tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32473502125509148792024-03-19T01:07:47.657-06:00Frankenstein GovernmentBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.comBlogger2123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-9310616187743798352024-02-19T11:42:00.002-07:002024-02-20T21:15:20.373-07:00Living Amongst the Hoople Heads- The Sunday Collage<p> What exactly is a hoople head? I first heard the term in the wonderful "Deadwood" series and what follows is a perfectly good definition of that term. </p><p><span face="Source Sans Pro, Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 18px;">Hoople head</span></span><span face=""Source Sans Pro", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;"> referred to the people that made the hoops that went around wooden barrels</span><span face=""Source Sans Pro", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">. The job took little skill and very little intelligence...thus "hoople head</span><span face=""Source Sans Pro", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">" meant an unskilled, low intelligence laborer.</span></p><p>I should also note that hooped barrels are long gone. But the hoople heads remain.</p><p>I was once a hoople head myself. It was demonstrated to me on a car lot sometime in 1986. I had spent nearly an entire day struggling with a sales gal to have the retail price of a car I was interested in simply reduced to the high retail price for that car as listed in a N.A.D.A. book which back then- was some closely guarded secret. After six hours or so, they finally reduced the price. They even gave me a low book price for my trade in. Feeling triumphant, I signed the documents. I did not see the inflated interest rate until weeks later, when I noted that my bank would have loaned me money at 9% yet somehow the car lot had seen fit to charge me 12.5%. The additional 3.5% I was assured- was pocketed by the dealership and finance manager. This additional amount exceeded the price reduction I had wasted an entire day negotiating.</p><p>I was angry but knew I had been had. The absolute worst part of the entire negotiation was when it was finally over on the car lot that day and we were signing the documents, the sales gal told me what a great negotiator I had been. Now, weeks later, I felt like an idiot. A hoople head.</p><p>I had a choice. Work harder or remain a hoople head.</p><p>One of the problems with being a hoople head is that most people never realize they are hoople heads. They go about their lives, getting skimmed, sold various lies, laboring for far less than their actual worth. They also offer hoople headed opinions, often making bad decisions.</p><p>What happens when you have a democracy, or a majority of citizens, comprised of hoople heads? </p><p>You have what we have now. Kind of an angry, dysfunctional, unconscious, majority mob convinced that everyone else is the problem. </p><p>The internet and social media have exposed the hoople heads. These are people just bright enough to operate a cell phone and dumb enough to pay a thousand bucks for one. </p><p>How does a society keep the hoople heads from getting angry? Free food, subsidized rent, free health care, and some device like a TV or phone to distract them all day. Satisfying the basic needs of your hoople head demographic was observed thousands of years ago. Philosophers coined the term "bread and circuses" for this long ago. </p><p><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">In a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Politics" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Politics">political</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> context, the phrase means to generate public approval, not by excellence in </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_service" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Public service">public service</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> or </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_policy" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Public policy">public policy</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">, but by diversion, </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Distraction" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Distraction">distraction</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">, or by satisfying the most immediate or base requirements of a populace,</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-1" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; text-wrap: nowrap; unicode-bidi: isolate;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bread_and_circuses#cite_note-1" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;">[1]</a></sup><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> by offering a </span><a class="extiw" href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/palliative" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="wikt:palliative">palliative</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">: for example </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Food">food</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> (</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bread" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Bread">bread</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">) or </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Entertainment" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Entertainment">entertainment</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"> (</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_circus" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Roman circus">circuses</a><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">).</span></p><p><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;">McDonalds and cell phones.</span></p><p>Mostly I think, we are doomed. The hoople heads have control of a ship just looking for an iceberg. They have been duped by politicians, the government, the insurance industry, big pharma, and that sales gal on the car lot. They spend their time gazing at phones and discussing botox.</p><p>The hoople heads have control of the ship. It won't be long. Prepare yourself for an ice cold swim in the Atlantic.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-68844210793401253152023-12-16T14:11:00.003-07:002024-02-05T08:02:29.615-07:00First, We Abandoned Virtue- The Sunday Collage<div>This post was first published in September, 2014.</div><div><br /></div>Sorry for the delay today. Late night, didn't get home until 2 a.m.<br />
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A couple of weeks ago, I was reading some interesting stuff about societies and how they eventually crumble and implode. More than a few people have postulated that the first things to go wanting are values, morals, and integrity. This was first proposed by Socrates and then expanded on by Plato<i><b> as they spoke of virtue as moral excellence.</b></i><br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excellence" title="Excellence"></a>How are people supposed to understand the importance of virtue if your society doesn't teach it and your leaders don't possess it? Not only do we lack any type of "leadership by example" but when was the last time you actually heard anyone, anywhere, describe a President or a Congressman as honest? If all you ever see is this current day "dog eat dog mentality" from your leaders doesn't that become the standard? If you look outside politics, you see greedy corporate pirates such as the Koch Brothers, Gates, and Angelo Mozilo. If your Congressmen and women are allowed to accept bribes from lobbyists, trade equities on information they receive as they formulate laws that impact various publicly traded industries and corporations, give themselves giant raises, sweet lifetime retirement deals, and health packages outside of Obamacare- at what point does our culture accept that as the norm or worse yet, describe it as intelligent? I think they already have. <br />
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It gets worse I think. If people don't understand the importance of virtue, they begin to see it as unnecessary. They don't apologize for their lack of virtue because they don't see any reason to have it. So I think that type of moral decay has to be in place before societies crumble. When we collectively abandon civil ways of dealing with each other, abandon virtue, morals, and ethical behavior- we are ensuring our demise. It makes perfect sense. If people are setting the example, treating each other civilly, and always acting within the bounds of virtue and integrity- your society is at it's strongest. There is no moral erosion. In fact, I often think that this missing piece is the root of all of our problems. I see it everyday.<br />
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When I was a child, two things happened. My parents instilled a strong sense of right and wrong. Note that I had two parents. I was taught how to behave with virtue. That does not mean that I always behaved correctly- often as a child and a young adult, I did not. However, those were just my poor choices. Secondly, children were taught civics in school and our teachers were very active and involved with this. This three pronged approach- two parents and our schools- taught us the importance of integrity, virtue, and ethical behavior.<br />
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This doesn't happen anymore. Schools quit teaching civics long ago. Two parents is an iffy proposition and chances are good that one or both parents have dismissed virtuous behavior as a waste of time anyway. Instead, they are busy working and accumulating "things."<br />
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Replacing virtuous behavior in our society is the idea that all we really need to do is comply with the legal minimums. What is barely legal is the only concern nowadays. Corporations and the pirates that run many of them, take every advantage possible. They pay the bare minimums. They routinely find ways to skirt having to pay overtime, health insurance and other benefits, and all they really care about is greed. If they can get away with something, they will. Acting responsibly and doing the right thing are no longer big concerns. Accumulating as much wealth as possible is their only concern. It is a sickness. Our political leaders lie with impunity. They engage in every greedy and self centered act just so long as they can get away with it. Some might be cash register honest- but I'm not convinced they have that much integrity. Take a look at some of these people, consider Darrell Issa. He is a former CEO and quite wealthy. He also has an unbelievable criminal history- most of which he has gotten away with- while now acting head of the Government Oversight and Reform Committee. You cannot make this stuff up.<br />
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And watching this dog and pony show, is a culture and society that hasn't had any real or moralistic leadership since JFK and some might even argue that. Nobody leads by example today and oddly, there are people who would argue that our current leadership is fine. Remember, you can't possibly know what you haven't been taught. It doesn't come by osmosis.<br />
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Could the slow erosion and demise of our society and culture occur because we abandoned virtue and ethical behavior for self-centered-ness and materialism? Could it be that simple?<br />
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I think so.<br />
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What remains to be seen is whether our culture picks itself up, recognizes what is wrong, and gets back on track with some moral excellence or whether we continue to circle the drain. It almost makes me sorry that I'm not going to be around to see how all of this ends. If we do manage to pick ourselves up- it certainly won't be at the behest of our current government "role models." In fact, it may very well occur without them. Let's hope so.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-90332630107497259742023-12-15T10:29:00.001-07:002023-12-15T10:29:29.671-07:00I Couldn't Attend the Funeral- But I Sent a Nice Letter of Approval<p> I was lost and now I am found.</p><p>A month or so ago, I was messing around with my control panel and managed to lose everything on my computer before re-installing it.</p><p>This is what happens when you barely have enough know how to turn your computer on and then attempt to change all the settings.</p><p>Anyhow, what was lost is now found. After an ample amount of work and cursing.</p><p>In the comments, I saw an old friend ask if I was still around. To MM and my 3 other readers, yes, and while I have achieved a level of writer's block that has me wondering if I should have even bothered to restore the settings on my laptop- I am still here looking for new subject matter.</p><p>This morning I was perusing the old town's newspaper when I came across the obituary of a former colleague of mine. I am so used to feeling a sense of loss every time one of my old friends die- that I have never felt an opposite emotion. A bit of glee when an old enemy left this earthly coil.</p><p>Now I've never gone looking for enemies. Most of my life has been spent waiting for them to arrive. They just show up.</p><p>Now most of that I'm told, is my attitude. </p><p>So about 25 years ago now, I am sitting in my office when one of the city's deputy clerks comes into my office. She is upset that kids are toilet papering her trees. She wants to know what to do.</p><p>Now at this stage in our relationship- I hardly know this gal. I see her around City Hall once in awhile. Because she is a fellow city worker, I tend to be more truthful and direct than I might be with a random member of the public.</p><p>I tell her she could get some cameras and offer some other suggestions, but I tell her most likely- we will not be able to catch these kids. They will hear or see our patrol cars and then run and hide.</p><p>She said nothing else, stood up and left. Little did I know that I had just created an enemy. No doubt, my fault. That is what I am always told.</p><p>So for the next four years, this gal did everything she could to heap misery on my life. Demanding receipts for inconsequential items listed on charge cards, telling coworkers I was an asshole, trying to get me in trouble or fired by the City Manager and the Mayor. All of it failed of course, but it damaged my reputation enough that it helped aid my early departure.</p><p>One day, this gal walked into my office and said she hated me. From the moment we met. I was dumbfounded by her. Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill. She assured me, once again, that it was all my fault.</p><p>She was an east coast liberal. I was a conservative, western farm kid. We were probably doomed from the start.</p><p>So when I saw her obituary today, I had a different sort of feeling. I was kind of happy. It felt strange. I had dreaded seeing her at the old Chief's funeral this summer but as it turns out- she was fighting a cancer diagnosis of her own.</p><p>I often wonder if all that malignant hatred people have festering inside them can cause physical illness. </p><p>Perhaps, her death, was my fault too.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-22643929948908410762023-09-13T09:31:00.004-06:002023-09-13T22:14:09.225-06:00The "Keeping Time" Has Arrived- The Sunday Collage<p> Mrs. Elizabeth Powel asked Benjamin Franklin the question. What do we have, a republic or a monarchy? Franklin answered, "A republic if you can keep it."</p><p>Probably historically true. </p><p>In a republic, the power to govern is held by the people or their elected representatives. By consent. We have checks and balances for those representatives, and we have a rule of law. That theory was meant to keep an oppressive government at bay. To keep them from acquiring too much power</p><p>In a democracy, the people directly make every decision. There are no representatives. Democracies often devolve into mob rule democracies. Like the one we have now.</p><p>A republic is meant to protect the minority from the oppression of the majority. A rule of law is what keeps it civil. A minority member's interests are protected. Until the mob takes over.</p><p>Now we can debate who, what, when, and how we have lost our republic. We can even debate whether we still have one or not. On paper, we might have a republic. In reality, we have a liberal majority that has taken over our communications, our healthcare, and is now targeting our representatives with a myriad of criminal charges.</p><p>In short, the minority is no longer protected from the oppression of the majority. The majority is setting about the task of eliminating it's enemies, imposing it's will, and intimidating people into "join up or suffer the consequences" decisions that mob families used to offer. Allowing millions to cross our border swells the majority ranks.</p><p>Indeed, we have arrived at the keeping time.</p><p>With 100% certainty, not one of us have lived through an American Revolution or Civil War. But there are a number of common threads that bind those two events.</p><p>People don't want to be ruled and told what to do, or how to live. Just like southern states didn't appreciate being told what to do- or else. Come to think of it, the American Indians didn't like it either.</p><p>That's what defines those moments. The colonists and the southern states were minority participants being oppressed by a majority that were telling them what to do and how to live. We know how they responded. In another day, I referred to the minority as "no" people.</p><p>The "no" people are getting pissed off. They are receiving no representation, no offers of compromise, no rule of law. Indeed, the government is simply setting about the task of eliminating the "no" people through taxation, criminal charges, suppression of free speech. Now they are going to try and erase the "no" people's representative and a few of his soldiers.</p><p>This drama is unfolding right before your eyes. It also comes with a deadline. The first Tuesday of November- a little over one year away.</p><p>Oh don't get me wrong. I don't think we are voting ourselves out of this mess. The oppressive majority has that covered.