here goes yet another, "I should be asleep" post.

i dont know why. thinking gets to me. it makes me ache for simple answers that i know, even without thinking through, really wont ever come to pass. it also seems, which i also dont know why, that thinking hits me as my body begins to tire out for the night.

and im not even sure what im thinking about really. on one hand [err brain half?] im elated about the snowflakes in the air. why? i dont know. im a winter person. i love snow. i thrive in cold weather. there is something special about the silence and the crispness at night during a fresh snow fall. everything seems heavy and still; but poised to fall. the only sounds are the branches that clatter and the sounds of heavy flakes raking across ice. its a sound of purity. its a picture of silence. its largely undescribeable why it enertains me so. tonight was the first night for snow in the air. and like a child, i sat by the window watching it swirl and blow around. for the moment, i guess i was a child again.

thinking ruins that. thinking, constructs my self in my correct age, and spoils the moment as quickly as vinegar sours the milk. i know that i cant be a kid. i know that im not a kid. yet, the simple moments where i forget that... where i can stop and refrain myself from thinking about it all, are the moments where i couldnt be farther from childhood. as a child, you never needed to escape. i never needed a way to run or hide or delude myself about life; about the way it ought to be, or about the flakes falling to the earth. as a child, the simplicity is bliss; not the ignorance of the facts. as an adult, i look out and watch the flakes settling on pavement that is far too warm to accumulate. i watch some of the flakes stop and cling to the tips of the greenish brown grass before they melt and leave the blades slick and shiny. it isnt the knowledge that the snow wont stick, its the thought process expecting the worst before the flakes have a chance to freeze the ground. its the difference between a child and the adult in me.

the onset of winter seems to be a gloomy time for most people. for me, thats fall. fall is death. not the approach of death, but death in its final throes. the entrance of winter is the silence after the fact. and if spring is the rebirth, then some where between the final breath and the first light, comes the conception. to me, thats winter. winter is the blankness of a page, the pleasantness of the unknown, with the coldness of a new begining. winter is a stark begining that covers the failures of the past, blankets the dead, and allows us a chance to see a rebirth for what it will be. winter is coming soon i hope, the adult in me misses what it means.

as i was reading tonight; i ran across a wonderful excerpt that paralleled my lack of reasoning for a lack of posting; unfortunately, this was his reasoning [in part] to not promptly returning correspondence back to the United States, during his campaign from Market Garden through The Bulge. I have no such war to fight. But, I think, I have similar feelings of impersonality, and perfection driven days, filled with crap that shouldn't be left to me.


" I certainly didn't feel like writing anymore. I couldn't explain why, but the only emotion that I could arouse were feelings of anger and after staying mad all day and half the night, I was just plain tired. Mad at what? Just about everything for just about everything was done wrong or it wasn't done perfectly. Since nothing but perfection was acceptable, I stayed mad. What struck me most was how damn tired I became by the end of each day and how difficult it was to concentrate. I now had people asking me questions about weapons, targets, harassing fire, grazing fire, chow, transportation, and base of fire. It never ended. I had no time to consider a person's feelings or devotion to the point, or incidental matters. Combat required that my thoughts and feelings remain hard, cold, indifferent, and effective. As to any tender thoughts I might have possessed before the war, I had left them behind in the marshaling area in England. There was no room for trivialities. "

Maj. Richard Winters
Beyond Band of Brothers [2006]

so an entry here is quite overdue. again. as usual. i have no excuses really.

should anyone not know, i did take the position in a different department. its up and down for me. the first couple have weeks have definitely pulled me out of a comfort zone. but as a plus, i notice so much more about everything downstairs... as in how out of place it is, how poorly its stocked... all compared to where i am at. oh well. as long as the checks keep cashing out, ill keep showing up.

not much else new. life is getting back into a rut of sorts. rut may not describe it well. path is better. with a rut, my first thought is to the bottom; to the muck and stagnant water that always accumulates in a rut. ruts are not a nice place to wallow in and about. ive got a bit more direction than being herded through a rut and its slop. but im most definitively on a predetermined track. that much isn't always good. but at least for me, the way is clear for now.

don't get me wrong, [in fact, cue up the "Don't Stop Believing"] i still want out, and im still trying to get out. but the signs are getting less frequent to turn off at. honestly, ive grown so callused to the Deere and Arsenal hiring practices, ive largely given up on either of them of late. sure, they are the largest, and best paying options in the area, but they sure dont seem interested in me what so ever. instead, ive been hitting up several of the area hospitals, and the universities. not that i want to run back to the bastions of liberalism, but dammit, compared to where i am at now, those halls look gilded to me. so i try. so far, ive not accomplished much.

for part two; yes, i still live in the basement. its shameful. but ive scrounged and surveyed: still with my current wage and overhead, im not sure i could make money living anywhere else. my best guess is hoping to break even or be up about 100 dollars per month, depending on utility increases and fuel increases. so. i stay on in the concrete bunker. on the positive; i have been banking quite steadily my surplus from staying put, against my loan... id expect the jeep to be mine in the clear by the end of the year... maybe at the latest february of 2009. which is grand. fucking grand. because its a year early. so... all that money can go to the "Free The Scott Foundation," or to the money pit that is student loan payback.

as a side track of money and february; im still leaning on taking early vacation next year [provided im still with Blue]. while it kills me to work so long with out any hope, and to cover for everyone else with hope; it seemed like a nice change of pace this winter. hopefully airlines will still be somewhat cheap before the spring hike hits, so... im taking ideas. hopefully something warm... but something in me is thinking the Great Northwest... who knows. just an idea.

anyhow... just checking in ... people were asking questions.... so to stave off the police reports im still around...

Iowa Central president receives $400K for resignation

Des Moines Register [available ONLINE] Article by Clark Kauffman

Iowa Central Community College President Robert Paxton will collect $400,000 from the school in return for his resignation.

After 13 years as president of the Fort Dodge school, Paxton resigned Wednesday, one day before the school’s board of trustees was scheduled to discuss an undisclosed “personnel matter.”

The special meeting was called after The Des Moines Register published a July 4 photograph of Paxton aboard a boat with a group of young people, holding the spigot of a small beer keg suspended over a young woman’s open mouth.

College trustee Mark Crimmins was aware of the photo before it was published and told the Register that Paxton had done nothing improper and the matter wasn’t deserving of the board’s attention.

When questioned by the Register, Paxton initially denied knowing anything about the photo or any recent boat outings with young people. After being told that Crimmins had already informed the Register that he had seen the photo and the two men had discussed it, Paxton acknowledged the photo’s authenticity. He said he had done nothing illegal or improper.

But the photograph, along with Paxton’s explanation for it, was picked up by other media outlets and sparked a heated debate in Fort Dodge over the personal conduct of public officials.

At today’s board meeting, the trustees met for eight minutes and agreed, without discussion, to accept Paxton’s resignation and approve a compensation package for him. The deal calls for Paxton to receive $200,000 in January 2009 and $200,000 in January 2010.

Trustee Larry Hecht said the board felt the compensation package was fair to all parties.

