I'm it, baby

Tagged by Freida Bee, so here it is:

Ten years ago, what were you doing?

May 1998...I was working, a lot, as a detective (I got promoted in February 2000). Let's see, that was a busy spring. I was part of a newly-formed homicide task force as a forensic specialist, helping to set up a youth peer jury program, taking on more of the department's use of force training, and helping out with a sister city delegation from Ireland. In July 1998 I looked back on my schedule as I sat in an orthopedic surgeon's office. I was waiting to get my broken hand re-set. Anyway, looking back at my schedule over the three months before I went on vacation I noticed I had only had 9 days off in three months. That's days off without doing anything work-related, like court, training, overtime details or meetings. I will never, ever go back to living like that.

Five things on today's "to-do" list:

1) Start a 5 day fast and try not to go mental from lack of caffeine or fried food
2) Work on setting up a side job
3) Do laundry
4) Go to work in the afternoon, assign cases and arrange honor guard stuff for Memorial Day
5) Call my brother, whose beautiful wife is expecting their third child any time now

If I were a billionaire I would...

First of all, secure a big ass chunk of land with good water, and build a very green, energy efficient off-the-grid house somewhere down south. Set up the armory. Then breathe a sigh of relief once I had that done, and throw a big party for family and friends--the kind that involves chartering a plane and flying people in. Then I'd ask each of my family members what they had always wanted to do, but were afraid to, or didn't have the money for, and I'd help them do it. I'd sit down with MizBubs and my kids and figure out what charities or organizations to give money, and then I'd roam the earth for a while.

Three bad habits I have are:

Sloth
Gluttony
Wrath

Five places I've lived:

Louisville, Kentucky
Port Washington, New York
Teaneck, New Jersey
Yardley, Pennsylvania
Chicago, Illinois

Five jobs I've had:

Grocery bagger
Bookstore clerk
Shipping and receiving clerk
Catalog photographer
Cop

Anyone reading this, consider yourself tagged if you like!

I'm running out of personal information, 5 facts at a time

There are few things that people don't know about me any more. After responding to a number of memes/tags like this one I feel like there's not much more to reveal. But...when a monkey wearing a fez--especially a monkey doctor wearing a fez--makes a request, you do your damnedest to honor it.

Here goes:


1) At one time in my life I wanted to be a Civil War reenactor. I was always kind of a history geek when I was a kid, I loved acting, I lived in close proximity to historical sites back east (for a while we lived about 2 miles from where Washington crossed the Delaware) and I was 10 years old before I found out the south lost the Civil War. I used to see reenactments and think how cool it would be to do that on weekends. Now, in some goofy way, I suspect that my participation in my department's honor guard might be some kind of compensation for never having done this.

2) For a short period of time I had nearly shoulder-length hair.

3) I partied with Cindy Crawford in her underwear.

Well, really, I saw her in Sears maternity underwear when I was a photographer's assistant and she was in the early stages of her modeling career. I worked for a studio that did catalog work for Sears. For a while I had a Polaroid of her in that outfit (we shot on large format cameras, and took a Polaroid to check exposure and lighting) but one of the merch boys glommed it.

4) I act like sentimental idiot when I'm talking to my dogs, and like to hold scraps of food in my mouth and let them take it.

5) I convinced my youngest daughter that she would be carried off and raised by badgers if she misbehaved. She believed this until she was about 4 years old, when MizBubs took her to Brookfield Zoo and she saw real badgers for the first time.

I tag anyone who feels like doing this, because I've learned that some folks are irritated by being tagged, but I can't remember who they are and I don't want to risk pissing them off. Me, I don't mind being tagged because I'm a blowhard.

I may need a lot of things, but I'll get nothing and like it

Since I am thoroughly lazy and happy to rip off other folks' good ideas, this is a perfect Sunday morning post. Marni, Lulu and Tenacious S have all done it. As with any trend not involving animal attacks or clowns, I'm way behind the curve.

