Super Tuesday/SEC Primaries Familial Panic

Younger Daughter called me shortly before lunchtime today and said, "Mommy!" (When daughters regress to "Mommy" I know that something not good will follow.)

She continued, "I'm sooooo stressed out!!!" (That didn't bode well, either.)

I asked, haltingly, "What's the matter?!?"

"There is no one I can vote for!!! And too many to vote against!!! I don't know what to do!!!"

Today is the Arkansas Primary Election Cha-cha-cha. Pepper and I did the early voting thing this year, so we're well beyond second and third guessing (until the results start trickling in tonight.) But Younger Daughter put it off until the actual day, leaving her all stressed out!!!

So, what's a Mommy to say? YD ultimately decided to hold her nose, throw up a little bit in her mouth, and vote the way her Daddy and I did. And our choice among the candidates didn't rhyme with rump, or much of anything else.

Heaven help us all; and, hooray for the red, white, and blue. Hopefully not too black-and-blue.

Wealth Re-Distribution, 2.0

Tomorrow is Primary Election Day here in the Natural State, and you know what that means -- lots of robo-calls and bad political ads.

One ad has been running on the local talk radio station featuring Hillary. In it, she affects this nasal, whiny accent and tells supporters how "she loves to brag on Arkansas" because our Legislature was foolhardy clever enough to pass a bi-partisan "Public Option" for health insurance that moves thousands who previously didn't qualify for Medicaid, and whose income was too high to give them premium subsidies, onto the Medicaid rolls and they will now be insured.

(Arkansas is among the states that declined to set up a "State Exchange," opting instead for the "Private Option" which accepts federal funds to allocate to Medicaid and it subsidizes premiums charged by private insurers. So, potay-toh/potah-toh. The Governor purportedly wanted the "Arkansas Works Program"  [Private Option] to focus on encouraging citizens to go to work and enjoy employer-provided insurance rather than relying on government to insure them. I'm not so sure that's working out.)

What the Medicaid expansion advocates don't tell us is that, under Obamacare, once a body has accepted any Medicaid benefits, he's deemed to be a Medicaid participant for life. For-ever!

One might not think that's a problem when he's a twenty-something and hasn't acquired diddly-squat to pass on to his heirs, but it's a different story when he moves on to the next plane of existence and his estate is being probated.

Guess who gets his share first, before any heir or legatee?

How'd you guess?!  Of, course --  it's Uncle Sam!!

Can you say "the ultimate surreptitious re-distribution of wealth?" Of course you can! It's called "asset forfeiture," and it's been around for awhile, but Obamacare gave it a shot of steroids.

A wonderful article from 2013 that Pepper found in Science Decoded boils the issue down to one articulate sentence:

Dr. Jane Orient, the Executive Director of the Association of American Physicians and Surgeons, put the risk/reward tradeoff succinctly. “People will think this is wonderful, this is free insurance. They don’t realize it’s really a loan, and is secured by any property they have.”

What an awful thing for your government to do to you. Restoring the Estate Tax was bad enough, but putting these two together is nothing short of confiscatory policy that slaps around the Fourth Amendment.

Don't let Uncle Sam tell you it's raining on you.

Planned Obsolescence?

Rant alert.

I've been pussyfooting around a two-year old LG refrigerator repair issue for a week now (The fridge is two, not the repair issue. Yet.)  Our wonderful repair guy told me that he doesn't work on LGs anymore because it's too hard to get parts, and suggested I find a factory authorized repairman since the problem may still be under warranty. 

I Googled "factory authorized repairs LG" and got some pretty shady-sounding results. Then I went on the LG website "find a repairman" page. Entered my zip code (in Little Rock, Arkansas) and got "No data available." Next, I called Home Depot, where we bought the fridge, for recommendations where I was told, "We don't do repairs if you didn't purchase an extended warranty from us," which we didn't because major appliances should function as intended for many, many years. 

