People, whatever you do, do not poach deer in Lawrence County, Missouri, or Judge Robert George may innovate your sentence.
The judge sentenced David Berry, Jr. to one year in prison after Berry, his father, two brothers, and a family friend were caught poaching hundreds of animals, according to Conservation Agent Andy Barnes. But the judge didn't stop there. To Berry, Jr.'s sentence he added a special proviso: while he is in prison, Berry must watch the movie Bambi starting no later than today, December 23, 2018, and once a month for the duration of his stay.
Whoa! Not too shabby, Your Honor! But...! May this blogger approach the bench?
If it please the court, Your Honor, may I be so bold as to make a suggestion to augment and supplement your wise and creative ruling? You see, Your Honor, this blogger was, like you, offended at the egregious amount of senseless killing perpetrated by the party of five, as described in this article. But I am also quite aggrieved by the idea that these folks went out, night after night, in a spree of poaching so large that it went on for years. So large that it involved law enforcement agencies at the state and federal level, as well as in Canada. This group slaughtered mostly for trophies, and, in the words of Prosecuting Attorney Don Trotter, they left "the bodies of the deer to waste."
Your Honor, begging the court's indulgence, may I suggest: Perhaps prisoner Berry, Jr. could also take a field trip to see, or perhaps he could receive as a visitor, a member of a nearby Native American tribe? A shaman or a tribal elder who could educate David Berry about the purpose of proper hunting, since his father shirked his responsibility to do so, and joined him in the carnage.
And if it does not offend judicial temperament, may I be so audacious as to exhort you to perhaps also have the prisoner watch videos about people starving? This so that perhaps he could be brought to the understanding that, while many in our culture are opposed to hunting and killing of animals to feed us, and by factory farming, etc., almost everybody is offended by killing that serves merely as a prize when so many people are hungry. Succinctly, it is a sin to waste food.
Oh, yes, and Your Honor: thank you so much for revoking hunting, fishing, and trapping privileges of these folks.
This blog stands in recess.
Sunday, December 23, 2018
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
Don't Be That Fan! Call-Out
So Sunday, the Pittsburgh Steelers accomplished what has been nearly impossible for the last 17 years, they beat the New England Patriots. I detailed here exactly how I feel about the NFL in general, and the Roethlisberger-QB'ed Steelers in specific, but I'd be lying if I said that a petty part of me isn't delighted that the Men Of Steel finally got it all over the Deflatriots, especially after some rather sucky play on the Steelers' part the past month.
That's why I was so disappointed to hear about this bar fight on this afternoon's news broadcast. Three people arrested in a bar after fighting with police and medics. One woman knocked unconscious. Wow, great idea, fighting with cops in a bar. What are ya gonna do for an encore, geniuses? Give a caged bear a noogie?
And two weeks ago, during the game vs. the LA Chargers, we had a twofer that took place in the stands. The "head-butt seen 'round the world" and a pregnant woman was choked. Ugh. Really, Steeler fans? This is the face we want to show the world?
Six times since 2000, the city of Pittsburgh has been named "Most Livable" -- by Forbes, Places Rated Almanac, and The Economist. "The City Of Champions", with multiple championship trophies earned by all three major professional teams. World-class medical city, with a burn unit, transplant center, and Children's Hospital that are well-known pioneers of technique. Major studies are done here, and pharmaceuticals developed. We became innovators of communication nearly 100 years ago when the first radio station in the US, KDKA, signed on the air, broadcasting Harding-Cox election returns, and again in 1954, with WQED, the first community-sponsored TV station in the US. We survived the death of Big Steel in the early 80's, and, hardly skipping a beat, we commenced a city-wide renaissance begun in the late 70's, bringing it to a crowning finish in the early 90's.
We are that original "big city with a small-town attitude", well-known for our friendliness to "ahta-tahners", you know, them that ain't yinzers. So must we let football games, yes, even our beloved Steelers, ruin our good image?
And how about Chris Boswell? The embattled kicker, who made 92% of his field goals and signed a big contract last year, has struggled to bang through a league-worst 61% so far this year. No question his 32-yard miss earlier in the game looms larger in the minds of Steeler Nation than his 48-yard success late in the 4th quarter that kept it a one score game. But after the earlier failure, Steelers Head Coach Mike Tomlin indicated to Boswell he would go right back to him, showing confidence. So why did some fans feel the need to kick the guy when he was down, immediately going into detective mode to unearth racist and homophobic tweets from five years ago, just to get him fired?