I typed in "Bubs needs" and googled away, and came to a disturbing discovery. Evidently, somewhere in the English-speaking world, "bubs" must be a common way of referring to a baby:

Sometimes bub's needs will have to come first but remember to think of the other kids and family members.

bubs needs a nappy change

bubs needs to be in bed for a min of 2 hours

I plan on throwing away the books and listening to what bubs needs.

bubs needs the extra iron now

Frankly, I'd be putting the bub's needs first

Finally I got a little further into the search and found a more academic Bubs:

Bub needs to solve the measurement problem (a. problem that Kochen and Specker never discuss)

Bub needs an argument that hidden variable theories that are empirically equivalent to the standard theory are unacceptable to establish his subthesis 1.

I assure you all that I am not a cannibal (unless I crashed on a snowy mountain with a plane full of soccer players, or got lost in the Rockies with some prospectors):

but don't you think bub needs to be eating a person's kidney or something?

Bubs needs a thread. There is alot of love for him. ...Well, ok. I can get behind that last one.

I decided to see how the results would change if I didn't use my nom de blog. BINGO! Now this is a list of stuff I really need:

Joe needs to remember that he is vulnerable to anything that gives an emotional uplift

Joe needs your help to find his broccoli!

Joe Needs Your Help!

Joe needs two cracking matches to avoid going down to reserve and he is capable of doing it if everything is right.

Joe needs to be at this year’s All-Star game in Las Vegas (obviously this person heard about my Las Vegas disappointment earlier this year.)

Joe needs to go.

Joe needs to win it all.

Joe needs to shut his browser when leaving for meetings

joe needs his beauty sleep.

JOE Needs Good Commentaries

Joe needs to get to the other side of the chasm where there are only 2 valves

JOE needs to keep his BIG NOSE out of his life.

JOE needs to give you a can of Italian Whoop Ass (Even if I'm not Italian? Why not?!)

Joe needs $7777 to support 4 months of intensive fund-raising

Joe needs to see a win, and catch a break.

Coaster Punchman reveals the man behind the myth

I've gone interview happy.

A couple of weeks ago bombshell CPS teacher Lulu interviewed me, giving me a welcome chance to talk about myself.

Now I get the chance to entertain questions from urban sophisticate Coaster Punchman, the interweb's best-loved strategic sales executive. It's a classic confrontation: a slick member of the east coast elites grilling a simple middle-American cop. C.P. has been busy lately, fielding questions from Beth, Lulu and Melinda June. But he's a multi-tasker, and he's found the time in his busy schedule to send me these questions:

1. Put the following breaches of public decorum in order of how much they annoy you. Compare/contrast.
1. Littering
2. Cutting in line
3. Graffiti (the illegal kind)
4. Spitting on the sidewalk
5. Honking unnecessarily
6. Improper attire (e.g. flip flops at a funeral, or being naked from the waist down while pleasuring oneself in one’s car.)

1-Littering
2-Improper attire
3-Cutting in line
Honking unnecessarily
Graffiti
Spitting on the sidewalk

Littering just pisses me off to no end. It's like a big f*ck you to the whole world, the self-centered desire to have someone else pick up after you writ large. A very close second is improper attire. I remember the days when people dressed up to travel by airplane. I think we all looked classier then. I refuse to own a velour track suit even for joke value. It bugs me to go to a swanky restaurant and see guys sitting there in baseball hats. Don't get me started on fannypacks. The only time a fannypack is permissible is if you're using it to conceal a handgun. I'm also tired of seeing people shamble into church on Sunday wearing short pants and carrying their Starbucks. In my opinion you owe it to the people around you to look as nice as you can.

Cutting in line follows at a distance; it still represents a lack of courtesy, but so many people are driven to distraction by their frantic schedules that they may not notice how rude they're being. The rest are just nuisances, and the person spitting on the sidewalk might be doing it as part of a ritual to ward off a hex, or the evil eye. Can't get mad at that.

