Remembrance - May 28th

 

I copied this post from 2022 to the top for the obvious reason. 

**SAY HER NAME**

Cassidy J. Wofford

July 5, 1988 to May 28, 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Obituary Link

I met this young lady on an EMS call a couple of years before her tragic death by suicide. That call was a suicide attempt where she had laid down in the middle of a back country road hoping someone would just run her over. An alert motorist saw her and called 911. I will not go into any of the details other than this; when we arrived at the hospital and I opened the doors to get the stretcher out, she was sitting on the stretcher facing me rocking back and forth, sucking her thumb, and weeping. As a Dad of a daughter myself, it absolutely broke my heart to see such a pathetic creature. To this day, my "bug-a-boo" ambulance call is what I call "the sad little girl." 12-23 years old, crying her eyes out, covered in cutter scars, sometimes telling tales of abuse; mental, physical, sexual, and probably being transported against her will by law enforcement for wanting to harm herself. My career and volunteer partners know this, and depending on the severity of the call will offer to tech it. I am getting better at handling these calls myself, but I think of Cassidy on every one.

From her clothing, she may have been a 1st Responder

One heckuva fish!

Proof she did have happy times in her short life

I had heard things about her life that if true, she had it rough, and those circumstances would drive anyone to the brink. I wish I could somehow turn back time and maybe do something more to prevent the final outcome. If you or someone you know is in crisis, PLEASE reach out for help to the Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Each year I do a benefit motorcycle ride called "Ride For Gage" that benefits the Jordan Porco Foundation for suicide prevention in September. I also see more than my share of successful suicides, and doing the death presumptions while the family is nearby SUCKS!

As a side note, the call involving Cassidy actually disturbed the other technicians, too. I was just the driver, but the other two were in the back doing patient care. In a casual conversation a few months later the subject of this call came up. Both guys said how it bothered them too, and how we probably should have talked earlier and gotten Critical Incident counseling as a group. Both of them are no longer in EMS, so they probably don't think about it any more.

Rest In Peace, Cassidy. Because I will never forget you.

A Man's Stay-cation

Last week, I was supposed to join my wife, adult daughter, and several of my daughter's friends on  her 40th birthday celebration in Florida at the house of the mouse. The two main reasons I chose NOT to go are; #1) I am on a self-imposed commercial "NO FLY LIST" meaning I refuse to fly commercial anywhere. This way I avoid having to be disarmed, the TSA Kabuki theater bullshit, and any of the "wild animals" acting out in airports or on airplanes. I have seen Europe twice and don't care to go back, and anywhere I desire to go here in the states I will drive to. The single exception is if my father-in-law passes and I need to go to Florida with my wife and her family. #2) I refuse to give one red cent to that woke mess called Disney. I made all this abundantly clear to my wife and daughter months before they went and they felt it was my loss. Oh how wrong they were. Until that corporation returns to its non-woke, family oriented content and environment I will never return. I cashed in two 24 hour PTO days from last year to pay for my time off and still have 12 hours left over. My last shift ended at 06:00 AM on April 11th, and today is my first day back. Nine glorious days off, including not attending two training sessions which I will probably hear about, but TPTB are not going to like my response to. It's called a fucking vacation and that means you don't see me until I come back to work!

On the 11th I helped my wife get ready and did stuff around the house. My daughter stayed over at our place so we could leave early. We left at 06:15 AM to drive to Logan Airport Saturday morning the 12th. What an absolute shitshow ride that was. Cold temperatures, heavy snow, and no roads treated or plowed. We thought the MA Turnpike would be better, but oh no, it was far worse. And the heavy wet snow was accumulating on the asphalt and freezing. Not until we got to about Framingham did conditions improve, and luckily any of the accidents we passed were minor spin outs. By the time we got to Boston it was as if the bad weather behind us was nonexistent. I got them to the airport on time and quickly got the hell out of there. The ride home was easy-peasy, because by that time roads were clear and wet and the snow was gone. Time to start my stay-cation! I had to take care of my normal weekend chores except laundry which got done the day before.

The next few days were me doing some of my favorite things and eating meals I like. Sunday I went to the range. I usually only go during the week when I have the place to myself. A couple of guys came over after Trap to each fire a few handgun rounds and then left. I was now by myself for testing some subsonic .22LR ammo I bought from an estate sale. I tried some in a semi-auto rifle and pistol. It would not cycle in either one so I ran it manually. Accuracy was fine so it should be good for pesky chipmunks out of my bolt action .22 rifle. I then put a few cylinders through my 1935 vintage S&W K-22 Outdoorsman. Of course it functioned just fine and I repeatedly dinged the hanging steel plates at 25 yards. Next up, my US Patriot 1775 home built sniper rifle. Originally a 1939 Soviet Mosin-Nagant 91/30 from the Izhevsk Armory, this reformed Commie now serves to support and defend The United States and The Constitution against ALL ENEMIES, FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC. Targets of opportunity from a far away hidey hole, don'cha know.

This rifle fires my precision measured and loaded ammunition with PPU 7.62x45r fire formed brass to this rifle's chamber that is neck sized only. The bullet is a 174 gr Sierra Matchking BTHP in .311" diameter. Some rifles are .308" but most of the Russian ones are .311" I slugged mine to find out. Accuracy with .308 factory ammo is less then satisfactory for obvious reasons. The powder is 45 grains of Hogdgon Varget. The primer is Winchester Large Rifle. I measured the chamber length and have the bullet seated 0.005" off the lands. Chronographed muzzle velocity is 2580 fps. Accuracy is better than I can make it shoot. More practice would definitely help for sure. That and a trip to the eye doctor for some new glasses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking downrange to 200 yards

 

200 yard backstop circled in yellow

17" spatter target with added 2" bullseye

 

A closer view. I'll try again after a visit to the eye doctor

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I started by verifying zero at 100 yards and it was dead on. Next out to the range maximum of 200 yards. After some windage adjustment, controlling my breathing, and waiting for my heart rate to slow so I could time my shot between beats, shot #5 was as close as I was probably gonna get. Definitely close enough for my purposes. I then proceeded to hit the 12" gong and then the smaller 6" gong I had stood up on its side on some timbers on the ground. It makes a really loud "THOK!" sound when hit. After 3 shots at the smaller gong it fell over. I decided to see if I could hit it lying on the side.

On its side with 3 fresh shiny shot marks

 

 

Exactly where I was aiming. Perfect!