Back to the LG site; found a number for Customer Service (where my call was very important to them, so I should please enjoy this lovely music for awhile) and ultimately got to chat with a very pleasant young lady named Michelle who sounded as if she were somewhere on the sub-continent. She walked me through the script and ultimately found two authorized repairmen "in my area" -- one is in Sherwood; the other is in Joplin, MO. Sherwood will have to do.

*deep sigh*

I guess the moral of the story is: next time go with something other than LG. Even if Michelle is very friendly and somewhat helpful.

Or move to Joplin.

I Wonder What the Prize Will Be?

I. Am. Speechless. And I'm rarely speechless.

When I just heard this news on the radio I really thought someone was quoting an article from The Onion. But no. It seems to be something that's actually going to happen. On the taxpayer's dime.

General Martin Dempsey, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, announced today the establishment of an Essay Contest to honor Saudi King Abdullah bin Abdulaziz who passed away last week. This contest will take place at the National Defense University (NDU). Defense.gov reports:

“This is an important opportunity to honor the memory of the king, while also fostering scholarly research on the Arab-Muslim world, and I can think of no better home for such an initiative than NDU,” Dempsey said in a statement announcing the competition.  

The competition will focus on issues related to the Arab-Muslim world and is designed to encourage strategic thinking and meaningful research on a crucial part of the world. The program will be in place at NDU for the next academic year . . .  .

To HONOR a man who reigned over a nation that beheads people and treats women like chattel in the twentieth-first century.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have no objection to NDU students engaging in scholarly research concerning the Middle East or Muslim nations in general. Such endeavors have led to important policy measures in years past about our relations with, and approach to, emerging powers such as Russia, China, and the like. After all, as GI Joe informed us, "Knowing is half the battle."


To do so, however, to "honor the memory" of a beast -- and he was a beast, regardless of his "friendliness" toward the United States -- is distasteful at best, and Lord only knows how bad at worst.

But, should we be surprised by this development?  Remember this?

No envoy to the recent multi-nation march in Paris. No envoy to Margaret Thatcher's funeral. No envoy to the funeral for the first two star general killed in action in Afghanistan. But, Obama cuts short a trip to India to "pay his respects" to this pig. Pay something anyway.

Oh, pardon me. I'm certain the term "pig" is offensive to the deceased.

Good.

AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

More Good News From Your Governments

So now it seems that, to protect their citizens from their own folly, many cities are banning -- wait for it -- SLEDDING!!!

As a lawyer, I can appreciate the potential liability issues, but as an American citizen and adult human being, I detest being treated like a child. There, there, little lady. Don't tax your pretty little head -- let us do the thinking for you. After all, we know best.

Just consider the near-impossibility of enforcing such an overreaching law. It would do no good to ban the sale of actual sleds -- kids are creative and can turn most anything into a makeshift snow glider.We used to use trash can lids when I was a kid. And somebody's always got cardboard.

And, what's the penalty for engaging in said banned activity? Throw gleeful schoolkids in the hoosegow?

Sheesh. No one overthought this nifty little idea, huh.

Farewell, Rosebud and American Flyer.

We're doomed.

Overload. Heading to the Deck.

So.

Human jackals are looting the crash site of the MalaysianAir passenger plane, shot down with missile fire by who knows.  There is escalated ethnic cleansing of Christians in Iraq by ISIS, without comment from the Obama administration.  On the same day, within hours of one another, two federal Circuit Courts issued conflicting rulings on Obamacare's individual mandate and premium subsidies, thus suggesting an expedited hearing by the Supreme Court on the law's future with a scary, unpredictable CJ Roberts in the fold. And my babiest baby has yet to recover emotionally from having to put her precious pup, Zeus, down.

And, it appears that chipmunks love to devour green cherry tomatoes.  Even those planted in containers. Alvin has ceased to be cute.

Have I mentioned how very peaceful is the view from my back deck when the trees are leafed out?

Thankfully.

Can We Say, "Overkill?"

The opening paragraph of an article in today's  Arkansas Democrat-Gazette reads:

Police arrested a 52-year-old man Wednesday who was trying to hold up a bank branch using a small cannon-shaped figurine.

