Buzz Paths

Myself and a few friends have been bantering back and forth via emails about the shooting in Sanford, Florida last month. A few of the guys on the email list are cops and a few are lawyers. The lawyers wanted to hear about this from a cop’s perspective.  Here is just one of them:

It does sound like Zimmerman took some lumps but that’s problematic too if he forced the confrontation with Trayvon thus causing Travon to have to kick his ass in self defense. Could be a chicken or the egg thing that only a patient investigation can answer, which is why it was reasonable for cops not to arrest him on the spot, something that the Sharptonites are not capable of understanding.

This is an email a cop friend in Florida wrote to a lawyer friend of mine:

The Sanford situation has been blown way out of proportion. Yes the police made mistakes but not because they did not arrest the shooter on the spot. Here’s the problem from my perspective as a cop. First, you have to understand how the machinery works in bringing criminal charges. The police can make an arrest on the spot if they have the necessary probable cause, a term I don’t have to explain to you since you’re an attorney. Or, if the case is not so incredibly clear enough to be comfortable in making the physical arrest on the spot, the police can conduct an investigation, compile all the investigative prosecutive information into a case package and then forward it to the prosecutor’s office (the State Attorney’s Office as it is known in Florida), and the State Attorney will give it the review and do whatever they want to do, which can be to issue a warrant for an arrest, take it to the grand jury, or nolle prosse (not prosecute the case), or or maybe send the bad guy to some other diversion program, yada yada.

In the Sanford case, the complication is that there were NO eyewitnesses to this shooting. Yes, there are some folks who consider themselves witnesses for having heard a shot and came outside to see the fallen body and the guy with the gun etc,, but not a single one of these witnesses when it comes down to it SAW the shooting or the scuffle between Zimmerman and Martin that preceded it. Does it seem like Zimmerman is some type of cop wannabe who thinks of himself as neighborhood protector – absolutely, did Zimmerman follow the kid even after the police dispatcher told him he should stop, absolutely, was Zimmerman heard to make comments about “these assholes getting away with it,” absolutely. Could Zimmerman have self-created his own dilemma by forcing the confrontation that made the kid feel that he himself was in fear of Zimmerman and felt he had no option but to fight with Zimmerman, absolutely. A lot of good questions, that could not be answered on the spot in the absence of eyewitnesses. Thus, this case required further investigation, much more in-depth investigation. Another issue is the speedy trial rule, which in Florida means that when an arrest is made, the trial must be held within 175 days, unless of course the defendant himself asks for a continuation. An investigation of this scope could well take longer than 175 days, so it could very possibly jeopardize the case to make the arrest on the spot with very little to support the case, and then be under pressure to try to build the case before speedy trial runs. A hurried investigation is too often a mistake riddled investigation. The prudent thing for the police to do in the absence of eyewitnesses and physical evidence, is to take the time to investigate fully, find answers to all of these questions and hopefully even for more evidence, not for the benefit of Zimmerman to keep him out of jail because he is white as the Sharptonites want everyone to believe, but to put the strongest case together against him so that when the case is presented to the prosecutor and or grand jury, it would be the strongest possible against Zimmerman. This is what Sanford PD chose to do.

The mistake that the Sanford police made is that they failed to hold press conferences immediately early on to explain to the family of Trayvon and the community, exactly all of this that I just explained to you. There was not one single iota of that kind of community outreach by the Sanford police to explain this process. And that lack of communication and outreach is what led the family and community to conclude that just because an arrest wasn’t made on the spot, Sanford PD was doing nothing. And you know the rest, without answers and communication, they left the community to come up with their own answers and explanations, and considering, I’ll try to put this delicately – the “demographic” of the community involved as is often the case, they supplied the answers and explanations themselves in the worst possible light – racism of course.   What a shock. Begin the Million Hoodie march, begin the Occupy Sanford movement, bring in the Sharpton – the king (and by the way confirmed discredited) race-baiter purveyor or race hatred, and here is where we are.

Again Sanford PD’s error was not in not making the arrest on-scene the night of the shooting, their mistake was in their piss poor public relations in reaching out to the family and community with the whys and wherefores of the investigation.  And because of that failure by Sanford PD we are now at a bad place that has me nervous. The Governor has now appointed a special prosecutor to prosecute the case. Well and good, but what happens if in the end, the prosecution still feels that even though we all believe Zimmerman is every bit the bad egg that everyone makes him out to be, there isn’t enough to prosecute him for some degree of homicide, or if they do, he isn’t convicted. I fear the black community will never accept it, and the result will be Rodney King styled riots again, with violence and more death.

