Sarah Palin at the Ren Faire

One more thing.

Did I mention that we saw Sarah Palin at the Ren Faire?

Oh yah, you betcha we did:




The press hasn't gotten hold of this yet, but 5 Jaeger shots after this picture was taken she totally made out with that viking chick behind her. Then she screamed DON'T YOU JUDGE ME and punched out a passing jester. Security removed her after that and I lost track of her in the crowd.

Why am I such a dick sometimes?

MizBubs just bought a new car for the first time in her life yesterday. Thanks to the "Cash for Clunkers" program, she settled on a new Nissan Cube. It marks the first time since 1989 that she has not been the driver of a minivan. She is excited.

Our youngest, just-starting-to-drive daughter is also very excited. She pushed hard for the Cube, and was terrified that MizBubs, practical and thrifty gal that she is, might opt for something cheaper and more run o' the mill than the Cube. As my bride finished up her paperwork, I couldn't resist sending a text message to our youngest:

Your mom decided to go with a charcoal nissan sentra

My bride looked at me, shook her head and said "why do you do this?"

"Can't help myself" I answered, starting to cackle. She's told me before that my passive aggressive practical joking sometimes marks me as kind of a jerk. This is how the rest of the exchange went:

Youre kidding.

3000 cheaper

Its a 4 door sedan but i talked her out of the wagon

Why would we get a sedan theres no space were getting a cube you cant just lie to me for a month

She decided to go with a more sensible car than a cube

The cube IS sensible. If youre kidding stop it its NOT funny.

Its a sedan but it has a really big trunk and a full size spare

TELL HER NO GET THE FUCKING CUBE PLEASE. DONT DO THIS

Shes signing the paperwork now

If you dont get the cube I wont talk to you for the rest of the summer.

Does this mean our road trip is off? Because the sedan is a smooth ride

I hate you guys.

I think MizBubs got a good deal on the car, but I'm not completely sure. I was giggling like Richard Widmark pushing an old woman down the stairs, and didn't really pay much attention to the closing details. She told me later that it worked out well for her. When everything was finished she texted both girls and said she was surprised, and maybe a little disappointed, that

1) they had no faith in her to ultimately choose the fun car, and

2) they fell for my bullshit, again, after all these years.

I did not get hit that hard when I got home.

No blog is an island

I am not (yet) a reclusive, booze-addled, gun-happy crank. I love socializing and talking, so I felt more than a little embarrassed that it took me this long to link to some of my favorite sites. Please accept my apology for not doing so sooner. I'm still figuring this out, and going through my bookmarks to find more stuff to link to. I imagine that within a week or two there will be quite a few more blogs up there, and a whole bunch more pop culture and political bullshit.

The snow's been shoveled two and a half times so far, and I'm sure there's more to come. I'm not beefing--you'd have to be a real whiner to complain about this snow after seeing what got dumped on NY state last week. I've been on the phone with work about a half dozen times today because some high-ranking clown is upset that I left my car parked in the department lot. We went to my niece's birthday party Saturday, and MizBubs suggested that she pick me up at work rather than wait for me to drive home and leave from there. I would've picked up the car sooner, but I didn't need it. Anyway, rather than just call me directly, bozo, undoubtedly cranked up by a couple of scheming cronies, spent the entire day pestering my friend who's working today and is the acting commander while our boss is on vacation. My friend, under orders, has had to call me every time and report back to bozo--yes, Joe is going to move his car, some time later today after his daughter gets home from school. Honest to God, if we spent half the effort on real police work that we do on peripheral chickenshit like cleaning the parking lot, or replacing the hat shields and bands on the uniform hats, there'd be no crime. I'll go in later tonight, after all the day shift hall monitors have gone home, and get my car. I want them to see it as they leave work and go home upset.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I hope everyone has someone special to spend some time with. If you don't, I hope one's on the way.

I want to sign off on an up note, so here's a little Bettie Page, looking like she's wearing her Valentine's Day bustier and shoes. Dig that hep mid-century furniture in the background.

Like Christmas in January

One thing I really like is ordering stuff online, and then coming home from work to find packages recently arrived, waiting for me on the dining room table. It's exciting!

