Michigan

The whisper of the forest tree,
The thunder of the inland sea;
Unite in one grand symphony
Of Michigan, my Michigan.

Sometimes the only sensible thing to do is pack up quickly and bug out into the woods for a few days. So that's what I did. I had to find a place that was:

• Less than a 5 hour drive
• Near water
• Not brutally hot
• Dog-friendly
• Not overly developed, so I'd have the opportunity to walk around and feel like I was in the middle of nowhere.

At first the plan was just for me and Duffy to go, but then our eldest heard me discussing it and asked if she could come with! I would be able to talk with someone who could actually talk back (no slight intended to my dog.) I went from deciding I was going to go away on Friday night, to picking a spot and leaving by Monday morning. This was not typical behavior for me.

I usually plan camping trips the same way I'd plan a tactical operation. Lots of checklists and satellite images and mapping and contingencies for worst-case scenarios. I have a little voice in my head that drives me and tells me that being unprepared is the worst sign of weakness. I make rules for myself that I'd never expect anyone else to follow, and set rigid timetables. I have thought, at times, that there's no need to be so hard on myself. Then the little voice usually pipes up and says that's pussy talk, and that a big problem with the way the world is today is that too many people aren't nearly as hard on themselves as they should be. I can get pretty tightly wound.

The end result of all this is that my family came to dread having to be around me on the morning we leave for a trip. I had become an anxiety-ridden travel asshole, sucking the joy out of what should be a fun and exciting moment--setting out on a journey. Taking the joy out of traveling--now that's sinful. I was mortified when I realized this had happened.

No more. I resolved to to change my ways, and setting out on a 290 mile trip to a place I'd never visited, with a minimum of planning, did the trick. We ended up going to the Lake Michigan Recreation Area in the Huron-Manistee National Forest. The area is directly adjacent to the Nordhouse Dunes Wilderness Area, so it's possible to walk along mile after mile of undeveloped beach, which is what we ended up doing.

How good can a trip be? Can the drive be perfect and relaxing, free of traffic jams and bad weather? Can the campsite be clean, spacious, beautiful and quiet, and can everyone you meet there be friendly and kind? Could I get all the gear together and pack the car without swearing and muttering under my breath like Popeye? The answer to all those questions is a wonderful "yes." We talked about everything and nothing, sat around, did a little sightseeing, and I worked on my red neck and farmer's tan.

Here's what else we did:

We made a nice camp



We ate well. This is Tuesday morning's breakfast--coffee and potatoes fried in leftover fat from Monday night's sausage, onion and potato stew.

We hiked through the woods



Learned that wild turkey is not just a delicious bourbon

Spent hours walking along the beach, wading and swimming

We threw a tennis ball into the surf over and over until Duffy collapsed on the sand, happily exhausted. You can see my eldest down there by the shoreline, frolicking in the lake.

We saw only 4 or 5 people in three hours hiking along the beach.

Someone put a lot of effort into this

I'm sure I'll head back there for some backpacking and canoing in the future, but I'll do some more car camping first. Planning all the perfect wilderness trips, full of long hikes and solitude, mean nothing if you never get it together to go.

_____________________

On the drive back we talked about doing a brief travel piece called "Michigan: Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down?"

Leading off, a big thumbs-up for Little River Casino! Their ad on the back of the Manistee County visitor's guide features this swanky tableau:



This happy couple is clearly having a good time at the blackjack table, even though they are apparently down to their last few chips. The woman has that beautiful northwoods "I've gotten horribly sunburned drinking Busch beer on a rented pontoon boat but I'll slather on flesh-toned moisturizer and frosty blue eye shadow to deal with it" look about her. Check out the tan line on her forearms. You'll also note that the casino, sparing no expense, has a "full service" RV park.

Not long after we saw this ad, we drove around and did some sightseeing. Next thing you know, we were right in front of the casino, and we discovered another reason to love this place: Polka Dance Party Mondays! We saw this blinking on the giant animated sign in front, and before we could even formulate a plan to sneak in my underage daughter, the sign changed. As if this place could even become more awesome, the sign now read "Night Ranger August 22". I can't tell you anything, really, about what this casino, its hotel, restaurants or entertainment is like since I didn't go in. But I still give it a big thumbs-up!

Another thumbs-up for the civic pride of Manistee. They've lined the main street through town with flowers:



A really, really big thumbs-up for the shoreline of Lake Michigan. Chicago really is at the ass end of Lake Michigan. The sand was nearly white and squeaky when you walked on it, and the water was clear. The smell of garbage, B.O., diapers and dead fish was notably absent, unlike Chicago's beaches.

Friendly people get another thumbs-up.

Thumbs down for the lack of any recognizable regional cuisine. Likewise, another thumbs-down for lack of a recognizable charming regional accent. I mean, come on, once I drive north for a few hours and I'm surrounded by pine trees, I want a few "you betcha's" or "yer darn tootin's" thrown around by the locals.

A vigorous thumbs down for the Michigan left turn. I had forgotten what a tremendously random pain-in-the-ass these were. For those of you unfamiliar with Michigan's gift to traffic engineering, the Michigan left goes as follows:

• You approach the intersection at which you intend to turn left
• You drive through the intersection
• A few hundred yards down the road, well past the place you wanted to turn left, you get into a left turn lane
• You swing your car out in front of oncoming traffic, executing a U-turn
• You frantically swerve across as many lanes as necessary to get into the right turn lane
• You turn right onto the street you originally wanted to turn left on.

I was going to give Michigan a thumbs-down for its bad classic rock stations, but really every state in the nation gets a thumbs-down for that.

Not sure if it's a thumbs-up or thumbs-down:

The town of Holland, Michigan, has a street called Felch Street.


View Larger Map

The upper peninsula also has a Felch Mountain and a Felch Township. One wonders if the residents are known as felchers.

Sunday morning coffee

I fell asleep last night earlier than planned, passing my half-finished Old Fashioned to MizBubs as I lurched up from the couch and headed for bed. Long week.

This morning I was awakened by the sound of the girls talking, loudly, and water running in the upstairs bathroom. In my fog I thought it was around 4 or 5 am and that the girls had stayed up late watching movies. Before I barked out at them I managed to focus on the clock and saw that it was 7:50 am.