The article goes on to describe how the man placed the figurine on the branch manager's desk in Fort Smith and belligerently demanded "thousands of dollars."  The manager was able to set off the bank's alarm and police were soon on the scene.  They arrested the man and charged him with disorderly conduct, public intoxication (surprise!), and attempted aggravated robbery.

Wait. What?

Aggravated felonies contemplate the use of some sort of deadly weapon.  The Wiki says, "aggravated robbery involv[es] use of a deadly weapon or something that appears to be a deadly weapon."

Not that I'm advocating bank robbery or anything, but classifying what occurred in Fort Smith as aggravated anything seems a bit over the top.  And I understand that society is growing way too Second Amendment-phobic, and kids get suspended from school for drawing pictures of guns, but seriously?  The guy was soused!  I doubt one can even form the requisite scienter when he is that plowed.  

I'd better go tell Pepper he needs to file for a permit for that model cannon that was given to him by the Field Artillery battalion when he left command of the 39th. We wouldn't want him to get thrown in the hoosegow for possession of an unregistered decorative item.

Have we arrived at a point in history where we must register scary tchotchkes?

I'd say that very idea is scary enough.

Isaac, the Unwelcome Guest

The timing is pretty lousy.

Pepper spent the morning nailing shutters closed while I picked up outdoor knick-knacks.  The generator is primed and non-perishable foodstuffs are at the ready.  We're going to Lowe's this afternoon to pick up a few solar lights -- they work great when the power goes out at night. 

Then we wait.

And try to keep a sense of humor:

But, the lousy timing -- the anniversary of Katrina -- is pretty bad.  I had to re-schedule my hair appointment!!

Cheers, y'all.  Keep us in your positive thoughts, please.

You're Secondary in Your Children's Hearts, American Parents

The Young President arrived in New Orleans on Wednesday to snarl traffic, raise campaign funds, and to define his position on government's role in our lives during a speech he delivered to the Urban League convention. He actually uttered the words in quotations. The AP reports:

Obama's message was comprehensive, but he ultimately did not promise anything specific. He spoke of community policing strategies and mental health centers, or programs that steer people away into safe activities instead of gang violence, of ensuring that parents and teachers step in to fill a hole in a child's heart "that government alone cannot fill."

Parents should step up to fill a hole in their children's hearts that government alone cannot fill?!?!" Seriously?!?! Did those words come from the mouth of Barack Obama or Hugo Chavez? Oh. That's what I thought. To repeat the obvious, we simply cannot give this guy a second, lame duck term in the White House.

I'm Too Relieved to be Too Terribly Angry

Way back on April 15th, Pepper and I did the Concealed Carry Course and I mailed off our packets the next day.  The packets were returned some three weeks later because I had enclosed personal checks for the fees instead of cashier's checks.  I corrected the oversight and mailed them back in the next day.

*sigh*

My 34th anniversary gift was a sweet little .22 that fits my hand perfectly, together with a neat little holster that nestles divinely in the small of my back.

Our anniversary was June 9th.

Still waiting.

Having been mailed from Baton Rouge on July 3rd, Pepper's permit arrived in our mailbox last Saturday, the 7th.  He and Bouie have been having safer walks since.  But what about Moogie's?

Do you see where this is going?

I rifled through Saturday's mail in the trash and combed through magazines and advertising circulars searching for the envelope.  I was just about to fear I'd failed the background check, but I strongly suspected that an envelope bearing the return address, "Concealed Handgun Permit Unit," had been mis-delivered by our cracker-jack postal carrier to some thug's house who was going to alter the photo and use it for no good.  I've re-delivered mis-delivered mail so often around here that I should be on the USPS payroll.  Then, this afternoon I got a Facebook message from my good neighbor to tell me that he had just put an important-looking envelope in my mailbox that had been delivered to his house by mistake.  And my good neighbor is not a thug!!

So, now I'm legal!!!

Thanks, R.C.!

