text:
Death Has
Wave Of Mutilation
Cease to resist, giving my goodbye
Drive my car into the ocean
You'll think I'm dead, but I sail away
On a wave of mutilation
A wave
I've kissed mermaids, rode the El Niño
Walked the sand with the crustaceans
Could find my way to Mariana
On a wave of mutilation,
Wave of mutilation
Wave of mutilation
Wave of mutilation
Copying poetry out of my poetry book into my laptop, sitting by the pool, drinking rum and cokes and listening to the Hooters Greatest Hits. It hits me all of a sudden while Johnny B. is playing); "I'm not coming back from this cruise." Overwhelming panic whelms up in me followed by assault waves of depression. Good god, it's only a feeling. Don't mean anything. But how can you ignore something like that? Is it fixed in stone, your destiny or is it a warning? Jesus, what if it is just a feeling but you believe in the damned thing so much that it actually happens— psyched yourself out, to death? Maybe, the feeling didn't say you were going to die specifically, maybe it means that you just won't come back physically, or that you will come back but will be different, the old you dying and being reborn anew.
Oh god, who knows?
Last Flight Out…
Just took off from
Been kinda down all day. Helped Buddy on the boat, looked for some new speakers and helped
How do you explain to your mom or dad that you're going to go do something you have to do but don't know if you're going to come back? How do you tell anyone? How do you take it seriously? How do you not?
Goodbye is Never Easy
The stars aren't
out tonight
and I ponder Death.
Outside Pete's
the waves crash up on the beach
and inside
the jukebox plays Pearl Jam—
10, Jeremy;
reminds me of Waldo's.
And somewhere
in the
my death looms
like a quickly approaching albatross
around my neck—
how to avoid it,
how to meet it,
how to master it?
fills my soul
and yet,
you only die once
why miss it,
why lose it,
why not enjoy it?
So many things
yet to do;
is never easy.
Stumbled into CVIC approx 0545 local the day before we're supposed to leave on a six-month deployment for the Med and the
Pulled out today. Wasn't topside so I didn't see the sun, the crowd, or if there were any birds flying— an omen to the Greeks. Only 180 days; half a turn, cycle, the other way.
What do you do with a feeling? What do you do with a feeling that you will not return from something alive? Is the future locked in concrete? Can it be changed by foresight and appropriate action? Or have you bought your ticket and you ride the ride— hoping like hell your car doesn't leave the rails? Does having a feeling and believing in it make it more real for you, or is it like a radar detector— trouble on the road ahead, better slow down and act right?
Maybe the big thing is that I've never dealt with the idea of my own mortality before. The idea, at first is a little overwhelming at first. Everybody dies— life is terminal— but you're not supposed to wake up one morning and realize that you're going to die in X number of days. That is disquieting as hell. It is just supposed to happen, out of the blue; like waking up from a drunken night— how the hell did this happen?
I don't know on what principle the universe operates on when it comes to pre-cognition and the future but I intend to be one fighting mother-fucker when the time comes.
Man overboard about 1500 today. Snaps me out of my sleep. Fumbling for boots and a shirt, where the hell is my hat? Fuck it. Tell Dave, "This had better be for real." Fucked up thing to say but sleep is sacred. Forgot to even put a pair of shorts on. Running around in my boxers, who plans these kinds of things? At least the ship isn't on fire this time, berthing filling up with smoke, EEBD plastic wrapper thick between your fingers.
This is not a drill, visual sighting of a blue shirt in the water—no float coat. At first, wondering, is this an omen? Are the bad jujus going to follow us for the next 182 days? But no, this kind of shit happens. They have him sighted and two helos in the air. Big scare, part of the job. Everyone go back to sleep, nothing to see here.
Back in my rack. Can't sleep.
This is different then when the HH-60 went down with four crew during JTF-EX 97-1. Flying is a tricky, unnatural business with inherent risks. You volunteer for that shit. Regrettable but it happens. This however, was a working joe; airman nobody just going about his job. Nothing extra special, nothing extra dangerous, just another day of duty in a routine that can become hazardously repetitive. We are not safe; the ju-ju's locked on in spite of our jamming, jinxing, chaff, and flares. Doze off listening to The Church, "…day of the dead down in
Damn CTs. Feet slapping on the deck and their shitty smelling voices— too damn loud. Rumor mill: he/she was depressed about a wife wanting a divorce, jumped over the side. Rumors, goddamned rumors. Maybe it's true. We'd be off the hook then. No bad omens, no ju-jus, just some poor heart broke schmuck who couldn't go on. Regrettable, terribly sad, tragic I'm sure to some people. But it means that we're safe for the moment. No missiles inbound, no Iranian suicide boats, no mines in the straits or subs lurking for us just below the thermal layer. Grace, a reprieve, the future still ours to fuck up.
1815 local: Captain on the 1MC again, she appears to have jumped over the side. Witnesses and all that. Two life rings tossed over the side within fifteen feet of her and a helo over the sight in less than a minute. I don't understand, how could they not get her out unless she was sucked under by the screws. The Captain has to feel pretty bad since we didn't swing the ship around but headed off into the wind to recover aircraft overhead. And we're going on, heading east across the Big Pond about midnight. I wonder if this will blow up into a copycat thing? Who's to say? We keep going on, and on, until they're not enough people to run the ship and then we go home. For what? "…we can drive it home with one headlight…" time is transparent, the tragedy is believing in the illusion. A hero, a quitter, a voice strong and clear, or a strangled cry in the warm Atlantic sun? I'll never know and maybe I won't even remember in a week. At the end of every life is a window ledge; only some people decide to jump. I don't know that today was a good day to die, yet someone did. So long, fair winds and following seas.
Walked up into the center last night feeling shitty. Overslept, bad dreams, very negative, very down. Chaos, mass confusion, cluster fuck. It seems that somehow we have detected a sperm whale trapped in a driftnet and the admiral has taken it upon himself to free the fucking thing using SEALs. Supplot needs info fast and quick. We are supposed to lead the pack in providing all-source available intel. This is a fucking joke right? They wouldn't even turn the boat around when the dame heaved herself over the side and now they've made the decision to risk men's lives in the water with a 50-foot beast that is probably enraged and can stun giant squid with the sound of its voice alone. Unreal.
About this time four years ago, the
Soon the air is rife with cordite and bouncing tracers. Things are not looking good for the fridge. Eventually, they even broke out the M-79 (grenade launcher) and popped off 40mm grenades at the thing from the bridge wing with spectacular if not conclusive results. Some four hours and about10, 000 round later the fridge was still floating. I'm certain that someone brought up the idea of shooting off a Mk 32 ADCAP torpedo at the thing but the CO would have had a hard time justifying that expense, especially on a fridge; and it was already going to be hard enough to do with the small arms ammo they'd just burned though. This isn't good and it's beginning to look like Brer Cruiser and the Tar Refrigerator.
Next they called for the at-sea-fire-party, who immediately set about breaking out hoses, connecting couplers, twisting valves, and charging lines. The whole dirty lot mustered up on the foc'le, in what may have been a clever attempt by some chief or divo to get the fuckers wet and clean, with a fire hose in an attempt to sink the fridge by filling it with water.
Now, somebody forgot to tell the stupid OOD, or CO, or XO that refrigerators are made out of Styrofoam, which has the peculiar quality of floating on any liquid, and is not susceptible to any but the heaviest of firepower, say a 5 inch/.54 cal gun, which we did not have. Granted, with the rounds that had actually impacted the fridge, which was nowhere near the 10,000 expended, the thing would never properly function as a fridge again but it still wasn't enough to sink it. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to realize that if you were to fill the free space in a fridge with water you couldn't even achieve neutral buoyancy, much less sink the thing. Well, if nothing else, we proved that there were no rocket scientists on the RKT that day.
So, the at-sea-fire-party proceeded to hose the damn thing down for about an hour when somebody finally caught on and secured the water. The engineers began to drain and roll up their hoses, heads hung in defeat; they had achieved nothing more than the gunner's mates and had been far less amusing to watch. Ultimately the RKT pulled along side the fridge, the deck apes of 1st division grapple-hooked it and heaved it up on deck, and then proceeded to tear the shit out of it with fire axes. RKT: 1, kinda. Fridge: 0, kinda.
So, screw the girl and save the whale. Girls committing suicide get you no medal or press and trapped whales do. But there are some things that even the mightiest navy in the world shouldn't fuck with and that's Mother Nature and refrigerators.
I guess the only funny side to this is the phone bill that Dave ran up on the POTTs line calling all over the world trying to find a marine biologist to get info so the SEALs would stand a chance. That's what we do, that's what we're about down here in Supplot. He called some school in
About 75% of my 12hr watch at night is spent scanning through reams and reams of message traffic. Bits and pieces of information that flow into national and theater level agencies through back doors, over encrypted circuits, in defense courier briefcases, down-linked from satellite imagery, handed in from people with no names or faces and all this is piled together like pieces in a puzzle with no definite picture or border and is assembled as someone's best edumacated guess before being beamed out over the Navy-wide intel HF Long Haul broadcasts or beamed up SHF to comm sats overhead. And many times, many, many times, the assembled puzzle/picture ends up not representing or even looking like the real thing, a constantly changing chimera.
I sit, bathed in blue light, and sift through all these intel reports looking for a gem, a nugget, panning for some truth or warning—indications and warning—the first clue that someone out there is trying to kill us, has decided to poke the proverbial stick in the white-satinist-capitalist-dog-USA's eye by popping off a couple SS-N-2d Styx or MM-38 Exocet missiles at the old USS John F. Kennedy.
So, death is my job. I don't deal in it, that is left to the less refined, the less perceptive; no, I track it. Death is a virus, a cancer that can spring up anywhere given the right clime, the right factors. Death does not operate in a vacuum, it needs geopolitical light, it needs religious heat, ideology, tyranny, and mob mentality to grow. And I track the growth:
This is all done at the top secret compartmentalized level to keep the facts, the truth from the ignorant masses— the airman who runs his ass off nineteen hours a day on the flight deck, or the sweaty, pimply mess crank who serves up 12,000 meals a day to an ungrateful crew, the disbursing officer who's only here because it was the only way she could afford college and now she's indentured to the Navy for another four years— none of these people want to know the complete and total ease with which the world can come in and make them dead without their permission, or without even having done anything except being American and on a big haze-gray boat.
But all that is only the preparation, no risk involved in that, no balls to the walls or pucker factor ten, hoping you don't piss yourself. All that can be done from the safety of your own home, halfway round the world if you have the right equipment. No, the real money, the payoff is when you're actually there, the real thing, transiting through the straits of Hormuz, or steaming south pass the Line-of-Death to kick Khadafi once in the teeth for all that's right and good in the world. That's when we really begin to earn our pay, glued to our monitors and circuits—watching, listening, feelers spread out all over like an octopus, information, indications, warnings coming in, small voices, birds whispering in your ear as the sweat trickles down the small of your back and you suck in another labored plastic breath through your gasmask because now, death has biologicals.
The ship's sensors extend out around 120nm, this can be extended by an E-2C Hawkeye, an electronic eye-in-the-sky; but our senses go far beyond that and we can see you as you climb in your planes, as you load up the AS-11's and AS-9 anti-radiation missiles; we can see as the Kilo SS tosses off all lines and noses out into international waters, as you load up CSSC-3 coastal defense missiles on their launchers and warm up the target acquisition radars. We see and hear all this, guardian angel eyes and ears over the battlegroup, warning the TAO, the captain where the danger lies, where the potential for death is hidden. Avoid death at all costs. There will be no killing today.
Things grow tenser everyday in the Persian Gulf, with
Algerians blowing up high schools and killing kids, some hard-line Islamist quoted as saying that the Koran allows for the killing of women in the name of revolution. What the fuck? South Africa where the ambulances are converted APC's—bullet proof and gel filled tires so they won't go flat when shot—and the paramedics respond more like a commando team, armed and fast 'cause if the clan finds out that the victim is still alive they'll return to finish the job.
I can't talk about the shit; it pisses the living hell out of me. Death is what they all deserve, or to live in a cage like a fucking animal because that is what they have reverted to. Send in the B-52's and Arc Light the fuck out of them till they are all dead. No one is innocent. But does that make me like them, has that dropped me to their level? An eye for an eye? Life is precious. Two sides of the coin. Most people don't realize that they can, and do feel exactly two or more ways about one thing. What's wrong with that? We approach life at many levels. But which one is right? Is there a right one? Situational ethics? A stringent code of honor?
It's easy to get caught up in the illusion. To forget that life is a game. So often, locked up in my box for twelve hour stretches, not seeing the sun for weeks on end, no chirping crickets, no rain on the roof, no damned loud annoying robin in the morning, it's easy to forget that the world is still a very beautiful, magical, mystical place full of warmth and love. Don't forget.
Funny, watching things develop with almost a detached eye. There is no fear, almost like the thought never happened. Except, sometimes on watch, out of nowhere, for no good reason, I can feel it burning in the pit of my stomach and I get quiet. Want to run. Nowhere to go. No safe haven to seek refuge in. I wrote sometime last year, "I'm not looking for salvation, to be saved, only a little grace for the monster that I know I have become." I just don't want to die stupidly, because of my own or someone else's, for something stupid, or cowardly. I would say that you should at least be afforded the dignity of dying gallantly or in your bed, although I guess dying at Pete's wouldn't be that bad either, but how many people around the world die every way in the most non-committal ways, just disappearing without a trace?
The samurai used to kill their families before going into combat so that nothing would distract them, no emotion keep them from the task at hand. I can't imagine that. How alien, a man's sense of honor and love, of war, overriding that for his flesh and blood.
Monday was Cinco de Mayo; Dave and I ended up going out with the SEALs on El 4 and shooting with them. Who says saving the poor bastards from a sperm whale doesn't pay? Dave said it was about the damn coolest thing he'd done since he'd been in the Navy, and I'd have to agree with him. I don't think that much can compare with shooting an H&K MP-5 on full auto—
Wielding technology
Dealing death
A double-edged sword
Inchopped the Med 1000B. Went up topside to see what I could see. Never thought I'd see the rock again. To the left, Gibraltar and to the right, Africa, the
Sleek gray porpoises dove and turned, surfing along in the wake next to us. A good omen, to be met at the door by such friendly, and cheerful guests—guardians of the deep, we are in capable hands, er fins. I wonder if they have dolphins/porpoises in the
Sometimes you can feel the panic rising and six months never felt so claustrophobic, like lying in a coffin struggling for breath. You can see some of the people starting to show sign of stress already. Some of that goes away once a routine has been established, but the fact is, some people should not be out here.
I lay awake in my rack and wonder if I am writing this to/for you? I don't want it to be that way. I don't know who you are, a face out of my dreams, and I don't want to write a six-month letter. This is something that you are on the outside of and will have to close your eyes and take my hand to see. This is singularly my life and it may be the last months of it. This is for me, my thoughts, my ideas, the things I see and feel, going on after me. It is a record. This is me, for me. Something that can be shared later but not at the outset, not at the creation. The motivation cannot be you, or anyone else. This is probably not making any sense and all I'm doing is talking myself into tighter circles so I'll stop.
The following came to me in a dream sometime last year (2/20/96) and I actually remembered it to write it down:
I went down to
to cross as many bridges as I could
before I died.
We have arrived. We are on station. It's all for real now.
Demons, Epiphanies and Hidden Moments
And you sailed where Leviathan
where demons lived—
that vast greatness of nothing—
and at some point
no matter how busy you stayed
you found yourself
suddenly, unexpectedly
facing the one
that belonged to you
and time stopped, stretching
into Oblivion.
More often though,
a quiet, perfect moment
would sneak up on you—
glimpsing a sunset
through the hanger doors
or from the fantail,
Orion from a red-tinted
and hushed bridge
or a 2 A.M. cigar on the catwalk
under the brightest
stars in the world.
And suddenly
you remembered something
long forgotten—
that everything was right
and as it should be.
Day 17
The cigarette paper was wet on my lips, clump of clove clinging to my tongue; I never should've come out here tonight—staring down the barrel of a gun. The half-gone moon floats ¾'s across her nightly arc, a bridge shimmering white, stretching west, beckoning—so easy to just step off this liberty-bound boat and disappear over the horizon without a backward glance. West again, it's always west calling my name; forever lurking under my nose only to pop up on nights like this to grab my attention. I shouldn't have come out here. But I'm going east—back into history, back into time, into the barrel of a gun. The straits of Hormuz, clouded in a haze of red: C-802 range rings, Mig-29 CAP stations, missile patrol craft sortie routes, submarine op areas, and coastal surveillance radar coverage zones—the straits of death—the barrel of a gun.
Day 19
Notre Dame—sitting here alone, entombed in this gothic monstrosity of beauty and wonder, waiting. Waiting for some hope, some sign, a signal, burning ecstasy in my heart, a soaring of the soul, some kind of nod or wink from a god that I don't believe in; something that will get me through the straits. I am waiting; I am wanting, ready; for some token that my life has some meaning in the grand scope of things beyond Sept '97. But there is nothing, nothing at all. My soul, my life remains firmly rooted on the ground. If nothing else, I should be in complete awe of this architectural wonder and I can barely muster that up.
