He threw a towel over his shoulder and grabbed a white mesh bag full of toiletries. He walked towards the railing and stood in the walkway. He was now standing right in front of me.

All of a sudden, he stretched out his arms with the white mesh bag still in hand and he started singing.


Oh. My. God.

And he was good too!

continued from 7-30-14 

Moses Story

I saw Moses enter the shower room and disappear as he went around the corner. He began singing again & extra loud too. I think because of the acoustics. It sounded great. I looked around and saw the other inmates pointing at the shower smiling & talking to one another. It looked as though everybody was enjoying it. I’m not exactly sure what he was singing, but it was definitely from the Motown Era.

I climbed down from my rack and walked over to the handrail.

“Don’t let them see you leaning on the handrail,” D warned me. “For some reason they don’t like that.”

I took D’s advice and folded my hands behind my back.

As Moses continued singing, I walked back over to my rack and grabbed a pen & paper. This was when I decided to write things down; take little notes here & there.
Notes to this very story you’re reading now.

The song eventually ended and Moses remained quiet. The other inmates went back to doing to whatever it was they were doing before Moses took their attention away. Some went back to playing cards, the volume on the television went up, headphones went back on, &c.
You get the idea.


When Moses returned, I noticed he didn’t have any socks. He wore his jailhouse slippers (aka “Bob Barkers”) without any socks. He stayed mostly in his rack with his feet tucked in under his blanket. The rule was that you were NOT allowed to bring your blanket up past your waist during waking hours only.

I’m not sure why such a rule exists,
but I’m sure the reason is either violent and/or gross.

I admit, I felt a little sorry for Moses. But honestly, who wouldn’t? Once a week, inmates  who could afford to do so received conversary. Simple Items, like peanut butter, crackers, Ramen noodles, underwear & socks. Shampoo, toothpaste, bar soap, &c.

I bought Moses a pair of socks. I’m a softy (at heart).
By doing so, I made a jailhouse crazy friend. Which, I thought, could actually be a good thing to have – if you think about it.

Back Story

The reason Moses was incarcerated is an interesting story in itself.
Obviously, Moses is crazy. In fact, it was his craziness that landed him in the Porter County Jail in the first place. It seems Moses was under the impression that he had some money coming to him…a lot of money. However, he couldn’t touch of any of it because it was “tied up” in the court system.court-35678_1280

Well, Moses thought he had waited long enough and so he paid the people who (he thought) were responsible for the delay a visit. Not having a drivers license, he walked to the Porter County Municipal Building. Once inside, he insisted on speaking to a judge about obtaining his money. Now, I don’t know if there was a particular judge he was looking for but when they told him that they didn’t know what he was talking about they asked him to leave – repeatedly.

Moses wasn’t going anywhere…
…but to jail.

He needed $200 to get bailed out.
Moses didn’t have any money.

I was assuming that his family thought that jail was the best place for him – for the moment. I say, “for the moment” because it was obvious to me that Moses hasn’t seen the last of a secured institution. Whether it be jail or an asylum, Moses wasn’t too far away.

Moses had been incarcerated for about eight months by the time I got there. Eight months. His family couldn’t (or wouldn’t) come up with $200 for his release. It was the courts that finally decided to release him. They figure eight months was long enough for acting an ass in the Porter County Municipal Building.

Moses Departure

Time passes as time does.
It passes extremely slow when you’re sitting in jail though.

Just when I started to get to know Moses it was time for him to be released. He gathered his few personal items that the Porter County Jail provided for him, crumbled up his blanket, folded his mattress and dragged everything behind him. The inmates would wish him well as he slowly walked by. When he reached the stairs going down he looked at me.

“Thanks for the socks,” he acknowledged loudly.

“No problem,” I answered back.

He continued on down the stairs letting the mattress flop down on each step.

“I’m leaving this motherfucker,” he exclaimed. “Fuck this place!”

I think Moses will back.
If not here – somewhere else then.

[to be continued]
I’m starting to go crazy(ier).

There’s Something in the Backyard

And You’re NOT Going to Believe It

Not a typical night.
Not a typical night at all.