2. You are obviously an excellent writer. Do any of your law enforcement friends possess a similar ability to string multiple sentences together in such an entertaining manner? And would you let any of them read your blog?

You are a world class flatterer, aren't you? Other than reports, I've never seen any writing samples from my coworkers. Most of them are excellent conversationalists, though. We spend a lot more time talking than writing.

I haven't shown anyone at work my blog, but it wouldn't bother me if they found it. While I'm not that concerned with concealing my identity, I make a point not to mention my department by name. You never know who's going to take offense, and there have been multiple cases around the country of cops getting disciplined for material they put on their personal web pages. I've never compromised anyone's privacy on here, or mentioned case specifics, so I think I'd be ok.

3. Judy or Barbra?

Judy. Her life was a glorious train wreck; Barbra bores me. Plus, as a young woman, MizBubs bore a more than passing resemblance to the young Judy Garland.

4. Setting aside for a moment the fact that you met a wonderful woman, married her and had lovely children, tell us about one or two of the happiest moments in your life. (Meeting your spouse, marrying her and having kids are out because those answers would be too obvious.)

I've never settled for the easy answers, CP, and I'm glad you don't either.

I thought of a few moments, and checked them with my family to make sure that my happiness was not just in my head, but was visible to others. Here they are, in no particular order:

-When I finished my first Chicago Marathon in 1999. I can't describe the absolute rush that was for me, a 37 year old, overweight, cigar smoking asthmatic with an arthritic knee, to complete that. Granted, I ran like I had a piano on my back, but I finished upright and still running.

-When MizBubs' birth mother died on my birthday in 2001. She was truly one of the worst people I've ever met in my life (and I'm including my professional life). To give you an idea of how bad she was, one of her sons sidled up to me the day of the funeral and said "so, a guy couldn't ask for a better birthday present, huh?" Seriously, though, her passing lifted a dark cloud over our entire extended family, and I was happy to see it.

-When I'm traveling, seeing places I've never been before, especially if I'm outside in a wild place.


5. If you could choose one thing about the world that you would change, what would it be and why?

You know, I've never even thought of that. I suppose I'd like to take all of our cumulative knowledge, save it, and then turn back the clock to the mid-1800's. Hopefully we'd behave better and ravage our earth less if we had a second chance.

Wait. Does that count as more than one thing?

I'm ready for my interview

Lulu ran a cool little "interview thingy" on Monday. Being the blabberous egomaniac that I am, I promptly begged for a chance to be interviewed. A day or so went by, and then, there it was in my email--my interview!

Lulu's questions are in bold type. At the bottom of the post are the rules, and if any of you thoughtful and discerning readers would like to be interviewed by me, ask away.

1. You have a career in law enforcement, and an impressive sideline as America's preeminent narcozoologist, were those your dream careers as a kid, or did you have another career in mind?

My parents tell me that when I was little (3-5 years old) I liked to wear costumes and played elaborate games where I was an explorer, soldier or cowboy. When I got older, like later in grade school, I decided I wanted to be an actor. I'd say I wanted to be an actor all through high school. I had a blast in drama club (GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS), and then my dreams came to a screeching halt when I experienced the mortification of actually auditioning at the Bucks County Playhouse. That was the moment I discovered that being a bullshit artist probably required less discipline than being an actor on stage or screen, and might be just as much fun.

After high school I had notions of being a film maker or photographer, took some classes (dropping out of excellent programs at Columbia College and UIC) and wound up joining the Army National Guard with MizBubs, both of us enlisting as 91-B, Combat Medical Specialists. A wicked throat infection during basic training at Fort Jackson wrecked my singing voice, but I really enjoyed the training and was probably in the best shape of my life. MizBubs and I were lucky enough to serve before the first Gulf War.

