Tuesday, September 02, 2014

Cop Stories

Once upon a time, I was working a rural caseload near Bugscuffle, LA, (not to be confused with Bugscuffle, TX) out in the sticks on the border of Louisiana and Texas. It had been One Of Those Days. When I got through, ready to head home just at dark, I was coming out of the woods and ran upon a little backwoods bar. I decided, just on the spur of the moment, to stop in and get a beer, the hell with the rules.   Those rules being that we don't go into bars in uniform, we don't drink in uniform, and we don't drive the state's cars after we've been drinking.  Like I said, it had been One Of Those Days, and to hell with the rules.

Technically, I wasn't in uniform.I was in sorta-plainclothes,. Khakis, cowboy boots, a polo with an embroidered badge, and a SW66 strapped to my waist. I walked to the bar, hailed the bartender, and suddenly the place emptied out, like I was raiding the joint.

The bartender looked at me. "What'll it be?"
"Miller High Life." I looked around at the empty bar.. "Do they always leave like that?"
Bartender snorted. "They don't trust the police. Are you going to be here long?"
"Just long enough to drink a beer. Why?"
"Cause I have to go to the bathroom. Watch the place for a minute, will you?"

I stood there in the quiet, drinking my beer. The barkeep came back a few minutes later, and I left the place, heading home to wife and children. Sure enough, all those rednecks were waiting quietly in the gravel parking lot. I tipped my hat to the ladies, started the car, and headed home.

Monday, September 01, 2014

The IRS SCandal - Day 480

Lest we forget, there's an IRS scandal still on the investigator's books, and suits abound. If you want to kep up with the latest on the ongoing revelations, go to Professor Paul Caron's TaxProfBlg.  Professor Caron, of Pepperdine University has been doing yeoman service keeping us updated on the latest in the scandal, and today's updates are really interesting.

Those of us who have smartphones know that our email appears on the phone, and Lois Lerner was no different.  She had a Blackberry, and there are new revelations that the Blackberry held all her emails.  It, of course was destroyed when she learned that she would have to appear before investigators.  From the High Plans Daily, Leader & Times.
An IRS official declared under oath, that the destroyed Blackberry contained the same subpoenaed emails (both sent and received) as Lois Lerner’s computer hard-drive. Judge Sullivan had decided the best way to arrive at the truth with the suspected IRS conspirators was to have them give sworn-testimony so any false statement would lead to criminal charges of perjury or obstruction of justice.
If these revelations are true, then Lerner and company are guilty of Spoilation of Evidence, a crime in many cases.  Which might explain why Lerner took the fifth.  She's guilty as sin, and she knows it.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Cop Stories

I remember a time in the mid '90s, in Chinquapin, LA  (No, Chinguapin isn't a real place).  A gas station on the south side of town and a guy stops in about midnight to fill up his vehicle, a Ford Econoline van.  No windows, just a basic delivery van.  White, it looked like a crackerbox on wheels.

He goes inside to pay for his gasoline before he pumps it and when he comes back outside, the van is gone.  Stolen.  He goes inside and reports his van stolen and they call the police.  Luckily, a Chinquapin PD unit was close by and rolled into the store in less than a minute.

The police officer, a seasoned veteran (we'll call him Cop A) of small town policing, interviews the victim, gets a description of the vehicle, and calls it in.  In just a few minutes, there is another call on the radio.  Cop B has the vehicle shut down, about two miles away, and it appears to be out of gas.  Cop A puts the victim in the police unit to take him to identify the vehicle, and sure enough, as they roll up, the victim identifies the vehicle as his.

Cop A and the victim get out of the unit, and the victim positively identifies his vehicle.  The car thief is in custody in the back of the cruiser, charged with Theft of A Movable, being the vehicle in question.  Cop B asks the victim for the third time if he's absolutely, positively sure that the vehicle is his, and the victim identifies the vehicle as his.  Produces his registration from the vehicle glove box, which is checked against his driver's license.  Sure enough, he's the registered owner of the vehicle.

At which time Cop B puts the victim in handcuffs and reads him the Mirada warning.  Cop A is considerably confused until Cop B explains that the rear of the panel van contains a fully working meth lab, bubbling happily away.  The car t hief is charged with car theft, and the victim is charged with Production of Methamphetamine, which carries a much stiffer sentence.

Sometimes it doesn't pay to ist your vehicle as stolen.

Sunday Morning Dawg

Rainy on Saturday, and the dog didn't get outside much.  He prefers to sit beside Milady's chair during bad weather.

It'll be all right, dog, just wait till the rain is over.  As I type this, Milady is eating lunch and the dog is turning his nose up at two of his favorites, flour tortillas and doritos.  Unbelievable.  This weather has him all screwed up.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

World's Record Alligator

At fifteen feet, nine inches and a thousand pounds, that's one helluva alligator.

It looks like it put up a fight.
The Alabama alligator was caught by the Stokes family after battling with it for more than five hours. It was hooked in a creek about 80 miles west of Montgomery.
According to the story, the weight destroyed the winch normally used to weigh 'gators, and they had to use a backhoe to get it off the ground.  The previous record was 14 feet, 8 inches from a gator caught in Texas.

