Archive for the ‘crime’ Category

Day 63: The power of a note on the door…

Be gone all you thiefs!I woke up to discover this morning that my tiny Christmas tree equipped with tiny, shiny, glittery little ornaments was swiped from my front porch. I know that it may not have been the best thing — to actually leave something I gave a rip about on the front porch. But combined with the gold bells on my door, the bow I made latched on to the door knocker — everything felt so nice when I came home. Because from inside and out my house was so very pleasantly festive with Christmas cheer. Well, my Christmas cheer faded with my little discovery.

I became enraged. I left a polite note on my neighbor’s door about it after looking around the complex (and glancing the trash) to see if I would find it somewhere. I sat in my house, numb with anger of course. I’ve been robbed several times in my life. Mostly related to my car. This was it. So I kept checking the peep hole every now and then just to see if I saw someone to ask questions. Then I noticed this one young looking guy coming down from upstairs who looked quite guilty when he stopped at my neighbor’s door to read my note which read:

“If you happen to know who stole my tree, please let me know. It wasn’t very nice. Signed (my apartment number).”

Then after he read it, he looked down directly where my Christmas tree WOULD have been. When I saw his face I decided to draft another letter and this time put it on MY door. This one read:

“Merry Christmas Asshole. Whoever stole my fucking Christmas tree doesn’t know who they are fucking with. You will get yours — one way or another. Signed (my apartment number).”

I fumed. Ran errands and came home. Then I heard some really loud walking and looked out the peephole. I saw my “friendly” upstairs neighbor going downstairs. I decided to wait for her to head back up. She would have to pass my door to get to her apartment. I waited because the connection was made. She was surely friends with the guy from earlier in the afternoon. Before I could completely ask her if she had heard anything funny last night she confessed that her friend stole my tree. She said he was “intoxicated” and that she was sorry and was bringing back the tree. Guess what she said next?

“I didn’t appreciate that note. It wasn’t very Christmas-like…”

THE BALLS ON THIS CHICK! I told her I didn’t give a damn, she stole from me and that I’ve been through a lot in my life. And that I didn’t appreciate HER stealing from me. She proceeded to say it wasn’t her. It was her friend. Same damn thing. Long story longer, she brought it back and said that she didn’t want it to affect things with her and I. Hilarious. My punctuation mark was letting her know I’ve been victimized in my life and that stealing from me was wrong. She felt like shit. Her face was if she may have concluded I was once upon a time kidnapped and left for dead.

What does this have to do with the countdown? Nothing. An hour walking in a parade carrying a giant Curious George yesterday and ending my day getting back stolen property counts as a workout for me.

FIN.

TXU: Today’s mafia

I’m sitting here wanting to burn down the very facility that warms my home. Granted — I’m an idiot. I should have watched how my usage was going to be before signing up for some bogus plan that only saves me money when I go over 1,000 kilowatts. I hung up on the bitch who told me I had to pay $200 to get out of this plan because it was a 2-year contract commitment.

I guess because I’ve always used TXU I figured it was worth it. Instead I’m sitting here with the gestapo telling me I have no choice. Oh, wait. Yea I have a choice. The choice to keep getting screwed up the rear-end. I’ve had Green Mountain Energy before and I will never do that again. They bent me over more than TXU is right now. It’s all so corrupt. These are the things of what going postal was invented.

So I’m sitting here and the woman tells me that she could help me. Guess how? By changing my price plan and then in return I have to pay the $200 to get out of my current plan. I’m such a dummy for falling for this plan in the first place. I’m in a 535 square foot apartment! When will I ever be over 1,000 kilowatts? Maybe the summer. We shall see. As it stands with the first touch of cool weather my bill is $109 this month. With all my not running the heat all day, limiting my lights and burning fires, I should have decently low usage. I know someone who has a much bigger apartment whose bill is only a little more than mine. Did I mention I’m in a matchbox by the lake?! I asked for an audit but apparently because the world rotates in cyberspace, I have to do that online. How in the hell can you audit a home online without a real, live, red-blooded worker checking your installation and other energy crap right there in real time?

It’s almost worth it because I’m already getting screwed, to just take up being a high-class prostitute for disposable income and obtain the $200 bucks to get out of the mob. Yep. That’s a good plan.

The writers strike has me in bed early…

I miss you already, Jimmy…Say it ain’t so, Jimmy. Say it ain’t so that you don’t write your OWN jokes and skits?

