Next time you engage in a discussion with a "pro choice" advocate, ask them which they prefer. This...............
or this.....
Friday, February 27, 2009
Random 3am Fantasy
Wouldn't it be fun to sneak in to Ted Kennedy's room about now and wake him up while wearing a Mary Jo Kopechne mask?
Where Democrats come from
Parenting is never an easy job. About the time you get over the intoxication of that “new baby smell” and the astounding idea that you have actually procreated you come to the inescapable conclusion that someone by now should have had the courtesy to compile some sort of owners manual. Absent such an easy method you ply undaunted into uncharted waters and engage in the time honored method of flying by the seat of your pants. But even the most inexperienced sailor can manage some kind of rudimentary navigation with a basic compass. Unless you were raised by apes you possess this moral inertial guidance system courtesy of your parents.
Now I am sure that in the course of your upbringing there have been a host of things your parents did that you took issue with. But after careful adult consideration of their efforts you come to find that they did a fairly competent job. Dare I say that unless you were beaten with an extension cord or burned with cigarettes you have probably adopted most of if not all of the parenting skills they employed in your upbringing. Clearly, by the time the ripest fruit of your loins achieves young adulthood you can see your efforts paying dividends. Sometimes, this might be a bit much to assume. Case in point: Not long ago a group of students took over a building at NYU to protest the Israeli invasion of Gaza. Thankfully, after a brief and meaningless occupation the administration of the school had them removed and suspended them pending disciplinary action. Somewhere, several sets of parents have this to be proud of. (It’s a bit long but give it a look and note the witty repartee an incomplete undergraduate education and privileged upbringing provides)
Now I can’t speak for all of you but I can assure you that if after busting my ass for twenty years working two full time jobs and trying to be the best parent I could this was the result, there would be a toothless twenty year old residing in my shed missing several teeth circling the want adds with a borrowed crayon. I can also state with a large degree of certainty that I would consider defrosting my reproductive organs in the microwave to ensure that the same mistake would never be repeated.
It enrages me that imbeciles with no life experience can even think about disrupting the lawful comings and goings of others who have worked hard to enjoy the privilege of bettering themselves. A collection of doltish neo adolescents who would impose their uninformed and immature views on others while causing inconvenience and great expense while mindlessly compelling productive members of society to alter their lives and activities to accommodate their childish and reckless behavior. Future Democratic candidates one and all. Nothing a can of mace and an angry police dog couldn't’t have cured.
NB: Had the administration had some spine the NYPD could have ended this in about sixty seconds. My shift could have done it in ten.
Now I am sure that in the course of your upbringing there have been a host of things your parents did that you took issue with. But after careful adult consideration of their efforts you come to find that they did a fairly competent job. Dare I say that unless you were beaten with an extension cord or burned with cigarettes you have probably adopted most of if not all of the parenting skills they employed in your upbringing. Clearly, by the time the ripest fruit of your loins achieves young adulthood you can see your efforts paying dividends. Sometimes, this might be a bit much to assume. Case in point: Not long ago a group of students took over a building at NYU to protest the Israeli invasion of Gaza. Thankfully, after a brief and meaningless occupation the administration of the school had them removed and suspended them pending disciplinary action. Somewhere, several sets of parents have this to be proud of. (It’s a bit long but give it a look and note the witty repartee an incomplete undergraduate education and privileged upbringing provides)
Now I can’t speak for all of you but I can assure you that if after busting my ass for twenty years working two full time jobs and trying to be the best parent I could this was the result, there would be a toothless twenty year old residing in my shed missing several teeth circling the want adds with a borrowed crayon. I can also state with a large degree of certainty that I would consider defrosting my reproductive organs in the microwave to ensure that the same mistake would never be repeated.
It enrages me that imbeciles with no life experience can even think about disrupting the lawful comings and goings of others who have worked hard to enjoy the privilege of bettering themselves. A collection of doltish neo adolescents who would impose their uninformed and immature views on others while causing inconvenience and great expense while mindlessly compelling productive members of society to alter their lives and activities to accommodate their childish and reckless behavior. Future Democratic candidates one and all. Nothing a can of mace and an angry police dog couldn't’t have cured.
NB: Had the administration had some spine the NYPD could have ended this in about sixty seconds. My shift could have done it in ten.
Irony Defined
At the Paramedic project where I work we are required to meet yearly to renew our skills. In a very informal environment we review our competency in needle chest decompression and intra osseous infusion. You just have to love drilling into someone’s leg bone. But I digress.
In the past this gathering has been limited to Advanced Life Support providers (Paramedics). However, our department has grown a bit in the last few years and to make things a bit easier for our perennially overworked Clinical Coordinator we now include the Basic Life Support Providers (EMT’s) for their annual skill review.
A few weeks ago our hospital was being screened by a national organization in an effort to achieve a somewhat prestigious designation. In addition to a thorough inspection each area of clinical specialty was asked to prepare a display containing an overview of the department and its personnel. I routinely eschew participation in such displays. However several dozen of our staff members posted pictures of themselves with brief bios. Most were pretty standard but one in particular caught my eye. In it the author (a twenty something woman) listed among her activities her participation as a volunteer at Planned Parenthood “protecting the rights of women”. While this really irritated me I put on a shower cap (it was a busy day and I did not want housekeeping to have to clean up a mess should the top of my head explode) and continued on with my activities making a mental note to be confrontational with this imbecile should the opportunity present itself.
In the course of our recertification today each of us had to don an escape hood and conduct a “fit test” to determine what size we should don in case of an emergency. They are essentially a large plastic bag with a filtered valve and look like this.
Ironically, it occurred to me that with the judicious application of a small string and a bit of duct tape I potentially could have saved more lives in one afternoon than I have in almost twenty years as a Paramedic. Then again I have a soul and a conscience.
In the past this gathering has been limited to Advanced Life Support providers (Paramedics). However, our department has grown a bit in the last few years and to make things a bit easier for our perennially overworked Clinical Coordinator we now include the Basic Life Support Providers (EMT’s) for their annual skill review.
A few weeks ago our hospital was being screened by a national organization in an effort to achieve a somewhat prestigious designation. In addition to a thorough inspection each area of clinical specialty was asked to prepare a display containing an overview of the department and its personnel. I routinely eschew participation in such displays. However several dozen of our staff members posted pictures of themselves with brief bios. Most were pretty standard but one in particular caught my eye. In it the author (a twenty something woman) listed among her activities her participation as a volunteer at Planned Parenthood “protecting the rights of women”. While this really irritated me I put on a shower cap (it was a busy day and I did not want housekeeping to have to clean up a mess should the top of my head explode) and continued on with my activities making a mental note to be confrontational with this imbecile should the opportunity present itself.
In the course of our recertification today each of us had to don an escape hood and conduct a “fit test” to determine what size we should don in case of an emergency. They are essentially a large plastic bag with a filtered valve and look like this.
Ironically, it occurred to me that with the judicious application of a small string and a bit of duct tape I potentially could have saved more lives in one afternoon than I have in almost twenty years as a Paramedic. Then again I have a soul and a conscience.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Forty Days
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Fat Tuesday
Only 3 hours and 55 minutes left to gorge myself. If you hear a tearing sound followed by a loud boom its only my abdomen splitting open to let my entrails spew across the floor. I am actually looking forward to an austere Lent. But I think I should be able to find room to fill the remaining voids in my alimentary canal with a banana milkshake from Checkers. No sense rushing in to this.
Orthodoxy Defined
Sometimes a brave man can change the world. Following is a brief passage from a letter in a parish bulletin in Escondido, California authored by its pastor Fr. Richard Perozich.
The first 100 days of a new presidency is the time when legislation desired by the new leader is rammed through the congress without much discussion and over the objections of the minority party. It often is not good legislation, has been brewing in the hearts of special interest groups for years, who now have a vehicle to impose their will on the American people.
If the special interest groups have their way, it will spell the end of days for the American nation as we have known it since 1776. Abominations will be forced on us by the new government, such as which our founders never had intended, and certainly opposed to the Christian life: abortion on demand, homogenital sex, lust in all its forms, euthanasia, oppression of opportunity and entrepreneurs, silencing of faith and free speech among many.
The rest of his letter to his flock can be found here. I recommend that you read it in its entirety. It is thought provoking and TRUE.
The first 100 days of a new presidency is the time when legislation desired by the new leader is rammed through the congress without much discussion and over the objections of the minority party. It often is not good legislation, has been brewing in the hearts of special interest groups for years, who now have a vehicle to impose their will on the American people.
If the special interest groups have their way, it will spell the end of days for the American nation as we have known it since 1776. Abominations will be forced on us by the new government, such as which our founders never had intended, and certainly opposed to the Christian life: abortion on demand, homogenital sex, lust in all its forms, euthanasia, oppression of opportunity and entrepreneurs, silencing of faith and free speech among many.
The rest of his letter to his flock can be found here. I recommend that you read it in its entirety. It is thought provoking and TRUE.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Nursing Management, a true oxymoron
Moron is truly the operative part of the phrase. While the rest of the world functions on a monthly schedule that actually spans from the first to the last of the month the parallel universe of nursing schedules from the 15th to the 15th. Can anyone out in the real world explain why? Or is it just another way to make life all that much more inconvenient? Okay, I fell a little better now.
What happens when you take the time to raise your kids
While this video will speak for itself I would like to make one brief comment. How is it a 12 year old Canadian girl can grasp the complexities of this issue while the highly educated woman, who by the way is after the Vice President in the line of succession can't seem to wrap her brain around the issue? A truly sad statement about our leadership.
You can read some of the details about how this thoughtful young lady is taking her lumps from the Socialists in Canada over at Father Tim Finigan's blog.
You can read some of the details about how this thoughtful young lady is taking her lumps from the Socialists in Canada over at Father Tim Finigan's blog.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A Political Primer
Got this one by email. It has been around a while but is still a sound explanation of our political system.