I wander around to the right, carried along by the flow of the crowd, the believers, the sightseers. I pass a statue of Joan of Arc; you can light a candle under her for 10f. They burned her at the stake as a witch and a heretic, now she is a saint. Maybe there is hope for me yet. I want to light a candle—a light against my darkness to find my way home by. I am as familiar with catholic practices as I am with zymurgy. It is better to walk on, away, then to offend. A lady walks up behind me and lights a candle, salvation. I walk back and deposit my 10f investment in the pope and grab a candle. I know no one and am no one—I figure I'll place my candle on the lowest row, a sign of modesty.
You light your candle with the flame of one already burning and then make a prayer, I suppose. I straighten my wick erect and carefully hold it up to another of the candles. I have no prayer in my mind, just a wish maybe, a hope.
To my utter horror, the flame I am holding my candle to goes out—my sign at last. God-Jesus! I fumble and manage to light my candle from another, and then relight the one I inadvertently extinguished. My shame is great. My hope is none.
Letter to Jen
Jen, I see myself reflected in you or a dream of us. And I see myself, not necessarily in a truer light, but in a different one. Thank you, for something so simple yet so complicated.
I am standing outside the crazy restaurant in
Maybe I'm sitting across from Jen, inside, watching her smile. I don't know.
Day 28
Currently participating in some big joint NATO exercise off the southern coast of
I don't know. I'm just rambling. I understand it and I don't.
Death, death, death. What a concept. But I guess that there is nothing conceptual about death is there? The fear really doesn't even hit me anymore except occasionally and I want to say that I'm not necessarily afraid of dying, just adamantly opposed to it at this point. I haven't spoken my piece, done my deed and I am afraid of being choked off in mid sentence.
A cruise, six months, is a very tangible thing. You can hold it in your hands and turn it about, peering at it from any angle; gnaw on the thing and taste the rust, salt-spray, the sweat, and funk. It has a definite beginning and end is very much defined in the middle, in this case 1051 feet long by about 250 feet wide by about some 20-26 stories deep. The whole concept of a cruise really allows you to break off a significant chunk of time and look at it as if it were a day. It gives six months, half a year, a perspective that one can usually not attain. You're locked away, isolated from the things that make up your normal life. They already know you're crazy for being here in the first place. So you are given just about total freedom to experiment with your little rat self in any way you see fit: take on those fears, tackle that weight problem, find Jesus, become a yes-man-promotion-getting-team-player, adopt a new sexuality, whatever the fuck your little ego can dream up for you.
I'm trying not to react to all these assholes like I used to. Part of it is a nod to the fact that I need to mature in that area a bit, and also, I'm just tired of being pissed at these fuckers all the time sans rum—not a good thing to go running around wacked out of your head out here. There is almost an overwhelming sense of freedom about this whole cruise thing. You can just let yourself go for six fucking months and pull back up on the other side. Why be normal, why be insane, why anything. What are they going to do? Lock you up in a box for six months?
Day 39
We pull the hook in about twelve hours and it may not be a moment to soon.
On a personal level the whole scene could pretty much be described as a bust if not a total nightmare. No I didn't end up in some Spanish prison on rape and assault charges (two did and won't be leaving with the boat—trial in a year and not allowed to leave the country; which will then be followed by missing ships movement, UA, and other charges from the Navy when the Spaniards get done with them) or get the shit hammered out of me by the Guardia or some other squid, which seemed to happen entirely to often, but who can say they're surprised? No, came down with a first class case of food poisoning. Woke up in the hotel some time in the middle of the night and hacked my guts up, running a high temp. Slept in and had to walk half an hour to the damn bus stop just to get to fleet landing and get on a ferry for the ship. Got the usual shit at Medical, how do you know you have a temp…do you have a thermometer or something? Shut the fuck up asshole, you ever run a temp of 103 or higher? You know. Ended up with a temp of 104.1, shakes, chills, you name it. Five liters of saline and a day and a half later they cut me loose and send me down to my rack for some Z time. So I'm half way through the day and I wake up to a quick short pain in my fucking jaw, what the hell? Later scrutiny reveals that I have been accosted by a spider or some other chitenous creature from hell and bitten. Great that will balance out the fever blister on the other side of my mouth. By about this time I look like one of the sorry fucker that ran into the wrong end of the Guardia's clubs. There was one of 'em down medical while I was there, off the Avenger. His nose was fucking smashed and taped into place, there were abrasions all down the one side of his face, like the bastards had been rubbing or dragging his face in the asphalt. They were taking x-rays of his head to see if there had been anymore internal damage done. The guy looked like hammered dogshit, I look like a scaled down version of him.
So I've been lying in my rack all day praying for tsunami to come and wipe humanity from the face of this god-forsaken island. This is without a doubt the worst liberty port I've ever been to; over-rated, over-hyped, and totally underdone. GITMO and Rosy were better ports than this. Oh well, when the hook comes up, all debts are paid.
Day 40
The hook is up and back to the grind. We move with the speed of hamsters here and the enthusiasm of whored out junkies. I want you to see this trip, to see me through my work: as a cog, a tool, a part of the machine, as something entirely dispensable, a tragic but necessary (oh really?) write off so this great nation can continue to produce, sell, and drive big, gas-guzzling cars. I only want you here to know me through my job, so that the line between me the person (whoever that is) and my actions blurs until you can no longer tell the difference. Only my job, my excessive drinking, and the afflictions and bewitchments I suffer through; only these. These are my life—shot in scratchy haze-grey black and white with blindingly surreal moments of color.
Once, back when we were in port, the engineers had to bust open a bunch of pipes in one of the heads. Seems someone had managed to flush a foul weather jacket down the toilet. I don't know who did it but I know he was angry, fucking angry. It takes a lot, I mean a lot of work and time to flush a whole foul weather jacket down the toilet. There was effort, determination, a purpose; you don't just flush and go. What he did, to me, it was a work of art; he found a way to express himself and it is obvious to me that he was mother-fucking angry. I'd love to meet the guy and buy him a couple of drinks. I know how he feels.
The national anthem is playing—0800 local everyday in port, every
Up by 1845 (all times are local of course) and push yourself off the deck thirty or forty times before trying to curl yourself off it another 150 times. Or maybe it's up at 1730 to ride the bike, the treadmill, a little reading, or some writing before another monster twelve-hour watch in the tomb of doom (dumb)—SUPPLOT. Struggle up a deck in your damned flip-flops to the head for a shower, brush the old tombstones.
OZ head, the only place on the boat where the engineers won't go. This place is a shithole. Used to be nice, but every motherfucker and his kid brother decided that they'd rather go trash our head than their own. I mean, people walk all the way across the mess decks past five other heads just to use ours. If they trash their own head, they have to clean it, if they trash ours, they don't.
We call the showers, "tropical" showers, 'cause when you step into the stall, it's like stepping into a rainforest—not really, but there's green shit all over the place. It doesn't really come off either; you just paint over it when it gets too bad. When you step into the shower, you have to look first—to make sure that no one shit in it; which happens more than I care to think about. We live with animals. We live like animals.
The big question mark though when it comes to taking showers, is the water. The water could be scalding hot, the water could be ice cold, there could be no water, the water might be full of JP-5, or any combination of the above. When you get a JP-5 shower you actually don't have to towel off as the water just beads off of you like you were coated in Rain X or something.
Day 42
I gotta go back to
This is what happens when you play too fast and loose with the meanings of certain critical words, like "bar".
Day 48
Went to the bullfights yesterday, everything I'd hoped it would be and more. Originally it was Mike, Eve, West, and me but then the entire intel branch came over and sat with us in the western portion of the ring. Several of them were assholes. Mainly in the fact that they didn't see the symbolism, the artistry, the beauty. Limited by western values they only saw a savage, one-sided butchery.
There were four fights. The first was a young kid, probably around 17-18. His bull wasn't too spirited and it took him entirely too long to kill his bull. He couldn't get a clean stick with his sword and he switched to a sword with a barb on either side of the point, which makes the chances of hitting a vital spot better. He kept jabbing the bull in the neck but not getting a clean stick. By that time, everyone was just wishing that he would kill the bull and get it over with. He finally did and the bull went down but it was not a good fight. Francisco Palazon was his name I think.
The next matador was a little older and had a little more style. Before the bull came out he threw his cap into a section of the seats where his friends or followers were sitting. His passes were much closer to the body and he had more flair. His bull was also more spirited. On one pass, one of his shoes came off and he kicked off the other one and approached the bull in stocking'd feet, challenging him. You could sense something in the air, a haughtiness, a taunting, daring the bull, daring death to take his best shot, that shoes were so trivial a matter that he wouldn't even bother with a thought about them. The crowd approved and applauded loudly. It was one of the finer moments of the whole evening. The kill was quick and he was awarded an ear, recognition for an excellent fight.
Not many people sat in the eastern portion of the ring since the sun was still shining on that side and you'd be looking directly into the sun as it went down, plus it was hot. About ten drunk sailors sat over there though, shirts off, looking for all the world like the bleacher-bums at Wrigley field. About once during each fight, the bull would find himself over in that area, looking confusedly up into the bleachers at the ten squids, matador completely forgotten. The squids would jump up and cheer and dance around and the bull would just watch, confused. It was funny as hell and the funnier thing about it was that the locals seemed to find the whole thing funny too. For once the drunks on the Kennedy seemed to do something right.
The third matador was Lola Beltran, a raven-haired beauty with her hair pulled back into a long ponytail (god was she beautiful). The color of her outfit was a deep, blood red. After acknowledging the president of the ring/fight she gave her hat to a helper/friend/relative in the ring behind the protective wall.
Her bull was the liveliest yet and her passes were spectacular. She had a great deal of skill and a sense of style and flair for the drama. She would start the bull in a long charge with a close, slow, sweeping pass that would then transition into a series of short passes, working the bull very close but not letting him build up a head of steam. After the last short pass she would walk away from the bull, back to him, and brandish her sword, striking a pose while the crowd went wild; then she'd face the bull and start the process over.
When she went for the kill, her stick was good and deep. The bull went down on his front knees and then surged back up to all fours. Lola waved off the two (junior?) matadors that came out on either side to tire him and went into her pose for another stick. At this point there was almost as much applause for the bull as there was for Lola. His will to live was strong and you could feel the appreciation for that. The second time did the job and she received more applause than any other matador that day. She was awarded an ear, and threw it up into the crowd just to the left of where I was sitting, Smithers almost caught it. That fight was by far the best fight of the day.
And what was being enacted, the stances, the way the matador and the bull moved, it grabbed you and was understood at a lower level, on a symbolic, ritual level. I don't know if I have the words to do it justice. While my more unconscious and judgmental shipmates saw a senseless slaughter for the amusement of the masses, what was really being played out in the ring, in a microcosm, was the whole panoply of birth and mortality, the dance of life and death, the cosmic cycle. In the closed, sacred space of the ring, the onlookers were allowed to participate, if vicariously, in a ritual that somehow strangely reaffirmed life. It spoke directly to the person's soul, beyond good and bad, right and wrong and said that life creates life, life destroys life, life is life and all is well.
The crowd cheered for the matador, risking life, exemplifying courage, bravery, mastery of the physical, the ability to fight death and win. Yet the matador's who did not respect death, who were not able to quickly and compassionately dispense it, who prolonged the bull's suffering, were not held in as high a regard as those who did and could.
At the same time, the crowd cheered for the bull, sometimes louder than for the matador, for the bull also represented life, wild, abundant life, strong spirit and determination, the will to live, to get up again and again; it represented the ability to strive against the odds, against a certain death and still live in the moment, to be alive until the end and to die with dignity.
Barry Lopez, in writing about wolves and their prey writes,
"We are dealing with a different kind of death from the one men know. When the wolf "asks" for the life of another animal, he is responding to something in that animal that says, "My life is strong. It is worth asking for." …The death is not tragic. It has dignity."[2]
Every person in attendance, consciously or unconsciously, dreamed of being the matador, yet I have to believe that most probably felt a closer connection to the bull; I know I did. For, being skillful enough, surviving the encounter was a likely outcome for the matador; whereas for the bull, death was virtually certain. And each person understood that they had more in common with the bull. But, to live like the matador, to live bravely and then to die like the bull, courageously, that was a well-lived life, a life worth having and a life worth offering up.
"Native American cultures in general stressed that there was nothing wrong with dying, one should only strive to die well, that is consciously choose to die even if it is inevitable. The ability to see death as less than tragic was rooted in a different perception of ego: a person was simultaneously indispensable and dispensable (in an appropriate way) in this world. In the conversation of death is the striving for a death that is appropriate."[3]
What more can you say than that? I saw something that day that, in a way far deeper than words can ever convey, pointed to the fundamental rightness of everything— fear not, death is certain, if not today than one that will follow, so what, play the game well and your time will have been well spent. The old man still sits on the mountain, the world still turns.
Day 50
Jamieson COD'd off today. He received word last night that his wife, or whatever, had lost her child in birth. Hardly surprised, she was terribly overweight. I should feel something I suppose, but the audio signal carries no emotional one with it. I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Sorry for what? I watch hundreds of people die on my screen everyday, come down and see it trivialized on TV for entertainment. This worries me. Am I living in my own calloused little world? Of course I am. Everybody is. But have I lost the ability to empathize, did we ever have it, are we tired of running in circles yet? I could tell you what a weasel he was and how he'd never done an honorable thing in his life and that most people, myself included, loathed him on most days and worse on others. But no man deserves to be kicked when he's down like that.
Jamieson COD'd off today. He received word last night that his wife, or whatever, had lost their child. I wish him the best of luck.
Never got to the fourth bullfight the other day. The last fighter was Yolanda Ramos and I don't even remember what color her outfit was. A pale, subdued, platinum and silver I believe. She had her brown hair braided back and she was Eve's fighter (he and myself having instantly laid claim to each of the two female matadors when they walked into the ring, mine being Lola.) Her bull was possibly the meanest of the bunch that day and she recklessly threw her matador's hat off her head, it landing cup down some twenty feet from her.
Most matadors will carefully place their cap cup down in the ring because, if the cap lands cup side up, it signifies the beggars bowl that the matador's wife/husband and children will ply the streets with after the death of the matador.
She made several close passes with the bull and then she passed him too close and got caught in between the two horns in the meaty part of his head. The bull knocked her over and was trying to gore her but he kept butting her with his head and stepping on her. The other matadors ran out and distracted the bull off Yolanda and she walked over to the ring's edge to get another cape. It looked like she might have taken part of a hoof or horn to the right side of her forehead since a little blood trickled down.
She walked back out into the ring with her cape and sword to thunderous applause. She made several more close passes before getting caught inside the turn of the bull and this time he lifted her up and threw her before stomping her a couple of times. She got back up and still wanted to fight the damned thing. She had guts, but if you walked away from the bull, the ring, would you ever be able to step back in or live with yourself? There is no grey area in the ring, it is only black and white and demands a simple brute level of honesty that most people only dream about and would rather not deal with.
She switched out her swords for the killing one. She made about half a dozen sticks and you could tell she was beat up and shaken because none of the stick had the energy behind them to penetrate very deep and the bull shook each one of them out. She was getting a lot of help from the two matadors on either side of the bull, and finally after a particularly promising stick in which the bull went down, one of the matadors finished off the job with the little knife that they carry.
It was not particularly a good day for Yolanda as she took her bows and applause. Probably none knew it more than her, but she was still alive and there was always the next fight. Such is life.
Southern Cross
Mephistopheles, aye
locked in irons and
ten fathoms deep
on the road to hell—
The last light
held the highest of the clouds
in a dull silver
above the darker gray below
and in between
the jagged 'W' of a solitary
Frigate bird
betwixt sky and sea
effortlessly transitioning
the thermals.
I have come too far—
wasted on the way—
to turn back now,
as the sails briefly billow-
a lone gust
of wind
that has blown
from a very
very long way away.
"I have always been
the anti-hero,"
he thought, hand silently on the tiller
"not the (evil one)
but the outsider
the one with
(the black)
the demon heart…"
And so he laid himself down in peace
upon the Southern Cross—
a sacrifice to life
and love
knowing that
in all its Wisdom and Breadth
would catch him
if he should