Does this blogger condone the content of Boswell's (now deleted) Twitter feed? No, never. Do I think he should be fired for it? Yes, as long as we all understand that we have all had wrong attitudes and said dumb things, and that if all the dumb things we have ever thought and said were somewhere waiting to be ferreted out and exposed, I wonder how many of us would have jobs. But to be fair, Roseanne Barr lost her TV show earlier this year for the same kind of content, so, OK, fire him. But let's be real about why we want him out. Is it because he is racist and homophobic? Or because all of a sudden, he can't make field goals? Cuz I didn't see none 'a yinz diggin' up this kinda stuff last year when Boswell went to the Pro Bowl for Da Stillers n 'at.
I think I liked you better in October, Pittsburgh.
https://www.pennlive.com/steelers/2018/12/steelers-police-investigating-two-fan-incidents-caught-on-video-at-heinz-field-during-chargers-game-reports.html
That's why I was so disappointed to hear about this bar fight on this afternoon's news broadcast. Three people arrested in a bar after fighting with police and medics. One woman knocked unconscious. Wow, great idea, fighting with cops in a bar. What are ya gonna do for an encore, geniuses? Give a caged bear a noogie?
And two weeks ago, during the game vs. the LA Chargers, we had a twofer that took place in the stands. The "head-butt seen 'round the world" and a pregnant woman was choked. Ugh. Really, Steeler fans? This is the face we want to show the world?
Six times since 2000, the city of Pittsburgh has been named "Most Livable" -- by Forbes, Places Rated Almanac, and The Economist. "The City Of Champions", with multiple championship trophies earned by all three major professional teams. World-class medical city, with a burn unit, transplant center, and Children's Hospital that are well-known pioneers of technique. Major studies are done here, and pharmaceuticals developed. We became innovators of communication nearly 100 years ago when the first radio station in the US, KDKA, signed on the air, broadcasting Harding-Cox election returns, and again in 1954, with WQED, the first community-sponsored TV station in the US. We survived the death of Big Steel in the early 80's, and, hardly skipping a beat, we commenced a city-wide renaissance begun in the late 70's, bringing it to a crowning finish in the early 90's.
We are that original "big city with a small-town attitude", well-known for our friendliness to "ahta-tahners", you know, them that ain't yinzers. So must we let football games, yes, even our beloved Steelers, ruin our good image?
And how about Chris Boswell? The embattled kicker, who made 92% of his field goals and signed a big contract last year, has struggled to bang through a league-worst 61% so far this year. No question his 32-yard miss earlier in the game looms larger in the minds of Steeler Nation than his 48-yard success late in the 4th quarter that kept it a one score game. But after the earlier failure, Steelers Head Coach Mike Tomlin indicated to Boswell he would go right back to him, showing confidence. So why did some fans feel the need to kick the guy when he was down, immediately going into detective mode to unearth racist and homophobic tweets from five years ago, just to get him fired?
Does this blogger condone the content of Boswell's (now deleted) Twitter feed? No, never. Do I think he should be fired for it? Yes, as long as we all understand that we have all had wrong attitudes and said dumb things, and that if all the dumb things we have ever thought and said were somewhere waiting to be ferreted out and exposed, I wonder how many of us would have jobs. But to be fair, Roseanne Barr lost her TV show earlier this year for the same kind of content, so, OK, fire him. But let's be real about why we want him out. Is it because he is racist and homophobic? Or because all of a sudden, he can't make field goals? Cuz I didn't see none 'a yinz diggin' up this kinda stuff last year when Boswell went to the Pro Bowl for Da Stillers n 'at.
I think I liked you better in October, Pittsburgh.
https://www.pennlive.com/steelers/2018/12/steelers-police-investigating-two-fan-incidents-caught-on-video-at-heinz-field-during-chargers-game-reports.html
Sunday, December 16, 2018
To Those Who Murder Sleep...
This Call-Out!
So, this morning, I was doing what tired shift workers do on Saturdays, if they can. I was sleeping. Dreaming peacefully of a place with shining blue waters tumbling gently over rocks, making a lovely sound just like that of my white-noise-spewing radio, when all of a sudden...
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Rattling my storm door, accompanied by
DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG! Causing the cat to run and hide, an event I liken in frequency to an eclipse; and growl, which I have never heard him do before. I looked at the clock. 11:33 AM. WTF? Are you serious right now? Who dares invade the peace of a quiet suburban Saturday morning like this? Is it an emergency the way the pounding and the three rapid-fire doorbell rings make it sound?
I looked outside to find a Window World truck parked in front of my driveway, four-way flashers blinking. Are you kidding me??? People, people!! During the early 90's I sold Avon, during which time I followed a handful of cardinal rules, a few of which were: NEVER go out to see your customers before noon, and always gently tap on the door no more than three times; ring the doorbell once. Put your calling card in the door. If they want your product or service, you'll hear from them.
