Laziness...Keeping me from posting for over a year!

I just happened to look at my page today while screwing around on the home computer.  I was shocked to see that it had been over a year since I even posted to here.  The craziness of lazyness took hold of me.
So for all 3 of you who ever read my musings I'll give you an update of what has happened in my life over the past 15 months since I last bored you to tears.

1) I bought a house.  Now my wife will tell you that WE bought a house, but despite my religious zeal for Grammar Nazism, I reserve the right to interchange pronouns when it suits me.  We'll just nevermind the fact that she may or may not have done most of the legwork when it came to dealing with banks and realtors to make this happen.  As the landscape of American politics has shown, the facts don't really matter.

With the purchasing of my first home came a lot of other firsts.  Like mowing my own lawn.  I've mowed a few lawns in my day, but those lawns always belonged to someone else.  I've also learned that if part of your lawn has Creeping Charlie and you mow over that stuff, it will spread to the rest of your yard.  Much like I did to my parents' yard once I am contemplating a healthy dose of gasoline and a match to battle this scourge to my compound....only on purpose this time.

I've also installed my first ever section of wiring for a new dishwasher that had to be replaced because the warranty people wouldn't touch the old, less than up to modern standards wiring to hook it up.  I've also installed 2 light fixtures for the first time, and one light switch.  These things have taught me that I am handier than I thought I was, but still no engineering genius.  Only a couple light jolts to the system to make sure my heart was still working properly. I also recently disconnected the DISH and reran the wiring to the antenna in an effort to save some money I was paying for a bunch of channels I never watch.  I sure will miss those marathon days of That 70s Show on IFC and NCIS on USA.  I'll get over it soon enough.  I'll either addict myself to shows that were in syndication well before I was a twinkle in my dad's eye, or go back to reading more actual books like I used to do when I was younger.

The biggest realization that I've had, I've always known...This house is gonna suck me dry with all the improvements it will need.  Recently a lot of people are saying the same thing with the new construction homes which are priced pretty damn well out of my price range to start and shabbily put up to boot in developments devoid of character or identity.  I can't tell the difference between one house and the next 100 anymore.  Very drab, very unoriginal, very...blah. This one was a steal for where we live, and it has character being an older home. So despite the next 30 or more years of trying to figure out which orifice I'm going to pull the money out of for these necessary improvements, I like my (yes I know, honey, OUR) choice.

2) I assumed the title of Operations Manager at my job.  I assure you this is through no fault of my own, but the evil conniving mind of my boss who thought it was a good idea to put me in charge of people.  After giving me some power to abuse he told me I better not fire a bunch of people I felt were substandard too quickly because I would end up having to cover their posts.  Although I have had the pleasure of ridding the company of less than desirable employees from our little company, sometimes at the expense of my own sanity, reworking a schedule for a week to fill in the new openings can be hell. I can feel grey hairs trying to work their way into my normal appearance.  I went from working day shift Monday through Friday, with nights and weekends free to spend with the family or go do something, to working nights and weekends again... which sucks! But money talks, and my wife and boss shoved me into taking the spot.  All in all it isn't too horrible, but if the Lottery comes calling me saying I won big, I'm out of there!

3) I actually set myself up with some vacation time (that I will actually get paid for thanks to Item #2) that will allow me time to go see family out in California I haven't seen in over 18 years.  My wife will get to meet some of my family she has yet to meet, my oldest son will see them again for the first time since he was 3, and my youngest son will get his first ever trip to California and meet that side of the family. I've been talking about going back for years, but my cousin Erin decided she liked a boy well enough to marry him, and forcing my hand to actually make the trip.  Those guys at the TSA better not screw up my flight schedule!

Other random musings include that after I get back from the aforementioned vacation, I might possibly be looking at getting another dog. After almost a year of our Gracie having a boyfriend on each side, the renters have left their houses and now she has no boyfriends to cavort with.  I think she is getting lonely and needs a playmate to help terrorize the cat, fight with for the attention of us humans residing here, and a companion to romp around the yard with and dominate like she did with the bigger boy toys (a Golden Retriever on one side and a Great Dane on the other) she enjoyed bullying before they moved away earlier this month.

The boys are getting bigger. The 17 year old is still lording over me, and recently started his first real job working as a host at a local Olive Garden restaurant.  Much like I did when I had my first slew of jobs, but lived with my parents, he is seeing dollar signs and that excites him.  I'm almost relishing the moment when he moves on and realizes how great it was to have the job with all the money rolling in and no real bills going out of anyone's wallets but his parents.  And much like my dad, I will laugh heartily and tell him I have no sympathy... until he asks to move back in and eat all my food again. But first he has to get through his senior year of high school.
The 12 year old, while not lording over me is slowly beginning to gain on me in height.  He is at that awkward age where he is still a kid and cute, but beginning to display the obnoxious behavior that comes with a junior high kid, which he will be this fall.  Not like when we were kids and were perfect angels throughout our upbringing, bringing great amounts of pride to our parents and the joy they received when being able to tell all their friends what wonderful kids we were to raise.  (You can stop laughing now mom and dad!) Whenever he has gone to someone else's place he always returns and they gush over what a polite young man he is, and what fun it is to have him in their home.  And within a half hour I find open bottles of his beverages sitting about in random places, candy wrappers strewn around the house, crumbs denoting that "Corwyn was here".  When asked to do something, snide remarks are heard, dirty looks given, or just plain silence of ignoring us abound.  Apparently his daily allotment of goodness doesn't last a whole day. 

I love these boys with all my heart and would never trade them in for the world, but some days I would consider selling them to any bidder!!!  A thought that I know would never have crossed the minds of my parents...again, I was an angel.  I'm sure they got their other-than-angelic ways from their mother. And I'm sure she'd disagree and say its the opposite, but hey, this is my blog.

On the last note for today, For those of you in and around Sac City, On Saturday May 28th, there is a scheduled planting of a memorial tree for Monte Burns at Tolan Field.  As some of you know, Monte passed just a little over 2 years ago.  Monte was like a second father to me, and his sons, Joshua, Jedidiah and Jerimiah were my brothers.  They will be dedicating this tree in their father's name, along with my parents for Monte, specifically at the ballfield where he put in years of coaching the kids of Sac City's Little League teams.  So if you knew Monte, or he coached you or one of your kids, I know the family would love to see you come out for this celebration of Monte Burns' life.

New (and exciting) Developments

Well, a few things have been happening in my life as of recent.

Number One: I have increased my subscribers to this blog up to a whopping 8, yes I said EIGHT!, readers! I have doubled in just one year. Now many bloggers would say 8 is a pretty puny number, but for me, its something of note. There are millions of blogs on the internet, some are news sites with dedicated readership and professional development, others are company based, celebrity based, and of course your content bloggers who stay pretty specific to singular causes. For me, the blog gives me a chance to just throw my thoughts out into the wind on whatever random subject comes up. So, to have 8 people willing to subscribe, not just readers passing through in cyberspace, and regularly read what I, an essential nobody in terms of an already established broad popularity, have to say as at least semi-important, is kind of a big deal to me. I don't really care what any detractors might have to say about it.

Number Two: As I have noted in some forums, I have become increasingly despondent about my job. The hours always worked while we were a one car household, but now my wife has a car, which opens up more opportunity for me to get a daytime job, which would suck a lot less than the overnight thing. It will give me more time to spend with my family as opposed to being a bump on a log they occasionally meet from time to time. Plus, a different job might actually offer me perks such as paid vacation, so I don't have to figure out how to pay the bills if and when I take any time off. Along with maybe a decent livable salary? So I've compiled something resembling a resume, and applied for a few jobs in the area that offer decent wages and preferable daytime hours.
In addition to this, some of you know about my affinity for Denny's restaurants, a smaller number know my history with Denny's. I have recently sent in an advertising proposal to them, that might allow myself and a potential business partner gain more exposure through TV commercials. Of course that is ultimately up to Denny's marketing and corporate people. Most of the ideas are currently conceptual at this point, and this would be really stretching myself beyond my comfort zone. I don't even care to talk in front of small groups of people without having an urge to pee my pants as I run away and hide. Makes me feel like I'm throwing myself into a den of sharks, but hey...Gotta sell myself somewhere if I'm going to take control of my own future, and take care of my family better than I have up to this point. Might as well slap my mug onto television screens across America and on the internet!

Number Three: In about two weeks I get to meet my two new 'nieces' that my buddy Jed and his wife, Naomi, have recently adopted from a Christian orphanage in Ethiopia. It has been a long road for them, but they made it, and I am proud of them for reaching their goal to be parents. I have spoken with Jed recently, who is quite ecstatic about being a dad. I don't blame him. I used to hate kids, and then I had my own, and they are amazing little creatures to watch grow up before your very eyes. They do really funny and crazy stuff all the time, usually far weirder than anything WE ever did growing up.

Bats Attack!!!!

Well, as the single digit temps descended over Iowa, the bat problem is striking again. And again, it is the terrorists' favorite target, the Hoyt Sherman Place. This old mansion seems to be a clearinghouse of nooks and crannies for bats to hide out. And every now and then, they take a few flights in front of the motion detectors, which means I get called to go see what the hell is going on. As usual, I call up my supervisor and make him go there with me. The place is too creepy at night to not have someone there to hold your hand.