text:
Suzuki Swift Sport review
* Swift Sport hot hatch driven * Price 14,000 (est) * On sale January 2012...
What is it? This is the second-generation Suzuki Swift Sport.
The previous model was one of our favourite hot hatches when it was launched in 2006, because of its simple, old-school charms. Now Suzuki has used the same recipe again, but is it enough in a modern-day hot hatch world dominated by 200bhp+ monsters?
Whats it like to drive? The Swifts rev-hungry 1.6-litre petrol engine might dish out a mere 134bhp a fairly tame figure by modern hot hatch standards but the Suzuki weighs a third of a tonne less than a VW Golf GTI, so performance is still lively.
If you keep the revs high, snap through the close-ratio six-speed gearbox (the previous model made do with a five-speed unit) and the Swift will hit 62mph in 8.7 seconds. Thats quick enough acceleration to give a Renaultsport Twingo a fright, but its on twisty roads where the Swift really shines.
It darts from corner to corner with virtually no body lean, while the quick, well-weighted steering gives you the confidence to really push it to its limits.
The previous Swift Sport was great fun to drive, too, but it wasnt nearly as easy to live with as this new one. The extra gear has made the engine much more relaxed on the motorway, and has also helped cut fuel consumption to 44.1mpg and CO2 emissions to 147g/km a 10% improvement on the old car's figures.
Whats it like inside? The easy life continues inside, because Suzuki has loaded the new Swift Sport with enough goodies to keep BMW 3 Series drivers happy let alone junior hot hatch buyers. You get cruise and climate controls, keyless start, privacy glass, Bluetooth and a USB socket for your MP3 player.
Stability control is standard to help keep you pointing in the right direction, and seven airbags are there as back-up if you need them.
The cabin itself looks much like a regular Swifts, which means its solid but uninspiring. There are a few highlights, such as the red stitching on the steering wheel and the gearknob, and figure-hugging sports seats, but the hard grey plastics on the dashboard are a reminder that the Swift Sport is at the lower end of the hot-hatch hierarchy.
Should I buy one? Suzuki is on to a winner if the estimated price of 14,000 proves accurate. The new Swift Sport isnt ground-breaking in any respect, but it improves on the previous car in a number of key ways without losing the old-school magic that made it such a success in the first place.
The new Swift wont have things all its own way when it arrives in January, though. A revised Renaultsport Twingo is due to go on sale at around the same time, and while this is likely to be poorly equipped compared with the Suzuki, it will boast an even lower starting price of around 12,500.
Ford Fiesta 1.6 Ti-VCT Zetec S
Renault Twingo 1.6 Renaultsport 133
What Car? says