I know this going to sound crazy, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

In the summer of ’89 I had to attend summer school in order to receive my diploma. I was short one English credit.

No big deal, I lived 500′ away from Hammond High’s main entrance. I could wake up 10 minutes before school started and still make it on time.
Which I’ve actually done.

The rules on attendance were very strict. You were not allowed to miss more than two (2) days. If you missed three (3) or more days, you were disqualified from receiving any credit for that class. NO EXCEPTIONS!

Summer Flu

I don’t sick often, but when I do…look out. I feel I’m on the edge of death when I get sick, especially with the flu – but in the summer? Who in the hell gets sick in the summer?

Oh, wait…I do now.

I used to never get sick – especially in the summer.
But of course, when I have to attend summer school, I get sick with a summer flu.
The summer flu…? Am I kidding?sick-29351_1280

I am not.

Thankfully, it started on a Friday night. Because when I awoke Saturday morning I thought I got hit by a truck. This wasn’t a hangover either (even if it was during the BEER HEISTS era)…it was death creeping up on me. I thought I might have had a touch of the stomach flu as well, because when I unloaded – man, I unloaded.

I was losing it out of both ends.
And at the same time too!
Trust me, it’s a disgustingly neat trick.

That Saturday Night

I shouldn’t have drank as much as I did the night before. All day Saturday I felt horrible. I couldn’t keep anything down. I was constantly on the toilet. I was freezing, but yet I was sweating as if I was burning up.
I was alone and I thought that I just entered the beginning stages of death.

I needed medication; some sort of medical attention, but I was clueless. I didn’t know what to do. By late evening, I realized that my dad wasn’t coming home and so I managed to gather enough sense to get off the living room floor and check the medicine cabinet.
But soon realized that we haven’t had anything in the medicine cabinet for quite some time.

I hunted through the kitchen cabinets, looking for anything that could ease my stomach and found nothing. I went for the cabinets above the stove – nothing.

Then something happened. Through the kitchen window I saw something that caught my attention. It moved across the backyard. The backyard light wasn’t on so it was hard to see clearly. It was large, stocky and low to the ground. I immediately thought it was a dog, but then I heard the rattle of the chain-link fence as if someone (or something) was trying to climb over it. Dogs don’t climb fences…do they? I tried to take a closer look, but the backyard was almost in complete darkness.

Whatever it was – it was gone now.

Later That Night

I still had no luck on finding any relief. I felt miserable. I couldn’t eat, drink or sleep. I eventually wandered into the kitchen to take another look in the cabinets. Again, I looked in the cabinets above the stove. Nothing.

I remembered that “thing” or whatever I saw move across the backyard. I moved the curtains even more off to the side and looked in the backyard. I decided to go get a better look through the backdoor.

I walked down the three steps and onto the landing. I unlocked the backdoor and turned on the outside light. I slowly opened the backdoor, being careful not to catch my toes. I stood next to the screen door and scoped out the entire area.

There was the garage, the boat-house, the row boat…then I saw it. The street light in the alley gave the silhouette of what looked like a figure wearing a horned helmet on the garage roof. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like it had a beard too. Before I could make ‘heads-or-tails’ of anything, it was gone. It must have ducked towards the back of the garage roof, becoming completely out of sight.

“What the…?” I said to myself. I thought, “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

I stood quietly and tried to listen for anything out of the ordinary.
But this is East Hammond, out of the ordinary is hard to distinguish.

Whatever it was, there was something definitely on the garage roof. Watching my toes, I quickly closed and locked the backdoor and ran back upstairs. I went to the back bedroom (which I called the “Red, White & Blue Room” for obvious reasons) and looked out the window which faced the backyard. Through this window, I had a better view of the garage roof, which I saw nothing.

Once again, whatever it was – it was gone now.

Sunday Morningcold-156666_1280

I still felt like crap Sunday morning. This was no hangover, I knew then that I was officially sick. I hardly slept because I kept tossing & turning. Not only because I wasn’t feeling well, but the thought of that ‘whatever-it-was’ on the roof really bothered me.

I know I saw a horned helmet.
I just know it.