</p><p>Like erosion, our rights are whittled away, one by one over time until we have the cumulative mess we have now. The majority has no interest in leveling the playing field. They will destroy any protections. Indeed they are chipping away at that right now.</p><p>What remains to be seen is just how far the majority is willing to push their agenda but more importantly- is how the minority will respond. What will unfold in the national drama playing out right now will absolutely change the course of American history. This will be the year from hell. Make no mistake about it. Dramatic? Absolutely.</p><p>The keeping time is here.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-32422911598838120972023-08-19T10:10:00.014-06:002023-12-13T07:04:27.677-07:00The Killing of Craig Robertson- The Sunday Collage<p>"Anger is brief insanity." Mom attributed the quote to Hemingway. Having been on the receiving end of mom's wrath more than a few times, that phrase has always made sense.</p><p>Craig Robertson, age 75, died in Provo, Utah on August, 9, 2023. He was killed by an FBI tactical team for making threats. He was an Air Force veteran, welding inspector, and wood worker. He had been married twice and widowed twice. He had three children. </p><p>He was not in the best of health and walked with a cane. He loved guns and was a member of the NRA. Robertson was no fan of the democratic party.</p><p>To be fair, Robertson had made several threats regarding Joe Biden, Vice President Kamala Harris, Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg, and Attorney General Merrick Garland, among others. These were descriptive threats wherein Robertson went into great detail about how he would accomplish the killings of those individuals. We must assume that he actually made those threats on social media, since he never got a chance to explain himself. Not that he would have. Many are listed here. <a href="https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/crime/who-was-craig-robertson-what-we-know-about-the-armed-trump-supporter-shot-dead-in-utah-fbi-raid/ar-AA1f2nRL">https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/crime/who-was-craig-robertson-what-we-know-about-the-armed-trump-supporter-shot-dead-in-utah-fbi-raid/ar-AA1f2nRL</a></p><p>So Robertson owned many guns, talked with bluster, and even answered the front door holding an AR-15 rifle once after Provo P.D. knocked regarding an incident some time prior. This was an interesting complaint in which two men, in an unmarked van, trespassed onto Roberton's property to make some sort of cable repair. Robertson confronted them and was well within his rights. Apparently, no aggravated assault or other chargeable offense happened that day and Robertson was not arrested. Hmmm...one wonders who those guys really were.</p><p>It's an oddity, growing up on property in the west, frequented by hunters. If people are going to be on your property, then good conduct suggests that they stop by the house, get permission, or otherwise inform a homeowner of an easement or repair. Failing that common courtesy, you might indeed be met by an armed property owner.</p><p>That's the way it was and still is- in parts of Montana and Idaho.</p><p>So if a guy is making all of these terrible threats, is armed and not very cooperative, and the President is arriving in Salt Lake City that day, a mere 60 miles away, what is the solution? </p><p>Is there some interim solution for a person making threats that doesn't involve killing him? Yes. Of course there is.</p><p>That's the really bothersome part. Craig Robertson picked up guns and defended his property. Did the Provo Police and the FBI know that? Of course they did. So making a pre-dawn tactical entry onto Mr. Robertson's property meant that he would be awakened to the sound of "flash bang" grenades and immediately attempt to retrieve a gun to protect himself. Knowing all of that, the FBI could simply execute him because undoubtedly if he wasn't actually holding a gun as they entered- he would have one nearby. That was all quite predictable. That's why they used a tactical team and a dynamic entry.</p><p>It doesn't hurt that Merrick Garland was one of the people Robertson targeted with his threats. To be sure, the FBI was operating with impunity. Garland wouldn't lift a finger to investigate or charge the FBI with a preventable killing simply because Garland was one of the victims.</p><p>They dragged Robertson's body out to the street and covered it with a sheet on the sidewalk for a couple of hours. I am sure he was so thoroughly shot that calling an ambulance was a waste of time.</p><p>I waited to hear any sort of press release. I looked for a Provo Police car in video footage. Nothing. But I did find this statement today from the FBI and clipped it. </p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: TiemposText; font-size: 18px;">"The FBI takes all shooting incidents involving our agents or task force members seriously," the FBI said in a statement. "In accordance with FBI policy, the shooting incident is under review by the FBI's Inspection Division. As this is an ongoing matter, we have no further details to provide."</span></p><p>Forgive me for laughing. I call this, "we investigated ourselves and found we did nothing wrong." In my prior life the local Sheriff would do this. Investigate himself and conclude that his agency did nothing wrong. I should also note his father was an FBI agent. Perhaps that is where he learned that unbiased investigatory tactic.</p><p>All of this means this. Robertson was executed. That's the end of it. It will soon be predictably forgotten. The FBI knows that. So do the politicians. The Mayor. The local cops. Me.</p><p>As I prepared to write this, I must have read at least 15 different stories and accounts of this incident. The left leaning accounts paint Robertson as some crazy, gun toting, MAGA nut job. The right leaning versions of this story paint Robertson as a quiet, nice man who frequently helped people. Everyone seems to have an agenda today. So forget all of that noise. </p><p>Craig Robertson was by all accounts, in poor health. He may have been depressed as well. But the real telling part of this incident are the threats Robertson made. Who descriptively and publicly states how they would envision and enjoy killing public officials? Who does that? </p><p>Robertson was no different than half the country. He was pissed off about the hijacked election and the failure of anyone to properly investigate it. He was angry at the officials prosecuting former President Trump. There are millions of us like Craig Robertson. The only difference between Mr. Robertson and millions of us who agree with him- is that we can restrain ourselves from making public threats lest we find a tactical team lobbing flash bangs through the front window and ramming our front door.</p><p>It is clear to me that Mr. Robertson was angry and mentally ill to such an extent that he no longer had any restraint. Officers on crisis intervention teams could spot this a mile away. That's why we have crisis intervention. To find out what has changed in an individual and help them. They could have called family, his bishop, his friends and neighbors. Officers could have sat down with Craig, "You gotta quit doing this. How are you feeling?" Have you quit taking medications? Are you sleeping well? Intervene. Lure him out with friends and family. A protective custody arrest and examination while Joe was in town. </p><p>One decent cop could have done this. I used to do it all the time and I come with references. I never killed anyone.</p><p>One crazy old war story for the road that ties this all together. </p><p>Years ago, we had a giant of a guy that walked all over town carrying an axe. At 6'5", loud, and strong- Howard scared people to death. He would walk into banks, grocery stores, down city streets with a giant orange ax slung over his shoulder. He intimidated people. Carrying an ax is not illegal. One time I conducted a traffic stop on Howard and he jumped out of his vehicle and came running back towards my patrol car with that ax. Until he saw it was me. And then he started laughing uproariously. </p><p>I was scared for Howard. Any other cop could have made a pretty decent case for having to shoot him in self-defense. As much as I grew to love Howard, I was scared for him, and I was always a bit wary. I never fully let my guard down.</p><p>You see over time; I understood Howard's depression. He was bi-polar. We talked a lot and I came to know him. Weekly. I began to understand that Howard was simply seeking attention. Howard had been ignored most of his life. People paid attention to him when he walked around with that ax. And when the shit hit the fan, as it often does with guys like Howard, I'd go visit Howard after he asked for me. Eventually Howard quit carrying that ax. We became friends. I looked Howard up a few years ago and found he had died, in his 50's, in Flagstaff, Arizona where he was from. I miss him.</p><p>The point is, Craig Robertson didn't need to be killed. I am sure his death will be ruled justified by whatever friendly body says so. The officers who shot him might even feel that it was necessary and justified. Sleep well, gentlemen.</p><p>On our patrol cars we had a phrase. Serve and protect. Who was protecting Craig Robertson on August 9? Who had the balls to square off v the FBI? Apparently nobody in Provo. On this car "To Serve and Protect" has gone missing.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCotOhhdKS4422yaPvpSATW-a5mBiMUWC481ATetPNrqZmCSW-p4eDyQsVa7o58q9_qdR1SXry6hLk7kA30gT0jzxEG1zXpne5TENCmh17kiEQH0ioby7S1GAvwc1t7LGTm2coXWGlfIWI9zzf3aOPKnNT1GhlHOgLdA-35yg5W62ClOabVOZwuGI0pY8/s1200/provo%20pd.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="1200" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCotOhhdKS4422yaPvpSATW-a5mBiMUWC481ATetPNrqZmCSW-p4eDyQsVa7o58q9_qdR1SXry6hLk7kA30gT0jzxEG1zXpne5TENCmh17kiEQH0ioby7S1GAvwc1t7LGTm2coXWGlfIWI9zzf3aOPKnNT1GhlHOgLdA-35yg5W62ClOabVOZwuGI0pY8/w320-h134/provo%20pd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>There is a lesson here. You can't simply execute someone for running their mouth or soon we may all end up like Craig Robertson. Mr. Robertson, like Howard I think, was just angry and seeking some attention.</p><p>That's all it ever was. </p><p>Update: On my "X" account, someone calling themselves "Karl Marx" posted what appears to be a copy of the affidavit used to get the Robertson arrest warrant.</p><p>This is an arrest warrant affidavit. Not a search warrant affidavit. Note also that the FBI did nothing back in March on counts one and two. Where was the urgency then? Count 3 occurs just prior to the Presidents arrival. </p><p><a href="https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/23904100-complaint-against-craig-deleeuw-robertson">Complaint Against Craig Deleeuw Robertson - DocumentCloud</a></p><p>*Update. One week later in Henderson, Tennessee. An almost identical killing with the FBI's boilerplate statement. This one may be worse than Robertson.</p><p><a href="https://truthpress.com/news/disabled-vet-killed-after-fbi-raid-on-tennessee-home/">https://truthpress.com/news/disabled-vet-killed-after-fbi-raid-on-tennessee-home/</a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>*Update 2. Utah County now set to investigate whether killing Robertson was justified or not.</p><p><a href="https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/crime/fbi-shooting-of-utah-man-accused-of-threatening-biden-to-be-investigated-in-utah-county/ar-AA1fOMpN?ocid=msedgntp&cvid=269489ca884d4067abb839c9c35345cd&ei=13">https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/crime/fbi-shooting-of-utah-man-accused-of-threatening-biden-to-be-investigated-in-utah-county/ar-AA1fOMpN?ocid=msedgntp&cvid=269489ca884d4067abb839c9c35345cd&ei=13</a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-63990172311797523462023-08-09T09:02:00.009-06:002023-08-13T04:30:09.758-06:00The United States- The World's Biggest Banana Republic<p> This week was one for the ages.</p><p>The Michigan State Police confirmed that hundreds of thousands of illegal ballots, a conspiracy in the swing states, was not only caught on video and investigated- Michigan did nothing and the FBI did nothing. This video amazingly coincides with the 3 a.m. miraculous election of Joe Biden in 2020 who was losing and then suddenly pulled a Presidency out of a hat.</p><p>Via the Gateway Pundit, you will likely not see this anywhere mainstream. <a href="https://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2023/08/now-we-have-proof-tgp-exclusive-massive-2020/">https://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2023/08/now-we-have-proof-tgp-exclusive-massive-2020/</a></p><p>The Biden family was paid over 20 million dollars by Chinese, Russian, Ukrainian and Kazakhstan nationals while Joe was the VP. Funny now that Biden and the democrats have been sponsoring the Ukrainian war with US tax dollars after receiving bribes in the millions. This while Obama was President. What did he know? </p><p><a href="https://www.theepochtimes.com/us/foreigners-paid-more-than-20-million-to-biden-family-associates-bank-records-5453849">https://www.theepochtimes.com/us/foreigners-paid-more-than-20-million-to-biden-family-associates-bank-records-5453849</a><br /></p><p>The J6 committee lost pertinent records regarding the "insurrection" staged on Jan 6 following the sham election of Joe Biden. Conservatives would have called this event a demonstration although the DC police did manage to murder un armed Ashli Babbitt which certainly takes the shine from a demonstration. The event likely would not have occurred in the first place if democrats hadn't managed to steal the election or if Nancy Pelosi would have agreed to provide National Guard protection for the event. Hint* she decided against it much like Hillary giving aid to Christopher Stevens.</p><p><a href="https://beckernews.com/j6-committee-cover-up-house-dems-wiped-records-on-security-failures-scrubbed-communications-with-biden-white-house-51414/">https://beckernews.com/j6-committee-cover-up-house-dems-wiped-records-on-security-failures-scrubbed-communications-with-biden-white-house-51414/</a></p><p>The indictments for Donald Trump exercising free speech just keep coming. All in all it is a black liberal sweep. Every prosecutor is black (one judge) and they are all flaming liberals. Fani Willis' father was a member of the Black Panthers. She will undoubtedly file indictments for Trump soon. Talk about tilting the playing field and with that crooked Merrick Garland at the DOJ- it's not going to get any better.</p><p><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now </span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-b88u0q r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Attorney</span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-b88u0q r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">General</span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Letitia James; </span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-b88u0q r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Georgia</span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> District </span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-b88u0q r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Attorney</span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Fani Willis; District </span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-b88u0q r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Attorney</span><span class="css-901oao css-16my406 r-poiln3 r-bcqeeo r-qvutc0" face="TwitterChirp, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.03); border: 0px solid black; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1419; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Bragg; and Judge Tanya Chutkan; four Black people. What a coincidence!</span></p><p>Gosh I wonder which party had them all installed. Special thanks to George Soros, the Democrats, Mark Zuckerberg's stealth campaign contributions, and President Obama. The worst part about this week is that we are only half way through. </p><p>Update. FBI swat team performs a tactical operation in Provo on a man who made threats to various officials including Joe Biden. This apparently warranted a no knock warrant and killing the 75 year old obese man with a cane. I saw no Provo PD at the scene. Just the dead guy on the sidewalk covered with a sheet. In my day, I'd probably have detailed two cops to go interview the guy. Dealing with mentally unstable people is something locals cops do every day. The FBI sorts it out another way.</p><p>Should the man have threatened to kill officials? Of course not. But killing people for bluster ain't exactly the due process we are guaranteed.</p><p>Kind of a Waco meets Ruby Ridge operation. <a href="https://nypost.com/2023/08/10/craig-robertson-cared-for-blind-son-before-being-shot-by-fbi-neighbors/">https://nypost.com/2023/08/10/craig-robertson-cared-for-blind-son-before-being-shot-by-fbi-neighbors/</a></p><p>Breaking, Friday. Merrick Garland to FINALLY appoint special counsel to look into Hunter Biden. Fuck oh dear. It will be interesting to see what government, partisan, bootlicker he appoints.</p><p>Garland appointed David Weiss from Biden's home state of Delaware. This guy has already been investigating Hunter Biden for years and oddly, has found nothing.</p><p>Those 170 suspicious bank activity reports, shell companies, forensic accounting, several witnesses and co-conspirators, hell they even have the guy who made the bribes for Burisma- along with texts and phone calls.</p><p>I am glad the week is over.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-42316907485688193572023-07-30T10:08:00.007-06:002023-08-12T16:44:29.174-06:00Living the Mediocre Dream- The Sunday Collage<p> Every once in a while, the question of "What would have been your dream job?" comes up. The last time I think- was during a game of trivial pursuit- now almost 20 years ago. </p><p>"A defensive cornerback or safety in the NFL" was always my answer. There were only a few things stopping me from attaining my dream. A commitment or plan to study and work hard, my lack of speed, strength, and leaping ability. Hell, we moved twice during high school. I didn't even play football my junior or senior years.</p><p>But I got a taste of greatness. Once. </p><p>So it was, I was relegated to mediocrity. A mediocre college, a mediocre trade school, a mediocre career as a lawman. I was alright with mediocre. In hindsight, I might not have even deserved mediocre.