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: Im the breadwinner of the family, so lets call me capitalism. Your Mom, she's the administrator of the money, so well call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the people. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, well call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the Nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: Im the breadwinner of the family, so lets call me capitalism. Your Mom, she's the administrator of the money, so well call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the people. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, well call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the Nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Kindred Spirits
For those of you kind enough to visit from time to time I want to draw your attention to my blog list. While meandering about today I discovered a link to a blog with the title The Digital Hairshirt. I could not resist and after taking a rather lengthy peek and enjoying a substantial period of laughter I wanted to pass along a strong endorsement. Please make sure to stop by and check it out.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Somewhere Gerald Ford is Smiling
Not a big deal but the President on his fifth flight on Marine One slammed his noggin in to the door frame. Two questions leap to mind. First, will Chevy Chase revive his career but lampooning our Chief Executive's clumsiness? Second, will this errant blow to the head knock some sense in to him and prevent the implementation of his "economic stimulus" program that is sure to bankrupt the real middle class? Middle class. It is clear that not one solitary soul (hey there's an oxymoron screaming for comment) in Washington has an idea of what that term means. The true middle class are those of us that went to college, have a working spouse and a part time job and are footing the bills for the political middle class. You know us, we're the folks putting off vacations and driving crappy cars to keep our kids in parochial schools and out of a failed and morally bankrupt public education system. You've probably seen us driving bleary eyed from side job to side job in an effort to sock away money in a retirement account while the gluttonous swine in DC (eg. Nancy Pelosi) conspire to find ways to "manage" it away for us.
So when next you see or hear a politician state that they are going to "save" the middle class don't be deluded into thinking next years tax bite will be any less for you. It will be designed to "stimulate" those folks who are content to work their forty hour week, lay on the couch and make not one effort to improve the futures of their children or themselves. Your best intentions aside, that's who you are working for.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Kevlar Crozier
The Bishop of Scranton Pennsylvania H. E. the Most Reverend Joseph Martino does not beat around the bush when it comes to calling out alleged Catholics who support abortion. Bishop Martino recently published a letter he sent to Senator Robert Casey D-PA regarding his recent vote to rescind the Mexico City policy which prohibited federal dollars from being used to fund abortions over seas. While a good number of the Episcopacy wring their hands and fret this good man has taken the bull by the horns.
He said in part "Your vote against the Mexico City Policy will mean the deaths of thousands of unborn children. This is an offense against life and a denial of our Catholic teaching on the dignity of every human being. This action is worthy of condemnation by all moral men and women."
Thats just the warm up. You can read more on this over at
Father Z's WDTPRS or go right to the Diocesan Website.
He said in part "Your vote against the Mexico City Policy will mean the deaths of thousands of unborn children. This is an offense against life and a denial of our Catholic teaching on the dignity of every human being. This action is worthy of condemnation by all moral men and women."
Thats just the warm up. You can read more on this over at
Father Z's WDTPRS or go right to the Diocesan Website.
When is the book burning?
Well they said the first one hundred days of the Obama administration would be eventful. For those of you who have been carefully burying your guns in places unnamed this is a post in which you will be very interested. It seems that a Democratic Senator from Michigan feels that constitutionally protected free speech needs the oversight of the Federal Government. Apparently the esteemed SENATOR DEBBIE STABENOW D-MI has a bit of a problem with people freely criticizing the government. It would appear that they aren't about to let a petty obstacle like the US Constitution get in the way either. Check out the link here. Pretty scary stuff.
The Eagle has landed and is being pelted with rocks
Sometimes anger gets the better of me. Such was the case today when I was reading the local rag online. Not the best newspaper on the planet but if you want to keep up on local news and the obligatory daily check of the obituary page your kind of stuck.
While I am a firm believer in the freedom of the press, like any other right we enjoy here in the greatest country on the planet that freedom comes with responsibility. And I feel comfortable in stating categorically that most papers and in particular the Home News and Tribune fall woefully short in the responsibility category.
As a cop I get really angry when I see a headline like Police Chief's Son Indicted or Paramedic accused of. I can understand that public officials are held to a higher standard. With the added responsibilities we enjoy we candidly enjoy privileges not afforded to the public at large. But when a public official, especially one of us in the uniformed services, gets lumped in to a headline because of something a spouse or errant offspring might have done I get really angry. To be fair, if I or any public servant is directly involved in something that might color my service in a negative light we should be fair game. But the free handed way in which marginal print outlets try to boost readership by creating a story that isn't there is galling. But like I said, it comes with the territory.
Today when reading the rag I saw a headline that blared "Former Eagle Scout pleads guilty in Sex Assault". Catchy isn't it. But when you read the article you find that his status as an Eagle Scout had nothing to do with the crime. Yet the irresponsible media takes the liberty of whipping out their paint brush and in the process of trying to generate interest in an otherwise marginal story smears an entire group of people.
I became an Eagle Scout in 1978. It was a great accomplishment then and for the kids attaining that rank now its an even bigger deal in a society that eschews the very things that Scouting stands for. It is something that some thirty years later I am still very proud of. For these hacks to obliquely besmirch an entire group of people is a great injustice.
Not all Eagle Scouts commit sexual assaults, not all Cops are mindless brutes with a penchant for violence and not every member of the clergy is a closet predator waiting to jump out of a tree on to an unsuspecting kid. To be fair, not all journalists are bottom dwelling creeps that profit from the misfortune of others. But this kind of irresponsibility carries with it the risk that the editors and staff of the Home News Tribune could be perceived as such.
Following is the letter I sent to their paper tonight. I am realistic to know that its impact on there practices will be nil but at least I was able to defend an institution I hold dear.
To the Editor:
While reading the online version of The Home News Tribune today I was alarmed to see the Headline “Former Eagle Scout pleads guilty in Morris Twp. Sex Assault case”. Curious as to how being an Eagle Scout had even the most remote relation to the facts at hand I read the piece thoroughly. As I suspected, there was no relevance to the inclusion of this fact. I would like to say I was surprised, sadly I was not. It is scandalous that a newspaper of supposed good repute would engage in an editorial practice that features salacious but irrelevant tidbits in an attempt to boost readership.
Clearly the man cited in the article committed a crime. He admitted his role and will face the consequences. Not one element of the story indicates that his attainment of the rank of Eagle Scout had anything to do with the incident. Yet his past accomplishment is displayed as a banner over his misdeeds as if to paint every Eagle Scout with the same broad brush.
The Home News Tribune has had a generous history of articles detailing the accomplishments of the Boy Scouts of America in general and Eagle Scouts in particular. It is sad that in this case of exceptionally poor editorial judgment those generous works have been erased. That’s the problem when you paint with a broad brush. Sometimes you get dirty yourself.
While I am a firm believer in the freedom of the press, like any other right we enjoy here in the greatest country on the planet that freedom comes with responsibility. And I feel comfortable in stating categorically that most papers and in particular the Home News and Tribune fall woefully short in the responsibility category.
As a cop I get really angry when I see a headline like Police Chief's Son Indicted or Paramedic accused of. I can understand that public officials are held to a higher standard. With the added responsibilities we enjoy we candidly enjoy privileges not afforded to the public at large. But when a public official, especially one of us in the uniformed services, gets lumped in to a headline because of something a spouse or errant offspring might have done I get really angry. To be fair, if I or any public servant is directly involved in something that might color my service in a negative light we should be fair game. But the free handed way in which marginal print outlets try to boost readership by creating a story that isn't there is galling. But like I said, it comes with the territory.
Today when reading the rag I saw a headline that blared "Former Eagle Scout pleads guilty in Sex Assault". Catchy isn't it. But when you read the article you find that his status as an Eagle Scout had nothing to do with the crime. Yet the irresponsible media takes the liberty of whipping out their paint brush and in the process of trying to generate interest in an otherwise marginal story smears an entire group of people.
I became an Eagle Scout in 1978. It was a great accomplishment then and for the kids attaining that rank now its an even bigger deal in a society that eschews the very things that Scouting stands for. It is something that some thirty years later I am still very proud of. For these hacks to obliquely besmirch an entire group of people is a great injustice.
Not all Eagle Scouts commit sexual assaults, not all Cops are mindless brutes with a penchant for violence and not every member of the clergy is a closet predator waiting to jump out of a tree on to an unsuspecting kid. To be fair, not all journalists are bottom dwelling creeps that profit from the misfortune of others. But this kind of irresponsibility carries with it the risk that the editors and staff of the Home News Tribune could be perceived as such.
Following is the letter I sent to their paper tonight. I am realistic to know that its impact on there practices will be nil but at least I was able to defend an institution I hold dear.
To the Editor:
While reading the online version of The Home News Tribune today I was alarmed to see the Headline “Former Eagle Scout pleads guilty in Morris Twp. Sex Assault case”. Curious as to how being an Eagle Scout had even the most remote relation to the facts at hand I read the piece thoroughly. As I suspected, there was no relevance to the inclusion of this fact. I would like to say I was surprised, sadly I was not. It is scandalous that a newspaper of supposed good repute would engage in an editorial practice that features salacious but irrelevant tidbits in an attempt to boost readership.
Clearly the man cited in the article committed a crime. He admitted his role and will face the consequences. Not one element of the story indicates that his attainment of the rank of Eagle Scout had anything to do with the incident. Yet his past accomplishment is displayed as a banner over his misdeeds as if to paint every Eagle Scout with the same broad brush.
The Home News Tribune has had a generous history of articles detailing the accomplishments of the Boy Scouts of America in general and Eagle Scouts in particular. It is sad that in this case of exceptionally poor editorial judgment those generous works have been erased. That’s the problem when you paint with a broad brush. Sometimes you get dirty yourself.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Most dangerous job in America
Sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for the next season of the Deadliest Catch? Living vicariously while flipping back and forth between COPS and Ice Road Truckers? A recent USA Today article shows that the most dangerous job in America is as a crew member on a Medical Helicopter. Per capita the death rate among air crew members on medevac crews is higher than deep sea fishermen and loggers. Maybe there is something to this whole gravity thing.
All those years of calorie counting for naught!
Hope there aren't any lard cannibals out there or I am in deep trouble.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
How about them apples
On a rare evening off with the children out of the house my wife and I ventured forth to spend a bit of quality time alone. As she had an upcoming social engagement and needed to grab a small gift we went to a local store that specializes in home décor ranging from large furniture to the more common knick knack. To say my wife and I don’t get an opportunity like this too often is an understatement. As a matter of fact my son pointed out that the last time he remembered the two of us being able to go to a movie was when he was a sophomore in high school. He’s now in his second year of college.