As for the Stand Your Ground Law, it should not surprise you that I don’t see a problem with this law and I support it. I don’t think the stand your ground law caused this problem. I believe Zimmerman was hell bent to cause that confrontation with Trayvon Martin, and he was probably far too dim witted, and it’s giving his dim witted brain far too much credit, to have processed that he would intentionally kill Trayvon with the well thought out plan to then invoke the stand your ground law’s  “I was in fear of my life and had the right to defend myself” intent. Again, Zimmerman is a known cop wannabe who would have done this if not now, at some time, to someone else, regardless of the stand your ground law.

Here’s what else turns my stomach. The Sharptonites have put the Sanford city commissioners in such fear that they have voted a no confidence on the police chief and the chief has now stepped down. So another words, the black community went crazy pumped up by the race card playing Sharpton baiters and through fear and intimidation they got the bb balled city commission to cave and oust the police chief. The message then – anytime something doesn’t go just right for someone in the Sanford’s black community, I’ll go ahead and even exaggerate just a little to make the point – say, a traffic ticket that a black person feels was unfair, the racism accusations will fly, the Sharptonites will rally the masses to descend on City Hall, the bb balled city commissioners will then cave again and oust another police chief. Who in the hell would want to apply for the police chief job in that town now. I can tell you that over the past 10-15 years there has been talk of disbanding the Sanford PD and just let the county sheriff’s office take over law enforcement service there. The reasons for that talk in the past had been mostly budgetary, but I can assure you the talk will pick up again, and that town could conceivably lose its police department over this. I wish that Sanford PD had the common sense to have employed the proper public relations and community outreach at the beginning of this case with the reasons and explanations for why they went the direction they did, and we might not be where we are today. Sanford PD’s incompetence in that regard is indisputable.

Trayvon Martin - AP/Facebook

Aired on WDBO, Orlando, February 23, 2012: 8:23 a.m.

WRITE IN: Virginia lawmakers have voted to get rid of one controversial abortion consent rule and replaced it with another..but it’s still not law yet. ABC’s Andy Field has details.

VERBATIM: Virginia’s Governor and House changed the controversial abortion consent bill removing a rule that forced women to get a trans vaginal ultrasound before getting an abortion. NARAL PROCHOICE president Nancy Keenan says the new rule would still require an external ultrasound (It is unconscionable and this should be between a woman and her doctor and not politicians in Richmond.) The Virginia senate and governor must still ok the abortion rule Andy Field ABC News

First of all, let me begin by saying that although I consider myself a dyed-in-the-wool conservative, I most definitely diverge from my fellow conservatives on some things, chief among them, abortion.  Sorry fellow conservatives, this may disappoint you, but I’m not against it.  In fact, not only am I not against it, I’m all for it.  In fact, if it were up to me we’d have a whole lot more of it.  In fact, I’d be issuing discount coupons.  How about Ladies Night with abortions 2 for 1.  In fact, I’d be for advertizing blitzes like the car dealerships do.  The Orlando car dealership’s ad “Where Everybody Rides,” should be followed by the abortion clinic’s ad “Where Every Baby Dies.”  We all remember Dan Aykroyd’s old character on Saturday Night Live, Irwin Mainway, President of  Mainway Novelties, makers of such great hazardous children’s toys as Bag O’ Glass – I’d like to see Mainway put ‘Bag O’ Bortions’ on every pharmacy shelf.  You get the picture I’m just not a kid kind of guy, I’m pro-choice.  Deal with it my fellow conservatives, I prefer puppies.

Now, having said all that and making my position on the subject graphically and morbidly clear with what I assure you is satire, I would warn the other pro-choice thinkers who believe the government should force insurance companies, employers and churches to pay for women’s contraception, you haven’t turned me.  Don’t rejoice because I’m pro-choice.  No, I am not your friend.  You are hypocrites.  The hell you say?  Listen again I’ll repeat it for you.  You who want the government to force insurance companies, employers and churches to pay for women’s contraceptives are hypocrites.  Why?  Well, since you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you.