 

I went down range to pickup my targets and then back to the firing line to pack up for home. I headed home to secure all my firearms and ammo, and have some lunch. The plan was to go fishing early evening to dark so I got my fishing gear in shape. Later, I headed to my club pond a little before 6 PM and was met by my neighbor and his 9 year old grandson. The grandson was pretty rambunctious splashing a stick in the water and then hooking my rod when he tried to cast. No biggie, I caught a nice largemouth bass anyway and then I moved to the left of them near the pond outlet and deeper water where I promptly caught another smaller largemouth. Every evening except Wednesday (too cold and windy) I returned to the club pond and had great success with both bass and trout, landing a decent 14" Rainbow Trout on Thursday. Since all my tackle has the barbs crimped, catch and release is easy and not hard on the fish. They all swam away quickly. I went home at dark to feed the dogs and watch a streaming movie (I don't remember what I watched) but it was definitely something my wife would not care for.

Monday was supposed to be the warmest day of the week with highs in the 70's, so late morning I headed out on The Beast for the Kommiecticut shoreline, specifically Niantic and Skipper's Seafood on RT. 156. It was more crowded than usual since the kids were out of school for spring break. But since I had nothing but time I had no problem waiting to order, then waiting for my food. $22.54 for a fish sandwich with onion rings and a bottle of soda was a little expensive, but man was it good and screaming hot. Their onion rings are lightly battered and sliced very thin like shoestring french fries. I thought I might stop for ice cream on the way home but I was too full. I got home and decided to play some guitar before heading out for an evening of fishing. The 1946 vintage case is in pretty good shape, but the old leather handle was falling apart and I really didn't want it to break making me drop it. I found a Gibson style excellent replacement handle on eBay and ordered it for $29 plus tax. The new handle arrived on Thursday and fit my old case perfectly.

What's left of the original handle. It went in the trash.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The new handle installed on the original hardware. Nicely made

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Other than fishing on Tuesday evening, I don't recall what I did all of Tuesday and Wednesday during the day. I do know Tuesday afternoon I took my little poodle girl for a walk around the town park and then along the river on the linear trail. We had the place to ourselves and she got to have some quality alone time with Daddy. 

 

Wednesday was in the 40's and very windy. I am surprised I didn't lose power. Thursday I rotated out my snow removal equipment for my lawn upkeep equipment. The lawnmower and weed whacker got fueled up and started on the first couple of pulls as usual. The snowblower got a fresh oil change and then the fuel tank drained after I drove it down to the barn. I pulled all of my wicker porch furniture from the back of the barn. The snowblower then went to the back of the barn with the snow shovels. I had backed my truck and trailer down to the barn to load all the furniture to bring up to the front porch in one shot. I was outside all day and then back out in the evening for fishing until dark. The fishing action every night has been great. Friday morning after breakfast I took a trip to BJ's for a restock in anticipation of my wife's return. I am also in the process of rotating out all of my generator gas storage from last spring, so I picked up 25 gallons in my Jerry cans and then topped off my truck. That leaves five more Jerry cans to dump in our vehicles to burn up and then refill. This gives me a total of 70 gallons of gas on hand which this time of year could have my generator run about 10 days at full power. 20 days if I was to run conservatively and even longer if I siphon some out of my vehicles. I would only do this if I was unable to buy gas because of a regional outage due to large scale system damage. Luckily that has never happened. After going to BJ's I came home and put everything away and made some lunch. After lunch it was out for another cruise on The Beast. I only went about 50 miles, but 50 miles of wind therapy will do anyone some good. I went home, had some supper, and then out fishing for the evening until dark.

Saturday evening I was to return to Logan to get the wife, so I wanted to make sure I managed my time during the day properly. A week earlier we went to Boston in snow. Saturday the 19th it was predicted to be 85. My club had our big spring cleanup work party in anticipation for our two big fishing events and our big summertime fundraiser event. I worked from 08:00 to about 11:00 on the pond detail. I figured since I have been doing so much fishing I would concentrate my efforts there. After that the weekly trip to the dump, home for lunch, and then some guitar time sitting out on my front porch entertaining the birds and squirrels. My wife and I had dinner plans for on the way home, so I needed to shower and put on some clean duds. Her flight was due to land at 6:06 PM, so I left at 4:00 PM in case of unexpected traffic to Boston.

I decided that since I would have to sit in a cell phone lot for an unknown amount of time and then have to hit a rest area on the way home, I would have to play my game of "Felon-Not A Felon" by carrying my EDC into the Republik of Massachusetts without their "permission slip." As I cross the imaginary line at the state border where I magically transform into a felon and then back again, I call out "Felon-Not A Felon!" Because of the warm weather I was wearing cargo shorts and carrying my S&W 45 Shield in a DeSantis pocket holster in my right thigh pocket, a spare mag in my left thigh pocket, and as usual my SOG Instinct blade horizontally at 11 o'clock. Traffic was non existent and I arrived at the cell phone lot at Logan Airport at 5:15 PM. There is a sign in the lot with all the "rules"... no unattended vehicles, no idling over 5 minutes, 30 minute maximum wait time. Wait, WHAT? It's over 80 miles to Logan from my house, how the fuck am I supposed to know what traffic will be or if her flight is on time? Well, I decided to see just how that gets enforced. If necessary I would just circle the airport and then return to the lot if I got kicked out. Certainly don't want any trouble with "authorities" while carrying. It turns out, no one enforced anything, so I sat and waited listening to streaming music. The flight was on time and my wife called me saying that she and my daughter would be waiting curbside for pickup. Aw man... my daughter was supposed to have a friend pick her up. There goes a nice dinner with my wife because going out to dinner with my daughter (the vegan freak) is beyond tedious, so I normally avoid it. I got to their location in just a few minutes, loaded their luggage, and headed for the airport exit and the Mass Pike. After drinking a bottle of water and sitting for so long in the cell lot, I needed to hit the first rest area in Framingham heading westbound. We arrived at the rest area and all went in because my wife and daughter wanted drinks, I went straight to the Men's room. While at the urinal doing my part to recycle, in walks a MA State Trooper and goes to the urinal more than the appropriate anti-gay distance away. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, but he pays me no mind as he has probably been on the road for a couple of hours and just wants to relieve himself. I finished first and walked behind him to get to the sink to wash my hands. He heads for the sink as I am exiting the restroom. As I am walking across the main concourse of the rest area I see him come out and then head into the convenience store. Never saw him again, but man if he only knew. The advantage of concealed carry. The girls got their drinks and we got back on the road.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful. We hit a heavy rainstorm west of Worcester and down I -84 which was good because it washed most of the salt off my wife's car from the previous ride to Boston. When we hit the Kommiecticut state line I said quietly "Felon-Not A Felon" and my wife asked "what did you just say?" to which I replied nothing, just mumbling to myself. When we got closer to home we came out of the rain and as we came down the home stretch on the main road everything was completely dry.