There used to be such a thing as decency, by which I mean some kind of consideration for privacy, by which I mean the right to not be disturbed by other people. Nowadays I think that if it were light enough to do it, there would be bozos outside at 10 PM, or conversely, 4 AM, mowing their lawns.
Of course, only relatively recently have we acquired a 24-hour society. But somehow many of us still want to operate as if most of our world is still 9 to 5.
I became most acutely aware of this in 2006, after the current regime took over The Plaza and I accepted an overnight supervisor position, working five 10+ hour days a week, 10 PM-8 AM. I attempted to sleep between noon and 8 PM; rarely did I achieve more than five hours of sleep a night. Too many Post Office/UPS/Fed-Ex/salespeople ringing and knocking; family on the phone; lawn-mowing going on all hours. And of course it had to be that year and no other that one of my neighbors had their driveway dug up and replaced, and another their sewer lines. And for whatever reason, though they had a big, beautiful backyard to play in (that didn't face my house), yet another neighbor's four kids all had to play almost exclusively in the driveway that does face my house.
What to do? Well, I did what I could. My mother already knew We Do Not Wake A Sleeping Claudia. The landline's ringer was turned off; the sound way down on the answering machine. Family and friends were told the hours we could not be reached, and were good about complying for the most part. A sign was posted on the door, which read, "Shift worker sleeping. Do not disturb except in case of fire, local or national emergency". This worked for a time, until some folks decided their employers' rules stated they HAD to knock or ring the doorbell. At which time I smashed the doorbell cover in a psychotic rage. (Do not do this. Doorbell cover replacements are expensive!) Then I simply disconnected the doorbell.
All to no avail. I still rarely got more than five hours of sleep. Consequently, I was chronically sleep-deprived and would fall asleep anywhere -- while reading, watching TV, and once, while parked in a Wal-Mart parking lot. This is, unfortunately, the curse of the overnight employee. No one was happier than me when The Plaza shut down for demolition and rebuilding on Labor Day, 2006. My mother and I went out for breakfast to celebrate, and when we returned home, I slept. And slept. And slept. 20 out of my first 36 hours home. And when I finally caught up on my sleep, I recovered my wits from the fog that had engulfed them.
Luckily, after The Plaza was rebuilt, it was decided that I would help keep order in the Coffee Paradise restaurant, in lieu of running shifts. I returned to my old standby, the 3-11 shift, usually arriving home around 11:30, winding down and going to sleep around 4 or 5 AM. A lot of people are surprised that I don't go home and go right to sleep, but that feels as unnatural as a day shift employee getting home at 5 or 6 PM, eating and going right to sleep. Winding down is a must, and look at it this way: my being up late helps keep the neighborhood a little safer, because I hear everything.
My loved ones are pretty good about remembering my timetable, and contacting me accordingly. And deliverers of packages generally no longer interfere with my sleep schedule. My biggest impediments to a good night's sleep now are, in this order: menopausal insomnia; my cat, who gets lonely and will scratch my door so he can cuddle and sleep with me. Or hunt and kill dust molecules in my bedroom. You never can tell which.
Oh, yeah, and knuckleheads like Mr. Window World.
So, this morning, I was doing what tired shift workers do on Saturdays, if they can. I was sleeping. Dreaming peacefully of a place with shining blue waters tumbling gently over rocks, making a lovely sound just like that of my white-noise-spewing radio, when all of a sudden...
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Rattling my storm door, accompanied by
DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG! Causing the cat to run and hide, an event I liken in frequency to an eclipse; and growl, which I have never heard him do before. I looked at the clock. 11:33 AM. WTF? Are you serious right now? Who dares invade the peace of a quiet suburban Saturday morning like this? Is it an emergency the way the pounding and the three rapid-fire doorbell rings make it sound?
I looked outside to find a Window World truck parked in front of my driveway, four-way flashers blinking. Are you kidding me??? People, people!! During the early 90's I sold Avon, during which time I followed a handful of cardinal rules, a few of which were: NEVER go out to see your customers before noon, and always gently tap on the door no more than three times; ring the doorbell once. Put your calling card in the door. If they want your product or service, you'll hear from them.
There used to be such a thing as decency, by which I mean some kind of consideration for privacy, by which I mean the right to not be disturbed by other people. Nowadays I think that if it were light enough to do it, there would be bozos outside at 10 PM, or conversely, 4 AM, mowing their lawns.