</p><p>I had no desire to conquer the world, skim hard working bank accounts like an investment banker. I had no money to buy or develop real estate or pirate the business world with some monopolized invention.</p><p>I had no clue what those things even were. Or even where you go to become one of those guys.</p><p>Instead, I knew mediocre. I was the son of a farmer, broadcaster, insurance man. My mother stayed home and raised us, back when that was still possible. My friends were the sons of miners. I would grow old with them or so I thought. Drink beer and laugh with them. Hunt with them. Get wrinkled and die with them. I would have been perfectly content.</p><p>I handled mediocrity quite well. I only made one mistake which cost me a wife, a house, a truck, and my job. Life it seems, can be quite nasty and unforgiving. But life at 46, was far from over. I would have enough time to bounce back. Mediocrity is always within reach. </p><p>This week I attended a funeral. It was for a man, mid 60's, who had two sons that lived far away. He was depressed, alcoholic, and lived in his mother's basement by himself. He couldn't shake addiction, nor could he find mediocrity. Having tried and failed so many times, he wasn't about to try again. In his mind, he had lost everything. He had lost self-respect. That is a very dangerous place. </p><p>With nobody to love, nothing useful to do, and nothing to look forward to.</p><p>The most dangerous person in the world, is the guy who loses everything and checks those 3 boxes. I knew that guy once. Gordon knew that guy, too. </p><p>Most people don't know that guy and I hope you never do. </p><p>I sat and listened to Gordon's service. I listened as everyone spoke kindly of Gordon. Kindness, it seems, is always reserved for the dead. </p><p>I was surrounded by mediocrity at that funeral. No real wealth, no famous entertainers, no investment bankers. Just people trying to live their lives, doing the best that they could, with whatever tools had been bestowed upon them. I was overcome with a sense of gratitude. I was grateful for my simple life. My wife, my family, my house, my cars, my toys. The ability to come and go as I please. Grateful for my history.</p><p>I left that funeral feeling sorry for Gordon. Gordon simply couldn't find happiness- even in some mediocre fashion.</p><p>There is a very famous coach in Butte named Bill Patrick. The guy made you a winner, he was legend. He died several years ago. Coach Patrick coached football and volleyball for over 50 years. Before he died and during a newspaper interview once, they asked Coach Patrick in all of his decades of coaching, which team was his favorite.</p><p>He immediately answered with the 8th grade South Central boys football team, '74. My team. We only played 9 or 10 games a season. We went undefeated. I must have made 20 interceptions that year, ran at least half of them back for touchdowns. I think I had 4 in one game once. I was so proud that Coach Patrick, who has coached professional players, named that team as his favorite.</p><p>We moved from Butte that summer and I soon came back to earth in an enormous high school with a wealth of football talent. We moved again, my sophomore year. I was out of sorts with no friends and coaches who didn't seem all that interested in me. Slowly, it seemed, I was being relegated back to my humble beginnings and my mediocre life having had a taste of greatness- just once.</p><p>We can't all become doctors, NFL players, celebrities, or billionaires. Nobody will appear with a glossy brochure and ask you what sort of glamorous life you would like. Choose something you love, become good at it, and enjoy your life. </p><p>I have a promising future behind me. I am grateful for that.</p><p>A piece of humor, along these lines, courtesy of The Onion.</p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18px;">NEW YORK—Saying that when he looked in the mirror, he no longer saw the man he once deceived himself to be, local man Ron Stockton, 37, told reporters Monday that over the years he had become just a shell of his imagined self. “Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of my [wholly invented] purpose, and the [completely untenable] dreams I had just slipped away,” said Stockton, who added that he worried he was failing to maintain the deep sense of personal integrity he had never actually managed to develop in the first place. “I don’t know what became of that [nonexistent hallucination of a] person I once was, that person who [I thoroughly deluded myself into believing] had so much promise. I honestly don’t understand what happened.” At press time, Stockton reported that he was feeling much better after taking some time to think things over, getting a good night’s sleep, waking up early the next day, and joining a cult.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-492315528047419982023-07-23T07:25:00.001-06:002023-07-23T07:25:20.747-06:00Bring Back the Sunday Collage!<p> Many years ago, I began to focus on writing one good post every week.</p><p>Writing is often a trial-and-error event. We write some very good things, and we write some hideously bad things. Thus as our mood changes, the good writing becomes quite apparent to us and the bad writing is also revealed.</p><p>I note this on several blogs I read daily and weekly. Some are better than others. But what's obvious to me is that the writers have no ill intent. They are writing not because they are being compensated- they are writing because they love to write. </p><p>So years ago, I wrote the Sunday Collage. The Sunday Collage was a collection of all my thoughts and observations during a week, like snipped pictures or images, that I had collected in my mind. Then I would gather those images and write about them here. </p><p>It was perfect. One well thought out piece of writing each week. </p><p>Once, I had some angry woman comment that I didn't even know what a collage was. Of course, I laughed at that- knowing full well that she was technically correct in many ways and also knowing she did not understand the temporal imagery of why I used the term collage. Thus I did not challenge her comment, although I am quite certain that I lost her as a reader. </p><p>We all possess an ability to discern and feel something. We feel the time machine carry us back when we hear an old song. The pull of a photograph that stops time- for just a moment. We remember how we felt at that moment. That's the good stuff.</p><p>I remember how it feels. Now I just have to convey it in a way that matters.</p><p>Here then is a piece which I have always loved. From a little over 9 years ago.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://thecivillibertarian.blogspot.com/2014/06/melrose-sunday-collage.html">https://thecivillibertarian.blogspot.com/2014/06/melrose-sunday-collage.html</a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-79068406887109937392023-06-11T09:32:00.008-06:002023-06-11T16:58:31.398-06:00A Sunday Soliloquy- Liberals Worship Words, Not Deeds<p> Last week, I read a Mia Farrow tweet which immediately preceded a lightning bolt to my head and an "aha!" moment.</p><p>Farrow was bitching about President Trump and the language he uses. According to her, it was so abrasive that she would not allow her children to be in the same room as a TV broadcast featuring Trump.</p><p>Not one to simply separate words from a speaker, she went on an anti-Trump rant. That's when I had the "aha!" moment.</p><p>She wasn't bitching about low inflation, low gas prices, or a secure border- she was bitching about the language Trump uses.</p><p>This is what the democratic party has become. A mob of pussies hell bent on trying to make us use their silly ass pro nouns and words while they topple over our history.</p><p>I started applying my newly discovered Mia Farrow "aha" moment to everyone in my life. It was true. Liberals absolutely hate direct speech that they find offensive- because it does not agree with them. </p><p>Conversely, they loved Obama with his cutesy little jokes. They were willing to forgive the fact that Obama refused to prosecute the thousands of fraud committing bankers who donated to his campaign. They were willing to forget the scandals. The deaths of Brian Terry and Christopher Stevens and 3 others- could not possibly be his fault. </p><p>Because you see, Obama uses nice language. All of that collateral damage, well they reason, it was not his fault. He tells cutesy little jokes and reads carefully scripted speeches. </p><p>Obama was in the same vein as Bill Clinton. Clinton did not sell us out to NAFTA or remove the banking laws that have protected us since the Great Depression. He said nice things and chuckled. So he messed around with an intern- we all know that happens. It was ok to get on national TV and lie to everyone- just be sure and do it nicely.</p><p>That's why they hate Trump. He uses direct, candid speech. No cute jokes or little smiles. He attacks anyone who attacks him. He gets personal. He calls people names. He tweets mean things. Same with Bush. He said some stupid things. Liberals lashed out at both of those Presidents.</p><p>Was it true in my personal life? Did I have the same experiences speaking with liberals? </p><p>Absolutely. In fact, I could find very few exceptions. Liberals do not like to be challenged. They believe they possess the intellectual high ground. They see no merit in anyone that refuses to back down. You are supposed to inhale their words and opinion. Your words, if anything, cause them great angst.</p><p>That's why President Trump is hated by the left. It doesn't have fuck all to do with deeds or bringing jobs home or low inflation. They hate his speech. </p><p>Of course, the conservative side loves Trump. We love watching a non career, no lawyer politician who gives us low gas prices, a secure border, a great economy. We love watching him give the middle finger to liberals, the media, and the swamp. We love watching him get his ass kicked, time and time again, and he just gets back up and fights some more.</p><p>We want deeds, not words. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUtFORs15YaxIKvNnR13zVObl2U62bZ3xFTJEfbo68mfMO-Oata9MhjMXpYvjY_jEerykFgjjo3abQ60kXfQAvchzsBVWgSjJ0i6TnckDQu0J5lO9PV-K6AcZA_xXVZp5arZFqw-tpN-u_454Xhc-3z3I4VL7f0eSRRook8cWSRKcpNO5mfU8ibVA/s679/ain't%20in%20jail.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="571" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUtFORs15YaxIKvNnR13zVObl2U62bZ3xFTJEfbo68mfMO-Oata9MhjMXpYvjY_jEerykFgjjo3abQ60kXfQAvchzsBVWgSjJ0i6TnckDQu0J5lO9PV-K6AcZA_xXVZp5arZFqw-tpN-u_454Xhc-3z3I4VL7f0eSRRook8cWSRKcpNO5mfU8ibVA/s320/ain't%20in%20jail.jpg" width="269" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-81879503890498492292023-05-23T11:03:00.007-06:002023-06-13T19:03:18.339-06:00The Good Thief<p> "Without God, all things are permissible." -from "The Brothers Karamazov."</p><p>Doug and I were brought together by circumstance. We were a couple of lost souls with a willingness to do just about anything. Both of us were sired by alcoholic maniacs, which is to say, our parents were obsessed with their own problems. There was very little energy left for raising children.</p><p>So that was our draw. You either get the "Leave it to Beaver" parents or you get ours. I like to think of it as the "birth lottery." A friend calls it the "ovarian lottery."</p><p>So you do the best you can. Whining about the birth lottery might explain your unpreparedness for adulthood, but it garners no sympathy.</p><p>And so it was that Doug and I stumbled through life and eventually came out on the other side. We very clearly remember our mistakes and we understand now, how it all came to be.</p><p>It's not with a fit of rage or jealousy that I examine the perfect lives of others. I am an inquisitor. When I discover the perfect ones, I examine their lives. Not to judge them harshly mind you, but to discover what winning formula was applied.</p><p>Time and time again, I saw the same recipe. A kind, religious upbringing. Two loving parents, or perhaps only one, committed wholly to raising the children. A strong sense of morality. A true sense of restraint when uttering critical observations. Empathy for others. Patience, tolerance, and understanding. Some sense of humility and a sincere sense of gratitude. An absence of anger.</p><p>I don't remember what philosopher said that in every great culture which eventually disintegrates, the first thing to go is morality. I am a believer. I accept that no destruction of a culture can take place until you remove morality. When people are willing to take a moral stand, en masse, they cannot be broken. They will impose morality upon the others. There will be justice for those who deviate.</p><p>I accept this as true. I also accept that our society is breaking down.</p><p>So if you want to destroy a culture, you must first destroy Christianity and morality. You must destroy a rule of law, consequences, and justice. You deny moderation. Greed, under the guise of capitalism or materialism, cannot be satiated. People begin to covet vast sums of money, worship and emulate billionaires and become willing to discard any constraint in their own pursuit of material wealth. You must be fearful and lack moral courage. You tolerate poor performance and look the other way. As your leaders demonstrate this lack of morality, the whole thing begins to break down. Your culture is disintegrating. God and morality are inconvenient at first and then completely unnecessary.</p><p>I once asked Doug, "Does your father ever regret what he did to your mother?" Doug told me that at the ripe old age of 93, his father is "blissfully unaware."</p><p>My journey as well as Doug's journey I suspect- were backwards. We may have been born with a lack of morality but we acquired one. We accept that we made many mistakes, some terrible, and we must reconcile our stupidity, understand it, and never repeat it.</p><p>Like St. Dismas, condemned to die with Jesus on that long ago Friday, we accept what we are and what we have done. It took us 60 years, but we get it. We believe in Christ, we ask forgiveness, and understand that we are saved by grace and not by deeds. </p><p>We practice acceptance. We can't stop what's coming. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-18103368523553699332023-04-25T09:52:00.006-06:002023-05-17T21:55:10.407-06:00The Death of Norman Rockwell's America<p><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">This may or may not be an actual quote from Franklin Graham.</b></p><p><br /></p><p><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></b></p><p><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"> Time is like a river. You cannot touch the water twice, because the flow that has passed will never pass again. Reverend Franklin Graham was speaking at the First Baptist Church in Jacksonville , Florida , when he said America will not come back. He wrote:</b></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "Liberation Sans", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0.25em 0px 0.75em;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;">“The American dream has ended." The first term of Joe Biden has been the final nail in the coffin for the legacy of the white Christian males who discovered, explored, pioneered, settled and developed the greatest republic in the history of mankind.</b></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "Liberation Sans", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0.25em 0px 0.75em;"> <b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;">A coalition of blacks, Latinos, feminists, gays, government workers, union members, environmental extremists, the media, Hollywood, uninformed young people, the “forever needy,” the chronically unemployed that do not want to work, illegal aliens and other “fellow travelers” have ended........Norman Rockwell's America.</b></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "Liberation Sans", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0.25em 0px 0.75em;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;">You will never again out-vote these people. It will take individual acts of defiance and massive displays of civil disobedience to get back the rights we have allowed them to take away. It will take zealots, not moderates and shy, not reach-across-the-aisle RINOs (Republicans In Name Only) to right this ship and restore our beloved country to its former status.</b></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "Liberation Sans", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0.25em 0px 0.75em;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;">People like me are completely, politically irrelevant, and I will probably never again be able to legally comment on or concern myself with the aforementioned coalition which has surrendered our culture, our heritage and our traditions without a shot being fired.</b></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "Liberation Sans", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0.25em 0px 0.75em;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;">The Cocker Spaniel is off the front porch, the pit bull is in the back yard, the American Constitution has been replaced with Saul Alinsky’s “Rules for Radicals” and the likes of Chicago shyster David Axelrod along with international socialist George Soros have been pulling the strings on their beige puppet and have brought us Act 2 of the New World Order.</b></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "Liberation Sans", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0.25em 0px 0.75em;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;">The curtain will come down, but the damage has been done, the story has been told.</b></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, "Liberation Sans", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0.25em 0px 0.75em;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit;">Those who come after us will once again have to risk their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor to bring back the Republic that this generation has timidly frittered away due to white guilt and political correctness.”</b></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-21371021372416681752023-03-25T14:51:00.001-06:002023-03-25T14:52:59.359-06:00The Father of This Blog<p> I ran across this clip today after arguing economics and money with some prof and his loyal following on Twitter.