My wife and daughter and her friends had a great time. Not the kind of fun I would care for. And they got to see The Old Man (my wife's father) while they were there. He will be up for the summer next month and we hang out on my days off.

Brought Back Memories

Yesterday morning I did a Patriot Guard mission at the CT Air National Guard base in East Granby. It was a send off for the 103rd Airlift Wing on a deployment. The PGR was there to stand a flag line. There were about a dozen of us and although there was media present, none of the local outlets have posted a story. Here is a link to the media advisory from the 103d and below is an excerpt about their mission:

The Guardsmen will provide logistical, mechanical, and mission support to forces deployed within various global combatant commands supporting of Operations Spartan Shield, Inherent Resolve, and Enduring Freedom – Horn of Africa.

They regularly fly their C-130s over my house at low altitude every couple of days heading east out towards Cape Cod and I assume Otis AFB. Later the same day they fly heading west back to Bradley. Occasionally they'll fly contour at maybe 500 feet. Some people in town are frightened or annoyed by it and complain, but I think it is way cool! In fact, so many military aircraft fly over my house I believe my house is a navigation waypoint. In addition to the C-130's, I get pairs of F-15's, UH-60 Blackhawks, CH-47 Chonooks, and the occasional C-5 Galaxy, OV-22 Osprey, or CH-53 Sea Stallion directly overhead. Sometimes it's like my own private airshow. 

I had to work until my FD shift ended at 06:00. I thankfully got out on time, went home to clean my chicken coop, shower and change clothes, grabbed a breakfast sandwich and coffee, and made the less than 1 hour ride to the air base. I did not ride "The Beast" because my driveway went from a frozen glacier to a mud hole suitable for 4x4 races. At this point it will be weeks before "The Beast" comes out of hibernation.

The ceremony was held inside a closed pristine hangar on the base. That required me to give my drivers license info to the PGR State Captain to be forwarded to base security for a background check. Last time I did one of these we had to park outside and walk in, but this time we drove on base and parked in the hangar lot. This also required me to be totally unarmed, because we were actually going on base and would be subject to search at any time. I had to choose between doing this mission unarmed, not doing the mission at all, or taking a chance. I chose to do the mission and not take the chance so as not to reflect badly on the PGR by potentially getting arrested with a firearm, therefore honoring those that deserve my presence. I made sure I went straight there and straight home so as not to regret my decision to be unarmed.

Driving on base brought me back to my days in the military many years before 9/11. Back then, all I had was a DoD decal on the left side top of my front bumper. If the sticker was not expired and I was in uniform, I just slowed down enough for the SP to see it and waved through. If I was in civvies, I would have to stop and hand the SP my ID. If your sticker was expired, you would have to produce your ID and then report to the base security station to get a new decal. On weekends when we Reservists were there, there was a back gate with one SP manning it we could go in and out of. It was even pretty easy for civilian visitors to go in with a brief check at the gate or an escort. There were no physical barriers other than the chain link fence gate that was always open. No zig-zag roads, pop-up barriers, or other post 9/11 modern base security measures. Yesterday, they held us in a special lane until everyone was there. The State Captain verified the list with the SP and we were let in. There were plenty of SP personnel to guide us to the parking area. The ANG personnel in the parking lot was disappointed none of us rode in on motorcycles. They were hoping for a "Rolling Thunder" optic of our arrival. Sorry, not this time of year. We grabbed our flags and headed in to the hangar.

You could truly eat off the floor in that hangar. There were two portable bleacher units brought in for spectators set up at a 45 degree angle to the stage and chairs in front of the one on the right for brass and dignitaries. The open area in front of the stage were for the formation of those being deployed. There was a 4 piece military brass ensemble playing Sousa march and patriotic tunes. We all hit the restroom, assembled our flags, and lined up to the right of the stage. After we lined up, many National Guard brass and dignitaries went down the line to shake our hands and thank us for being there. The first one through as usual was someone I have met a few times before, Major General Francis Evon. He is the Commanding Officer of the entire CT National Guard, a soldier's soldier and a real down to earth guy, starting his military career as an enlisted man. Then several other ANG officers came through. The local state representative came through the line. Then.... I had to suck it up and do my duty to the PGR, because here came US Senator Richard "Da Nang Dickie" Blumenthal; Mr. Stolen Valor himself. If I had been there on my own, I would have waited until he approached me and turned my back on him. But since I was there with the PGR, I did not want to mar the reputation of the PGR. I shook his hand and when he thanked me for being there, I just gave him the stock PGR response of "It's our honor." I don't know of any health problems he may have, but he seems to have become a shrunken little man. He reminds me of a toddler, whose head is too big for his body.

While we waited lined up and looking good, they called for formation. I chuckled to myself, remembering have to assemble for my own daily morning formation in the drill hall so many years ago. It was usually called by SSG Ed Demetrion, but when he wasn't there it was up to SFC Gomez. That was always fucking hilarious. SFC Gomez was a naturalized US citizen from Colombia and he had a heavy Spanish accent and he was also quite the comedian. He would walk down the hall of the Reserve Center repeatedly yelling, "OK, OK, for-may-shon in de drill hall! Le's go, Le's go! Get een for-may-shon!! NO ES-MOH-KINK!" He knew damn well how funny he sounded to us young gringos, and it was even more funny while he tried to emulate a tough Drill Sargent to get us lined up and squared away.

It has been quite a while since I have been around that many active duty personnel. Some of those females, young and older, both enlisted and officers were quite fetching. We used to call them "Split Tails." Of course since this was the Air National Guard, it is the Air Force, and to me always seemed to attract more females than the other branches.

The ceremony only lasted about a half hour. They posted the colors and the brass ensemble struck up The National Anthem. A military Chaplain did an invocation. There were several speeches, and first up was General Evon. After him was the unit Commander. Then the politicians.... blah, blah, blah. Luckily with my poor hearing, the loudspeakers facing away, and the poor acoustics of the hangar, they all sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher. I did catch Da Nang Dickie complaining of defense budget cuts, spinning the waste, fraud, and abuse DOGE has been eliminating into political gibberish and propaganda. Fuck that piece of shit, gaslighting the young skulls full of mush in the process of being deployed. They then held a promotion ceremony for a few airmen, as well as service awards for others. The Chaplain went back on stage to deliver a benediction and the ceremony was over. The troops were dismissed and the PGR was called to stand down. We disassembled our flags and walked out single file to the lot. The ride home was uneventful and I continued with my weekend chores and errands.