“The thing we struggled with was whether his personal life was, you know, his,” he said. “I think we all thought that was true. On the other hand, his position — I guess what you do in your personal life does affect the public’s perception of what you do on the job.”

Hecht said the decision to accept the resignation was “heart-breaking” given Paxton’s dedication to the school. Asked why there was no discussion of the compensation package, Hecht said, “It wasn’t like he killed somebody or stole money, so where we’d end up court was ‘who knows.’”

Paxton was not present for the board meeting, but said in a written statement to the board, “It was a true joy and honor to serve” the school.

Paxton, 52, has said all of the people who were drinking in the boat when the photograph was taken were of legal age. He said the beer keg was broken and wasn’t dispensing beer into the young woman’s mouth. He said his 19-year-old son, who was arrested for second-offense drunken driving early the next morning, was in the boat but was not drinking.

Three days before the photo was taken, Paxton signed a new employment contract with the school. The deal awarded Paxton a 33 percent increase in his annual retention bonus, raising it to $15,000 per year.

The deal also included a $156,000 annual salary; a $27,960 stipend toward the purchase of an annuity; a $13,200 annual car allowance in addition to mileage payments; and an expense account worth $7,250.

In 2002, Paxton was indicted on charges of felonious misconduct in office, falsification of public records and tampering with public records. The charges grew out of an investigation into student athletes being awarded false grades.

Three of Paxton’s colleagues at Iowa Central eventually pleaded guilty to charges they tampered with student records to benefit the athletes and to deceive others. All three men retained their jobs at the school. The charges against Paxton were deferred under an agreement in which he accepted responsibility for the transcript fraud.

so creeps in this petty pace

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle. Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Act V, Scene V, Tragedy of MacBeth

so i have some thinking to do. ive done some already. but i have a lot more to do. i cant say that im ever in a good spot for very long. a situation of sorts has arisen at work, such that im expected to make a choice that i feel very pressured to make. its not life or death or anything like that. its not even really all that important. but to me, its a hard decision to make. the option is on the table for me to switch to a different department, for equal pay, equal position. it 'costs' me; a change of weekends, a slightly worse schedule than i already have, plus the entire problem of learning everything there is to know about an entirely different group of garbage. i 'get' the change of scenery, the heartwarming sensation that i can learn something else, and the ability to cast my net wider for future spots by doing this. it, however, is not that simple of a choice to make.

at its root is the stability of my current slot. should i choose to go, a whole lot of people are going to think i jumped ship, before it sunk. because there will be some sinking involved, without question. my entire menards life has been spent in the same spot, and its quite warm, even with the garage i deal with. this is going to look bad if i jump, because there isnt any direct benefit for me other than to be out of the old department. ... ... ... and i think people will take note of that quite readily.

if money were involved, or a true promotion up, no one would think any different, and id probably never have to think much about the outcome. but for this... this to me, would look like someone wants out, and found a way out. because it is that way.

so im rather conflicted about the whole mess. i know, that at noon tomorrow, they want an answer from me. who the hell could fee anything but pressured by that? i tried to force my self to think this over a lot today, so i spent most of the day driving to nowhere doing just that. i know that if im reflecting this much on it, something says this isnt a small of a deal as the others are offering it up to be. so here i sit.

the honest answer should be; if i cant make a decision, then dont. but i also know, that not making a decision is the same as rejecting future offers without saying as much. but thats unfortunately part of the package. i really dont know what im going to say tomorrow.

Police think body found in park is Miller's

Iowa City Press-Citizen • August 24, 2008

[available online: Press-Citizen] No Author Attributed

Iowa City police say “more than likely” the body and rifle found in Hickory Hill Park on Sunday is that of embattled University of Iowa professor Arthur Miller, dead of an apparent suicide.

If so — police have not made a positive identification yet or confirmed a cause of death — this would conclude a search for the man accused of offering better grades to students willing to bare their breasts or let him fondle them. Police began looking Wednesday after his wife reported him missing.

“Clearly, at this point everything points to that being Mr. Miller,” Iowa City Police Sgt. Mike Brotherton said.

Daniel Hoover, 51, of Marion who works with Linn County Underwater Search and Recovery, began looking for Miller at 10 a.m. Sunday and found a body in a meadow about 30 yards off a deer path in the north part of the park. He called police at 12:28 p.m.

“It was something because of past associations that I thought I could do. I didn’t think it would bother me if I did find a body, so I thought I would give it a try. … I hope that it will help provide closure to everybody involved,” Hoover said. “The woods there are very overgrown. (Finding the body) would be as much luck or divine guidance as anything. You could call it good luck or maybe bad luck.”

Police think Miller, 66, a UI political science professor for the past 23 years, felt humiliated after accusations stemming from May 8 and 13 became public. Police charged Miller on Aug. 8 with four counts of soliciting a bribe, a class C felony punishable by up to 10 years in prison. Miller also was to be put on paid leave when school resumed today as the university conducted an internal investigation.

Miller’s wife reported him missing and said he left an “apologetic” possible suicide note before 7 a.m. Wednesday morning. His red BMW was discovered Wednesday parked at the Upper Hickory Hill Park entrance. A city worker saw someone matching Miller’s description walk into the park Tuesday morning with a mustard-colored blanket. Miller used his cell phone at about 10 a.m. Tuesday, which is thought to be his last known contact, and a gunshot was reported in that vicinity late that morning, police said.

Police learned Miller had purchased a high powered rifle in June. Police found in Miller’s car his wallet, cell phone and boxes of ammunition, including one that was missing a few cartridges.

“If it is Mr. Miller, he’s been there since 10:30 a.m. Tuesday,” Brotherton said, noting advanced stages of decomposition of the body had set in. “That was when we lost contact with him.”

Police closed the 185-acre park and began a two-day search on Wednesday, including using specially trained K-9 units. Police initially suspected Miller had committed suicide, but they called off the physical search on Thursday evening after they didn’t find his body and considered the possibility that Miller may have left the park.

Police have not yet positively identified the body, but all signs point to this being Miller.
The body was discovered with the rifle underneath it and a yellow blanket nearby, about 200 yards from police’s staging area for its search on Wednesday and Thursday. The body also had a green shirt and green shorts, which was consistent with the description of what Miller had been wearing, Brotherton said.

Police could not say for certain the 30-06 rifle had fired or that the person died of a gunshot wound, but there was head trauma, Brotherton said.

“There are some consistencies and similarities with a suicide,” he said.

A crime scene unit and the medical examiner were on scene investigating Sunday as the northern entrance to the park was closed off for the afternoon. The rest of the park remained open.

The family has been contacted, Brotherton said.

“I think it is pretty much what they’ve been expecting all along,” he said.

The family did not return a phone message Sunday.

The family issued a statement Thursday indicating they thought Miller already had died.

“The ordeal of the last two weeks has become unbearable for Arthur. He could not live with the thought that his name and reputation were smeared and associated with the things which he believed he never had done,” the family said in Thursday’s statement.

An autopsy, which would allow for positive identification, is scheduled for today in Ankeny.

