This is fun. I heisted the following excerpt from WorldNetDaily.com.
|JERUSALEM – It is only a "question of time" before Palestinian terror groups and other Islamic organizations in the Middle East target the United States both abroad and on the home front, Abu Nasser, second-in-command of the Al Aqsa Martyrs Brigades, told WorldNetDaily in an exclusive interview.|
So…al Queda, Hamas, Hezbollah and now the Al Aqsa Martyrs Brigades have all openly threatened the United States. Other than being a loose coalition of known criminals and associated suchwhats, what do these organizations all have in common?
Anyone care to take a stab at that one?
Hillary in ‘08? Um, I wouldn’t count on it. You see, besides being a closet communist, sanctimonious and repugnant, she’s also quite demented. So demented, in fact, that the father of all politically correct but factually challenged Earth sciences, Al Gore, sounds almost rational when compared to her inane mumblings. Well, almost.
More fruitcake Democrats! Always pretending to be protecting the children. And against the dreaded Big Business no less.
Frank Zappa - Senate Judiciary Committee Hearings
“Rock music is the worst form of mass child abuse.”--Judith Toth (D)
No, forced underexposure to the realities of the world around them, at the hands of an increasingly intrusive central government, is the worst form of mass child abuse.
John Stossell Debates Global Warming
Wifey and I headed out on the bicycles a tad early this morning. The thing is, it was really cool outside this morning. It was freakin’ cool. I realize it’s, like, summer and all, but it was just too cool to pass up. We pedaled our way from this end of the city to the other and back again, but I did have an agenda going on when I left the adobe.
Let’s start by revisiting what I had to say last Sunday.
Get this. My son just called me. It seems he was visiting Musical Energi on North Main Street when some black guy jumped on his mountain bike and pedaled away. He gave chase, but fell just short of knocking the asshole off of the bike and giving him a quick send-off to wherever it is that total assholes go after being beaten to death.
Anyway, if you happen upon a red and yellow “Mega” mountain bike with a busted rear brake caliper, give me a shout and I’ll get the cops all over some black guy’s sorry ass.
Okay, let’s cover this real quick. I am not a cop and I do not play one on the internet. But, I do pay very, very close attention to all things policing and how they directly relate to what is, or isn’t happening in my city. Therefore, I know the cause-and-effect stuff, if not, who it is that makes such nifty phrases necessary in the first place.
With that having been said, let us examine what happened to my son this past Sunday. He rode his bike to Musical Energi, stupidly leaned it out front without securing it and then some black guy immediately decided to take possession of it. That constitutes an illegality, but in the grand scheme of things, a teeny tiny one. I guess.
Not wanting to further burden a police department already burdened with plenty of stuff to do, neither of us bothered to file a police report. But, thankfully, I did call an officer that was working in the southern end of the city and asked him to watch for the bike as the thieving asshole was headed due south. We figured we’d never see the bike again. And in all likelihood, that’s exactly what the thieving asshole figured we’d figure. He mistakenly thought he had himself a new, but illegally obtained bicycle and that was the end of that. The only thing he couldn’t have figured on was me. Unlike my son, I was pissed to the max and I’ve been scanning the city for that bike for a week now.
There’s no way we could know where the thieving asshole was headed to when he grabbed the bike, so I got to wondering where he was coming from in the Nord End section of the city just after noon on a Sunday. Kevin Lynn can call me a racist and a bigot all he likes, but my first choice was that fu>king soup kitchen on Jackson Street. If you will, this was my version of police work. Where was the idiot coming from? Ah, where most of the idiots come from: The soup kitchen. The lightning rod for idiots everywhere.
As social services outposts go, this one is the ultimate idiot magnet. It serves about as much food as it does generate police calls. If you think I’m going all ‘mean Republican’ on you, ask anyone being paid to carry a firearm in Wilkes-Barre what the soup kitchen is to attracting completely worthless idiots. If the soup kitchen were to suddenly pull up stakes and move to Kingston, the workload of the Wilkes-Barre Police Department would be instantly reduced. If it were to move to another community, it’s not like the “poor” would be forced to go hungry. They would simply be forced to ride their stolen bicycles a few miles further for their free grub. In effect, they’d almost have to earn their freebies. Uh, almost.