</p><p>What shocked me was that Milton Friedman used the term Frankenstein Government long before I ever saw this clip.</p><p>Indeed.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="340" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rQLBitV69Cc" width="475" youtube-src-id="rQLBitV69Cc"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-72262478025428658532023-03-17T16:42:00.003-06:002023-03-18T11:13:38.623-06:00Is the U.S. Government Willfully Trying To Destroy Our Reserve Currency Status?<p> It would appear so.</p><p>Many years ago now, I named this blog "Frankenstein Government." I did that as the United States Government, Hank Paulson, and a host of other cowardly government banker types helped themselves to a one trillion dollar taxpayer funded bailout.</p><p>Only in America of the 2008 variety, could you commit all sorts of felonies and fraudulent acts and escape prosecution thanks to Barack Obama. The minions grumbled a bit and then went away. Like they always do. </p><p>On this day, in 2008, we were nearly 10 trillion in debt. <a href="https://www.usdebtclock.org/2008.html">https://www.usdebtclock.org/2008.html</a></p><p>Some 15 years later, we are now 32 trillion in debt. <a href="https://www.usdebtclock.org/">https://www.usdebtclock.org/</a></p><p>That cumulative cash burn smoothed out over 15 years is pretty close to 1.5 trillion a year. An enormous amount of spending, deficits, and debt accumulation. Now I don't want to get sidetracked here with "where did that money go" because we can't do anything about that. </p><p>If you are a real numbers geek, you can look here at the Congressional Budget Office historical view of debt accumulation presented on an excel spreadsheet. <a href="https://www.cbo.gov/data/budget-economic-data#3">https://www.cbo.gov/data/budget-economic-data#3</a></p><p>So the question soon becomes, how did we land here? Was it an accident or was it purposeful?</p><p>I can't escape the possibility that our leadership, Yale grads, Harvard grads, and the current bottom of his class Syracuse numb skull, practice absolute indifference. Of course, you don't sign these bills in a vacuum, you must have some congressional support before they reach your desk like the Inflation Reduction Act- which will do precisely the opposite of it's stated intent. Slammed through before the new Republican majority in the house could get sworn in.</p><p>But what if it's worse than that? What happens when we replace indifference with willfully deliberate? Or intentional? What if our leadership is willfully trying to destroy the dollar's reserve currency status? </p><p>What if one world currency has always been the goal?</p><p>I simply can't escape the possibility that destroying the dollar has always been the goal of the world's elite. It's a concept I was first introduced to in the late 80's. You can't replace the dollar unless you kill it first. There is no better way to kill the dollar than by spending profane amounts, piling on debt, raising stagflation and inflation concerns which results in default or bankruptcy. As things reach crisis proportions- then suddenly we are introduced to some new form of currency. Perhaps it will even be digital. Citizens will be left no choice but to accept this new currency as penitence for our government's willful spending depravity. So kill the dollar. That may have always been the plan.</p><p>Got gold?</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZPNuFcMq8tpnNy20l76n1BrbuXiRI7cbDQIK3hLSZvMh3jYF7s2m0v0jDzpJWllZPvYOS3II7c8nGAFjvtPO1sa4JkOW_iZyVF0NlL6HxXShvUoNvYML9lB0mWoATbsBcVYMJwD8efbrQysLvcW6OgE2AJg82lB9otEBw-KhQG_XA7hkB95CvhQI/s680/they%20re%20after%20u.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="672" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZPNuFcMq8tpnNy20l76n1BrbuXiRI7cbDQIK3hLSZvMh3jYF7s2m0v0jDzpJWllZPvYOS3II7c8nGAFjvtPO1sa4JkOW_iZyVF0NlL6HxXShvUoNvYML9lB0mWoATbsBcVYMJwD8efbrQysLvcW6OgE2AJg82lB9otEBw-KhQG_XA7hkB95CvhQI/s320/they%20re%20after%20u.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-47725307191243895242023-02-28T08:53:00.007-07:002023-03-06T11:43:23.336-07:00Gold Remembers, So That You Can Forget<p>You will never, ever make money by owning gold because that's not the purpose of owning gold. </p><p>In practical terms, you must sell the good currency (gold) to buy the bad currency (US dollar) before it can be used. Gresham's law in reverse. Whether that's 1200 an ounce or 2000 an ounce makes no difference. Gold simply represents how much the currency has been debauched. Gold holds steady while the US dollar flops around like a fish on the riverbank. As the dollar rises- as it has been doing recently because of rate hikes- gold's value goes down. When rates go down and money is sloshing around everywhere- the value of gold goes up. It has always been that way.</p><p>That's the way gold moves in the short term. Longer term...</p><p>Gold has a US dollar inverse relationship. It sniffs out dollar debauchery and moves accordingly. It is the perfect barometer. Gold was 35 bucks an oz in 1971. It is 1830 bucks in 2023. That 5000% rise over 52 years represents the lost buying power of a dollar via inflation and excess money printing. If you owned gold during that timeframe, you haven't gained anything, you have simply maintained your buying power relative to the collapsing value of a dollar.</p><p>Last week, out of the blue, an old friend of mine asked me how much gold I had. It wasn't the quantity part of the question that intrigued me, it was the purpose of the question in the first place.</p><p>The vast majority of people, and I am talking in the 98% range, have no idea where money comes from and are completely clueless as to why anyone would want to own gold. They simply don't understand.</p><p>People snicker because they haven't faced the disaster of being wiped out financially by a government working in concert with a central bank. Not only that, but they have normalcy bias. </p><p>It has never happened before, therefore it can't happen. That's what they think.</p><p>Today I read a remarkable piece of writing that happens to mirror my thoughts with absolute precision. The author nails the heart of the matter. <a href="https://goldswitzerland.com/powells-gettysburg-moment-the-usds-waterloo-todays-open-madness/">https://goldswitzerland.com/powells-gettysburg-moment-the-usds-waterloo-todays-open-madness/</a> The FED will raise rates, which strengthens the dollar, until they can no longer raise rates trying to kill the "inflation" they caused. We refinance half of our debt annually. Can you imagine the interest expense of 17 trillion at 7%? About 1.2 trillion.</p><p>Oh yea, and that other 17 trillion financed long term at 4% or so? About 700 billion. Altogether and very quickly, we are going to pay about 1.9 trillion a year in interest expense. </p><p>The CBO's best case is 1.4 trillion a year in interest expense. Experience has taught me two things about the CBO. They are always best case forward looking and they are never correct. They always underestimate (and get the drum roll please) new wars and new legislation which always occur on top of higher rates. Here's the latest from them and it ain't rosy. Remember, this is best case! <a href="https://www.cbo.gov/system/files/2023-02/58848-Outlook.pdf">https://www.cbo.gov/system/files/2023-02/58848-Outlook.pdf</a></p><p>What is the world going to look like in 10 years?</p><p>It's going to suck. The IRS will be trying to steal everything they can get their grubby hands on. That's why they hired 87,000 new IRS agents. The politicians know what they have done. The hints are there. All you have to do is pay attention.</p><p>There will be a huge buying opportunity for gold and it will come soon. Gold will collapse as the economy collapses. People will rush out of markets as they are getting fleeced. They will dump their assets into anything safe with a return. Time deposits.</p><p>Commodities will collapse as demand collapses. At some point in that 2 year period gold will find new lows. I think sub 1180 is possible and maybe sub 1000. This will be a time when our GDP gears grind to a halt. Demand for goods and services will be gone. People will be out of work. They will not be paying taxes. Annual deficits will soar. Gold mining will cease because gold prices will have sunk and miners cannot effectively make money mining with low gold prices. Gold will be on sale. </p><p>I think the government may try to steal individual retirement accounts. </p><p>When things are so bleak- that's the moment to pounce. I cannot tell you when that will be- all I can assure you of- is that it will happen. I do not know the depths we will plumb this time as we try to spend our way into prosperity once again. I don't see anyone buying our debt. We are a terrible credit risk. If you fail to buy gold at that bottom- you will be priced out.</p><p>While people struggle to get by, you will know the future. The FED will restart the free money train all over again. They will slash rates to near zero, time deposits will evaporate, the U.S. will quite probably lose reserve currency status. The price of everything (inflation) will skyrocket. </p><p>Demand for gold will also go supernova- to the extent that- you may not be able to get your hands on it. Dealer premiums will soar. If you didn't buy at the bottom you sure as hell can't buy at the top.</p><p>I can envision a day when a few ounces of gold may settle a mortgage debt. Gold remembers. The FOFOA blog.</p><p style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: "Roboto Slab", serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px 0px 10px;">Halfway through the interview, I ask him where does he see the price of gold reaching in the days to come. “Well, I don’t see gold’s trajectory being typical of what you’d expect to see in a bull market… And I expect that physical gold will be repriced somewhere around $55,000 per ounce in today’s purchasing power. I have to add that purchasing power part because it will likely be concurrent with currency devaluation,” he replies.</p><p style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: "Roboto Slab", serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px 0px 10px;">Meet FOFOA, an anonymous blogger whose writings on <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">fofoa.blogspot.com</em>, have taken the world by storm over the last few years. In a rare interview – one of his preconditions was he’ll not be photographed — he talks about paper money, the fall of the dollar, the coming hyperinflation and the rise of ‘physical’ gold.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-92039993210766881152023-02-18T13:24:00.002-07:002023-02-18T13:48:51.265-07:00Guilty Until Proven Innocent, the George Kelly Story<p> George Alan Kelly is a rancher who lives just north of the Mexico border on a ranch. </p><p>Now you might wonder, why would anyone buy a ranch on the Mexican border? Well, Mr Kelly bought the ranch back in 1997 when we protected the border. It wasn't a free for all until President Biden and his illegal immigration handlers turned it into a drug running, human trafficking, do whatever you want, war zone. </p><p>Perhaps Biden and friends should be charged with aiding and abetting illegal immigration. That'll be the day.</p><p>At any rate, Mr Kelly is eating lunch at his home and hears a single gunshot and sees a number of men, likely Mexican nationals, on his property armed with guns that he believes were AK 47s. He arms himself, fires a few warning shots, and the aliens eventually disburse. He calls police. The police come out, take the report and leave.</p><p>Hours later while searching his ranch, Mr. Kelly finds a dead body- shot thru the chest or back- depending on the entrance wound. He calls police again.</p><p>The deceased is a Mexican national who has been deported multiple times. Drug runner, maybe. Trespasser, obviously. Who shot him is anyone's guess but I'm betting it ain't George Kelly.</p><p>Mr. Kelly is arrested. His bond is set at 1 million dollars.</p><p>In America, you will hear this bullshit about being innocent until proven guilty. And for 25 years, every dangerous felon I ever locked up and wanted held in jail, got me the standard prosecutorial response. </p><p>"Bail is only set to guarantee the defendants appearance in court." Blah, blah, blah.</p><p>Now just where in the hell is Mr. Kelly going to flee to? Mexico? Is he going to drive down to Argentina? How about you just take his passport and let him go. George Kelly ain't going anywhere. He has no rap sheet or prior arrests that anyone knows of. </p><p>His crime was reporting a dead man on his ranch. He would have been better off just burying the body.</p><p>The American shitshow rolls on. We'll know more on the 22nd when the prosecution has to lay out a case. They better have one.</p><p>Here's a link to the story: <a href="https://lawandcrime.com/crime/innocent-arizona-rancher-files-full-throated-defense-after-mexican-national-shot-dead-on-property/">https://lawandcrime.com/crime/innocent-arizona-rancher-files-full-throated-defense-after-mexican-national-shot-dead-on-property/</a></p><p>Another one: <a href="https://www.azcentral.com/story/opinion/op-ed/philboas/2023/02/08/george-alan-kelly-arizona-border-could-become-political-powder-keg/69884911007/">https://www.azcentral.com/story/opinion/op-ed/philboas/2023/02/08/george-alan-kelly-arizona-border-could-become-political-powder-keg/69884911007/</a></p><p>Here's a link to Mr. Kelly's GiveSendGo account. I donated. <a href="https://www.givesendgo.com/G9T79">https://www.givesendgo.com/G9T79</a></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-54308792087372275802023-02-12T13:15:00.026-07:002023-02-16T08:55:18.828-07:00Probably Homicide, The Edward Morrissey Story, Epilogue<div>I have been back to Butte more times than I can count. I have visited the Granite Mountain Memorial and gazed to the southeast where the Granite Mountain/Speculator headframes used to stand. I have scoured Walkerville and the Alice Mine area- now overgrown with weeds. I have stood in front of the boardinghouse where Frank Little was kidnapped. It is gone, replaced with some hideous motel. I have been in the Hennessey Building as a child but never up on the Company's top floor. I have stood in the entryway where Jere Murphy was killed, and I've been in the ballroom at the Finlen Hotel where Murphy and other armed men were seen discussing something about 12 hours before Frank was murdered.</div><div><br /></div><div>And no matter what I do or what I read, I simply can't escape Edward Morrissey. What a piece of work. Violent, mean, ill tempered, and drunk. How does a guy like that become Chief of Detectives?</div><div><br /></div><div>He was in that position because that is where Jere Murphy wanted him to be. Two Irish born sons. The solid and stoic Chief, protecting this maniac.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right after Frank Little was killed, Morrissey who spent every night in the Crown Bar, could be heard mumbling about killing someone. A couple of years later, Morrissey's wife was found dead in her home. I read the autopsy. They assembled 5 doctors to perform that autopsy because everyone assumed Morrissey had killed his wife and Jere apparently wanted to avoid some more bad press. The doctors unanimously agreed she had died as a result of intoxication and falling down the stairs. I don't even believe that anymore- and I read the report page for page in the archives. It seems compelling but there is a part of me that says to keep Morrissey silent about the Little murder- you better not let him get squeezed for his wife's killing. He might come clean. There was plenty of motive to protect Morrissey from any further interrogations.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mrs. Morrissey's death was only a couple of years after Frank Little's death.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe that the Frank Little hit squad was comprised mostly of cops. Morrissey was the ringleader. I think the Prlja brothers(police)...here...<a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/27236693/peter-j-prlja">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/27236693/peter-j-prlja</a> and here... <a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/68423420/phillip-prlja">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/68423420/phillip-prlja</a> </div><div><br /></div><div>Phillip actually shot a couple guys in the leg over the course of his career. He was the brother who was murdered on Park and Main- by one of those guys he shot.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxnUrDmmEY55rQ757idj40AenhBgLBSIz_0S_bjmUvUsfA2lnSQPeJWezbXZ8HJMfetTV0PkCEGrhbsq08KQnXFNnUuJqfn7jFxovTaib6lvqFTDLTTWfUMAfkPH7HdFPYij8F-iilSsfUJ5X2PpayBeRI9o8aF82x_qU8lMRZ00_WPtthymu3LeG/s700/phillip%20prlja.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="700" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxnUrDmmEY55rQ757idj40AenhBgLBSIz_0S_bjmUvUsfA2lnSQPeJWezbXZ8HJMfetTV0PkCEGrhbsq08KQnXFNnUuJqfn7jFxovTaib6lvqFTDLTTWfUMAfkPH7HdFPYij8F-iilSsfUJ5X2PpayBeRI9o8aF82x_qU8lMRZ00_WPtthymu3LeG/s320/phillip%20prlja.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9F520A0OQSXvpAkUym-hYYi7U7OytNKI876WID5gwjiCQrnBNEc1o_5HjY44HBXcx6Rn-RPBVB1RQT-WLdiC23MSl9keRodfTtf04EpwLovx3C8ubraU7Nvii_MDvXLQ_F9_VD93O1mDWdgOgC1sMvn_MbUNb8-5ErbuOwHeXwe1J-3KINNWVHGQ/s967/killer.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="546" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9F520A0OQSXvpAkUym-hYYi7U7OytNKI876WID5gwjiCQrnBNEc1o_5HjY44HBXcx6Rn-RPBVB1RQT-WLdiC23MSl9keRodfTtf04EpwLovx3C8ubraU7Nvii_MDvXLQ_F9_VD93O1mDWdgOgC1sMvn_MbUNb8-5ErbuOwHeXwe1J-3KINNWVHGQ/s320/killer.jpeg" width="181" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Billy Oates gunman, JF Taylor or John Berkin rounded out the entry team. I think Alix Loiselle was the limo driver. (<a href="https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/233979880/alix-william-loiselle">https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/233979880/alix-william-loiselle</a>. Loiselle was also mentioned in the Nevada car accident that killed several occupants. I might have a couple wrong but I am willing to bet I have 4 out of 6 correct. There is no doubt in my mind that Jere Murphy and Lt Dwyer knew about everything that happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then there are the Company ringleaders. They guys that would have tabbed the police department contacts for the hit. Percy Rockefeller, John Ryan, DeGay Stivers, Roy Alley. L.O Evans, the attorney who made one last plea to Burton Wheeler to arrest Frank Little, the day before he was killed. It was the last three, Stivers, Alley, and Evans that would have been communicating directly with Morrissey and the goon squad. They would have protected Rockefeller and Ryan in the event they suffered blowback.