They were up early, getting ready to go to the Bristol Renaissance Faire together. Once I realized that the noise was actually my two daughters, who get along famously with each other, up early and talking while they showered and got ready for their day, I couldn't bark. Instead, I had to get up and make coffee for them.



A little while later they were off down the front walk, ready to bear witness to lord only knows what kind of freakery up in Wisconsin. It was all I could do not to give them a spare handgun for the trip.

And so, if we're lucky, this is how it goes: your beautiful and competent children walking away from you, and you standing there, looking forward like crazy to their return.

Law enforcement quote of the week

"We want people to like our officers, but not to lick them."

Freeport, Texas Police Chief Jeff Pynes, referring to an incident involving an arrestee named Ryan Halverson. Halverson, pictured above, was being booked for public intoxication when he leaned forward and licked Sgt. Jay Newton on the face. Halverson evidently found Sgt. Newton to be tasty, because he tried to lick him a second time before the sergeant stepped out of the way.

Chief Pynes went on to say that since the incident, Sgt. Newton has been getting "a lot of ribbing from fellow officers."

"He's been getting a lot of lollypops in his internal mail..."

Weenie-Waver Wednesday!

Nothing starts off a weenie-waver Wednesday like a celebrity arrest.

Melinda June posted about the hilariously-named c-lister Andy Dick and his most recent arrest. Even though she beat me to it, the story bears recounting if only because of the opportunity to display what is now my favorite celebrity mugshot:

Alcohol was involved. And, apparently, so was a little weed and some Xanax. Mr. Dick had already encountered the police earlier that evening, and was warned to leave the area or face arrest for public intoxication. Instead he decided to grab a 17 year old girl's boobs and yank her top down, exposing her. Stay classy, Mr. Dick.

We sail tonight for Singapore: Mohammed Ismail Ariffin was sentenced to 14 years in prison, and caned 18 times. Why? Because he was convicted of being a serial armpit-sniffer, victimizing 23 women ranging in age from 9 to 53. To give you an idea of how enthusiastic an armpit sniffer he was, police identified him from the DNA he left at the scene of one encounter. He also did some fondling and exposing of his private parts.

Police in West Reading, PA, encountered 38 year old John Messerly as they investigated reports of a naked man running along the road. As police encounters with naked men so often end, Messerly got some pepper spray and a tasering before he was taken into custody.



According to witnesses, Messerly was scene climbing out of the driver's window and onto the roof of a moving van shortly before it crashed. In interviews with police, Messerly denied climbing onto the roof, and said he was thrown out the window while trying to adjust some lumber that had come loose inside the van. Once he was thrown clear he removed all his clothes because "he was in shock and wanted to see if he had any internal injuries." He also mentioned that he had smoked some crack cocaine the night before and had not slept since.

Florida will not be denied! Police in Boca Raton are searching for a naked man driving around in a maroon sedan and exposing himself to girls on bicycles.

Show me state: Freddie Eugene Philpott, 52, of Washburn, Missouri, faces multiple charges from police in Arkansas and Missouri. He drove his Jeep over a curb, nearly striking several people, and stopped near a group of "special needs" students. He then offered some of the students $20 to help him move some scrap metal. An alert teacher noticed that Mr. Philpott was only wearing underwear, and called police.

In the weeks leading up to this incident, Freddie Philpott had also been arrested or reported to police for attempting to solicit children into his car, driving while intoxicated, crashing his car while driving naked, stalking a mentally handicapped neighbor, and driving naked while masturbating.

While alcohol was involved, so was mental illness, according to Phipott's attorney:

Philpott's attorney, John Mikesch, filed a motion seeking to have Philpott released from the Benton County Jail and transferred to a mental-health facility in Nixa, Mo...

Mikesch said Philpott has a history of mental illness and has been declared a disabled and incapacitated person by the 39 th Judicial Circuit Court in Cassville, Mo. Philpott has been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type; substance abuse; mixed personality disorder; and an additional undiagnosed psychosis, according to court documents. Philpott is also described as mildly mentally retarded with a learning disability, court documents state.

More naked driving, with rage:



38 year old Rachel Hansen of Midvale, Utah, rammed the car of a couple of guys who were out looking for a cat. She rammed their car twice, then got out of her car to argue with them. Naked. They grabbed her keys and she chased a young girl into a nearby house. Naked Rachel kicked the door in and then waited for police inside the home. Much of this event was captured on a neighbor's security camera, and you can see some fun video here.

Oh, Canada: "Ridge Meadows RCMP got a call that a naked man had stolen a pair of coveralls and a five-tonne truck from a farm in Maple Ridge and driven off..."

I won't say too much about this next story. While technically occurring within the privacy of her own home, the fact that this story contains Okies and "crimes against nature" meant that I had to include it.

This here is Diane Sue Whalen.



Think of the most mortifying situation you can think of. Say, accidentally walking in on your parents knocking boots, or your kid finding your toy box, or the most embarrassing moment from a Ben Stiller movie, and then multiply that by a bazillion.

Think about your kid, who is house sitting for you and taking care of your dogs, finding your stash of "193 CD-ROMs and DVDs, 67 VHS tapes, 12 cassette tapes, two floppy discs, two computer flash drives and one photo album" all allegedly showing Ms. Whalen getting busy with her dogs. The son, reeling from lord only knows what kind of psychic trauma at that point, and probably requiring medical treatment for painful burning eyeballs, turned the material over to the police.

You read that correctly. The dogs are now in protective custody and have been neutered to prepare them for adoption.

And, finally, this. Jeffrey Bradford, a pilot for Pinnacle Airlines, and Adriana Connor, a flight attendant for the same company, were both arrested in Pennsylvania. The couple decided to get busy in the woods on their way back to their motel. At some point during the proceedings Bradford wandered off, naked. Ms. Connor ended up sitting in a Chevy Tahoe parked at the home of the local fire chief, and when the chief investigated Connor told him there was a naked man in the woods.

Bradford was arrested after he turned up in someone's backyard requesting a pair of shorts. He was taken into custody wearing a pair of flip-flops and a wristwatch, in perfect porno style except for his lack of black gold-toe socks.

