Long, Hot Weekend In Our Future – Let’s Keep Out Of Each Other’s Faces.

I get the feeling that I’m the only one who watches the whole video when people post the latest “Brutal cop beats upstanding minority scholarship winner/grandmother/wheelchair bound disabled vet/paralyzed sheep dog” videos on the web, particularly Facebook.

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

Why do I watch them? Because violence of that sort is fascinating to a writer. Also, given my skills, experience, and training I see things differently. Sometimes that means that I’ll be on the sidewalk cheering when they lead officer stupid to the waiting car in cuffs. Most of the time I see where the judgement call went south but wasn’t too terrible. From time to time I see one that was done perfectly for the cops and the people involved. Other times I see videos that have been manipulated to create chaos and unrest. But I watch them and put them into their little boxes and think about them. Now I’m writing about one of them.

My friend Reggie posted one earlier today that sure looked like a young, white, female cop beat an elderly black woman and slammed her to the ground for no good reason. First glance was really horrible. Camera shook at a vital moment but stuff happens, right?

I watched the video 10 times. By the third scan I was pretty sure my hunch was right. By scan 6 I was positive about what happened. By scan 10 I knew the video was trying to stir up another racially based incident. So, take a minute to watch this 5 year old video that is now being presented on social media as an indictment of the police for brutality. I’ll explain it afterward. (Language alert!)

So, looks awful at first glance. Until you take a breath, watch it start to finish, and observe what happens. If you stop at the first flash of the woman being taken down, you’d blame the cop unless you were listening closely. If you were listening closely you’d hear the officer asking the woman to drop the knife.

Wait: isn’t that an indicator of a threat? Yup. She (the officer) neutralizes the threat. Our rule was pretty much like this: you bring a fist, I bring a stick. You bring a stick or a knife and I bring a gun. You bring a gun, I have all my friends bring guns.

The woman was evidently suffering from dementia and not all there in the incident. But when you face a knife, you face death. One slash/stab from that blade and you can die. There’s no “hit the wrist and get the knife. Why? You’re inside the threat circle and can be killed or wounded by the knife. Taser from ten feet might be good, but …not always a taser handy. So what does the cop do? She picked the middle ground and used martial arts to disarm the woman when she wouldn’t drop the knife and stand still. Beats getting shot.

Now, listen to the bystanders until the end of the tape. Lots of commentary about how she was standing in the lot waving a knife around – that’s why somebody called the police in the first place. She was a threat to herself and others. The cops can’t just say, “She’s old, she’ll tire out soon and go home.” Nope, immediate threat.

So, after watching this and posting my comment on the entry with my analysis, my friend Reggie chimed in: he approved. You see, I’m white, he’s black. But we’re brothers. At the same church. Friends, colleagues, compadres. And that relationship trumps the race-baiting nastiness that seems to be so popular in this country this week.

Two reasonable men, one white and one black, took the time to study the video and came to the same conclusion. The cops didn’t want to do it, they are clearly anguished over the woman’s being hurt. They treat her well once she’s not a threat. No beating, no nasty, no naughty. What they should do.

This weekend as you travel about, try to remove that filter on your brain. Not all cops are good, not all cops are bad. Not all black people are good, not all black people are bad. Not all white people are good, not all white people are bad. But we are all people. Children of the living God. What say we act like it and treat our brothers and sisters well until they prove themselves unworthy. Optics matter. Color doesn’t.

In the meantime, I wonder if Reggie is up for dinner after church? I need to break bread with a man of valor and conviction. A man who values truth over teams.

Silence Is Toxic: Sexual Predators Thrive On Silence.

I am an outspoken advocate of dealing with sexual predators in ruthless ways. Those who rape, and molest, are the lowest forms of life on the planet in my opinion. Nothing can be stolen from you with more devastating impact than the ability to control your own body. It steals childhood from children, they joy of sexual intimacy from adults, and dignity from all the victims. It is not their fault but they pay the price.