My reasoning can be encapsulated in the header story above reported in yesterday’s news out of the State of Virginia, where National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws (NARAL PRO-CHOICE) President Nancy Keenan protested a rule in an abortion consent bill which would require women to have an external ultrasound before getting an abortion.  Keenan said “It is unconscionable, and this should be between a woman and her doctor and not politicians in Richmond.”   Oh really?  I invite you to closely analyze Keenan’s statement and spot the hypocrisy.  On one hand Keenan pronounces that contraception should only be between a woman and her doctor.  But then in the same breath, she and the Occupy Contraceptive crowd also demand that politicians pass laws forcing insurance companies, employers and churches to pay for women’s contraceptives.  So in other words, in the world according to Keenan, contraception should be between a woman and her doctor and not politicians – But apparently ONLY until women want the contraceptives without having to pay for it, THEN all of a sudden contraceptives become a matter between the woman and her doctor AND her politician.  Funny how that works isn’t it?

If you’re expecting your insurance company to cover your nose job, your boob job or your hair transplant, your insurance company is going to tell you to take a hike because those are elective procedures.  The last time I checked, having sex was also an elective procedure, and the expenses involved with it from the hotel room to the contraceptives are the responsibility of the participants.

I may be pro-choice, but to you of the Occupy Contraceptive crowd, you are hypocrites, and I am not your friend. 

By the way, not to open up a can of worms here, but why is the Occupy Contraceptive crowd discriminating against men?  Why aren’t they also demanding that vasectomies be free?  And the absurdity continues.

We now re-join Sir Bobalot, the Knight in Rusty Armour,as he approaches the Great Swamp of Memories along the winding road of his life. He stops at the edge,removes his helmet and then ponders whether to proceed straight through and possibly sinking into his past or travel around towards the unknown. Unlike a fire breathing dragon,this challenge he can only see in his mind and has the same level of skill and cunning. The invisible foe that lies before him is……HIMSELF. Let’s watch the Rusty Knight from the cover of trees and thickets and let today’s birthday story unfold…

Since Feb.3 fell on a workday this year and the Superbowl is tomorrow,any birthday dinner or shopping for myself will be scheduled for today. I have been up since 6:30am because all 3 cats were pawing my face and whomping the stuffing out of me for their breakfast. There was no sense in going back to sleep, so as the coffee was brewing I stood in front of the fireplace mantle where all the recent birthday cards are displayed. They are the usual mix of silly jokes and reminders not to worry about getting older. As I looked them over I began to recall exactly 12 months ago how I was told that life begins at 50. This wisdom of course came from people older than myself. These are the people that got married in the 50,s and early 60’s, were employed by large companies with benefits for many years,bought houses in the suburbs with 30yr mortgage,had children early,no long term depressions and could save for retirement along with pensions,social security etc,etc. They got a mortgage and had kids in their 20’s and in their 50’s the kids are gone and the mortgage is paid. I then turned toward my Armour that I have forged during my life so far and noticed a little more rust on the tops of the metal boots. I realized how it got there and in a low voice said to myself…”don’t piss on my shoes and then tell me it’s raining”.

( We may recall that when our Rusty Knight turned half-century and was up to his iron waist in offers from AARP, it was also Sir Bobalot’s darkest hour. Unemployed for a long time with little hope, savings completely wiped out,economy destroyed..all was lost. Then,months later the call came for him to once again saddle-up and ride. With high hopes and very low wages our oxidized hero is now charging and slashing his way forward in a desperate attempt to start his life over from scratch. This is what brings him to the edge of the Great Swamp of Memories.)

As I look out over the swamp and watch many of my fondest memories of my past bubble up and mix with some of the dark ones. I must decide whether or not to forget the past and leave it far behind or hold on to it and and run the risk of dragging it like a heavy chain into the unknown,hindering any progress. This problem hit me like a lance at full gallop a while back in the Rite-Aid drugstore. I entered the store as a favor for a coworker and as if lured by a temptress I stopped dead in my tracks at a display of toy cars and trucks. There before me was an exact model of my first car. The moment I saw it the memories engulfed me like a prairie fire. I purchased the little toy car hoping to pay homage to the original for giving me such happiness while I had it and lightly wishing to be reunited so the thrill could be relived. Be careful what you wish for…..