Anyway, this was a busy week. I spent the past 5 days in a class on dignitary protection. Ever wonder how to redirect the target of gunfire and push him headfirst into a waiting limo? We learned how to do stuff like that. The course culminated in a 10 hour long exercise wherein we protected our two "dignitaries" (a judge and our Chief of Police) who were the targets of death threats from a white supremacist group. We went to Midway airport (where we got to drive out onto the tarmac to pick up our principals, jets roaring overhead), the Bilandic building on LaSalle Street, Tavern on Rush, back to the Bilandic building, and then to the United Center for a Blackhawks game. I have a newfound awe and respect for agencies like the Secret Service and the US Marshall who do this all the time.

So, Thursday night I got home and found two boxes on the dining room table. You see the contents in this picture. I finally broke down and bought a basic notebook computer, and I'm excited about that--now I'll be one of those slick bullshit artists with a Power Point presentation ready for any occasion. It's a Compaq from Office Depot, and once I send in these rebates it will have cost me $499.

The other box did not, sadly, contain a firearm. But it did contain a new holster: a Blackhawk CQC Serpa holster for my Glock 26. What a great holster--it came with attachments for wearing on a belt (which is what you see here) as well as a "paddle" attachment for inside-the-belt wear.

It's nice to be well-equipped.

Rent a cop

OK, I promise that one of these days I'll sit down and actually write something, and maybe look up some interesting stories to try and entertain you.

The thing is, I took advantage of the last two "days off" to pick up some corporate security work. I ended up spending 9 hours in a parking lot making sure an executive who'd just been fired didn't come back to the office. Turns out the guy was a total fraud and a nutcase. So, now that I'm done fattening my wallet by taking a break from representing the armed might of the state, and instead representing the armed might of corporate America, I can return to blogging. I started by letting the pod in the basement open up, and I switched over to new Blogger, promptly dehumanizing several commenters and rendering them anonymous. Sorry.

I know there's lots of newsworthy events out there that need my attention. Newsworthy stories like this:

People getting arrested in stolen cars because their girlfriends like to stand up through the sunroof, topless

and this:

Middle-aged Cialis freaks going wild in Myrtle Beach.

The Bears won their first playoff game. I was going to write tons of thoughtful sports commentary. Really.

I was near apoplectic after watching Bush's speech on his "new" plan for Iraq. Fortunately, Johnny Yen said most of what I would've said, only better, here, here, and here. Briefly, here's what really pisses me off about the Iraq "surge": according to the US Army's own Counterinsurgency Field Manual, (written by Lt Gen David Petraeus, newly-appointed Iraq commander) the desirable ratio of soldiers to civilians in a counterinsurgency campaign should be about 20 per 1,000. According to the CIA World Factbook, the population of Iraq is approximately 26,700,000. The population of Baghdad is approximately 5,700,000. By those numbers, then, an ideal counterinsurgency campaign in Baghdad would require about 114,000 soldiers. The ideal figure for the entire nation of Iraq would be about 534,000 soldiers. And Eric Shinseki got shit-canned for having the nerve to suggest as much to a Senate committee before the war started. For any of you military history buffs out there, here's an interesting article on "Force Requirements for Stability Operations" from the US Army War College.

So, in a nutshell, Bush's 20,000-soldier "surge" is just more bullshit.

Ok, what else. I got tagged by Katie Schwartz and I'm terrified that I'll look like a poor sport for not responding. Is it ok to wait a week or so before doing one of those things, or is there some expiration date?

Speaking of not responding, my procrastination seems to get worse lately. I have boxes of documents that I need to get rid of (one box of documents from a failed union organizing drive and another of old travel brochures and law enforcement magazines) and two other boxes of documents I desperately need to sort out. SOON. Because a lot of my 2006 tax records are in there, and got thrown in and mixed up with a lot of other crap during a round of frantic pre-holiday-let's-get-the-house-ready-for-company housecleaning. I plan on running in the Chicago Marathon again this year, but I haven't run since Thanksgiving and I'm now tipping the scales at 215 pounds. Did you know that the Chicago Area Runners Association has a category for runners like me? They call us Clydesdales.

I'm chock-full of vaguely formed big plans, yes indeed. Maybe I'll start working on them tomorrow.

No woman would ever do that

I participated in a practical joke today, a little thing really, that didn’t result in property damage, legal action or a visit to the doctor. The reason I’m writing about it is that I got the same reaction, nearly word-for-word, from both my mom and from MizBubs:

“No woman would ever do that.”