As we leisurely walked about the store I was fascinated by a good many things, some tangible, others less so. First there were the requisite husbands dutifully following their wives around while quietly praying for death after being asked their opinion of one china pattern or another. Then there was the twenty something well dressed professional man browsing the wine glasses most probably for a dalliance with a young lady he had planned for later in the evening. Poor bastard. Little does he realize that it’s such a dalliance that will land him in circumstances identical to the aforementioned muttering husbands in no time at all.
The most fascinating observation I made however is the time and care women will put in to looking for just that right accent for their home décor. Now it’s not that I don’t appreciate the care and pride my wife takes in decorating our house. But it occurs to me that if women spent just a fraction of the time and intense attention to detail that goes in to picking just the right tin lamp or country styled plaque with a clever saying perhaps the world might be an even better place.
On the other hand, maybe the world would be even better if Nancy Pelosi went out shopping for some knick knacks of her own. Maybe she’d like some nice large wooden apples.
Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA)
President Obama has stated that he will sign this legislation if passed by the Congress. In a nutshell its passage would remove almost every possible restriction on abortion. Click on the link to see a short and thought provoking video. The Deacon's Bench: Someone needs to show this to Obama. Now.
FLETC update
Last weekend I was able to speak with both H. Carl Farvman and Spike to get an update on their progress at the academy. I am happy to report that both are doing well. Farvman, having already graduated from the same curriculum just two years ago is easily navigating the academics and has come to the conclusion this is a 14 week program with a personal trainer courtesy of Uncle Sam. He recently made a weekend trip to the famous Miami Ink and will perhaps be returning to NJ with a new tat.
Spike's knees are holding up well but he has a heinous case of shin splints. Undeterred he marches on albeit like a fat elderly man with a full adult diaper. I don't have an address for them but they are both Internet equipped and I am sure for those of you that have their address they would love to hear from you.
Spike's knees are holding up well but he has a heinous case of shin splints. Undeterred he marches on albeit like a fat elderly man with a full adult diaper. I don't have an address for them but they are both Internet equipped and I am sure for those of you that have their address they would love to hear from you.
If cleanliness is next to Godliness.....
I visited hell last night. While unusual we occasionally have to travel some distance from our primary response area to back up other medic units when they are tied up on other assignments. Last night when we were in the furthest southern reaches of our area we were sent to a city one entire county away for a diabetic. Under the best of circumstances it would take us twenty minutes to reach the address where the BLS unit was awaiting our arrival.
We arrived at a nice little ranch home on a side street that was still sporting an Obama 08 sign on the lawn. Should have been my first clue I suppose as even after Bush won in 04 I removed his sign from my lawn the next day.
As we entered this palace I was alarmed at a crunching noise as I walked across the living room rug. I was concerned as I may have picked up some left over rock salt on my walk across the driveway and I did not want to be tracking anything in with me. As it turns out I would have been better off. At least a heavy coating of salt would have protected me from the vile collection of crumbs impregnating this carpet. I am not talking about the odd cracker crumb mind you but more pulverized carbohydrates than Aunt Jenny's meatloaf. Ordinarily I would have insisted that they secure the family dog in another room for our safety but the fat pug just lay in the corner stupefied from his failed efforts to cleanse the house of every errant morsel. Likely he was the one we should have done a dex stick on. He was probably in DKA.
I had planned to clean my garage when I went home in the morning. I went to bed instead knowing I could have moved these folks in and it would have been an improvement.
We arrived at a nice little ranch home on a side street that was still sporting an Obama 08 sign on the lawn. Should have been my first clue I suppose as even after Bush won in 04 I removed his sign from my lawn the next day.
As we entered this palace I was alarmed at a crunching noise as I walked across the living room rug. I was concerned as I may have picked up some left over rock salt on my walk across the driveway and I did not want to be tracking anything in with me. As it turns out I would have been better off. At least a heavy coating of salt would have protected me from the vile collection of crumbs impregnating this carpet. I am not talking about the odd cracker crumb mind you but more pulverized carbohydrates than Aunt Jenny's meatloaf. Ordinarily I would have insisted that they secure the family dog in another room for our safety but the fat pug just lay in the corner stupefied from his failed efforts to cleanse the house of every errant morsel. Likely he was the one we should have done a dex stick on. He was probably in DKA.
I had planned to clean my garage when I went home in the morning. I went to bed instead knowing I could have moved these folks in and it would have been an improvement.
Liturgical Counteroffensive
Just when things are rolling along nicely someone has to chuck an obstacle in your path.
When last I updated you about our Guerrilla Schola we were well into the Advent season and our efforts were met with appreciation at the Parish where we sang for Mass. We have since begun to gear up for Lent and look forward to adding to an already thriving and talented pastoral music program. In addition we are looking forward to making a regular appearance at a nearby Parish where the Pastor offers Mass in the Extraordinary Form on Saturdays. That is of course once we manage to learn the propers. Our long suffering Maestro is learning the difficulties of imparting new knowledge on less than fertile middle aged minds. Undeterred he marches joyfully on.
That is of course until last week. I will be vague on details in order to protect his identity. Gently and over the course of a year or so The Maestro has been incrementally adding more traditional elements to the music at Mass. Not all in Latin but certainly the musical selections introduced have been in lock step with the Magesterium and without a doubt appropriate for season and feast. While there has been a great deal of encouragement from the folks in the pews Father has seen fit to, shall we say, put a screeching halt to any further forward movement in this regard. To add insult to injury he has indicated his preference to musical selections more akin to the St. Louis Jesuits. For those of you unfamiliar with liturgical music this is the equivalent of hosting Barney the Dinosaur at Avery Fischer Hall or holding the Super Bowl in Mozambique.
Chafing under the unforgiving bridle of obedience what choice does he have. However, the building will continue brick by brick. But it is apparent at least in the short term that we will be operating the kiln in a more clandestine fashion.
In the meantime we will continue to work on the propers in the hope that things will really catch on at our alternative location. More to follow as things develop.
When last I updated you about our Guerrilla Schola we were well into the Advent season and our efforts were met with appreciation at the Parish where we sang for Mass. We have since begun to gear up for Lent and look forward to adding to an already thriving and talented pastoral music program. In addition we are looking forward to making a regular appearance at a nearby Parish where the Pastor offers Mass in the Extraordinary Form on Saturdays. That is of course once we manage to learn the propers. Our long suffering Maestro is learning the difficulties of imparting new knowledge on less than fertile middle aged minds. Undeterred he marches joyfully on.
That is of course until last week. I will be vague on details in order to protect his identity. Gently and over the course of a year or so The Maestro has been incrementally adding more traditional elements to the music at Mass. Not all in Latin but certainly the musical selections introduced have been in lock step with the Magesterium and without a doubt appropriate for season and feast. While there has been a great deal of encouragement from the folks in the pews Father has seen fit to, shall we say, put a screeching halt to any further forward movement in this regard. To add insult to injury he has indicated his preference to musical selections more akin to the St. Louis Jesuits. For those of you unfamiliar with liturgical music this is the equivalent of hosting Barney the Dinosaur at Avery Fischer Hall or holding the Super Bowl in Mozambique.
Chafing under the unforgiving bridle of obedience what choice does he have. However, the building will continue brick by brick. But it is apparent at least in the short term that we will be operating the kiln in a more clandestine fashion.
In the meantime we will continue to work on the propers in the hope that things will really catch on at our alternative location. More to follow as things develop.
Misspent Youth Part II
One thoughtful and thought provoking gift I received this Christmas was a DVD containing every issue from the long history of National Lampoon Magazine. Founded in 1971 Lampoon was a mainstay of my teen years. I can't begin to tell how exciting it was to rediscover this rich treasure of satire that I enjoyed for so many years.
Admittedly a good amount of the material is dated particularly when it comes to the political aspects of the magazine. But that aside this is a tremendous collection of social satire that has withstood the test of time. From the silly yet hilarious Letters from the Editor to the randomly placed topless photo funnies it is still funny and relevant thirty years later. Former readers of the magazine will appreciate the return of such comic classics as Dirty Duck, Timberland Tales (featuring Constable Tom rumoured to have a small amount of brain damage) and Zippy the Pinhead.
As I loaded the DVD on to my trusty laptop I found myself wondering if humor written in the days before random urine testing in the workplace would withstand the test of time. I wasn't disappointed. You can find the set over at www.nationallampoon.com..
Circle the wagons
In the last two weeks there have been a great many important events in the world of religion. Some of them have the potential to dramatically alter the shape of Christianity in a way not contemplated since the Protestant Reformation.
On top of the list is the lifting by Pope Benedict XVI of the excommunication of the Bishops of the Society of Saint Pius X (SSPX). For those of you not familiar with the history involved here is a bit of background.
During the Pontificate of Blessed Pope John XXIII an ecumenical council later to be commonly referred to as Vatican II changed the manner in which Roman Catholics worship. The prevalence of Latin in the liturgy and many other traditions fell by the wayside as the Church attempted to become more relevant in the changing climate of the sixties. Traditionalists, like those of the SSPX held on to the traditions of the "old church" and after a series of events culminating in the unapproved ordination of four bishops were separated from communion with the Church.
This week the Pope lifted those excommunications. While there are still many issues to be ironed out with respect to full return of SSPX to the Roman Catholic fold it appears that this issue is on the fast track and will result in to the joyous return of this prodigal traditional element of the Faith.
Another big event being bandied about the blog sphere is what appears to be the imminent inclusion of the Traditional Anglican Church (TAC) in to the Roman Catholic Church as a personal prelature. The ramifications of a half million conservative Anglicans "swimming the Tiber" has huge implications particularly with the talks of schism in the Anglican Church between more traditional minded adherents and those that support the ordination of women and homosexuals.
As the political world has taken a sharp left turn both here and abroad it is interesting to note that conservative religious seem to be banding together. And while these developments have been decades in the making it is interesting to consider that stimulus to bring these events to fruition is the leftward shift in our politics.
As a nation we are morally tetering on the brink. Our new President has indicated his complete support for the Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA). This legislation will allow abortion on demand. Additionally it will remove mandates for parental notification and allow for greater Federal funding of abotions and related procedures. At the bottom of this slippery slope is something that should concern all health care providers. The absoulte removal of protections allowing persons personally opposed to these "freedoms" from participating in infantcide. Simply put, a nurse who can now refuse to participate in aborting a fetus will lose the ability to do so.