Alcohol was involved in a big way. Bradford and Connor are pictured here as they appeared in court. Note that Ms. Connor is hiding behind the brown paper evidence bag used to store prisoner property, a nice touch.

From the Sunshine State

Truly, Florida is a land of riches.

As I've said before on these pages, I seek not merely to incarcerate, but also to lift up and educate. As part of that goal, I've decided to take the occasional story that might be used in a Germany or Florida quiz, post it and discuss its story elements. This might give readers a heightened understanding of factors used to determine the origin of a Germany or Florida story.

Meet 33 year old Patrick Shane Johnson.



Johnson was arrested for committing two bank robberies in the same day.

Now, if you just take that information, you'd probably say it was a Florida story, since bank robberies are more likely to occur in Florida than in Germany. Now, let me add some information:

By the time he did the second robbery the police already had a warrant for his arrest and were looking for him. Why? Because he wrote the demand notes on the backs of checks from his personal bank account. The police ran a name check and matched the picture from his drivers license to the surveillance video from the bank.

While he fled the first robbery (at around 10 am) in an unknown car driven by another man, he used a taxi for the second job. The taxi was driven by Dan the Taxi man, who was apparently unaware of the robbery. When the police caught Johnson after the second robbery at 3:46 pm, he had to go to the hospital "complaining of a high heart rate." That high heart rate was probably from all the crack he smoked.

Remember, gun play=Florida. So does poor planning--Floridians are addled from the heat and sun, and often intoxicated on crack cocaine and Busch beer, whereas Germans are generally more efficient. If I had given the name of the police spokeswoman, Sgt. Angy Scroble, that would've totally given away the story as Florida.

Well, that's all for today. See you soon.

Answers to Monday's multiple choice quiz

d) A dog with low-self esteem who'll do anything to make people happy



c) MizBubs' hand after cleaning and sorting an entire case of black raspberries



b) A closeup from a makeup test done by our eldest titled "But it's only when he's drinking."

_____________________

Now, unfortunately, some bad news.

Japanese popular culture provides me with a pretty good amount of entertainment, both of the intentional and unintentional variety. Over the past couple of years I've gotten some good stories from the Mainichi Daily News.

You can imagine my disappointment when, while preparing for this week's Weenie Waver Wednesday, I clicked on my bookmarked web link and found this:

The Mainichi Newspapers Co., Ltd. continued to post extremely inappropriate articles in the WaiWai column of the Mainichi Daily News (MDN), its English Web site. We have reported the results of an in-house investigation into the case on Pages 22 and 23 of the July 20 morning edition of the Mainichi Shimbun.

We continued to post articles that contained incorrect information about Japan and indecent sexual content. These articles, many of which were not checked, should not have been dispatched to Japan or the world. We apologize deeply for causing many people trouble and for betraying the public's trust in the Mainichi Shimbun.

"Incorrect information about Japan and indecent sexual content"? And the problem with that was...what, exactly? Oh well. You can read the whole apology here.

It will be a somber Tuesday here at the Compound.

Multiple choice

Pictured above is:

a) A space alien
b) A ferocious bog monster
c) A fruit bat
d) A dog with low-self esteem who'll do anything to make people happy



Pictured above is:

a) MizBubs' hand after a gardening accident
b) A film clip from a little known Giallo movie
c) MizBubs' hand after cleaning and sorting an entire case of black raspberries
d) MizBubs' hand after a makeup test by our eldest.



Pictured above is:

a) Our eldest after a rock climbing accident
b) A closeup from a makeup test done by our eldest titled "But it's only when he's drinking."
c) A photo I brought home from an old case file at work
d) A clip from the movie Truck Stop Women

What a weekend

What a weekend.

On Saturday MizBubs and I visited the Midwest Fiber & Folk Art Fair at McHenry College. She bought some wool, I bought some hiking socks made from alpaca, and we met some interesting people who run small goat farms. We've been stepping up the research into learning what it will take to get out of where we're at, and into that rural compound we've been dreaming of. It was great talking with some people who've actually done it and are making a living at small sustainable farming. The event was livened up by the presence of the Barehand Jug Band. You know I was happy when I turned a corner and heard the magic combination of tuba and spoons. I turned to an older gent who was enjoying the show, and we mentioned that the only thing missing was a washboard. 10 minutes later I walked by and sure enough, they had an adorable girl playing a washboard. Nice kids, good music.

After the fair we headed out to Grayslake and spent the next few hours catching up with some good friends who (I'm almost ashamed to say this) we haven't seen in a couple of years. It was like we'd just visited last week, and next thing it was 1 am and time to go home. We drove home through a beautiful thunderstorm and collapsed into bed happy.

On Sunday we got to meet Katy aka Dino and her man Grumpy, who stopped by while they were in town for a wedding. The visit was good, but too short. I realized too late that I was a horrible host--I thought it would be nice to sit out in the screen house, and it didn't occur to me until over an hour later that it was too hot and humid to comfortably sit outside. The swamp dweller in me was oblivious to the discomfort of our guests until it was almost time for them to go. Please come back Katy, I promise we can sit in the air conditioning next time.

Later that afternoon we were visited by jet-setting expatriate Lulu. Back on her winter vacation Lulu gifted us with a bottle of Thai whisky, so I invented a drink for the occasion:

The Muay Thai Fizz

-2 shots of unknown Thai whiskey



-2 shots of lime juice

Pour in a tall glass full of ice, top with tonic water and garnish with a sprig of mint. Fizzy and refreshing, and if you drink more than two you'll feel like you climbed in the ring and got kicked in the head. Invigorating.

Later we chowed down on pork and pie. Pork tenderloin wrapped in herbs and bacon, steamed new potatoes with fresh pesto, and a lemon chess pie, with black raspberry compote whipped up by MizBubs.



Mmmmm. Pie.

Tomorrow it's jury duty for my better half, and a physical exam and back to work for me. Happy trails!

Germany or Florida: and the dog day edition winner is

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a tie!

Longtime blog pal Johnny Yen and relative newcomer Eebie have tied for first place with an impressive 14 correct answers each. Second place goes to Canadian vixen Barbara of Bad Tempered Zombie.