I laid in bed and watched the sun rise and shine through the sides of the window shades. I finally got out of bed. It was 1 PM.

Yep, I’m sick.

Perfect. And I’ve got summer school the next day. Well, I might as well start the day.

I wore my sweat pants and a Hammond High School sweatshirt. I wandered out of my room and into the kitchen. I looked out the and noticed that the chain-link fence had been damaged. I pulled up my hood and got myself ready to go outside.

As I stood and looked at the fence I saw that something had bent the chain link. It looked as if something heavy and/or strong climbed over the fence bending it all to hell.

My dad was going to be pissed.

Just when I was about to head back inside, I noticed a rather large boot print in the dirt/grass. This boot print (and several others) had tore up the grass as if someone were running through the yard. These prints were as long as mine, but were much wider.

My suspicions that I saw someone on the roof grew stronger.
Something wasn’t right.

Later that evening I spoke to Lisa and Brandy. They happen to be out-and-about with their friend Micky. I told them how sick I was, had nothing to treat it with and that I had school the next day. I wanted them to feel sorry for me – and it worked. They went to the drug store, bought me a BUNCH of stuff.
I didn’t tell them about what was going in the backyard, I figured I’d keep this to myself…for now.

Before bed, I loaded up on some over-the-counter medication and went to bed. My bedroom was at the front of the house, closer to the front yard. I slept with the side window slightly open. The sound coming from the traffic on Calumet Avenue I found soothing.

Not even fifteen (15) minutes in, I heard the chain link fence being rattled.
Once again, it sounded as if someone was trying to climb over it.
I mean, I heard it plain as day. But I just laid there with my eyes open and feeling heavy; listening to the clank and the rustle of the chain link fence. I didn’t care.

That’s because the NyQuil gel-caps I swallowed with a couple of chugs from the NyQuil bottle made it so that I was in no condition to go and investigate.

Good night, NyQuil.

In the END

I never found out what it REALLY was that was running around in the backyard. My dad never said anything about the fence being damaged when he came home a few days later. I wasn’t really sure if I should tell anyone…so I didn’t.

That is – until now.

The War Dwarf

I’ve wanted a war hammer ever since.


We had enough of these small time heists, it's time to go to the BEER SHOW!

Boy, was that stupid.
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent… and the not-so innocent*

For the Love of Beer

The Final Chapter: Welcome to the Brewery

The Motherland of Mother-Loads

Found out we had a beer distributor here in the city.

Columbia Brewery stood on the corner of Kennedy Avenue and 165th Street.
However, it wasn’t a brewery…it was a distributor. It was a depot for ALL beers that would eventually end up on delivery trucks and distributed throughout this part of the Region.beer-428121_1280

And when I mean delivery trucks, I mean BEER delivery trucks.

We’ve been having plenty of experience & success with beer trucks lately; and instead of tracking them down, we decided to go to their “house”.
Fuckin’ brilliant.

The beer trucks were parked in reverse against the building. The garage door that they came out of was on that same exterior wall. The beer trucks would come out of that garage door and then right away backup and park against the building making a neat little row. The driver would leave the keys in the the ignition and the cab unlocked, then go back in the building for another truck. It would take anywhere from 8-12 minutes until the next truck came out and parked.

Timing Meant Everything

We clipped the chain-link fence with bolt cutters and made an opening just big enough to slide through. Once inside the yard, each of us would run and hide in our own little hiding place. We would stay close to the beer trucks – but not that close.

Once we heard the garage door opening we knew to stay low and out-of-sight until we heard the driver get out of the cab and slam the door shut. When we heard that, we would peek out carefully and watch him. He would head back to the building and use the service door to enter. As soon as the door closed behind him we sprang into action.


  • The keys
Getting the keys were very important. Without them, you'd be unable to unlock the doors.

As I said before, the cabs were left open. door-159330_1280
We’d open the doors, grab the keys, unlock the side doors to ALL the trailers and then return the keys back in the ignition.

Now, depending on the time a heist was underway (we were unsure with their schedule), there could be two, three even six beer trucks parked at one time. After unlocking all the trailer doors and returned the keys, we would hide under the trailers using the tires for cover.