</div><div><br /></div><div>All in all, we've got about 15 people who were most likely in on this. Many of them died violent deaths as a result of the violent things they did. </div><div><br /></div><div>In 2017, on the 100th year anniversary of the slaying, I was prepared to communicate my findings with Jane Little Botkin, grandniece and biographer of Frank Little. I was sure she would want to know who I thought had killed Frank Little. I have read Jane's book. I have used it many times, including the writing of this. So I must give credit here. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Frank-Little-IWW-Stained-American-ebook/dp/B071Z946FD/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2WHILFA98A8A6&keywords=frank+little+and+the+iww&qid=1676235451&sprefix=frank+little%2Caps%2C398&sr=8-1">https://www.amazon.com/Frank-Little-IWW-Stained-American</a></div><div><br /></div><div>Jane didn't react the way that I thought she would. Through some blend of her intelligently recognizing that we would never know for sure who was responsible for what, she saw a larger picture. A picture where Frank Little stood against all of the wicked power that opposed him, unwavering and courageous, and died doing what he did best. Organizing workers by utilizing the rights guaranteed to all people in the First Amendment.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get that now.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Prlja brothers were both killed. Phillip, the sergeant was killed at Park and Main St., shot in the head by a man he shot in the butt. I have always wondered on which corner that happened. The "all knowing" Jere Murphy was killed during a struggle on a marble floor many years later in the Montana Power building. News accounts never named his killer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Edward Morrissey got drunk one last time in the Crown Bar. Sources said he was in another bar fight. He staggered home, just a block or two away. His body was found 10 days later in his home on Idaho Street. He was frozen stiff. Originally, they thought he had suffered a heart attack. When his body thawed out, they realized he had some very serious wounds and blunt force trauma to the head. Like Frank Little had. Sometimes the world just drips with irony.</div><div><br /></div><div>The coroner listed his death as "probably homicide."</div><div><br /></div><div>Nobody investigated. No one was ever held accountable for his death.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRvLH0ZfcbcrgIhgxSDCsDP20ZIQuMQAxULPlEXnJoxxWM-VZTCkeawCK-RNbuMZHA2lMh2kZV6quLeJr4W5qs0Iki7oS1iW_lwjx-w6XQ9UDljpZclRkfl6sKcUIaJBjeNUxwwJ6zwcQIGXmFDwCtyJ6K6QtErHEl5arhzxDg0d7nZntHg62JHgA/s716/column%20inch.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="351" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRvLH0ZfcbcrgIhgxSDCsDP20ZIQuMQAxULPlEXnJoxxWM-VZTCkeawCK-RNbuMZHA2lMh2kZV6quLeJr4W5qs0Iki7oS1iW_lwjx-w6XQ9UDljpZclRkfl6sKcUIaJBjeNUxwwJ6zwcQIGXmFDwCtyJ6K6QtErHEl5arhzxDg0d7nZntHg62JHgA/w276-h320/column%20inch.jpeg" width="276" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiINp3eJE60LlZAyZKXZledtxVEnhGMsp5Rqj41eFcoazKXQgGZQCCqWu5LA2ty5fU8O3tUy7EnCkVHDsTGklGK08Y8ryG6e33szfBPu4kP6c3dQhNpNSYirl5HwgjLCsmR_bDRhEelzXuoT_0w6EOKI4h78ll5c60HMsBf3USjki91EWxyVZa6Sd7/s686/death%20cert.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="686" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiINp3eJE60LlZAyZKXZledtxVEnhGMsp5Rqj41eFcoazKXQgGZQCCqWu5LA2ty5fU8O3tUy7EnCkVHDsTGklGK08Y8ryG6e33szfBPu4kP6c3dQhNpNSYirl5HwgjLCsmR_bDRhEelzXuoT_0w6EOKI4h78ll5c60HMsBf3USjki91EWxyVZa6Sd7/w399-h392/death%20cert.jpeg" width="399" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz0U-tdCLaJ1hsM0HRINjDTAYeyFG7BTG9DBzcfDehF5zDMgmkQGuxV_r_vpEHGFMdJ4PV2_WqPRWTFSY9WhrLabzBkxUdTMm-51u2OGwrv1dbkmEkxbtENXgVb3np2N_EGZKWe8MZJBX-E8k2jZQjN9xVbYr787xAy576oH6VuQIL8OyjKa2M295/s351/tombstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="250" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz0U-tdCLaJ1hsM0HRINjDTAYeyFG7BTG9DBzcfDehF5zDMgmkQGuxV_r_vpEHGFMdJ4PV2_WqPRWTFSY9WhrLabzBkxUdTMm-51u2OGwrv1dbkmEkxbtENXgVb3np2N_EGZKWe8MZJBX-E8k2jZQjN9xVbYr787xAy576oH6VuQIL8OyjKa2M295/w402-h387/tombstone.jpg" width="402" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The 1985 Jon Axline thesis detailing Butte police corruption with the Anaconda Company.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://scholarworks.montana.edu/xmlui/bitstream/handle/1/4000/31762001900503.pdf?sequence=1">31762001900503.pdf (montana.edu)</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-9231124469688695832023-02-12T11:51:00.007-07:002023-02-13T14:22:54.621-07:00Probably Homicide, The Edward Morrissey Story, Part 3<p> I have been furiously writing for 3 days now. A friend asked me to post a podcast link which I gave her and now I will post that link here. This podcast is 10 episodes long and it is focused on all of the characters in the Frank Little murder. <a href="https://deathinthewestpod.com/">https://deathinthewestpod.com/</a></p><p>After listening to this a bit, you can see how easy it is to become distracted by all of the theories, the allegations, the false leads, conjecture, and gossip. I call this white noise. I first encountered these distractions while reading newspaper accounts wherein newspapers actually named suspects as though they had direct access to the best witnesses and knew for a fact- who the bad guys were. Today they would be sued for defamation.</p><p>The biographer of Frank Little, is Frank Little's great grandniece, Jane Botkin Little. In addition to being a fantastic writer and researcher, Jane probably knows more about Frank Little than anyone on the planet. In 2016, Jane and I had mutual friends in Butte that introduced her to me and told me that she would be in Butte the following year. Jane they told me, would be in town for the 100th anniversary of Frank Little's murder. I could not wait to meet her. I was not disappointed. I went to a book reading of Jane's. We attended a graveside service at Frank's grave on August 1 where the UWW or Wobblies read and sang a bit.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBklKuxJ83yqPZJBmzx6nFAonY6hzmNzvpSSXf9m1jzeZBjwzieW8Ybs8_8ELotqCLCw_jKXjvc8R2lV4_-mr_phv6DjfccZ8Jwpe813cZPA4lb5GV1ef-GFlROC9zPJIn5vzPAJXsN42DF4zUUXumXyhJLXkeOPewJuucQA1JKHw-F72ksgDtwEr_/s1924/franks%20book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1924" data-original-width="1320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBklKuxJ83yqPZJBmzx6nFAonY6hzmNzvpSSXf9m1jzeZBjwzieW8Ybs8_8ELotqCLCw_jKXjvc8R2lV4_-mr_phv6DjfccZ8Jwpe813cZPA4lb5GV1ef-GFlROC9zPJIn5vzPAJXsN42DF4zUUXumXyhJLXkeOPewJuucQA1JKHw-F72ksgDtwEr_/s320/franks%20book.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><br /><p>While talking to Jane in 2017, I realized something I had never considered. Jane wasn't really interested in identifying Frank's killers. This gave me great pause and baffled me a bit. Her explanation for that can be found in the opening lines of podcast number 10. It is perfectly rational. </p><p>I am in podcast number 8 at the 32-minute mark. I had been somewhat reluctant to turn over all of the evidence that I had found. Of course, it is all circumstantial, but it was the body of all my work. Eventually, I emailed the podcast about the car. I found the car that was used in the kidnapping to be quite fascinating, all by itself. The podcast investigators turned that stone for me and we struck gold.</p><p>I would like to say that I am no Columbo. I am not the best detective. All I came to this party with is a morbid fascination with the crime from the moment I stood on that black and white floor where Jere Murphy was killed. What I do have is police insight. I would like to use that here.</p><p>Today, I am confident that Frank Little's murder would have been solved in 48 hours or less by honest cops that weren't involved in the killing. There always was an overwhelming amount of evidentiary leads to sift through even back in 1917. </p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Searching for the Best Evidence</b></p><p>Montana began registering automobiles around 1912. Two witnesses across the street from the boarding house that night identified the suspect's car as a late model, black Cadillac. The suspects wore costume masks. The driver stayed with the car which remained running. How many Cadillacs were registered in Butte at that time? The old records were stored in Deer Lodge. </p><p>The podcast folks uncovered 100 of them. Most importantly, a total of 5 of them were registered to either the Anaconda Company, the Company's head of security, Degay Stivers and Roy Alley. The last Cadillac was registered to Alex Wazell. Alex was a limo driver by trade. These 3 "persons of interest" were all included in my suspect pool.</p><p>L.O. Evans was a company attorney who met with Montana Attorney General, Burton K Wheeler. That face to face meeting occurred less than 24 hours before Frank Little was killed. In that meeting at the Anaconda Company Office in the Hennessey Building, Evans implored Wheeler to arrest Frank Little. Wheeler told Evans that Little had not broken the law and that he would not seek Little's arrest.</p><p>Also on the day of the murder, armed men including Jere Murphy were seen at a meeting in the Finlen Hotel. The Finlen Hotel was located 1 block south from Frank Little's boarding house at Broadway and Wyoming St.</p><p>We have two other huge leads to pursue. Norah Byrne saw 5 men with costume masks on. One fitting the description of Morrissey brandishing a police revolver. Morrissey was either serving a suspension from the Butte Police Department and had taken several weeks off just after the murder. No statement was ever taken from Morrissey who was in all likelihood, working for the Company.</p><p>Lastly, where do you buy 6 costume masks? How come nobody in the Butte Police Department ever contacted area merchants to find out whether 6 masks had recently been purchased? July in Butte is not exactly the heart of masquerade season.</p><p>I needed to see the work that had been done by Butte PD. I put in a call to the Silver Bow Sheriff who now polices Butte. He never returned the call.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>The Coroner's Inquest/Jury</b></p><p>In the days after the murder, some 17 witnesses were called to a Coroner's Jury or Magistrate's Inquiry. I am not sure of the exact term in Montana. But the purpose is the same. The collection of eyewitness testimony and evidence.</p><p>This particular proceeding included three jurors who evaluated the evidence. Unbelievable as it may seem, one of the jurors was a Butte detective who worked with Edward Morrissey. He was sitting in on the proceedings. His name was Lt. Dwyer. </p><p>Suddenly all of the witnesses called in this case developed amnesia. One by one, the evidence they had given to police initially before any of them suspected the police, suddenly became murky and forgotten. They could not remember details.</p><p>Not only was Dwyer seated on that jury, but I believe he showed up at the boardinghouse and later at the hanging scene. He is listed in the Butte archives which has a cover sheet of witnesses and jurors that served on that jury. He would have worked directly under Edward Morrissey.</p><p>It was an accident that I uncovered him at all. Butte police had their hands into everything Frank Little.</p><p>The transcript of the proceedings went missing from the courthouse. They were transcribed by hand.</p><p>It should be interesting to note, that when I started policing in the early 80s, we had keys to virtually every business and school. We had keys to the courthouse, and we had the codes to disable the alarms. It's not a stretch of the imagination by any means, that the police may have accessed the courthouse days after the proceedings, stole the transcript, and destroyed it.</p><p>I had always wondered if the transcript might have been copied and given to Burton Wheeler in Helena. Wheeler demanded an investigation into this. Wouldn't it be funny to find the transcript in some old courthouse basement in Helena? Maybe in Burton Wheeler's things inherited by some grandchild of his.</p><p>I have always considered that transcript- the holy grail of this case. What I wouldn't give to read it.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>The Trestle, Body, Note, and Evidence Left at the Scene</b></p><p>I often wonder why Frank Little was killed the way that he was killed. We know the ringleader of the goon squad had a revolver. Why didn't they just shoot him?</p><p>There are two very good reasons for this. If you just shoot Frank Little, nothing really comes of it. No purpose is served. He's just another assassinated murder victim.</p><p>That's not what this crew was after. They wanted a public display. They wanted to kill Frank Little in the most tortured, painful, public way possible. They wanted to stop union organizing, they wanted to put an end to strike meetings, and they wanted to let people know that they might be next.</p><p>So why not just hang him? Why drag his body over the rough hewn granite streets? Why beat him in the head? </p><p>To me, this suggests that this murder was personal. They hated Little. They wanted to inflict as much cruelty and pain as they possibly could. Frank Little caused fights, arguments, swollen crowds of angry miners, he threatened anyone who owned stock in the Company. The Butte Police were already proven to be Company stooges in a revolving Company, Butte Police, Company revolving door. They saw Frank as a criminal, largely responsible for the riots, fights, and arrest reports they must have had to do. They saw Frank as a seditious outlaw and traitor. In fact, I think that some of them believed killing Frank was the right thing to do. </p><p>There was so much evidence. There were tire tracks and footprints. The rope and the knots. Bloody clothing. The cast on Frank's leg had been tore off and was laying on the ground.</p><p>But the biggest piece of evidence, without a doubt, was the note pinned on Frank's leg. </p><p>In 1917, collecting and evaluating forensic evidence was in it's infancy. Photography was also. Cops could sketch or cast footprints and tire tracks. That was a huge deal all by itself. Quite possibly, had the cops began looking at all the tires on black Cadillacs- they would probably have found a match. </p><p>Shoes might have helped identify a driver or someone at the scene.</p><p>But the handwriting on that note is unique and bizarre. The reference to the Vigilantes was a huge deal. Did these guys really think they had to take the law into their own hands just as the Vigilantes had some 50 years earlier? Perhaps. With no other way to stop Frank, and the Montana Attorney General refusing to prosecute him, they were forced to use the last resort. </p><p>It is a ridiculous idea that Frank was on some par with the likes of robber and road agent, Henry Plummer and his gang. But Frank's killers chose to kill him in similar fashion complete with advance warning notices.</p><p>A couple of years later I stumbled onto another connection. The Montana Vigilantes had their roots in Virginia City and Bannack. That was where Henry Plummer did most of his dirty work. There was a subsequent faction of Vigilantes working in Helena. Both venues are only 60-70 miles away. One of the mine superintendents in Butte was a man named John Berkin. Berkin's father was one of the pioneers of the state of Montana and he had been involved to some extent with the Vigilantes. John Berkin of Butte had connections with many of the police officers and was very active in a local gun club that many of them frequented.</p><p>Was Berkin involved in the killing? I don't know. But the Berkin connection is a very interesting one and might have been where Frank's killers got the idea of using Vigilante justice. Perhaps they developed it on their own. It's a rabbit hole I have never fully explored but I do believe there is a connection.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Summary</b></p><p>There was a tremendous amount of evidence and investigatory leads available to the Butte Police Department that were never followed or acted upon.</p><p>You simply can't escape it. It is what they didn't do that screams out to me.</p><p>This is a police department, clearly corrupted and compromised by the Anaconda Company, from the top clear on down to the patrolmen. </p><p>The officers in any police department do not operate in an isolated vacuum. Most police officers are fully aware of everything taking place within the department. Cops gossip. That's what they do. To survive in that sort of compromised environment means you either join them, shut up, or leave. </p><p>Jere Murphy became the Chief of Police and stayed the Chief of Police because he knew where the power was. It was the Company. If you wanted to continue to be the Chief of Police then you were going to have to do what the Company wanted you to do. Jere chose his side. I believe Murphy's presence in the Finlen Hotel, three hundred feet from Frank's boardinghouse on the same day/night that he was murdered, speaks volumes.</p><p>Epilogue to follow.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p> </p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-25624977600803320512023-02-11T01:07:00.009-07:002023-02-13T14:15:07.123-07:00Probably Homicide, The Edward Morrissey Story, Part 2<p> One of the hardest parts of solving a 99-year-old murder is trying to stay focused. The murder of Frank Little wasn't a robbery. It wasn't an angry husband or spouse. It was a very deliberate killing. It was meant to send a message. Let this be a message to anyone who comes to Butte and talks about mineworker's rights and strikes. You are going to be killed just like Frank was. So, a thorough examination of Frank Little was where I started back in 2016.</p><p>I knew the history. I knew that Frank was a union organizer. I knew that his employer sent him from a mine in Bisbee, Az to Butte. I knew that the United Workers of the World or the Wobblies, were commonly viewed as socialists although I think that is inaccurate. I couldn't grasp the threat level. What did Frank do that was so bad that persons unknown would kidnap him in the middle of the night and brutally murder him?