Now that I have been working steadily since mid-May is not really necessary to don my rusty action wear every hour for helping others and day- to- day- daring-do…until a few days ago while driving a heavy company truck north on hwy36 past Keansberg/Union Beach. As I was slowing down for a red signal ahead a familiar shape caught my eye on the side of the road. A moment later it came into full view and suddenly a shocking chill flashed up my spine. Like a man possessed I swerved over to the shoulder and brought twelve and a half tons of steel pipe,fire hydrants and valves to a screeching,bone crushing halt. My eyes were like burning red coals staring down at what stood before me and my diesel burning steed….

Only the most powerful sorcery could have conjured up such an object to test me! The little toy car I brought home was now full size and standing only a few feet away! As I looked over her hood to the windshield another chill ran through me like a knife…

It has been said that the pen is mightier than the sword and in this case it is true. Even if I would have been wearing my rusty tux that day I would have sheathed my Excalibur and chose not to fight and to wait until the odds were tilted in my favor. The reason is because the pen wrote..FOR SALE. Until we meet again temptress,I have your number.

Looking over the swamp with my helmet in one hand and sword in the other,I have decided to use my old school construction skills to solve the dilemma.(the Rusty Knight’s secret identity is a carpenter). I do not wish to avoid my past by going around it and taking the long way,nor do I want to be lost or sinking in it. After all, my past is what made me what I am today. We have been told to either” think inside or outside the box”. Being of limited means and starting over, I think maybe it’s time to use the box itself…to carry my tools through whatever lies ahead. As I look around the Great Swamp of Memories I see everything I may need…trees for lumber and raft,long vines for lashing. I would much rather build a bridge out of logs and vines so that I can often travel back and forth whenever I want. I would also make it strong enough for cars to cross like green Maverick’s,yellow Novas and orange Pontiac’s from the past.

Now that our slightly corroded crusader is another year older, he realizes that a certain age or finding employment does not determine when your life begins. I does however, begin when you start living each day to the fullest and working with what you have at hand. You can first build a raft and then use it to build a bridge. We(Rusty’s friends) have all had more hysterical,fall down,piss yourself laughing good times making and flying paper hot air balloons than anybody will ever have playing electronic games..ever.

I’m sure we will look in on the Rusty Knight from time to time and to follow his adventures. Fair maidens, dragons,swamps,cars…nothing is off limits to this squeaking,clanking cowboy!

Well, it’s time for a coffee refill and later on Sir Bobalot will be off to supper with his Hooters Gift Card! A lot of the waitresses know that the Rusty Knight helps animal rescue with medical supplies and pet food. He drops off cat and dog food donations to a few of the girls at Hooters that have rescues also. Hot babes love a hero,even if he’s a year older.

Orlando Sentinel columnist George Diaz in a January 26 commentary “Well, hail to the chief malcontent in Boston,” attacks Boston Bruins goaltender Tim Thomas as a petulant child for declining an invitation to the White House, and now Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick has shamelessly climbed on board the bash-Thomas Express, using his gubernatorial platform to launch a similar attack on Thomas.  They and the rest of the critics of their ilk are out of line.  These critics used their platform to trash Thomas for his personal political feelings which are none of their damn business.

Thomas didn’t make a grand spectacle of his decision to decline the White House invitation.  He didn’t call some big press conference or go on talk shows to discuss his decision and parade his political beliefs like Hollywood’s pompous self-proclaimed political rocket scientists like Janeane Garafoolo and Rosie O’Dumbasss are so fond of doing.  He simply declined the invitation.  But when pressed for a reason by folks like Diaz and Gov. Patrick who demand, and are convinced they have a right to, and are entitled to an explanation for his personal decision, Thomas obliged with his answer expressing his personal disfavor with how the government – BOTH parties – have been running America lately.  If Thomas doesn’t want to lend his celebrity status as a professional sports athlete to an event held in a political arena, that’s his business and no one else has a right to demand that he does.

Yes, it may be a tradition for athletes to go to White House gatherings, and yes maybe one day Thomas will feel differently and regret that his face is missing from a photo.  But it is his decision to make.  There are surely many folks who would value a White House invitation.  Tim Thomas and surely others, do not.  For writers like Diaz and politicians like Gov. Patrick to use their platform to impose their own value of a White House invitation upon Thomas or anyone else, and then stomp their feet and rant against them for not valuing it as they do makes them the petulant children.      