Later in the day, my wife and I went out for dinner at a restaurant we haven't eaten at in over 20 years. The Traveler Restaurant off I-84 in Union, famous for their roasted turkey dinner and a free book with dinner. That's right, a full free library as well as some books, puzzles, games, and greeting cards for sale. The last time I remember eating there was on the way back from Maine when we would go to the State Fair in Skowhegan back in the 1990's. I wasn't going to take a book because I am behind in my reading already, until my wife showed me this:

I bought it for $4.50 to keep at the firehouse. A non-woke children's book from 2010 with large print and cool illustrations where the "kids" are different little animals. A couple of pages were ripped but I taped them as good as new. Sometimes little kids come to the firehouse to visit, but when they get there they are shy and want to hide behind their parents. My plan is to read to the younger ones when they visit to "break the ice." By the way, we both had the turkey dinner with a large side of green beans to share, washed down with a glass of lemonade. The dinner was delicious and filling, perfect for a cold late winter night. Pretty reasonably priced as well and Glypto recommended if you're passing through the area at dinner time.

Don't Do It, Please! Get Help

I deal with EMS suicidal psych eval calls quite a bit, and until recently, those were the only people that ever heard my story. I use it as a mechanism to get them to trust that I truly understand where they are coming from. I finally told my story to a trusted co-worker the other day after yet another suicidal individual went in the ambulance, and decided since my true identity isn't known to post it here. Maybe it could help someone. I have never told my wife or anyone else close to me. It's just embarrassing.

Forty years ago, I attempted to throw away God's Greatest Gift for being in a situation that I thought there was no way out of. Lucky for me, I was not successful. Hell, I was not even injured, and it was the circumstances of that attempt that made me never contemplate such a foolish and selfish thing again. Funny thing was, I had been a gun owner for years and that method never crossed my mind prior to how it really happened.

Without the details, I thought it was a real bad situation with no good way out of. I was still in the Army Reserves, had a good paying civilian job, and my wife was six months pregnant. This day was a few weeks after the "situation" and I was in a deep depression over it. I was working for Northern Telecom normally assigned to CT Bank & Trust, but there was a large project going on at Aetna so they were pulling guys in off other sites for a two week stint to help out. They were renovating the upper floors of City Place in Hartford for new offices. I was was putting new phone jacks on cables that were being re-used and was working all alone on the 34th floor. I did not have a radio to listen to so I was alone on this large quiet office floor with my thoughts. I started thinking about where I was, and wondered what if I were to take the one-way high speed trip to the sidewalk? I kept thinking about it, then dwelling on it, and all the time not thinking about my pregnant wife or other blessings. Just trying to make the depression and thoughts of the situation go away permanently. ENOUGH! I'm gonna do it.... RIGHT NOW!

I looked out the windows to see which side of the building was best. I did not want to land on the roof of an adjacent building so I chose the Haynes Street side of the building which would give me a clear shot 34 floors down to the sudden stop on pavement. The plan was to take out the window with a heavy object and follow it out. I grabbed a large office chair on wheels and heaved it at the window.

It turns out, high-rise office windows are tempered glass, not plate glass. Tempered glass doesn't break with large blunt force unless it is truly overwhelming, it needs concentrated force like a spring punch or a bullet to craze it into little squares like a car window. The chair simply bounced off the window, landed on its wheels, and spun around a few times. It was like it was laughing at me for being so stupid. I sat down on the floor, alternately laughing and crying for the next hour and took it as a sign from God Himself to never do such a foolish thing again.

I was still depressed but no longer suicidal. I decided to tough it out and take it like a man. I wanted to meet my new daughter, be with my wife, and continue to live.

Well, it turned out to be a big nothing burger after all that was resolved without much fuss. I have since been in a couple of similarly bad situations, but taking the permanent solution NEVER entered into the equation. But prayer did and based on these situations, the only reason they eventually worked out or became nothing I can only attribute to God hearing and answering my prayers. Chose to believe or not, but I do.

ALERT!

Working in emergency services, I have the ability to declare an MCI.... "Mass Casualty Incident" any time resources are overwhelmed by casualties. 

Therefore, I am declaring a nationwide MCI right now, for all the Demon-Crap Libturd heads exploding coast to coast after President Trump's impromptu press conference yesterday.

"Riviera of The Middle East"... indeed.

The winning continues unabated.

The Wall That Heals

It is a 3/4 scale replica of the actual Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington, D.C. that travels around the country. This stop in Manchester was put together by the Manchester Elks Club. Unfortunately, Goolag or Blogger or YouTube is being stupid and won't let me embed the video I wanted to place here, so I have a link to it instead.

The Wall That Heals - Visitor Experience

On Tuesday the 17th, I was part of the very large motorcycle escort from the staging area at the defunct Enfield Square Mall, to the wall's destination at Charter Oak Park in Manchester. This first photo is from the middle of the motorcycle group on I-91 southbound by exit 45. You can't see the truck hauling the wall far ahead in the distance. Me and the two guys I rode with are ahead in the group somewhere. There were lots more bikes behind the photographer. CT State Police closed the highway so everyone could get on, and then ran blocking for us for lane changes and interchanges. The ride went I-91S, to I-291E, to I-384E, and then we got off at the Main Street Manchester exit. We got a little jammed up getting on I-384 due to crossing traffic, but everyone made it through safely.

This part of the event was meant to also act as a homecoming parade for the Vietnam vets. Main Street in Manchester was full of people and there were tons of school children from the local schools cheering and waving flags. Someone shot this video of the parade and posted it on the town's Fakebook page. I lifted this picture of yours truly rolling by on The Beast from about the 1:45 mark.

We rode all the way up Main Street to the intersection of East Center Street, turned right on East Center, and then right again onto Spruce Street riding all the way south back down to Charter Oak Road. That put us directly across from the entrance to the park and our final destination. When everyone parked and dismounted, we gathered by the truck for a group photo and thank yous from the organizers and town officials. Afterwards, everyone mounted up and rode a few blocks back up Spruce Street to Bissell Street and the Elks Lodge for a fantastic complimentary meal. Needing to do some yard work later on, I chose to just head home instead of riding more with some of my co-workers that are members of the "Riders of Fire" motorcycle club.