I know…crazy, right?

Now we wait.
Any minute now, the garage door will open and another beer truck will drive out and get parked in the row. We would hide under a trailer that was usually somewhere in the middle. Away from the next truck getting parked, but not to close to the garage door (for fear of being seen).

And there it is.

It gets pretty loud and a lot of dust gets kicked up but we all stay perfectly still.

The truck gets backed up until we hear the sound of the air brakes. After a moment, the driver jumps out of the cab and heads back to the building. We get as low to the ground as we can, so we can at least see the drivers legs as he’s walking back.

When he enters the building and the door closes behind him, it’s time for step two.


  • The beer
For the Love of Beer

We’d crawl out from under the trailer and begin to open the trailer doors. We would each grab a door, open it and take something we liked or something that “was-on-order”. We would be quick about it and then stash it under the trailer, close the door and hide once again under the trailer next to the beer.

Now we wait, again.
Any minute now, it’ll be the same routine. The truck gets backed up, the driver gets out and goes in the building.

This was when we would grab the beer and head back towards our slit in the fence. We’d slip out, head back to the waiting and running car and go home. Depending how many people helped out, we may do this two or three more times.

This went on for months.


It was all a matter of time until we ruin a good thing.
Things were going smooth for awhile, but then we messed up.
We started bringing “new” people into the operation.

One night when we showed up, the beer trucks were gone. So instead of canceling the heist, the assholes we brought broke into the brewery itself. They kicked in a panel on the garage door and crawled in.

What could I do?
I crawled in after them.

As soon as I got to my feet, another asshole turned on ALL the lights. It was bright as hell. I was about to say something but what I saw put me in complete awe.

Huge stacks of beer, of every beer, piled high and wrapped in plastic. People started tearing open cases of beer and drinking them right then & there.the-customary-62252_1280

What the hell…?
This isn’t how we do things.

Well, this was last time we pulled anything like this again.
It was fun while it lasted.


Of course, we all eventually got busted.


Rumor has it that somebody tried pulling this heist by themselves (or with a small crew) and got busted on their very first attempt.

“Bark” Meeden, with possibly a small crew of absent-minded minions, made a slit in the fence and got caught right away crossing the yard. They were pursued which caught them off guard. Especially, “Bark” Meeden, who was eventually caught hiding up in a tree.





For the Love of Beer

Shit Starting & Shenanigans

Nearly Busted!


The McDonald Brothers

I’ve known a lot of brothers.
Hung out with a lot of them too.
In fact, the younger McDonald brother was with me during the first beer heist in Calumet City, Illinois. He played a small role for those shenanigans (pretty much just went along for the ride).

The following week -once again, I’m skipping school with three of my friends. This time I’m with the McDonald brothers and another friend who we nicknamed, ‘Dougie-Flesh’.

We were coasting down Ridge Road in Munster, Indiana when the younger McDonald brought up how he and I took a Guinness keg out of a beer truck.

“You guys did what?” Dougie Flesh asked.

This gave me an idea.

Region Rats

Region Rats

“Wanna do it again?” I asked.

The younger McDonald looked at his older brother who was driving the green 1979 GTO. He was looking for a reaction. The older McDonald just looked at me through the rear view mirror to see if I was serious or just talking out of my ass. There was a quick moment of silence – everybody was waiting for somebody else, anybody else, to say something… like “Let’s not do this”… but nobody said a word.

I guess that’s green for a go.

I then said, “Let’s drive by Santori’s Liquors.”

Scout it Out, First

Santori’s Liquors was on Ridge Road but in Lansing, Illinois, just south of Calumet City, Illinois. I realized it was about the same time as before when the younger McDonald and I hit that beer truck the week before. Chances of a delivery truck being at that liquor store were like “slim & none”, so we weren’t expecting to see anything.

And we didn’t… not a Santori’s Liquors.
We did, however, spot a beer delivery truck at Cardinal Liquors which was just a little further down Ridge Road. Not only was there a beer truck there, but there were three stacks of ten cases of beer just sitting there on the sidewalk.

“Hurry up and park,” I quickly ordered the older McDonald brother.