This time, we get there, I turn off the alarm system, and no sooner than I hit the lights in the lobby area, the winged terrorist comes flying at us, unleashing the possibility of a rabies-laden attack upon the Mookist general, and his compadre. It's time to go to work eliminating these terrorist sumbitches. Last night,, we were armed with the most primitive of weaponry, the dreaded orange cones (think traffic cones). We finally convinced this monstrous and EFFING HUGE bat to roost in his normal terrorist-trained upside down position at the top of a door across the room. I wheeled around to the left with my cone and my GI Joe-like ninja skills avoiding the bats detection, while my supervisor Casey held the middle ground to the entry vestibule in check. A quick toss, and BAT DOWN, BAT DOWN!!! We placed the cone over him, and I moved to go write up the alarm response sheet at a nearby desk. The bat was sliding underneath the cone towards the door he had previously hung from, trying to escape underneath the locked door that I did not possess a key for. WE stopped him as he was 3/4 of the way through in his backstroke maneuver to freedom. The next step was to fully retrieve the little rat faced bastard from underneath the door. Ever cautious of possible rabies infections from bites or scratches, we searched for something to get a grip on the terrorist and bring him back into the light and under our guard. (The next moment gets a bit gruesome, so weak stomached people stop reading here, and go to your happy place.)

Casey did NOT hand me his pocketknife, and I did NOT use it to stab the winged terrorist in a pinning hold to drag him out. Right after we did NOT do those things, I hear Casey yell out some unsavory words, and mentioned something about another bat. Apparently our NOT piercing the first terrorists skin did NOT release pheromones and a rescue signal to his terrorist partner, who then began to dive bomb us all over the lobby. We placed a nicely weighted bucket over Bat #1, grabbed our cones, and proceeded to go after the 2nd insurgent. After a few strafing runs, the 2nd bat went up the stairwell to the main theater entry hall, strafed us a couple more times, then went up another level, where we lost him in the dark.

We were both disappointed in that result. 1- We enjoy the bat calls, as they are one of the most exciting, and scary moments on the job. 2- We don't necessarily want to be called back if another bat sets off the alarm system, which takes time away from our other duties. And 3- Losing a live terrorist only serves to degradate our reputation as elite rentacops turned combat commandos.

Surely we will be back again, as these winged marauders will start trouble again, trying to dissuade us of our nightly missions, and cause us to give up and go home, allowing the terrorists to claim victory over rentacops and more notably, the Mookist forces. WE will never EVER give in to these terrorists if it takes our entire lifetime to rid our alarm response accounts of these rabies-harboring little (and sometimes not so little) rat-faced bastards. WE intend to NOT kill them all, because killing them would be considered illegal, depending on the species anyways, and I'm no bat-ologist (yes this is a technical term meaning studier of bats), so I can't tell which ones are fair game or not. All I'm saying is if they just happen to have sudden cardiac arrest at the exact moment they tangle with us, well, that's either God or Darwin speaking.

The Blessed Curse of Being Unknown

For most of my life I have had a dual mentality. I love to be complimented, and at the exact same time I hate it. I also like being recognized, while also hating that simultaneously as well. Well last night, I hear from my supervisor just how recognized I'm not.

(Now, for full disclosure here, I don't really care in the end. I just don't mind bitching about overall meaningless shit that happens in my life. If you haven't figured that out yet, or don't believe me, ask my wife. She'll confirm it.)

The other night, after coming out of a building downtown, my supervisor and I notice a confrontation taking place a block up between a hotel security guard from another company and a homeless guy. It starts out verbally, and the next thing we know punches are being thrown. I look at my supervisor and ask if he wants to join the party. So we immediately head that way, but after a quick exchange the homeless guy goes taking off around the corner away from us and the hotel. Directly across the street stands a group of cleaners who had to have watched the whole ordeal, but "none of them saw anything." Of course we made sure the security guard was alright, and stood by ready to be his witnesses. Des Moines' finest arrived pretty quickly, got a quick description and direction of travel and went off to find the homeless guy. They swung back around within a couple minutes and picked up the hotel guy to go identify the perp. Solid ID was made and the guy taken to jail. The cops came back with the security guard and took down information from my supervisor and myself. No big deal.

However last night, my supervisor tells me our office received an email from the hotel. They wanted to extend their thanks for our part in as they put it: taking care of one of our own. Apparently all of us rentacops have our own brotherhood that I wasn't aware of until reading this email. In the email it said, and I quote: Two of your officers (Casey & an unknown)were leaving the Hub Tower and noticed the situation getting a little hostile.

Now, I'm the one guy with a name tag pinned on my chest, the police took down my info including name and all that, and it was my suggestion to go get involved in the situation, and I'm an unknown. That's just great! The letter goes on to say: I just wanted to make sure these gentlemen were noted as taking an extra initiative... This speaks highly of yourself and your officers in the eyes of the [Hotel name redacted]

Well now. That's fantastic. My supervisor Casey, and whoever the hell they figure on placing in the Unknown's slot, now have special regard for "their" initiative in assisting a fellow security officer. Damn supervisors hogging all the spotlight while relegating his underling to status of "YOU, whatever your name is...go do this for me!" What a high horse self important bastard, he is! (Casey, I know you're reading this...I still love you! Stew put me up to this...right after I mentioned blogging the crap out of it!)

You know, as much as I may like and hate a compliment or recognition, a backward compliment has got to be, by far, the worst kind of compliment to receive. It's like there's a committee doling out awards.

"And we'd like to confer special recognition, for all his hard work and extra efforts to...NOBODY!" The music plays, the crowd claps, and some putz goes up there that no one has any idea who the hell the guy is. I mean really..what the hell?

A few years back, when I was relatively new on the patrol squad, I caught a guy breaking into a house. I first found a broken out window pane. I searched the house, and after finding nothing out of place or anyone on site, I had my supervisor at the time get hold of the information to get in contact with the residents. While waiting, some dip wad shows up, I confront him, he confronts the floor, and my handcuffs develop a close personal bond with the guys wrists while we wait on the cops to show up and haul the poor dumb bastard off to jail. As much as I'm not a people person nor care to remember many of them, I still remember that poor bastard's name, 5 years later.

Well we have a meeting the next morning for all the people who run my route. I'm sitting next to the sales/service guy in our office, who also happens to be a former sheriffs deputy. He tells me that I did a good job, although I got really lucky with that whole situation. He then tells me that if the guy had been a professional burglar he would've put me on flat on my ass. Yeah, thanks for the backhanded compliment, buddy!

I realize I'm not some universally recognized bad ass or anything, but I can handle my own, and within that meeting room, there were about 2 guys I had any worry of not being able to take physically..and our former sheriff deputy of a sales guy was not one of those two. Former cop or not, I could've run circles around him all day and he would've dropped dead from a heart attack before besting me.

And to top it all off, my good job at breaking up a B&E didn't get me any recognition like "employee of the month". Nope, that went to a guard who stood at a Wells Fargo Bank along Ingersoll directing customer cars out onto the road around the construction the property was undergoing during the daytime. So for that one I get a backhanded compliment, and then essentially a slap in the face. I was Rent-a-Cop two years in a row (2007-8), and now, I can't even be given a name other than "Unknown". Sad Days!

Of course, let me screw something up. Then they got my name all marked down, double confirmed. And not just my name, but my FULL name: first, middle and last, pillorying me for all to know: The Mook has seriously %$#&*! up, people, please take a note of this mistake that he, MOOK, made. They say no news is good news. So maybe no name is good name?

Maybe when I die, I'll be given a tombstone for "Unknown Rentacop", that is watched over 24/7 by only the finest of rentacops (or, as we call them in the security business, 'any old warm body we can schedule for that slot'). I'd prefer a Marine, like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, but I think that's shooting just a bit too high for a guy like me.

In the end, I suppose it is probably just another ploy by anti-Mookist forces. Conspiratorial bastards!

A Bunch of Closet Mookists

This is what a typical Mook looks like. And the little one is one of THEE Mook's legitimate offspring. And by legitimate, I mean, not merely cloned. I could clone myself, maybe messing with the DNA some to accentuate the strengths that I come by naturally and tweaking out the FEW (and I mean very very very few) not so good traits. I have no bad ones, just some that aren't quite up to snuff with my high standards of awesomeness that I have grown accustomed to possessing. However, I don't think the world is ready even for my offspring, never mind an entire army of me running around. For some people I know, I am already one too many of myself for them to handle in anything other than small doses. they say I'm just too weird, but I know the truth. They are all clearly intimidated by the aura of awesomeness that surrounds me where ever I go.

While I have some followers who have chosen to out themselves and list on this blog as followers, and a few friends who follow me outside of the blog world, it has come to my attention that there are a number of closet Mookists out there. You know who you are, because you are reading this.

I'm not sure quite why you're reading this right now, especially since you should be focusing on your work, you know those clients you have to deal with everyday? You really should be concentrated on their needs and on keeping your SLA numbers up. Otherwise my wife will get irritated. Most of you have never seen her truly irritated. Trust me, as awesome as I am, even I don't like to see her really irritated. I irritated the heck out of her once, years ago. It resulted in a lopsided frying pan that almost took my head off, and even by missing and her ensuing diatribe of misdirected anger (I mean really, I am charming enough that even when I mess up on those once in a decade type situations, I should be let off the hook.), I have yet to be able to fully recover. My brain is always bouncing around from thought to..hey look a shiny quarter!..thought. I haven't had a normal sleep schedule in years, my mind is so affected. Sure, she'll tell you I was ADD before she met me, and that my sleep schedule has more to do with my odd work schedule than her chewing me a new one. Truth is, she's wrong. She is lying and she knows it. She's just trying to gloss over a more turbulent past. She would like everyone to assume she has always been as sweet and awesome as she is now. She forgets that I did not bestow the grace of my awesomeness unto her until about 4 years ago. Sometimes success just goes to a person's head.