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Release: Feb 03, 2017 - Author: Muck47 - Translator: Tony Montana - external link: IMDB - more from this series
Compared are the TV Version and the DVD Version, the latter being available on the US DVD set "Season 14"
2 differences, including 1x censored audio track
Length difference: 2.8 sec
In December 2016, the latest DVD set was released in the US and it contains all episodes of "Season 14". As always, a few episodes were altered for their TV broadcast while the DVD Versions are completely uncut and uncensored. In addition to that, there are deleted scenes for every single episode as part of the bonus features.
Episode 14 ("Underage Peter") is only a few seconds longer which is a result from a missing comment at the beginning of the episode (apparently cut for time reasons). In addition to that, Brian's originally censored comment is uncensored now.
Cleveland makes a comment regarding Peter's suffering: "There it is. If you ain't sweatin', you ain't eatin'!"
2.8 sec
Censored Audio Track


text:
Content Count10
Last visited
Days Won1
Everything posted by Charmie
BUSTED: Forfeiture Laws Encourage Policing For Profit
Charmie posted a blog entry in Charmie SaysBUSTED: Forfeiture Laws Encourage Policing For Profit By Charmie Gholson Published Fall 2010 The Midwest Cultivator Ed Boyke, a former General Motors employee who served in the Navy, became disabled in 1996 after undergoing two brain surgeries due to a tumor and epilepsy. Boyke was approved for medical marijuana due to severe sciatica due to a pinched nerve. He was diagnosed by the Mayo clinic in Minnesota and is caregiver for himself and for one additional patient. On April 15, Boyke stepped outside of his Saginaw Township home and was surrounded by Saginaw County Sheriff's deputies and U.S. DEA Agents. With weapons drawn, they served Boyke with a federal warrant to search his residence, based on confidential information that he had violated marijuana laws. They handcuffed Boyke while they executed the warrant. The DEA agents surveyed his home, said they wouldn't pursue the case and left. The Saginaw County sheriffs department stayed to "see if he'd broken any state laws," and according to Boyke, "started tearing the place apart." They smashed his grow operation and a humidifier, dumped out dresser drawers and emptied closets in two rooms. They taunted him about who he voted for in the last presidential election. When the officers left, they took with them: two lawn mowers, a leaf blower, an air compressor and generator from his garage, his 2008 Chevy Impala, $62 from his wallet, his marijuana plants, hunting rifles and ammo, his harvested marijuana, Boyke's medical marijuana card and paperwork, a generator, a paint sprayer, a dehumidifier, growing apparatuses, scales and a 42-inch Panasonic TV. "They asked me for the key to my girlfriend's car too, but I didn't have it," he says. "They told me I was lucky 'cause they would have taken that too." The deputies returned the next day and asked Boyke how much money he had. "When they came back the next day threatening to take a lien on my house," Boyke recalls, "I called this one lawyer, Tom Frank in Saginaw and asked him about the $5,000 they wanted from me. He said, 'I'll run over and talk to them.'" Frank didn't call him Boyke back; instead the detectives called and asked if he had the money. "I was worried because they were threatening to take my house," he says. "That Sheriff said 'Make sure it's cash, then we'll bring your stuff back.'" Boyke gave them $5,000 in cash, and they returned his car, the lawn mowers, leaf blower and air compressor but they didn't return his TV or rifles. He says everything except the car was old junk from the garage. One of the rifles, however, was a present and heirloom. Boyke's wife passed away at the age of 36 and the rifle had been a gift from her father. He says he pleaded with the department to return, " just that rifle, but they told me, 'your guns are gone.'" "They didn't give me a receipt," he says. "I had to go down and get that myself." The receipt is for storage and impound charges. Michigan forfeiture laws require contesting property owners to file a claim with the county clerk within 20 days of a seizure, a copy of the claim with the prosecutor's office, and pay a bond, ranging between $250 and $5,000, which is reimbursed if they appear in court. When Boyke learned this, and after reading in the paper that he had received legal advice prior to paying his "impound and storage" charges, he was furious. He hadn't received legal advice. He drove to Franks' office. "Frank told me he didn't tell the sheriff he was my lawyer," Boyke says, "but Frank could have told me I had twenty days, the detectives could have told me, I would have disputed it, but they didn't tell me bunny muffin. I don't know those laws, I'm not a lawyer, and that lawyer never called me back." Saginaw County Sheriff's Detective Sgt. Randy F. Pfau told the Saginaw times that no one forced Boyke to pay for the return of the items. Property owners "have every right to take it to a formal hearing with a judge," Pfau said. "By coming in and paying that $5,000, he's waiving that right." Saginaw County Sheriff William L Federspiel says medical marijuana users are not his department's targets. "I wish we could just say, 'Hey, this guy's got a card, don't even bother with it,' but unfortunately we don't have that option," Federspiel told The Saginaw News. "So we follow through, because you know what, it's still against the law, unless you have the medical marijuana card." But Boyke did have a medical marijuana and caregiver card, until police confiscated it during the raid. Pfau also said it is department protocol for deputies to destroy or seize all marijuana-growing related items when they perform a search or seizure at a suspected grow operation. Federspiel maintains the department's investigation indicated Boyke was in violation of the law, illegally possessed marijuana and was thereby subject to forfeiture law. To date, however, Boyke has not been charged with any crime. According to Michigan state forfeiture laws, he may never be. GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT Michigan's civil asset forfeiture laws are some of the most egregious in the country. In March 2010, The Institute for Justice released Policing for Profit: The Abuse of Civil Asset Forfeiture, the most comprehensive national study to examine the use and abuse of civil asset forfeiture, and the first study to grade the civil forfeiture laws in all 50 states and the federal government. Only three states receive a B or better. Michigan received the lowest score possible: D-. Americans are supposed to be innocent until proven guilty, but civil forfeiture turns that principle on its head. With civil forfeiture, your property is guilty until you prove it innocent. The report chronicles how state and federal laws leave innocent property owners vulnerable to forfeiture abuse. These laws encourage law enforcement to take property to boost their budgets. The report finds that by giving law enforcement a direct financial stake in forfeiture efforts, most state and federal laws encourage policing for profit, not justice. In Michigan, law enforcement receives all proceeds of civil forfeiture to enhance law enforcement efforts, creating an incentive to pursue forfeiture more vigorously than combating other criminal activity. The report says Michigan multi-jurisdictional task forces work extensively with district attorneys and police departments to forfeit property, resulting in more than $149 million in total forfeiture revenue from 2001 to 2008. Americans accused of using drugs also have much to fear from informants, such as the "concerned citizen" that tipped police to Ed Boyke's "illegal activity." Asset forfeiture laws allow police to seize money and property from anyone merely accused of drug activity. In 2007, Saginaw Sheriffs and Prosecutors reported earning $53,797 net proceeds from their multijurisdictional drug task forces, like the ones who raided Boyke. 2008 proceeds totaled $75,598.
How Michigan Cops and Prosecutors Decrease Public Safety-Kent County
Charmie posted a blog entry in Charmie SaysHello and Welcome To Another Edition Of: How Police and Prosecutors Decrease Public Safety - Kent County Edition I'm your Host, Charmie Gholson. Let's get started. Attorney Michael Komorn is arguing a racketeering case in trial this week in Kent County. Here's an article about it. Never mind the obviously slated reporting, if you can, but go ahead and try to calculate the resources it took to investigate, raid and prosecute this 52-year-old woman. Remember, she did not commit any violent or non-consensual crime. Now I want you to take a good look at what was going on in Kent County during the time law enforcement was focusing on these consensual, nonviolent, so-called crimes. Here are the arrest rates for the past two years in Kent county, so you can see these numbers don't change. Where do you think police should be focusing their efforts? KEY First number = number of reported incidents for each crime Second number = number of arrests Confused? Don't' be. You see, Michigan is a great place to live if you're a rapist, but not so much if you're a legal medical marijuana patient or caregiver. Here's why: After the Michigan Medical Marihuana Act (The Act) was passed with overwhelming support in 2008, we saw one after another attacks on patients and caregivers in the forms of horribly violent raids and over the top prosecutions. We honestly thought with the passage of our Act, police and prosecutors would leave us alone. FUN FACT: Michigan has seen a 17% increase in marijuana possession arrests rates since 2008, the year we passed our medical law. It wasn't until Grand Rapids City Attorney Catherine Mish spelled out the strategy to remove protections provided in the Act at a Michigan Municipal League Seminar in September 2010 that we understood how brutally dedicated to maintaining the failed drug war our law enforcement is here in Michigan. They were not, under any circumstances, going to respect the will of the people. Here's that video of Mish's presentation. She comes in at the 37-minute mark. Mish repeatedly called for arrests and prosecution of medical marijuana patients and caregivers under both state and federal law and urged some 75 municipal leaders in that room to join in a lawsuit to challenge the Act base on Federal Supremacy (meaning that federal law supersedes our state laws). She instructed prosecutors to appeal medical marijuana cases when dismissed in order to work these cases to the highest courts, with the hopes that the courts would redefine the Act in accordance with their narrow interpretation. She also gave suggestions as to what types of offenses police can write in order to create tests cases; such as a when a caregiver's spouse lives in the house where medicine is grown and has access to the plants, even if they are in a closed, locked facility. It's been an effective campaign. Case after case has reached the higher courts, and law enforcement continues to arrest, raid, incarcerate and extract thousands of dollars from Michigan families who thought they were protected by the law. That's all for me today. Please contact your legislator and share these crime statistics. You can find statewide numbers in this blog right here. Love, Charmie
What is Policing For Profit? And How Does It Impact Public Safety?
Charmie posted a blog entry in Charmie SaysWHAT IS POLICING FOR PROFIT? HOW DOES IT IMPACT PUBLIC SAFETY? Michigan Moms United compiles crime arrest statistics to show, in no uncertain terms, how the practice of policing for profit decreases public safety. Rather than investigate and arrest suspects who commit violent crimes such as rape, murder, assault, and robbery, Michigan police and prosecutors focus efforts on consensual, victimless crimes. Why? Because doing so brings much-needed funding to cash-strapped law enforcement agencies. Maryland, Montana, New Mexico and Washington D.C. have enacted comprehensive forfeiture reforms, by Michigan law enforcement have prevented substantial reforms. More on this issue in a future blog. Here's how policing for-profit works. The federal government provides grants to drug task forces to "go get drugs," but does not give grants to detectives who work to find murderers or rapists. Civil asset forfeiture laws allow cops and prosecutors to forfeit cash, assets, and property of anyone accused of drug or prostitution crimes. They don't have to obtain a conviction or prove in any way the defendant was committing a crime. Local law enforcers also keep all proceeds, sharing with federal agencies. By now everyone knows about the over 11,000 long-forgotten rape kits found in an abandoned Detroit building. Police cannot forfeit anything from rapists. Considering the Michigan State Police Crime Lab admits marijuana testing accounts for 40% of its workload, we can safely assert it's much safer to live in Michigan if you're a rapist than a medical marijuana registry participant. The warrants executed in search of forfeiture often violate the civil rights of Michigan families who have no criminal intent and do so in the form of excessive force, sexual harassment and child endangerment. Here's just one example, the Shattuck family in St. Clair County, which is the subject of a civil rights violations lawsuit from the Law Office Of Michael Komorn. The numbers below are statewide arrest rates and as you can see, they do not change much from year to year. It's time we take public safety seriously, face the ugly truth about policing for profit and begin to heal relations between communities and police. Michigan Moms United calls on the Michigan Legislature to substantially reform our civil asset forfeiture laws, eliminate policing for profit and require law enforcers to increase arrest rates for violent crimes. Michigan Moms United has interviewed hundreds of Michigan families eviscerated by both these unjust laws and the SWAT raids used to ransack their homes and businesses in search of forfeiture. We work to educate the media and legislature about how the failed drug war decreases public safety and destroys families. ********************************************************************************* Arrests/Incidents = Arrest Rate 2008 Prostitution 955/1134 = 84% Drugs 34,250/43,999= 77% Murder 168/258 = 65% Assault 10,463/28,031 = 37% Robbery 2726/13177 = 20% Rape 1676/10,335 = 16% Arson 322/2754 = 11% 2009 Prostitution 735/803 = 91% Drugs 35,427/44,442 = 79% Murder 223/579/ = 38% Assault 10,076/27,079 = 37% Robbery 2645/12,396 = 21% Rape 1593/9886 = 16% Arson 301/2556 = 11% 2010 Prostitution 447/487 = 91% Drugs 35,317/44,144= 80% Assault 9912/26,303 = 37% Murder 188/528 = 35% Robbery 2600/11,358 = 22% Rape 1653/10,228 = 16% Arson 286/2830 = 10% 2011 Prostitution 335/409 = 81% Drugs 32,359/40,831 = 79% Assault 9458/24,060 = 39% Murder 170/580 = 29% Robbery 2261/10,354 = 21% Rape 1491/9688 = 15% Arson 277/2529 = 10% 2012 Prostitution 390/414 = 94% Drugs 32,744/43,062 = 76% Assault 9056/23,795 = 38% Murder 163/628 = 25% Robbery 2078/10340 = 20% Rape 1479/10,109 = 14% Arson 267/2256 = 11% 2013 Prostitution 307/373 = 82% Drugs 35664/45338 = 78% Murder 258/585 = 44% Assault 8954/22813 = 39% Robbery 2223/10201 = 21% Rape 1508/9780 = 15% Arson 255/1873 = 13% 2014 Prostitution 388/453 = 85% Drugs 35,762/44,224 = 80% MURDER 325/508 = 63% Assault 9303/22,862 = 27% Robbery 1867/8171 = 22% RAPE 1480/9319 = 15% Arson 238/1621 = 14% 2015 Prostitution 627/741 = 84% Drugs 36,686/45,645 = 80% Murder 253/539 = 46% Assault 9081/22665 = 40% Robbery 1619/7775 = 20% Rape 1472/9836 = 14% Arson 243/1912 = 12%
Community Fears Police, Not Marijuana
Charmie replied to jamieuke's topic in Cannabis and Medical Marijuana NewsHere's the original piece, unedited by anyone other than myself. Community fears police, not product In a September 27 Oakland Press opinion, Oakland County Sheriff Michael Bouchard asserts to clarify facts regarding the August 25 drug raids carried out by the Oakland County Narcotics Enforcement Team. "The pro-marijuana legalization faction seeking total legalization has gone into PR overdrive." Bouchard says, "SWAT was not used, patients were not thrown around." I have interviewed patients who were thrown around. One woman was handcuffed, hands behind her back, thrown to the floor by masked screaming officers carrying automatic weapons, who "placed," theirs boots on her back and neck. One family, including an eight-year-old child, was told by yelling officers "anyone move and we'll shoot the dog." The public outcry over those paramilitary raids is not a PR stunt, but an outpouring of fear and anger from the community Sheriff Bouchard calls "real patients that the voters intended to help that have no basic safeguards to protect them. " The folks protesting outside Oakland County Courthouse believe they're in danger, not from an unregulated product but from police who look and behave like soldiers. The violence and terror created by those raids generates danger where none previously existed. For chronically ill, state-sanctioned medical marijuana patients and their caregivers, collective fear is very high. I urge readers to consider why as a society we have come to accept these actions carried out on American citizens. Prior to Nixon declaring the drug war raids like this were unheard of. The original purpose of SWAT was to respond to domestic violence attacks, snipers, or hostage situations. As the drug war progressed under the Military Cooperation with Law Enforcement Officials Act, Congress directed the military to make equipment and facilities available to civilian police in the anti-drug effort and the Pentagon began equipping local police with M-16s and armored personnel carriers such as the "Colonel" tank owned by the Oakland County Sheriff's department. As the military was drawn further into those efforts, state and local police departments increasingly accepted the military as a model for their behavior and outlook. The problem is that the mindset of a soldier is simply not appropriate for a civilian police officer. Police officers confront not an "enemy" but individuals who are protected by the Bill of Rights. But in order to make war you must have an enemy. In January 2008, a Lima, Ohio SWAT team shot and killed 26-year-old Tarika Wilson. They were there to arrest her boyfriend, who was visiting but did not live there. When Tarika heard the SWAT team bust down her door, ignite a flash grenade and shoot her dog, she ran into her children's bedroom carrying her 13-month-old son. An officer fired three shots into the dark room where she gathered with her six children. The bullets that killed Tarika also blew off part of her baby's hand. Posters in the Lima and Toledo newspapers said Tarika "deserved it because she allowed drugs in her house." "She probably was hiding a gun behind her baby." "She was living in a drug den, knew it, and paid the price." This was when I understood the power the drug war holds over people's lives, beliefs and communities. Today there are more than 1700 SWAT teams across America. With little to do, they're unleashed on American citizens in situations foreign in years past, executing up to 40 raids across the country each day, primarily to serve drug warrants. Such a team executed the raids in Oakland County on August 25th. The issue is not what we call them, but if we are going to continue to sanctify these assaults on our neighbors. Charmie Gholson is a journalist, mother, and drug policy reform advocate. Resources http://www.cato.org/pub_display.php?pub_id=6476
Community Fears Police, Not Marijuana
Charmie replied to jamieuke's topic in Cannabis and Medical Marijuana NewsTHANK YOU FOR THIS-- as you can imagine, it's gotten me into my fair share of trouble through the years, thankfully I now prefer the peaceful and intelligent route, which allows for actual debate and to help change the minds of the people.And thanks for the blessings, right back atcha! Peace, Charmie Oh, and they misspelled my name, in addition to editing my piece. It was really good before they chopped it up.
Robert Mullen, J.d. On Straight Up, Monday At 5
Charmie commented on Roger's blog entry in Roger's BlogAsk him how he feels about civil asset forfeiture. That'll fill your two hours. Have fun!
Charmie replied to mrniceguy8252's topic in The Justice System- Share Your StoryIt's wonderful to see folks first encounter with LEAP! I work for these amazing guys and I call them recovering cops. They speak the truth, are dedicated warriors. If you know any law enforcement folks, retired or active duty, that would be interested in becoming a LEAP speaker, please send them to Shaleen Aghi Title, at LEAP. firstname.lastname@example.com because we could really put a local LEAP speaker to work in Michigan to help municipalities understand the urgency in NOT passing zoning ordinances and laws that prohibit MMJ.
The Ypsilanti Compassionate Care Club
Charmie replied to jamieuke's topic in Local Compassion ClubsHey, if Jamie gets up at 8:30 in the morning to tell me something, I'm going to listen. See ya there.
Call For Recipes For The Midwest Cultivator
Charmie posted a blog entry in Charmie SaysAnnouncing a new column in The Midwest Cultivator: Cultivator Cooks Do you have a favorite recipe you'd like to share in our trade journal? TMC will be profiling marijuana recipes in our new column, Cultivator Cooks. We'll profile the chef, the recipe and also discuss the medical issues that the medicine is treating. For example, "Every Saturday Bob Green picks up potatoes, onions and peppers at his local farmers market. He says he loves supporting local farmers to make his famous Happy Hippy Hash, including his caregiver, Dorothy, who cultivates and provides him with Burgundy Kush-a specialized strain that treats his Crohns disease." Ok, so ya'll clearly will have to educate me about strains, diseases, and cooking. But that's why I'm coming here, to you folks. Because you have the knowledge. I just write it down. This will be a loud and proud column, one that celebrates our new law, new rights as patients and brings cooking with marijuana to the larger population. Please email myself directly at email@example.com Just tell me a little about the recipe and yourself. Thanks much. I look forward to working with you. Charmie, Editor of The Midwest Cultivator
Greetings! My name is Charmie, I'm the Editor of The Midwest Cultivator. You may have seen the first in my series; Busted: Narrative From The Drug War, on our second issue. I'm working on building a database of patients and/of caregivers who have been raided or arrested. The critical part is that you must have applied for your State ID-even if it hasn't yet arrived. There are reports of arrests and raids all over the state, many here. Please contact me directly if you'd like to be interviewed. I am willing to do so anonymously, as "Search Warrant Steve," was in this last issue. Thanks much. In Solidarity, Charmie