If it were completely up to me, it’d be permanently closed by tonight. Truth be told, I’d just assume burn it. But, the do-gooders that continually donate to it and live absolutely nowhere near it would be upset to learn of my crime against poor humanity. The do-gooders, comprised mostly of community leaders and politicos, like to be seen as being selfless philanthropists, so, the idiot magnet thrives while the neighborhood around it continues to decline.
So, as we made our way through the city today, the soup kitchen was at the very top of my list of places needing a visit. We rode by as the lunchtime crowd was gathering on the sidewalk, but the stolen bike in question was not among the collection of stolen bikes that are typically on display day-in and day-out.
But, with the second drive-by barely an hour later came a hit. There it was. There was my son’s bike leaning against the “No Parking” sign directly behind all of the illegally parked vehicles worth about as much money as this keyboard I’m tying away on. Gotcha, you fu>ker!!!
I called my son’s house and told his honey to tell him I had found the bike and that he needed to get on down there real quick. Next, I called a Wilkes-Barre police officer and asked for advice as how best to proceed. Then, I called him a second time. Lastly, I called 911 and told them what was going on at Wilkes-Barre’s foremost idiot magnet. A couple of minutes later, the call went out to officer #565: Idiot magnet again.
It didn’t take #565 very long to arrive on scene, but each passing nanosecond felt like an hour. If the thieving asshole were to finish his lunch and try to mount the bike before her arrival, I would be presented with two options. The first would be to follow him. And the second option would be to confront him right there on the sidewalk. There was no way I was going to follow this total asshole back to his lair, so I opened one of my bike bags and removed a baton from it.
Luckily, #565 arrived, I apprised her of what was what, and she immediately asked her fellow officer who took my unofficial police report the Sunday before to “25”--join her--at the scene. And before very long, a sergeant cruised on up and asked for an update on the goings-on. After he drove away, she looked the bike over, flipped it over and wrote down what I assumed to be the manufacturer’s serial numbers and whatnot. Not long after that, #559 pulled up in yet another police vehicle. The thing is, the bike had a couple of distinguishable peculiarities about it, which I had conveyed to her and they totally checked out. The long and short of it is, the stolen bike is now back with it’s rightful owner.
The amusing part of all of this was what happened just as soon as #565 parked her cruiser directly in front of the soup kitchen’s normally very busy entrance. Cops? Did someone say “Cops?“ The place came to a virtual standstill just like that. Only seconds before, people were piling onto their stolen bikes with doggy bags in hand, but now, people were exiting the kitchen and doing about-faces. Others kept opening the front door an inch or so and spying the cops movements. And still others were peeking out from the far side of the building. With the place in a sort of idiot-induced lock-down, the odds against the thieving asshole walking out and claiming “his” bike were now greater than the odds against myself becoming one of those folks who so often rail against partisan politics in one breath, but spew nothing but in the very next breath. You know, the spoiled commie youth. Er, sorry, socialists. Wait! I remember now. The oft-apoplectic and oft-clueless Democrats.
Call me heart-hearted and such, but normal people don’t act like that. Normal, law-abiding people, do not shy away from police officers while out and about. People who would rather not be in close proximity to police officers have something to hide. Or something to worry about. A guilty conscience, perhaps. Or, maybe, outstanding warrants and multiple unpaid fines. Failure to appear?
Anywho, I’m pleased. Not because we got back a bike we could have easily replaced. No, I’m pleased because some total asshole who had no right to the thing in the first place had it snatched from him just like he snatched it from it’s rightful owner. I will never, ever hide behind the drawn curtains and call 911 whereas my personal approach to maintaining law and order is concerned. My approach to doing what little I can to help maintain the peace and whatnot is more proactive and in-your-face. Much like that of the Wilkes-Barre Police Department‘s approach. While I can never repay those police officers for their round-the-clock efforts in these respects, I do appreciate their tirelessness, and their professionalism. I do.
With city living comes problems and such. But, in this city comes the best damned police department tax dollars can buy. I’m rock solid in that belief. Now, why don’t we do them, myself and my son a huge favor by forcing that idiot magnet of a soup kitchen to relocate to another community? How about Kingston? Why not Edwardsville? How about we put that thing right next to one of it’s biggest donor’s house and see what he thinks of what little has become of his charitable pursuits? Oh, um, right after we give him a heads up so he can chain the bikes to anything immovable.
The idiot magnet proved me right yet again.
Girl, you thought he was a man, but he was a muffin.