Anyways, where the hell was I? Oh yeah. Your work, you little closet Mooks! Get to it! You can read this on your own time, right along with your political discussions you hold from time to time.

What's that? Oh you didn't realize I knew all about that? Yeah, see that is why I am full of awesomeness, and you are all just full of awe. I got midget monkeys trained in the art of the ninja scoping out your homes. If you get up to go take a leak at 3am, they see it, and I know about it. Sick huh? It gets better. Yeah, one of each of these ninja monkeys' eyes are bionic and hooked up to a live stream to my computer being recorded.

Its not that enjoy watching you people use the bathroom, I really don't. Its all about recording your habits and activities for the future. You see, I'm convinced as I';m sure you are all convinced as well, of the greater worldwide conspiracy against me by the global elite. They are afraid of me. I am a product of prophecy as my ego was born before me and foretold of my birth. Of course in the process of my birth, the ego had to insert itself inside of me, my head got too big, and mom was forced to C-section me out because I wouldn't be squeezed out so easily. But yes, I appear to be a simple man now, but the real truth of it all is that someday, after I get done procrastinating and stuff (just one of my manly superpowers), I will be the greatest force to be reckoned with on my block. Well, provided that bully I saw over by the swing set earlier doesn't move in on my block.

And that is where you come in. Once that bully makes his move, I'm going to send my ninja monkeys to summon you, my secret unknown army, to harass the bully with your superior numbers. Of course you're gonna have to finish that call your on, and make sure it is properly documented before you close it out, and tell my wife you're going home sick. Either way it will be an Epic battle of Good Vs. Evil. I of course am good, and the bully is evil. You all will probably falter at the moment of truth and try to be the U.N. and level sanctions on him. And then, I will have to get mad, turn green and burst out of my pajama pants and wife beater. And then I will show the bully how my shoulders used to look like plastic action figure molded muscles, before they turned to flabby useless slabs of limp roast beef. Damn You Jimmy Johns! You turned me into what I eat! Damn you all to helllllll! (are any of you old enough to even get the altered movie reference here?)

Anyways, the bully will be distracted with my perfect and scientific like description of how cool I used to be, and then finally my ninja monkeys will catch up to us. They smoke and have developed COPD and lug around oxygen tanks, so they are a little slower than you guys. But, more effective than you, they will just plunder the bully, dip him in a bronzing agent and put him on display at the park. Just to let people know that the park is now considered under the jurisdiction of Mookified security forces. Meanwhile, you useless people, having disgraced the message of Mookism, will be sent back to work. But I will have called my wife and told her why she should write you all up for lying about why you left 'sick'.

At the end of the day, I will just be this awesome. And you will be grumbling cubicle dwellers, who speak under their breath about how REALLY MESSED UP the Mind of Mookie can really get. Just make sure you do it on your break. I wouldn't want you to get into too much trouble with the boss. Afterall, I have to let her come back home at the end of the day, and I don't want her to take out her issues with you all on me.

People Skills

Also titled: Sarcasm- It's Not Just A Breakfast Cereal

Now, I am sure most of you read the title and ask yourselves "What the hell does Mookie know about people skills?"

To that I say, intellectual knowledge and application of are two different ideas entirely. I know what people skills are and how they are supposedly, in theory anyways, to be applied in real life interactions. However, I have little use at this time for people skills, and my job requires little use for them, so I don't want to ruin my hard earned reputation for laziness and waste time on such needless efforts. I drive around, rattle some doors, and rarely have to talk to anyone while I work. And on the occasion that a client calls, I can make myself sound professional for 2 or 3 minutes. If some moron on the street feels the need to poke fun at my being a Rent-a-Cop, well, that's on him. That's usually the person who later on wil be so drunk he doesn't even realize how many times he's pissed in his own pants. I on the other hand made some money and provided for my family, so screw him (I edited the real word out that went through my brain).

People apply people skills often to keep the peace amongst each other, or in some cases to manipulate the behavior of those around them. To a degree, people skills and maintaining a sense of political correctness in our world have become intertwined. Its pretty much ludicrous how intertwined they can be at times. People open their yap a lot, and oftentimes say something or another that is going to offend somebody. In high school this can lead to a fight...in adulthood it leads to political grandstanding. Neither of which I have much time for these days. I'm too busy grooming my ego. Giving it a sponge bath, combing its hair, brushing its teeth, and dressing it properly for public venues takes up a lot of my time. Feeding time is always a lot easier, as we always go out for my ego's dinner. For those of you who read my drivel, we thank you. For those of you who actively avoid reading this drivel, sorry you're not here to see me thank you in writing for filling up my ego's realization of importance.

The way I was raised, was to be told how things were. Do this, don't do that. If I failed to adhere to the directives handed down from the Evil Duane, other adults, coaches, or other authority figures, I was given more than just an earful. And, if I cried in self pity about getting into trouble I was given yet another earful about knocking it off.

I was razzed by friends and those who weren't on a regular basis, and reciprocated on an equal or greater value. It forced a lot of us to grow some thicker skin. After all, you can't be seen as weak, especially as a boy, or it will only get worse. So pretty much any amount of nastiness sent my way rolls right off my back. (Unless its from my wife, in which case, its a penetrating laser beam of "I'm gonna $^&* you up now!" going right through my skull. Of course this invites me to defend myself the only way I know how....Spousal abuse. She needs a good beat down about once a week or so for getting out of line. If you're still reading this, please dial 911 and report a homicide, because she reads this too and the last line will result in my death. I live at....)

As such nastiness may roll off my back, depending on my mood and the person, I will either ignore it, or shoot my mouth off right back at them with an overly sarcastic tone. Once the exchange is over with, I'm pretty much over it and have already moved on with my life. If they are hurt by my words or tone of my voice, well, that's their problem. And to them I say, get over it, grow a thicker layer of skin and move on. To me, it has all become quite impersonal, and is merely situationally relevant. When I'm at work, and a coworker is being stupid I will not hesitate to say so, and i will not hide any disgust in my voice while talking with them. If it is a situation in which they have no experience, I will walk them through it without any angst towards them. However if it is something routine, and they start whining or bitching, well...Call me Mr Sarcastic Jackass, Esquire. Again, it is nothing personal against the person (unless it happens repeatedly and I determine the person is just a moron). I merely feel the need to get the venting out of the way, and hopefully my gripe will be enough motivation to not screw things up, if for no other reason than to avoid a bath by my acidic tongue. Basically the message is, you're an adult, buck up/sack up and do your job. I will not hesitate to pull anyone's Man Card, and publicly if necessary. But if I see this person at the shop or anywhere else, I can easily carry on a conversation like nothing ever happened. Unless of course, they are the aforementioned moron, in which case, watch what you say, I may throw it back in your face.

So I have this friend, we'll call him Mr A, who manages at a call center. He came in one day and asked the manager who had presided on duties about some certain shortfalls in reaching their numbers that occurred prior to his arrival. Pretty much an innocent question, just merely wondering in case the big bosses wants some answers when they get in. The other manager, we'll call him Mr D, made some explanation that sounded more like an excuse, given previous situations had occurred in not so great an atmosphere and performed immensely better than this current debacle. Well, Mr D, somehow got offended by the line of questioning from my friend, and tried to drag the big boss into the whole ordeal. He also proceeded to tell my friend, after not receiving a satisfactory answer from the big boss, to not talk with him unless it was business related. So I guess jovialness was now out of the question amongst work peers.

Now, without trying to defend Mr D, I can see how he might take things Mr A says the wrong way. He (Mr A)is a go-getter type and generally commands the respect of his employees, and makes quite clear what he expects of them. He is not one to pull punches, and can be rather intimidating at times to anyone with a less strong personality. (on a related previous note...if he gets that way with me, I'll beat him like I do my wife for getting out of line). While Mr A has a good grasp on people skills and how to use them, once in awhile when he gets going and doesn't take the time to think a statement through and how it might be perceived by the other person, he can quickly offend someone, but totally unintentionally. He merely puts things out there the way he sees things and how they need to be taken care of, solicited or not.

However, in this case, it appears that Mr D has a fragile ego, low self-esteem, or some kind of guilty conscience for failing to manage properly. I don't honestly know. But after having heard what was said, my advice to Mr D would be to reach down between his legs, grab his sack to reassure himself that he is a man, and get over it. If he finds there is no sack for him to grab, well he should rub some salve on his mangina and get over it. Hopefully he does this in a private manner, because to do it out in the open would just be a little weird, especially in a professional office environment. Anyways Mr D- Move on, and don't worry about a situation more than it needs to be worried about. And instead of acting like a child tattling to his babysitter that so and so was mean to him, man up and deal with your own mental issues.

Everyone gets so offended these days and takes everything so personally. To them I say, swallow your shallow false pride and get over yourselves. Inevitably most of what you worry about you can't do a damn thing about, and that which you can deal with, most of it doesn't matter in the big picture anyways. And if you find yourself in my cross hairs calling you a retard or questioning your sexual orientation, its a figure of speech...don't go barking up some special interest group's tree trying to make a big deal out of it.

