"Put down the Taser, pick up the baton!"
(Link is to AJC - registration required - rapacious popup scheme)
It seems to me that, this unfortunate death aside, tasers, which incapacitate most folks immediately, would make tussling with Sherriff's Deputies while in custody less likely, not more likely to be fatal. Wonder what's the fatality rate for taser shocks vs. baton conks? Anyway, a guy who's still fighting after multiple Deputies' attempts to subdue him is, realistically, diminishing his chances of a healthy outcome.
Not saying he deserved to die - just that he dealt the play. What are deputies supposed to do - let guys run who show sufficient passion for freedom?
Click. I can hear Bruce Hampton singing it now.
Via Iowahawk.
By Tad Wexler
Dear Amy,
This letter is very difficult for me to write. Not as difficult as slaying an acid-vomiting, triply non-decapitable lizard monster, of course, but very difficult nevertheless. You are a wonderful girl, cute and funny and charming, and any guy would dream of earning your admiration, gratitude, trust, and, eventually, love. That I earned all these things and more in a few moments of horror-stricken battle, mired in the spilled guts of our friends at Lake Winnesku, only enhances the poignancy of leaving them all behind. But leave them behind I must. I have been living a lie ever since the day Szczrezloth & I grappled for our lives, and I cannot stand it any more.
I will never forget our tearful embrace after that bloodstained encounter, and I confess that right at that moment I thought that we would be together forever. I also confess that I had gone to Lake Winnesku with the full intention of winning your love. I was jealous of that stupid jock Brad, and hoped you would see that you were too good for him. However, it’s important to me that you know that seeing most of his flesh melted by acid, and then watching him eaten alive, still screaming for help, while you looked on, was completely beyond the scope of any plan I had for winning you.
This brings me, inevitably, to the day before that, when Brad attacked me at the swimming hole. Amy, that was the true me: perched pathetically on the bank, my swimsuit waistband pulled up around my armpits, afraid to jump, afraid to turn around. That is the image I keep coming back to, and the shame of it is seared on my memory – well, not literally seared, we all know what that’s like - but I still haven’t been able to erase it. If I had attacked Brad with an improvised napalm hose and pitchfork, such as I used on Szczrezloth, then our story would have ended quite differently: I would be in prison, Brad would still be dead (I suppose), but maybe without Brad’s belligerent honking nasal voice, the lizard-giant might have remained dormant; some of our friends would still be alive, and I would at least still feel like I was man enough for you.
So this is goodbye. I am sad that I will never again feel your kiss, your warm embrace, your soft skin next to mine. But it’s what I need to do right now. Of course, if you ever need a friend, a shoulder to cry on, or someone to talk to, or especially if you ever again need rescuing from a raging lizard beast from beyond the final dimension of Hell, give me a call. I will always be there for you.
Love, Tad
Via Mitch, this Idiosyncratic Meme:
Write down five of your own personal idiosyncrasies.
1. One that nobody probably knows about: I have had a 9-syllable tune running through my head most of the time since about 1970 (when I was 11). If I encounter a 9-syllable phrase, I mentally place it into the dittie. I used to dittie-fy obsessively, trying to shoehorn phrases into the 9 syllables. Now it's more of a recreational compulsion. I also sometimes get my 9 syllables from the Mexican Hat Dance (Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun: DUN DUN!)
2. I have an aversion to rosemary. It's my only real food aversion and is of recent vintage. Now, food preferences are idiosyncratic, but not usually interesting, but I think my reason is somewhat interesting and instructive. Around 1994, I ate a Rosemary Chicken Pizza at Rocky's Brick Oven Pizzeria, a famous pizza joint in Atlanta until the owner died (in bizarre circumstances.) Anyway, the next day, completely unrelated to the pizza (I'm sure), I caught the flu and was sick for 3 days. Friends, rosemary (and, who knows, maybe Rosemary) tastes the same coming up as going down. Have I said enough? Anyway, just the smell of the stuff coming from a kitchen provides a powerful sense memory of those sick days.
3. I talk to myself. But I'm saying constructive things, so bear with me. I was mildly obsessive-compulsive growing up. I overcame it by reminding myself, "It doesn't matter" repeatedly whenever tempted by the OC demon ("Hey! You washed your hair after washing your face! Top to bottom, people, top to bottom! Start over!") Sometimes people still hear me saying that. Outside the shower, I mean.
Jeez, only 3 idiosyncracies. Maybe someone who knows me can pipe in with some more. Limit: 2 per customer.
Update: Oooh! More!
4. I learned to read from my dad's Pogo books and from his edition of the Complete Edgar Allan Poe. Has this made me bi-polar? I dunno. I do have big plans for the world! The most visible effect (audible, actually) is that I sometimes talk funny. I have come to believe that, even if people don't know who Pogo is, those who react overly negatively to my occasional Pogo-isms are usually showing me something about themselves that I would hide if I were them.
It occurs to me that I have not adequately described the relationship between me and Mind and Media, the outfit for which I am reviewing books. I plan to update the Hedges review as soon as I can (I'm headed to a meeting as soon as I post this, however) and so right here and now I want to correct the inadequate disclosure in the review. (If you followed the Mind & Media link on my main page, you would probably already know this. But I think it's worth repeating here.)
Mind and Media solicits reviews from bloggers who receive free copies of the book in exchange for their reviews. I received Hedges for free and I think you have the right to know that.