We have a four-way tie for third place with 10 correct answers each. Tenacious S nearly grabbed the number 3 spot for herself, but misjudged the nature of question 17. Cap'n Ergo played the bold "all Florida" gambit, and the blogger to whom I owe everything, Melinda June, let solo possession of third place slip through her fingers with the equally bold "Wisconsin" ploy. Finally, Beckeye slipped in with a last-minute entry that I caught just as I was going through my Google news alerts before bedtime.

Well done, all of you!

And now, on to the answers...

_____________________

The eldest and I had a long conversation about the intuitive skills needed to determine whether a story hails from Germany or Florida. It's not a science, it's an art. As I've stated before, here and here, there are often subtle cultural clues that you can look for. For instance:

Sausage=Germany
Crack cocaine=Florida
Fetish or weird sex=Germany
Nudity=Germany
Cannibalism and/or body parts=Germany (Is this where Wisconsin gets it?)
Domestic violence=Florida
Pitbulls and/or gunplay=Florida
Religious zealotry=Florida
Incest and morbid obesity can go either way.

These are useful guidelines, but as you'll see they're not always reliable. Some times you just have to go with your gut.

1) A man was convicted of sending unsolicited photos of his penis via cell phone to a woman. The investigation did not reveal any reason for the digital gift. GERMANY

2) Police found a bag of crack cocaine concealed in the folds of belly fat on a 400 pound man. FLORIDA



Granted, in that black tee shirt and jacket combo he does have kind of a euro-trash Bond villain look to him, but with the crack cocaine he's all Florida, baby!

3) A woman arrested for drunk driving was also cited for not securing her 1 year old child in a car seat. Her beer was safely buckled in, though. FLORIDA

I was really happy to see that everyone got this one correct. I mean, come on.

4) Police investigated a domestic disturbance after an angry anti-smoker used a fire extinguisher to put out his girlfriend's cigarette. GERMANY

5) Two bartenders were convicted for serving at least 44 shots of tequila to a 16 year old boy, leading to his death. GERMANY

The article also mentioned schnapps, but if I'd included that it would have been a dead giveaway as a Germany story. Or maybe Wisconsin.

6) This group of soldiers has become flabby and unfit. GERMANY

7) A woman was accused of sexually assaulting her daughter with a chili pepper after beating her with an iron and and the iron's cord. FLORIDA

Tough call--the creepy sex says Germany, but the chili pepper and domestic violence say Florida.

8) A police officer was attacked by a group of 50-75 bystanders at a water park when he tried to arrest a teenager. FLORIDA

Do they have water parks in Germany? Now, if the story had said "police officer attacked by a group of 50-75 nudists"... then you might have to go for Germany as your answer.

9) A woman trying to steal cow manure fell into the manure pit and fled the scene. Naked. GERMANY

10) A woman battered her boyfriend with a toilet seat after she caught him smoking rock cocaine in the bathroom. FLORIDA

Again, classic Florida: crack cocaine + domestic violence.

11) A 46 year old man was arrested for striking his mother in the head with three pounds of sausage during an argument. FLORIDA

Now this was a tricky one. Normally sausage=Germany, but Florida generally leads in the domestic violence category.

12) A woman called police to her home after her "increasingly intoxicated" friend wouldn't stop talking to her about her personal problems...for 30 hours. GERMANY

See, Europeans are more polite. No way a Floridian would've lasted that long without turning a pit bull loose on the friend, or shooting her.

13) A man lost money at a strip club and called police. He was not satisfied with the response, so he called again and asked for different officers to respond. He was arrested. FLORIDA FLORIDA FLORIDA

Strip club=Florida. They have brothels in Germany, so there's not as big a need to blow your money on lap dances. Also, there's something uniquely Floridian about calling the police on yourself.

14) Ten military projectiles and an air-to-ground rocket were discovered on the grounds of a school. Other WWII era munitions have been discovered in the area in the past, and now everyone's wondering how much other unexploded ordinance is buried underneath all the homes that were built in the area. FLORIDA

OK, this was a trick question.

15) A car thief, attempting to escape police, drove his car into a field and bailed out. He ran into nearby woods in an attempt to escape, but was attacked by wild pigs and captured by police. GERMANY

16) Police discovered a man sitting in his van, in a wooded area, behaving suspiciously. When he gave permission to search the van, police found a collection of women's sonograms, a blond wig, rope, knives and a machete. And 18 human teeth in a film canister. FLORIDA



Another tricky one. Creepy guy in a van with knives and rope and a wig says Florida, but the collection of human teeth says Germany. Or maybe Wisconsin.

17) A man committed a robbery, and as he left the scene accepted a lift from some strangers. The strangers robbed the man, and he reported the theft of his theft proceeds to police, and got himself arrested. FLORIDA FLORIDA FLORIDA

See # 13 above. The lovely and intelligent Tenacious S read a little too much into this one. She interpreted the bad guy's actions as hitch hiking, which led her to guess Germany. Not an unreasonable conclusion, but put yourself, if you will, in the Floridian mindset. The robber comes out of the 7-11, sees some kindred spirits hanging around the parking lot, maybe drinking a 40 or hitting the pipe, or just letting their pit bulls out of the truck to take a leak. He thinks he's gotten lucky, because of course he didn't plan his robbery far enough in advance to include a getaway car. The people he approaches smell his desperation and promptly victimize him. Florida 7-11 parking lots are a Hobbesian nightmare like that.

_____________________

Thanks for playing everybody. Have a great weekend!

Germany or Florida: dog days edition

Let's get down to business.

It's been a few months, and that's just too darn long. I'll go over the rules for those of you who haven't played before:

-Read each story
-Determine if the story originates in Germany or Florida
-Post your choices in the comments section. I'll post the winners on Friday.

And now, without further ado, Germany or Florida:

1) A man was convicted of sending unsolicited photos of his penis via cell phone to a woman. The investigation did not reveal any reason for the digital gift.

2) Police found a bag of crack cocaine concealed in the folds of belly fat on a 400 pound man.

3) A woman arrested for drunk driving was also cited for not securing her 1 year old child in a car seat. Her beer was safely buckled in, though.