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How much does an egg weigh? Not much, maybe a few ounces. So it wouldn't be too heavy to hold for a while, right?
If I asked you to hold your hand out and placed an egg in your palm, how long do you think you could hold it before you would start to feel pain in your hand and arm? A few seconds, a minute, an hour, all day?
You could probably hold it for a few minutes before your hand and arm started to hurt and feel numb, but you would not likely be able to hold it all day or even for an hour.
Now, an egg is certainly not heavy, so why would you feel more pain the longer you held it in your hand? It doesn't get any heavier just because you hold it longer.
How could you avoid having pain? The answer is easy. Just let the egg go back in the tray.
What is the life lesson that we can learn from the egg? The egg represents our problems. If we hold on to our problems for just a short period of time and then let them go, we don't feel much pain. However, the longer we hold on to our problems, the more pain we have. If we continue to hold on to our problems day after day, we can become paralyzed with pain and we will stay stuck in one place.
We have to learn to let go of our problems as quickly as possible so we can continue to move ahead in life. How can we do this? Here are some ideas:
- admit that you have a problem
- understand that this problem is causing you pain
- be willing to feel your pain
- take action to resolve the problem if this is possible
- work on overcoming your fears
- talk to someone you can trust
- believe in a higher power whom you can release your problem to
Try not to continue hanging on to your problems. They are hurting you and causing unnecessary pain and stress. Write down your problems and really look at them. Are they worth carrying with you throughout life?
More relationships are destroyed by holding onto problems that are not even worth the time and effort we spend on them. Every day has new situations that need to be faced and we should be ready to deal with these instead of dragging around old problems. At the end of each day, take action to resolve any problems that have come up and start each day fresh with no added stress from the past.
Don't hold on to that egg any longer that you have to! Let it go and release your burden. Enjoy your life, you deserve it!