Quantum Theory Has The Cubs Winning the World Series

Now, maybe I don't have a firm grasp on everything there is to know in this universe of ours. I know what you're thinking. Mookie DOESN'T know everything? Yes, hard t believe but true. And part of that reason is any subject that began with the word "quantum" generally sent me into my own little world to ignore a subject that more theory than possibly conflicting facts.

I now believe in Quantum something or another Theory. I have decided, after working last night, that somewhere in an alternate universe, the Chicago Cubs did in fact win the Wolrd Series. How do I know this. Because Hell Has Frozen Over in Iowa!

Not only did we get more snow in one storm system than we have had since 1996, (we had 16 inches dumped on us), but the temperatures dropped into single digits with windchills WAY below zero. The wind was gusting between 45 and 60 miles per hour, creating white out conditions. And not just regular white out like you use on paper, and can see the mistake...this was Super White Out. It erased the front end of my patrol car from visibility altogether. Recently plowed roads were re-covered by a big blanket of white blown back ontot he roadway by the highg winds...most multilane roads had one driveable path, and if it was a two way road....well let's just say that thanks to a big tractor looking snowplow who refused to hold up until I could get around a big drift that erased part of the road, I became stuck...100 feet from the building my work is located in, and 400 feet from the building that I was responding to an alarm at. Naturally noone was available to help a rentacop out. so, I ran (and by run I mean in slowmo as I bounded through drift after drift like some sort of sled dog with only 2 legs) to the shop grabbed a shovel and proceeded to scoop my patrol car free. In the process I could barely see the car I was scooping free, and simultaneously trying to remain in position to do the job as th wind tried to blow my butt across the road. My already cold legs that had been exposed to lots of snow from earlier events, were now being windburned THROUGH my pants. Already exposed to moisture and frozen half solid, this was not good. I'm pretty sure I died from exposure...twice.

To back up a bit....I got up in plenty of time to go to work, but i spent ten minutes getting unstuck from my parking spot here at home. I make it to the shop..well the south entrance to the parking lot, and spend 20 minutes digging my way out of that with an ice scraper of all things. I go to the north entry, get stuck there, and it was an hour after I originally got on scene before my car was rescued and allowed to be parked in the lot behind our work garage. I braved the treacherous roads, and was forced to do more drive-by checks than actual lot patrols at many of my accounts as there was NO way to access the property without getting stuck again, and I'll be damned if they pay me enough to bound through nut-high snow drifts in single digit temperatures just to walk around a building while I risk my patrol car getting bashed up or buried by the DOT snow plows going up and down the mai roads in fruitless efforts to keep them open even a little bit.

I made a few extra efforts to make a more complete job at properties, btu most of it was simply driving the roads around them and making sure there was nothing visibly wrong with the places. Then at about 4am, I get a call to go to a residential house buried deep in the heart of residential development and about 6 or 7 blocks from any main road. I made it down the side street that intersected the street I was looking for. Then I humped it the 75 yards through snow and high winds blasting my face just to walk around a house that has been drifted shut, and showed no signs of entry. the alarm were interior motion alarms, no perimeters. I leave, I manage to get back to the main road and on my way....20 minutes later, I get teh call for the same place, same alarm. The homeowner is in Denver, and insists we re-check the place. All I have to say is the only way someone was going to burgle that house was to come up from underground and drill through the slab underneath. So back I go down the side road that hasn't seen a plow in probably 8 hours or more, hike through the snow to their house where I could hike through more snow and find out that there still was nothing wrong with their place. I told the alarm dispatch compnay representative that the resident owes me a christmas present for that kind of service...with a tow ban in effect, had I gotten stuck down in that neighborhood, well, lets just say it would be tomorrow or the next day before they would be allowed to come rescue me.

After that all was well...for awhile. I ate breakfast INSIDE the Mcdonald's where they had a cleared out parking lot. I needed to warm up and relax for a bit. Then I got called for 2 different alarms.....on the way to the second one was when I got stuck, as described above, by the shop. Then, my relief got his personal car stuck outside his driveway. I had to go pick him up. I got the patrol car stuck around the corner and a half block down from his place....more shoveling. I will be the first guy who dies of a hernia and a heart attack at the age of 30, along with hypothermia and some frostbite. This is honestly what I was thinking during this shoveling incident. But, we got out, got him to work. I shoveled my personal car out of its spot behind the shop so I could come home. I get on the road out to the main artery, where I got stuck again in the plow slushed mess. I used my cold wet booted feet as the shovel to kick everything out of the way, so my little car could actually get moving. Didn't matter at that point, I was ready to amputate with or without anesthesia anytime. My feet felt like blocks of ice, or frozen clubfoot.

The low fuel light was on. So I had to baby the car to the nearest accessible gas station. As I pull in, I see two guys stalking me. One with a camera, the other with a microphone. Having been, what I can assume was fully rested over the night while I worked, they came up and asked to interview me about my night and the weather.

You see, I really am that important. The local metro news needs MY opinion. However, I do have a face built for radio, and a voice for silent movies. I suspect any mention of me might be my name, and a recapping of my comments by the reporter with his pretty little made-for-tv face.

But now, it is time to warm my innards with coffee, and my feet somehow. In the army, they always taught us to put our cold hands either in our armpits or crotch to avoid frostbite and exposure issues, since those two areas are teh warmest on our bodies. I contemplated this with my feet, then realized I'm not that flexible to begin with, and there is no way that could be comfortable even if I did manage to cram my feet into my armpits or crotch like some advanced yoga pose.

I expect better working conditions tonight, or I just may quit. Should've listened to my wife and just stayed home from work last night. I blame my dad for instilling such a sense of responsibility in me...damn him anyways!

Short History of Warfare and Its Contemporary Failure

I'm looking at what should be a pretty complex issue, however as usual I will most likely ovrsimplify things, for easier writing and easier comprehension of the basic points I'll be making (a tactic that can often be mistaken-sometimes correctly- for me not wanting to melt my brain with hard thinking) today.

"War's very object is victory, not prolonged indecision. In war, there is no substitute for victory" --General Douglas MacArthur

The quote seems simple enough, as it should be. Most things in this world are simple, until someone with a more than just an ounce of intelligence starts scrutinizing them and pondering enough scenarios to fill a library, along with those who choose to counter with their own thoughts. The human mind is capable of a lot, which has led to much good, much bad, and much ugly things in our world.

War fits the latter two categories. War is very often the result of disagreements over simple things. One man disparages another man's ego, and suddenly a duel is in place for them to settle their differences, no matter how many people are dragged into their conflict, willingly or otherwise. Rhetoric is ratcheted up on both sides, in the hopes of compelling others of their own righteousness, and possible allies in their "fight against evil."

War and Politics have been intertwined with each other since the invention of both. In the beginning, politics often led to war. Then the armies fought it out, with total victory in mind. While politics played a role int he war, it was often mere infighting as to who got to do what, and who gets credit for this or that. But neither side ever deviated from the main goal, which was to dominate and eliminate the enemy until the point of surrendering. Many times, the same war was fought between the same opponents, multiple times, with just a different name assigned to each particular conflict. While armies decimated each other, it was a back and forth of unsettled politics between the foes, with certain stretches of 'peace' between the events.

One example of this would be the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. American authorities and British authorities had squabbles, first resulting in the war for our Independence. Later, political and economic reasons, led us back into war with the British. Since that point, both countries have gotten along for the most part, keeping a more peaceful temperament with each other. There are of course, thousands of other examples, such as European Empires fighting back and forth over the centuries, but I'm not going to muddy the waters by including each and every one of them.

You look at politics even in the Civil War. Politicians shaped the arguments, engaged the people, next thing you know, America is imploding on itself in all out war. Strategy was largely determined by generals. Occasionally the Commanders-in-Chief would step in if a general wasn't doing his job, which was create victories. Lincoln was forced to re-assign, or outright remove many generals for their failures, ineptitudes, or downright unwillingness to take the fight to the enemy on multiple occasions, but we wont get into specifics on that today.

The last "conventional war' that was ever really fought, at least as far as American involvement goes, was World War 2. Armies were identified with clear distinction, and the name of the game was killing the enemy and taking land, chunk by chunk, until the enemy surrendered. Even within this war, political infighting was apparent within the ranks of any given country's military and government, as well as between nations and their allies. But, as I mentioned earlier, in the end, the goal was clear. Tactics and basic strategy may have changed, depending on the situation on the ground, but the overall strategy was simple: Defeat the enemy everywhere you meet him, and drive him back to his home. He can choose die or to surrender. There are NO other underlying circumstances to be optioned. You send out your soldiers to win the war, so they can come home.

Well, World War 2's ending saw something a bit different than that. After victory was declared, many nations' armies occupied enemy territory even as peace was assumed. Two superpowers emerged in the world. First was America, who had helped greatly the efforts of Europe to get out of the Nazi chokehold, while also battling the Japanese on the other side of the world. Second was Russia, who depsite losing tens of millions of soldiers, had kept Germany from expanding its control over them, and helping the allies make headway into Europe by obliging Hitler's attempt at a two front war. Disagreements were rampant between the allies and the Soviets over who got control of where, and a nearly 45 year standoff ensued known as the Cold War.