All future reviews that are for Mind & Media-donated books are done on the same consideration and will include a link to this post.
None of the other reviews I've posted on this site received any such consideration. Just so you know.
This is my first review for Mind & Media, a unique marketing outfit run by Stacy Harp. Go to the site and read some reviews, and buy the books if you feel so moved.
Jerry B. Jenkins, co-author of the “Left Behind” books, provides valuable advice that many men need to hear in “Hedges: Loving Your Marriage Enough To Protect It.” First published in 1989 as “Hedges,” then in 2000 as “Loving Your Marriage Enough To Protect It,” this revision and expansion (the book now includes a Study Guide as well as a DVD) was perhaps inevitable given the runaway popularity of Jenkins’s other books.
Much of the advice in this book is nothing new to me, having listened to Dr. Laura for years. Like Dr. Laura, Jenkins is very big on appearances and avoiding situations that could easily lead to temptation. Jenkins refers to these as “hedges:” easy-to-remember and practical rules that can forestall temptation and give you an easy escape route if temptation rears its head. These common-sense rules include never being alone with a woman besides your wife, never flirting with other women (or stopping the instant you realize that’s what you’re doing), and paying only the mildest of compliments to women besides your wife. In case anyone doubts that these hedges are needed, he offers plenty of examples of marriages of people he has known, ruined by ignoring the lines these hedges are designed to protect. As befits a Christian writer, he also provides a biblical basis for much of the advice. Especially fitting is his explanation of 2 Timothy 2:22,
“Flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart.”
This forms the basis for his notion of “hedges” against temptation. I admit that I was amused when I first read it, but it makes sense and I’m not theologically equipped to second-guess it:
“We are to run. To flee. To get out. To get away. Why? […] In other areas, God grants us victory. We can win over jealousy, a bad temper, greed, and even pride. […] Clearly there are times when we are stronger than at other times. So what are we to do when temptation rages? If we are weak and have not taken precautions, we have already failed. The only answer is to plan, to anticipate danger, to plot the escape. The time to plant hedges is before the enemy attacks.”
Jenkins focuses solely on adulterous temptation in this book; he mentions but gives short shrift to the idea that other marriages might need other hedges. He also paints a perhaps unintentionally comic self-portrait of Alpha Male Jerry, staring down men who cross lines in the sand with his adored wife, such as being overly flirtatious or even noticing her a little too obviously. I find that a little scary, which is perhaps the way Jenkins likes it. (Jenkins also indulges a great deal of adulatory talk of his wife, even sharing the story of their courtship.) I would have liked to see some examples of hedges against destructive behaviors that do not focus on the sexual. But that’s perhaps another book. Jenkins challenges us to cultivate our own hedges.
Although not specifically marketed towards men, this book is truly aimed squarely at men. A book such as this one aimed at women would look much different. But what it does, it does very effectively. Jenkins makes adultery seem almost inevitable without a lot of attention to our hedges against temptation. He offers valuable insight into the destructive power of adultery (many of his anecdotes end with a terse and effective, “Adultery causes chaos”) and strong incentive for his idea of “Hedges,” a powerful tool for avoiding the temptation that surrounds us all.
For those of you who use the cool Words Screensaver, I have made a Words file of the famous yet mysterious Ebay feedback of andy46477. Enjoy!
Remember when you spit in my mouth when I was sleeping? Well, I was awake. A+REWARDING transaction! Sanitary, too -- IS CUT!
Tub o jelly. 12 gallon belly. Greasy layers, oh so smelly. SEXUALLY ENTICING.
I am bigger than you.
Crabs and seagulls live on shores. I hope that doesn't make you ugly. We love u
True, some of the humor derives from the name of the user to which Andy was responding. However, I decided to just let the comments stand on their own, even if they didn't make perfect sense.
Today was declared a "Cleaning Day" by the powers that be here at work, so I'm blogging a couple of items I found in my stack which I'm going to go ahead and toss. Besides the old toys (I kept only 4 out of a couple dozen) and scads of documentation and manuals that I've never read, I found:
1. An article from June 14, 2000 by the AJC's Cynthia Tucker that I kept because of its opening paragraph:
In the wee hours of the morning of Jan. 31, two men lay on a Buckhead sidewalk dying of the stab wounds they had received in a street brawl outside a bar. The men, Jacinth Baker, 21, and Richard Lollar, 24, were not powerful or wealthy or well-known. In fact, they were everyday working stiffs.2. A dot-matrix-printed sign I made for one of my old systems. It reads,
"NOTICE: DO NOT UNPLUG THESE PHONE LINES. THESE PHONE LINES WILL NOT PERMIT OUTGOING CALLS."
This sign solved a problem that one of my systems had in the late '80's, during the boom in pay "900 number" phone services. We were told that 900 number sex line charges had appeared on the phone bill for one of the modems on the system. Some unknown person had been unplugging phone lines from the back of the modem and into a telephone to do his disgusting business.
We asked our phone support guys to make the line incoming-only; couldn't be done, we were told. We looked into soldering or taping the cord into the back of the modem - didn't find anything that would work. Then about halfway through the second day of noodling this out, I printed out the sign above and taped it to the back of the modem. We never saw another 900 number item on the bill.
That system is no longer in service, so I kept the sign as a memento. But I think I'm ready to toss it in the interest of a less cluttered workspace.