I got a job as a photographers assistant at a studio that did work for Sears and JC Penney, and worked my way up to off-figure photographer. The studio went belly-up, and I ended up working as a campus security officer at Loyola University. My brother was in the criminal justice program there and recommended I take the introductory class. It was free, since I worked there, and I really enjoyed it. I started thinking I'd be good at being a cop. Loyola sent me to the Chicago Police Academy after I'd worked there for nearly a year, and I realized I'd like to do municipal law enforcement better than campus policing. I was lucky enough to get hired by the very first department I tested with.

Almost 19 years later, here I am. I sometimes regret not being a smoke-jumper or celebrity chef, but I'm pretty happy with where I've ended up.

2. Are most officers of the law bourbon-swilling, Tom Jones-loving, punk rock dudes like yourself, or are you an anomaly within the law enforcement community?


No, and not really. To some extent I'm an anomaly in every community I'm part of: I'm either the most liberal, non-confrontational and tolerant person in a group of conservatives, or the most right-wing, gun-happy and bigoted person in a group of liberals.

Cops are a far more diverse group than we were 20 years ago, by the way, but I think we tend to run more to former metal heads than former punks. There are 6 detectives and 2 detective sergeants, ranging in age from 30-44. Only one of them other than me is a Tom Jones fan. Most of the younger guys are vodka or rum drinkers; I stand alone as a committed bourbon enthusiast.

Of the 8 of us, 2 have college degrees, 2 are close to getting them, and 2 more have about 30-60 hours of credit. There's one former Army National Guard member, one former Marine, and one Army Iraq war veteran. 6 of us are married, 5 with kids, and two are single.

3. You seem to have a great relationship with your daughters, what are your parenting secrets?

Fear.

Not really, I just liked saying that. First off, we made up our minds when our kids were born to not listen to all the negative stuff people would say about having kids:

"I was in back labor 35 hours and then the doctor botched the episiotomy and I had an emergency c-section and puked from the anaesthesia."

"You won't get any sleep for 2 years."

"Just wait until they hit the terrible twos, all they say is 'NO'"

"Just wait until they go to school and start acting like all their friends, they won't be your child any more."

"Just wait until they hit middle school."

"Just wait until they hit their teens."

And so on. We ignored all those warnings and resolved early on to see the entertainment value in all the goofy and frequently infuriating things a kid was bound to do, and that made things easier.

4. You live in the suburb I grew up in, I hated it and left as soon as I could, yet you made the decision to live there of your own free will. Why would anyone make the choice to live in Mt. Plastic?


I made my one off-duty arrest in the spring of 1990, driving east on Montrose from Pulaski on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I thought I was driving up on a block party, judging from the crowd. Turns out the crowd had gathered to watch a shirtless drunken hillbilly cave in the skull of another drunken hillbilly with a Louisville Slugger baseball bat. Around the same time there was a drive-by shooting on the steps of a church near our house that killed two kids; MizBubs used to walk by there all the time on her way to one of the markets. So we decided to move. I didn't want to live in the town I worked in, and we couldn't afford to to move to one of the neighborhoods like Edison Park that were still in Chicago. We kind of went north and west until we found a combination of a house we could afford and a school district we liked. Ironically, we ended up homeschooling our kids for several years anyway, and had we stayed in our house in Chicago I'd be sitting on a half-million dollar bag of money right now. Who knew?

Our kids are grateful that they got to spend their entire childhood in the same house in the same town, but they both hate Mt Prospect and can't wait to move away. If I were a kid I'd feel the same way. Heck, I can't wait to move away from here either, but the reality is that this has been a good place to us these past 17 years.

5. If you had to pick, would you live in Florida or Germany?


Whew, tough one. Back in the 80's I always wanted to live in Berlin. I would have loved to live in Florida back in the 20's or 30's, and if I had unlimited funds I could easily see living in the Keys for much of the year. But I'll have to go with Germany. Old castles, Oktoberfest and good beer beat the hell out of ugly sun-baked sprawl and spring break any day.


Want some questions of your own? Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me!”


I will respond by e-mailing you five questions (if your email is not on your profile, email me your desire to be interviewed so I know your address). I get to pick them, and you have to answer them all.


You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.


You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.


When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.