Enter Politics not only as the decider of when war would be waged, but where it would be engaged, how it would be fought, and to what extent it would be fought. The world was suddenly divided into two camps. You either supported America and Capitalism, or the Soviets and the Communist form of government and economics. True, some countries essentially tried to stay out of the mess, but the majority of countries around the globe found themselves tied more to one side or the other. Again this is a vast oversimplification. If you want a lot more intricate detail, you can find a wealth of knowledge from a fellow blogger, Scott, over at http://scotterb.wordpress.com.

America soon adopted a foreign policy that was designed around the idea of stopping the spread of communism, whereever in the world it may show its face. Our next major conflict found American forces in Korea. The Korean peninsula divided itself up. You had the communist regime controlling the north supported by the Chinese, while leadership in the south attempted to avoid communism, enlisting the help of America to repel communist forces. It was a drawn out conflict, which technically still exists today. Peace is fragile under a truce, as neither side could force the other side to surrender, and technically the two sides remain at war. While militarily the war could have been won, politics played a major role in deciding just how far American forces would go. For all the sabre-rattling America did as a government in response to the "communist threat", she did not wish to fully engage China or Russia into the war. The threat of nuclear war was always there, as the Soviets had developed their own arsenal in response to America's nuclear capabilities (and history of use at the end of WWII), and neither side wanted to test the resolve of the other. Evnetually the 38th parallel was drawn as the dividing line, and the Korean peninsula remains divided to this day.

Years later, after Vietnam had won its independence from France, America had its own advisors in the south of Vietnam, helping fight and train with their armies, while Ho Chi Minh led a communist movement from the north. Minh' splan was to keep Vietnam unified under a communist banner. America and the south Vietnamese were determined to repel the communists.

While guerilla warfare has always been used in conjunction with conventional war tactics, this was the first war in which America found itself on the opposite end of a well sustained guerilla movement. American forces were harassed daily by guerilla forces consisting not only of regular army units, but iregular units as well. And interesting turning of the tables, considering these tactics were used successfully by the Americans in their own war for independence from Britain. While taking massive casualties through this long drawn out war, the American forces had successfully repelled guerilla attacks as well as win every major military engagement during this time. However, politics was playing a heavy hand in this engagement. American Commander of the Army, General William Westmoreland, asked for and received the troops he asked for to fight this war. Militarily we had the ability to engage the enemy and drive them back to Hanoi. Politically, we were not willing to do so, give the possibility of threat from the Chinese and the Soviets, and what that meant as far as possible large scale war again.

And so today we look at current American war zones, Iraq and Afghanistan. Militarily winnable wars. However, we have also engaged a multitude of other objectives, such as the spreading of democracy, stability of the governments and the regions as a whole, and I'm sure a host of other things, that Scott can go into more detail about.

These days, almost no war is winnable under the whole sense. No country seems to be willing to define just what victory is (Hat tip to Classicliberal2 for pointing that out. Note, this link wil take you to his blog, not the specific comment. He's very smart, and write's well thought out commentary. Despite he and I often disagreeing on most things political, its a good conversation and learning experience)
Victory these days, is so multi-sided that we send off our soldiers to go fight battle after battle, usually with no idea what the actual goal is. I mean sure, from the young soldiers perspective, go find and kill the enemy. But the macro scale of what the war is about, or what defines victory is often shielded from or completely incomprehensible to the common soldier.

And to a certain extent, I think that part of the PTSD we see in soldiers these days is the direct result of constant political shifting of the winds in regards the war (and not necessarily our ability to diagnose it better than in the past). A soldier fights small and large battles, but with no clear direction on where to go. The mission changes every day, victory is either not defined very clearly, or defined at all, bsides some vagueries thrown out by the higher ups. And sometimes I wonder if THEY even know what the overall objective is.

There is a lot of conjecture on both sides (pro- and anti-war) as to why we are in Iraq and Afghanistan. Iraq is winding down, we hope. Afghanistan is heating up again, after what seemed to be a long time stuck in a holding pattern. Some wish we'd pull out immediately, which comes with serious political implications. Others say we ought to throw more soldiers (which the President has decided to do on a smaller scale) at the effort there in Afghanistan (which also has serious political implications).

These days, the idea of a pure war do not exist. They are entirely too intertwined with politics, which are often filled with a whole lot of 'what-ifs" to function as they were intended. Which really makes it a disgrace and a show of dishonor to our troops to send them places to do things to which there is no real end game. We send them off to foreign lands to either babysit, or to inflict, view and experience death on a daily basis, only to someday bring the live ones back, and having accomplished nothing but the shedding of some blood. Also to is the concept of fighting a moral war, that somehow we can change the rules of engagement to make it somehow better. This can only be accomplished in the circles of theoretical, but misguided minds.

As a military history buff, and a former member of the military, I make it my official position that unless we can define our goals and just what victory is, our government has no business sending our troops anywhere. Let them stay here in the states and territories with their families, ready to defend our own citizens, until a clear need to dispatch them away to far off lands actually arises, and then, and only then, with a clear plan in place for the military to do what it does best.
If we adhere to such standards, I think that the relatively few wars we would actually engage in would be far more supported by the people here at home, which in turn would make it a less politically divisive issue to tear each other and our leaders at the time down.

Facebook-Suicide Link

Increased rates in mental illness and the rise of social networking sites appear to go hand in hand. First there was MySpace. Get a bunch of friends, one person says something that offends their 'friend'. Then the blogs, comments, and messages between these parties and their friends goes berserk. It's a virtual snipefest, just like the good old days when I was in school, and little cliques would form, so people could sneer and snarl at each other while attempting to spread rumors and make themselves look like they have the high moral ground with all their friends. But everything was face to face sooner or later. Not some anonymous postings on random internet forums.

Yes, Myspace is just like high school. Populated with 14 year old girls, or at least people with the same mentality as 14 year old girls. Full disclosure notice...I am not ashamed to admit I have a myspace site still. I am still a kid at heart and have no problem with meaningless conversations or blog reading over stuff that is even sillier than this crap I write.

But then came the college level of social networking. Facebook (motto: We have more people than the planet Earth) emerges. Some of us grew up, and can show an ounce of maturity when interacting online. Relationships are more easily tracked and people grow close. Then, some dumb rumor gets floating around, or some snide comment is made and people de-friend each other again. Only, instead of chalking it up to simple high school moronism, it is much harsher on the psyches of these social networking geniuses. They can hide behind their computer screen and pretend to be okay, but honestly, they are emotionally wounded. Just now, unlike back in the school days, you aren't forced to show your emotions. Why? Because you're sitting in your living room, or office or wherever behind a friggin computer screen. you can type anything you want, shielded from the atrocities that your words can cause. But the person on the other end knows the hurt all too well.

Being an ego-controlled heartless bastard, I am immune to these things. I couldn't care less what the people at some other IP address think about what I have to say. Not to say that I don't appreciate the kind comments and intriguing positions of commenters here on this blog, or anywhere else for that matter. But if someone truly has a problem with what I have said, well, that's their problem. They can either deal with, get thicker skin and deal with it that way, or they can just go away and leave me to my own little world over here. Either way, I don't care.

But not everyone is like me. You see, I have this coworker. We'll call him Irish, to protect his real identity which is Trevor McCarthy. Oops, blew that one. Anyways, he gets bored at work and likes to call me to have random discussions about whatever comes up that evening. But last week he had to train a guy for 2 days and then took two days off. He didn't get to talk to me much more than say 5 or 10 minutes. Then, after he finished his days off, it was my turn to take a couple days off. Which meant more time for him to not be able to talk to me. I can see how this would take a toll on his mentality and emotions. For he is a strange individual, and yet extremely in touch with his feminine side, in that he needs to talk on the phone all the time. Anyone who knows me, knows I hate the phone. However, my ego, having sympathy for those who can't help their pathetically inferior lifeforms, entertains his whims so I talk with him. As long as it doesn't interfere with my work, so be it.

Trevor had acquired himself a Facebook profile and had 'friended' me. Everyday a new comment from him would show up. Then a friend of his enjoyed the commentary and decided I was fun and cool or something ridiculous like that. I am not fun, nor cool. I'm merely so mysteriously fascinating, that they couldn't help but be drawn to me and figure out just how such a brilliant mind like mine works. (Hey, it isn't bragging if it's the truth!) So Irish's friend decides to be my Facebook friend as well. Then, less than 48 hours later, I noticed signs that pointed to a life changing emergency.

My email inbox notified me of a comment from Irish. I deleted the notification and would read it when I logged into the Facebook. So I get to Facebook, and look for the comment, but it is nowhere to be found. In fact, Irish is no longer on the Facebook at all. Gone from my friends list, my friends' friend lists, and after doing a search, he was completely erased from the world of Facebook. So I wondered to myself..okay I was talking to myself, all 23 of me...what had happened. Had my brilliance just been so intimidating that he had decided he had to limit his exposure to me merely to our late night phone conversations? Maybe, maybe not. But then I noticed, that my new friend....his friend that thought I was fun...was also no longer on my friend list. Well, this boggles my mind.

I call Irish's phone, to see what had gone wrong. It immediately went to voicemail. I leave a message to call me. He had worked the night before, so maybe he was sleeping. But then later that night when he should've been going to work, I still had not received a call back. Something was clearly wrong. You just do NOT ignore the Mook. The Mook can ignore you, but it doesn't work the other way.