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This week CVS has Lifesavers bag on sale 2/$3. There is also a 50¢/1 Lifesavers Printable Coupon available on the CVS website. If you watch a short video and share it with friends the value of this coupon goes up to $1.50/2. You could use that coupon to get this following deal:
LifeSavers 6.25-7 oz or sugar free 2.75 oz., 2/$3.00
Use 50/1 or $1.50/2 Lifesavers Printable Coupon
Pay as low as $0.75 each when you buy two and use the $1.50/s printable coupon.
Check out the rest of this week's CVS deals here.
Thanks Koupon Karen!


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Leading Conservatory and Orangery Roof Specialists
Specialised Conservatory Systems has been manufacturing conservatory and orangery roofs for over 17 years.
Based in Preston, we are one of the largest Ultraframe conservatory roof manufacturers in the North West, and one of the UK's leading suppliers of conservatory systems and orangery roofs with a nationwide network of customers.
With capacity to manufacture 100+ conservatory roofs per week, we have the capabilities and infrastructure to meet the needs of every double-glazing company or builder, whether you are looking for a standard design conservatory roof system or a bespoke glazed solution. We are, however, large enough to serve the requirements of national house builders that require roof systems in volume and in a short time frame.
The Directors at Specialised first gained their technical skills working at Ultraframe. Since then they have continuously furthered their knowledge in the specification and construction of glazed roofs and products for the benefit of all our trade installers. Our technical team is on-hand to advise you on the design, specification and installation of all roofs, both on and off-site.
Over the years our customer base has grown thanks to our reliable, affordable products that offer excellent value for money, and after sales service. We would be very pleased to provide you with a quote for your next conservatory roof.
Contact our sales team on 01772 822232 or email email@example.com
We would be very happy to provide you with a quote today for your next orangery or conservatory roof system


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Any one else have the headlights not come on in any mode? This is on my US 2016 Soul EV+. My wife called me and said the headlights wouldn't come on. She disconnected the 12V battery for a minute to see if forcing a computer reboot would fix the issue and it didn't change anything. Everything else works just fine. Looked and couldn't find any headlight fuse, either. Even our 2018 model doesn't list headlight in either fuse panel. She is driving home with the fog lights. Fortunately it is mostly freeway and it is a clear night.
Hopefully this is under warranty. I need to see if I can get the software upgraded to eliminate the CHAdeMO cutoff at 83%. Maybe other things are fixed too.