</p><p>This is where we need context. We need to paint that picture to fully understand why Frank Little was murdered. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>The Miners</b></p><p>People from all over the world came to America. They came for freedom. They came for opportunity. There was no greater example of this than Butte, Montana. The miners came from everywhere but mostly, eastern and western Europe and Scandinavia. Most were uneducated in the formal sense. Many could not speak English. But the Irish could. The Irish, of all the nationalities in Butte, were vastly overrepresented. This was due mostly to the efforts of the great copper king and Irish immigrant, Marcus Daly. Marcus Daly came to Butte, bought the Alice mine property in Walkerville, and discovered copper in it. The ore body was enormous. Daly sold the Alice and moved his operations to the absolute center of the ore body. The Anaconda mine on the Anaconda Road. Underground mining required huge amounts of physical labor. Soon there were claims and mines all over the hill. Hundreds of them.</p><p>Thousands upon thousands of miners came to Butte looking for the American dream. They slapped tiny little houses together all over the hill and walked to work at the mines. They worked 12-hour days, 6 days a week. It was horrible, dangerous work, with little oxygen a mile underground. Safety concerns were routinely ignored. Miners died by the hundreds and soon, by the thousands. They died in cave-ins, accidents, and falls. They died in fires. They died of black lung. Butte cemeteries are vast.</p><p>So miners had to fight. They had to fight for safety. They had to fight for reduced hours and increasing wages. They shared great adversity and they fought back. They fought the Company with unions. They fought with strikes. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="363" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oW1Dvwo2-_Q" width="513" youtube-src-id="oW1Dvwo2-_Q"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>By the time the Copper Kings sold out, the miners found themselves with a whole new adversary. The Anaconda Company was vicious and ruthless. They were capitalists and robber barons of the first order. Killing miners simply meant hiring new ones. If Marcus Daly was loved, the Anaconda Company was feared and hated.</p><p>By the time World War I had started in 1914, Butte miners were up in arms. Not only were they angry with the Company over a litany of issues but they detested the war in Europe. The Irish had fled Ireland to escape British rule. Many immigrants had fled for similar issues. They weren't about to support a war among countries they disliked and cared little about. Many were angry when the United States chose to enter the war in March of 1917. The miners were already pissed.</p><p>And then something really bad happened.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>The Granite Mountain/Speculator Mine Disaster</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw8v3Cw6Vgg5n0iZajbMYlwK6FDgFZB8TwUT691k93CpWiS2s2Vtnv-aTjATUlsE9BzlWhepKmcbHQhin6oaz-ce3AwuupDEBn_MqjDyxxi9gvUKdSyPc-5okNjxbAeEBAdEV5rsK02u8z7K-wnLGeb2Zk8LxyXGR5JBtnYe5Ud9iTzxc1CGlTmB0U/s538/miners.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="538" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw8v3Cw6Vgg5n0iZajbMYlwK6FDgFZB8TwUT691k93CpWiS2s2Vtnv-aTjATUlsE9BzlWhepKmcbHQhin6oaz-ce3AwuupDEBn_MqjDyxxi9gvUKdSyPc-5okNjxbAeEBAdEV5rsK02u8z7K-wnLGeb2Zk8LxyXGR5JBtnYe5Ud9iTzxc1CGlTmB0U/w455-h317/miners.webp" width="455" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p>On Jun 8th, 1917, a fire broke out in the Granite Mountain Mine after a cable had been dropped in the shaft. Workers were sent to retrieve the cable some 2500 feet underground. The cable was encased in flammable grease and when they found it, it was all tangled up. As Ernest Sullau attempted to wrestle the damaged cable free, his carbide lamp lit the cable grease which touched the timbers in the mine. </p><p>The Granite Mountain mine was connected to the Speculator Mine. Their shafts were parallel to each other. Both mine shafts began filling with smoke. Miners were quite literally choking to death, scrambling for clean air in various tunnels, and building bulkheads in dead end drifts. They could not get out.</p><p>Horns sounded all over the hill. The citizens of Butte knew something horrible had happened. By the time it was all over, 168 miners had been killed in the worst hard rock mining disaster the world had ever known.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VAbeKulkk25HI2cHPWEOeQvcBYKTqf3TIpKPxuLYg60FusnMSmuq6lKa8yY8ESUhBIXLxZH5H-2DfXzLKZeqNOnkuujLyItNNgRYoU0GQ6tfxSR63sznvFBZQlAyR3nylfoUZJBOWvH6RHOb5WmWZ0SNpF4CyscfJnyUdwiRhTUguIwCY13k-v5T/s1200/spec2.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="1200" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VAbeKulkk25HI2cHPWEOeQvcBYKTqf3TIpKPxuLYg60FusnMSmuq6lKa8yY8ESUhBIXLxZH5H-2DfXzLKZeqNOnkuujLyItNNgRYoU0GQ6tfxSR63sznvFBZQlAyR3nylfoUZJBOWvH6RHOb5WmWZ0SNpF4CyscfJnyUdwiRhTUguIwCY13k-v5T/w488-h335/spec2.webp" width="488" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>If killing 168 miners at once were not bad enough, the Company bore no responsibility. They didn't help with the cost of funerals. They didn't reach out to widows and children. They offered no financial support to the families that found themselves without husbands and fathers, without money or support, without groceries and rent. This while the Anaconda Company made a million dollars a day.</p><p>It was a callous, horrible response. Butte miners had become combustible. Into this sweeping anger and hatred for the Company, amidst union fights and strikes, all hell was breaking loose. Frank Little, labor organizer for the Industrial Workers of the World, was about to step into purgatory. It was July 12th, 1917. Frank Little was about to take his eternal walk. He had less than 3 weeks to live.</p><p>(I have read two fantastic books on the Granite Mountain/Speculator disaster. The latest is called "A Darkness Lit By Heroes." It is a fantastic body of work, very well written. I could not put it down. The other book is called Fire and Brimstone, also very good)</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZu88Wx1ruLR8LdVUHpkSaFuzeD42oX6HPnKSe8LQ3eiiPZVMn-aINqWIZJJw0ryxhkxQITLsB0no8MbkKuqyyXdtmqm1kGwlhtqKxZgyW-npjUBLC00L6fnAvxiRSE_C2cTibLos_jdEJHmtJAwY2SyffYwhhbOpIlQmXNW0T4x-7DvaW1ahY6-zS/s1889/darkness%20lit%20by%20heroes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1889" data-original-width="1134" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZu88Wx1ruLR8LdVUHpkSaFuzeD42oX6HPnKSe8LQ3eiiPZVMn-aINqWIZJJw0ryxhkxQITLsB0no8MbkKuqyyXdtmqm1kGwlhtqKxZgyW-npjUBLC00L6fnAvxiRSE_C2cTibLos_jdEJHmtJAwY2SyffYwhhbOpIlQmXNW0T4x-7DvaW1ahY6-zS/s320/darkness%20lit%20by%20heroes.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><b>Frank Little</b></p><p>In the summer of 2016, I wanted to capture the emotions that Frank Little would encounter when he stepped off that train in July, some 99 years ago. Clearly that would be impossible, but I had to understand the context that existed back then. What kind of charged atmosphere leads to such a cruel and desperate act? </p><p>The Butte papers painted that picture for me. They had the microfiche and the readers in the Butte Library and I am grateful for that. I spent a few days in the library reading old newspapers and a few days up in the Butte Archives. </p><p>It is worth remembering that virtually all newspapers were owned by the Anaconda Company at the time except for William Dunn's, "Strike Bulletin." Therefore, you are reading somewhat filtered propaganda, just the way the Company wanted you to read it. I was highly dismissive of the suspect names and theories they espoused. Completely untrustworthy and meant to confuse readers.</p><p>This is what I can tell you about Frank Little. He arrived in Butte with a broken leg. He rented a room in a boarding house on N Wyoming, just south of the Anaconda Road. He gave passionate speeches to the miners. He did this every day and hobbled home. He was gaining serious traction among the miners, most of whom were all doing a slow burn over the way the Company was treating them. They hated the war. Frank hated the war too. </p><p>The Company goons tried to paint Frank Little as a communist sympathizer. They tried to chip away at the credibility he was gaining. And they were losing.</p><p>The more Frank spoke, the more the miners liked him. People began to worry about Frank. A local barber, Con Lowney, warned Frank that he was going to be killed. Frank shrugged it off. He had heard this all before.</p><p>It was about 3 a.m. on the morning of August 1, that a black Cadillac chugged up the steep grade of Wyoming Street. It had seating for six people. The car stopped in front of Frank's boarding house. Five men in masks went into the boarding house, one stayed with the car. After kicking one door open, they were confronted by the boarding house owner and her son. They demanded to know where Frank Little was sleeping. They said they had a warrant for him. The man doing all the talking was short and stocky. He was waving a police revolver. They rousted Frank Little, beat him up and dragged him out of the boarding house and into the waiting car. The seven of them proceeded up the hill to the intersection of the Anaconda Road, about 300 feet away. They tied Frank to the back bumper with a length of rope. They dragged him away.</p><p>This was witnessed by two men standing outside O'Briens Bar across the street from the boarding house. O'Briens is long gone. </p><p>Frank Little was found about 3 hours later. He had been hanged from a train trestle west of Montana Street, a little over a mile away. He had a cryptic note attached to his body with a numeric reference attributed to the Montana Vigilantes. His body was discovered by a man walking to work. </p><p>Frank's body was taken down. His kneecaps had been nearly scraped off as he was being dragged through the streets. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Q6I9Qp-vFBFrk036zfNmdVkR4DBEmlAktpTi8fyBNQOd9almX24xGitA4hzpdoMFMwdXkh16Es36oXVk6bnCbQvYa3pMRhdZiZExecoBs3GEnN1jhkNA0Ip-bngN5v1JugMrKvIK20NAW91Ay9GEL8O9jN3XMTUCJqDysKpzKhAef138Go_GXklU/s1240/autopsy.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="1240" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Q6I9Qp-vFBFrk036zfNmdVkR4DBEmlAktpTi8fyBNQOd9almX24xGitA4hzpdoMFMwdXkh16Es36oXVk6bnCbQvYa3pMRhdZiZExecoBs3GEnN1jhkNA0Ip-bngN5v1JugMrKvIK20NAW91Ay9GEL8O9jN3XMTUCJqDysKpzKhAef138Go_GXklU/w320-h252/autopsy.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Norah Byrne, the owner of the boarding house, did not immediately report the crime believing the men to be police officers. It was only after discussing the masks they wore (with her son) that she decided to report the incident to police. As it turns out, in the days and weeks that followed, the Butte cops didn't seem too concerned about it.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5jloemWzaddev-R2riI5MY3r40eXJ7w_zcXR9lgX3LKwr4DBelpiV3nvxy14MHo-jQAQkUDsNH9DUeeKvAs-fg2hZA33XIXpjID7_RiEMeg8r-4rL8-H9bMk_b3iLz-AOXgBRVFo6NVYxtvhi1hQmcEj2XdGWCqZ5CIkp3ZW-lorKqEtkBNjOHGVI/s350/little%20note.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="350" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5jloemWzaddev-R2riI5MY3r40eXJ7w_zcXR9lgX3LKwr4DBelpiV3nvxy14MHo-jQAQkUDsNH9DUeeKvAs-fg2hZA33XIXpjID7_RiEMeg8r-4rL8-H9bMk_b3iLz-AOXgBRVFo6NVYxtvhi1hQmcEj2XdGWCqZ5CIkp3ZW-lorKqEtkBNjOHGVI/w389-h399/little%20note.jpg" width="389" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>This was the note found on Little's body. The reference to 3-7-77 is a number the Montana Vigilantes used. The Montana Highway Patrol have those numbers on their patch. The exact meaning of those numbers has been debated over the years. I was not that concerned about what the numbers meant. What was important to me was why they were used. There had to be a connection and there was. I stumbled onto it years later. The bottom line on the note represents the last initials of other union organizers. The "L" for Little has been circled. Next up, "D" for William Dunn.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJYeZiKOXl55NPjKi3OCZWBE_3xKr-iWBstXhaYOkMGFTsiAeU2oVdcUPPFKVQYRB0ZSRncxLhVVK1ZzTqmp7VTFR6gq41vGvy8_7mijVZ79WWLHK0WvUKS35_ZtjvQpkW-mMine4fCuDH08twCWCS5DL2GmPnyOHURIyet1HToxxQtcg33rg3_R1/s1240/funeral%20pro.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="1240" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJYeZiKOXl55NPjKi3OCZWBE_3xKr-iWBstXhaYOkMGFTsiAeU2oVdcUPPFKVQYRB0ZSRncxLhVVK1ZzTqmp7VTFR6gq41vGvy8_7mijVZ79WWLHK0WvUKS35_ZtjvQpkW-mMine4fCuDH08twCWCS5DL2GmPnyOHURIyet1HToxxQtcg33rg3_R1/w428-h302/funeral%20pro.webp" width="428" /></a></div><br /><p>Little's funeral was the biggest in Montana history. Some say there were 7,000 people in attendance.</p><p>The grave is several miles away. Note the street surface. Granite Street.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsp19IWuKo4tG4zQuJMuIxfYcVduzJRgK3qVwlnXyOAZCvKrYUdh6OcNc0KSSUB-UZFUfMYqUbsk9UJUJ_dglmxv03BHntCpt3TBJ3WP4l-zs5iE01KimVy2wtOfcWgExIWK3s28WhT0INCr2DPFY23tbMMQjsvHKZ5hTiCfLHulgoT7A9GTGOSdZN/s1240/little%20grave.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="1240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsp19IWuKo4tG4zQuJMuIxfYcVduzJRgK3qVwlnXyOAZCvKrYUdh6OcNc0KSSUB-UZFUfMYqUbsk9UJUJ_dglmxv03BHntCpt3TBJ3WP4l-zs5iE01KimVy2wtOfcWgExIWK3s28WhT0INCr2DPFY23tbMMQjsvHKZ5hTiCfLHulgoT7A9GTGOSdZN/w447-h320/little%20grave.webp" width="447" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Frank Little was killed because he threatened the Anaconda Company. They were making a million dollars a day. Frank Little was gaining traction and credibility with miners. The Company had already weathered the Granite Mountain disaster, they had weathered a partial strike which was continuing, and they certainly weren't going to tolerate a full scale, citywide strike instigated by Little. You couldn't reason with or intimidate Frank. He wasn't going to stop. So the only thing you could do was kill him and use his death to intimidate anyone else thinking of stepping up and taking his place. </p><p>It became pretty clear to me that the Company had him killed. They had tremendous motive. So if you wanted someone killed, who would order that and who would carry it out? </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-58280896603222676742023-02-10T13:21:00.015-07:002024-02-14T01:56:59.800-07:00Probably Homicide, The Edward Morrissey Story, Part 1<p>This is the story of three murders. None of these murders were really solved although it would have been rather easy. Instead, with a healthy dose of indifference, they were all lost to time.</p><p>It is a fascinating story on so many levels. It is a story worth dredging up.</p><p>I was 8 years old when we arrived in Butte, Montana. It was the summer of 1969. Coming from a little sleepy farming town on flat earth in eastern Montana, Butte looked absolutely cosmopolitan. There were storefronts of almost every variety. Famous stores like Hennessey's. Bakeries like Gamer's and Town Talk. Bars and taverns were everywhere. The Board of Trade, M and M, the Terminal Bar. People were out and about, walking everywhere at all hours of the day and night. It was a two-block stroll from the bars on Park St to the whorehouses on Mercury St. Butte miners did a lot of strolling. The booze poured 24 hours a day. Gambling, which was allegedly illegal in Montana, was done out in the open in Butte bars. I watched poker games and even punched a few punchboards as a child. Law enforcement was nowhere to be found. This was all part of the tapestry. It was by design.</p><p>The Anaconda Company owned everything. They owned the hill, all the mines, the railways and smelter, they owned virtually every Montana newspaper, they owned the politicians, they owned the judges, they owned the Butte cops, and they even owned the miners. In the old days, the Company used "rustling cards" to identify union sympathizers and to prevent them from being employed.</p><p>Two other items of note before we move on. </p><p>Virtually all of the newspapers in Montana were owned by the Anaconda Copper Company. This monopolistic effect had a huge impact on everything. People obtained their news through only one source. There was no other way of influencing people. No radio, no television, no cellphones, no computers. No public discourse. In 1917, you were fed the propaganda that the Company and Percy Rockefeller wanted you to hear. The Company, which we called it, ruled everything. If you didn't carry their water, they'd crush you. </p><p>The antagonist in this story were the unions. The only way to fight the Company was to unionize. The Company hated the unions. They even planted spies amongst the union members at union halls and meetings to identify the biggest antagonists. It was the Company v the miners. It was an epic David v Goliath story only David wasn't going to win this battle.</p><p>Thus, the story of Edward Morrissey begins here. The year is 1917. World War One has begun. Copper is in huge demand. The price had never been higher. The Company was virtually in control of world copper supply with a huge, dominant share of the market.</p><p>The Company exploited miners. Miner's unions were largely responsible for reducing a workday from 12 hours to 8. Mining was all done underground in 1917. The Company is making one million dollars a day which is an absolutely unheard of amount of money in those days. While the Company and it's officers are becoming obscenely rich, they are also attempting to cut the wages of thousands of miners from 3.50 a day to 3.00. It is a powder keg waiting to explode.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Edward Morrissey</b></p><p>Edward Morrissey was born in Ireland on Christmas Day, 1874. He immigrated to America. It is known that Edward Morrissey fought for America in the Spanish American War. It is also believed that he shot himself in the arm to escape the conflict. He was 24 in 1898. Like many Irish American immigrants, he landed in Butte at the turn of the century or slightly thereafter.