I can’t believe that I now have to skip my nightly dose of Jimmy Kimmel just because some writers want more money from the sales of DVDs. Shit, I want more money too. But I guess I can’t really afford the markers, poster board and extra cups of coffee to sustain a strike in our department.

It must be nice to have so much power on the world right now. Those writers have managed to halt the all-mighty Desperate Housewives as well. Eva even brought pizza! Boy those writers really have it so bad…

OK, OK. I can go along with this to a point. I understand the feeling of being unappreciated. And I know big-time producers pretty much squander the money earned from great writing. I understand it can get kind of “unfair” when the money from DVD sales isn’t thrown at those who made all our favorite movies and television seasons possible. But what irritates me is that I just don’t think these writers were hurting in the first place. They have what many of us scribblers would call “The Dream Job.” And maybe it kind of sucks to be the bearer of such merriment and not get the dinero for the hard work. However can’t we all say that about our “everyday” careers?

BLAH!It isn’t that I think these guys don’t deserve a little more dough. Everyone could use a few extra quarters in their purse, but I guess I’m just a little bitter. Jimmy is one of those guys that you don’t really want to admit having a crush on because they are so dopey, but just can’t help it because they are so funny and smart. My kind of man. Now he’s all rerun-y and I’m all teary. I haven’t been this depressed since I realized he and Sarah Silverman were a duo. What a waste of a good guy.

Just give the damn writers what they want. I know it’s “hard” but try to pry a few millions out of your already very heavy wallet, O powers that be. I need my Jimmy fix. I can live without DH.

Can my cat have the answer to rising gas prices?

While you/we were nursing our Halloween hangovers, the gas companies were giving it to us Pulp Fiction style while we were recuperating. I knew I woke up a little sore back there from something…

Gasoline is officially above $3 – again – on Long Island. And heating oil has hit yet another record: $3.113 a gallon. Experts say it will get worse before it gets better.

 

And it’s not just Long Island, of course. The highest I saw here in Dallas was over $2.81 

I recently purchased a Toyota Yaris.

Mine is black, though… 

 

You would think that this whole rising gas crap (AGAIN) wouldn’t affect me much. Wrong-o. With my job I am constantly on the highway — speeding along from different towns and frequent trips through tollways and maneuvering downtown. Plus bi-weekly trips to see my parents. Though I can go about a week without officially filling up, on a considerably busy week I may need to hit the pump twice. Waiting for mileage reimbursement from my company can be a real buzz kill…

So yes. Egg-owners like me are also suffering right along horrid Hummer owners in this time of gas anal spelunking. Sorry if you own a Hummer. No. I don’t hug trees.

What is happening? Really? I want the real story…

I know some of you folks have the answer, right? Anyway, pretty soon I’m going to figure out how to fuel my car with cat pee.

Are bars and brothels the same?

Sure both pretty much accomplish the same thing. Both indulge urges. Give the good-feelin’ dopamine. Can get a little messy. More importantly they give folks jobs. And like it or not there are some areas of the world where people have to make it working in these two establishments as oppose to the alternative. Read an interesting take on prostitution over at the anit-socialist’s blog.

I happen to believe that legalizing prostitution here in more places than Nevada may be controversial, but it happens anyway. People crave “the bad things” so why not just tax it or something and we all benefit because it isn’t going away. But, I’m not going to write about morality here because in the end that isn’t why I’ve written this post. I just want to get people’s opinion on the recent situation in a little place called El Alto, Bolivia. Did anyone read about the extreme protesting by prostitutes trying to get bars and brothels reopened by sewing their lips together? Read up, but here is a snippet.

“We are fighting for the right to work and for our families’ survival,” Lily Cortez, leader of the El Alto Association of Nighttime Workers, told local television. “Tomorrow we will bury ourselves alive if we are not immediately heard. The mayor will have his conscience to answer to if there are any grave consequences, such as the death of my comrades.”

People affected by the closing of bars are also protesting, but not to that extent. More like the traditional fasting and shouting. Prositiution is legal in Bolivia, but not pimping. I know that the brothels must offer a “safer” location for a hooker’s occupation, so is that the reason why they can’t just technically just stand on a street corner to get a john? Please someone educate me if that’s not possible in Bolivia. Same can’t be said about a bar. And bars affect so many other jobs. Gee, with hooking the only other jobs affects are — wait, that was too easy.