Wednesday was the day they assembled the wall. I had a 24 hour shift at the FD so I could not go to lend a hand. This is pretty cool; members of Gold Star Families in attendance get to help carry the panel containing the name of their loved one that was KIA.

There was a coastal storm spinning around in the Atlantic off the coast of Cape Cod and the weather forecast was for rain Wednesday night and showers on Thursday. Instead, the high pressure system to the northwest kept it all away. Thursday morning was bright and sunny so I decided I needed me a dose of wind therapy. I decided to head down to the wall for my own private visit. That bright and sunny turned into hot and sunny, and temps that were supposed to be in the low 70's pushed up to 89. I arrived just before 11 AM and the whole place was packed with people and cars with the lots full. But as usual, there is always room for motorcycles, so I got parked and started walking down to the crowd. All of a sudden, a C-130 screamed overhead at about 500' and I realized that was the flyover for the official opening ceremonies! I went down to the seating area just as it was starting and stayed for the whole thing which lasted a little over an hour. Afterwards I thought I would get my visit in but there were too many people in my way. My wife and I had a meeting with a financial planner the next day and planned to visit the wall after having lunch.

So that's exactly what we did. Went to our meeting first, had a yummy lunch at Hana Sushi, and then went down to Charter Oak Park. The crowds from Thursday were gone, and we had our choice of where to park and see what we wanted when we wanted.

I only know one name on the wall, Whitney T. Ferguson III. He was from the town I used to live in and a school chum of another Vietnam Vet I know personally. The first thing we did was find what panel he was on. Its 29W, Row 7. When I tried to get a picture of his name on my visit to The Wall in D.C. it was up so high I had to blindly hold my camera as high as I could standing on tiptoe. It had taken several tries to get a decent shot. I was easily able to photograph his name on the 3/4 scale wall.

I have not seen this display since 2002 when it was set up at Coventry High School on the athletic field. I forgot it was engraved stone like the original. For some reason I thought it was laser etched or just printed on metal. This allows visitors to do rubbings just like the full scale memorial. The visitor guides were walking around with pads of paper and pencils for anyone desiring one to do their own rubbing.

Here is a panoramic shot I took of the entire length of The Wall. Click it to big it.

There is more to see than just the wall. The trailer the wall comes in is also a Vietnam War museum. There are windows on the sides of the trailer containing artifacts and displays. One thing that was on display was this 1970 draft lottery numbering system table. We plugged in my birthday and I would not have been drafted if I were draft age. My baby brother, on the other hand would have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This plaque was set on the ground in a small cordoned off area. It is a duplicate of the one in D.C.

The last thing I photographed was the most touching. It is the empty seat set at the dinner table for those MIA's or POW's.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wall will be going to Bridgeport next. The escort will go from staging in Westport to Bridgeport. I will not be doing that escort run. It's well outside of my normal PGR A.O.

 

I apologize for not getting this post up sooner. I started it on Saturday the 21st while on duty at the FD, but got hit with ambulance calls and never got back to it. Sunday and Monday were days off which were booked up with stuff to do. I am back on duty today and finally got it done.

 

Say Her Name

Aubrey Ashleigh Premo

Let me explain....

Yesterday was day 2 of my normal two day off rotation at the FD. Since I took care of half the yard work and some other errands on Wednesday, Thursday was going to be a motorcycle outing again this week. The plan was to prep the yard for mowing later in the day by blowing off the leaves that are already starting to fall, allowing the grass to dry completely. Then I could head out to see if I could convince one of my co-workers to hop on his bike and go get some lunch. I find that I have been more successful showing up at peoples door on my bike than making a phone call or sending a text. He wasn't home but I found his car parked at his town firehouse. I called him thinking he was inside, but he was out of town working a dive recovery from a weekend boating accident. So I was on my own. I decided to once again head for the shoreline, heading for the CT/RI border town of Pawcatuck, where I could pick up U.S. 1 and head west to Mystic this time. That would take me past the roadside seafood stand called The Sea Swirl for lunch. $22 and change for a fish sandwich, fries, and a large drink, but boy was it good! The only thing I don't like about that place (which I had forgotten) is there are no restrooms, not even a porta-potty. Kind of a necessity when stopping for food especially on two wheels. I hate eating with a full bladder but what could I do? As I was finishing my lunch a car pulls in and parks head in near the table I was sitting at. The male driver was drinking a fucking beer. He knows I saw him but he must think since I am a biker, I'll just be cool about it so he downs the rest of it. I decided to delay my departure to see what these people were going to do. Driving a bike can be hazardous enough without a known intoxicated driver being on the road in the vicinity. They got out to order food and it was obvious that the female passenger was drunk as she stumbled over to the outdoor sink to wash her hands. They order food and knowing they would have to wait for it, that's when I started getting ready to leave so I could be well away from them. She sits on a bench and he goes back to the car, opens the trunk, and grabs another beer. Busch Light... and I see he is wearing a casual shirt that is imprinted with the Busch Light logo all over it. What does that tell you? I know what it tells me, this guy is a functional drunk with a beer in his hand all the time. And these two are not young dumb teens, they are in they're late 40's or early 50's! He gets in the car and sits in the passenger seat to drink his beer, kinda eyeballin' me. I was so tempted to report them, but that would take time and I.... looking out for NUMBER 1 (me) decided to just get the hell away from them. I headed west on U.S. 1 and turned north on RT. 27 past Mystic Seaport and The Mystic Aquarium. There is a large Shell station with a mini-mart and restrooms just before the aquarium access road, so I stopped to perform some hydraulic recycling. I continued up RT. 27 to the end and took some very nice back roads I know through Ledyard and Preston heading north toward the Norwich area and then on to home.

In my travels towards home I passed the road side memorial for Aubrey. I drive by it regularly and have noticed recently it was overgrown, and the cross had fallen over. I had planned to grab some yard implements and make a special trip to clean it up, but on impulse I decided to stop and see what I could do. Here are the results.

Click it to big it

 

I cleared the overgrowth by hand. The weeds were easily moved/removed, but the mushrooms and toadstools looked nice in place. The cross is made of steel painted white with decal letters spelling out her name. Most of the decals are gone, so later I will come back to clean off the old adhesive and replace them. I found a rock 3X the size of my fist which worked perfectly to hammer the cross back into the ground, The sign with her name and picture was bent over so I straightened it back up. The sunflower ornament had fallen over as well, so that got put back up.