“This is it,” I said.

Just then the delivery driver came out and grabbed one of the stacks of beer with his dolly cart and wheeled it back inside. I hit the younger McDonald brother as I exited the GTO.

“C’mon, let’s do this.”

“No way, I’m not going. It’s broad daylight. People will see,” the younger McDonald explained.

“I’ll go,” Dougie-Flesh interrupted.

“You sure?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The delivery driver came out for the second stack of beer. There was one stack left.

“It’s now or never,” I warned. “He’ll be back out in a few… we got to go now.”

As soon as the delivery driver walked into the liquor store we exited the car and straight for the stack of beer. The McDonald brothers decided to drive down a side street that was next to the liquor store. We were each to grab one case of beer and take off for the GTO…just ONE case each. That was the plan. Easy, simple, however… there was a “wrench it the works“. It seems we didn’t see the old lady who was in her car and parked right next to the stack of beer.

As the two of us got closer to the stack of beer we began walking faster, and faster, until it was an all-out sprint. I ran up to the stack of beer and grabbed the top one and took off. The next thing I heard was a car horn blaring away.

The horn scared the shit out of me. While I was running, I managed to turn around and saw that Dougie-Flesh had TWO cases of beer. That old lady who was parked next to the stack of beer was trying to bring attention to us. She just laid on that horn.

I turned back around and started looking for the GTO. I spotted it just a little ways up. As I ran up to it, the younger McDonald opened his passenger door and told me to toss him the beer. I did and jumped in right after it and the door closed behind me.

Now…where’s Dougie-Flesh?

There he is.

He’s way back there.man-46569_1280

“You better slow down,” I said calmly to the older McDonald.
The sound of the lady’s car horn could still be heard in the distance.

“We gotta go!” the older McDonald announced.

I crawled out the window so Dougie-Flesh could clearly see me.

“C’mon, Dougie!” I shouted with encouragement.

I could barely hear Dougie’s words… but I think he said, ‘Stop the fucking car.’

I leaned in and told the older McDonald, “I think he said to stop the car.”

He surprisingly said, “No way.”

“At least slow down,” the younger McDonald spoke up.

The GTO slowed down, but it still took a bit more effort on Dougie-Flesh’s part.
A few moments later, Dougie Flesh finally caught up.
You could hear him clear as day.

“Stop…the fucking… car!” Dougie Flesh huffed loudly, “Now!”

The younger McDonald squeezed through the window next to me and extended his arms out, “Throw me the beer!”

I was a little shocked that we weren’t stopping and all we want now is for Dougie-Flesh to throw us the beer.
We’re assholes.

It’s like, ‘Fuck you! Throw us the beer first, then we’ll worry about you later!’

“Stop… the fucking… car… please,” Dougie-Flesh pleaded.

“Throw me the beer first!”

I couldn’t believe this was happening.
We’re driving down a neighborhood street; going just the right amount of speed to as to where Dougie-Flesh can barely keep up; who is holding two cases of beer screaming at us to stop the car.

Move along folks, nothing to see here.

“I’ll grab your hands when to toss him the beer,” I instructed Dougie-Flesh.

Dougie-Flesh tossed the two cases to the younger McDonald and shouted out to have us just open the passenger door.
Fuck that hand grabbing shit!

The passenger door opened and Dougie-Flesh reached for the head rest. He clamped down on it like a vise grip and pulled himself into the GTO.

Dougie-Flesh slammed into the back seat and we took off for Indiana.

Mission Accomplished

Dougie-Flesh pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

“When I’m done with this cigarette, I’m kicking all your asses.”



For the Love of Beer

Shit Starting & Shenanigans

The Great Guinness Keg Caper


Have you ever tasted Guinness?

Guinness beer has an acquired taste
…to say the least!

Anyway, so three friends of mine and I decided to skip school and do…whatever. Pretty much nothing. Instead of attending classes at Hammond High, we decided to go drive around in Calumet City, Illinois.

As we drove along River Oaks Drive, we passed by the beloved Shakey’s Pizza. It was still rather early so we didn’t expect it to be open – and it wasn’t. However, there was a beer truck in the parking lot making a delivery.