(The picture of me is absolutely horrid, so I covered it up to spare your eyes.  I hope I don't ever have to show it to anyone!)

Next Up fom the Enumerated Taxation Power --

Makes sense to me.

*sigh*

The Best of Healthcare Reform

I spent a good deal of the morning re-reading my posts on Healthcare Reform dating back to 2009.  It turns out that I was pretty spot on about a lot of stuff.  There are 43 of them, but these are some of my favorites:

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Words Not Necessary

Courtesy of IMAO.

 

 

And:

 

Sunday, November 8, 2009

The Health Care Reform Vote and the Slow-Learners in Congress

I obviously have not forgiven him for uttering it, because I certainly haven't forgotten it, but my husband made an observation a number of years ago that I think has particular applicability to Congress's vote last night on the House health care reform bill.

When I was first learning to play at golf (I still haven't learned to "play" it, just "play at" it), Pepper and I started playing "Twilight Couples" rounds in which we were paired with another couple and assigned some bizarre format designed to produce a divorce or two per round. On one of those blissful Friday evenings, I blew a putt. Actually, I had blown several putts on several different holes in one of those formats that, in addition to boosting the bottom line at the divorce lawyer's firm, had the added benefit of torturing the weaker player in a twosome.

 

The "weaker player" -- that would be me.

 

Anyway, after I blew the third or fourth putt, my precious soulmate turned red in the face as that vein in his forehead popped out, stared me down, and in a measured tone a few octaves higher than his normal speaking voice that turned the surrounding air a little blue, spat out the words: "G.D., Moogie! Even a monkey learns after watching other monkeys for a little while!!!"

 

For some reason that I still fail to understand to this day, I chose to finish the round and not leave him. And a few days later, I got a really nice gift -- it may even have been sparkly. That's kinda how my precious soulmate apologizes when he knows he's really screwed up.

 

So, when that memory floated to the top of my consciousness this morning as I dissected yesterday's House vote in my cozy bed, a whole bunch of monkeys and apes sprang to life right before my eyes. Monkeys named Canada, Sweden, England, Massachusetts, Tennessee. Apes that had played with socialized healthcare and figured out that it doesn't work; monkeys that watched its citizens losing way too many balls in a bottomless rough without boundaries; apes that were living the old joke about how to play a really long round with the partner who had a heart attack on the course: hit the ball, drag Fred; hit the ball, drag Fred.

 

Next, I realized that I'm Fred. You'll be Fred. Our grandkids will have to pay Fred's greens fees and drag us around without so much as being able to tee one up. And then I realized that those monkeys we've been watching have given up on this game because the rules aren't fair, the game is way too confusing and expensive, and there aren't enough tee times to go around.

 

Damn, Congress! Even monkeys can learn after watching other monkeys for awhile!

 

Those apes on Capitol Hill must be a little slow. We'll have to use very small words while explaining the error of their way. And take away their bananas.

 

Somehow I don't think we'll be getting a nice gift, though -- sparkly or otherwise. Maybe just a little more monkey poo flung in our direction.

 

Yeah, I certainly feel like I've been pelted with monkey poo today.  *sigh*

Speechless

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around what CJ Roberts has done, so I won't comment yet.  I will share, however, a few of the goodies knocking around Facebook today.

This one might say it all.

The Obama Campaign: Dilettantes in Paradise

My, my.  I haven't been around for quite awhile!  I must make up for that.

I've been stewing in something for a little while, and I think I've finally put my finger on why the latest Obama campaign fundraising scheme makes me so very livid angry.  You know the one I'm talking about -- the scheme wherein the Young President suggests . . . no, the scheme in which he outright asks you to forego birthday or wedding gifts, and instead suggest that your friends and family make a donation to his campaign in your name because that's a gift that "goes a lot further than a gravy bowl," and "it’s a great way to support the President on your big day."

For real.  It's called The Obama Event Registry.