“More than likely, the signs point to (it being) Mr. Miller, but we can’t say 100 percent positive,” Brotherton said.

University spokesman Steve Parrott said the university would wait until confirmation before they issue a statement.



---------------------

Because I told you so, only works so well. Remember people; I'm only capable of selling toilet seats... I have no other marketable skills, and no functional knowledge to use in the working world outside of toilet seat sales.

I was off by approximately 12 hours on the lead time to find the body. However, I also had to work all weekend, otherwise I'd have gone corpse hunting I suppose. Also note, the person credited as making the recovery works for law enforcement, but is obviously doing this as an amateur, much as I suspected. The position of the body on the rifle is more indicative of kneeling position taken by the shooter, balanced forwards over the center of gravity, likely due to the angle necessary to hold the weapon. Properties boarding the entire western edge of the park are of residential are development, with several small schools and churches approximately in a mile radius from the center of the park. The northwestern border of the park is adjacent to a cemetery.

Any how, back to selling toilet seats for me.

here goes another one of my famous, "what the hell am i doing at the keyboard at this time of night" posts. to which, i never have any answer. still wont here either.

people have been asking me if i know about this story; and no i really dont. the three classes i had from that department all were with other professors. to be honest, id never even seen the guy in my time at iowa. not to beat a dead horse, but it really must be a great gig to do that. come on. reading papers that the nubile, young, dont-know-any-better, coeds write each semester has to weigh down on someone with a phD. he found a way to make it better. allegedly. gives a whole new interpretation to grading by a curve, doesn't it? in all seriousness, my best guess is that he is dead. what surprises me the most is that he left with out certain personal effects. why? well... it gets a bit foggy here... so bear with me.

criminals plan things. even if the plan is, mug this guy and take his money. its a plan. they aren't always well thought out. they cant be. because most of them get caught in the act, or with in 48 hours of commission. anyway. suicides ARE different. one could argue its a crime, but keep in mind, this is much more like dealing with a mentally deranged person. the problem is, they are, and remain, fully in control. what? yeah. hang on this. suicides do things we dont think rationally would apply. they eat lunch, then 20 minutes later, jump off a bridge. they read the paper, feed the cat, then jump in the shower with a hair dryer. its quite a daft proposition to think that anything is related to anything else. again, we only get the opportunity to look backwards at a crime scene. which, when we come across it, was simply a place where a crime was committed. logically, people without knowledge of these things [particularly family members, and the general public once the media throws it all out there like Vince Foster], look for a causal chain... a stark reason that would set them overboard, followed by a line of shit about how they "would never do something like this." obviously. suicides really are a one time deal.

but scott, you are presuming hes dead, and dont know that yet! yes, i am, and so do the police. again, to bear the point across: that this man left his wallet, cell phone and miscellaneous personal affects behind should lend us a few clues about his mental state at that moment. dying anonymously. not really. but subjectively he felt so. why? distance. obviously the man in question is up against it; his profession and his personal life are about over with as he knows it, so hes trying to distance it. or maybe, he really felt like walking in the woods with a rifle, and thought better of loosing his wallet out there, so he left it in the car. things were not staged here. this type of deliberate action suggest distancing himself in death from his life. why would he need distance? because of shame. guilt. a lack of willingness to accept fate for his actions. he is dead, and he intended to kill himself. he has left personal affects behind to remain more anonymous. it could be hard to find him.

really? well take vince foster. he was missing for a day or so, then a search was on, and finally he was found right next to a monument, near a bush, in a park. most parks have pretty easy access to monuments. so why is it so hard to find one dead guy? in this sense, its because maybe he wants it to be. maybe the guy had second thoughts. maybe hes too ashamed to be found, and identified. suddenly, i m not that crazy after all, am i? a man with no identification, who is on his way to kill himself, isnt readily found, because again, hes looking to distance himself from his acts. ill get to the nitty gritty here....

my best guess is the body should be discovered within the next 36 hours [i'd wager by dusk saturday night]. i wouldnt be surprised if its a volunteer, or some passer-by that finds him. id suspect that he will be with in 15 feet from a trafficked area, and probably not much more than 1,000 yards from a viable, accessible area [read: a church, a school, street lighted residential district]. i doubt, very much, that hes found near a largely populated area... no hospitals, not near the university, no shopping malls. im also going to take a guess [though i wont know for certain] that when the ballistics are run, the body will have been facing out wards from cover, and would likely to have been seen within that 15 foot area, should someone be in the right place at that right moment. although the man was deeply convicted, suffers from guilt, the gunshot will be central, or 40 degrees from center of the forehead, from the right side of the body. there will not be second note with the body.

how in the name of the Lord, can i come up with this? well... crime data supports most of me here on locations. positioning of the body is due to his nature as a person. while he is eluding people, he is going to be on the watch for them as well, probably up to the final moments. the shot will be to the head, because everything else here is justifying a mentally preserved state... hes tying up loose ends, hes looking to disappear, and hes thought this over. that, and statistically men shoot to the head, women are more prone to the body in circumstances. also, he probably wont find a good way to wrap a long arm to his stomach or upper chest, hence the angle to the head. the 1,000 yard shot is a crap shoot. why? my hunch is here that he doesn't have far to get to now, and the mental conflict wants him to preserve himself as long as possible, until he chooses the mark. that being said, he will avoid populous areas; that leaves too much behind, leaves him infamous. hes looking at namelessness, as if he can absolve himself and his family from what happened by doing it this way. the 1,000 yards to a church, or a school... id guess he either has some religious ties, so he goes near a church or worship area [but not his own!], or goes toward a school [ties of comfort, memories of youth and innocence]. my last shot at it is the residential area; because that affords him a last look at humanity in general. maybe he makes a plea for himself at the end, or maybe it sets him off looking at it. the 15 feet rule is because he cant get far. besides, hes not hiding. hes going to kill himself. hes looking for privacy thats opportune, not perpetual. he has not picked out the exact position, but i wouldnt be surprised if he is familiar with the area.

i could be totally wrong. hope i am.

Shackler's Revenge... Whatever The Hell That Means

Here again, I'd post the video/music that was leaked [so far the only OTHER place I've found this was on Youtube, which I put up yesterday, and was promptly quashed over night Sunday], but it wouldn't do me a lot of good... this song is stuck in my brain. Its the new GnR. Its not Appetite For Destruction. Its nowhere near the Illusions albums... but I dig it. So far, its ... very modern. Its very different than the other big leaks in terms of style. This song doesn't even sound like the 4 new ones they have played live... its edgy. It has this disco beat. It has odd noodling distorted guitars. Its Axl, but obviously through a synthesizer with odd effects on his voice. But its the lyrics that I [alone] love.