Saturday Weather

Woke this morning to a gentle rain.  During my morning coffee, I see that it's intensified to a general downpour.  The ditches are running and the dog is under Milady's chair.  A look at the weather map gives me this interesting graphic.

 It looks like it's going to be with us for several more hours, and I'm very glad that I mowed grass yesterday afternoon.  There's plenty of work to do inside, and Milady and I can spend a morning in our slippers.  This ain't bad, it ain't bad at all.

Friday, August 29, 2014

Where Does Mary Live?

Interesting question, considering that our senior senator, Mary Landrieu is asking us for another term  Hot Air's Mary Katherine Ham takes a look at the question.
On a statement of candidacy Landrieu filed with the Federal Election Commission in January, she listed her Capitol Hill home as her address. But when qualifying for the ballot in Louisiana last week, she listed the family’s raised-basement home here on South Prieur Street.
Senator Landrieu and her husband built a home in Washington.  That makes sense, rather than pay rent, but the question of residency remains.  Mary, of course, wants to be a Louisiana resident so that folks will vote for her, so she uses her parents address in New Orleans.  Everyone knows that the Landrieu family hails from New Orleans, her dad was mayor there, but where does she reside?
“I don’t think she lives there,” said Fontaine Wells, 65, pointing at the Landrieu home. “She might come visit, but come on now — she lives in D.C. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her.”
I don't think it's too much to ask our senator to live in Louisiana and commute to Washington.  Rent an apartment, if necessary, but live in Louisiana.  It's no secret that I'm not a Mary Landrieu fan, and don't intend to vote for her.  I believe that she's too beholden to special interests, both inside and out of our state.  However, I do like the way that Mary Katherine concludes her discussion of Mary's residency problem.
On the upside, Landrieu could certainly argue she better understands the hardships of the Obama economy because she’s living in her parents’ basement. 
Heh!  Indeed.  If anyone asks, PawPaw is voting for Rob Maness, at least in the primary. 

Cop Stories

Cross-posted from a forum I frequent, I was recalling a cop story from my early days in law enforcement.
 Early '80s, a local yokel decides to hold up the local bank, downtown in Natchitoches, LA one morning about 9:00. He strides in, gives the cashier a note, she gives him the dye pack. He turns around and leaves the bank. As he 's going out the door, he stuffs the dye pack down the front of his pants and while going through the second door, actually has the door held open for him by young police detective, there to make a deposit for his wife.
This young detective has never seen a dye pack, and is considerably surprised when he hears a pop and dye shoots up the front of the guy he's holding the door for. The robber takes about two more steps and collapses on the sidewalk, 'cause things are getting hot in his crotch.(A dye pack gets very hot when it goes off, normally burning the fake cash as it catches fire).  The detective is considerably confused at the gymnastics this guy is doing, flopping and crying on the sidewalk,  until the bank manager comes to the door and tells the cop that the guy just robbed the bank.
Suddenly, the light goes on, and the young detective springs into action, doing all the right things, making the arrest, getting an ambulance, etc, etc. So, this young detective gets to be a local hero, foiling a bank heist and getting his photo in the paper. Of course, the rest of us know that he was simply in the right place at the opportune time and had it not been for the dye pack, the robber would have escaped while he held the door open for him.
No, the cop wasn't me.  And, it's better to be lucky than smart although the young detective was smart enough.

Thursday, August 28, 2014


If you live in Louisiana, this time of year you start watching the weather maps.  Hurricane intensity increases in September, taking advantage of the warm water in the Gulf of Mexico that's been warming all summer.  So, one of my daily reads this time of year is the National Hurricane Center, where we find this lovely graphic this morning.

Three items of interest this morning.  Hurricane Cristobal appears to tracking the east coast where it will eventually get over cold water and lose its rotation.  The Rio Grande Valley looks to be targeted for a drenching, and there's another disturbance near the Antilles that bears watching.  We'll be keeping a weather-eye on that one for sure.  Those of us in hurricane country remember Katrina, which started in late August and came ashore on August 29th, and we remember Rita, two weeks later, which was stronger than Katrina but came ashore in an area where people understood hurricanes and didn't cry about getting run over by one.

Sure, hurricane season starts in June, but I don't really get concerned  until the last week of August.  Then I keep an eye peeled until the first week of October.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

The Ferguson Debacle

Jack Murphy, over at PJMedia, makes some good points in his current piece.  He deconstructs some myths and defines some of the players with a razor sharp pen.  For example:
There is no carnival so vulgar that it cannot be made more so with the appearance of Al Sharpton, a man whose rise to prominence began with a fraud and has continued without a trace of shame along the same lines ever since.  His act is so predictable and so tiresome that by now it’s a wonder anyone pays attention to him at all.  He would leap over the dead bodies of all 60 black men killed by other black men to get to the one who had been killed by a cop, and his only concern in doing so would be to get there before Jesse Jackson did.
That's got to leave a mark, but I doubt that Sharpton can bruise, anymore.

Go, (as they say) and read the whole thing.  It's worth the fifteen minutes you'll spend.  And yes, I agree with him that police should leave the camouflage at home.