George Diaz

COMMENTARY

January 25 2012, 9:00 PM EST

Tim Thomas doesn't know my buddy Ruben Perez, but he should. 

The complete article can be viewed at:

http://www.orlandosentinel.com/sports/os-diaz-white-house-tim-thomas-0126-20120125,0,7489424.column 

Gov. Deval Patrick on Bruins goalie Tim Thomas: It seems like we’re losing ‘basic courtesy and grace’ 
Source: boston.com

1) Bank of America and Netflix

After weeks of uproar Bank of America has scrapped its plans to implement the $5 per month debit card fee. First, with all the outrageous drunken sailor spending by Barak Hussein Obama’s Administration that is truly torturing Americans, it’s just plain goofy that of all things it is this silly little $5 fee that drove so many American’s insane – really? Anyway having said that, what is significant and good to see, is that alas, it was not the government intervention clamored for mostly by the liberal Occupy types that caused Bank of America to change its mind. No, as much as he would have loved to, Obama’s government never got the chance, so he can’t claim credit for this rescue. No, the free market acted too fast and solved its own problem before Obama could get his hands on it, and thus robbed him of his victory. It was good old fashion customers putting out the clear message saying “Listen up Bank of America, you ain’t the only game in town, we have options, and if you do this, we’ll just take our money and our banking business elsewhere.” Walla – fee is history! And that my friends, is how it is supposed to work, a business exercising its freedom to respond or not, to he voice of buyers in a free market who made it clear they would exercise their own freedom to take their business to where they can get a better deal.

Very much the same reaction that American’s gave Netflix over the past few months in which Netflix lost over 800,000 customers virtually overnight by doubling the price of their service. Netflix was a victim of being taken in by their own press, believing that they were the only game in town and they got cocky. But the collective voice of the customers in a free market spoke up and told Netflix the same thing they told Bank of America, “Newsflash Netflix, you ain’t the only game in town, we have a shit pile of other movie viewing options” and customers left in droves exercising their freedom of the free market to avail themselves of those other options. Just like with Bank of America, no government intervention, no government needed to take care of the people and solve their problem, just the free market taking care of itself, and that’s how it’s done in a real America. The operative word – Freedom!

2) Herman Cain

Yes Herman Cain has run into a buzz saw, and anyone who didn’t think that the ghouls would look for anything to burst his campaign bubble was kidding themselves. Having said that, it’s becoming clearer with each passing hour, that the allegations against Cain are based on innuendo, and involve nothing more than gestures that were said to have made some women “angry – again, really?

Those of us who are cops know that we and our agencies have been subjected to lawsuits as a result of a call for service we were involved in, calls in which we did nothing wrong. Even though our agency acknowledged that we did nothing wrong, our City or County without blinking an eye still dumped the lawsuit off to its insurance company to settle it and make it go away with a quick payment because it’s cheaper than fighting it. It’s a simple business decision that is made every day in the lucrative depraved world of lawyers and litigation and everyone knows it. But that’s not even the point.

Again none of the allegations against Cain at least so far (knock on wood) allege anything physical, but the attacks on Cain by liberals are merciless, while the same liberals gave Bill Clinton a free pass for receiving the The First Blow Job in the Oval, or should we say Oral Office. Even uber liberal feminist Gloria Steinem was charitable concerning Wild Bill saying “he was entitled to one free grope.” A Blewinski under the desk in the Oral Office was a grope-and-a half wouldn’t you say? Then there was former liberal rising star and Democrat presidential hopeful John Edwards impregnating his mistress while his wife was dying of cancer. Pillars of virtue both, but when it comes to moral outrage for liberals, Wild Bill scoring his Oral Office Blewinski, and Edwards spreading his seed don’t even come close to the horror of Herman Cain’s “gestures” which made a couple of women angry? But again, that’s not even the point either.

My real point here is that in the face of all this, we still must maintain our good humor, and to that end, I said all of the above just to set up the following comical beauty by Conan O’Brien: ‘Herman Cain is having to respond to claims that he once sexually harassed women. Apparently a German woman kept telling him, ‘Nein, nein, nein’ ” Hey, I don’t care how conservative I am or how much I may support Herman Cain, dog gone it, that’s pretty funny.