Here’s what happened. My mom is doing some financial stuff, and my brother John found a guy he knows from work to help her. I went over to her place to be there while the guy (Jim) made his presentation. When we finished, Jim mentioned that my brother is always kidding around with other people in his office. Jim said he was going to have a little fun by calling John and pretending to be lost, almost an hour after the scheduled appointment time. I thought this was a swell idea, and said that I’d go one better—I’d wait until Jim walked out the door, and then call John and tell him Jim hadn’t showed up yet.

My brother John is one of the most generous and conscientious people I’ve ever known. He also worries. He called me, and then my mom, and then me again about 3 or 4 times setting up this appointment. And then last night he called back and double-checked. Twice. Now what’s really cool is, when he gets worked up he swears even better than I do. I mean, epic and colorful swearing. Mom had a concerned look on her face as Jim and I discussed our plan. We shook hands, Jim walked out the door, and I made the first call at 11:55am:

John: Hi mom, how’d it go?

Me: No, John, it’s me, I’m on mom’s phone. Hey, what time was that appointment, 11 or 12?

John: What?

Me: Was that guy supposed to be here at 11 or 12? Mom was wondering.

John: What? Jim’s not there?

Me: No, I thought you said 11 but I wasn’t sure. I’ve been here since 10:30.

John: Hold on. (papers shuffling, then hold music) I made that appointment for 11. Sonofabitch. He hasn’t called? Shit.

Me: So you’re sure it was for 11?

John: YES I’M SURE. I’ll call you right back. (CLICK. Hangs up)

Mom: Why are you doing this?

Me: Because it’s funny as hell. John’s going nuts right now.

Mom: No woman would ever do something like this. Why do men find this funny?

The phone rang.

John: Joe, you there?

Me: Yeah, what’s up?

John: Listen, Jim says he’s just pulling up by the house, look for him.

Me: So you got hold of him? What’s the deal?

John: I DON’T KNOW. He’s a good guy, ok? Just give him the benefit of a doubt. He knows what he’s doing.

Me: Is there a problem or something?

John: NO. He’s really a good guy, he should be there. Just, uh, give him the benefit of a doubt, ok?

Me: I’m looking out the window, he’s still not here.

John: Fuck. I’ll call you back. (CLICK)

About 5 seconds later:

Jim: (laughing) Hi, Joe, please, call your brother back and tell him I’m there. Please. He’s calling me.

Me: Sure thing. Bye.

Jim: Bye.

Me: Hello, John?

John: Yeah Joe, listen, I don’t know what the f*cking problem is,

Me: (cutting John off) It’s ok, everything’s fine.

John: Yeah?

Me: Yeah, Jim just left.

John: (Silence) What?

Me: Jim just left. He dropped off a packet of information and a business card and he left, just a minute ago.

John: WHAT?

Me: Yeah, he introduced himself to mom, dropped off some stuff and then he left. He brought mom a flower, that was nice. Seemed like a nice

John: (cutting me off) WHAT? He’s gone already?

Me: Yeah. Was there supposed to be more than that?

John: HOLD ON (hold music) Yeah listen, Joe, I don’t know what’s going on.

Me: John, everything is fine, Jim got here early, before 11.

John: What?

Me: Everything’s fine, Jim did a real nice presentation. He got here before 11, and left a few minutes ago. Everything’s fine. I’m just joking with you.

John: FUCK YOU. (CLICK)

I almost fell out laughing. See, what I can’t convey on paper is the rising sense of confusion, followed by panic, followed by anger, which I found totally hilarious. My mom said, in that gentle way that moms have, “I don’t know why you and your brother do that to each other.”

“Because it’s funny.”

“You think so.”

I got home and told this story to MizBubs. I started laughing, and she started laughing, and then she pulled herself up and said “you know, no woman would do something like that.”

So what’s the deal? It’s not like there’s some big gap between my sensibility and MizBubs’. One of the first things I came to appreciate about her was that she’d watch Russ Meyer and women’s prison movies with me. And the Three Stooges. And I love Project Runway and craft shows.

I’ve just always enjoyed recreational lying. I get a great thrill out of seeing that stunned look of disbelief on people’s faces when I’ve pulled a whopper. Is that a male thing? Or is it just me and my family? I notice that I seemed to have passed the trait on to my youngest daughter (though MizBubs says she’d only do that kind of stuff to me, not to innocent people.)

I need to get some grant money and study this.