It is easy I suppose in the abstract to say you are not morally opposed to abortion. When you are the one that will have to pass the forceps to the doctor to crush a baby's skull will you have the same resolve? Will you be able to stand idly by in the procedure room and watch these events unfold?
If not, there will be plenty of room in the circle.
On top of the list is the lifting by Pope Benedict XVI of the excommunication of the Bishops of the Society of Saint Pius X (SSPX). For those of you not familiar with the history involved here is a bit of background.
During the Pontificate of Blessed Pope John XXIII an ecumenical council later to be commonly referred to as Vatican II changed the manner in which Roman Catholics worship. The prevalence of Latin in the liturgy and many other traditions fell by the wayside as the Church attempted to become more relevant in the changing climate of the sixties. Traditionalists, like those of the SSPX held on to the traditions of the "old church" and after a series of events culminating in the unapproved ordination of four bishops were separated from communion with the Church.
This week the Pope lifted those excommunications. While there are still many issues to be ironed out with respect to full return of SSPX to the Roman Catholic fold it appears that this issue is on the fast track and will result in to the joyous return of this prodigal traditional element of the Faith.
Another big event being bandied about the blog sphere is what appears to be the imminent inclusion of the Traditional Anglican Church (TAC) in to the Roman Catholic Church as a personal prelature. The ramifications of a half million conservative Anglicans "swimming the Tiber" has huge implications particularly with the talks of schism in the Anglican Church between more traditional minded adherents and those that support the ordination of women and homosexuals.
As the political world has taken a sharp left turn both here and abroad it is interesting to note that conservative religious seem to be banding together. And while these developments have been decades in the making it is interesting to consider that stimulus to bring these events to fruition is the leftward shift in our politics.
As a nation we are morally tetering on the brink. Our new President has indicated his complete support for the Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA). This legislation will allow abortion on demand. Additionally it will remove mandates for parental notification and allow for greater Federal funding of abotions and related procedures. At the bottom of this slippery slope is something that should concern all health care providers. The absoulte removal of protections allowing persons personally opposed to these "freedoms" from participating in infantcide. Simply put, a nurse who can now refuse to participate in aborting a fetus will lose the ability to do so.
It is easy I suppose in the abstract to say you are not morally opposed to abortion. When you are the one that will have to pass the forceps to the doctor to crush a baby's skull will you have the same resolve? Will you be able to stand idly by in the procedure room and watch these events unfold?
If not, there will be plenty of room in the circle.
Half a sandwich?
Perhaps I am too judgemental. However, a certain event that will trigger my ire is the job half done. For those of you with children this is an easy rant to understand. Did you clean your room junior? And despite their protests that their job was good enough you find that their performance is sub standard. Its a grinding war of attrition and like many frustrated parents before me I have been tempted to give up. After all, its not me that has to live in the swill. But then my better senses take hold and the fight continues and the job finally is done satisfactorily.
You can't help but wonder then how many parents that have gone before us have surrendered to the temptation of allowing junior to go through life at half measure. What would the implications be? I think I have the answer.
As a semi reformed fat guy who has to eat on the road alot I am compelled to dine often on sandwiches and similar delicacies. Worse yet, circumstances dictate that many times this cuisine must be eaten on the fly, often in a moving vehicle. So you can understand the importance of having an entree of this variety prepared in two clear and identifiable segments. In common parlance, cut in half. Now to the uninitiated you might think that this is a simple request. Take whatever cutting implement is readily at hand and divide the object of my culinary desire in to two more or less equal parts. And to show I am a reasonable person, anything up to the 70-30 split would be acceptable. Despite the simplicity of this concept I am confronted more and more by a phenomenon that complicates what should be a simple part of the day. On the go dining.
More often than not when I reach my mobile dining destination I will greedily unwrap the meal and hope to scarf it down before the radio chirps to life and summons me to the next assignment necessitating the temporary abandonment of the meal. As I go to separate the two halves there it is, a doughy umbilical binding what should be two specific hemispheres of delicatessen delight. Frustrated I pull to quickly dislodge its death grip only to have the roll shear at a bizarre angle exposing the once neatly contained entrails to the elements or worse spraying my uniform with condiments of gelatinous variety.
When I stop at one of my more regular dining destinations I try to make a point of asking that my bagel or sandwich be cut fully in two. Most often the clerk will look at me as if I am a raving lunatic. Yet with regularity despite my explicit requests, there is no parting of the way.
So when you next question your sanity as you get after your kids to get with the program remember that you are at least saving some poor bastard from wearing half his lunch. And with any luck you are preventing a poorly designed building or a half filled tooth. Whatever the outcome the world in some measure will probably be a less frustrating place.
You can't help but wonder then how many parents that have gone before us have surrendered to the temptation of allowing junior to go through life at half measure. What would the implications be? I think I have the answer.
As a semi reformed fat guy who has to eat on the road alot I am compelled to dine often on sandwiches and similar delicacies. Worse yet, circumstances dictate that many times this cuisine must be eaten on the fly, often in a moving vehicle. So you can understand the importance of having an entree of this variety prepared in two clear and identifiable segments. In common parlance, cut in half. Now to the uninitiated you might think that this is a simple request. Take whatever cutting implement is readily at hand and divide the object of my culinary desire in to two more or less equal parts. And to show I am a reasonable person, anything up to the 70-30 split would be acceptable. Despite the simplicity of this concept I am confronted more and more by a phenomenon that complicates what should be a simple part of the day. On the go dining.
More often than not when I reach my mobile dining destination I will greedily unwrap the meal and hope to scarf it down before the radio chirps to life and summons me to the next assignment necessitating the temporary abandonment of the meal. As I go to separate the two halves there it is, a doughy umbilical binding what should be two specific hemispheres of delicatessen delight. Frustrated I pull to quickly dislodge its death grip only to have the roll shear at a bizarre angle exposing the once neatly contained entrails to the elements or worse spraying my uniform with condiments of gelatinous variety.
When I stop at one of my more regular dining destinations I try to make a point of asking that my bagel or sandwich be cut fully in two. Most often the clerk will look at me as if I am a raving lunatic. Yet with regularity despite my explicit requests, there is no parting of the way.
So when you next question your sanity as you get after your kids to get with the program remember that you are at least saving some poor bastard from wearing half his lunch. And with any luck you are preventing a poorly designed building or a half filled tooth. Whatever the outcome the world in some measure will probably be a less frustrating place.
Monday, January 26, 2009
What about the flag dummies?
After finishing up my first midnight tour on my new shift assignment I engaged in my daily ritual of checking some of my favorite blog sites. On my morning visit to The Deacon's Bench a post caught my attention that you can read here. It contains a link to a video produced by those two intellectuals, Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher and features a star studded cast of celubutards. Frankly, it made me nauseous. But I will let you be the judge. What follows is the last forty seconds or so which will give you the idea. If you have an anti emetic available you can see the whole thing over at You Tube.
It just galls me that we still have thousands of men and women in the Middle East fighting for freedom so that imbeciles like this can push their socialist agenda. Of course none of them are smart enough to realize that in a socialist country they would have neither the wealth or freedom that they enjoy. While that particular thought is about as appealing as you can get I think I will stick with my three favorite isms. Patriotism, individualism and conservatism. Here is the piece of propaganda I promised.
It just galls me that we still have thousands of men and women in the Middle East fighting for freedom so that imbeciles like this can push their socialist agenda. Of course none of them are smart enough to realize that in a socialist country they would have neither the wealth or freedom that they enjoy. While that particular thought is about as appealing as you can get I think I will stick with my three favorite isms. Patriotism, individualism and conservatism. Here is the piece of propaganda I promised.
Overregulation
Any conservative worth his salt is against big government. With the inauguration behind us and judging by the talking heads on Sunday television its apparent that our worst fears are being realized. Reid and Pelosi are already beginning to run rampant and its clear that despite what we hope will be dogged opposition by the Republican minority we can all look forward to at least four difficult years with the government reaching deeper in to the pockets of the working stiff and even more intrusion in to our lives.
It seems as though our new President will not be satisfied with draconian government oversight and will be taking a more active role as chief executive in the workplace. Paramedics beware!
It seems as though our new President will not be satisfied with draconian government oversight and will be taking a more active role as chief executive in the workplace. Paramedics beware!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Old dog learns new trick
The adaptability of our species will never cease to amaze me. Take your average drunk for instance. As any experienced medic will tell you one of the most annoying calls to respond to is the person feigning unconsciousness. This type of assignment will generally show up anywhere between one and three am between Friday and Saturday.
The art of faking syncope (an unconscious state for you laymen out there) has evolved over my twenty plus year career. The motivations of faking unconsciousness vary but the common thread is the level of annoyance to the EMTs or Paramedics sent to an address because someone feels they need a little more attention. And it falls to these intrepid professionals to determine if life saving techniques need to be employed or if the person is full of crapola.
"Back in the day" you could obtain an accurate differential diagnosis by a brisk sternal rub or nipple twist. Those who remained unconscious were, and those that sat up violently swinging weren't. Piece of cake. Sadly, Darwinism being what it is has seen an adaptation evolve and now even the most casual faker can withstand those time honored stimuli. The same goes for ammonia inhalants and other more common alternatives.
So on a recent shift we were confronted with a frequent flyer who clearly was faking unconsciousness. What to do? That is when I was introduced to the FIN technique also known in other geographical locales at DNS. As it turns out empirical data collected in a more urban EMS area has shown that no matter how good a person is at feigning syncope and no matter their level of Zen like self control it is nearly impossible to tolerate taking THEIR finger and inserting it into THEIR nostril. If they are faking, instant consciousness and indignation result . As an added bonus, no pain or bruising to the patient. A win win situation.
Kudos to The Fisherman for teaching me this new technique. For all my fellow Paramedics let me fully endorse the Finger In Nose or Deep Nasal Stimulation maneuver. Its, quick, accurate and a real time saver. On a cautionary note, this might not work in all cases. This faker hasn't woken up yet....
The art of faking syncope (an unconscious state for you laymen out there) has evolved over my twenty plus year career. The motivations of faking unconsciousness vary but the common thread is the level of annoyance to the EMTs or Paramedics sent to an address because someone feels they need a little more attention. And it falls to these intrepid professionals to determine if life saving techniques need to be employed or if the person is full of crapola.
