Spunky gets pinched

Now here's something you don't see every day:

A clown gets arrested, and the clown is a girl clown, and there's no creepy sex stuff involved. Nope, no computer porn, no sexual assault, just a good girl whose 18 years of clowning has gone down the crapper because she tried smuggling dope into a jail.

According to this story, Spunky the Clown (Manuela Markham) was arrested May 6. Spunky is pictured here in happier times.

Spunky is paying dearly for her lapse in judgement. She's taken her website down, leaving only this anguished and heartfelt apology. Could there be any sadder words than these:

"I cannot forgive myself. I will probably never clown again".

Doing her time...

MizBubs and I were talking about Paris "Rottencrotch" Hilton's return to jail on our way to a birthday party earlier this afternoon. I was telling her that my theory (that Paris' "undisclosed skin condition" was in fact a runaway case of flaming herpes that had rendered her mad) had been confirmed by a number of reliable internet sources.

So anyhow, we were driving along listening to Johnny Cash when the song "Doing My Time" (a cover of an old Flatt & Scruggs number) came on. The first verse goes like this:

On this old rock pile with a ball and chain
They call be by a number not a name, Lord, Lord
Gotta do my time, gotta do my time
With an aching heart and a worried mind

Only MizBubs, who's not normally prone to sing along, promptly piped up with this, deadpan, and in perfect harmony with Johnny's deep rumble:

Gotta do my time, gotta do my time
With an aching twat and a worried mind...

I almost wrecked the car. That MizBubs is a card.

____________________________________

MizBubs has been full of mildly inappropriate fun this weekend. We have always had, shall we say, a satisfying and...enthusiastic relationship. She proved this, once again, by leaving a small yet distinct mark, a bruise perhaps, some might even call it a hickey, on the side of my throat. We got home from the birthday party, and evidently the concealer had worn off. My 18 year old daughter looked at me, grinned, raised her eyebrows and said "oh...that's classy." How goofy is it that I've been reproached, albeit in a good-natured way, by my child? Thank God I wasn't drunk at the time.

____________________________________

For whatever reason MizBubs has decided that she wants to return to the Catholic church. We've attended mass at a couple of different parishes, and found one nearby that we both like. I must say, even after being away for 17 years, it all comes back to you pretty easy.

So, I got the idea that I wanted to go to mass on Saturday afternoon--I always remembered the Saturday mass as being like the casual Friday of worship, and I thought if MizBubs wanted to go to church this weekend, we might as well go on Saturday, and then we could sleep in Sunday morning and go to the farmers market. I talked her into it, and away we went. As we pulled up you could see a number of casually-dressed parishioners walking toward the church. I noted one couple and thought to myself "I hope they're not going in dressed like that." She looked ok, but he looked like he'd spent Saturday afternoon drinking in the forest preserve. He was wearing a B.U.M. Equipment tee shirt and shorts, and looked sweaty and mildly sunburned.

When we go to church, I tend to sit toward the back. I figure the good Christians should get the seats up front. In the past MizBubs has mentioned wanting to sit closer to the altar, so yesterday I thought I'd be a good sport and suggest we sit further up. And we did. A couple minutes after we sat down, a guy sat next to me, with one seat between us. He was wearing short pants, and had a bowl haircut and bright eyes. Big bright enthusiastic eyes. Which he turned on me when he said "HOW ABOUT THOSE CUBS? SORIANO'S REALLY HOT NOW, HE'S REALLY ON FIRE!"

I demurred that I didn't really follow the Cubs, and he went silent. For a while. I shifted in my seat, turned to MizBubs and mouthed "thanks", which she did not appreciate. Then he said, just a little loudly for the usual pre-liturgy murmur inside a church, HEY YOU'RE NOT A SOX FAN ARE YOU? I explained that I don't really follow baseball, then I trotted out the small collection of vacuous sports chat I keep ready for just such occasions. It seemed to satisfy him; he chattered on about Lou Pinella, and then the service started.

When it came time for the homily the priest introduced a missionary from India , who spoke about the good works being done by his charity. When he finished his presentation the parishioners applauded politely, and as the speaker walked away from the podium Mr. Brighteyes Shortpants leaned over toward me and said, loudly and yet in a manner that was meant to be confidential, "YOU KNOW INDIA IS THE LARGEST DEMOCRACY IN THE WORLD."