Here is the back story of her accident that I found out through my FD connections. She was working at Day Kimball Hospital as a PCT (patient care technician) while attending nursing school to become an RN. She was engaged to be married, had a brand new 2019 Harley-Davidson and was out for a nice September afternoon cruise with her fiance'. He was following behind her on his bike when the accident happened right in front of him. According to my sources in EMS, she was killed instantly. There was nothing anyone could do to save her. I had been out on my bike that Sunday as well, and drove right through there going the opposite direction less than 2 hours earlier. When I was at home, I heard on the scanner that there was a motorcycle accident on RT. 89 in Mansfield, but did not closely listen to the call. After being home a few hours, my wife and I were headed out for dinner going out that way. When we got to Laurel Lane, the road was closed and we turned around to take another route. I could see the scene from where we turned around and it just looked like a tree down across the road. I didn't put two and two together. It was only later that I found out that it was the motorcycle accident and that it was a fatality. The news reports said that Aubrey was "struck by a tree branch." Bullshit, she was crushed to death by a whole large tree. Interestingly, tree crews had been working in the area, removing and trimming trees that could take down power lines the previous weeks. Did they miss taking down this tree or somehow otherwise cause this accident? Who knows.

As a biker with The Patriot Guard Riders, I know how important memorials and services are. It is sad that Aubrey's memorial has fallen to the wayside but I understand people move on with their lives. As a fellow biker that works in emergency services I feel a special kinship to those who meet their end while out enjoying God's Creation on two wheels. I guess I will take on the role of maintainer and try to keep her memorial visible and fresh anonymously. Only my blog and X readers know about this, no one in meat space does.

Oh No, Not Another FUDD!

This past Saturday evening we had a bonfire at my house and had several friends over. Because of work, weather, wildfire conditions, and activities requiring us to get up early the next day, this is the first one we've had all year. I started burning late morning, by lighting off the brush pile that has filled my fire pit since last fall. I continued to feed the pit with downed tree limbs supplemented by firewood. My stack of firewood was pretty wet, forcing me to place firewood standing on end inside the rock fire ring to dry out before being placed on the fire pile. As the firewood dried out and put on the fire it was replaced with more wet wood. Every now and then a few seconds of forced air with my hand held leaf blower turning it into a blast furnace ensured the fire kept burning well all night long. I'll pre-dry a quantity of firewood before the next fire.

What prompted this post is finding out someone in the fire service I have known for 40 years is a raging FUDD and a BUTTER and I never knew it. In case you're new to my blog, or firearms, or The Second Amendment, here's a couple of definitions:

FUDD:  Especially those veterans that spout their anti-gun views because "muh service"

BUTTER:  "I believe in The Second Amendment, BUT nobody needs/should have ______"

I am a Second Amendment absolutist, meaning if you can afford it, you should be able to purchase it, straight from the manufacturer WITHOUT ANY GOVERNMENT KNOWLEDGE OR INTERFERENCE. And I do mean EVERYTHING! F-15 fighters, nuclear powered submarines, M1 Abrams tanks, Blackhawk helicopters, etc. Every single federal, state, or local gun law that prevents, prohibits, or otherwise restricts ownership or use of ANY ARMS is an infringement. PERIOD. FULL STOP. The ATF should be immediately disbanded and dissolved, and every employee from the janitor to the director should be put on trial for crimes against American Citizens. And no, The Second Amendment wasn't written to protect hunting and target shooting, but to prevent a tyrannical out of control government. All enemies, foreign and domestic so The Oath goes.

We were seated around the fire and there were several conversations going on. The individual that is the subject of this post was seated next to me. His wife usually comes but she was under the weather. All of a sudden I get a text from a member of my sportsman's club that lives in town. He had fallen at his house and injured himself earlier in the day requiring EMS transport to the hospital. He texted me and asked (jokingly) why I wasn't there when he needed me. I explained I wasn't on duty, but as a joke I would send him my schedule so he only hurts himself when I am working. A guy sitting across from us is also a member of my FD and my sportsman's club. I told him who got hurt, which prompted my friend next to me to ask "Oh, you belong to a shooting range?" I told him I did and that I am the club secretary. He starts telling me he had bought a 9mm pistol years ago but hasn't fired it yet. I asked him if he was carrying it (bad idea if you are not intimately familiar with a firearm for EDC)? He said no, he never would, it's just for the house. I told him he should join me at my range and shoot it, and that I carry all the time. Oh boy, that's when all the FUDD rhetoric spewed forth. He said he'd never carry because it is so restrictive. I told him we live in a stupid clown world and the stupid can find you anywhere, so I carry everywhere regardless, including across state lines. Then he voiced his support for a total "assault weapons" ban because "nobody needs such a thing." I told him no one should be determining the needs of others. Boy he really lit up at the mention of infringements against The Second Amendment, and said something like "screw the Second Amendment it was written for muskets and I am sick of hearing about The Constitution." Wow.... I knew right there that this conversation was potentially not going to remain civil, and used the pause to get up and add firewood to the fire, just dropping the whole subject. I value his friendship more than trying to convince him at 77 years old how wrong he is. The rest of the evening was enjoyable and he actually left the gathering first.

This is the root picture used on X to create FUDD memes. Ol' Pop-Pop wearing a blaze orange hunter cap. The number of firearms I own would be derogatorily called an "arsenal" and the several cubic feet of ammo called a "cache" by such an individual.

 

"I have a .22 rifle, a bolt action .30-06, and a shotgun. That''s all that anyone ever needs. Concealed handguns are the tool of the criminal"

I actually had a FUDD (a former chief of my department) say those very words. But then he would go on to say that a .45 ACP 1911 was the best handgun because he killed a guy in Vietnam with one, and 9mm anything was crap. I tried to explain modern 9mm ammo and handguns are nothing like what the Germans used with their Lugers. He didn't care to discuss it so asked him if I could just shoot him with the 9mm I carry. He was not amused and called me a fucking idiot for carrying a gun all the time. I told him maybe he was the fucking idiot for not carrying a tool to defend himself, because a concealed firearm in a proper holster harms no one. Another conversation ended by me walking away.