"I've got a funny feeling there's something wrong today
I've got a funny feeling and it won't go away

I've got an itchy finger and there'll be hell to pay
I'm gonna pull the trigger and blow them all away

Don't ever try to tell me how much you care for me
Don't ever try to tell me how you were there for me

I don't believe there's a reason (I hope you see this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I don't regret this)

I've got a wicked demon inside that never fades
I've got an empty feeling I won't be home today

I don't believe there's a reason (I hope you see this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I don't regret this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I hope you see this)
I don't believe there's a reason (I don't regret this)"


It hits me pretty hard. For whatever reason, these things agree with me or don't. Axl's words usually do. This one really does. Its a song I'd probably write. That is if I had talent. Its the same message. The same feeling. Almost like; if certain people heard this song, they would know where the lyrics came from; like that some of these phrases are snippets of conversations or emotions strong enough people would know who they are directed at just by hearing it. I hope so. Thats why I'm getting out of it. Dammit he is right. I wish I could say things like this, so truthfully, so succinct, so brashly.

"Don't ever try to tell me how much you care for me, don't ever try to tell me how you were there for me" thats good. I wish I could say that. I wish people would understand that. I wish, if this is how he does this, that I could say things and people would get a clue like I did. How people abuse you, how they steal from you, and how to them it all seems like nothing. How they try to convince you of thoughts or feelings that are empty, for the point of keeping up appearances. God dammit that hits home to me.Like it was innocent. Like it never happened. When it was far from that. I wish I could put those words out there to bounce them off some blank faces.

"I've got an empty feeling I won't be home today" which is especially haunting. Lots of reasons. But I love that line. Great song.

] going back to listening [

-- out ---

S.

Pour Some Sugar on Me

The 80's insanity MUST NOT STOP!!!! It stops for no man! So Pour Some SUGAR ON ME!!!!!! [and my mullet!]

Getting The Chair

I hate the dentist. I freaking hate going to see the dentist. Can I be more clear? There are a precious few things that make me cringe in life. I don't like large expanses of open water [the kind that cover horizon to horizon], I'm not overly fond of the summer heat and humidity, but I flippin hate the dentist. There isn't much middle ground for me and that chair. Why? Why not! That scraping feeling, where it feels like each tooth is coming out for sure during their "delicate cleaning" process makes me cringe. I hate the sound the implements make. I hate the feel of your gums being burnt as they polish and apply fluoride paste. I detest the minuscule chunks of plaque and garbage they fling in the air, that inevitably lands in your eyes. I hate it when they say "sorry, that looks like your in pain." I hate the dentist.

When I go to see the doctor, I meet with a nurse first; who takes my information and has me sit and wait for the doctor. When I go to see the dentist, they snarl at me with perfectly bleached fangs, and scowl at the dingy chairs and 3rd rate magazine rack, as if I didn't know what my fate was. At the doctors office; I hear pleasant music. Sometimes Bach, maybe even Schubert, and on a rare Friday afternoon, maybe some talk radio. At the dentist, Axis Sally still calls out units thanking them to die, and welcoming fresh young teeth to wait their torture. My medical doctor leaves nice booklets about the place, modern health trends, Men's Health, Midwest Vacation Magazine, and that lone issue of Golf Digest. Its decorated in pleasant end tables, with lamps! And on the wall is some quaint [as I think of it] Nantucket house on the edge of the sea. Herr Dentist has framed pictures of Stage 4 Periodontal Disease over the exit door to dissuade any escape attempts. Tommy the Tooth leans on his brush, like the butcher leans on a meat grinder. His face is the cheeriest in the room, as I gaze over my copy of Tooth Cracker Illustrated. The waiting room at my physician has a slight hint of gauze and powdered rubber gloves, but is a fresh breath of sterile for the most part. The fetid fumes of the tooth puller are saturated in pain and sweat.

The doctor calls me by name, smiles, and comes out to shake my hand. Dr. Anderson doesn't see me much, but knows when he does something isn't right. He does his best medically, and personally to make me comfortable again. In the Evil Empire of Enamel, I only hear "NEXT," where I open the door my self, half expecting a rifle to be pointed out of it, to walk and find my fate. The screams of drills, and the garbled cries of my fellow man are all around me. I'm as hopeless now, as they are.

The doctor waits till I sit, then has the PA come in to take my history, and my basic vitals. She smiles, makes small talk, and reminds me about my weight. We laugh. I shrug, and say I try my best and some day it should show. Then she departs, reminding me that the doctor will be right in. I stand in the hallway of the [tooth]death camp, looking about me, as if i could, to find a brick I could pull away and crawl behind. But I'm spotted, and gestured to the room. And to The Chair. The last sharp voice I hear orders me to stop with soda, sugar, and all manners of things I love to eat; or else my teeth will rot right through my skull. After that, I hear the snap of a glove, and the whine of the drill. I black out. The pain is still there. But I try to separate myself in two. To peel back a layer of my psyche as they probe and scrape.

The doctor sees me, checks my symptoms. He knows I have drug allergies, and prescribes me a healthy dosage for my ailment. He knows this is the best treatment, but reminds me to call if a side affect materializes, or to set a follow up appointment in a week it my symptoms aren't diminished. He smiles, shakes my hand, and walks me out to the door. But by now, The Dentist, has yet to see me. He lets his underlings have their way with me first. To tire me out. To break my mind, and split my body, then let his healing touch flow around me. I'm scared. The minutes are hours... and after the first hour, I've lost track of what day it really was. Its painful. Its mental more than anything. They continue their wicked ways with out mercy. Until He arrives. He says nothing to me, but speaks in gibberish to a lackey. He identifies me only by my dental records. "Twisted 9." I can't speak. "20 mm over bite." More fingers get shoved in my mouth. Then he stands over me, shoving the light into my eyes, as if it could bring me more discomfort. "I still want to do that Endo on 17." I don't want what he wants, but its futile. "No cavities. ... This time. Schedule a follow up for the Endo, and a six month in February for him. Mark to watch Twisted 9." Then he leaves. My jaws ache from the abuse, but its my mind thats battered most.

Thats why I hate the dentist.

Because every time it feels like this. Every time my teeth hurt down through the roots, my jaws ache to the point of numbness, and I swear I can feel the places where they've burnt streaks into my teeth with the drills and instruments. I've been through 7 dentists in my life. Every single one is a vile as the last. I have a gag reflex now, that I never had. Its the freaking putrid smell of the dentist office and a finger in my mouth, and I'm ready to choke. I hate going to the dentist. I hate it more than most things in life. But I went. And yes, they really want to do a root canal on me, for a tooth that brings me no pain, and very limited sensitivity to cold. It made my routine check up, seem like a tool to shake me down for more money and more pain. I hate dentists. They only seem to have appointments for me at 8:15am, on my only day off in 2 weeks. Do I need more reasons? I think not. Did I mention, I still at 27 have never had a cavity? I rest my case.

400 Is Just A Number

Post 400 is coming up very fast. 4-freaking-hundred. I'm not so sure that I ever planned on keeping this thing going that long, but here it is. I also like to sit back and think about all the others I've left in the dust in the past 6 years or so. I can hardly remember how many of my friends used to have blogs and let them die. Trouble is, many of them still read this one. WHy? I've wondered late at night about what is so compelling to people to read what I write with such regularity. Its flattering. I enjoy it. Hell, some days I even cater to it. But it behooves me to understand it. Just as much so as the reasons why people refuse to read it any more. So many people, so many reasons. So to get that out of the way, I appreciate the ZERO blog birthday wishes I received last week. My six-year old self and I thought about a lot of things over a boring car ride this weekend. Here is how it all started:

"" Tuesday, July 23, 2002

POST NUMERO UNO!