4) Police investigated a domestic disturbance after an angry anti-smoker used a fire extinguisher to put out his girlfriend's cigarette.

5) Two bartenders were convicted for serving at least 44 shots of tequila to a 16 year old boy, leading to his death.

6) This group of soldiers has become flabby and unfit.

7) A woman was accused of sexually assaulting her daughter with a chili pepper after beating her with an iron and and the iron's cord.

8) A police officer was attacked by a group of 50-75 bystanders at a water park when he tried to arrest a teenager.

9) A woman trying to steal cow manure fell into the manure pit and fled the scene. Naked.

10) A woman battered her boyfriend with a toilet seat after she caught him smoking rock cocaine in the bathroom.

11) A 46 year old man was arrested for striking his mother in the head with three pounds of sausage during an argument.

12) A woman called police to her home after her "increasingly intoxicated" friend wouldn't stop talking to her about her personal problems...for 30 hours.

13) A man lost money at a strip club and called police. He was not satisfied with the response, so he called again and asked for different officers to respond. He was arrested.

14) Ten military projectiles and an air-to-ground rocket were discovered on the grounds of a school. Other WWII era munitions have been discovered in the area in the past, and now everyone's wondering how much other unexploded ordinance is buried underneath all the homes that were built in the area.

15) A car thief, attempting to escape police, drove his car into a field and bailed out. He ran into nearby woods in an attempt to escape, but was attacked by wild pigs and captured by police.

16) Police discovered a man sitting in his van, in a wooded area, behaving suspiciously. When he gave permission to search the van, police found a collection of women's sonograms, a blond wig, rope, knives and a machete. And 18 human teeth in a film canister.

17) A man committed a robbery, and as he left the scene accepted a lift from some strangers. The strangers robbed the man, and he reported the theft of his theft proceeds to police, and got himself arrested.

Family time, overtime and virgin birth

First, MizBubs, dynamic homemaker, baked a delicious blueberry pie.

Then we found out that her brother would be in town from San Antonio to watch her nephew compete in a bike race. We had a great visit, and he helped us drink some of our surplus beer and sangria left over from the 5th.

Then came the overtime, only a few hours of it though. I work for a smaller department. We normally have two detective sergeants and six detectives, but we've been short a detective since last September. My fellow sergeant just left for NY on vacation, one of the detectives is on vacation in Puerto Rico, another detective is on light duty after falling backwards out of a chair onto a concrete floor, and another is detached to a burglary task force for the next week. My Nextel started chirping Saturday morning, so I went in for a few hours to help deal with a couple of situations that turned out to not be so bad after all: one of our local gang members alleged he got slashed on the hand by his girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, and a local business received a death threat from an ex-employee.

The Fry Daddy came out this weekend and got used for scallops and catfish. I got some decent fresh scallops, and here's what I did with them:

-rolled them in flour seasoned with creole spices
-dipped them in a beaten egg
-rolled them in panko
-threw em in the fryer for about 3 minutes

They nearly doubled in size, and were amazingly flavorful and tender.



MizBubs, gentlewoman farmer, harvested green beans, lettuce, radishes and nasturtium, and all that green was a welcome counterpart to the fried seafood and the sweet potato fries. Then we settled in and watched movies all night. First up was the surprisingly funny and kind-hearted Superbad (favorite line: "You just cock blocked McLovin!") followed by George Romero's Diary of the Dead.

Sunday was a beautiful day, and the occasion for my newest niece's baptism. The service was wonderful, and their priest did a fine sermon. Plus, after seeing the baby welcomed into their faith community, my brother treated us all to a fine fried chicken dinner at White Fence Farm. I knew right away that I'd like the place when I saw a giant fiberglass rooster at the front entrance. The fried chicken was outstanding.

This was occasion for my first foray into a Catholic church in several months--we've been struggling between a return to the Catholicism of our upbringing and re-committing to the liberal American Baptist congregation where we've attended church for over a decade. I won't get into a long discussion about the relative merits of the two experiences, but I will say this--when did short pants and your cleanest Sox jersey become acceptable attire for church? When did people just start holding fairly audible and obvious conversations throughout the service?

I'm sure it's not like this with fundamentalists, but at the two R.C. churches and the American Baptist church I've attended I've seen people chewing gum, walking in with go cups of coffee, and looking like they're on their way to a picnic or a ball game, not a house of worship. And don't give me that "it's not important how you look, it's that you care enough to go" nonsense either. The coffee-slurping, shorts-wearing church goers in both congregations definitely gave off the vibe of shuffling through an obligation more than making a joyful noise, believe me. But I'm just an asshole who has no right to comment anyway, since more Sundays than not I just sleep in.

My eldest describes herself as an atheist (I remember those days--I described myself the same way in my late teens) but has a highly-developed sense of propriety when it comes to church-going. This is what she said in regards to the carelessly dressed:

"I may not believe, but at least I respect."

_________________________

Which brings me to the virgin birth. No, not that one.

Our female cockatiel Daisy laid an egg. There is no mister cockatiel in her life, and this was the second egg she's laid in the past 2 weeks.

Turns out that female cockatiels, if they feel comfortable enough in their environment, can just spontaneously produce and lay eggs. Sometimes they develop a freaky attachment to a favorite toy in their cage and get busy with it. MizBubs, girl genius, knew about this since she actually reads books. She also knew what to do about it.

It turns out that virgin egg-laying is not healthy for the bird. It can deplete calcium and harm them if it continues. So, after the first egg, MizBubs put Daisy in another cage and moved that cage to the tiki bar for a few days while she cleaned out and changed the toys in the original cage. After a week or two Daisy was returned to her re-arranged cage, and promptly swelled up and laid another egg. I guess she's really happy and comfortable.



And now it's time to return to the work week. I will leave you with dog pictures.