Three P.G.R. Funeral Flag Lines

Yesterday I reported for Patriot Guard duty at the CT Veterans Cemetery in Middletown for two funerals back to back. Staging time for the first one was 12:00 and the second one was set for 13:00. I arrived on "The Beast" early as usual, with my first stop at the admin building to use the restroom. I spotted the area in the cemetery where the others were gathered and moved over there to park. There were three freshly dug and readied graves for cremains right in a row nearby. While we were just hanging out the funeral director shows up and informs the Ride Captain that there is a funeral prior to the two we are there for, and the family is asking if we would stand a flag line for their loved one as well. Now the P.G.R. will never just show up, or come on hearsay, we must be officially invited by immediate family of the deceased. Since we were already there and the mission kinda met the criteria, we assembled our flags and got in place just as the procession was arriving. There were only 12 mourners but about 20 P.G.R. members, and the family was extremely happy with what we did. It was a little unusual because the urn was a his & hers side by side holding two sets of cremains. Therefore, because the husband was the veteran but the wife wasn't, no military honors were performed. It was a simple burial.

The next two burials proceeded as usual, with an honor guard rifle team firing 3 volleys, a bugler playing taps, and two Army soldiers doing the flag. When there is a casket, the casket is draped with a flag right to the grave. That flag is 5' x 9' and specially made for draping a casket. It is never meant to be flown on a flagpole. It is lifted from the casket and folded 13 times into a triangle for presentation to the family. When there are cremains, the flag arrives already folded and placed with the urn. The military honor guard then picks up the flag, unfolds it, smartly snaps it open horizontally, pauses, then refolds it into the triangle for presentation. I have heard it so many times I know it by heart:

"On behalf of the President of The United States, The United States Army/Navy/Air Force, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service."

The Marines (fucking crayon eaters 😆) have their own version that goes like this:

On behalf of the President of The United States, The Commandant of The Marine Corps, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service.

After military honors are rendered, religious burial services are then held. It seems all the ones I've ever been to were Christian or none. Raised a Catholic, I know that one really well and usually includes "The Lord's Prayer" and the 23rd Psalm.

The Lord’s Prayer

Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us,
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil. (Catholic prayer ends here) 

For thine is the kingdom and the power, and the glory,
forever and ever. (Other Christian denominations)

Amen.

 

The Lord Is My Shepherd

A Psalm of David.

23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
²     He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
³     He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
    for his name's sake.

⁴ Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
    I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

 

One of the final prayers is called the "Eternal Rest Prayer" and goes like this:

Eternal rest grant unto him/her, O Lord,
and let Your perpetual light shine upon him/her.
May his/her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed
rest in peace.

Amen.

While it is entirely recited by the priest, the second line is said by all in attendance.

 

Over the past six years of Patriot Guard duty, I have learned more about funerals than I ever thought possible. For someone that deals with death on the job regularly, attending all these funerals seems to provide a sort of closure. Most of the people I deal with that die are strangers anyway, just like the funerals I go to. It kind of evens out.

There Must Have Been A Grant

Because these things are popping up everywhere in towns in my area, on both local and state roads. Solar powered electronic speed sensor signs that provide feedback to the driver.

Once upon a time, these were only seen in school zones or problem areas. They also used to show your actual speed no matter how fast you were going. It was once my favorite game, to announce loudly "My Favorite Game!" and romp the accelerator as soon as I spotted one, much to the dismay of my wife that would ask "Do you have to do that?" My personal best was in a 25 MPH school zone in MA on a Saturday afternoon with no one around reaching a smokin' 74 MPH. But no more. DPW and DOT tyrants have ruined my fun and obviously the fun of many like me.

Some of the signs now simply don't turn on or go blank at certain speeds. The one closest to my house does both at 50 MPH. Others say "SLOW DOWN" or "TOO FAST" and some have attention getting strobes. I have seen a couple of strobes set up with alternating red and blue, I guess to make you think its a cop? The signs are obviously user programmable, so my new favorite is this one:

Aw... unhappy face because I am ignoring the speed limit

These are more rare but fun to find... I made the sign unhappy. HA! HA! There was a rumor once upon a time that these things had a camera that took a photo of your license plate so you could get a ticket in the mail, but that was just bullshit.

Speaking of bullshit... on I-84 East in Tolland there is an overhead electronic sign that normally reads how long it will take you to go the 19 miles to the MA border. It also changes to give traffic and weather advisories. Speeds on that stretch of highway with a 65 MPH speed limit usually run 80+, yet the sign ALWAYS reads 19 miles in 18 minutes, never the true reading. The math for a true reading would be:

Distance x 60 / Actual speed = Time

So 19 x 60 = 1140 divided by the legal speed limit of 65 = 17.54 minutes rounded up to 18

where a true reading would be

19 x 60 / 80 = 14.25 minutes (rounded down to 14?)

The gubmint nannies have always told us that speeding doesn't make much difference in travel time, and it is so unsafe. Oh yeah? I would call 4 minutes over 19 miles a significant time savings and I usually crank along at a good clip. State police in Kommiecticut don't run radar traps anymore, even on this holiday weekend. They only bother with the really high speed and aggressive drivers. I was monitoring C.S.P. Troop C at the firehouse Friday, and they issued at least 4 BOLO alerts for high speed aggressive drivers IN THEIR AREA on I-84 from the MA border down to exit 64 in just a couple of hours. I don't have to worry about a speeding ticket. Even if I did get pulled over, my Kommiecticut fire department ID shows next to my license in my wallet and unless I did something really bad, acts as a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card.

Jury Duty 5-14-24

I lived in my previous house in another town for 16 years. During that time I was summoned for jury duty at least 4 times. Two of those times I called the courthouse telephone number the night before and heard a recorded message stating my presence in the court was not needed, and that my obligation had been fulfilled. But twice I actually had to appear in court and go through the screening process. Both times I was rejected for reasons that were quite amusing. One was a civil case where a guy was suing everyone under the sun because he was injured at work. When they asked me my opinion about punitive damages I brought up the idiot woman that held a scalding hot cup of coffee between her legs while she drove away from the McDonald's drive-thru and was burned, receiving millions in punitive damages. I asked if the injured party had his medical bills taken care of which the attorneys assured me they were. The guy cut his face but you could not even tell because he was not disfigured in the least. He fell and hit his head on the garage door window which broke and cut his face, so they were suing the company (Jiffy Lube), the corporate and company management, the builder of the building, the architect, the manufacturer of the door, the manufacturer of the window, etc. STUPID! I got bounced for more than just my statements though, since I was friends with the manager of that Jiffy Lube, brought my company van in there regularly, and the plaintiff's law firm was a customer of my company. The other one was a criminal case of assault of one inmate against another in the state prison system. The defendant sat 25 feet away in front of me looking right at me. The attorneys asked if I could be fair and impartial. I told them absolutely not, because he was a convicted criminal and incarcerated, and therefore a liar because everyone in prison is innocent. Plus I was pretty sure they had him on video six ways from Sunday beating the crap out of his fellow inmate. I was thanked for my honesty and sent on my way.