Lying Casey

By Ted Silberstein
(With apologies to ‘Casey at the Bat’ by Ernest Lawrence Thayer)

It was no slam dunk for the State’s prosecution team when it started back in ‘08
Casey had a bigger lie to tell with each new passing day.
When precious Caylee was lost, and the way she would heartbreakingly be found,
A sickly silence fell on O-Town, then the outrage would abound.

Searchers many filled the woods, psychics, bounty hunters were there,
They searched for precious Caylee through their deepening despair.
While Casey laughed and joked, and partied without a care,
This Hollywood whodunit was building, pathos filled the air.

Then Caylee’s tiny body was found and the game began to change,
Casey got cuffed and stuffed and thrown into her county cage.
But Casey scoffed, flipped us off, and turned up her snotty nose,
She stuck to her many stories, as the peoples’ anger rose.

Jose Baez and Cheney Mason rushed to Casey’s side,
There was also that freaky lady lawyer who marries cons sentenced to die.
Casey selected her Bad News Bears team to try to save her life,
No character assassination was out of bounds for them, not George or Cindy his wife.
For Young Jose and Old Cheney, anything was of use,
Even dragging Casey’s dad’s name through Mudville,
accusing him of sexual abuse.

There was ease in Casey’s manner as she strode into the court,
She looked at the judge, the jury, and cops et al, to whom Caylee’s disappearance she didn’t report.
Like an insolent cocky batter, Casey stepped up to the plate,
But unlike the five thousand throats in Thayer’s tale, this crowd was full of hate.
Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip,
But Jose put her hair in a schoolmarm bun, and wouldn’t let her wiggle her hips.

Prosecutors Ashton, Drane Burdick and George, stood tall for Caylee and the State,
The biggest court room battle since OJ, to settle Casey’s fate.
A battle royal from arrest to trial, bitter and stormy and fierce,
Hard to believe the entire saga would go on for over three years.

The players were many, Zanny the Nanny, George and Cindy and Lee,
From Kronk to River, and Melich to Belich, and don’t forget Dr. G.
They sparred about duck tape, some experts were real flakes,
And talk of colonizing flies,
There was junk in the trunk, silver cans filled with funk,
And Contempt of Court for a punk.

Ashton was sharp, smacking sizzling line drives of clear logic all over the field,
Jose would object but Judge Perry was ready, with “Overruled” at Jose’s every squeal.
Drane took aim, and brought Jose nothing but pain,
But when Casey’s team looked like they might buckle,
The game took a turn when Ashton got burned, and got caught in the midst of a chuckle.

But our Prosecutors were so strong it seemed that nothing could go wrong,
We were sure Caylee Marie would have her day.
She would be able to rest, the State did its best and Casey finally would pay.

But the sneer is gone from Casey’s lips, her cocky swagger’s back,
As she counts the coming fortune soon to be rolling down her track.

None of us could believe our ears, we all were seeing red,
Ashton and Drane Burdick, our jaws dropped at the verdict
“NOT GUILTY” is what they had said.
Ashton and Drane Burdick bar none are THE BEST, and fought the bravest of fights,
But the jury had left the dugout feeling the case just wasn’t air tight.

Oh, somewhere in this Disney land, justice may shine bright,
But Casey’s going clubbing soon, something isn’t right.
Somewhere Caylee’s crying, lying Casey gives a wink and a shout,
But there is no joy in O-Town –
Lady Justice has struck out.

So now that Bin Laden has been dispatched to his celestial aqua-nap and sleeps with his 72 sturgeons, perhaps it is time to follow the example of Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf who in a gesture of unification to build bridges between the Muslim and non-Muslim worlds will build his mosque at Ground Zero. 

Let us join Imam Rauf, and in kind seek to build a church and synagogue center next to the remains of the Bin Laden compound in Abbottabad, which will soon become radical extremist Islam’s own sacred ground zero.  Do you think Pakistan would respond in kind by following the lead of New York’s politicians and allow it to be built?