I looked around and no one seemed to be staring in our direction, which was a relief. Then I noticed the sweaty meatball I'd seen walking in earlier--he was on the other side of the altar, right in the front row, a stocky Ditka-like fellow in baggy shorts and BUM tee shirt. He hadn't taken off his sunglasses and still had that sunburned, sweaty look. He had rolled up one sleeve of his shirt and was vigorously scratching his upper arm. I looked away, and when I looked back he had a large tube of lotion and was pooting a glob of it into one hand. I mean, really pooting--you could tell that anyone within 10 feet of him would hear the sound of the lotion spurting out. Then he proceeded to rub lotion onto his arms while the priest turned the wine and wafers into the body and blood of Christ. I missed the transubstantiation completely, I was so distracted by this guy. He finally finished swabbing himself down and I was able to concentrate on my salvation again.

The rest of the mass continued without incident. Mr. Brighteyes Shortpants left as soon as the priest said "the mass has ended, go in peace" without even waiting for the processional hymn to conclude, so I didn't have to talk any more baseball.

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.

A Perfect Day...

The little canoe that...couldn't

I just sold the little canoe that could. There. It's done.

We bought the skeleton of a 1937 Old Town HW canoe back in July last year. I planned to spend this summer, and most of 2008, restoring it to its former glory. The goal was to have this beauty ready for water by Labor Day 2008.

Well, things change. I called the Chicagoland Canoe Base to see if they had a bulletin board and ended up selling it to the guy who answered the phone. He came out and picked it up today. At least I know it's going to a good home.

The old me of 5-10 years ago would have left this canoe husk sitting in the garage for years, feeling bad about not restoring it at the same time I let it deteriorate year after year. The new, grown up, version of me recognized that I couldn't possibly start working on this for at least another 2 years and promptly found a home for it. Recognizing the problem and quickly removing it makes me feel almost as good as if I'd actually restored the thing.

Oh, I also made a small profit, and the new owner seemed really happy to have it, so I'm sure I sold it at a very fair price.

Life moves on.

Friday random reading

I've just seen this little divertissement from two favorites, Mob and Johnny Yen. Here's how it works:

1) Grab the nearest book once you read this.

2) Open to page 161.

3) Find the 5th full sentence, and post the text, along with these instructions.

Since I'm sitting at my desk on my first taxpayer-funded coffee break of the day, the closest book I had was from a collection of vintage reference books I keep in the cabinet above my desk: Medicolegal Investigation of Death by Spitz and Fisher (2nd printing, 1977.)

"The finely abraded margins of the chest wounds are due to the wedge-like thickness of the blade of this particular type of weapon."

I will survive

I think there a few reasons for this high score:

1) I've always been a paranoid gun nut. Probably from all those zombie movies I watched as a kid.

2) My daughter gave me The Zombie Survival Guide as a gift a few years ago.

3) I've always been a paranoid gun nut.


91%Mingle² - Free Online Dating



From Evil Spock by way of Johnny Yen.

Anyone for camping?

We're going nuts around here because it's June already and we haven't been camping yet.

I was talking with MizBubs and I came up with a bright idea. Wouldn't it be a blast to get a bunch of bloggers together for a camping trip? Nothing too extreme, just a nice weekend spent in the outdoors with a bunch of fun loving characters. There are a number of state parks that have group campsites, and I think that some time in July or August we could find something within a 2-3 hour drive of Chicago. Don't be put off if you've never been camping--you can rent tents and stuff from places like REI, and we pride ourselves on making our friends comfortable in the outdoors.

Would anyone be interested in such an event? Let me know--if there's enough interest I'll find a site and start the planning. And if anyone has any ideas or questions, let me know!

@$%#%&!!

I'll just quote the lead from this story in the New York Times:

WASHINGTON, June 4 — If President Bush and Vice President Cheney can use vulgar language, then the government cannot punish others for doing the same thing on television.

That, in essence, was the decision today when a federal appeals court struck down the government policy of fining stations and networks that broadcast programs with profanity.

In the recent words of GETKristiLOVE from Two Minutes in the Box:

Fuckin' A!

I'll drink to that...

I Can Read!

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Literate Good Citizen
Fad Reader
Book Snob
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Yea, OK, I'm a book geek too. Bubs and I are always stealing each others books. The hard part is remembering which scrap-of-paper bookmark is yours!

In the previous post, Bubs forgot to mention the tadpoles! The pond now has 4 adorable Leopard Frog tadpoles nibbling on algae. There's a good chance they'll hop away when they grow up, if they don't get eaten by a Heron first. Bubs is hoping for a Heron!

I am a dedicated reader

According to this poll I am, anyway.

I ran across this on Write Procrastinator's site this morning as I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Literate Good Citizen
Book Snob
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Go ahead--you deserve it!

I heard these words, or something like them, several times today. Each time they were spoken by MizBubs, girl dynamo.

Like I said earlier this morning, the past few days have been a blur of yard work and movie rentals. The overall effect, however, was pleasing, not frantic.