"Back in the day" you could obtain an accurate differential diagnosis by a brisk sternal rub or nipple twist. Those who remained unconscious were, and those that sat up violently swinging weren't. Piece of cake. Sadly, Darwinism being what it is has seen an adaptation evolve and now even the most casual faker can withstand those time honored stimuli. The same goes for ammonia inhalants and other more common alternatives.
So on a recent shift we were confronted with a frequent flyer who clearly was faking unconsciousness. What to do? That is when I was introduced to the FIN technique also known in other geographical locales at DNS. As it turns out empirical data collected in a more urban EMS area has shown that no matter how good a person is at feigning syncope and no matter their level of Zen like self control it is nearly impossible to tolerate taking THEIR finger and inserting it into THEIR nostril. If they are faking, instant consciousness and indignation result . As an added bonus, no pain or bruising to the patient. A win win situation.
Kudos to The Fisherman for teaching me this new technique. For all my fellow Paramedics let me fully endorse the Finger In Nose or Deep Nasal Stimulation maneuver. Its, quick, accurate and a real time saver. On a cautionary note, this might not work in all cases. This faker hasn't woken up yet....
Friday, January 23, 2009
Decisons, decisions
Life often presents us with decisions. Some are easier than others. Ten pretty easy commandments give us rock solid guidance when it comes to the biggies. No lying, stealing, we all know the Big Ten. And for even more navigation through life's pitfalls you can refer to the Seven Deadly Sins.
Apparently we need to come up with an addendum to cover some other eventualities.
My good friend, El Guapo (aka Dave the Giant Puerto Rican), who has been known on more than one occasion to make some questionable personal decisions decided to let his shift address his troublesome Man Fro if he again showed up to work with it askew. He certainly won't be mistaken for Brad Pitt. But maybe they will think he is this famous actor.....
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Misspent youth
Since I now have the wonder machine up and running with enough RAM to power a small city I thought it would nice to start catching up on some projects that have been shelved due to inadequate technology. A bit earlier tonight I pried the lid off of one of my many Rubbermaid storage tubs and began to go through some of the thousands of old family pictures that I have promised myself would eventually get digitized. In a perfect world I suppose I would hire some tech weenie to do it for me but the financial reality is that little by little I will attempt to get this project done with the seven or eight extra minutes I have a day.
As I went through the first pile I decided this won't be such a bad deal after all. Old pictures of my Dad from his time in the Marines. A few really old PM (pre me) pictures of my Mom from circa 1960. So, I will plod along until they have all been digitally preserved.
As I thumbed through for some of the more choice selections, I came up with this one. My first car.
This was one sweet ride for the son of a blue collar family. 1973 Olds Cutlass Supreme. Man this thing was a rocket, but what a pig when it came to gas. Sad thing is, my current ride is only a bit more than a decade newer. College tuition, gotta love it.
As I went through the first pile I decided this won't be such a bad deal after all. Old pictures of my Dad from his time in the Marines. A few really old PM (pre me) pictures of my Mom from circa 1960. So, I will plod along until they have all been digitally preserved.
As I thumbed through for some of the more choice selections, I came up with this one. My first car.
This was one sweet ride for the son of a blue collar family. 1973 Olds Cutlass Supreme. Man this thing was a rocket, but what a pig when it came to gas. Sad thing is, my current ride is only a bit more than a decade newer. College tuition, gotta love it.
Job Security
In the area where I live we have two large bridges. And as you might guess it is a popular spot for people to commit suicide. While it is terrible that people feel the need to take their own lives for any reason there isn't much that we can do as a society to prevent stupid people from doing stupid things.
There was recently a bit of public debate as to if it would be a good idea to install some type of fencing on these bridges to prevent people from using the spans as a springboard in to the afterlife. Despite the inclination of the NJ State Government to fund really silly things, even they were not persuaded that fencing these two spans would keep a determined person from seeking out another high public structure. Their response was to post signs telling people that there is help available via a suicide hot line.
Face it, stupid people have and always will do stupid things. While you ponder that point please consider the following video sent to me via email........
The prosecution rests.
There was recently a bit of public debate as to if it would be a good idea to install some type of fencing on these bridges to prevent people from using the spans as a springboard in to the afterlife. Despite the inclination of the NJ State Government to fund really silly things, even they were not persuaded that fencing these two spans would keep a determined person from seeking out another high public structure. Their response was to post signs telling people that there is help available via a suicide hot line.
Face it, stupid people have and always will do stupid things. While you ponder that point please consider the following video sent to me via email........
The prosecution rests.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Humility and perseverance
We all play games with numbers at some point. Most often the juggling is for selfish gain of one variety or another. No honey, we can easily afford a new (insert name of man toy here). Or the ever popular "I really needed this pair of shoes for that wedding we have next week. None of the sixty pair I have match my outfit."
So I should not have been surprised when my huge box of computer parts came via UPS and I sat down for assembly that I swore would take only two hours and it turned in to a week of misery and discontent. What should have been a simple plug and play operation involving an hour or so of assembly and a pot of coffee worth of software configuration evolved in to a mire of incompatible bios settings and several incomprehensible apparitions of the famous Microsoft blue screen of death. For those of you who cut their teeth on windows 98, which had the stability of an anorexic teenage girl with an absent father and low self esteem, you might take that news in stride. Sadly I must report that although you may believe like I that those horrid error messages went the way of zip drives I can assure you they are alive and well and lurking just under the surface of windows XP pro ready to pounce upon those of us stupid enough to challenge new technology without having done a hardware upgrade in seven years.
Dejected as I was dear reader I stuck with it and am happy to report as of this writing that I believe I have exorcised the demons that lie beneath and will within an hour be able to machine gun Nazi soldiers by the time the sun sets. That is of course if I can get the few chores done my wife asked me to do today that I blew off to finish the build project. I am very anxious to take the new machine out for a spin but in fairness to her I have to attend to the chores first.
Its OK though. She said it should only take me an hour or so.
So I should not have been surprised when my huge box of computer parts came via UPS and I sat down for assembly that I swore would take only two hours and it turned in to a week of misery and discontent. What should have been a simple plug and play operation involving an hour or so of assembly and a pot of coffee worth of software configuration evolved in to a mire of incompatible bios settings and several incomprehensible apparitions of the famous Microsoft blue screen of death. For those of you who cut their teeth on windows 98, which had the stability of an anorexic teenage girl with an absent father and low self esteem, you might take that news in stride. Sadly I must report that although you may believe like I that those horrid error messages went the way of zip drives I can assure you they are alive and well and lurking just under the surface of windows XP pro ready to pounce upon those of us stupid enough to challenge new technology without having done a hardware upgrade in seven years.
Dejected as I was dear reader I stuck with it and am happy to report as of this writing that I believe I have exorcised the demons that lie beneath and will within an hour be able to machine gun Nazi soldiers by the time the sun sets. That is of course if I can get the few chores done my wife asked me to do today that I blew off to finish the build project. I am very anxious to take the new machine out for a spin but in fairness to her I have to attend to the chores first.
Its OK though. She said it should only take me an hour or so.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Code Brown, I say again, Code Brown
Ever find yourself confronted with someone covered in their own excrement? Come on, no "you can't believe what happened when I fed little Johnny strained peas" stories. I mean a "fully functioning adult, half naked, covered in his or her own fecal matter. Didn't think so. But I guess from here you can guess where my night is headed.
I guess that's why I chuckle when I see a new "reality" show on television. Undoubtedly the most contrived nonsense ever to hit the airways. I truly wonder how many Paramedics and Nurses would have chosen a much different career had there been but one episode depicting what this business is really all about. How about, Emergency? Johnny and Roy respond to the aftermath of the 1974 greater Los Angeles Chili Cook Off. Or maybe Third Watch. We could give a riveting teleplay for Soho Salmonella.
So next time you are sitting in your boring office cubicle watching "on demand" versions of your favorite show pining for a more exciting career, try to picture that gorgeous actor/actress with the days oral intake magically dripping down their legs. It will give you a reality that will redefine Must Watch TV.
And for goodness sake guys......more fiber.....please.
I guess that's why I chuckle when I see a new "reality" show on television. Undoubtedly the most contrived nonsense ever to hit the airways. I truly wonder how many Paramedics and Nurses would have chosen a much different career had there been but one episode depicting what this business is really all about. How about, Emergency? Johnny and Roy respond to the aftermath of the 1974 greater Los Angeles Chili Cook Off. Or maybe Third Watch. We could give a riveting teleplay for Soho Salmonella.
So next time you are sitting in your boring office cubicle watching "on demand" versions of your favorite show pining for a more exciting career, try to picture that gorgeous actor/actress with the days oral intake magically dripping down their legs. It will give you a reality that will redefine Must Watch TV.
And for goodness sake guys......more fiber.....please.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Penance anyone?
As I arrived to bring my daughter to her piano lesson today I quietly watched as her long suffering piano teacher listened to week 8 of the same kid playing the same tired piece (poorly) again and again. Looking forlorn like an errant Cambodian in a Khmer Rouge reeducation camp it reminded me of the feeling I get when month after month I go to the same address for the predictable heroin overdose. The bane of the working Dad.
Well, its a few extra bucks to shield the kids from a sub standard and spiritually empty public education. And maybe, just maybe a few less days in Purgatory.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Shoot, don't shoot
Donut eaters, overpaid mall cops.....I have heard them all in twenty five years in the business. And considering where most of the comments come from you have to take them with a grain of salt. But what most people often overlook when it comes to the value of police in their community is situations like this one.
Taken at face value it looks as though these two over zealous cops executed this man as he was making an attempt to put down his assault firearm and surrender. After you watch it a few times (as I did because the email in which it was sent had the back story) the cop who is behind the suspect was able to clearly see him going for the pistol in the small of his back.
Appearances can be deceiving. And these two cops had about one second to make a decision that right or wrong will alter the course of their lives, permanently. Remember this video when you see the headlines about over paid police. And try to visit Officer Down Memorial Page frequently. Its a great site dedicated to the memory of the men and women who weren't as fortunate as these two cops.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
FLETC
No, its not a misspelling. That is the abbreviation for the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, the national police academy for almost all Federal Law Enforcement Officers. Located just outside of who knows where Georgia it is the stopping ground for most new uniformed Federal Officers and retraining center for those unfortunate souls who changed titles and have to repeat the same exact curriculum they have already endured. Well what do you expect, your government at work.