First off, the traditional wedding gift to which the campaign so snarkingly refers is a gravy boat, not a gravy bowl.  Anyone with half an ounce's training in etiquette, protocol, or even common table manners knows what this is:

Who do they have running that campaign, anyway? A bunch of Occupy Wannabes?

Next, most everybody I know awakens on his birthday or wedding day and immediately thinks, "I wonder what I can do today, my special day, to redistribute some wealth support the president's re-election campaign?"  Sure!

But finally, what really galls my soul is this: the pure, simple, unending, unconcerned narcissism of politicians has finally gone over the edge with this one.  But this "idea" goes beyond the narcissistic; it approaches the tawdry.  Simple Narcissism was the cloak worn so ably and easily by former White House denizen, Bill Clinton. 

Example from personal experience:

Way back in 1992, when then-Governor Clinton was kicking his run for the Oval Office into high gear (after having told his Arkansas constituency in 1990 that he no longer had much "fire in his belly" to think about seeking the presidency, so please re-elect him to the Governor's Mansion and don't worry about him abandoning you in mid-term), I was teaching a grant-funded Summer Enrichment program for high school students at the UALR School of Law entitled, "L.R. Law."  (Remember the old tv series, LA Law? Yeah, bad pun.)  My staff (of one) and I had two weeks to immerse the kids in the legal system of central Arkansas, teaching them and exposing them to a little bit about trials, evidence, courts, and the criminal justice system.  The capstone activity of the program was Mock Trial, in which teams of students prosecuted a made-up civil lawsuit in teams -- the Finals were to be held in the rather impressive, refurbished Art Deco courtroom in the law school, and judged by law school faculty.  The kids were really excited about it and we practiced in the courtroom often so they wouldn't be quite so nervous.

Three days before the Finals, the Dean contacted me with an unexpected opportunity for the kids -- Bill Clinton was making a campaign stop in Little Rock and wanted to address a group of high school kids.  Since school was out of session, we were the logical go-to group.  Not being a huge Clinton fan, I must say that I wasn't exactly excited about the prospect.  After figuring out how to re-schedule the opening morning session the next day, while acknowledging that this could be a once-in-a lifetime chance for many of those kids to rub elbows with national figures, and knowing that "Clinton Time" was not called that for just any old reason -- he notoriously ran late to almost any event -- I gave in and told the kids about the opportunity to hear and ask questions of the sitting Governor and potential President of the United States.

He was in rare Clintonesque form and didn't disappoint -- the students were amazed when he called me by name as he was performing the ol' handshake/pat on the shoulder maneuver, and he asked how Pepper was doing.  (They both grew up in Hot Springs, and had also had some -- encounters -- during Pepper's National Guard service.  But that's another story).  He was charming and engaging and charismatic, listening to the mesmerized kids express their hopes and dreams for the future ("Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" was played to accompany the local tv news pieces on the campaign stop -- of course). 

He also ran 1 1/2 hours late while I tried to figure out how to entertain 24 high school kids in the Law Library chosen by the Campaign for its scholarly appointments and commanding view of the Arkansas River, but not very conducive to conducting classes/exercises.  All in all, it was probably a good experience for the kids, even if it did frazzle me to the Nth degree. 

But, we were able to get in one final practice in the courtroom before the kids departed for the day. 
And, then, the Big But happened -- as I was kicking off my shoes in my office and preparing to tweak the next day's closing events, the phone rang.  On the other end was someone from the Campaign Scheduler's Office.

They wanted to use the law school courtroom the next day as a legal-ish backdrop for some nitpicky policy announcement to be made by Candidate Clinton.  And they needed it all afternoon in case they had to do several takes.  And they were very sorry about my kids, but were sure that, since the Candidate had spent time with them earlier, the kids would understand why they would now be performing their mock trials in the classroom instead of the impressive courtroom, replete with bench, witness stand, counsel tables, and jury box.  The Candidate would provide autographed photos to each child to assuage his disappointment.

And they left me to tell the kids.  Let me tell you what a roomful of deflated, dressed to lawyer-ize, high school kids looks like.  No, you don't want to know; it's too painful.