Of course, only relatively recently have we acquired a 24-hour society. But somehow many of us still want to operate as if most of our world is still 9 to 5.
I became most acutely aware of this in 2006, after the current regime took over The Plaza and I accepted an overnight supervisor position, working five 10+ hour days a week, 10 PM-8 AM. I attempted to sleep between noon and 8 PM; rarely did I achieve more than five hours of sleep a night. Too many Post Office/UPS/Fed-Ex/salespeople ringing and knocking; family on the phone; lawn-mowing going on all hours. And of course it had to be that year and no other that one of my neighbors had their driveway dug up and replaced, and another their sewer lines. And for whatever reason, though they had a big, beautiful backyard to play in (that didn't face my house), yet another neighbor's four kids all had to play almost exclusively in the driveway that does face my house.
What to do? Well, I did what I could. My mother already knew We Do Not Wake A Sleeping Claudia. The landline's ringer was turned off; the sound way down on the answering machine. Family and friends were told the hours we could not be reached, and were good about complying for the most part. A sign was posted on the door, which read, "Shift worker sleeping. Do not disturb except in case of fire, local or national emergency". This worked for a time, until some folks decided their employers' rules stated they HAD to knock or ring the doorbell. At which time I smashed the doorbell cover in a psychotic rage. (Do not do this. Doorbell cover replacements are expensive!) Then I simply disconnected the doorbell.
All to no avail. I still rarely got more than five hours of sleep. Consequently, I was chronically sleep-deprived and would fall asleep anywhere -- while reading, watching TV, and once, while parked in a Wal-Mart parking lot. This is, unfortunately, the curse of the overnight employee. No one was happier than me when The Plaza shut down for demolition and rebuilding on Labor Day, 2006. My mother and I went out for breakfast to celebrate, and when we returned home, I slept. And slept. And slept. 20 out of my first 36 hours home. And when I finally caught up on my sleep, I recovered my wits from the fog that had engulfed them.
Luckily, after The Plaza was rebuilt, it was decided that I would help keep order in the Coffee Paradise restaurant, in lieu of running shifts. I returned to my old standby, the 3-11 shift, usually arriving home around 11:30, winding down and going to sleep around 4 or 5 AM. A lot of people are surprised that I don't go home and go right to sleep, but that feels as unnatural as a day shift employee getting home at 5 or 6 PM, eating and going right to sleep. Winding down is a must, and look at it this way: my being up late helps keep the neighborhood a little safer, because I hear everything.
My loved ones are pretty good about remembering my timetable, and contacting me accordingly. And deliverers of packages generally no longer interfere with my sleep schedule. My biggest impediments to a good night's sleep now are, in this order: menopausal insomnia; my cat, who gets lonely and will scratch my door so he can cuddle and sleep with me. Or hunt and kill dust molecules in my bedroom. You never can tell which.
Oh, yeah, and knuckleheads like Mr. Window World.
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Shout-Out To A Pair Of Red Kettle Ladies!
With the holiday season upon us, we are all bound to see those big, red Salvation Army kettles in our out-and-abouts; they definitely are ubiquitous this time of year. Like most of us, I look forward to the opportunity to drop a little something into the kettle. It adds that necessary ingredient of Good Will To All that may be lacking the rest of the year, but sets the year-end holidays apart, makes them sacred. Something that adds a certain spring in the step and lift in the heart that might not be felt again until the snow stops flying, at least. Something that makes us a little more favorably disposed to the other struggling humans on this planet for a month or so.
As I went grocery shopping yesterday afternoon, two ladies Who Know What It's All About were manning the Red Kettle together, and lending considerable talents to the endeavor. Such sweet, true voices they had, raised in song. Christmas carols, something I have never experienced in all these years of running into the Salvation Army at holiday time.
I noticed they had a pretty full kettle when I went past them into the grocery store, but when I came out (praying they would still be there), that kettle was stuffed! What I donated is between The Universe, The Ladies and me, but I will just say that, as I told the talented duo, they uplifted me, so I gave more than usual.
And judging from the the abundance in the kettle, I wasn't the only one. Happy Holidays!
https://give.salvationarmyusa.org/give/164006/?pid=cpc:red_kettle_national::bing:::::use:brand:brand&utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=red_kettle_national&utm_content=use&utm_term=brand#!/donation/checkout
As I went grocery shopping yesterday afternoon, two ladies Who Know What It's All About were manning the Red Kettle together, and lending considerable talents to the endeavor. Such sweet, true voices they had, raised in song. Christmas carols, something I have never experienced in all these years of running into the Salvation Army at holiday time.