Anyway, tomorrow morning my buddy Spike will be driving down to Georgia ( sounds like a Charlie Daniel's song parody) to begin his sixteen weeks or so of hell. On arrival he will join with the intrepid H. Carl Farvman who is three or so weeks in to his retread cycle which will transform him from a polyester wearing flatfoot to a plain clothes I man.
May then enjoy great success and may God keep an eye on the two of them until they return.
Anyway, tomorrow morning my buddy Spike will be driving down to Georgia ( sounds like a Charlie Daniel's song parody) to begin his sixteen weeks or so of hell. On arrival he will join with the intrepid H. Carl Farvman who is three or so weeks in to his retread cycle which will transform him from a polyester wearing flatfoot to a plain clothes I man.
May then enjoy great success and may God keep an eye on the two of them until they return.
Home Improvements
Sometimes you just have to get things done. No matter how long you put things off sooner or later the pile gets too bit, or the list gets too long. Well, I reached that tipping point earlier this week and have been on a roll ever since. I have the little things on the "honey do" list whittled down to some minor crapola and should pretty much have things cleaned up by mid-week.
Among other things today's menu included the assembly and installation of a utility sink and cabinet in our laundry room. I went to Lowes's and picked up a kit. Now I know what you are thinking, a kit. That has trouble written all over it. But it did say on the box that everything I need to finish the install was contained inside. Curiosity got the better of me. So, armed with a large box from American Bath and something or other my wife and I went back to the castle and surveyed what lied before me. Fist the scene of the crime. 
About two hours start to finish. Not a terrible experience, at least I didn't have to look at the guy in the overalls.
Among other things today's menu included the assembly and installation of a utility sink and cabinet in our laundry room. I went to Lowes's and picked up a kit. Now I know what you are thinking, a kit. That has trouble written all over it. But it did say on the box that everything I need to finish the install was contained inside. Curiosity got the better of me. So, armed with a large box from American Bath and something or other my wife and I went back to the castle and surveyed what lied before me. Fist the scene of the crime.
Oh, those pipes are going to be a problem. Bear in mind this sight has been carefully camouflaged from view since about 1996 with a carefully placed dry sink and a pitcher of dried flowers. Old pipes, my chief nemesis. But first, a little assembly.
The dreaded unpacking phase.
And then a bit of assembly................
Don't forget to check out those happening old man overalls! That's some eye candy, isn't it. Anyway...........voila !
About two hours start to finish. Not a terrible experience, at least I didn't have to look at the guy in the overalls.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Elizabeth, NJ LODD
Email I just received says a 29 year veteran firefighter from the Elizabeth, New Jersey Fire Department was killed in the Line of Duty at a working fire today. Please remember him and his family in your prayers.
This is NOT the way to start the New Year.
Update: You can read about this tragedy at this link
This is NOT the way to start the New Year.
Update: You can read about this tragedy at this link
Fresh Cut Christmas Tree?
For those of you who procrastinate, the Christmas Octave has ended and its time to get those decorations packed away for another year. Just on the chance that you haven't gotten to that dreaded chore yet please make sure to put a bit of water in the bottom of the tree stand.
Only 74 Days to Saint Patrick's Day
The sad part is I have a guy in my pipe band that marches just like this. No, I am not kidding. And no, that's not me marching behind him!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Happy 2009
Its New Years Eve and my partner and I will be ringing in 2009 working the night shift. It feels like its sixty below outside and the wind is blowing hard enough to turn me in to a fat, middle aged kite.
Nonetheless, I wish for all of you a safe and blessed New Year. And as the old saying goes, may your best day of last year be the worst of the new.
Nonetheless, I wish for all of you a safe and blessed New Year. And as the old saying goes, may your best day of last year be the worst of the new.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
New Jersey Abbott District funding paying huge dividends
Got this one in the email last night. It is alleged that it was sighted hanging in the window of a Burger King in Newark, NJ.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Traditional Latin Mass......Help Wanted
While checking my email this evening I received a note from the Maestro that he received from Father Bob Gorman at Saint Ambrose in Old Bridge, NJ. The Traditional Latin Mass is being offered at Saint Ambrose on Saturday mornings at 9:30 am. Sadly, after a hiatus the attendance has dropped substantially and it appears that this opportunity will not last if numbers are not boosted. So, if you or anyone you know is interested in this very beautiful liturgy.....see you there.
Port of call
Every once in a while I witness a behavior that in of itself isn't all that offensive. However, when I then remember the eight or nine previous times I have seen the same scenario I feel I must pause to comment. So, as I was in the midst of an inter facility transport today we were delayed by our elderly patient who was upset that her "adult" son would not be able to accompany her in the ambulance for her ride to the new hospital. Despite our assurances that we would be happy to accommodate this very reasonable request she was inconsolable until "sonny" came back from having a coke and a smoke somewhere else in the hospital building. As I watched the interplay between "momma" and "sonny" several things became abundantly clear and I again realized that advice my father had given me many years ago was right on target.
Sonny was my age (mid forties) and did not drive. He seemed to be of reasonably normal intelligence, had no obvious physical limitations, spoke clearly and from what I could tell should probably be a contributing member of society. However, on closer listening to the interplay between the two characters in our little vignette it became clear to me that sonny was a leach who not only still lived with mom but was totally dependent on her for every need.
Now there is nothing wrong with being dependent on someone, particularly in the case of this old lady. Clearly sick and old, at this stage of the game she should have someone to depend on for her needs. Married people with children depend upon each other to meet all the responsibilities of parenting, most times both spouses work to provide sufficient income so her in the Peoples Republic of New Jersey your family does not wind up living in some sad little shed because the state government needs more of your money to fund failing Abbott District schools. Sadly, "sonny" will not be filling this type of role. Because he, like too many other over dependent "adult" children never learned how to fend for themselves and remain in this artificial child like state waiting for "mommy" to take care of his needs.
I remember my Dad explaining to me that raising children is kind of like a ride in a boat. When the kids are small you have to do all of the rowing and make sure they have their life jacket on. As they get a bit older you try to coax them over the side in order that they can learn how to swim on their own. At some point however if they are going to be stubborn you might be called upon to toss them over the side so they can learn to save themselves. That's not to say that you row away and leave them to drown. On some level no matter how old you and your parents get it seems they are always near by in the boat ready to throw you a life line if you need one. But not "sonny". He and so many like him got booked in to a first class cabin and have no plans on setting foot on the dock.
Sonny was my age (mid forties) and did not drive. He seemed to be of reasonably normal intelligence, had no obvious physical limitations, spoke clearly and from what I could tell should probably be a contributing member of society. However, on closer listening to the interplay between the two characters in our little vignette it became clear to me that sonny was a leach who not only still lived with mom but was totally dependent on her for every need.
Now there is nothing wrong with being dependent on someone, particularly in the case of this old lady. Clearly sick and old, at this stage of the game she should have someone to depend on for her needs. Married people with children depend upon each other to meet all the responsibilities of parenting, most times both spouses work to provide sufficient income so her in the Peoples Republic of New Jersey your family does not wind up living in some sad little shed because the state government needs more of your money to fund failing Abbott District schools. Sadly, "sonny" will not be filling this type of role. Because he, like too many other over dependent "adult" children never learned how to fend for themselves and remain in this artificial child like state waiting for "mommy" to take care of his needs.
I remember my Dad explaining to me that raising children is kind of like a ride in a boat. When the kids are small you have to do all of the rowing and make sure they have their life jacket on. As they get a bit older you try to coax them over the side in order that they can learn how to swim on their own. At some point however if they are going to be stubborn you might be called upon to toss them over the side so they can learn to save themselves. That's not to say that you row away and leave them to drown. On some level no matter how old you and your parents get it seems they are always near by in the boat ready to throw you a life line if you need one. But not "sonny". He and so many like him got booked in to a first class cabin and have no plans on setting foot on the dock.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Taming the Beast
So, what to do when you find out that you have nine coming for Sunday dinner and everyone is tired of pork. Well, first off to the local wholesaler for a suitable piece of meat. Thus, the beast.
This is an 11.25 pound piece of unfortunate bovine that was destined to be the center piece of our family dinner for ten. While I am not sure of the cut it is probably the next to the last part of the cow that made it over the fence. After some careful research yesterday on my new favorite cooking website http://ochef.com/ I found that slow roasting at around 250* F would take the tough out of this massive fellow. So the day before I covererd it in some liquified garlic/onion paste that I augmented with some fresh ground sea salt, cracked black pepper and a bit of paprika. But what to do for gravy. Having the palate of a cleft lipped sommolier I reached for a recent vintage 
that was a favor from the nuptials of H. Carl Farvman.
that was a favor from the nuptials of H. Carl Farvman.Looking for something a bit more full bodied (good bourbon and cheap cigars have taken their toll over the years) I added some dried mushrooms I got on the cheap at the grocery store some weeks ago. At the time I didn't know what I would use them for but then it became abundantly clear.
And so it began. I popped the wretched creature in the oven at around ten thirty after lettting it reach room temperature. Then it was on for the six hour tan. Complimented by a nice pasta salad compliments of my blushing bride, some
nice semolina, green salad and a roasted potato side dish we coaxed ole Bessy from the oven and were greeted by the fruit of my labor.
Then only six chose to attend. Seven if you count the carefully disguised interloper trying to mooch a free meal..... 
How can you say no to a face like that?
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Old friends rediscovered
Since I was very young I have loved to read. The joy in finding a good book or talented author is tremendous. I think the only thing that rivals the feeling is to rediscover a book or author that you had forgotten about over the years and enjoying their work all the more the second time around.
Over the years my tastes in books has remained relatively constant. I don't go much for the pulp of the day and often find myself reading satire. One of my favorites is PJ O'Rourke. I just finished rediscovering his "Republican Party Reptile", a collection of essays from various magazines that have employed him over the years. Following is his definition of a Republican Party Reptile...
"I think our agenda is clear. We are opposed to: government spending, Kennedy kids, seat-belt laws, busing our children anywhere other than Yale, trailer courts near our vacation homes, all tiny Third World countries that don't have banking secrecy laws, aerobics, the UN, taxation without tax loopholes, and jewelry on men.
We are in favor of: guns, drugs, fast cars, free love (if our wives don't find out), a sound dollar, and a strong military with spiffy uniforms. There are thousands of people in America who feel this way, especially after three or four drinks."