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

I happened across this video on Facebook, and then tracked it to youtube.com. His name is Scott Spideralamode according to his various social media accounts. I have a hunch he’s for real. I’m sure he’s had a rough go since doing this video. Not because it was a bad thing, but revealing a secret like this is shattering in so many ways. Please watch the video and then we’ll resume.

Amazing, eh? Stuff like that never happens to tough guys (wrong!) I’ve never been molested or raped. But I’m close to several people who have been assaulted and had parts of their lives stolen from them. The thing I’ve found is that each of them told me about it in the hope that I wouldn’t judge them, or be mad, or disown them as a part of my life. I can’t say that I’ve always taken the news well. A few times it laid me low.

But both of us, the abused and the listener, grew stronger as a result of that shared secret. I know for a fact that getting it out in the sunlight where disinfection can begin has helped a few of them. A few still keep it a dark part of their lives, known only to a very select few friends. I have found that those people are troubled by it and poisoned by it far more than those who are open about it.

I know that when some read this blog they will think I’m talking about them. Perhaps. But does it matter? I hope not, except that if they are still harboring the secret they will open up and give it some air. Many whom I’ve never met will fall into this category. If you’d like to anonymously share your story, I’ll compile a collection and tell your story – no names, no email, nothing. Just email me the story at headdoofus AT commotioninthepews DOT com (Yeah, you have to “do the math” or the web bots spam me senseless.) It might be the first step in freeing yourself, just like Spider, from the poison of being a victim. All I ask is that you present it in a way that I can print the story on a family/public blog.

You are not alone. You are not responsible. You are loved. I’m offering some sunshine to help heal wounds. Please consider it if you would.

Other Than The New Header, I Want To Chat About Stuff.

Seems that the blog is no longer the eye-catching mother of all inventions that I’d hoped it would be when I put it up a few years ago. Consequently we will be exploring some new headers over the next month or so. Today’s is a very lovely Kimber .45 on top of an Arabic Bible. Kind of like the way it looks, how about you?

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

Now, back to our regularly scheduled blogging…

Monday morning started at 05:30. That blasted alarm went off exactly as it should have, and Stormy and I got busy right out of the chute. She quietly went about her business and I got ready to hit the road. Once she’d finished fertilizing I set the alarm and headed for my first stop of the day.

Instead of taking the car I walked. 6.5 miles to be exact, but it was a glorious morning and at 0645 the traffic is pretty light. I made my way over to University Avenue and walked through the neighborhood known as Little Mekong. At 0715 the drug pushers, hookers, and general lay-abouts are not cluttering up the sidewalk. You see a lot of young men headed to manual labor jobs, a few business men waiting for the train, a bunch of older Asian women headed to their stores, and very few souls total.

It’s a great time to be on that street in that neighborhood: the pork is starting to simmer for lunch and the bakeries are busy turning out donuts and Bahn Bo. I have a major weakness for the stuff and it started me on the road to being ravenous.

Half way through my walk I arrived at stop #1. I was at a church to meet with the installer who was going to wire up our computer room. I’m not a member of the church, but it’s the place where I used to tutor kids. I’d built the computer room and put in the first internet system a few years ago. Today we upgraded. I’m pretty handy with wiring and working my way through small holes in thick walls. With my help it only took the installer about twice the time it normally would have taken him. By the time we were done, we were both covered in filth, plaster dust, boiler ash, and 60 year old dust and dirt from the ceilings we drilled through.

Normally this is not an issue. But now I was a stinky, dirty, large fellow walking past the State Capitol. Yup, looked like every other homeless dude in the neighborhood. I stopped at my beauty salon to make a hair appointment for my best friend – my beard. The receptionist actually gasped when I walked in the door. Then she recognized me. For that first split second I’m sure she was in fear for her life. Glad she couldn’t get to the panic button before she figured out it was me.

Perchance you remember my railing about my local McDonalds? Today proved, once again, why I have given them a few months off. I stopped in for a cone on the final leg of my journey. A dip cone, to be precise. The very nice woman behind the counter said no dip cones at that time. Okay. A regular cone would be acceptable. I’d just walked 6 miles and was a bit peckish.