</p><p>Morrissey went to work for the Company in the early 1900's. It is unknown where and what he did for the Company but it is very likely that during this time, he formed all of the contacts and business associates he needed to eventually become employed by the Butte Police Department. This probably occurred around 1907-1908. </p><p>Morrissey was a short, compact man. He was quick tempered and violent. He was also an alcoholic. By all accounts he was just a mean, angry man who enjoyed fighting. The accounts of Morrissey that I've read don't use the term "asshole", but I think you get the gist of it.</p><p>Morrissey was a fixture in the Crown Bar on West Park.</p><p>The Butte Police Chief was also an immigrant from Ireland. He had worked for Marcus Daly and the Company. Jeremiah Murphy, or "Jere the Wise" bounced back and forth amongst Butte Mayors but finally landed a permanent role as Chief in 1909. He enjoyed a strong reputation and was credible. It was probably Murphy's reputation and credibility that enabled Edward Morrissey not only to survive but to become Chief of Detectives for the Butte Police Department.</p><p>Murphy worked for the Butte Police Department for 40 years. He died in the line of duty while wrestling with a suspect in 1935. He fell and cracked his skull on a marble floor. I have stood on that floor. Like so many Butte stories, Jeremiah Murphy left more questions than answers. How good of friends were Murphy and Morrissey? Who was Murphy wrestling with in 1935? What happened to that guy? His name is never mentioned. He was charged with carrying a concealed weapon and sentenced to 30 days in jail according to the Montana Peace Officer Memorial. Still, why the mystery?</p><p>Here is a delightful link that will give you an idea of how fondly Butte thought of Murphy. You'd think Murphy was some sort of super hero with secret powers. Realistically, I think a lot of these column inches are pure nonsense. But in those days, you didn't speak ill of the dead. (please ignore the obvious mistakes in the title) <a href="http://mtgenweb.com/silverbow/jere_murphy.htm">http://mtgenweb.com/silverbow/jere_murphy.htm</a></p><p>These were the answers I was searching for in 2016. I had two weeks. I was back in Butte, my childhood home, to solve a murder. It had been 99 years since Frank Little was dragged behind a car, strung up on a train trestle west of town, and strangled. The killers left a cryptic note, a murderous warning, pinned to his body. </p><p>A lot of bizarre and horrible events happened in Butte during the summer of 1917. The death of Frank Little might have been the last of them. It was the outcome the Company needed. </p><p>This is a picture of N. Wyoming (316) and Norah Byrne's boardinghouse. Frank Little would be kidnapped and ultimately killed from here at 3 a.m., August 1, 1917. Across the street and just a little north is O'Briens Tavern. (two story brick, no longer standing) This is where two men watched the whole event. They were in a great position, less than 100 feet away. Their statements regarding the Cadillac, the number of men, the direction of travel, and dragging Frank Little away- were absolutely key to solving this crime. Thanks to Jane Little Botkin, back cover photo, Frank Little and the IWW.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0mKb3Halzk37s0obqE_OL8ZjjGeb7heOC31EtKSRQBvt4FVUd0kUO3yMMB_sRfHPLd1AekRU_9Y-289UBQNA0hTQ1b-iRG9Lp6W52jSCiT42BAKgiIKLUrvb4zQJa_qoWvAxJhQP9RMFcdl6Wf7CcSVLS9o5JGg1uZGntUOlmuiS0bGVJHleflaP/s1995/boardinghouse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1712" data-original-width="1995" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0mKb3Halzk37s0obqE_OL8ZjjGeb7heOC31EtKSRQBvt4FVUd0kUO3yMMB_sRfHPLd1AekRU_9Y-289UBQNA0hTQ1b-iRG9Lp6W52jSCiT42BAKgiIKLUrvb4zQJa_qoWvAxJhQP9RMFcdl6Wf7CcSVLS9o5JGg1uZGntUOlmuiS0bGVJHleflaP/w507-h372/boardinghouse.jpg" width="507" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-34409446919717904112023-02-02T01:13:00.011-07:002023-02-04T12:53:06.085-07:00Three More Great Gambling Stories<p> In October I published my first installment of great gambling stories. Today I am going to tell you about three more. </p><p>I have gambled for over 40 years, from Foxwoods near Mystic, Ct. to the Bicycle in Los Angeles. I have seen a lot of crazy things in my time. I am going to start with a bizarre story that didn't net us any money. I am including it here because it was so strange. It happened at the Desert Diamond in Tucson, Az.</p><p><b>Virtual Roulette</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p>My wife and I had been playing blackjack and we were waiting for seats in the poker room. We stumbled on to one of those video roulette wheels. You insert your money, the machine credits it, and about every 15 seconds some cartoonish, virtual dealer with big boobs spins the wheel. Just before she spins the roulette wheel, she says "No more bets." Then she puts the pea in the roulette rail and spins the wheel. The key to this story is that as the pea is spinning in the rail before it drops, it makes a noise. The wheel also makes a clackety noise as it spins. These simultaneous sounds last about 15 seconds.</p><p>I think we may have each put a twenty in this thing and we are just killing time. No sooner had we made a couple bets than this kid at the end of the game, calls the number out and then the pea lands in that number. He does this a couple times before I start paying attention. Spin after spin, this kid calls out what number the pea is going to land in before it leaves the rail and drops onto the wheel. So now I am more interested in how the hell he is able to do this, spin after spin. He is never wrong.</p><p>I cannot tell you how many hours and days this kid must have sat there- listening to the sounds of the wheel, memorizing them, and calling out the correct number every time. Somehow, he had memorized the sounds of all 36 numbers and also the 0 and 00. Unfortunately, because the game shut all bets off just before the spin- there was no way to capitalize on this. That made it even more weird. I simply could not imagine how anyone could memorize the slight auditory distinctions each spin of the wheel made and how long this kid had been obsessed with that. I also did not understand why. There was no profit potential. Autistic I suppose.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>The College Football Bet</b></p><p><br /></p><p>For many years, I played poker every weekend. Maybe 15 years. In the fall, on Saturdays, I never missed a weekend. I loved to bet college and pro football. I would bet the games, tune to the proper channels, and watch the game while we played poker in the poker room. Very often, a crew from Montana would show up on higher limit weekends when we would play 10-20 limit.</p><p>So there was this guy, Jim, from Deer Lodge, Mt. He and his friends from Deer Lodge and Anaconda would show up and play 10-20 limit Hold 'em. On this particular day, Jim decided to bet a college football game for 1500 bucks. The spread was -1.5 which meant Jim had to win by two points. (I made decent money back then and I always wondered where these guys found 1500 to piss off on a football game, my biggest bet is usually 500)</p><p>I wished I remembered who the two teams were who played that day but I don't. I do remember the score was 29-3 at the half. Jim's team was getting it's ass kicked so he quit watching the game and since 1500 is a lot of money, nobody teased him about it. One of the crazy aspects of this game is that the opposing team blocked a chip shot field goal and ran it back for a touchdown. They had missed two other extra points.</p><p>So when the game started after the half, I kept watching. Jim's team rallied. About the time they made 3 second half touchdowns, the score was 29-24. Everyone at the table was excited. Jim, who had written off the bet earlier, was glued to the television. Just as time expired, Jim's team scored a touchdown. The score was 30-29. We were all excited, slapping Jim on the back- whooping it up and hollering. All they had to do was kick the extra point and Jim would cash his ticket. Except that didn't happen. The coach decided to kneel the ball down instead rather than risk another blocked kick. We were all incredulous. That was the worst beat I ever saw- down for most of the game, came roaring back and gave Jim hope, and then crushed him with that kneel down. I can remember how sick I felt for Jim. I kind of get sick just re-telling this story.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>The Good Karma, Bad Beat Jackpot</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p>In 2016 I had bought a new house in Twin Falls and sold my house in Boise. I was homeless as I waited for the family to move out of the house in Twin Falls. I had a week to kill. I decided to go to Tucson. Tucson is one of my favorite places.</p><p>I had a crazy thing happen to me a few months before selling my house in Boise. I was in the alley pulling weeds. When the sun went down, I took my sunglasses off. Right after I did that, I pulled a weed out of the ground and one of the stalks in this weed stuck me right in the eye. I tore the macula in the right eye, it went dark, and eventually I had surgery. So, I was blind in that eye for about 6 weeks. During that time, I had a serious problem with depth perception and driving. I backed into my truck, I backed into the trash cans, I even ripped the passenger mirror off the car backing it out of the garage.</p><p>The rear bumper of my Elantra was pretty scuffed up and scarred. A new bumper cover was only a couple hundred bucks on E Bay.</p><p>So off to Tucson I went.</p><p>The second day I was there I decided to go play poker at Casino Del Sol. On the way there, I get struck from behind at a traffic signal. Not too hard, maybe 5 MPH or so. Mexican gal, 50s, gets out of her car. She looks at my beat-up bumper and starts crying. She had gouged a hole in the bumper cover, but I was going to get a new one anyway. I looked at her and said, "no damage." It is fine. She is very apologetic and nice. She says thank you. We go about our separate ways.</p><p>At the casino, I landed a seat in a 4-8 game. They have a bad beat jackpot which is maxxed out at 50k. To win the bad beat jackpot, 20 dollars must be in the pot. Four of a kind must get beaten by four of a kind or better.</p><p>The game is full of solid players. There is a little old lady sitting two seats to my right. There is an old, grizzled player in the number one seat, on the left of the dealer. I am on the dealer's right, bullshitting with a guy next to me. After about 2 hours or so, the old, grizzled guy and grandma get in a raising war. I hadn't been paying attention and I look out at the board. There are two kings and two nines on the board. And neither one of these two will stop raising. I thought initially that each had a king full house but ol' grizzly won't stop raising. Grandma keeps raising back despite the fact she can see the two nines on board. They probably each put in 10 raises. I asked the guy next to me if he thought they had hit the jackpot. The guy "shushes" me. Grandma finally quits raising. She rolls over 4 kings. Ol grizzly rolls over 4 nines.</p><p>Ol grizzly wins 25,000. Grandma wins 12,500. The rest of us win about 1600 apiece. It takes the casino nearly 3 hours to pay us. We can't play while we wait, so everyone is bullshitting and grandma, hitting the white zin, is pretty much wasted and happy. She keeps drinking wine and kissing on me. It was kind of strange, but everybody seemed happy. I don't think her hubby cared too much for her kissing other players, but the 12 grand softened him up, I suppose.</p><p>While we were waiting to be paid, I won another 200 when the poker room calls my seat number in a random lottery.</p><p>It was a good karma day. I love Bob Seger and the casino had a band that played nothing but Bob Seger. I wish all days were like that but then I guess they wouldn't be so special.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-31058583929558661532023-01-28T04:27:00.002-07:002023-01-28T05:15:19.120-07:00Money, Money, MoneyI'm so fucking sick of advertising. It's an absolute bombardment. An intrusion into every conceivable space. I think of advertisers much like I think of cockroaches. Infiltrating my life through every conceivable crack. <div><br /></div><div>Monetize this, monetize that. Subscribe to this channel. We've detected you are using an adblocker, please disable your adblocker to continue. Spam blockers. Spam filters. The pricks even have my cellphone number and call that two or three times a day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tip jars, GoFundMe, GiveSendGo, Patreon, Google Adsense. Ads on my homepage, ads following my queries. Even ZeroHedge got into the act.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pleas from blog producers. Please support this blog. Ads on social media. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some places make you subscribe to comment. Marketwatch does that. Naked capitalism. Like I can't live without their proprietary genius, therefore I must pay them to comment. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even the casino kiosk asks me to donate my change to charity. </div><div><br /></div><div>Television advertising. I pay 70 bucks a month to watch YouTube TV. You'd think my 70 bucks would entitle me to watch something ad free. Oh no. They take your 70 bucks and then force feed you ad after ad after ad. I swear to gawd they must invent diseases to give us the cure. Never ending ads about medications that you should tell your doctor about. In fact, I've often thought covid 19 might be a marketing tool. A disease that was invented and leaked to scare people into taking some over priced, untested, and experimental drug that doesn't work. </div><div><br /></div><div>Does Pfizer issue refunds?</div><div><br /></div><div>Last week, I was binge watching "Murder in the Heartland." They embed advertising. You can't fast forward through. Instead, you are forced to watch the same 8 ads, over and over and over. All you can do is hit the mute button. </div><div><br /></div><div>Soon, I will see this on my TV. We have sensed that you have deployed your mute button, please unmute your TV to continue watching.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ads on benches, ads on shuttles, ads on hockey team uniforms, ads on billboards, ads on stadiums. Ads on soccer players. Bicycle racers and auto racers. Stadiums named after corporations.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next month, I'm gonna say fuck it. I am going to kill my TV. I am going to cancel YouTube, Netflix, and Amazon Prime. Not only am I going to save 100 bucks a month, but I am going to exterminate these TV cockroaches.</div><div><br /></div><div>Many years ago when I started this blog, I decided that under no uncertain terms would I ever allow an ad on here. It's all about scale anyway. You don't make shit unless you become some highly relevant piece of writing that people can't live without. Then you have pricing power.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, the good news is, I ain't that good. </div><div><br /></div><div>Frankenstein Government. Still lousy, still free, and worth every penny.</div><div><br /></div><div>Banksy, the original advertising hater. I loved him right from the beginning.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ABPxwIvyQ7K2d7MT3ROb7bTucu4JAviDW1427xvQExeF8Hks423B4OEHdRdkqJwMoxs9yoWkCC_efvUw8whp5j0JlVR1wERKn4RpdLu-Sa-FJNYw8rdwZN6oeMJ1vRovmAETNNZv_aKBSqL6X15bX_oKlrgX4rTqKsw7zojN1AkOy3vfnhDXjmvK/s1920/banksy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ABPxwIvyQ7K2d7MT3ROb7bTucu4JAviDW1427xvQExeF8Hks423B4OEHdRdkqJwMoxs9yoWkCC_efvUw8whp5j0JlVR1wERKn4RpdLu-Sa-FJNYw8rdwZN6oeMJ1vRovmAETNNZv_aKBSqL6X15bX_oKlrgX4rTqKsw7zojN1AkOy3vfnhDXjmvK/w406-h242/banksy.jpg" width="406" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-72189970660839636512023-01-26T04:19:00.003-07:002023-01-26T04:48:01.010-07:00What Are the Limits of Your Obedience?<p>Maybe it's time to think about the limits of your obedience.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="382" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0h9yCCjsVn4" width="514" youtube-src-id="0h9yCCjsVn4"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-12533856933769274032023-01-23T14:02:00.022-07:002023-04-06T04:45:18.036-06:00Please Carry Your Guns With You<p> Many years ago, in a restaurant called Black Bear Diner, there was a group of older gentlemen that would come in each day and drink coffee. Each of them was carrying a firearm in full view or what we commonly call, "open carry."</p><p>In those days, Idaho still required concealed carry permits issued by the local Sheriff.</p><p>Most of the men in Idaho, native born that is, know a lot about firearms. So, what the concealed weapon permit law actually accomplished was that law abiding and knowledgeable citizens were deterred from carrying guns. This left Idahoans at a severe disadvantage because criminals don't care about concealed carry permits. The law actually kept criminals armed while disarming good citizens. </p><p>So one day while having breakfast with a liberal gal at that particular restaurant, a bunch of those gun toting guys came in. My liberal friend asked me, "doesn't that bother you?"</p><p>I looked at her and said, "absolutely not. You are sitting in the safest restaurant in all of Boise." </p><p>As an epilogue to that story, Idaho finally rid itself of the concealed carry weapon permit a few years later. No longer were citizens required to get a note from their government mommy to protect themselves. Before we continue, can we agree on two things?</p><p>1. Beyond the armed services and law enforcement, only mentally ill people intentionally kill other people. 2. You should know how to properly handle a gun safely, how to clear jams, and shoot straight. Practice and learn tactical advantages.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>We Have a Mental Health Problem in America, Recognizing That Will Save Lives</b></p><p>I don't ever want to shoot or kill anyone. But right now we have two enemies. We have a serious mental health crisis wherein depressed and mentally ill people fantasize about killing others. That's not to say, I am not sympathetic to mental illness. I am a former N.A.M.I. board member. </p><p>So that is our first potential enemy. Our second enemy is a government that ignores the actual illness and attempts to treat the symptoms. This is what some bad physicians do. They don't take the time to actually diagnose what is wrong with a patient, they just write a prescription for some drug that treats our symptoms.