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Health Benefits Plans Under ERISA
Application of ERISA to Health Savings Accounts
The Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 ("ERISA") is a federal law passed to protect pension rights. The U.S. Congress, out of concern over corporate mismanagement of worker's retirement funds, passed this act in 1974. ERISA sets minimum standards for pension plans, guaranteeing that pension rights cannot be unfairly denied to or taken from a worker. ERISA provides some protection for workers in the event certain types of pension plans cannot pay the benefits to which workers are entitled, and ERISA requires that employers provide full and clear information about employees' pension rights.
ERISA also protects employees' "welfare" benefits, which include employer sponsored health insurance, as well as short- and long-term disability insurance. ERISA defines an "employee welfare benefit plan" as "any plan, fund, or program . . . established or maintained by an employer . . . to the extent that such plan, fund, or program was established or is maintained for the purpose of providing for its participants or their beneficiaries, through the purchase of insurance or otherwise, (A) medical, surgical, or hospital care or benefits, or benefits in the event of sickness . . . ." One can cull from ERISA's definition three basic components of an employee welfare benefit plan: (1) there must be a plan fund or program; (2) that is established or maintained by an employer; (3) for the purpose of providing medical, surgical, hospital care or sickness benefits.
Where a plan sponsored by an employer meets the definition of an employee welfare benefit plan, both the employer and the plan must comply with certain requirements set forth at Title I of ERISA. Title I of ERISA, which is administered by the U.S. Department of Labor ("DOL"), imposes upon entities sponsoring ERISA plans: (1) extensive reporting, recordkeeping and disclosure requirements (such as having a written plan document, providing a summary plan description to participants and beneficiaries of the plan, and filing a Form 5500); (2) minimum standards for participation, vesting and funding; (3) fiduciary responsibilities and prohibitions from engaging in certain transactions; (4) administration and enforcement requirements (such as having to follow adequate claims processing and appeals procedures); (6) group health care continuation coverage requirements; and (7) requirements relating to the portability, access and renewability of group health care.
The DOL has clarified ERISA's fairly vague definition of "employee welfare benefit plan" by providing "safe harbor regulations" that describe specific plans, funds and arrangements that do not constitute welfare plans. Because these arrangements also do not constitute "employee pension benefit plans," they are exempt from Title I's stringent directives. The safe harbor regulations exclude from ERISA coverage certain group or group-type insurance programs. In general, such insurance programs will be excluded from coverage if: (1) there are no employer contributions; (2) employee participation is voluntary; (3) the employer does not endorse the program; and (4) the employer receives no consideration in connection with the program, other than reasonable compensation for administrative services actually rendered in connection with payroll deductions.
HSAs were created by the Medicare Modernization Act ("MMA") signed by President Bush on December 8, 2003, and are designed to help individuals pay for current health expenses and save for future qualified health expenses on a tax free basis. In general, to be eligible for an HSA, an individual must be covered by a High Deductible Health Plan ("HDHP").1 In enacting the MMA, Congress recognized that HSAs would be established in conjunction with employment based health plans and specifically provided for employer contributions – but failed to specifically address the application of Title I of ERISA to HSAs – an omission that left many employers concerned and confused as to whether HSAs constitute employee welfare benefit plans covered by ERISA.
The DOL provided much needed guidance in April 2004, when its Employee Benefits Security Administration ("EBSA") issued a Field Assistance Bulletin ("FAB") discussing ERISA's application to HSAs.2 The guidance makes clear that while privatesector employer-sponsored HDHPs are group health plans subject to ERISA's reporting, disclosure, fiduciary responsibility and other requirements, HSAs generally will not constitute ERISA-covered employee welfare benefit plans. The guidance also clarifies that an employer can make contributions to the HSA of an eligible individual without being considered to have established or maintained the HSA as an ERISA-covered plan, provided that the employer's involvement with the HSA is limited.
According to FAB 2004-1, HSAs meeting the conditions of the safe harbor for
group or group-type insurance programs at 29 C.F.R. § 2510.3-1(j)(1)-(4), as summarized
above, are not employee welfare benefit plans within the meaning of ERISA. Thus, DOL
employer contributions to HSAs will not give rise to an ERISA-covered plan where the
establishment of the HSAs is completely voluntary on the part of the employees and
where the employer does not: (1) limit the ability of eligible individuals to move their
funds to another HSA beyond restrictions imposed by the Code; (2) impose conditions on
utilization of HSA funds beyond those permitted under the Code; (3) make or influence
the investment decisions with respect to funds contributed to an HSA; (4) represent that
1. An HDHP is an employer sponsored health plan that features higher annual
deductibles than traditional health plans.
2. An FAB publishes the technical guidance that EBSA issues to its enforcement
staff and is part of the DOL's ongoing effort to help employers, plan sponsors, plan
officials and service providers comply with ERISA. FABs are available on the Internet at


text: At Greater Cincinnati's Society of Marketing Professional Services Gala in December, D.A.G. Construction was awarded the Threshold Award. This award was created to honor such individuals, companies, or organizations which operate with a Marketing Driven Philosophy. D.A.G. is so proud to receive this honor. It is with a strong, loyal team that we can remain successful.


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New Zealand
We are based in NZ and promptly ship worldwide.
So that we can personally help you with best advice make Enquiries and place orders through Peter or David. If you need it, ASAP provides the fastest track to receiving products. David offers Paypal purchases and online pricing options at both NaturesDesign and UnityConscious.org
North of the South Island
Peter Ratcliffe
Nelson 7011 New Zealand
Phone 64 27 344 9727
Email firstname.lastname@example.com
Website VortexWater.co.nz
David Baillie
239 Waitati Valley Rd
RD 2 Waitati 9085
New Zealand
Phone 64 211 22 0910
Email email@example.com
Facebook: HarmonisingEnergies
Websites: NaturesDesign.nz (Australia, NZ and worldwide) and UnityConscious.org
Purchasing ASAP
Harmonising Energies lists prices and accepts e-transfers (NZ) and credit cards via Paypal.
Natures Design NZ also lists prices and accepts e-transfers (NZ) and credit cards via Paypal.
If you need any help with orders contact: David and his Team
New Distributors
If you would like to distribute our products within NZ or the world please contact us.
Overseas Links
Canada: World Living Water Systems Water Revitalizers


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Light Sport Pitot Plug KIT
The kit includes several vented plugs so it even works with double-tube systems and is guaranteed not to pressurise your pitot static system. The blazing yellow colour of the included foot-long, ANSI-compliant and weather-resistant reflective remove-before-flight streamer stands out equally well in daylight or darkness under all weather conditions, so it can't be missed. The kit comes complete with three different-sized pitot tube plugs, our unique streamer, and two rust-resistant coated triangle rings. The kit can also be used to prevent insects from plugging your fuel vent, which is known to cause loss of power with Cessna, light sport and home-built aircraft. WARNING: CHECK WITH YOUR AME AND CONSULT YOUR OWNER'S MANUAL BEFORE USING A FUEL VENT PLUG.
Kit includes: Three (3) Plugs: 0.305"ID x6.0"L (7.747mm ID x 152.4mm L), 0.240"IDx 1.5"L (6.096mm ID x 38.10mm L), & 0.302"ID x 2"L (7.671mm ID x 50.80mm L) Two (2) triangle, zinc coated rust resistant rings. One (1) very bright foot long remove-before-flight streamer.


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August 3, 2020 - Latest: What has happened to markets this year? by Darius McDermott
18th November 2011
Humans and technology are an interesting combination.
Humans are good at finding new ways to do things, inventing. That's one of the main reasons why we dominate the planet (and risk destroying it and ourselves), we're so good at thinking of new things.
So I like the quote from Brian Appleyard in Prospect "For Britain, as elsewhere, technology will be crucial. ……The next state will-or should be-not a machine dream augmented by humans but a human reality augmented by machines."
We tend to think of technology, be it 3D copying, computing or whatever as something way beyond what humans can do. But actually there are lots of things that people do far better than technology – the essential problems are getting each to do the right elements in the system and to handle the link between the two, the interface.
This is usually spoken of as "human-machine interaction" or HCI, human-computer interaction.
David Norman (who is one of my heroes) said that it shouldn't be human-machine interaction, but human-work interaction, with the machine as a possible means to do the work. That obviously fits in with Appleyard's comment, we want to focus not on the technology as technology, but in terms of what we want to achieve.
To give an example of "good" HMI, that is intended for a work purpose and uses the technology and the human elements well, think of an aircraft cockpit. It was (now it is more sophisticated, has more technology, and in some ways has a worse interface) designed so that when all the systems were operating normally, all the needles on dials pointed the same way.
Humans have the ability, called cognitive pop-out, to detect breaks in patterns. Go into a room with blue dots on the wallpaper and if there is a red dot somewhere, you'll see it.
Whether you can fly a plane or not, go into a cockpit with needles that generally point one way and one that points in a different direction and your eye will be drawn to it.
That system uses the technology and the human system well to achieve the objective, flying the plane safely. You can't turn off the human system and you don't need to pre-programme it. It isn't unknown for the technology to break down because something wasn't anticipated (the space shuttle, Apollo 13 etc.) or for the system to be turned off (for example, when an unusually tall crew member knocked off a system that was supposed to be impossible to turn off accidentally).
Take an example of the opposite, where the technology is very clever, but doesn't integrate with the human ability.
Accounting is difficult for most humans. You enter credits and debits in what seem the wrong places intuitively, and people aren't very good at entering and adding lots of figures without error. So we invented double entry bookkeeping. If your two columns don't add up, you've made a mistake and check it.
When we got computers, it seemed like a good idea to automate bookkeeping, because a computer doesn't make simple arithmetic errors.
So when these systems were automated, the first systems automated double entry.
But the whole point of double entry is to make up for the human failing of not being faultless with addition, while computers don't make those sort of mistakes. Meanwhile, the counter intuitive element of putting the credits and debits in the right places and categorising things correctly is still left to the human.
Systems have got much better, now you can simply tell the computer you've got a cheque to pay in or a bill to pay, and a good system will put the entries in the right place and add the figures up for you.
They can even give you graphical information. People are good at noticing patters and our vision is our dominant sense. If you have pictures, then instead of the Board meeting being three hours of the FD explaining to the non-accounting literate members what the numbers mean, they spend the time discussing the trends, margins etc. that they all understand because they can see them pictorially and have an intuitive grasp that they don't have with numbers. The people can see the patterns, trends and implications in the pictures in a way that computers can't.
So the challenge of future technology to make it a useful part of the economy isn't the technology, it is working out what we actually want to do, and then deciding when and how technology might improve on what humans can do themselves.
And part of the challenge, that Martin Sorrell, quoted in the Prospect article, identified, is education.
The issue is that the education, whether aimed at children or adults, always tends to be about the technology itself. That's important, obviously. It's fine saying that we can do just about anything technologically, but we do need people who can do it. But one trouble with the "teach technology" approach is that the speed of development means that your knowledge gets obsolete really quickly unless you are always updating it.
What we need is to educate everybody, children, scientists, politicians, everybody to think in terms of "what would it be really useful to do" – to start with the work, with what we want to achieve, not start with the technology and see if we can find a use for it, because the use we find for it might not be that useful and might actually be less useful than what we have already. That's not necessarily a solid base for an economic miracle.
More on Mindful Money
Vision for Britain: The future of the UK economy
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Some new features introduced in Jelly bean are listed below:
Offline voice typing: In contrast with the conventional SIRI assistant, voice dictations in Jelly bean can be done in flight mode or without an internet connection. All the phrasing and voice processing is performed locally, i.e. by the phone processor itself. No server interaction is required in Android 4.1 version. Since no internet connection is required, there are no server processing or server load lags and delays in dictation.
Triple buffering: Android used to lag in the race with iPhone and windows phone in terms of smooth visual display and notifications. Gone are those days with the introduction of V4.1; smooth visual and screen transitions can be experienced by the user even in load conditions. Triple buffer is that technique which provides the essence of smoothness in which three buffers of memory are deployed to process pixels even in load conditions. Two buffers are used as same i.e. front buffer and back buffer. Third tier of buffer activates when the back buffer fails to provide the output on the screen.
This maintains the user experience in load conditions and transitions are presented in a smooth manner.
NFC enabled: Expanded as Near field communication technology, it is the new buzzword for Android 4.1 OS. Along with the bluetooth capability, NFC is another example of machine to machine communication between two devices with a tap.
Google Now: Introduced for Jelly Bean, Google now is a search application which provides the search results automatically. It is like the evolution of the application. It learns about the search suited for a particular instant based on search history, location history and returns the best suited searches. This app is accessed via Google search app.
Automatic widget resizing: Unlike conventional widget structure, Android 4.1 has introduced the automatic resizing of widget according to the home screen. Icons size is also changed according to the space.
Advanced notification panel: A notification panel cannot be usual one if its about the new version of Android. This is the reason that Jelly bean is introduced with an advanced notification panel, instead of linking the notification with it's local app, the details of the notification are shown in the panel directly. For eg. If a person receives a new mail in his Email account, the notification panel itself can be used to read the mail instead of directing the user to his Email account.
Some other features like, predictive keywords in terms of advanced algorithm for predicting text has been introduced. Better search results with voice searching, increased frame rates, high synch between rendering and touch inputs are a few other add-ons provided in this new version. Touch prediction, according to Google, is something of interest which predicts the next touch on the screen.