Then, the Candidate only used the courtroom for 30 minutes and I didn't find out about it until it was too late -- I could've juggled the schedule around that brief interlude and the kids could've had a much better experience.

And I've had little to no trust in the sincerity of any political candidate's expression of genuine support for education, and helping the little guy, and sharing the "stuff" with the common man ever since.  The expression "ringing hollow' doesn't come close to how those words echo in my ears.

So when the incumbent president asks young people to give up their biggest chance to start lives together with nice things -- or just with things that they don't have to buy -- in order to support his campaign . . .  I have to get up and walk around the house for a few minutes to cool off while typing this post.

A Lesson in Style and Thrift Brought to You by the First Mother

From today's in-box:

Way to set an example there, 'Shelly.

Your Government Scam du Jour

All I have to say about this is:  Holy.  Crap.


We are doomed.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Commander in Chief

Stolen from Facebook

I think he wears it a little too well.

Inbox Phishing

There seems to be a spate of these things circulating lately.  I've been forwarding them to whichever entity's identity has been compromised.  Sometimes the compromised entity thanks me for my vigilance.  Someday soon, when I have enough time, I'm gonna play with the phishermen a wee bit.  In the meantime, here's today's latest scam.  It's enough to send the grammar police into cardiac arrest:

Sent: Monday, April 09, 2012 5:18 AM
Subject: UPDATE YOUR COX ACCOUNT NOW !

Attention: Cox Users,

We are kindly bringing to your Notice that our customer service will be damaging down some E-mail accounts from our data base,

due to the high number of different E-mail Accounts that has been Violated by our E-mail policy, terms and conditions we are destroying down some E-mail users.

if you still choose to maintain your email with us.you are adviced to send the informations below

E -mail...................

Password....................

Birth date...................

Cox Pin.....................

You are to send your details to this email only ( update2020@qatar.io )

Account owner that refuses to maintain his or her account after 3-4 working days of this notification will loose his/her account permanently from our site.

COX COMMUNICATIONS

© 1998-2012 Cox Communications, Inc.

I'd really hate to loose my account or have it damaged down.  Think I should send my social security number, too, just so the dude in Qatar won't destroy down my email?

Nah.  I'll take my chances.

It's a Good Thing the Grass is Dormant . . .

After a long holiday weekend with friends and family, and after dealing with construction management hell, and after successfully avoiding retail establishments on Black Friday -- and after the Hogs gave that little squeaker to the Tiggers -- Pepper and I made it back to New Orleans yesterday afternoon in plenty of time to unpack and thaw something from the freezer before the Saints/Giants kickoff.  And, what a lovely victory that was, but I digress.

So, this morning I walked Pepper out to the truck in the cold air, carrying his coffee mug, when he asked, "Why is this open?" pointing to the hasp that keeps our back gate secure.  I replied, "And where is the [dog leash] clip?" that we use to keep it locked.

I knew that I double-checked the gate before we left for Little Rock because I went out back to do just that after I had double-checked one of the back doors and found it unlocked.

Pepper stepped out onto the sidewalk and spied the clip in the flowerbed.

Great.

He said, "Can you tell if anything's missing?"  And I replied, "You mean like the lawn mower?"

And we just stared, for several moments, at the suddenly very empty spot where the mower used to sit.  Then we fanned out to try to discern whether anything else was missing.  Generator?  Present.  Porsche?  Present, locked, and intact.  Chainsaw?  Present and accounted for.  It seems that just the lawn mower went on walkabout. Or rollabout.

Crap, nonetheless.

So, Pepper shook his head, climbed into the truck, and headed downtown.

I went inside to file the police report.

Remember when Moogie mounted the Neighborhood Watch sign way back in 2009?