Anyways, I checked published works on social media as found in the James Institute of Medicine's Journal of Faux Medical Conditions, and found a Facebook-Suicide link. You can read more about it right here. It seems, that people with Facebook profiles who become suicidal do things in steps. It starts with erasing their facebook profile. After all, if one does not feel worthy of existing in this world, why would they allow themselves to continue an existence in the virtual world and close knit community of Facebook. The next step, for cellphone users is to shut off their phone. For they have no reason to await any messages from anyone. That, and in their sadistic minds, it gives detectives something else to investigate. All good detectives have to check the phone records in case one of the callers is somehow connected to the suicide...or the murder made to look like a suicide. And also, it may help to determine the timeline of when the person left their mortal world.

So, not having a Facebook page at all, my ego naturally jumped to the conclusion that Irish must've killed himself. As for the other friend, in a petty way of dealing with Irish's sudden death, decided that if she couldn't be his friend, than she couldn't be my friend either. That's just the way things work. Now I know what you're thinking. This guy is off his rocker. That's just not anywhere in the neighborhood of rational thinking. And to that I say, "I never said my ego was rational, it's just all powerful. Just because you don't understand it and find it odd, doesn't mean that my mind isn't functioning properly. I just see the pre-formed conclusions and work my logic back later to make it fit.

Turns out that Irish had not committed suicide. Someone somehow hacked his account, and there was a big mess, and he terminated it, and got himself a new page. Now you're thinking, "But Mook, if your thought process and ego is all powerful, how could it be as wrong as it was?"

Well, it wasn't wrong. You're lucky it doesn't smite you for questioning its grand authority. Clearly Irish did commit suicide of a virtual nature when he killed his Facebook page. He shut off his cellphone. The next step was obvious, but my ego in its infinite wisdom intervened, and made him go take a nap instead of killing himself. It works in mysterious ways, and I can't fully explain it to you. As for the other friend, no longer being my friend, she had assumed the worst between Irish and I and de-friended me as a sign of solidarity with him. Pure defense mechanism stuff, which is all easily explainable in the worlds of psychology and sociology. But he is back and she is back, and my Facebook friends list has been re-populated to its old numbers. Which is a good thing. Had I been a normal person like you, it might have caused me to go get depressed, delete my Facebook page, go shut someone else's cellphone off (I don't own one), and then gone and killed myself....of course, only if my ego didn't interfere and spare my life. I couldn't afford to test the theory out twice in 2 days.

Halloween Weekend- The good and the bad

So this Halloween brought a mixture of good and bad in a variety of areas. So, let's take a look at them.

College Football

Good: The Iowa Hawkeyes made an amazing comeback in the 4th quarter to win and maintain their perfect season, allowing them to stay at #4 in the BCS ratings

Bad: Oklahoma State couldn't take down the powerful Texas program, that would've allowed Iowa to move up, and whittle down potential national championship pairings.


NFL

Good: The Green Bay Packers lost (I've hated the team for years!)
Bad: Brett Favre won (I've hated him just as much as the Packers, his old team, for years)

Good: My 49ers broke Peyton Manning's streak of games in which he throws a touchdown pass
Bad: Indy still won, because their RUNNING BACK threw the go ahead/winning touchdown pass.

Work

Bad: I had to work a 12 hour shift. A 12 hour shift that was actually 13 hours long, because of the time changing back to standard time. I only get paid for 12.

Good: I didn't have a single disturbance or alarm to screw up my night the entire time, so it was a peaceful shift.

Trick-or-treating

Good: Kids went out for candy here on Friday night, and Sac City at my folks on Saturday night. I reap the rewards without the work, two times! Josh went as Darth Vader, Buggy as Storm Shadow from G.I. Joe (not sure about the kung fu grip on this occasion!)

Bad: No one around to amuse me on Saturday or Sunday. Realization that for the best treat-fare, I have to get access to the small town, and not just down the street.

Friends' Adoption Fundraising

Good: They raised some good cash towards their goal, along with help from friends and family. See here for more information on how that went.

Bad: No one showed up with an extra $5-10,000 to boost their efforts over the top. Oh well.

Idiot Flips His Lid, I Lose A Day Off!

I have recently begun receiving Saturday and Sunday Nights off. While we have almost completely lost overtime in the Patrol Division of my security company, it is nice to at least get to be home on those days when my wife and kids are home for full days. Saturdays, like any first day off for a 3rd shifter, are long. I get home at 8am, and rarely bother with a nap, so that I might be able to do something here at home, and then go to bed that night like a regular person.

This last weekend was no different. I did catch a short nap, sort of, as I went in and out of consciousness with a football game playing on the TV. No big deal. Sunday I got up, went to church, came home, watched football and was hanging out while waiting for my wife to make supper for the family. At about 6pm, the phone rings, and my caller ID says its my boss. Part of me holds out hope that he's just calling me to tell me some really great story, or ask me some dumb question that even someone of my diminished mental capacity can answer.

"What're you doing tonight?" is the first question. This very question almost verbatim every time he calls me, is code for "I have work for you tonight."

So he offers me 3 options. Option #1 is to tell him to take a flying leap, I'm staying home tonight. Option #2 is to work 8pm to 6am patrolling Wells Fargo Properties. Option #3 is to do my normal patrol route on the 8pm-8am shift, and the guy who would have worked it, will do the WF patrols. Naturally, knowing the pecking order around here, I tell my wife what my boss is telling me. She immediately authorizes the 8p-8a shift. It was almost too quick. I suspect she holds weekend keggars after the kids go to bed whenever I have to work. Her new promotion has had her dealing with a few stressful situations (which cause amusing snafus with the voicemail setup at her work!!), so maybe she really is going to blow some of that steam off...right after I get my butt to work.

So, I agree to work, as a good husband who listens to his wife would do. Then I think to ask, what's up with the Overtime I'm being offered here. I would've said no, but with the Holidays coming up we need the money (read: my wife needs the money to go buy the gifts, and attach my name to them later).

From what I understand, (and mind you I only have half a story, as a lowly little peon in the company) is that some guy calls up on a blocked number to Wells Fargo, on the same line for local area customers, as opposed to a general national number, and starts wigging out. Apparently Wells Fargo appraised his property and he didn't like the figures. And I guess this warrants telling them essentially to "eat shit and die" (or something similar), and "they're gonna pay for this", along with, "this will be the kind of shit that you'll see on CNN" (again paraphrasing similarly aligned comments).

Some companies just dismiss anything and everything coming from the outside world (read: customers), and other companies hear a few keywords and freak out. I guess, and this is my opinion, that Wells Fargo deemed this as a threat along the lines of a big shootout or a bombing of buildings or something. So they call up our company, who does their security around these parts, and ask for extra protection at all their buildings in the metro area. We have guards in all these buildings, buildings that have cameras all over the place, and many have roving patrol presence anyways, but we have now stepped it up. More patrolmen, including patrols from our esteemed manager on duty, are there to save Wells Fargo from any doomsday prophecies being carried out by an irate customer over a phone line.

So naturally, my boss knows I like to have a little overtime, and he knows that whatever role I'm in, I'll do a good job. (Proof is that I was Rentacop of the Year, 2 years in a row....a made up award upon which I'm one of the few permanent voting committee members!) I enjoyed the opportunity to make some more money and see my paycheck almost approach the point where the boss actually pays me, instead of me giving him $15.47 contributions for the pleasure of laboring for him. But at the same time, I kind of hated to give my day off up, especially since I had gotten up before 9am, and wouldn't see any chance for sleep until after 8am the following morning.

So Black Sentinel since you requested it, that's my story. You may have some idiot readers at your blog, but I have to put up with the potential for idiots who honestly think they have time for shenanigans in the real world (which make me actually have to work and pay attention at the same time, which is blasphemous thinking in my book!), when they should be busy reading and leaving stupid comments on OUR blogs!!!

MIA: Mookie’s Tidbits to catch you up

Okay, so most of you know that We here in the Mookiefied Compound have undergone and survived one of the most hideous scenarios life can throw at us. Victims of a limited Nuclear Strike? NO. Attacked by a gaggle of venomous ducks in our sleep? Getting warmer, but no. H1N1 Flu takeover within the walls of the compound? I think it was trying, but No.
No, it was even more devastating than that:
That’s right…computer meltdown. After a few years of hearing advertisements about avoiding data loss in the event the computer shows us the “blue screen of death” by using their hard drive backup systems, we finally saw it….and without hard drive backup. Material for 2 different books, contact information for everyone we know, 6,700+ photos taken over many years…all gone. The ability to procrastinate real priorities by submersing ourselves into the internet news sites and blogs for information and entertainment, or playing dumb games like MafiaWars on the FaceBook… God please don’t take these options away from us!

Luckily, I, General Mook, being the great and resourceful leader that I am, had already procured the means to overcome this issue. Yes, I married a woman, who has an aunt and uncle who are computer geniuses. (What a strategic alliance I made!!!) The motherboard was in fact fried, more so than the Colonel’s Secret Recipe. And by Colonel, I mean Sanders…not my cat. However…all that information and all those memories taking shape in photos…RECOVERED!!!

So, today, I bring you fine readers a collection of headlines of events that have gone down over this time period of absence. If you find a topic you’d like to see more detail on, out of this list, merely make the request in the comment section.

1. Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell’s request for an XO denied.

While skimming thru the paper, I saw the Animal Rescue League page…there was a cat, already named Major pictured there. The General’s wife vetoed this option faster than the General could pass on the request.