This was the second time in 19 years in my present residence that I have been called. The first time was like previous times, where I called the courthouse and told I would not have to appear. This notice for jury duty arrived in late March, and in Kommiecticut it is now in the form of an actual court summons. Once upon a time, certain potential jurors were automatically excused right off the bat like cops, firemen, EMT's, doctors, lawyers, etc. No more. Only legislators and officers of the court are automatically exempted (how convenient they have exempted themselves from this burden) and anyone 75 or older can choose to be exempt. You can reschedule your date for any reason, but eventually you will have to appear. I filled out the online juror questionnaire promptly and waited for the notice to come in the mail of how to proceed. The notice with the phone number to call the night before came in the mail about a week before I was scheduled to appear.

Now, I don't really give a shit about doing my civic duty in a *GUN FREE DEATH ZONE like a courthouse that is staffed and guarded by unarmed Judicial Marshall's, with one exception... to engage in Jury Nullification. If I am ever called for a case involving non-criminal self defense and the use of deadly force, I will do everything possible to serve on that jury and cause a hung jury and mistrial. No one that uses deadly force to protect their loved ones or their castle should ever even be charged. But this is Kommiecticut and they will try to prosecute you to the fullest if they think they can build a case. And I don't care how they try to make jury service sound like it is such a glorious thing to do. It is a burden to your life, family, and employer, and it's even worse if you end up sequestered.

On Monday evening the 13th I called the courthouse number... and groaned. The recording said to report to the courthouse Tuesday morning and get checked in by 08:30, and also recommended packing a lunch. Lucky for me it was a scheduled day off so I didn't have to deal with my employer. I packed a lunch like I usually do for work anyway and grabbed a breakfast sandwich at the local convenience store for the road. The courthouse is just over 20 minutes away and I got there early not knowing what the parking situation was. It turns out it is a large open lot right across the street from the courthouse with free parking. I stayed in my truck until I saw a Marshall unlock and open the front door. I left my cooler with lunch in my truck figuring that is where I would eat it at lunch time, and also unloaded and secured my firearm so I could easily enter the *GFDZ which uses airport style security measures. I got in and headed up to the 3rd floor Jury Assembly Room. I carried a book, my summons, a banana, and a bottle of water. You are allowed to have your cell phone so I also had that to read my blogs and be on Twitter. But they warn against posting ANYTHING about the case on social media.

I sat in the room for about 40 minutes as other jurors continued to check in. There were a total of 40-50 people and a mixed cross-section of age, sex, and ethnicity. After everyone was checked in and attendance was verified, the Judge came in to address us for about 10 minutes. I could not believe how young he was... maybe 40? After he left we had to watch a pair of videos. A brief one about jury service, and how honored we should be that we were chosen, which to me was nothing but YAY RAH RAH pro jury propaganda. The other one was about bias, and how everyone has them, but need to suppress them concentrating only on the evidence presented. They beat the phrase "Awareness is Fairness" into the viewer with every person in the video repeating the phrase over and over. Another long period of waiting in the assembly room and then we were herded down stairs to the 2nd floor to the courtroom. They held us in the hall for 10 minutes and then we were lead into the courtroom.

We were seated in the gallery for a few minutes and then told to stand and raise our right hand to be sworn in. We were seated again and introduced to the prosecutors, the defendant, and the defense attorney. We were given the simple facts of the case; the defendant's significant other had a restraining order against him, which he proceeded to violate six times over the span of a week by "contacting" her, whatever that meant. There was never any violence, only "contact." He plead "Not Guilty" and desired a trial.

Now I have an opinion about those useless pieces of paper called restraining orders. They are mostly gotten by women against abusive men. So ladies, if you're gonna get one, back it up like this. When he comes to pay you a visit, you be ready to ventilate with extreme malice. Otherwise it is fucking worthless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, back to my story. The prosecutors then read a list of names of attorneys, witnesses, researchers, investigators, etc. anyone that may be associated with the case. If you knew any of those people you were to raise your hand to let them know, get questioned, and possibly be excused. Two people raised their hand, and the defense attorney stated there was one more person that did not speak up but should have. The attorneys were then called up to the bench to confer with the judge. The two that raised their hands as well as three other people's names were called and ordered to stay in the courtroom, while the rest of us went back up to the Jury Assembly Room to wait.I don't know whom the third individual was and don't care.

Lunch was supposed to be at 1 PM and I was getting hungry. At 1:10 the clerk and a Marshall came in and she read off several names, but not mine. They were told they could leave for lunch and be back by 2:10 PM. Now my being hungry was turning into becoming "Hangry" as I figured I was going to be called back downstairs at some point and my belly would be growling loudly while answering questions. Nope! As soon as those people left, the clerk said, "If I did not call your name, your jury service is over and you may leave for the day. "WOO HOO! I AM OUTTA HERE!!" I left the building and took off in my truck to eat my lunch under a shady tree in the state park I would pass on the way home... which is exactly what I did. Because I actually appeared in court in person, I am exempt from jury duty for the next three years and will be receiving a certificate of proof in case I get called in error.

I got home, changed my clothes, and headed out on "The Beast" for some much needed wind therapy. I ended up at my baby brother's house some 30 miles away whom I haven't seen in a while. My sister-in-law was there too since she works from home. We had a nice visit for a couple of hours before I filled my gas tank and headed home.

*GFDZ = Gun Free Death Zone

TDS Is Worse Than China Coof

Although I never agree with her politically, I do enjoy reading Comrade Misfit's blog Just An Earth-Bound Misfit, especially on Sunday mornings with her regular feature of Prop/Jet/Rotor Noise featuring military and sometimes rare aircraft in flight. I mean she is obviously a Pink Floyd fan, so....

But her post today cracks me up. The title is "Don't Let Them Live in Your Head Today" yet that is exactly what is going on with her and every other TDS sufferer. All the D/S/C propaganda media and Faux News wanted Nikki Haley to win, but there was and continues to be no way. I wish I could stomach an hour each of CNN and MSNBC to watch the meltdown post Iowa of Trump's historic win, but I am on shift for the FD and hunched over the toilet puking makes it hard to fulfill my duties.

As always, I wish Comrade Misfit well, and just imagine how much better the country would be if she and all the other TDS sufferers held the D/S/C's feet to the fire to follow The Constitution, actually improve the economy, close our borders, crack down on crime, etc. etc. instead of directing so much negative energy to one man and his supporters.