Yep.. Im here. Its really funny, i used to do something like this on my old website [back when xoom.com was alive... god rest ye soul~!]; it was a pain in the ass to keep updating everything in a txt file to do it... im glad technology finally caught up to me once again.

Anywho. post numero uno should be a joyous one.. so ill talk about myself in another entry. As you can tell, if your cool, the title of this blog was ripped from my two of my favorite Guns n Roses songs... Estranged and Its So Easy... GnFnR for life! yeah.. first post is going well.. im glad i have such a great audience here tonight. ill get into more concrete things later... just getting her set up.....

THIS BLOG WAS BORN ON JULY 23, 2002 at 1:53am CST.

ain't it fun~
s. ""


More of a whimper than a bang, thats how this whole mess started out it into the world. What ever the antonym of "impressive," is, we should apply it. Maybe not as much as the void that should have been filled by an "impressive" entry would seem more apt. Fear not, by the second post I was assailing the DMCA, something that can still get me worked up years later. Ho-hum. I'll blow out my candles now.


S.

Some new news for your fix.


Stippers and Vaginaplasty. Mmmm.. Tasty.

Yes, indeed, nude dancing an art in Iowa, judge rules

Available: QCOnline / Moline Dispatch [www.qconline.com]

DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) _ Nude dancing remains an art in Iowa.

A Fremont County judge ruled Friday in favor of a nude dancing club owner charged with violating Iowa's indecent exposure law.

Judge Timothy O'Grady said prosecutors failed to prove that the club wasn't a theater and protected under an Iowa law that allows nudity at such venues devoted to the arts or theatrical performances.

The county attorney had charged former club owner Clarence Judy after a 17-year-old girl climbed up on stage at Shotgun Geniez in Hamburg and stripped off her clothing.

'I think it's a little scary,' Fremont County attorney Margaret Johnson said. 'This person was a minor by just a few months, but what do you do if it's a younger minor? At what point do you say 'This is not appropriate.''

Johnson said she'll provide a copy of the ruling to the state attorney general's office, which will decide whether to appeal the case. Johnson said she hopes to meet with state prosecutors next week about the matter.

If the case is appealed to a higher court, it could affirm the rights of dozens of strip clubs in Iowa or deem them in violation of state law.

A 1998 case in Davenport also found nude dancing is a form of art. Given that, the new owner of the Hamburg club expressed confidence nude dancing would remain legal in Iowa.

'It would be pretty tough to try to appeal it to the Supreme Court,' said Terry Rutledge, who bought the club on Monday. 'In all actuality, you don't have be a theater hall, concert hall or anything. You can be a strip club that has nude dance, which the state of Iowa for the second time has recognized that it is art.'

Arguments in the Hamburg case were made during a one-day trial on July 17. Johnson said the intent of the law is to allow movies in a theater where there's brief nudity or for an art gallery displaying paintings of nudes.

Rutledge, who owned the establishment from 2001 to 2005, said he plans to establish an Iowa Nude Art Center Association. The proposed group would bind Iowa nude dancing clubs together to help establishments that may face similar challenges in the future.

'It's just art and I didn't want to see it die,' Rutledge said about buying the club. 'I didn't want to see somebody give up on it.'

/////////////////////////////////////////////



Australian doctors warn against 'designer vagina' craze


Available: Breitbart News Agency [www.breitbart.com]



Australian doctors have raised concerns about clinics offering vaginal cosmetic surgery, warning the trend towards so-called "designer vaginas" may be exploiting vulnerable women.

The Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists said procedures being offered included "vaginal rejuvenation, revirgination, designer vaginoplasty and G-spot amplification".

"What is involved in these procedures is often unclear since recognised clinical nomenclature is not being used," it said in a position paper released this week.

The college labelled the procedures dangerous, expensive and unwarranted, and said it strongly discouraged surgery that was not backed by scientific evidence or clinical trials.

"The real risks of potential complications such as scarring, permanent disfigurement, infection, dyspareunia and altered sexual sensations should be discussed in detail with women seeking such treatments," it said.

The college said women should understand that there were a large number of variations in the appearance of normal female genitalia.

"The college is particularly concerned that such surgery may exploit vulnerable women," it said.

Ted Weaver, chairman of the college's women's health committee, said most of the operations cost at least 10,000 dollars (9,500 US), which he described as an "extraordinary amount of money".

"We feel these operations might prey on people with insecurities and fears who actually need psychological help," he told Australian Associated Press.

"They are also not very anatomically-based and have the potential to cause serious harm."

Doctors in the United States and Britain have raised similar concerns about the surgery.

///////////////////////

Maybe I should start thinking of tramp stamps, as fashion labels? No? Just think of the poor, exploited children of the world... laboring all day for 30 cents per hour to hand craft designer vag's in sweatshops. What a cruel world!!!!

With A Compass, I Still Don't Know Where I Am

Its a skill I doubt many have anymore. Reading maps is for loser's I suppose, just throw a pretty color screen in and call it GPS and people for get things like maps.... topography... and how to use a compass. Its ironic that a single instrument, save maybe for the pen/pencil/writing utensil, would have such a great impact on the societies of the world, but could vanish so quickly. Sure, the pen too is dead in most respects, but the compass is alone, blanketed in a lime bath at the bottom of the great hole. A compass gives direction. A compass is a needle to give you a margin of truth in a vast wilderness. A compass guides ships across the seas so wide that the horizon for days is nothing but seas. A compass is a singular truth, made by man, that is reliable, sturdy, and effective. Sure, I own two GPS units [one of ridiculous color touch screen variety; but as my friends in Chicago and Texas would agree, the interstate highway system at peak rush is not fond of map readers], but in a prized place in The Jeep sits my glass compass and sighting guide. When I'm on foot out in places I'm not sure of, there is a place right on my gear for it. Yet, with an electronic compass on The Jeep's navigation screen, plus my fancy color doo-dad, and the roll of charts under the seat; why carry it? Because, literally, it helps my find my way, even amidst a figurative dissertation. I am lost.

I'm lost because I'm confused. Its not that I don't know what direction to take. Its not that I don't know what direction I have come. I know both of those answers. Without those, even with a compass a map is useless. But I know them. I know that at nearly thirty now, I don't have a lot to show for anything. I'm sitting in the basement of my parent's house. I work a job that really is meant for people who didn't go through college. I've managed to stay single for nearly four years. Just as I know where I have been, I know too the direction to go. At least where it is that I want to go. It just doesn't do me much good looking around in the wilderness, compass in hand. I still find myself just wandering around. It bugs me to know that with the knowledge in my head, the pain in my gut, I still wander. I realize that there isn't a lot of things I can do myself, but something should be better than nothing. I like to say that progress, is progress. But stumbling around is not progress. A compass is useless without the will to move in a direction I suppose.