It is Saturday morning and my responses to our E-Diner yarns were delayed due to the fact that it’s busier than a Kansas City stockyard next door. We have been assisting any way we can the last few days to make the blushing bride’s (“Dana”) big day go as smooth as a peeled egg. The wedding starts in a few hours and will be filled with twenty-somethings probably texting each other inside the church. I can smell the aroma of my Cauldron of Comments that is already starting to boil and bubble. I will call “em as I see ’em. I got myself caught up in an interesting situation on Thursday evening and along with your misc. comments about young people versus adults, I will unleash a story that has all the elements of a classic fable that I will call “A Knight in Rusty Armour”. It will be descriptive, heartwarming, very wordy and contain dragons and an unlikely hero. The preparation of this wedding also helps to heat the cauldron. A woman would consider the fable more seriously. Chivalry is not dead and I can prove it. By the way, the cat’s stool sample was negative. Here comes the bride so I must get dressed, in Killer Threads…

I’m back from the wedding, it’s late and all is quiet. I’m pondering the idea of starting the Knight story for you guys. I think I’ll make a pot of coffee first. I’ll be right back….OK I’m back. If you guys have to go to the bathroom, now is the time. You know how wordy I can get. Here we go…”Once upon a time…..”

It was late Thursday afternoon while driving home from filling out yet another job application, my cell phone rang and was told to report to the large dress shop that “D” uses for formal frocks. The store was open until 8:30pm and it was already 5pm. This was a final attempt to find a “better outfit” to wear to (today’s) wedding. With all the action of a red Torino in a Starsky & Hutch car chase, It was balls-out to the frock shop. Why my opinion matters now is beyond me, since I’m told I’m never right and have been in this scenario and store many times. Nevertheless I arrive in true Adam-12 style.

The store is fairly large and is chock-full of formal, party, wedding and prom dresses and gowns. The sizes range from zero to 28 so you must be prepared for sudden shocks as females go in and out of the row of dressing booths to get opinions from relatives, spouses and friends. There are also multiple full-length mirrors in this area and it tends to look like a carnival fun house. Some people don’t understand why you should not try on a mermaid style gown if you are pushing over 200 pounds.

While my better half was busy in her quest, I took a seat at ground zero by the dressing rooms since this is were the decision making process takes place. By this time the only other customer in this area was a senior woman and a young girl in a sweat suit getting ready to try on a few garments she was carrying. I didn’t pay much attention and sat across from her after she politely said hello. She looked dismal so I started a little small talk and was informed that she was the girls grandmother and was “stuck with the job” of escorting her because her mother was too busy and would not make the time to shop for the THREE proms she was invited to. Wow…that was harder than I would slam a door. I was still uncomfortable as I pondered why ma and g-ma would not be proud that others thought enough of the girl to invite her to three expensive formals. What makes this young lady different? I was about to find out….

What emerged from the dressing area left me breathless. She was a beautiful girl-next-door classic with long thick wavy hair that was a mix of honey and the color of old copper pipe. Her velvety skin had a warm tone. The gown she had on was a floor length number that was the color of hot molten flowing lava. It was a very sleek, fitted rig. Like most females she started to do the little war dance in front of the mirror that consists of twisting her head and turning to check the look of every angle along with creating invisible high heels by standing on their toes. This ritual and the wet hair towel wrap-and-flip are developed moments after birth. The front of the dress came up to a halter style top that was sporting enough cleavage to keep you constantly daydreaming. When she turned around and pulled her hair forward I saw that the dress was completely backless. The back was cut so low that when your eyes run down her spine it feels like a fast ride on an elevator the way your stomach jumps when you stop at the ground floor. The fabric made her ass look like a perfect mouth-watering peach. She was built for speed and if the person that will be escorting her wants to put their arm around her they will have to shift down into 2nd to handle those curves.

You could tell by the look on her face and the tone of her voice that this was a “must have” and she also tried on two others that were “keepers” and would bring these deadly weapons to bear at the other functions. One was a green rig similar to the lava dress and the other was a short dark purple atomic reactor that left little to the imagination and will leave a path of destruction and broken hearts like the Martians did in War of the Worlds.

What she did not realize is that this was about to happen to her…

All the while the young lady was trying the garments, she would ask g-ma for constructive advice and opinions.

Deep in the Forrest of Taffeta the young lady was trying on the garments, she would as g-ma for constructive advice and opinions. All she received was snide comments and dull remarks about style, price and colors. This gathered my full attention and I caught g-mas game early on. This girl was sweet and not a spoiled bee-otch and did not deserve this badgering.

No matter what this girl would wear to a formal, rest assured the front of her would capture every ones imagination upon entering and the back of her would hold their attention until long after she walked out of sight.