Anyway, I just want some of you passionate bloggers to give your comment on this. Is life without bars the same as life without hooker havens?

A noose at Columbia?!

Jena. Yes at Jena. There is no excuse for it, but that is the South. I live in the South. I know the South.

Call me an idealist, but New York has always represented a sense of freedom, beauty, opportunity and open-mindedness to me. Am I wrong? Yet another noose. Yet ANOTHER ONE at Columbia University of all places. A very distraught Madonna Constantine, the black professor who found the noose on her door, was on Good Morning America this morning–talking to Robin Roberts (my idol), which is ironic because the fact that we see black journalists everyday should show we are in another world compared to what the 50s had to offer. Anyway, the professor said one of the main things she felt was embarrassed though she said she had nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m embarrassed too.

You all know that I hate the race card. And that I don’t like to go on and on about “the black plight.” But this HAS to stop. Why is the world so hateful? I’m continuing my lose of faith in people. And this resurgence of “the noose” is childish at best, dangerous to our country’s progression at worse. I have been pretty lucky because I can’t think of a major incident in my life where I was the victim of racism. To be honest my racism had mostly been by other blacks telling me I wasn’t black enough. Very different problem. My parents however were old enough to experience racism while living in Lubbock, Texas. My mother and her siblings went for ice cream only to discover their vanilla scoops were in fact Crisco. Both of my parents also remember the segregation, the separate water fountains.

I feel so very blessed (I say blessed…even as an agnostic). I’m blessed because I know that the opportunities and the life I have today is a direct result of people who fought for what I have. But I’m fearing that we are going backwards. Not just with something like a fool hanging a noose but this is going to create more of those “movements” I despise. I don’t want to see a 1960s-like movement everytime such actions like this one are taken. I think we can solve this without a march. I think if we just EDUCATE. Show the face of racism and humiliate it. I want to see everyone banded together and speaking out in the community. Marches just get written off as “oh, there THEY go again.” But if you take actions to educate, whether that is in school or town hall meetings, maybe something can be done? But then again, maybe I’m being an idealist like I said before. And because I’m just starting and continuing to feel quite disappointed in people, I might just join a march if there is one to be a part of. I’m tired. I’m just so tired of it.

Where’s Al Sharpton for this?

A few weeks ago I heard about an incident not far from my general location that involved a guy just going into a bank to do some business. There was nothing special about this guy. He was regularly dressed. But he forgot to leave his black skin at home.

I didn’t want to write about the incident right away, waiting to see what would develop. I don’t pull the race card often. I think it’s too easy to do and I hate hearing excuses for bad behavior and ignorance being attatched to the “because I’m black”  factor. But what happened on that seemingly normal trip to the bank is far from racial equality. The gentleman in question, Derrill Ewans, was “mistaken” for a bank-robber. A teller called 9-11 asking for the police and stated Ewans and another gentleman had a gun. Read the gory details here but I will give you a snippet.

“We have two males that walked into our branch, possibility of a gun in his pocket,” the teller said. “He’s sitting down with a personal banker.”

Oh snap. Sound the alarm. A black man wants a LOAN!!! Hit the deck!

A second personal banker then played down the ordeal to the 911 operator and asked for either a plain-clothed officer to take a look or have an officer simply drive by.

The banker told the operator there was not a robbery in progress.

“We’re talking to him about a loan that he’s doing and everything else and one of our tellers thought that he had a weapon on him,” the banker said.

But even though the downplay was in progress. The cops still showed up, handcuffed Ewans and his girlfriend who was waiting in the car with their 3-year-old daughter. They put her and their child in a squad car. I don’t really blame the police. They were doing their job for the most part I guess but I think they should have done some better investigating before slapping on cuffs and humiliating this man and his family.

What else could be the reason for this mishap? Can you see another senario? That side of town isn’t really used to seeing black folks. Trust me. And here, I believe, is a perfect example of racism at it’s finest so where is Mr. Sharpton? Oh yea. He’s been busy in Jena, promoting himself. Look, I’m not saying what happened in Jena should be ignored but let’s not forget those kids committed a crime — no matter the provocation. If we aren’t putting out these “smaller” fires like some innocent guy walking into a damn Wells Fargo, those little flames just become bigger ones and will spread.