</p><p>We all know the difference between a good physician and a bad one. We get that. Why then is the public distracted from the real issue, mental illness, and focused on the idea that guns are bad? Because vilifying guns is easy and it gets podium pounding votes. Let's face it. Many people are stupid and buy into that rhetoric. Fixing mental illness is hard. Passing worthless gun legislation is always easy.</p><p>One last item that is not insignificant. Those same governments, state and federal, are the same governments who let these mentally ill assassins fall through the cracks. Give them early releases. Fail to provide mental health support and monthly checkups. Killers walk amongst us.</p><p>Poorly run government and the often untreated, mentally ill are the issue. But I can't solve that. Those are external issues, long ignored. But I do have dominion over my own life and the lives close to me. Unfortunately, I must practice civil disobedience to be a good citizen.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Guns Are Simply Tools, Like Tow Chains and Jumper Cables</b></p><p>In my car and truck, I carry all three items. The truth is, I don't want to have to use any of them. I have crawled under two vehicles and pulled them out of a snowbank and a muddy ditch. I have jump started a few cars with jumper cables. </p><p>Nobody calls me a tow chain nut. Or a jumper cable fanatic. But they do say, thank you, after I provide the tools to help them. I have never shot a human being in my life. I hope I never do. But if I have to, I can and I will. That's the promise I make to myself, my family, and anyone nearby. That is part of the cost of being a good citizen.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>A Few Examples of Items That Changed My Mind About Carrying Guns</b></p><p>In the small town I used to police in, we had a very angry and large human being named Howard. Howard was plagued with mental illness. Howard always carried a giant ax which he would sling over his shoulder. He carried that thing everywhere. Into banks, stores, and as he walked down the street. He scared the hell out of people. But carrying a giant ax is not illegal. Nor could I take it from him. All I could do was be nice to Howard and hope he did not cleave someone's head with that thing. I invited Howard into my office every week. Howard and I became good friends. He was funny as all hell. But I didn't let my guard down. Emotions can turn on a dime and I knew that.</p><p>Originally, I never made a big point of carrying a gun off-duty. I can think of one time that a .223 ranch rifle on my front seat stopped an entire car full of drunken idiots from beating me with a tire iron...but beyond that...all I had ever used a gun for was the killing of deer and elk struck by cars.</p><p>In 2007, after I retired, I was in New Orleans. The state of Louisiana had released a man who had killed two people. Once as a juvenile, the second as a young adult in what he described as a drug deal gone bad which was probably nothing more than a drug rip off. He had done 10 years for that manslaughter. At any rate, I was forced to co-exist in a situation with this man for a while and during that time- I would catch him staring at me. He knew I was retired police. The guy gave me the creeps. I began to start carrying guns with me, concealed and in my car. I didn't even bother to check what the law was- because it didn't matter to me. I was going to protect myself and quite honestly, I could care less about the law beyond 2A. </p><p>From that point on, I began to carry guns. Usually concealed. I didn't want to attract attention.</p><p>By the way, New Orleans is a shooting gallery. I have never been to a scarier place.</p><p>I also carry guns in businesses that prohibit concealed carry. When I see a sign with a handgun and a slash through it- what the translation means to me is- "Hey if you want to come in here and kill a bunch of people, please go ahead. We have disarmed our customers."</p><p><br /></p><p><b>The Hits Just Keep Coming</b> </p><p>Over the weekend, a deranged man killed 10 people and wounded many more in California. When caught, this 72 year old shot himself. A few months ago, a guy in Las Vegas stabbed 8 women, killing 2 on the strip. </p><p>Could an armed bystander have intervened and stopped either of these two events? Yes. </p><p>Have armed individuals stopped attacks? Yes. There are many instances of this. One of them occurred just north of me in the Salt Lake area when an armed gunman was shot and killed in a mall.</p><p>There are exceptions. The barricaded sniper in Las Vegas who shot concert goers. That was a horrible, savage, well planned attack. Pure evil. I doubt any intervention, save a few potshots from the ground, would have accomplished anything except given away your position with muzzle flash. No SWAT team could have been assembled in time. I doubt anyone in the initial attack had any idea where the shots were coming from. That shooter lived 60 miles from me. I undoubtedly crossed paths with him in a casino which has a handgun sign with a slash through it which reads, "No Firearms."</p><p>I could go on and on. But I want to leave you with this. The Luby's shooting in Killeen, Texas. Oct. of 1991. There was a woman who testified in front of Congress that she had left her gun in her pickup truck that day because she did not have a permit to carry it. Subsequent to that, she watched the suspect kill both of her parents. This first link recaps that day. The second vid is her testimony. Schumer has hair- that's how old this is.</p><p> <a href="https://kdhnews.com/news/local/25-years-later-memories-of-lubys-shooting-fade-but-dont-die/article_c9b9b2b0-9357-11e6-ad69-abfb3fb48883.html">25 Years Later: Memories of Luby's shooting fade but don't die | Local News | kdhnews.com</a></p><p>Perhaps the most powerful, compelling, 5 minutes of video that I have ever seen. I watched today via You Tube- I had not seen it back in the 90's. It sent chills up my spine just watching it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DEJFAvA-ZUE" width="320" youtube-src-id="DEJFAvA-ZUE"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Please Carry Your Guns With You</b></p><p>It's been 31 years since the Luby's murders in Killeen, Texas. That should be enough time for anyone to realize this murderous rage in our culture is not getting better and it's not going away any time soon.</p><p>In a place not too far away, I carry my gun into one of those places that says no firearms. The employees know that I carry guns. They do not tell anyone. They are glad that I do.</p><p>I want responsible, trained, people to carry guns. I want caring people to remain in our society and culture. I want law abiding citizens to obey local laws if you can. Being well trained and responsible helps send the message that we aren't going to stand idly by and watch people get killed or be killed- begging for mercy that will not come. When bad guys start to worry about whether they will get killed, then we have a chance of slowing this down. A deterrent effect. </p><p>I have to accept the reality. The mentally ill are growing in number. Bad laws, designed to disarm law abiding people are growing in number. We cannot rid ourselves of the mentally ill or the misguided politicians that abuse our emotions and intelligence while banging the anti-gun drum looking for campaign or party donations.</p><p>We have to rely on something that has always worked. A decent, well informed, and polite society. </p><p>Please carry your guns. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-89925804023567900672023-01-17T05:50:00.001-07:002023-01-17T11:33:05.631-07:00Making the Universe Right<p>Thank God for you Jack.</p><p>I have reached that age where I cannot always tell the true from the false. I tend to think my younger years were kinder and gentler. But that is a lie. The world has always been a harsh place where one poor decision might spell disaster. Many of us escape a lot of bad decisions intact. We learn and we live. Mostly though, we remember what happened to us along the way. </p><p>I had always been an explorer. Always going somewhere, always trying new things, some good and some bad. I think in the beginning, I wasn't fully aware of all of the judgement and evil in the world until I experienced it in those explorations. These are the things we don't talk about. The things that impact us and change us for the better and sometimes for the worse.</p><p>I felt the sting of many bad decisions, some my fault, some not. </p><p>And during those explorations we call our lives, we have bastions or pillars of sanity we meet along the way. Guideposts. People who "get us" when most do not. Jack was one of the ones. One of the few.</p><p>Mrs. Webb in the 5th grade. Mr Winchell in the 11th. Doug D when I was 17. Jack S when I was 30. Jim A when I was 43. Des C when I was 47. My 2nd wife when I was 56. That's it.</p><p>The list of people who didn't "get me" is much longer. These are the people who judge us harshly. They can't believe we act the way we do. The proper way to act is a secret, discoverable only when you violate some script these judgers carry about in their heads. At their best, they keep their opinions to themselves. At their worst, they seek to actually damage us. The conflict is really about who they are- sometimes our mere presence is something they cannot tolerate.</p><p>I understood that at an early age. It took me a lot longer to accept it.</p><p>So when Jack S came to me by way of Mayoral edict, I was wary of him and he was wary of me. After a few months of long hours working together, I discovered that Jack was a tolerant, kind person with a large dose of patience. I think Jack discovered that I was a head strong but loyal person. I didn't quit until the job was over. I was always willing to fight for what I thought was right and it landed me in some trouble. Jack bailed me out a few times. I like to think I bailed him out a few times as well.</p><p>Many times in the eleven years we were together, I very often looked at Jack like he was a father of sorts. He was caring and tolerant. He was empathetic. He had all the skills he needed to deal with me. Skills my own father never had. Some call these people role models. I call them blessings, perhaps miracles.</p><p>For eleven years or so, Jack and I worked hard to make the universe right. We locked up murderers, pedophiles, thieves, and drunks. We suffered through refusals to prosecute, plea bargaining, chicken shit dismissals, and ridiculous sentences. We dodged a few scandals, attended meetings ad infinitum and then one day, Jack up and quit. He never really gave me the reason, but I suspected what it was. For me, the timing could not have been worse. </p><p>So it was, I had another seven years left on my sentence. When you take hard stands or tell people truths they don't want to hear, you don't last very long in the upper echelons of small-town politics. The very best chiefs and city administrators master the art of ass kissing. They survive long stretches, through some combination of convincing folks they are irreplaceable coupled with a large dose of ass smoochery. I have a different script in my head that they don't get. That I made it seven years after Jack, was a miracle all by itself. </p><p>I quit trying to make the universe right in 2007. By then Jack was out enjoying his life. I was certainly the better for having known him. </p><p>So, when I heard Jack had cancer a while back, we talked on the phone after all those years. Same nice guy I had always known, offering hope and encouragement for his future and mine. Some thirty years had gone by, and I still remembered his phone number.</p><p>Jack fell ill and died January 5. The new Chief gave me the news. I felt sick to my stomach. The truth is, it has taken me nearly two weeks to come to terms with it. I tried to write a note on his chapel obituary but for some strange reason, it wouldn't publish. </p><p>I loved Jack like a father. He was one of the good ones. I owe him a lot. Thank you for being such a decent, kind man. Jack Stoneback, 1941-2023.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ak-Qf1EO3x5IuuILV3YkBCJurnv6cg0Iwj1KAqGnApYocnF5TnMlwRX0N8wfCDcsK26DybLumjZkoUnDxgxThIaxsKoosGbjwTuU2XqrmWCfXPZ8xKdNZCLwCvwSm9rHka8FNyGoXPj6yZ3TpfV3M1lDxQbsYV30L25ZHzHBgM_AZPpjbmJeS88e/s555/jack%20s.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="445" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ak-Qf1EO3x5IuuILV3YkBCJurnv6cg0Iwj1KAqGnApYocnF5TnMlwRX0N8wfCDcsK26DybLumjZkoUnDxgxThIaxsKoosGbjwTuU2XqrmWCfXPZ8xKdNZCLwCvwSm9rHka8FNyGoXPj6yZ3TpfV3M1lDxQbsYV30L25ZHzHBgM_AZPpjbmJeS88e/s320/jack%20s.webp" width="257" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3247350212550914879.post-17504304530983295842023-01-02T11:36:00.004-07:002023-01-08T09:48:53.404-07:00You Can't Measure This Heart<p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">Munith Fred Higbee. One of the very best. A cop story.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">I met Fred in 1983. He was about 64 years old at the time. He was the process/civil order server for the Sheriff's Office in Blaine County Idaho. A uniformed position. I was a newly hired jailer.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">Fred had been a cook in the Navy. He was present in Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked. I always pictured him on the deck of some ship shooting at Zeroes. He retired from the Navy after the war. He began a second career as a cook for the Sun Valley Company ski resort. I don't know how many years he worked there. I do know that it would have been in the 50's and I think one of the railroads owned Sun Valley and that technically Fred worked for the railroad.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">In 1981 or thereabouts, Fred wrapped up that career and decided to become a deputy sheriff. He was the oldest man at that time to graduate from the Idaho State police academy. He didn't finish near the bottom either. Mid pack as I recall, he was a 63 year old who could run 1.5 miles in 14 mins., do 20 pushups and 35 sit ups. I think the avg age in the academy was 29 at that time.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">Fred had a great work ethic and always had a daily routine. I remember one day at the office, I had made the coffee that morning. Fred took one look at the finished pot and poured it into the sink. He then pulled out the carrier, filled the filter to the brim with coffee, and restarted the coffee maker. That coffee was black and thick. Fred looked at me and said, "that was real coffee."</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">My favorite thing about Fred was what a horrible driver he was. His driving was legendary, simply awful.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">I am going to tell you a few stories about his driving, all of which I witnessed. I have many more.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">Fred drove fast. All the time. He was the king of distracted drivers long before cell phones made it common.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">I was following Fred up a county highway one day in my personal car. Fred was in his patrol car and obviously not paying attention. This was a two-lane highway at the time and people were constantly slowing and turning into subdivisions before they finally put in some turn lanes. Anyway, Fred looked up just in time to see that the car in front of him was stopping to turn left and there was oncoming traffic. With no time to stop, Fred jerked the wheel right to avoid a rear ender, slammed on the brakes, skid marks through the fog line, off the pavement and into the ditch. I watched as he traveled at 50 MPH or so about two hundred feet down the ditch, as the car was bouncing wildly. Fred brought 'er back up on the road, past the car that he nearly hit, and continued down the highway like nothing happened.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">We used to have those barrels during hunting season where hunters would skin their deer and elk and donate the hide. I suppose some group tanned the hides and sold them. Anyway, every year during hunting season, they put one of those barrels on the corner, just one block from the sheriff's office. One snowy morning when the road was slick, I watched as Fred came down the hill in his car going way too fast. He tried to turn right but the front end was sliding. It suddenly caught the curb, jumped it, and he smacked that metal deer and elk hide barrel and sent it careening down Main. Spilling out a hide or two in the process. Fred simply kept going like it was nobody's business.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">We had a jailer, Mike, and I don't think Fred was a big fan of Mike's. One day Mike had bought 6 snow shovels for the inmates to use as they cleared all the walks and driveways at the sheriff's office. Mike had placed all six of the shovels in the center bay, on the floor, and had spray painted some identifying marks on them. He was letting them dry. Pretty soon Fred came wheeling up, hit his garage door opener, and promptly ran over all six shovels snapping them in half and ruining them. Mike started yelling holy hell at Fred. Fred looked at Mike and said they shouldn't have been there. Mike looked at me, for sympathy, and said "Do you believe that shit?" I looked at Mike and said Fred was right.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">I will not tell you how Fred shot out the rear window, front seat, and steering wheel of his patrol car with a 30-30 rifle I had sold him. I will just say, he told me before selling the gun back to me, that he had never fired it. About 30 seconds later, with one round still hanging in the chamber, Fred fired that gun for the very first time. The trustee who was in the garage was shell shocked. I remember it well. It was the hardest I ever laughed in my life. I could not quit laughing. Between Fred holding that gun in a state of shock and Terry the trustee standing their gaping- I tried, really, I did. But I couldn't hold it in. I was laughing hours later on a traffic stop and remember a motorist looking at me like I was nuts.</p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: #2a2e2e; font-size: 15px;">Fred retired after 20 years. Lived a couple more before leaving this plane for the next. One of the best, zaniest, characters that I have ever met. You can't measure that heart. </span></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11009623520148094685noreply@blogger.com0