I calm myself some nights, with the logic that we can not have it all. The sky is never within our grasp any more than the earth belongs to any one person. However, we all push forward with some desire for something. Something gives us our passion to peruse in life. Pursuit is a natural state. Chasing, clutching, clawing for a shred of something to covet all to ourselves. In the end the scrap we hold means as much or less to us, as the path to seize it. So I tell my self that on some nights. The desires of the dream amount to as little as it may, provided the path to it is worthy. So, figuratively I keep a compass, and I keep up my skill. Other nights I argue with my own damned logic.

I suppose I could whine and lament about things longer. But then that little voice would creep up; begging me to think about how fortunate I am. Fortunate for the things I own [even those color screened doo-dads], fortunate to have my health as good as it is, for the clothes on my back, and for the chance to get an education. Which I am. I can't say for once I ever argued that I was not. I picked out my own doo-dads, I beat the shit out of myself, but am wholly responsible for the mess, and even if people laugh at the clothes I wear, I know that all of that too, is as good as the school I picked to attend. So I figure its more of anxiety. Its more like the boredom of sitting around purgatory waiting on my sentence. But its the darker side of it all. Its mainly self induced. I know I don't have the kind of job I want because I wasn't a good student. If I was a good student, I wouldn't need a state education. But I'm not. I'm a terrible student in structured courses, because I only learn what fascinates me. I know that sitting around with my friends at night, or mending some disastrous program, did not earn me a letter to law school. I hope that somewhere someone enjoyed my company, or got some program off the ground that got to someone. I know that if I was healthy enough, I'd have taken that offer so long ago for the Army. I know that if that happened, my ass would be getting thrown out of airplanes over Afghanistan. But my knees wouldn't hold out on those 12 mile runs. My arms just gave out before I could hit 80 push ups and 40 curls. Had I been not so Scott like; I could have made one relationship work. Maybe it wouldn't last for ever and ever, but better than it did. I also realize that if I looked like Brad Pitt, it wouldn't have been so hard to make it work. Or at least I could have had other offers to pick from. But nothing happened like that. Instead I just walk around as lost as everyone else it, even though I know where I want to go. How long do I want to sit around.

Another Day...

I'd say I have had worse days. And I wouldn't really be lying about it. But considering how short this one was; it could have been much worse. That however, doesn't change much.

Overnight there was a storm that raged through the area [errrrr Illinois side of the river, as hardly any of Iowa seemed to have problems]. It knocked down a lot of brush and trees, and some trailers, and brought some wind driven rain. Anyway, most of the Illinois side of the river has no power. Including Menards. But they opened the store anyhow. 6:30 am, and people were screaming about it. But even after we ran out of chainsaws, gas cans, gasoline generators, and all types of lanterns [and most flashlights and D cell batteries], we stayed open. Don't ask me why. I had to ask myself. With two registers open, run off of a generator we opened up, we stayed open until 7pm. All the while letting idiots in the store in the dark, to purchase twizzlers, door knobs, wall paper, plungers, and hornet/wasp spray. All the essentials of a power outage, right? I bit my lip for most of it. But I did draw the line at special orders and people who flat out told me "we just want to look." They, I escorted out. Of course they were pissy. But after getting home, I found out stores were closed all over; most roads are shut down to get there, and the stores that were open limited sales. Best Buy wouldn't allow customers into the store at all--- and would only sell essential items [batteries, back up power supplies, and anything else Best Buy thinks are essentials].

We let all the clowns in. And chased them around in the dark with flashlights. People looking at tile. People purchasing toilets. Old people playing with grab bars. All of them. For what? No breaks. No leaving. No running water or bathrooms [not due to the city, but due to our ridiculous set up that requires an electric pressure booster to split water to the sprinkler systems]. What a wonderful day to be alive in a Menards. Probably the best part of it all though, is how extensive, yet localized the damage is. Again, 5 miles away, across the Mississippi River, really was unaffected... sporadic power outages... but nothing major. The way the clientèle talked today; the world stopped spinning. Just goes to show you how lovely the general public is. I think we did more than most stores did today, effort-wise; but I'm sure the bottom line doesn't show it, but I just can't get past how ungrateful the people were today. Again, its not like this was a war zone, or a hurricane. It rained. Trees blew over. Power went out. Even at Menards.

What gets me the most is how incompetent most of the employees are. Most of them acted as if they had never been in a power outage. True, none of them probably worked through one, but they could have tried a bit harder to make it work. Most bitched about how hot it was. Or how they were crippled without a computer. Some complained that it wasn't possible to figure out pricing for people. Its all very d0-able. Most really just thought it was a game. Many laughed about my rigged up flashlight around my neck; but quit laughing when they were elbow deep in fittings in the dark finding parts for people. No one seemed to understand why I carried a parts catalog and carbon invoices in my pocket all day, but not after I didn't have to wander around to find items, or transcribe skus to people at the registers. Further more, certain departments were crippled because they rely too heavily on the computers to obtain inventory and pricing. Most of mine is memorized; sure its not exact, but I know how deep I am on product, the pricing within a few pennies to a quarter, and I know my skus by memory---they always have laughed at me for that. To me, I made it work better than anyone else, and seemed as little bothered by it as anyone. Store managers were sweating and freaking out, departments were shut down. But my only obstacle were the the people themselves. Not the ones needing things.... but the ones just stomping around.

And the employees who were worthless.... No one seemed to understand the importance of bringing food and water to work. Mine was cold, in a cooler with ice, in the back of the jeep. I thought one girl was going to cry when she realized the power tools were dead and she couldn't scrap a printer for parts. I had the manual versions on my hip. And I could tell her the parts she needed by number and description [thanks in part to my previous lives!] In short, I hope a real disaster never happens around here. These are the people that die of starvation at the grocery store. These were the people that couldn't really rig a day of sales together at the store known for being the king of "rigging" things.

Van Halen - Jump

so what is more 80's than clear acrylic drum kits? a denim vest with a sweat band? maybe spandex so tight it should cause a vasectomy? So... Get your back off that record machine!!! Lace up your Ultimate Warrior leg bands, and get your best leopard print shirt on.... 'cuz... we MIGHT AS WELL JUMP!

Bon Jovi - Living on a Prayer

I'm loopy from the hair spray... maybe some leather and fringe will bring me back... ooooooooooooooooooh we're half way there!!!!!!!!! oooooooOHHHHHH LIVIN ON A PRAYER!!!!

Twisted Sister - I Wanna Rock

and because the hit parade can not continue without it...

Twisted fuckin Sister!

STAND UP AND TELL THE CLASS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE!!!!!!!

Damn Yankees - High Enough

can anyone else on earth, wear THAT outfit as successfully as Ted Nugent does?

On second thought; where would this song even be without Uncle Ted.

Wolds best sunglasses ever!!!!!

Night Ranger - Don't Tell Me You Love Me

we need some 80's hits... STAT!!!!

Getting Read RULES!!!!