I noticed that the cab was empty, meaning the delivery driver was inside. I asked to drive around to take another look.
Sure enough, the cab was empty and there came the delivery driver with his dolly cart.

The delivery driver opened up the side door of his box truck grabbed and stacked about ten cases of Lite beer before hauling them back inside.

“Park right here,” I ordered.

“Why…?” all three of my friends asked.

“Because I’m about to get us some beer.”

“I’ll go with ya,” the biggest of three said.



The beer truck

Playing it by Ear

There was no plan, but we were confident as hell that we were going to get away with this.

We thought we looked so suave as we stepped out of the Chevette. It was like a scene from a movie. Definitely a comedy.

The two of us strolled up to the back of the box truck. We took one last look around, then I unlatched the huge back door. There stood stacks of kegs. Each placed in a bin about four high.

I grabbed for one and pulled it. I figured it’d be heavy so I gave a good yank. I practically fell over. The keg was empty. They were all empty!

“This is crap,” I exclaimed and began to climb the stack of empty kegs.

“What are you doing?” my friend asked. “Let’s go!”

“Not without a keg.”

I peeked over the empty kegs and saw a bunch of FULL kegs.

“Here they are!”

I jumped over and knocked over a stack of empty kegs. It made a whole lot of noise. I grabbed the first keg I saw. I lifted that heavy son-of-a-bitch over the remaining empties to hand it off to my waiting friend. The problem was – he wasn’t waiting. He already started walking back to the Chevette. When he heard that crash he figured the jig was up.


The beer keg

“Hey…what’s up, dude?” I shouted out.

He turned around and headed back towards me with a quick pace. He looked as though he couldn’t believe we were still going through with it.

I lowered the keg down and saw my friend place it on his shoulder and run with it.

Yes, run with it.

Now some of you may not understand why I find it incredible, but if you’ve ever lifted a FULL keg of beer before you know how heavy these things are.

As he took off, I continued to scale down one of the stacks of empty kegs, using the top of the opened truck door as leverage. Suddenly, another stack of empty kegs fell inside the box truck causing me to lose my balance. I held on to the top of the door, but it suddenly swung open leaving me hanging 15′ in the air!

I just let go.
I dropped to the pavement, got up and ran for the Chevette. The keg was already in the back seat, so I crammed in and we took off.

Mission Accomplished

When we drove away we decided to see what beer keg I swiped.

Guinness…? What’s that?
Never heard of it.

We called the liquor store when we got back to price the Guinness keg.

“$159.00, not including the deposit. Total will be $169.00,” the clerk said over the phone.

$159.00 for a keg of Guinness…? This stuff must be great!

We were never able to tap that keg. We couldn’t find a tapper that fit.
Go figure.

Days later, after the beer warmed up good & plenty, we were finally able to rip the top off. We tipped the entire keg into empty mugs, bottles, bowls, pots…anything that would hold liquid. Tipping the keg and pouring out was a pain-in-the-ass!

Oh. My. God.
This shit sucks.



2014 in review

Posted: January 5, 2015 in Getting FREE Stuff

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 8,800 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

That’s right!
It seems more & more states & cities are joining in with this INHUMANE law that forbids anyone from feeding the homeless.

This is NOT a joke…THIS IS FOR REAL!
This is what the United States has lowered itself to.

But hey…the US will continue to send money to other countries.
These local governments are bringing down our federal government even further.

It is Against the Law to Feed the Homeless

Cities & States are NOW making it Illegal to Feed the Hungry

Shame, shame, SHAME on you!


Arnold Abbott, 90, was arrested in Fort Lauderdale, FL for feeding the hungry

First off, let me explain something real quick…we’re dealing with assholes.

A message to those arresting FORT LAUDERDALE police officers who detained 90-year-old, Arnold Abbott, and two ministers for feeding the homeless:

You’re assholes, but you may already know that.
You can shrug your shoulders and tell us that “you’re only doing your job” all you want, fact is (and you know it), you’re a bunch of assholes.

The look on all of your faces (to me, anyway) was nothing but sadness & fear.

