On the Road Again

Well, I'm off to Mexico - with no access to the web. I'll be posting on 3/26 - come back then!

D.C. Odyssey Part 3

During our actual stay in D.C. Lumpy wasn't a real pain in my butt. In fact, I hardly ran into him. No, the real shooting pain(s) were Heckel and Jeckel. From the time we got into Washington, they were on a royal binge. Not once did their blood alcohol level get below .10. There are two events that you are required to attend; The candlelight vigil, and then the actual memorial service two days later. They did attend the candlelight vigil, but were missing in action for the memorial service. Needless to say, this was their last trip.

My wife came into town on the second day. She was going to attend the vigil, which was set for sunset that day. My wife and I did some sightseeing, then we headed back to the hotel to clean up and get ready. As we walked in the door, I found a woman ironing my uniform shirt. My reaction was natural: "who in the blue hell are you?" I asked. She said : "Oh, I'm a friend of Heckel and Jeckel's." My reply was "OK, where are they?". Keep in mind that we had 3 cops staying in this facility. We attend the vigil and memorial service in full uniform - loaded guns and all. So, not only did we have three fully equipped gunbelts in the apartment, but also my wife's rather expensive jewelry.

Just as I asked mystery woman where in the Sam Hill Heckel and Jeckel were, Jeckel comes out of a room, nervous as hell - as he should of been. I grabbed him and dragged him into the kitchen. As I began to throttle him, I asked him what he thought he was doing. After considerable abuse, he came up with the real story. These two shlemiels met this woman on the Metro. The Frikkin Metro. "But", Jeckel offered, "she has federal clearance - I saw her credentials." I looked at him and said: "You two doughheads wouldn't know federal clearance credentials if they bit you on the ass." I promptly told our ironing woman to get out. I told Heckel and Jeckel that if they kept it up, it would be a long walk home.

To be continued.

This is my step - daughter, Cassie. And no, you can't have her phone number. 

One of the venerable beers of Minnesota in the 60's was Fitger's. It was brewed at 600 E. Superior St. in Duluth. The brewery is still there, but it's now a shopping center. The bottling house is a nice hotel. My dad drank Fitger's, so this label brought back memories.

Letting Go

We took a quick one night trip to Duluth. The purpose was to attend my step - daughter's orientation to attend UMD next year. She's graduating from high school this year. Where did this young woman come from? I thought that I was living with a little girl...I would tell anyone with kids to appreciate every day, because overnight they grow up and move away.

Clearly, it's much harder on my wife. When Cassie picked up her school ID and proudly handed it to me, I was a little taken aback - here was a little girl's face on a card reading University of Minnesota. I handed it to Kim. She cried.

I know that the next few months are going to be tough. My wife is very attached to her kids, but I'm very proud of how she is handling it, Nonetheless, Cassie has pulled me aside more than once to make me promise that I won't let Kim do snap inspections, or make too many trips to the Zenith City.

All of that being said, it sure seems like it was about 2 weeks ago that Cassie started crying because I wouldn't buy here a Potty Training Kelly Doll. Geez.

Political Correctness Run Amok

This is just fabulous. Ikea is in a jam because their brochures show men only assembling furniture. Ikea's response is to say that they didn't want to offend members of what many refer to as the religion of peace, Muslims. Who is going to win? Feminism or Multi Culturism?

What Kids Will Make You Do

I'm always careful to refer to my step - kids as just: that - step - kids. I do this out of respect to their blood father, who I get along with very well. That being said, I think that everyone who has married into a family pretty much feels that the step - kids are just as close as your own blood. I know that is certainly the case with me. That being said, I get a lot of ribbing for being Mr. Big Tough Cop - - who is firmly wrapped around his 17 year old step - daughter's little finger. Anyway, she wanted me to link this , which is supposedly the hottest music video on the web. Enjoy.

This is what Ray Ploetz was responding to.

More Red Star Follies

I had to laugh. Ray Ploetz of Maple Grove had a great letter to the editor in our favorite communist rag. Here it is:
Steve Sack's March 7 editorial cartoon was very thoughtful and thought-provoking. My own meditation took me back to my 1993 visit to the WWII, D-Day American cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer, Normandy, France.
There is a memorial to 1,557 missing and presumed dead. There also are 9,386 headstones marking graves of those killed in action. With the benefit of 60-year hindsight, we all know the world is a better place thanks to those 10,943 and the thousands of other heroes who sacrificed to defeat fascism.
Similarly, I believe 60 years from now we will know the world became a better place because of the 1,500-plus heroes who made the ultimate sacrifice and the thousands of other heroes who are presently making sacrifices in the war to defeat fanaticism and despotism in the Middle East.
Ray Ploetz, Maple Grove.

The cartoon that he was reponding to is published in the entry above. Sorry for the small print. Anyway, I thought it was pretty cool how the Newspaper of the Communist World was trying to pass out their usual anti - war tripe, and Mr. Ploetz turned the tables on them. Touche' Ray!

Deadburb - where The Brady Bunch meets The Stand

More stuff from Lileks. Actually, a pretty sad commentary. Richfield seems to have it's share of this type of thing. I remember when an 8 square block neighborhood was bought out for runway expansion at 28th Ave. and 66th St. - I think that it was around 1995. I used to drive through that neighborhood when I worked at Page Airways in the late 70's, making runs to Beek's Pizza. I drove through it about three nights before the bulldozers went through....it gave me the heeby jeebies.