MizBubs took me shopping for some new running shoes and a couple of tee shirts. Inspired by a recent post by Justacoolcat we headed to Lurvey's and bought a mock orange shrub to fill an empty spot in the back corner of the yard, and ended up with 3 Spirea shrubs and some water plants as well. Next thing I knew, we were back in the yard digging again.

When we finished I started on dinner. MizBubs decided that we needed a tasty beverage after all our hard work, and the beautiful creation you see above was the result. I asked her what it was, and she called it "A Perfect Day":

Cruzan coconut rum
Mango nectar
Lime Juice

It was perfect.

I got adventurous with a couple of pork tenderloins we had in the fridge, and decided to try a new rub. I must say, it came out wonderfully. The rub had ground coffee, brown sugar, dried chipotle, sage, garlic powder, paprika and salt. It created a damn-near perfect crust on the tenderloins, and I finished it with a sauce I made from chicken stock, chipotle, roasted red peppers and chocolate. It was mighty tasty.

Now it's time to get ready for bed, and the grind of the coming work week.

Sunday morning coffee

Well, here we are again. 8:00 am Sunday morning, just me and my youngest catching up on things during the most quiet and civilized time of the day. Youngest is sitting next to me updating her MySpace page. Just one more week of school...

Training for the Chicago Marathon kicks off next week, for those folks following Hal Higdon's 18-week program. I've been going to Lake Zurich and running with the Alpine Runners--in my opinion the best running club around. Yesterday was my longest run yet this year, 8 miles, and it felt good. Hopefully the body holds up over the next few months.

The last few days have been a blur of yard work, grilling and movie rentals. We managed to watch:

The Departed (What's the deal with this movie? It's like Scorcese suddenly realized he had 10 minutes left and needed to wrap things up in a hurry: there's a series of killings and a typical poignant Hollywood police funeral, and more killings. The end.

16 Blocks (Bruce Willis was good as the alcoholic detective trying to do the right thing, and Mos Def was brilliant as the talkative jailbird witness)

Jet Li's Fearless

Turistas (forget waking up in a tub full of ice with your kidney missing--head for sunny Brazil and lose ALL your organs!)

Night at the Museum (a pleasant little family film. Entertaining mostly, and only a little cloying. It's fun to watch Mickey Rooney as a hateful old security guard.)

Smokin' Aces (Ah, Hollywood...will you never tire of trying to replicate the successes of Quentin Tarantino and the bizarre caper films of Guy Ritchie? The highlight of the movie, for me, was the antics of a trio known as the Tremor Brothers. Then I realized that they reminded me of methed-up versions of the trappers from Cannibal The Musical.)

_________________________________

While scanning the news this morning I found this item from Canada: another freak on a bicycle, only this time he's grabbing ass instead of asking to be kicked in the nuts. Is it possible the Ontario Nut Buster worked out whatever self-esteem issues he had and then frantically pedalled east to start grabbing ass? I need answers.

Finally Friday Random Ten

This Friday was, simultaneously, long overdue and here before I knew it. I've been on a fierce Elvis Costello kick the past few days and I was pleased one of his tracks showed up this morning. I thought these choices, taken as a group, were strangely downbeat. I wonder what gives...

Bop With Me Baby—Johnny Tate

Poisoned Rose—Elvis Costello

Emotional Abuse—Horrorpops

For Your Love—The Yardbirds

Holiday Hill—Wallace Walters

You Burn Me Up and Down—We The People

n'y va pas manuel—Edith Piaf

Police State in the USA—Anti-Flag

Big Spender—Peggy Lee

Woe—Tom Waits

Career tips for aspiring criminals

Here's a few tips if you're thinking about committing a robbery:

1) Don't get drunk before you commit your robbery

2) Don't use your victim's credit card to buy 3 cartons of cigarettes, less than a mile away from the robbery, and don't do it in a gas station that has a good security video system

3) Most important of all, don't crash your getaway car while you're driving drunk. The police will probably find the fake gun you used, and your victim's wallet, in the car when you get arrested for DUI.

I'm just saying.

Midweek Freak of the Week: first freak of the summer!

There are three freaks this week. Let's have a little contest, shall we?

Contestant number one hails from the Badger State. For some reason, not a single article I found mentioned this freak by name. But here's the story: a 27 year old man was arrested and found to be in possession of 1,500 pairs of girl's shoes. He stole the shoes from area schools because, as a police spokesman said, "he liked to smell them."

Contestant number two was very definitely identified after he got caught jerking off in a women's bathroom at the University of Arizona. And, uh, oh yeah--he turned out to be an FBI agent:

Ryan Seese, 33, was cited on suspicion of public sexual indecency, criminal trespassing and indecent exposure, said Sgt. Eugene Mejia, a University of Arizona Police Department spokesman.