  • SAD because you knew what you were doing was wrong
  • FEAR because you’re surrounded by a crowd of hungry people

How does it feel? Really?
Why the hesitation to give us your names then if you believe what you were doing was the “right” thing?
[Watch the VIDEO here]

Those were rhetorical questions…no need to answer.
Everybody knows why – even you.

I believe it goes much deeper.

Here’s What I Believe

It has to do with “illegal immigrants”.

David Jennings and Barrack Obama seem to think that the ONLY “humane thing” to do about controlling illegal aliens is to allow them to get to where they want to go.

“When you have a noncriminal [border-crossing ] mother, they are going to be released,” David Jennings, the head of the Immigrations and Customs Enforcement agency in southern California. “The most humane way to deal with this is to find out where they are going and get them there,” he said at a town meeting held in Murrieta, Calif., according to the New York Times.

~The Daily Caller~

Politicians are using the police as a patsy

The whole world was watching as you put the handcuffs on WWII Veteran, Mr. Arnold Abbott, along with two ministers.
How does that make you feel?
We can only imagine. What would Jesus do?

Arnold Abbott isn’t finished, he’s going to continue to help the helpless, feed the hungry & protect the innocent…yeah, let Mr. Arnold Abbott do the job the politicians swore to do before taking office.

Are there any REAL criminals in Fort Lauderdale? How can Fort Lauderdale afford to send police officers to enforce such  a “bullshit law“? These politicians are making these police officers look like cowardly assholes.

Really…you guys are a bunch of cowardly assholes.
Can you NOT stand up & speak for what is right?

P.S. Do you all get your haircut at the same place?

FLORIDA: Mother Charged With Felony For Letting Son Walk To Park

Can you believe this? This really happened.
In Port St. Lucie, Florida, an officer felt the need to arrest Nicole Gainey for allowing her son to walk to a park.FLORIDA

That’s correct.

With the exception of Illinois and Maryland, there is no specific age that states when a child is allowed to “walk to the park” alone. State officials in the remaining 48 states leave that decision to the parent(s) or caregiver.

“…parents must decide on a case-by-case basis what is best for their child.”

In other words…use “common sense”.

Unfortunately, common sense isn’t so common, and being stupid isn’t against the law.

The Reason for the Arrest

It’s been reported that the reasoning behind Nicole Gainey’s arrest was for child endangerment.
You see, the officer picked up 7-year-old, Dominic Guerrisi, from Sportman’s Park, which to the Port St. Lucie, Florida, police department is nothing more than a common hangout for pedophiles. Nicole Gainey (Dominic’s mother) should have known this being that it’s only a half-mile away from her home. The officer drove Dominic Guerrissi home, only to arrest his mother, Nicole Gainey, soon after she opened the door.

On his way to Sportman’s Park, Dominic Guerrissi decided to swing by the local public pool. It was there when people (adults) approached Dominic and asking question after question:
“Where’s your parents?”
“Where you going?”
“Where do you live?”

Dominic decided to leave. He took off running and continued on his way to Sportman’s Park.

Dominic said that he got scared with all the questions and that was reason he took off. Dominic has a cell phone, and although he didn’t feel it was necessary to call and inform his mother of what just happened, the people at the public pool thought it was necessary enough to call the authorities.

There’s no doubt that Nicole Gainey will beat the charges, but until further notice, Dominic Guerrissi will be accompanied by his mother when at the park from now on.

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This really sucks. My first night here and I have to sleep with one eye open. Thank God I kept my pen under my pillow. I slept on my stomach and kept my hands underneath the pillow, clutching my pen as if it were a knife with my right hand. I told myself that I wasn’t going to fall asleep… but I did. [continued from July 23, 2014]

My Main Man Moses

As I laid on the top bunk, trying desperately to stay awake, I suddenly heard this loud slapping noise – over & over again. I looked to see where it was coming from and saw Moses slapping the shit out of himself. What the hell? I looked down at Joe (beneath Moses), who, half asleep popped his head up. I looked at Joe with a confused look on my face. He just shrugged his shoulders at me and laid his head back down. I slowly laid my head back down also. “Welcome to Cell Pod “C”,” I heard “D” say to me from the bottom rack. He must have heard it too and knew I was awake. For the rest of the night, I had no problem staying awake, unlike Moses who fell back asleep (or at least look like he was). I began to wonder:

  • What was this guy in for?
  • How often does he slap himself?
  • Is there anything else I should know?

