people writing to condemn the police officers for doing what Bradford forced them to do are probably related to Bradford...and each other. Like I said--it's Kentucky.

Anyway, the scumbag is taking a dirt-nap and the good guys all survived. I'm satisfied. It's a damn shame that Bradford made the choices he did, but they were his choices, and he paid the consequences. The only tragedy here is that now these officers have to live with the trauma of this incident. But again, that's all on Bradford. Screw him and his inbred hick supporters.