Random ten with a side of spam

First the random ten:

Baby Come Back—Pat Cupp & his Flying Saucers

Get Down On It—Kool & the Gang

Andy’s Chest—Lou Reed

1969—The Stooges

Sunday Morning—The Velvet Underground

Teachers and Adrenochrome—The Sisters of Mercy

Haiti—Arcade Fire

Eve Future—The Mekons

Dancing Barefoot—Patti Smith Group

Patricia—Perez Prado

And now for the side of spam:

Alabama girl butchers neighbor with fruit knife, Man gives birth to twins in Minnesota...
-Ehrenberg

Looks like some spambot was reading my blog.

Who is this guy?

Your results:
You are Will Riker

Will Riker 75% Worf 65% James T. Kirk (Captain) 65% An Expendable Character (Redshirt) 55% Geordi LaForge 50% Beverly Crusher 50% Jean-Luc Picard 50% Uhura 50% Deanna Troi 40% Mr. Scott 40% Mr. Sulu 40% Spock 37% Chekov 35% Data 27% Leonard McCoy (Bones) 20%

At times you are self-centered but you have many friends. You love many women, but the right woman could get you to settle down.

Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Test


According to the "Which Star Trek Character Are You?" quiz that I found over at J. Yen's place, it's me. I'm Will Riker.

Can someone who has seen an episode of Star Trek within the past 20 years let me know if this is a good thing or a bad thing?

Thanks.

Best science headline all week

Are you ready? Here it is:

Cow farts collected in plastic tank for global warming study

I did not make that up, go ahead and click on the link.

In other related science news, a study in Japan tells us that eating beef is "less green than driving". According to the study, "producing 2.2 pounds of beef generates as much greenhouse gas as driving a car non-stop for three hours".

What I want to know is, when will they have the numbers on bacon production?

The barbed wire between the sheep and the wolves

That's how a chaplain described the role of the police at yesterday's funeral for slain Chicago Police Officer Richard Francis.

"The barbed wire between the sheep and the wolves."

I like that.

I think most of us cops, when things are difficult, when we feel worn down, can remind ourselves of the role we are meant to play--to protect good people from predators, to provide comfort and assistance to victims, and to do what we can to hopefully make our communities safer places.

Unfortunately, like barbed wire, we're prickly. We're not always as courteous or polite as we should be, and we can seem a little hostile to people who don't know us. While barbed wire keeps the wolves at bay, the sheep don't like getting too close to it either.

Every job, I suppose, places its mark on people who do it, but I think policing marks you more than most other professions. 21 years ago I was working as a campus security officer at Loyola University, on the lake shore campus. Another guard and I were escorting a creepy guy who'd been causing a disturbance out of the library, and he started to fight with us. My partner, an older man, suffered a broken ankle, and the Chicago Police came and arrested the bad guy, who it turns out was batshit crazy.

A few weeks later I had to go to court at Belmont & Western. I looked around at all the cops that were there, and my first thought was how tired and world-weary they all looked. Years of working rotating shifts or strange hours, lack of sleep, going to court on days off, working side jobs. All that fast food eaten too fast in the front seat of a car, all that coffee to stay alert, and occasionally (or, unfortunately for some, frequently) too much booze to take the edge off. The constant suspicion and vigilance. Being reminded of your own mortality every day when you go to work and the first thing you do is put on a vest that's meant to stop bullets. After a while your skin doesn't look so good, your eyes look kind of baggy or puffy, and god knows we put on some weight and we're not even sure how it happens. We tend to drink more than we should and talk and laugh a little too loudly and harshly when we're in groups.

But we are loyal, and even though we bitch and moan more than any other group of people I've ever encountered, we love each other like brothers and sisters even when we don't really know each other. I can go anywhere in the United States, meet a brother or sister officer, and know that we have had common experiences and hours worth of stuff to talk about.

On Sunday, after cleaning up a little around the house, I put on a suit and tie and went to Cooney Funeral Home to pay my respects. My plan was to get there at the beginning of the wake, at noon, before the crowds came.

I got there at 12:10 and the line was already down the block. It took me an hour to get inside. There were officers there from all over Illinois, in uniforms and dress uniforms. Officers in plainclothes who were on duty, and guys like me who threw on a suit and tie and came from home. As I walked up to the chapel, a group of about 20 high-ranking Chicago Fire Department brass came out, heads bowed. Two friends of mine got there before me and passed me on their way out, so I stood in line by myself, thinking. And listening--there were great conversations going in the rope line. I heard old friends catching up on family news, people asking after each other's health, former partners talking about their new assignments. Life-affirming conversations being held in defiance of the grief everyone felt at the loss of Officer Francis.

And some of the conversations were fairly amusing:

"Hey, where you drinking at nowadays?"

"I'm not"

"You're not? You quit?"

"Yeah, well, I couldn't afford to drive to the tavern any more."

"No shit? You don't go out any more? What about at home?"

"Ah, the wife doesn't like it when I drink at home, so, you know..."

"Good for you."

There was one guy behind me who had 11 days left until his retirement. I heard parts of a few other retirement conversations. Some younger guys were talking about babies and child care.

Once I got inside I was faced with a collection of photos of Officer Francis. Pictures of him with his dogs, a goofy picture of him in a long dark wig, pictures of him barbecuing. Someone had placed a Buzz Lightyear action figure in the coffin with him. God forbid it ever happened, but my family, and the families of the guys I work with, could all find plenty of pictures like that. I started smiling as I looked at them all, and then choked up. I got through the rest of it without embarrassing myself and made my way back out into the sun, where the line of mourners had doubled.

The diversity of the mourners was amazing. I'd say a good number of the officers I saw there were probably not on the job in 2002, the last year a Chicago officer was killed in the line of duty. The Chicago Police Department is a much younger and more diverse agency than it was when I was growing up. The city now has probably the best-educated, most diverse and best-trained department it's ever had. Really, this is generally true everywhere across the nation.

Back to the barbed wire.

Officer Francis was killed by a 45 year old woman, Robin Johnson. Somehow she gained control of his gun during a struggle and shot him. Johnson was described in some stories as being "known" to officers in the 19th District, and occasionally slept in the building. She had a history of mental illness and had once pulled a knife on a family member.

The last CPD officer shot and killed in the line of duty before this, Officer Donald Marquez, was killed by a 77 year old man as he tried to serve court papers at the old man's residence. The gunman was killed by backup officers who returned fire.