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Secret Saturdays
Tropicana Pool at The Roosevelt Los Angeles
Saturday, November 9, 2019 12:00 PMOpen Format
Bottle Service
Table Reservations are closed for this event.Bottle Menu Unavailable Floor Plan Unavailable
Daybed4 GUESTS | $600.00 MIN
Daybed and table located near pool.
Daybed (Prime)8 GUESTS | $1,200.00 MIN
Daybed and table located near pool.
Cathouse Table10 GUESTS | $1,500.00 MIN
Table in Cathouse lounge area near dance floor.
Event DetailsPool Party
Tropicana Pool at The RooseveltHollywood Roosevelt Hotel
Los Angeles, CA 90028
United States (Directions)


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Ten points decided the outcome of the Boston Derby Dames home season opener, Wicked Pissahs vs. the Nutcrackers. Both teams smashed their way through this killer bout, but the Nutcrackers came out on top, with a final score of 227-217.
The first half was all about lengthy, high-scoring jams. The Nuts took a 10-1 lead right out of the gate with newcomer Womanimal lead jamming, with some exciting jammer-on-jammer action. Señora Slaughter, in the first of many power jams, extended the Nuts' lead. The Pissahs struck back with Rock power jamming her way through the Nuts pack despite awesome blocking by Mandoline Slicer and Captain Crunchher, tightening the Nuts' lead to 40-27. Womanimal once again (sensing a pattern?) took lead jammer, ducking and dodging as Pissah jammer Lisa Lionheart got stuck in a pack of Nuts largely due to fantastic blocking by Dottie Danger. 67-31, Nutcrackers.
The Pissahs tightened the race in Jam 5 with Stevie Nixher getting lead jammer and scoring a solid twenty points during a power jam, while Neurotic Tendency and Slapt did some incredible blocking. Big jam for the Pissahs!
Next up, Pissah jammer Rock came up against Nuts jammer Haddie Collider; it was a beautiful pairing as Haddie speds through to get lead jammer. Jam 7 brought more excitement as Slapt got out, Womanimal hot on her tail. 69-55, Nuts.
In Jam 9, Haddie Collider raced ahead as formidable Pissahs jammer Rock was caught in a defensive web spun by Nuts blockers Planitz Collide, Mystic R.I.P. Her, Wild Boardom, and Badonkey Kong. Nuts 84, Pissahs 55.
Pissah Evabyn Slapt got lead jammer skating backwards but immediately got knocked out as Nuts jammer Womanimal charged past her. Nutcracker Dottie Danger then cleared the way for Whammy by knocking out two Wicked Pissahs.
Nuts defense shined yet again as Planitz and Badonkey Kong held back the Pissahs jammer and Slaughter took lead jammer yet again. Geena received the star pass and slid in hot on Slaughter's heels, leaving the score Nuts 100, Pissahs 60.
Nuts blocker (and co-captain) Dingo showed her mettle holding back the Pissahs as the Nuts extended their lead to 112-64. Pissah jammers continued to be held back by the likes of Badonkey Kong and Hex O. Skeleton, and Nut Haddie Collider struck points on a power jam. Tonight was a night of power jams!
A chorus of "Whose nuts? These nuts!!" accompanied the start of the seventeenth jam, as Slaughter and Slapt lined up behind the blockers, while Nuts captains Dingo and Planitz waited within the penalty box. Slapt slammed through the Nuts blockers, getting lead jammer, while Slaughter received a nasty knockdown by Stevie Nixher. 137 to 78, Nuts.
The Nuts definitely had the fans' hearts, as "These nuts!" chants filled the arena, but Pissah fans, not to be outdone, retaliated with their own cheers. Slapt charged through Nuts defense RJ Cray and Reckless Rehab, but got knocked out by Planitz. Five points for the Pissahs.
It's jam nineteen, Rock vs. Whammy, both held back by stubborn blockers, but Whammy broke through as Rock is sent flying off the track at the apex. Whammy looked to be trapped on her second pass behind a tough wall formed by Nixher, Neurotic, and Bloodbath, but snuck by spectacularly, skating on one foot.
In the last jam of the first half, Planitz Collide donned the jammer star and quickly knocked the Pissahs jammer Lisa Lionheart off the track, even before they approached the blockers, and Dingo, with some impressive blocking, carved a path for Planitz to weave through.
At halftime, the score is 164-89, Nutcrackers. During the break we saw some heartwarming bipartisanship, however, as Nutcracker Dottie Danger comes to the rescue of a Pissah with a broken toe stop.
The second half of this game was all about the action: Seasoned Pissah Estrogeena Davis scored three points while new Nut Womanimal got stuck and run back. In the next jam, Stevie Nixher easily slid ahead as blockers Neurotic Tendency and Slim Hurt'n carved a space for her. The jams come short and quick, but the Nuts continued to lead, 164-98.
Whammy breaks through a cool two-arm hold by Pissahs Rough Ann Tumble and Maully O'ffender, and in the next jam gets sent to the penally box for a back block while Nixher skates around racking up points—the score is Nuts 172, Pissahs 107.
In Jam 27 we see Guns vs. Slaughter, a quick jam before Guns calls it off after one scoring pass. The Pissahs show off in Jam 28, with Geena powering through Nuts defensive powerhouses Planitz and Mandoline Slicer, while Pissah blocker Rock knocks the Nuts's jammer on her butt with a sweet hit.
The Pissahs are still fighting, eating away at the Nuts's lead. Pissahs Stevie Nixher and Gun Show both get lead jammer status one after another with Nuts hot on their tails. At the end of Jam 32, the score is 186-133, Nuts.
Jam 33 is quick, but one for the ages: Womanimal vs. Gun Show. Guns cuts in front once again, but not for lack of incredible athleticism by Womanimal. Watching these women skate will blow your mind.
Next we see some jammer-on-jammer action as Estrogeena Davis lands a hit on Haddie Collider, who slides gracefully into a mohawk to stay in bounds. An official review lands Haddie Collider in the box at the beginning of the next jam, with Stevie Nixher charging up against Planitz, Crunch, and Dottie Danger. Nixer hands a mean hit on Danger, charging through in a power jam, a jam full of big falls and nasty hits.
Haddie takes a shoulder to the head and passes the star from Haddie to Planitz, who gets sent to the box for a track cut immediately, leaving Nixher to have her second power jam in the last two minutes. The score is closed up to 191-173, what!?!
This game just got a lot closer. Guns goes hard up against the defensive trio of RJ Cray, Slicer, and Mystic R.I.P. Her, while Planitz charges out of the box and makes it through the Pissah defense, but not before the Pissahs get eight more points.
Once again we see Whammy come up against Geena and it's so close, but Geena comes out ahead by a hair–the two are neck and neck when Geena calls it off. Incredible blocking by Truant of the Wicked Pissahs.
Nuts jammer Slaughter breaks though a tough defensive Pissah knot, as Pissah jammer Stevie Nixher gets knocked out and into the center, almost colliding with officials. Neurotic Tendency and Planitz Collide, on opposing teams, are both showing that they're powerhouses of coordinated defensive blocking. The score is 197 to 181, Nuts.
This game has entered a lightning round of jams, barely too fast to type. It's Womanimal against Gun Show, who's stuck behind a seemingly endless mass of Nuts blockers, including the ferocious EmNasty. The Nuts score six points.
Jam 41 finds Geena up against Dottie Danger, both knocked out and forced into lengthy runbacks even before lead jammer is called – but it's Geena for the Pissahs, leaping forward into lead jammer status with Dottie hard on her heels. More second half jams fly by, the lead jammers are NOT letting the jams last, they're calling them strategically to prevent the opposing team from scoring.
In Jam 44, Dottie Danger beautifully sneaks down the inside line to get a scoring pass before calling it off, it's joyous to watch Dottie celebrate after a great jam. The score is 210-185, Nuts. But don't get too comfortable, Nutcrackers, next we see Gun Show get a power jam and rack up fourteen points before she's taken down by Mandoline Slicer. The Nutcrackers's lead is shortened to twelve points, with only minutes left!
Dottie Danger solidifies the Nuts' lead to 219-199 going into the last jam of the night. It's Nutcracker Slaughter vs. Wicked Pissah Stevie Nixher, both skating powerfully tonight. Slaughter gets trapped behind blockers Salty and Rough Ann Tumble as Nixher charges into lead jammer. Pissah defense is shining as Nixher races around with Slaughter stuck in place and forced into runbacks. Rock is knocking Nuts every which way and Nixher skates on, scoring eighteen points in one jam. The game is over. Nutcrackers 227, Pissahs 217. Wow. A ten point game! Bet you didn't see that one coming.
Womanimal and Badonkey Kong were crowned most valuable jammer and blocker for the Nutcrackers, respectively. The Wicked Pissahs named jammer Stevie Nixher and blocker Evabyn Slapt as their MVPs.


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CSNW helps pioneer restorative practices in schools
CSNW's Chemical Dependency Youth team continues to advocate for and provide services aimed at wholeness and restoration in our schools. It's exciting to watch these changes take effect in policy and larger systems of care!
Check out this great article detailing some of the ideas and events going on right now around this.
in News