Over the years my tastes in books has remained relatively constant. I don't go much for the pulp of the day and often find myself reading satire. One of my favorites is PJ O'Rourke. I just finished rediscovering his "Republican Party Reptile", a collection of essays from various magazines that have employed him over the years. Following is his definition of a Republican Party Reptile...
"I think our agenda is clear. We are opposed to: government spending, Kennedy kids, seat-belt laws, busing our children anywhere other than Yale, trailer courts near our vacation homes, all tiny Third World countries that don't have banking secrecy laws, aerobics, the UN, taxation without tax loopholes, and jewelry on men.
We are in favor of: guns, drugs, fast cars, free love (if our wives don't find out), a sound dollar, and a strong military with spiffy uniforms. There are thousands of people in America who feel this way, especially after three or four drinks."
If you need a few laughs and some intellectual stimulation any of his stuff is great. Parliament of Whores or Eat the Rich are two good choices. And he's still readable after three or four bourbons.
Katie's revenge
I am a dyed in the wool dog person. I make no apologies. And until I met my wife I will confess that I never met a cat person that I really liked. So as fortune would have it for the first twelve years of our married life I have cohabited with a minimum of two felines at any given time.
Its not that I have any particular disdain for the specie, but what the hell is the point. They are aloof, sneaky and if you have the good sense of de-clawing them to preserve your furniture they are useless in occasional service as agent of death for the occasional household pest.
But I always knew deep in her heart my wife was a dog person and during a grinding war of attrition I finally convinced her that our home needed a good canine companion. In my own larger than life "go big or stay home" manner of living it was preordained that I would have a large dog. Thus, Inkey the Newfoundland came to be and all was well, or so I thought.
As I mentioned, there are two cats in our humble menagerie. The first is a rather large Maine Coon that from square one lay down the law and now peacefully coexists with the Newf. Katie on the other hand is our neurotic cat and since the arrival of the dog she is rarely seen. Banished to the parallel universe of the "upstairs" where the dog rarely travels she has been reasonably content at night time interaction with the family and has not been too much trouble. Peace in our time. Well, maybe not.
Christmas Eve afternoon while getting ready to get in the shower before church I went to fetch my towel which usually is draped over the side of the claw foot tub. For some reason the towel had fallen into the tub and I reached in and yanked it out only to be greeted by the sight of a huge parcel of feline feces which apparently Katie deposited in thanks for her exile. My wife thought this was funny, until she discovered a similar if more liquid present in the gift bag containing her sisters Angora sweater.
Cat people......they don't know what they are missing.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Silent Night
Everyone is finally all tucked in dreaming of the goodies under the tree tomorrow. It was my 47th Christmas Eve at my Mother's house and incredible as it seems, it gets better every year.
I have a great many things to be thankful for.
May the choicest blessings of Almighty God descend upon your homes and family.
I have a great many things to be thankful for.
May the choicest blessings of Almighty God descend upon your homes and family.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Blessings in disguise
I received this via email this morning. The author is unknown.
In 1974 when I first joined the police department, I knew there would be special occasions my family would spend without me; knowing that fact didn’t make the task any easier. The celebrations I missed those first years depressed me and sometimes made me feel bitter. Working on Christmas Eve was always the worst.
On Christmas Eve in 1977, I learned that blessing can come disguised as misfortune, and honor is more than just a word. I was riding a one man patrol on the 4 to 12 shift. The night was cold. Everywhere I looked I saw reminders of the holiday: families packing their cars with presents, beautifully decorated trees in living room windows and roofs adorned with tiny sleighs. It all added to my holiday loneliness. The evening had been relatively quiet; there were the usual calls for barking dogs and a residential false burglar alarm. There was nothing to make the night pass any quicker. I thought of my own family and it saddened me further.
Shortly after 2200 hours, I got a radio call to the home of an elderly, terminally ill man. I parked my patrol car in front of a simple Cape Cod style home. First aid kit in hand, I walked up the short path to the front door. As I approached, a woman who seemed to be about 80 years old opened the door.
“He's in here,” she said, leading me to a back bedroom. We passed through a living room that was furnished in a style I had come to associate with older people. The sofa has an afghan blanket draped over its back and a dark solid Queen Anne chair sat next to an unused fireplace. The mantle was cluttered with an eccentric mix of several photos, som e ceramic figurines and an antique clock. A floor lamp provided soft lighting.
We entered a small bedroom where a frail looking man lay in bed with a blanket pulled up to his chin. He wore a blank stare on his ashen, skeletal face. His breathing was shallow and labored. He was barely alive. The trappings of illness were all around his bed. The nightstand was littered with a large number of pill vials. An oxygen bottle stood nearby. Its plastic hose, with facemask attached rested on the blanket. I asked the old woman why she called the police. She simply shrugged and nodded sadly toward her husband, indicating it was his request.
I looked at him and he stared intently into my eyes. He seemed relaxed now. I didn’t understand the suddenly calm expression on his face. I looked around the room again. A dresser stood along the wall to the left of the bed. On it was the usual memorabilia: ornate perfume bottles, white porcelain pin case, and a wooden jewelry case. There were also several photos in simple frames. One caught my eye and I walked closer to the dresser for a closer look. The picture showed a young man dressed in a police uniform. It was unmistakably a photo of the man in bed. I knew then why I was there. I looked at the old man and he motioned with his hand toward the side of the bed. I walked over and stood beside him. He slid a thin arm from under the covers and took my hand. Soon I felt his hand go limp, I looked at his face. The re was no fear there. I saw only peace. He knew he was dying; he was aware his time was very near. I know now that he was afraid of what was about to happen and he wanted the protection of a fellow cop on his journey. A caring God had seen to it that his child would be delivered safely to him. The honor of being his escort fell to me.
When I left at the end of my tour that night, the temperature had seemed to rise considerably, and all the holiday displays I saw on the way home made me smile. I no longer feel sorry for myself for having to work on Christmas Eve. I have chosen an honorable profession. I pray that when it's my turn to leave this world here will be a cop there to hold my hand and remind me that I have nothing to fear.
I wish all my brother's and sister's who have to work this Christmas Eve all the Joy and Warmth of the Season.
In 1974 when I first joined the police department, I knew there would be special occasions my family would spend without me; knowing that fact didn’t make the task any easier. The celebrations I missed those first years depressed me and sometimes made me feel bitter. Working on Christmas Eve was always the worst.
On Christmas Eve in 1977, I learned that blessing can come disguised as misfortune, and honor is more than just a word. I was riding a one man patrol on the 4 to 12 shift. The night was cold. Everywhere I looked I saw reminders of the holiday: families packing their cars with presents, beautifully decorated trees in living room windows and roofs adorned with tiny sleighs. It all added to my holiday loneliness. The evening had been relatively quiet; there were the usual calls for barking dogs and a residential false burglar alarm. There was nothing to make the night pass any quicker. I thought of my own family and it saddened me further.
Shortly after 2200 hours, I got a radio call to the home of an elderly, terminally ill man. I parked my patrol car in front of a simple Cape Cod style home. First aid kit in hand, I walked up the short path to the front door. As I approached, a woman who seemed to be about 80 years old opened the door.
“He's in here,” she said, leading me to a back bedroom. We passed through a living room that was furnished in a style I had come to associate with older people. The sofa has an afghan blanket draped over its back and a dark solid Queen Anne chair sat next to an unused fireplace. The mantle was cluttered with an eccentric mix of several photos, som e ceramic figurines and an antique clock. A floor lamp provided soft lighting.
We entered a small bedroom where a frail looking man lay in bed with a blanket pulled up to his chin. He wore a blank stare on his ashen, skeletal face. His breathing was shallow and labored. He was barely alive. The trappings of illness were all around his bed. The nightstand was littered with a large number of pill vials. An oxygen bottle stood nearby. Its plastic hose, with facemask attached rested on the blanket. I asked the old woman why she called the police. She simply shrugged and nodded sadly toward her husband, indicating it was his request.
I looked at him and he stared intently into my eyes. He seemed relaxed now. I didn’t understand the suddenly calm expression on his face. I looked around the room again. A dresser stood along the wall to the left of the bed. On it was the usual memorabilia: ornate perfume bottles, white porcelain pin case, and a wooden jewelry case. There were also several photos in simple frames. One caught my eye and I walked closer to the dresser for a closer look. The picture showed a young man dressed in a police uniform. It was unmistakably a photo of the man in bed. I knew then why I was there. I looked at the old man and he motioned with his hand toward the side of the bed. I walked over and stood beside him. He slid a thin arm from under the covers and took my hand. Soon I felt his hand go limp, I looked at his face. The re was no fear there. I saw only peace. He knew he was dying; he was aware his time was very near. I know now that he was afraid of what was about to happen and he wanted the protection of a fellow cop on his journey. A caring God had seen to it that his child would be delivered safely to him. The honor of being his escort fell to me.
When I left at the end of my tour that night, the temperature had seemed to rise considerably, and all the holiday displays I saw on the way home made me smile. I no longer feel sorry for myself for having to work on Christmas Eve. I have chosen an honorable profession. I pray that when it's my turn to leave this world here will be a cop there to hold my hand and remind me that I have nothing to fear.
I wish all my brother's and sister's who have to work this Christmas Eve all the Joy and Warmth of the Season.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Two turtle doves and an 18 foot Boston Whaler
Okay, so the title wouldn't have made much sense to me either if I hadn't been there. Last Saturday or so on a day shift my intrepid partner Baccala and I were sent to an ALS call for trouble breathing. It took us a bit longer to get their than usual as the truck that normally covers that part of our area was elsewhere and we had to be a bit more careful than normal. After all, the weather has not been the greatest and while suburbia is all ablaze with Winter splendor it seems that people are focused on everything aside from avoiding the urge to pull or walk out in front of the Medicaid taxi. But I digress.
As we entered the complex we were initially delighted to hear the local volunteer BLS already on scene. A miracle in itself as they are showing up less frequently these days. Expecting to see an ambulance (which as it turned out would have been useful, imagine that) as we turned the corner we spied a large rescue truck and a pickup truck towing an 18 foot Boston Whaler festooned with cheap strings of lights carrying a dirty Santa. As we alighted from the bus and collected our wares his alleged BLS companions just stood by the vehicles and stared, slack jawed at our presence. Not an unusual occurrence but you would have thought one of the elves would be making some attempt at getting an ambulance to the scene. When Baccala unsheathed his acerbic wit to ask if someone had drowned, they didn't get it. Well, at least it made me laugh.