Encountering a 77 year old man, or a 45 year old woman, are not what would generally be thought of as "high risk" situations for police, and yet each of those encounters ended with dead officers.

How would you walk the line between treating everyone decently and fairly while still maintaining your own safety? Go too far on one side, and you become a walking target, a victim waiting to be victimized. Go too far on the other and you become an angry cop with a file full of citizen complaints resulting from your rough treatment of them.

Nearly everyone has a bad cop story. For a long time I wouldn't tell anyone what I did for a living when I met them, and I'd go nuts when I'd get introduced as a cop at parties. I got tired of hearing all the rude cop encounter stories, and about all the undeserved parking and traffic tickets. I got really tired of being asked to comment on every news item about every brutal or corrupt cop.

Anymore, though, I don't mind so much. Now I try and explain why we do what we do, and I wish police departments around the country did more of it. Here's something I'd like you to remember next time you encounter one of us and we seem fat, lazy, rude or indifferent. All those cops you've ever encountered who you thought were mean, stupid, bigoted or whatever? I'd bet you that any one of them would take a bullet for you or your family, or risk his or her life chasing down someone who harmed you.

_____________________

If you have a moment, please take a look around at these websites:

The Officer Down Memorial Page

The Chicago Police Memorial Page

Good times

Hey, where'd everybody go?

I miss em, the crazy bastards.

_____________________

The party Saturday was a blast. We had a great time, and I can't say enough to thank everyone for showing up and having a good time with us. It made us very happy to see all of you. Our guests are an extremely generous bunch. We ended this party with possibly more booze than we started with, we've got new tiki accessories and a vintage album by cocktail comedian Woody Woodbury titled "Booze is the Only Answer." Beautiful cheesehead pastry chefs showed up bearing sweets. People brought desserts and more desserts, and more wine. To those of you who couldn't be here, well, hopefully next time?

I think, counting kids and teenagers, there were about 60 or 65 people in and out. We managed to have enough food, enough ice, more than enough beer and sangria (anyone want to stop by for a drink or three?) and everyone seemed to get along fine. It's always fun to introduce people who've never met and then see them talking away later on. We had bakers, writers, cops, artists, entrepreneurs, sign language interpreters, engineers, internet musical geniuses, social workers, unofficial mayors of Chicago, IT professionals, HR marketing professionals, stay home dads, stay home moms, sophisticated European businessmen and mysterious beautiful women who asked not to be identified on this page in order to protect their privacy.

Here's the thing about parties. You do all this work, you get ready, make lists, clean, cook, all that stuff. You set up places to eat and drink, you arrange chairs in a way that you hope will encourage people to socialize. You worry about how you're going to deal with all the garbage when your cans are already half full from housecleaning, and all the food packaging you got rid of. You wonder if anyone will show up, because this might be the time that people realize they're just tired of your bullshit.

Then the party starts, and at some point--Saturday it was about an hour in--the number of guests hits a critical mass and the party starts. And, quickly after that, you lose control and the party becomes almost a living thing on its own. The chairs you set out get moved around, people end up hanging out in places you didn't think they would, your guests start to find their way around your place as they get comfortable and things just seem to run themselves. I love that ride.

So...it turns out that there's always enough food, and if it all gets eaten that just means people liked it. You can always find a good-humored kid who'll take a buck or two to climb into your garbage and recycling cans wearing a pair of your daughter's rain boots and jump up and down, compressing your trash into more manageable piles. When that one defective firework misfires and nearly hits a young girl in the head, setting her hair ablaze, her father doesn't punch you in the face and she actually turns out to have been excited about the whole experience. Lord, I hope so anyway.

See you later, alligators.

Farewell to the fourth

Man oh man.

Throw a party, put out some free booze and there's no telling who might show up.

Pork

This is one of the shoulders about to be pulled.

30 pounds of pork shoulder cooked down to 14 pounds of pulled pork. It cooked almost 10 hours at 225 degrees. I think it's pretty good.

Now it's time for bed.

On, Wisconsin!

Meet Aaron Maurice of Appleton, Wisconsin.

A couple in Appleton was awakened in the early morning hours by the sound of someone whistling in their basement. Being prepared Americans, they grabbed a shotgun and investigated.

In the basement they found Mr. Maurice, wearing the man's hat and the woman's jacket, and covered in barbecue sauce. Maurice related that he was hiding from the government, and later described the barbecue sauce as "an urban disguise, if you will."

Maurice's attorney, Gene Bartman, noted that Maurice was motivated by "inexplicable reasons."

Happy Independence Day

Saucy

MizBubs' elbow is seen slaving away in the Sprawling Ramshackle Compound test kitchen, stirring sauces.

The lighter sauce on the left is a North Carolina style mustard and vinegar based sauce. It's vinegary all right. The one on the right is a more mid-south sauce, heavier on the molasses and brown sugar. We ended up adding some chipotle and chocolate to make it richer, and it's gotten quite a bit darker since this picture was taken.

In many cultures, especially in our home, the man with the most pork is widely regarded as a god-king in the community.

This is what 30 pounds of pork shoulder looks like before it gets rubbed with spices and put back in the refrigerator to prepare for 8-10 hours of hickory smoking tomorrow. 30 pounds of pork shoulder will probably cook down to about 20 pounds of meat, and at 6 oz per serving for pulled pork sandwiches that should be about 53 servings.

Dystopia, our eldest, hoisted Old Glory out front today. It was an inspiring moment.

_____________________

One thing I like about our family are the random moments. Like coming home and finding this little tableau: a note written to our eldest while she was house-sitting, now spotted with some stage blood from the horror con. Resting on top of that was a sharp little gardening tool that the youngest had just used to tear up the weeds from the front walk. Here is the effect:

I don't know, it just looked kind of crime-sceney to me. In a good way.

_____________________

OK, can we start blowing stuff up yet?

I love this

It's quiet, no one's stirring yet and I have time to go over lists and just...sit. We've got some gardening and tidying to do out in the yard, and today looks like a perfect day for it. Costco and the Jewels will be getting a decent amount of my money later today; Binny's Beverage Depot already got their cut.

MizBubs got the day off work and she's sleeping in, bless her heart.