Before our neighborhood was able to call itself officially a Neighborhood Watch area, worthy of displaying the signs, a certain number of residents had to undergo a series of weekly trainings about observation, crime-fighting resources, etc.  One little tidbit I found particularly valuable was the training Officer's explanation of the Non-emergency Police number.  His admonition to use that number when merely reporting something suspicious or minor, so that we wouldn't tie up the emergency 911 operators, struck me as important enough that I programmed the number into my cell phone (along with the FBI's and the DEA's!) right then and there.

Today, I'm not so sure why they bother to maintain separate numbers.

The same people answer the non-emergency number as the emergency 911 number. 

Now I understand why one reads about people getting busy signals, or being put on hold, when calling 911.  Even so, the nice Non-Emergency-911 lady said she could take my call and send over some uniformed officers.

Of course, when I asked one of the officers (who responded within 15 minutes, by the way!) why that was the case and explained that I didn't want to tie up the line in case someone had a real emergency, he told me that you wouldn't believe why some people call 911.  One of his favorites was the mother who wanted the police summoned to tell her teenage daughter that she couldn't go out dressed "like that."  Sheesh.

Anyway, the officers asked me a bunch of questions and talked to one another in code about how they would classify this incident since our garage is open-air on the sides and wouldn't totally support a classification of breaking and entering or burglary.  P.S., Crime statistics are very important in Orleans Parish.  I told them I'd be happy to settle for a little Criminal Trespass and Theft of Property valued at less than $500.00, because I doubted whether we'd ever see the mower again.

I remarked that whoever did it had to know enough about us to figure out that we were leaving town -- Bouie went with us to Little Rock; his big voice has chased many a miscreant away from the yard. -- and how to reach over the gate to unlatch the clip.  He said his best guess was that it was done by some crackhead who regularly strolled the neighborhood looking for jobs cutting grass to support his habit and eat.  I'd say that's probably pretty close to hitting it right on the nose.  And pretty creepy.

So, after the officers did much talking on the radio (while in possession of my drivers license. ???) and filling out paperwork and consulting with other cops, I now have in my possession an official "NOPD Form 26" telling me that I may acquire an official Police Report in 14 -21 "working days,"  for a fee. 

So, if it's not bad enough that you've been robbed already, the City sticks it to you again if you want to file an insurance claim which, in this case, would just be a worthless effort.

By the way, it must have been a slow crime day in the Crescent City -- they sent 2 squad cars and 4 policemen to investigate a stolen lawn mower.

And that picture at the top?  That shiny new padlock is today's MVP -- Most Valuable Purchase! In the sack is a length of chain for the front gate (and another padlock) since it's now cold enough to shrink the metal to where the tongue in the lock won't stay engaged. If the worthless, self-entitled miscreants want to get in again, they're going to have to work for it.

*sigh*

Some People Need to Break Out of Their Own Little Universe

If I had to choose one thing that makes that big vein in Pepper's temple swell and pulse to beat the band, it's encountering another driver who is talking, or texting, on a cell phone.  (Asian women drivers in New Orleans are a close second, but cell phones definitely win). 

I can usually tolerate chatting drivers, unless they're totally distracted and approaching me under head-on-collision conditions, but I saw something today that I. Could. Not. Believe.

I was sitting at a red light and heard/saw an ambulance coming down the four-lane cross-street with lights flashing and siren blaring.  There were several cars ahead of it, most of which were jockeying for position to get out of its way.  Most of them, that is, except for the lady talking on the cell phone and gesticulating wildly as she moseyed on down the road in her silver Altima, totally oblivious to the ambulance on her rear bumper.  I mean totally oblivious.

She didn't even react when the driver honked at her as he turned onto the side street where Touro Hospital is located.  I suppose Touro was its destination, and that tells me that it was loaded with someone in enough medical distress to summon an ambulance.  And with the cost of medical transport these days, there had to be plenty of medical distress involved to make that kind of investment!  And, although unlikely, that woman could potentially have cost that patient precious seconds in receiving life-saving treatment!

They say that what goes around, comes around, and that Karma is a bitch.  If that's the case -- and I do believe it is -- I'd say that we should all steer clear of the lady in the silver Altima for the near future.

Sheesh.  Some people.