2. Buggy’s Book of Digestive Biology Expands

Following his previously published comments of food melting into poop, Dr. Buggy now explains how chili and my digestive system work all the way to the end where the black beans committed suicide.

3. Mook And John Wayne Shoot a Movie Together, Scuffle Ensues

So, once in awhile I have some weird dreams. But hey, I got to be in
A movie with my favorite movie hero, and we end up in a fight even though it was some other idiot that pissed the Duke off.

4. Idiot Flips his lid, makes more work for me.

Some moron phoned Wells Fargo, made big threats and I get called in on my day off. I have mixed feelings about this.

5. 49ers Sports Update

I miss the 49ers get their first shutout of the season against an admittedly horrible St Louis Rams team; the following week, the 49ers apparently missed their own game (at home!), forcing Coach Singletary to hire stunt doubles at the last moment to take on the Atlanta Falcons.

6. Boy comes home sick, H1N1 tries to kill him; father instead chooses
to kill boy with board games.

So the oldest son comes home not feeling well, running a fever, and gives himself a 3 day holiday in advance of the impending 3 day weekend. 6 days off, in a row?? For a fever? Oh well. Was it H1N1? Probably not, but even if it was, all anyone needs is for my immune system to be in the same general area, and any sickness will meet its own grim destiny. So, the boy… he wants me to play games with him while we’re stuck at home. First its checkers…victory: DAD. Chess is semi-taught to the boy upon request: victory: DAD. Then the boy wants to learn the game of Stratego. I try to teach him, but he really should warm up for this game with lesser players until he gets the hang of things. I have never been defeated in this game…and I mean NEVER…needless to say, this streak is still going strong. I have my first serious challenge coming up over Christmas. I have a date with demoralizing a certain rocket scientist I call my brother-in-law.

7. Backyard Football Hero Still Golden, Even as Golden Years Threaten To Approach

I wasn’t the oldest guy out there. The guy downstairs who is almost old enough to be my dad was out playing with us, despite having thrown his shoulder out prior to any games. We played two-hand touch. Partially for him, and partially for a couple little kids who aren’t as excited about the violent prone sport of football. In what can only be described as a magnificent-but-beautiful failure, I showed why coming out of retirement for Neighborhood Football was a great idea. I ran myself into a corner where a big old bush cut me off. I was tagged out in mid leap, but I cleared that bush entirely and landed on a much lower altitude of ground on the other side and rolled over a sidewalk. I’ll feel that for days, but it showed I still have great athletic prowess. Later in the week, we played tackle football, which included kids who were presumably in shape and of the mid-teen age range. While that kid scored a few times, I once again, in Favre-like fashion, drove my team down for score after score after score.

8. Wife gets promoted

Yeah so she gets promoted..yeah I know...AGAIN! what a showoff! And in the process of getting set up she has to have her own phone put in....they activate a phone for her...only not the one in her little cube office....just some phone on the floor, which leads to a nice little treasure hunt. She finds phone, sets up voicemail, and in the process of it all spills coffee, and leaves a greeting for callers that calls them out with an expletive...


So yeah, that's the basics of what happened. Again, if you want more detail, please vote for what you want to see posted in its entirety, in the comment section.

Society vs. The Individual

First off, no this isn't political. It's just some observations noted from comments by another blogger Scott on some posts I read, as well as a conversation I had over the weekend with a good friend of mine.

Scott and I have traded comments on other blogs considering the issue of strength of personality and manliness today versus that of previous generations. When it comes to issues of being stronger willed and more mechanically adept I have always come down on the side of older generations, who I felt were able to deal with physical hardships that came with a pre-modern society. They were able to fix things up, like vehicles and houses with a certain sense of efficiency coupled with necessity, as they didn't have the money to throw away the broken, nor the will to waste anything. Today, we have products manufactured with so much electronic equipment to tally up calculations and/or run our daily lives. Scott has countered that while some physical labors were mastered more by those generations than the current, social influences, including global communications, information exchange, and a litany of societal needs and pressures are probably far more complicated for the older generation than the younger. And in itself, the young mind is better at shifting its adaptations to constant change whereas a man of the depression era would pretty much break down mentally, not being able to adapt. (not exactly his words, but a personal characterization of his thoughts) To an effect, it is hard to remain statically 'real' in this everchanging world of ours, and for those of us who are somewhat set in our ways, it can make life difficult. But no worries, if we start feeling overwhelmed or bad about things, we always have the latest pharmaceutical to re-balance our brain chemistry!

Today, you find endless opinions abounding from every Tom, Dick, and Harry in your life. You should do this, don't do that, whatever. Anyways, my friend, Adam called with a question as to what he should be doing with his life at this moment. And of course, you all know me, I have tons of antiquated and personally biased advice to hand out with or without being asked. The sooner you all listen to me, the better my world will be! HA!

Adam has had a lifelong dream of learning the martial arts of all varieties, and eventually opening up his own dojo to teach others the same disciplines. In the course of some of his training, he has met up with a lot of people from the police department in his area. All are saying he would be a good fit for the department. With his size, strength and go-get-em attitude they say make a perfect candidate for him joining the force. However in this area, Philadelphia, cops getting shot apparently is a semi-regular event, and he has heard the same officers who have been trying to recruit him, echanging stories of this officer or that officer from whichever precinct having either been killed or wounded in action.

With certain financial responsibilities for his cousins in his care, he looks at the financial aspect of things, as the officers tell him, that the dpeartment will pay for his training academy time (along with the paycheck) and he would be starting out at around $60,000 per annum. He has money coming in, but its more of a money in-money out situation, and the police paycheck would greatly help out in that arena. At the same time, if he takes on the police duties he has to put his dream on hold that much longer, and to boot, he hadn't really considered being a police officer that high on his priority list. He was looking at the money now, versus happiness later, if he survived it all in the first place.

I too, in my security gig, have faced pressure to change my position at times. I have had my supervisors trying to get me to be a supervisor when an opening had arrived. I looked at the money and initially thought that things would be much easier with my pay going up by a prety high percentage. But, at the same time, it would have bought me less sleep, or higher child care bills that would cancel out a large portion of that pay increase. I would also be looking at a lot more stress than my current position gives me.

I think part of the pressure to change wasn't selfless on the part of the people doing the recruiting. Like a military recruiter, there's always a benefit to the person trying to talk you into it, whether its money or personal. For Adam's situation, I don't know about money going into these officer's pockets, but the knowledge that they might have a good fitted person that may end up being their partner and someone they know they can trust to back them up from the get go. In my case, as one of my supervisors put it at the time, he would have less to worry about when he wasn't working because he knows I would do the job much better than some other possible applicants. Not that I don't mind helping this supervisor out, he is a great friend of mine on top of being my boss, but the stress that comes with the job and my inherent need for underlings to operate in a very exact manner of my expectations would only further complicate my life.

I find that oftentimes as persons, we see ourselves doing one thing or another, despite our strengths and weaknesses, because thats where see ourselves. And then you have outsiders (society) who see us in a certain way, whether by our decision on how and what to expose ourselves to them, or by some potential they see in us. It might be for our own benefit, theirs or both. Its hard to say. But as I said before, EVERYONE has their opinions of what one should do, and a certain segment of those who will push and push and push to coerce you into following their plan for you.

In this day in age, a lot of people let the money do the talking, and worry about consequences later. But sometimes, you have to wonder if the money is worth it, worth sacrificing yourself and your dreams to do some job or career that you don't really care for, just because the money will be there NOW, instead of passing on it and seeing how your preferred option might take you through life.

Don't mind me, just some of the wierd stuff that passes through my mind in this complicated world. Personally I'd like to go back a few decades when it all seemed a whole lot simpler. Which begs me to ask...back then was real life like a sitcom, where all your problems got solved in a half hour?

Hey, I'm Working Here...

So that all my readers know, my wife came up with this title. I thought it was a pretty clever play on words. In fact, if it came out of my mind it would have made "Mookie's Hall of Fame Title's" list. But unfortunately, it can't since the entry was made by an outsider (I'll be getting slapped for that comment). But it's not my fault...I didn't make the rules, I just write here.

Some of the other title options I had considered prior to this:
1. Mikey Meets a Prostitute (which could either be a cheesy made-for-tv movie, or part of the stream of straight to DVD, or an odd title fr one of those old educational films we used to watch in school with the deep-voiced narrator)

2. Midnight Rendevous (also a made-for-tv title on one of those icky "adult" channels which are clearly resposible for the spread of STDs like cooties)

3. Rentacops: Special Whore Edition (a nice play on the special episodes of COPS with a dash of Super Troopers)

But anyways...
So there I was driving down a street in Des Moines through the Drake University neighborhood on my way to the ghetto Burger King (Whopper Jr's with Cheese for $1.27 after tax!!!). I notice near the campus area McDonald's (late nite menu here does not include dollar menu items, so I don't go here) there are three people and this lady walks away from two men, occasionally turning back to say something while gesturing. I couldn't hear any of it, as I had the windows up and was chilling in the air-conditioned paradise that is my patrol car. As I get closer she waves me over, so I pull into a parking lot near her. She walks over, and after asking what she needs, she informs me that she needs to get in with me and get out of there, guys bugging here, blah blah blah. I hesistate, but end up relenting since I'm such a compassionate individual. That was mistake number one.