_____________________

I'm about halfway through a really good book: Deer Hunting With Jesus: Dispatches from America's Class War by Joe Bageant. If you liked What's the Matter with Kansas? but wished it had been more brutally direct, or set in Appalachia, then this is the book for you.

The author, Joe Bageant, has a great home page here. You can read some of his essays, pungent little exercises with titles like "The audacity of depression" and "Pissing in the liberal punchbowl again."

The very first thing I ever read by him was this piece:

Welcome to middle class lockdown. Now shut up and buy something.

It opens with this quote:

"Take away America's Wal-Mart junk and cheap electronics and what you have left is a mindless primitive tribe and a gaggle of bullshit artists pretending to lead them."

The instant I saw the term "bullshit artist" I was hooked.

A little farther down I came to this passage, and as someone who is actively contemplating his exit to that imagined simpler, more pastoral life, this really hit me:

Now it took me one helluva long time to claw my redneck self into the middle class and it took me even longer to figure all this out about its inauthenticity. Always one to fuck up right in front of the whole damned world, I loudly declared American middle class life to be a crock of shit and vowed to kiss it off. Go someplace simpler. Run nekkid in the surf in Saint Kitts or smoke pot in Belize. Catch my own damned salmon on the Galician Coast. But whoaaa hoss! This bad news just in: Not only do you have to buy your way into the American middle class through forceful consumption of the lifestyle, but you have to buy your way out of it. I'm serious. Buy your right to live in poverty. Let's say you've managed to get your kids through college one way or another, usually via a second mortgage and loans, and you decide like I did to say: Fuck this. I've done right by my family. Now I've got high blood pressure, a bad back, and a million other stress ailments. I'm overweight and have terrible lungs. Now I want to escape the ever rising cost and stress of playing the game, the grinding chase after enough net worth to feel safe about such things as health care and a safe place to shit. Spend a few years in some warm place blinking at blue, unpolluted sky before I go tits up. To my mind, these are completely understandable sentiments for any reasonable person. But, alas dear hearts, the American middle class is a lockdown facility. One that takes a lot of cash bribes and blackmail payoffs to break out of.

_____________________

Sorry if that seemed like a little bit of a downer. I didn't mean for it to. I actually find his writing to have a galvanizing effect on me, which I need more often than not. As the holiday approaches we need a Joe Bageant to cut the grease from all the "God bless the USA" we're going to be subjected to for the next couple of days.

The dangers of fireworks

Key phrase to remember: "after leaning over a professional grade firework."

Bottom line? Backyard fireworks are not safe, but if you do decide to stage an illegal amateur fireworks display in your backyard, for God's sake, keep your mannequins and your melons at a safe distance.

Stupider, and yet rocking harder

In between running errands and getting ready for the holiday, the eldest and I have been busy preparing 100 % all-American music playlists for the party. (*Note: The girls are lobbying to include Nick Cave as an honorary American based on his love of country death songs and the fact that he sounds American. Plus he's one of the Sons of Lee Marvin.)

I was listening to some Ted Nugent to check the sound quality, and as Wango Tango blasted out of the speakers I turned to her and said "you know, you can actually feel yourself getting stupider as you listen to this."

To which she replied, "yeah, but you can also feel yourself rocking harder." She held up her right hand, flashing a perfect set of metal horns, and left the room.

Yep, we're getting ready

Cousin Clete is all excited. He took the gate off the neighbor's dog run and he's getting all set up for the big party this weekend. He felt cheated when we didn't throw a party last year, and he's promised to make up for lost time.

Carnage at the compound

MizBubs, dynamic early riser, made a gruesome discovery this morning.

An unknown rabbit, clearly lacking even basic Darwinian survival instincts, decided to make a nest in our yard. Our yard that is a big playground for two terriers. And she built the nest less than a foot off to the side of the well-worn path that the dogs use to haul ass from the back porch to the far corner of the yard when they see squirrels running along the back fence. None of our neighbors have dogs or cats, so you'd think that given a choice most rabbits would pick a yard that does not smell like predator poo.

So, while I was sleeping soundly, MizBubs was on dead bunny detail in the back yard. The body count was three, but she thinks some of the wounded might have crawled off.

By the time I came out with my coffee, all that was left was a bare patch in the lawn, a little hole, and some cottony tufts drifting like little tumbleweeds across the grass.

Circle of life, yo.

Let's get on with the holiday, shall we?

I'm ready for the 4th to get here. You may have noticed the new Independence Day-themed banner at the top of the page. I got that courtesy of photoshop wizard Dr. Zaius, and I'd like to thank him publicly for helping make things a little more festive around here. He also provided this alternate version that I may use to mix things up a little:

Nice work, huh?

_____________________

Well, today marked this summer's first appearance of the deep fryer. We did fried dill pickles, and I was told by the girls that they were better than the ones from the Blue and White Restaurant in Tunica, Mississippi and from the Praline Connection! Woot! Even better than the pickles, though, was the catfish. I tried out an Emeril Lagasse recipe that involved slicing the filets into 1" strips. They cooked for about 3 minutes (after soaking in milk and creole mustard for an hour, and being dredged in flour, corn meal and Tony Chachere's seasoning) and it might have been the best fried catfish I've ever eaten. I was stunned. MizBubs found the slaw recipe she's going to use on the 5th, and it was delicious. It starts as a traditional cole slaw recipe, but has some fennel to perk it up. It was goooooood. On top of that, she made two loaves of fresh bread yesterday, and half a loaf got devoured with dinner. We ate everything before I had a chance to take pictures of it.

We are going to have some feedbag next weekend. After tonight, though, we realized that the fryer is too much work for a party--I don't want to be slaving away over a vat of hot grease when there's people to talk to and drink with.

_____________________

Our eldest totally got ripped off at the zombie pinup contest at Flashback Weekend in Rosemont. She didn't even place.

Now look at this and tell me she isn't one amazing zombie pinup:



That's from one of her friend's pages. I'll try and find one that's not so blurry. She did say she met a lot of nice people and might pick up some makeup work in the near future. I wish I'd been that cool at 19.

____________________

There was no Sunday afternoon cocktail today. We have to focus.

Now it's time to get back to work.