Undaunted we waddled in to the house where the Cop was administering oxygen to the afflicted person while yet another volunteer stood in the corner rakishly sporting a Santa hat. It sure put the Hindu woman in congestive heart failure in the Christmas spirit. Though the timely arrival of transportation might have slowed her visit with Vishnu.
As we entered the complex we were initially delighted to hear the local volunteer BLS already on scene. A miracle in itself as they are showing up less frequently these days. Expecting to see an ambulance (which as it turned out would have been useful, imagine that) as we turned the corner we spied a large rescue truck and a pickup truck towing an 18 foot Boston Whaler festooned with cheap strings of lights carrying a dirty Santa. As we alighted from the bus and collected our wares his alleged BLS companions just stood by the vehicles and stared, slack jawed at our presence. Not an unusual occurrence but you would have thought one of the elves would be making some attempt at getting an ambulance to the scene. When Baccala unsheathed his acerbic wit to ask if someone had drowned, they didn't get it. Well, at least it made me laugh.
Undaunted we waddled in to the house where the Cop was administering oxygen to the afflicted person while yet another volunteer stood in the corner rakishly sporting a Santa hat. It sure put the Hindu woman in congestive heart failure in the Christmas spirit. Though the timely arrival of transportation might have slowed her visit with Vishnu.
Okay, who pulled the emergency brake?
This one was forwarded to me via email by my brother. A good sentiment to remind us to end the madness and get in to the true spirit.
Twas the month before Christmas
When all through the land
Not a Christian was praying
Nor taking a stand
Why the PC Police had taken away
The reason for Christmas, no one could say
The children were told by their schools not to sing
About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things
It might hurt peoples feelings the teachers would say
December 25th is just a "Holiday"
Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit
Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it
CDs from Madonna, an X Box and I Pod
Something was changing, something quite odd.
Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa
In hopes to sell books by Franken and Fonda
As Targets were hanging their trees upside down
At Lowes the word Christmas was no where to be found
At Kmart and Staples and Penny's and Sears
You won't hear the word Christmas, it won't touch your ears
Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty
Are the words that were used to intimidate me
Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzer
On Boxer, on Rather, on Boxer and Clinton
At the top of the Senate there arose such a clatter
To eliminate Jesus in all public manner
And we spoke not a word as they took away our Faith
Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace
The true gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded
The reason for the season stopped before it started
So as you celebrate winter break under your pine tree
Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me
Choose your words carefully, choose what you say
Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS, not happy holiday
Monday, December 8, 2008
Going Green and the Death of Rocky Racoon
It should not have been ignored but to my detriment I denied the obvious. For the last three nights I toiled at the medic job, and yes, it was not good. Throughout the three shifts I perceived of a tickle of the instinct I like to call, The Crapometer.
Usually the Crapometer is an accurate way to determine the eventual outcome of a call. For instance, pull up on a home for a cardiac call and see handicap ramps or a Dodge Dart in the driveway, its going to be a work up. Unconscious person call at a tavern, the crapometer goes off the scale. Cancelled by the BLS. While it is a useful tool in the public safety workplace the Crapometer can sometimes be a first line of defense in detecting a disturbance in the status of your domestic tranquility. Unfortunatley, I had ignored the signs.
Due to a pretty bad night shift and busy morning I elected to nap this afternoon and let my wife go to Mass for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception by herself while I planned to go in the evening. The arrangements having been made I continued to finish a few things around the house in preparation for a few hours of much needed sleep. But for some reason my Newfoundland was highly agitated and barking like a maniac both in and outside of the house. After a cursory look around the yard and finding nothing amiss I brought her in and yelled at her to be quiet and settled down for my nap.
About an hour later I was awakened by my wife's panicked calling of my name. (married guys will know the tone of voice well, its not a scream but it will raise the hairs on your neck when you hear it) So as I rapidly dislodged myself from the couch my wife related that there was a sick or rabid racoon in our side yard. She verified the veracity of this information as the alarm had been initially raised by our across the street neighbor, we'll call her Mrs. Kravitz.
So, I grabbed my Glock 17 off duty pistol and responded to the side yard where indeed I found Rocky, the apparently rabid racoon who had drawn his line in the sand near my stockade fence by the garbage cans. After doing some mental calculus I took aim at his pointy little head and fired one 9mm round at him. Bad luck for me, he ducked at the last minute and it hit him in the shoulder. Great, now I have a rabid, wounded and highly pissed racoon who then effected a hasty retreat in to my open garage door. Holstering my sidearm and employing a rake I managed to herd him back in to the driveway. Concrete!! No place to be firing rounds. He gradually made his way across the street to a neighbors yard where finding myself in a relatively safe place I fired again. Nothing! Then two more rounds!! Still he lived. I began to feel like Virgil Salazzo in The Godfather. Then two more.....well at least by now I wasn't shooting at a moving target. What the hell was this racoon wearing, a kevlar coat? Finally the coup de grace and he was off to Racoon Valhalla.
Seven rounds for a racoon. I could not have missed, or could I. Post mortem exam by the Animal warden showed 7 holes more than he was born with. My marksmanship vindicated I retired. Perhaps a Remington 870 from Santa.
So after a crappy day involving a doctor's appointment, off duty shooting, a wake and Mass where I am reasonably certain the Priest was Scat Singing during the liturgy, I returned to my humble abode where I lit a nice fire....and decided to go green.
RIP Uncle Maran
In a family as large as mine and with the occasional tendency toward Jerry Springer worthy sagas its not always possible to get to know all of the extended clan well. In fact just this summer I met a second and third cousin I never knew I had. Thats the case with Great Uncles too to some respect. I knew of Uncle Maran since I was a grade school kid. But I never really got to know all that much about him until he was nearing the end of his life's journey and I was mired in the hectic pace in the middle of mine.
Uncle Maran was married to my Ciocci (Polish for Aunt) Julie for 67 years. They were a weekly regular at the 10:30 Mass at our Parish and I can still envision them sitting in the same spot. I would run in to them from time to time around town and they were always ready with a warm and loving hello, even if they weren't particularly sure at that moment which of her sister's sons I belonged to.
He never split the atom or brokered any major diplomatic solutions to the world's problems but he led the life of a good man. He worked hard to provide for his family, raised three kids, served his country with the rest of the Greatest Generation and practiced his faith. And to his dying day in that wretched nursing home he was my Ciocci Julie's sweetheart.
May the Lord be merciful in his judgement of this good man and grant him eternal rest.
Uncle Maran was married to my Ciocci (Polish for Aunt) Julie for 67 years. They were a weekly regular at the 10:30 Mass at our Parish and I can still envision them sitting in the same spot. I would run in to them from time to time around town and they were always ready with a warm and loving hello, even if they weren't particularly sure at that moment which of her sister's sons I belonged to.
He never split the atom or brokered any major diplomatic solutions to the world's problems but he led the life of a good man. He worked hard to provide for his family, raised three kids, served his country with the rest of the Greatest Generation and practiced his faith. And to his dying day in that wretched nursing home he was my Ciocci Julie's sweetheart.
May the Lord be merciful in his judgement of this good man and grant him eternal rest.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Soccer Moms and Sunday Mass
The eminent Father Jay over at Young Fogeys has a good post about skewed priorities. He says in part....
A significant amount (but not all) of Catholic parents don't see the connection between their child(ren)'s religious education classes and Sunday Mass. Some think it is sufficient to send their child(ren) to the classes, but not attend Mass regularly. Religious education is a service they pay for and expect to be done for them but not by them (like getting the car tuned up). Can you imagine signing little Johnny or Judy up for soccer, taking them to the practices during the week, and then not taking them to the actual games?
He makes a great many good points in his piece which can be found here.
We chanted.....We Rocked!
I purposely waited a few days before posting on the first public performance of our schola. Its really easy to be overly enthusiastic on an early assesment. At about 9:30 we met in the church basement with the main choir for a bit of warm up. I think we were all a bit nervous, even the well experienced Maestro. Undaunted we cruised up to the choir loft and before you knew it, Introit! Wow. I will admit that our timing might have been a bit tighter but all things being equal, it sounded great. The church is an acousticly graceful space and by the time we reached Deus, Meus the sound had round its way back up to the loft and it was just AWESOME!
Per the Maestro we fully hit our stride for the Communio. It made for a most peaceful, prayerful atmosphere. The twenty or so regular choir members (very experienced group) just kind of sat back and gave that "way to go rookie!" nod of the head. Can't wait for Sunday.
Per the Maestro we fully hit our stride for the Communio. It made for a most peaceful, prayerful atmosphere. The twenty or so regular choir members (very experienced group) just kind of sat back and gave that "way to go rookie!" nod of the head. Can't wait for Sunday.
Christmas party kick off
I'm off to the first Christmas party of the year. Thus, thirty or so coppers, tons of Portuguese food and open bar. Alas, day shift tomorrow so I must behave.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Cop Hurt in Crash with Robbery Suspect
On Monday night I met an officer from a neighboring county who was in town to serve an arrest warrant. I just read on the news that Officer Chris Coon was seriously injured in a high speed crash and is extremely critical condition. I really didn't get to talk to him much but he seemed like a really nice guy. Please keep him in your prayers. You can read about the crash here!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
They're back !!
It took almost two years but the day has finally arrived. The locally famous Burger Express has made their glorious return. Central New Jersey's answer to Geno's in Philadelphia is once again serving their signature Locomotive Burger from their location in Carteret, NJ.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Latin Mass in Old Bridge
Mass will be celebrated in the Extraordinary Form at Saint Ambrose Parish 96 Throckmorton Lane in Old Bridge, NJ at 10:00 am.
Update. I called the rectory and there will be no missals available so you will have to supply your own. This is apparently their first attempt at the Extraordinary Form and they hope to make this at least a monthly event. Mass will be said by the Pastor Father Gorman.
Update. I called the rectory and there will be no missals available so you will have to supply your own. This is apparently their first attempt at the Extraordinary Form and they hope to make this at least a monthly event. Mass will be said by the Pastor Father Gorman.
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