The negative comments continued with each garment and I could see what it was doing to the girl. I could not stand by and do nothing so after every comment I would throw a few complements and opinions as heavy as blacksmith anvils, frustrating g-ma. She knew in her heart that her three selections were perfect and asked g-ma if she could purchase them this evening. G-ma fired back with “that’s your mothers decision-it’s her problem.” I was still stunned as the girl opened up her cell phone to call her mother for permission to buy the garments. She closed her phone after a brief conversation and I could see the anticipation drain from her face. She told g-ma that her mother had not time for this right now and that the best she could hope for is for (mom) to bring her back tomorrow and “we’ll see”. THAT DID IT…

G-ma responded with a smug look and told her hang up the dresses and get ready to leave. I could feel the anger welling up inside me and the feeling of my clothes turning to metal. The heavy sensation of the Excalibur was in my right hand. The area around my glasses became dark as if looking through the openings of a bucket shaped helmet. The girl was crushed. The heavy stench of brimstone surrounded the g-dragon and her large bat-like wings engulfed the maiden in a sinister shadow.

With heavy heart the maiden handed back the dresses to the sales lady and asked if the could be held until she could return with her mom the next day. The lady said she would hold them only until late afternoon because it will then be Friday (busy) and it is the height of prom shopping season.

I could feel the sting of the g-dragon’s tail as she clutched the maiden in her talons and flew out of the shop, positive that she would report her version of what transpired to her offspring (mom) upon arriving at her lair.

The gouges, rust and scrapes in the Armour that I have forged over my lifetime so far, reflected back from the mirrors and reminded me that I have slain far more tenacious foes than what I have just encountered. Cutting the head off the g-dragon was no longer an option. What was needed was a device of lethal cunning, with the ability to slay not only the g-dragon but also her no-time-for-this offspring, from a far distance.

I explained what happened to the sales lady and asked to see the prices of the 3 frocks. The green number and the purple killer were.. NOT CHEAP and if combined would amount to half the price of my first used car. The Lava dress however, had an additional tag along with two other stickers. I asked the sales lady to help decipher the price and she said that the tag was a price reduction due to the fact that it was the last one left and will not be reordered or it has been discontinued. The stickers allowed an additional 50% reduction. My iron attire squeaked as I pointed my heavy sword directing her attention to the very tall rack near the dressing booths. “That ‘s the rack (truthfully) that the girl picked the gown from..” “and there is a little sign on the top that says additional 50% off” She looked up and said “what sharp eyes you have!” and then said yes, there would be another reduction of the marked item. (reduced price minus 50% minus 50%) “SOLD!!” I said to her and she was taken by surprise. I instructed her to ring up the dress and hold it for the girl and give it to her as a gift with my complements should she return with her mother, and also tell her that I want to make sure that at least one of her three wishes comes true. The sales lady as deeply touched and asked what to do if she did not return. I instructed her to credit my account if she did not return, changed her mind or was not comfortable with a stranger’s gift or just put the funds toward the other items. She took my number a promised to call with the outcome no matter what. Gallantry is way cool. As I left the frock shop my Armour felt lighter and more comfortable as I squeaked, rattled and clanked towards the car. It’s been a long time since I donned these devastating duds.

Friday had my mind on various distractions and while cleaning the litter box around 4pm, my cell phone rang. I answered and a woman’s voice said “is this Bob?” (yes) “this is the sales lady from the dress store” ” the young lady and her mother came back today and I told them the whole story and the young lady is with me and would like to talk to you-please hold.” A moment later a sweet voice said hello an started gushing with gratitude and thanked me repeatedly along with a quiver in her voice that also had undertones of disbelief. I told her that she was more than welcome and to have fun at whichever function she decides to wear it. I also told her that it is common to alter the gown by cutting it above the knees for use as a party or cocktail dress after the formal is over. I asked if her mother will let her get the other two dresses and she paused and quietly said maybe not. I instructed her to keep up the pressure and tell mom the money she didn’t spend on the gown she now has can be put toward the other two. I wished her all the best and said good-by to the fair maiden.

As I closed up the cell phone I said to myself in a low voice: “Fair Maiden…I kneel before you and offer you my compassion and to prove my devotion, I offer you this gift…it is the head of the Dragon.” THE END

I know you are all wondering the same things and you will haunt me until I tell you. The young ladies name is EDITH (e-dee) and the final cost of the Lava Gown was $49 bucks. Bob G.