The D.C. Odyssey - Episode 2

Anyway, you have an idea of what kind of a ride it was out to our nation's capitol. We finally arrived, about 24 hours later, to a time share condo in Alexandria, that we thought would be our lodging.

One of our members - who owns a retail outfit that caters to cops - was good enough to provide us with a large time share to stay at. Complete with multiple rooms, pool, etc. When we walked into the door, I'm sure that we all looked like something out of a bad Clint Eastwood movie. 24 hours of straight driving, as well as eating at some questionable roadside establishments, made us not look or smell so good anymore.

The woman at the front counter was little or no help. Of course, there was a pretty good language barrier, that only aggravated the pre - existing intelligence barrier. She had no record of us. Never heard of us. She had no record of the person that made the reservations. Never heard of her. She had no record of the confirmation number that we gave her. Never heard of it. She had no record of the State of Minnesota. Never heard of it. Well, you get the idea.

Keep in mind that this was after 24 hours of the most hellish car trip I have ever been on. Homicide was already but a breath away, and I was now grinning maniacally - - YES, I was going to satisfy my animal urges!

In keeping with the bad Clint Eastwood theme, I was heading toward the door on my way to get behind the wheel of the van, and drive it through the nice revolving doors. Just like Dirty Harry. Truly God was looking out for me that night, as I saw but who walk in the door - the person who made the reservation and whose time share this was. I didn't think that she would be in until the next day.

I told her what was going on and what I intended to do. She talked me out of the later, and dealt with the former. I have no idea what she told the imbecile at the front counter, but within 5 minutes everything was fine.

I showered and went to bed. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought "well, with everything that has gone on, surely the rest of the trip will go fine." Ya/.......................Ya.

Blog Shortage

Well kids, I'm off to Indianapolis for the Spring Board Meeting of the FOP - my blogging may be limited over the weekend. If the hotel has a business center (and most do now) I might be able to get something in, but it might be until Sunday before I'll be able to make a new entry. The D.C. story will have to wait until next week. Sorry - I'm sure everyone is sitting on the edge of their seats.

The D.C. Odyssey - Episode 1

Someone told me that I should write a book about some of my adventures. I don't know about a book, but I think that I might just share a few of my adventures here.

It was 1999, and the FOP put together a trip to Washington D.C. to supposedly accomplish two things: 1) have us attend Police Week memorial activities, and 2) Market some merchandise. The first objective was met with a great deal of success. The second one was perhaps the most textbook example of what happens when a bunch of ham - handed cops try their hand at business. It was a total disaster. It's funny now, but sure wasn't at the time.

Our State President at the time decided that he had the end all solution as far as money goes - market "stuff": T-shirts, Coffee Mugs, all manner of flotsam and jetsam and pure crap. Yes indeed, people were going to buy this crap like it's going out of style. And where did he get this brilliant idea? Our brothers in New York. They market stuff and make a killing. What our business genius president did not take into account was that people like "stuff" from New York, but have little use of "stuff" from Minnesota. On top of that, we have a really ugly logo. I do my level best to try and avoid using it.

So, we have a booth near the Washington FOP lodge, and we're going to sell stuff. The problem is getting this crap to D.C. The solution? Rent a van and trailer and drive out. Oh boy, we're having fun now.

Anyone who has been a member of any fraternal organization is going to know exactly what I'm about to talk to you about. Whenever something is needed (beer, building supplies, legal services, etc.) and brought up at a meeting, there's always some wanna be bigshot who will raise his hand and proudly announce that his brother - in - law or some other schmuck that he knows can get the goods or services for cheap or free. Hell, half the time they'll pay us just to do or provide something. Of course, we all know how this works - the bigshot wanna be is nothing more than bluster, fluster and bullshit, and you end up paying full price.

We picked up our full price van and trailer and headed east. My traveling companions were Lumpy, Heckel and Jeckel. Lumpy was our administrative person, Heckel and Jeckel were two cops from southern Minnesota. By the end of this trip, I was willing to gleefully disembowel each one of them, and there is not a jury in the world that would have convicted me.

Lumpy is a smoker. And I mean a smoker. A few years ago he smoked three packs a day of Marlboro hard packs. His wife yelled at him to at least switch to light cigs - which he did, but now he smokes 5 packs a day. If anyone has gone on a long road trip with a heavy smoker - and not allowed them to smoke in the vehicle - you know how quickly white hot hatred can grow, as every 1/2 hour they tell you "I have to pee" which really means, "I have to smoke". I am not putting you on when I tell you that, when we stopped at rest areas on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he would hide from us so he could suck down another cancer stick. I was so pissed that I actually began driving away from one stop. I honestly hoped that he be found by a gay motorcycle gang and that they would have their way with him for hours on end. Alas, Heckel and Jeckel wouldn't let me - they came about one second away from physical restraints. It did get Lumpy's attention, though, as he came running, huffing and puffing down the entrance ramp. I sneered into his face and said "next time, you WILL be left here". When I told him about my gay motorcycle gang fantasy, he was visibly shaken, and never did it again.

We left Minneapolis at 10:00 PM. Another brilliant move, as we were driving through Chicago and we got to the Windy City just in time for a legendary morning rush hour traffic jam. And guess who was driving. At least Lumpy was asleep, because there was no frikkin way I was pulling off of the freeway in South Chicago so that ashtray breath can have another butt.....hmmm, come to think of it, maybe that would have been a solution!

To be continued.

The Lileks Gallery of Regrettable Food

Just thought I'd throw this in. What were they thinking?