These were questions I wanted answered and I wanted to know Moses story… or do I?

The Next Morning

I laid there until a correctional officer turned on the lights early next morning. I looked over at Moses (being half awake) and saw that he was fast asleep. I wondered if he left a mark on his face, but unfortunately he happened to be laying on the side of his face he was slapping the shit out of. prison-370534_640

A nurse accompanied a correctional officer this one morning to dispense medications to the inmates. A line was formed in the common area then the nurse began to call out names to those who needed medication.

An old black man remained in his rack until his name was called. The nurse had to wait for him make his way across the common area.

“Johnson,” the correctional officer called out, “after your medication remain seated in the common area until the nurse finishes distributing medications.”

The old man looked confused.

“Orson,” the nurse called out. “Orson?” she asked a moment later.

“Here!” a voice yelled out from the top tier. It was a small skinny white guy. Couldn’t have been older than 21.

“Why didn’t you come down?” the correctional officer asked.

“I didn’t hear,” Orson replied as he walked down from the top tier.

“Didn’t hear? Didn’t hear?” the correctional officer sounded a bit agitated. “Don’t you receive medication every morning?”

“Yes,” Orson said as he walked towards the nurse.

“Haven’t you received medication every morning since you’ve been here?” the correctional officer started to turn red in the face.


“Then why is it, every morning we have to wait on you?”

No answer was given.

“That’s what I thought,” the officers tone changed and started to sound like a smart-ass. “Grab a seat next to Mr. Johnson after you’ve taken your medication.”

Orson takes his medication and sits down next to Johnson at a table.

While all this drama was going on, I didn’t notice that Moses had sat up. He was at the foot of his rack with his legs dangling off the end. He just sat there towards the wall looking down at his hands that laid in his lap. He looked distant.
And when I say “distant” – I mean totally insane.

I tried to see if Moses left a mark on his face but the correctional officer broke my train of thought by yelling.

“From now on,” the correctional officer bellowed, “if you take medications in the morning and you’re not down here by the time a nurse opens this cell door, you’ll be going where Mr. Johnson & Mr. Orson are headed. Cell Pod “F”… any questions?”

It got dead quiet. The only sound you heard was the nurse packing up her cart.

“Good!” the correctional officer continued. “From now on, this is law! Any questions?”

The nurse wheeled her cart out. You could hear the squeak from one of its wheels, but still, nobody said a word.


You could tell the correctional officer was getting sarcastic. He turned and faced Orson & Johnson.

“You two,” the correctional announced as he pointed to the two inmates. “Grab your mattress and follow me.”

Orson and Johnson started to stand up.

“Let’s go!” the correctional officer screamed.

Orson got so startled that he tripped & fell, but immediately ran up to the top tier, ripped his mattress from his rack and started to run back.

“Don’t run, man,” an inmate said as Orson ran past him. “Fuck that mother-fucker.”

“He got that white-boy all shook up…don’t he, Joe?” I heard “D” say coming from beneath me.

“Got that right,” Joe said back. I don’t even think Joe was really paying attention.

I remembered about Moses and decided to take a quick glance at him. He was looking at me, but his body was still facing towards the back wall. Just his head was turned. His mouth was slightly open and with his head tilted down but his eyes up staring at me just freaked me out.

I quickly broke eye contact.

“Holy shit,” I thought to myself. I went back to watching the correctional officer exit the cell pod. From my peripheral vision, I watched Moses as he jumped down from his rack. I just laid there looking straight ahead, watching his every move.

He threw a towel over his shoulder and grabbed a white mesh bag full of toiletries. He walked towards the railing and stood in the walkway. He was now standing right in front of me.

All of a sudden, he stretched out his arms with the white mesh bag still in hand and he started singing.


Oh. My. God.

And he was good too!

[to be continued]

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