I’m pretty sure the manager was crouching on top of the shake machine, because she sure swooped in at an acceleration of 9.8 m/second squared. She shrieked (yes, that is the appropriate word) “Who told you you could sell cones???!!!!” The nice woman behind the counter cringed and asked if I’d like something else. “Yes, my money back.”

Guess they need another month off.

After a brilliant, yet foot-sore, conclusion to my walk, I did the shower and lunch thing with my beautiful wife. That is a tale for another time. I’m still a little shaken from the flying monkeys pouring out of the castle windows.

Sorry About The Misunderstanding.

I’m not very attentive to much of what happens on Facebook, I generally look at the pretty pictures and wander on to the next post about puppies or beheadings. (Yeah, seems to be the two top topics today. Weird, eh?)

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

So you can imagine my surprise when I was told that I had the whole ALS Ice Bucket Challenge thing backwards.

The judge told me today, and my attorney concurs, that if I wrote a blog about the incident the charges would be dismissed and we could all move on to the next item in our lives. I’m good with that concept.

I was under the impression that you had to dump a bucket of ice water over the head of three people you’d challenged. Then they would do the same thing to three other people. If you got the chain going, ultimately dozens (if not hundreds) of drippy, shivering people would give money to a charity. It made perfect sense to me: you stay dry, tag three imbeciles who aren’t situationally aware, and then they try to get the next three.

I’d even done it the right way, made a video for Facebook, challenged the three vict…candidates to be aware of my approach and give them a chance to donate to ALS. Heck, I even did a professional voice over job on it with Lou Gherig as my background! lougherig

I didn’t realize that you were supposed to douse yourself and then challenge three other people to do the same. I’m still a bit mystified about that part of the thing: why would you soak yourself with ice water? But I digress.

It seems that the three people I challenged got wind of my posting and called the police. Seriously, I figured prominent politicians like those three would have a sense of humor and just make the donation rather than risk getting doused. The judge said the words I used were threatening. Not true: I don’t threaten – I promise.

In any event, they made me take the posting and video down as part of the plea arrangement. I have agreed to donate to the ALS foundation in memory of Lou Gherig, and if I don’t “threaten” any public figures for one year my record will be expunged.

All in all, couldn’t they have just sent me an email soliciting funds? Those attorney fees are steep.

Broken Teeth From Grinding.

My regular readers will attest to the fact that I am not a grammar Nazi. I’m not even a grammar facist. I’m not sure I know enough to get in trouble with grammar.

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

I am, however, an advertising fanatic. I watch/listen to commercials and grind my teeth to the point where real pain is a problem. Sometimes it’s just bad sentence constructs. Most often it’s really bad pronunciation. Today’s particular issue is the trend in advertising where you say something to get the attention of the listener and then tie your product in somehow. Without any logical link. Or, any common sense. I will demonstrate:

“You know, Dean, Colorado has more mountains than Belgium. That’s probably because our customers here at Moronco have more time to go skiing since we plow their driveways for them year round.”

I would give you the precise language of the two commercials (in heavy rotation) that have set me to the edge of violence, but they might sue me. If they were smart enough to realize they’d been insulted. I doubt they could do the math. (See how stupid that alone is?)

Let’s dissect the example for fun, eh? I’ll grant you that Colorado has more mountains than Belgium. I mean, Duh. But how in the name of Stormy’s barking fits, does that equate to being caused by snow plowing or skiing?

Is the author of the copy for the ad such a complete dimwit that they don’t understand linkage? Are they trying to get me to remember the name of the company? (It doesn’t work, I can’t remember them while I’m fuming about how stupid they are…) Or am I so pathetic that the smartest trend in advertising is losing me as a customer.

That must be it! I’m way more stupid than I ever realized. I guess that’s a part of being stupid. Whew, glad that revelation came along.

Now I can go back to planning my trip to the state fair. I have jam entered. You know, Minnesota produces more jam than Wisconsin produces movies about zombies. So we can all sing bass now.

Please, God, come soon. The dumbing down of my culture is almost complete.