Mark down the date; JUNE 26 2008

Today was the day, my first time getting read on the Jim Rome show!

My text made it in at about 1:55 under the UUU text contest...

" UUU Sponsor: the dreaded bathroom uni-towel hand dryer. Scott in Flooded Iowa"


BAM! and there it went!

It made Rome cringe; and run into a quick rant about how much he hates them. As do I. With some comment about, "rather using the floor to dry my hands" it was over, and on to the next text. But I made it in! In almost 5 years, I get my first one read while sitting on the couch doing nothing.

FAT!


GOOD NIGHT NOW!


S. [In Flooded Iowa]

Poop On My Bail Money, Don't Mind If I Do...Do !

Goddammit it happened in Davenport. Here goes! [with mugshot goodness]

Man tries to pay court in dirty pennies, sent to jail

QCTimes.net [QC Times available: June 26 2008]

Article by: Ann McGlynn
A man accused of driving with a defective tire is spending seven days in jail after he attempted to pay a bond in dirty pennies and crumpled-up dollar bills, court records show.

James R. Ward, 60, of Center Junction, Iowa, was sent to Scott County Jail on Thursday by Associate Court Judge Christine Dalton, records show.

Ward was arrested on May 12 for driving a tractor trailer on Interstate Highway 280 with a defective tire. The proposed fine and court costs totaled $68.20.

However, Ward decided he wanted a jury trial. In order to do so, Dalton required he post a $100 bond. She set trial for Monday morning.

Ward brought the $100 bond to the clerk of court Thursday. The money consisted of a box of pennies covered with some sort of unknown substance and several crumpled dollar bills, records show.

Documents do not indicate how much of each he brought. Signs posted in the clerk’s office say they will not accept more than $3 in pennies for payment.

----------////-----------------

Rumor going around is; that substance looks like mud, smells worse and comes from your butt. Way to go crack-y. First off, wearing overalls in your mugshot did bring a smile to my face, but it can't crack the best parts of your act. Secondly; what kind of redneck drives a tractor on the highways... gets caught, then honestly thinks its a GOOD idea to ask for a trial? That and; what the hell is a defective tire? Any how. Back out on the farm, this wouldn't be news unless someone shits in a box; so he had to improvise. Congrads Cletus.

The Mexican .... Navy?

Whats the Navy good for? I mean really. We used to look around for pirates, sink shit, or maybe run through international blockades with a navy. We used to shoot 50 pound chunks of lead at thinks made of balsa and cotton swabs with our navy. We still can float around more air craft than Cambodia, Laos, Lithuania, Morocco, Cameroon, Chad, Niger, Latvia, East Polynesia, and Equatorial Guinea combined have ever seen in their lives. But what good is a navy? Hell most of the jobs you can think of, we dump off on the Coast Guard. But Mexico... she uses her navy to hunt for sharks. ENJOY!

Mexico Navy hunts for sharks after attacks

Reuters News Service [available: Reuters Online]
By Noel Randewich

MEXICO CITY (Reuters) - The Mexican Navy searched for sharks in the ocean near Pacific surfing beaches on Monday, after two bathers were killed and another maimed in a rare spate of shark attacks.

Three boats and a helicopter patrolled the sea while Navy and rescue officials scanned the horizon with binoculars from popular beaches around the southwestern Mexican resort of Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo. They warned surfers not to go far out.

"We've been monitoring the beaches; we've done reconnaissance flights," Rear Adm. Arturo Bernal said, adding that no big shark had been detected yet in the area.

Surfer Bruce Grimes from Texas was bitten on the arm on Saturday off nearby Playa Linda beach, making him the third target of a shark attack in the area in a month.

Two attacks in April and May killed a Mexican and an American -- the first shark deaths off Mexico's Pacific coast in 30 years, according to official records.

Grimes, 49, said he paddled madly toward shore on his board after feeling the unmistakable sandy skin of a shark glide across the bottom of his feet as he straddled his surfboard.

"Then it bumped me really hard. I thought, 'That's definitely a big shark.' I took about three more strokes and he grabbed my arm," said Grimes, who pulled himself free and made it to the beach. He managed to drive himself to a hospital, where he received 100 stitches.

On Friday, Mexican surfer Osvaldo Mata, 21, died after a 6-foot-long (2-m-long) shark seized him, bit off one of his hands and chomped on his thigh. That followed the death in late April of a 24-year-old American who was mauled while surfing nearby.

The Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo government is consulting with experts to determine what could be causing the attacks.

(Editing by Catherine Bremer and Cynthia Osterman)

Iverson Practice!

because two people asked me, what my comments meant on my last post... it means... practice.. practice man. we talkin about practice. not a game! not a game! we talkin about practice.

Dennis Green Flips

One of my favorites....

a slow Me day, busy news day

not a lot else to say about me. im still around. ive graduated from therapy. so... no more hot therapy chick time. hopefully just one more medical appointment before im totally released. so far they have upped my weight limit to 40 pounds; which for most people would be normal. not me. anyhow.. some interesting news.

Burro jailed in Mexico for biting, kicking people

Quad City Times [available: QcTimes.net]

TUXTLA GUTIERREZ, Mexico — A donkey is doing time in southern Mexico for assault and battery.

The animal was locked up at a local jail that normally holds people for public drunkenness and other disturbances after it bit and kicked two men near a ranch in Chiapas state, police said Monday.

Officer Sinar Gomez said the donkey will remain behind bars until its owner agrees to pay the men's medical bills.

``Around here, if someone commits a crime they are jailed,'' Gomez said — ``no matter who they are.''

The owner, Mauro Gutierrez, told The Associated Press he would try to reach a friendly arrangement to pay the men's bills, estimated at US$420 (euro270).

The victims said the donkey bit Genaro Vazquez, 63, in the chest on Sunday and then kicked 52-year-old Andres Hernandez as he tried to come to the rescue, fracturing his ankle.

``All of a sudden, the animal was on top of us like it was rabid,'' Hernandez said.

Police said it took a half-dozen men to control the enraged burro.

Chiapas police have thrown animals in the slammer before, including a bull that devoured corn crops and destroyed two wooden vending stands in March.

In 2006, a dog was locked up for 12 days after biting someone. His owners were fined US$18.

-------------------------------- leave it to mexico.... what are we talking about? a donkey. a donkey. we're talking about a donkeys. not the horse that i ride in the country, not the black bear that kills and maims... but a donkey. we talkin' bout a donkey. i know, i know, im supposed to be a role model, and im supposed to do all that, but we talking about a donkey.

Davenport murder victim a loner, mom says

Quad City Times [available: QcTimes.net]

On the day Victoria Jones buried her murdered son Dane Howard in 2000, her oldest son was arrested for sexually abusing a teenager.

That son, Hano Bailey, always kept to himself, was a loner, she said. That is why it is hard for her to believe that he, too, was shot to death late Thursday in what police are describing as a targeted attack.

Bailey had been out of prison on that sex abuse charge for just a couple of months.

“I couldn't understand when they said someone jumped out of a car and sprayed all those bullets,” Jones said. “The only thing he’s been doing is going to work and coming home. Any of my other sons, I would expect something like that to happen.”