Contestant number three is another unknown freak, and a Canadian! Perhaps our favorite Canadians Dale or Barbara might have some insight into this behavior; then again, it might be really scary if they do.

Police in Guelph, Ontario, are looking for a man who is approaching women and asking them to kick him in the groin. Two of the women reported that the man was riding a bicycle at the time, so maybe he wasn't really committed to getting kicked in the balls. Here's what caught my attention:

According to a police spokesperson, they want to find this freak not because he's actually committed a crime, but because "That kind of behavior tends to be a precursor to sexual assault." In my 19 years of police work, I've never seen nor heard of a sexual assault that starts off with the offender asking the victim to kick him in the balls, but then again, I've never worked sex crimes in Canada. Is it different up there?

Ninja gator

This is from south side bureau chief Dena:

Gator visits suburb

The struggle continues...

Nothing but class...

There I was, standing at ease waiting for the beginning of the Memorial Day ceremony. There were five of us, in our honor guard uniforms, representing the police department at the annual VFW commemoration. This was the first year the VFW invited us to participate in the ceremony itself. Our job was to fire a rifle volley before the playing of "Taps" at the end of the ceremony.

We had noted the advancing age of the veterans. Several of them were on oxygen or using walkers; almost all of them were markedly slowed by age. I turned to the officer next to me and said "that's us in another 40 years" and he answered something along the lines of "if we're lucky enough to make it that far." We had a short talk about the amazing things these men had accomplished in WWII and Korea, and what badasses they'd been as young men--Marines, paratroopers and Rangers.

At that point I said, with all respect, admiration and affection:

"Can you imagine how much ass those guys kicked and how many whores they banged back in the day?"

My friend's eyes got wide and his head jerked, briefly, to his right. He made the universal "you idiot shut up there's someone right behind you who can hear every ignorant thing you say" gesture. A few feet behind me was an older woman operating a video camera. Luckily we were standing next to a busy street, and she gave no indication of having heard me above the traffic noise.

Years from now that woman will gather her grandchildren, and play a video of her husband's final VFW ceremony. She'll pan the crowd before zooming in on grandpa standing proudly in his VFW cap and medals, flags snapping in the background.  Then a disembodied voice is going to pipe up in the background, loud and clear, talking about whores, and ruin the whole experience for everyone.

Memorial Day

In an hour I'll be going to work. Our honor guard has been invited by our local VFW to participate with them in a Memorial Day ceremony at our veteran's memorial. It is an honor.

One of the vets mentioned, candidly, that many of their members are getting too old to carry rifles or flags, and march. There are fewer of them, and it doesn't seem like veterans of the current conflict, or the Gulf War, have joined groups like the VFW at the rates that WWII and Korea vets did. Anyway, like I said, it's an honor. The VFW will present the colors, and our police honor guard will fire a rifle salute.

I'm always deeply moved, and mournful, on Memorial Day. I wish I were better with words; maybe then I could successfully convey the depth of my gratitude to our veterans, and the sense of loss we should all feel on a day like today. The Department of Defense, so far, has confirmed 3,441 deaths of American service men and women as I write this. There are 14 more reported deaths pending Department of Defense Confirmation.

This is what I wrote last year:

Memorial Day is there for a reason

I'll end this post the same way I ended that one:

I'll fight the urge to make an angry political statement here, and just ask that anyone who reads this spend a quiet moment, or say a short prayer, for the families and friends of the people who've given their lives for us.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

—By John McCrae

I hated 1980

I got tagged by Johnny Yen, who asked a few of us to pick 5 songs from the year we turned 18 and get nostalgic over them.

The starting point for this exercise is a site called Pop Culture Madness.

Anyway, here are my five songs from 1980, and my nostalgic thoughts on each:

1) Escape (The Pina Colada Song) - Rupert Holmes
I hated this song. I hated everything about pop music in 1980. That's why I dressed funny and listened to punk rock.

2) Do That To Me One More Time - Captain & Tennille
I hated this song. I hated everything about pop music in 1980. That's why I dressed funny and listened to punk rock.

3) Sailing - Christopher Cross
I hated this song. I hated everything about pop music in 1980. That's why I dressed funny and listened to punk rock.

4) It's Still Rock and Roll to Me - Billy Joel
I hated this song. I hated everything about pop music in 1980. That's why I dressed funny and listened to punk rock. Where the fuck did Billy Joel get off even uttering the words "new wave"?

5) Funkytown - Lipps Inc.
I hated this song. I hated everything about pop music in 1980. That's why I dressed funny and listened to punk rock. At least I get to enjoy this song now, in an ironic way, after buying it as part of a compilation that I got for $6.99 at Target.

Anyone who wants to relive their glory days, consider yourself tagged.