She gets in, and tells me she has an apartment about 20 blocks away. Whatever, guess I'm skipping less than nutritional stomach comfort to do a good deed with what little spare time I have during my shift. As we drive along, she gives me this sob story about having run out of gas, her fighting with her man, who kicked her out. Mistake number 2 is that I somehow didn't hear this last part until later when I was analyzing last night's episode after the fact.

Then comes the kicker. I could tell this chick was a bit more than just haggard from a rough lifestyle (but I try not to judge). The saying "Never judge a book by its cover met its exception this night. Okay, correction, Not heeding a warning upon that notice was mistake number 1. Shift the others to Mistakes 2 and 3respectively. After telling me her sob story, things shift tracks and she tells me, "I don't do this kind of thing, but maybe we could help each other out?"

Well, first off I'm married with 2 kids (which I brought up). And my wife would have woken up in the middle of the night having sensed something wrong with her bat signal or whatever, ran top speed down and killed me and the hooker before any illegal acts would have concluded.
Secondly, I'm in a highly marked security patrol vehicle, in a nicely visible uniform that also includes my name on a shiny little pin (which I also brought up questioning her with great incredulity). Anybody up late nights could report prostitution acts going on and if the REAL cops showed up, I'm out a job, a wife, 2 kids, and walking to whichever freeway overpass I'll be living under...and gain a court date, and a possible date in jail..and by date I don't mean a day, I mean BUBBA! As a man, I'm all about sex, but c'mon, not THAT kind.

I tell her no, and ask where I can drop her off. She avoids the question, and proceeds to tell me how she's a licensed beautician, masseuse, and has a Master's Degree in Oral Sex. Maybe, I'm naive, but did she really expect me to find that humorous, much less enticing? And she even said she went to school for 4 years to earn it. Yeah, this skeezer (and I mean skeezer as lovingly as any of my beloved rap artists do in their songs)is earning something alright, but it ain't my business.
She reached over and grabbed my hand and is trying to rub all up on me pleading for my help (MONEY) in exchange for her help (God only knows what extra goodies might come at no additional cost to me! But only if I call RIGHT NOW!!!). The car came to a halt, and I got her out.

I drove around the rest of the night with the smell of whore in the car and on my uniform. the little phrase, "smelling like a french whore"? Yeah it definitely applied here. YUCK!

But out of all of this I achieved a milestone in my life. At ONLY 30 years old, I've met my first whore, err for the politically correct people, I met my first Professional of Sensual Stress Relief!

I'd say I was working here, but then again, she could have countered with the same statement.

Update on the Man Eating Bat Terrorist

Dateline Des Moines, IA
13August2009

In an unprecedented move, Rentacop forces moved in on the Hoyt Sherman Place Wednesday evening. Recently becoming a stronghold for Terrorist Bats (undoubtedly trained in Al Qaeda camps), the first real offensive has been considered a victory for Rentacop forces.

After disturbances last weekend, and early Wednesday morning, recon forces were sent in to assess the situation.

"Upon entering the facility all was quiet," Mike Lovell said. "And after a recon of the upper levels was almost complete, all hell broke loose." Mike was commenting anonymously, as he isn't cleared as a spokesman for his particular not-to-be-named security company, NPI Security.

"Complacency almost got us killed. We were wrapping up the mission, and had let our guard down when it all happened. But we were determined to not let such an incident occur again."

Wednesday evening, more disturbances rocked the Hoyt Sherman place. In an effort to quell further terrorist activities and to keep unrest from spreading through the community, the Rentacop Special Strike Forces were dispatched to bring the situation under control.

"I wasn't able to be there for the operation," Lovell commented, still maintaining his anonymity. "I was scheduled for bed rest until midnight. I left it to my Operations commander and patrol leader to perform the snatch and grab, which eventually led to the death of the terrorist bat."

The following is the anonymous Lovell's expert take on the events of the operation, based on 2nd hand information from the participants:

Entry was made at the rear of the compound. After clearing the main level, Rentacop officers proceeded upstairs. In a location code named the "Mirror Room", the bat terrorist made his presence known. A mime-like firefight broke out, as the bat strafed the officers, and they swung flashlights and flailed arms at it, while ducking and dodging the repeated swoops.

The Rentacops retreated back downstairs to regroup. These were obviously high level Bat Terorrists, given their ability to strike fear almost instantly into such hardened Rentacops. Definitely not your run of the mill bats. Maneaters for sure. After a few moments, channeling Lovell's strategically superior mind (WWMD is always the question to ask yourself when in the fight of your life)while he slept, a plan was hatched.

Tablecloths were procured by each officer, and one by one, rooms that had been re-cleared were closed off. Soon the Rentacops found themselves staring pure hell-born terror in its beady little blind eyes in the last room. This would be the final battle to wrest control of Hoyt Sherman Place, helping to secure the secret rumors of Chicken Boy from possible internet notoriety.

With enhanced aerial sonar capabilities and a 10-12 inch wingspan, the Bat Terrorist attempted to navigate the room and confuse the strike force, but within moments found its technology foiled by the radar mixing surface of stealth tablecloths. One stealth tablecloth was deployed, taking the terrorist out of the air. The second one was deployed, creating a blanketing effect on the terrorist bat for easy capture. A ground fight ensued, and finally in perfect Rentacop fashion, Commander Cook laid down the rules with a well placed heal.

We're not saying that the terrorist died for his cause, and we're not saying he was or was not captured. Spokespersons at GITMO have refused all comment. The Obama Administration has also been eerily quiet on the matter. We're still further investigating this manner through other named anonymous sources, but have yet to confirm this story. As a quality news organization, we wanted to make sure you heard it here first. We'll sort the facts from the fiction later, as the story develops, most likely into a really big whopper of a tale.

Terrorist Acts By Bats!!!

As most of you know by now, I'm your average run of the mill rentacop. I drive around, mostly looking pretty, and check to make sure clients' businesses and homes are secure all night. One of my other duties is to respond to alarms at these places. I get the call, go to the alarm, make sure everything is good, or if a bad guy shows up, do something about it...like call the actual cops. Real Hero stuff, and all for $9.50 per hour!!!

Well, the other day, I am walking around a client's house. She moved to another part of town, and left this house in a rather affluent neighborhood which is up for sale. We used to just drive into the driveway and that was it. One day the realtor left the front door open after a showing, and some kids decided to take advantage of the new party spot, henceforth we do full walk arounds every shift now. Anyways, I'm walking around this house, and as I check the front door, I notice something on the board trim above the door and underneath the overhang. I shine my flashlight up there to see what it is, and RIGHT FOR MY NOSE, this bat does some aerial ninja stuff off the ledge, scares the hell out of me, and after backing me off disappears into the trees. Okay, no big deal...

Then came last night. I am sent on a non-identifiable motion alarm to the Hoyt Sherman Foundation house. This place was built by a Civil War General way back when. There are stories, but only word of mouth (I checked for stories online, but came up with nothing), about it being considered possibly haunted-worthy. Mostly centered around a supposed illegitimate boy, affectionately named Chicken Boy, between General Sherman and his daughter. Anyways... this place has a theatre section (which I've attended functions at before) as well as the house, which included an art displaying addition. The place freaks me out, because it does indeed look as haunted worthy as almost any other place I've seen. It's big, with lots of rooms, lots of passageways from random spots in the building, and really friggin dark inside.

Well, my supervisor shows up and decides to escort me through the place. My manly macho attitude goes right out the window here, and more than welcomes the company. We check the outside, and verify that the theatre section is not in alarm. So we enter the house and check out rooms. The alarm pad says the mirror room is the point of alarm (why the security monitoring company can't figure this out is beyond me), but that helps about as much as the security monitor's ineptness. We find a door that leads up to a previously existing belltower. The tower was removed, and the roof resealed (albeit probably not all that well) at a lower level, but the door to it is still there. I open it up, and inside is a bat swooping around acting as a sentry. I quickly shut the door trapping the bat away from us. We check soem more rooms and are in the main upper hallway next to the stairwell, when it happens. A big freaking 747 divebombs us, swoops out and around and continues to make runs at our head. Apparently this was a training exercise and the airborne intruder is not armed to the hilt, otherwise we surely would have been strafed to our deaths.
This is one big friggin bat. I thought at first maybe Batman was real, but then realized Batman doesnt attack rentacops, and we hadn't activated the Bat Signal yet anyways. Then of course I thought that if Chicken Boy had truly disappeared, that this bat had been feasting on him to get that big. I mean seriously, the thing was THIS (stretching my hands out) big!

My supervisor, Casey, attempted to fend off the bat with his mag-lite. Yeah, that only pisses bats off apparently. You just don't antagonize a bat. That big bastard ended up chasing us downstairs and continuing the constant harrassment. Casey beat feet right past me and out into the kitchen, which is apparently out of bounds for the bat, which left me at the bottom of the staircase, crouched low, and stretching with everything I had to hit the lightswitch to the off position. I clicked the switch, and ran underneath the swooping bat into the kitchen myself. Apparently bored with us quitters, the bat disappeared up the stairwell and into the darkness. THANK GOD! We got permission from the keyholder to arm the perimeter, rather than chase down the bat and evict him just to set up the entire alarm system. Again..THANK GOD. That bat surely would've eaten us, or given us rabies.

I'm not so sure I signed up for this stuff, at least not without being allowed to carry around some anti-aircraft guns!