I noticed they had a pretty full kettle when I went past them into the grocery store, but when I came out (praying they would still be there), that kettle was stuffed! What I donated is between The Universe, The Ladies and me, but I will just say that, as I told the talented duo, they uplifted me, so I gave more than usual.
And judging from the the abundance in the kettle, I wasn't the only one. Happy Holidays!
https://give.salvationarmyusa.org/give/164006/?pid=cpc:red_kettle_national::bing:::::use:brand:brand&utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=red_kettle_national&utm_content=use&utm_term=brand#!/donation/checkout
Monday, December 3, 2018
Not Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor Galactic Objects
Once every couple years or so, you may hear of a youngster writing a letter to Santa, and a lovely creative response by the US Postal Service. And those are sweet feel-good stories that we all eat up this time of year. But this Shout-Out goes out to the UK's Royal Mail, and the imagination and sensitivity shown by one of its employees.
Seems young Jase Hyndman wrote a letter to his father who had passed away, and sent it via Royal Mail, requesting, "Mr. Postman, can you take this to heaven for my dads birthday. Thanks."
And from Royal Mail, Jase received this response:
"Dear Jase, while we've been delivering your post, we've become aware of some concerns. So I just wanted to take this opportunity to contact you about how we succeeded in the delivery of the letter to your dad in heaven. This was a difficult challenge avoiding stars and other galactic objects on route to heaven."
"However please be assured that this particular important item of mail has been delivered. I will continue to do all I can to ensure delivery to heaven safely." The letter was signed by Sean Milligan, assistant delivery office manager for Royal Mail.
Jase's mother, Teri Copland, shared on Facebook:
"A few weeks ago my 7 year old son posted this card to his dad in heaven and today he got a lovely reply from the postman. I actually cannot state how emotional he is knowing his dad got his card... you didn’t have to make the effort to do this you could have just ignored it but the fact that yous have made the effort for a little boy you've never met is such a lovely thing to do. Royal Mail you've just restored my faith in humanity and thank you it honestly means the world to him please share this so all the staff at Royal Mail know just how greatful [sic] we are."
Sean Milligan and Royal Mail, thank you for your kindness, and the opportunity for this blogger to segue gracefully into the holiday season. It is my hope that our society can recover the angels of its better nature, if not permanently, then at least until the end of this year. May we all be blessed.
https://m.facebook.com/teri.copland/posts/pcb.2438483316168010/?photo_id=2438483192834689&mds=%2Fphotos%2Fviewer%2F%3Fphotoset_token%3Dpcb.2438483316168010%26photo%3D2438483192834689%26profileid%3D100011552269602%26source%3D49%26refid%3D17%26_ft_%3Dmf_story_key.2438483316168010%253Atop_level_post_id.2438483316168010%253Atl_objid.2438483316168010%253Acontent_owner_id_new.100000190967793%253Athrowback_story_fbid.2438483316168010%253Aphoto_attachments_list.[2438483192834689%252C2438483186168023]%253Astory_location.4%253Astory_attachment_style.album%253Athid.100000190967793%253A306061129499414%253A2%253A0%253A1546329599%253A5837400797899219738%26__tn__%3DEH-R%26cached_data%3Dtrue%26ftid%3D&mdf=1
Seems young Jase Hyndman wrote a letter to his father who had passed away, and sent it via Royal Mail, requesting, "Mr. Postman, can you take this to heaven for my dads birthday. Thanks."
And from Royal Mail, Jase received this response:
"Dear Jase, while we've been delivering your post, we've become aware of some concerns. So I just wanted to take this opportunity to contact you about how we succeeded in the delivery of the letter to your dad in heaven. This was a difficult challenge avoiding stars and other galactic objects on route to heaven."
"However please be assured that this particular important item of mail has been delivered. I will continue to do all I can to ensure delivery to heaven safely." The letter was signed by Sean Milligan, assistant delivery office manager for Royal Mail.
Jase's mother, Teri Copland, shared on Facebook:
"A few weeks ago my 7 year old son posted this card to his dad in heaven and today he got a lovely reply from the postman. I actually cannot state how emotional he is knowing his dad got his card... you didn’t have to make the effort to do this you could have just ignored it but the fact that yous have made the effort for a little boy you've never met is such a lovely thing to do. Royal Mail you've just restored my faith in humanity and thank you it honestly means the world to him please share this so all the staff at Royal Mail know just how greatful [sic] we are."
Sean Milligan and Royal Mail, thank you for your kindness, and the opportunity for this blogger to segue gracefully into the holiday season. It is my hope that our society can recover the angels of its better nature, if not permanently, then at least until the end of this year. May we all be blessed.
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