Bailey was shot while walking into his job as a dishwasher at the IHOP on 53rd Street about 11 p.m. He died in surgery early Friday morning at Genesis Medical Center, East Rusholme Street, Davenport.

Bailey, a registered sex offender who was released from the Anamosa State Penitentiary March 5, was shot several times by an assailant who got out of a dark-colored car driven up near the front door of the restaurant. The gunman shot the victim, returned to the car and fled.

Investigators are interviewing witnesses, including customers and employees, said Capt. David Struckman of the Davenport Police Department. They also are reviewing video surveillance from IHOP and surrounding businesses.

The IHOP is far from the central-city area now targeted by police because of increased violence. Bailey’s most recent address at 1125 Iowa Ave., however, is in that targeted area.

The restaurant was open Friday morning, with fluorescent green spray paint marking the driveway.

Bailey has a criminal record that stretches back several years. He was convicted of third-degree sex abuse in 2001 and sentenced to 15 years in prison. He was charged after having sex with a 15-year-old girl at his apartment. He was 33 years old at the time.

Bailey also has convictions for assault, theft and eluding.

His most recent arrest was on May 9 on a drug possession charge. He was at a convenience store at 12th and Brady streets about 10:30 p.m. that night when he was approached by police officers. He threw a plastic bag containing approximately 2½ grams of marijuana to the sidewalk.

The convenience store is a block away from where one of his cousins, Vincelina Howard, 19, lost her life in August 2006, during a drive-by shooting.

Bailey is the son of Jones and the late Hano Bailey III, who died in 2001 at the East Moline Correctional Center while serving a 15-year sentence for criminal sexual assault out of Adams County.

His half-brother, Dane Howard, 17, was shot and killed in October 2000. Two other brothers, Quinton Howard and Dennis Bailey, are in prison on drug charges.

Bailey’s shooting was the fourth in Davenport in a week.

One week ago, Jeremy Booth, 22, was shot in the leg in the 300 block of East 14th Street. Phillip Bogan was charged with interference with official acts; Travis Rush, 17, of Davenport is the accused gunman and is charged with willful injury with serious injury; and Kelsey Reitz, 19, of Davenport is charged with felony eluding.

On Sunday, Kevin Bogan, 18, was shot in back in the 800 block of East 15th Street. He is Phillip Bogan's brother. Lewis Lonedale Lee, 20, of Davenport, is charged with going armed with intent and willful injury with serious injury. Roylee Richardson, 17, is wanted for willful injury with serious injury.

On Monday, several shots were fired just north of Central High School about 4:30 p.m. Officers found evidence of the shooting in the form of spent shell casings and damage to two cars. One of the cars belongs to a Central teacher. It had five bullet holes in it, police said. A second car, which was going east on 12th, also sustained damage, according to police.

There were no injuries in the incident, which Mayor Bill Gluba characterized as three people “emptying” a .40-caliber pistol on a targeted victim.

Services for Bailey are pending.

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Stay classy Quad Cities!

Eye of the [Fat] Tiger

well today was my first day of rehab. it was.... not what i expected it to be. i kinda figured it would be more massage type things at this stage, and more simple flexibility/ agility tests than it was. no. it was... [drum roll] paperwork! yes, not only is this an insurance gimmick, but somehow im supposed to self ascribe my own plan of rehab. they "consult" with that. the nutritionist person asked me a bunch of questions; then gave me some paper work, then tried that "consultive" horse shit with me. don't horse shit a horse i say. my plan? "i think i should eat more fatty meats... maybe even salt cured meats. i think with some prosciutto in my veins, and 3 kg's of roast beef and cheese three times per day; i will be the model of American fitness." she was so pissed she didn't even laugh. pity. i was reminded that with my height and weight, given my age, i am a minimum of 50 pounds over weight. she let that sit before i came up with something else smart to say. she also hammered me some more on my limited physical activity and agility scores. however; does anyone who has ever met me, confuse me with a marathon runner? i reminded her that with a surgically repaired knee, with birth defected foot and gait impairment, and a disdain of sweating in public; i was about a good as it gets. although, we did talk about how much better shape i had been in at different points in my life. regardless, 50 pounds is a lot. that stung a bit. im not real sure about whats going to happen with that. they went on and on lecturing me about swimming as a zero-impact method to exercise; i reminded them of my morbid phobia of being in open water. they mentioned biking, i mentioned uncomfortable seats and gay helmets. they went with working me to jogging and jump rope activities; i said i shouldn't turn into Rocky III's training sequence. after that it was quiet, and the gate keeper let me pass. and like moses at the top of mount nebo, i saw the greener pastures of the land of milk and honey. it was tan, it was mostly fit what i was concerned, and it was blonde. we call her emily. and she made me stop and pay attention. not the kind i should have. see, she gets the unfortunate distinction of me, as a patient. one whom she has to demonstrate odd body posture exercises to; and one who has to get touchy feely with the man of fat and anger himself. im sure tonight, she questions the wisdom of being licensed in pt, or rejects the manipulative hands of god to force her here. i tried really hard not to smile. i tried really hard not to get too excited. if you know what i mean. i tried and failed to certain degrees. what i can say is it was quite clear she had no interest in me removing any clothing, that much was clear. i think i even saw it on her face how degrading it must feel to make like a table dancer for me; knowing i enjoyed it. in all honesty though; she was ... quite beautiful. i really did try my best to not to make her uncomfortable about it. me, being the one on drugs, with back pain, was working overtime making sure someone else was not uncomfortable. i was a bit off too. she took my history, which i expected, for the third time in the day, but also slipped in a few questions i hadn't anticipated.... what high school i went to, where i was from, if i went to college, and if i was married, or dating anyone. the last one really caught me off guard. im sure there is a sound medical reason why. thinking back to my cyst time of fun; they did ask me that as well... it was to see if anyone could repack my dressing for me. [of course not, and what fun that was to do by myself, behind my back]. but i didn't capitalize on it. i should have. all the smart shit comments i had made to that point in the day, i sat pretty quiet and looked straight ahead. and gave her a plain, "no. there isn't anyone like that." she did make a mild amount of eye contact. i found that interesting too. some people are like that. but she did lock right on me when i gave her the drugs and dosages im on, both branded and generics; and could name most of the muscle groups she was targeting in the stretching exercises we did later. enough so that she stopped me at one point and clarified where i worked and what i did for a living. she got the stock answer. "i sell toilet seats to people in trailer parks." she didnt ask me any more questions then. but thats how glamorous i am. i have no life outside of this shitty job. i get diseases, and tear out muscles working it. and now, im accused of being morbidly obese per my BMI score. i am a prize to be had, aren't i? maybe going the way of Rocky III wouldn't be so bad. i do know that heart disease runs on my fathers side of the family. i really not sure about it. for now though, i have 3 more rehab sessions before im released back to the wild. but day 1 is in the can.

... Hitting The Medicine Cabinet Again

well it seems like it lately, but generally i find it pretty easy to avoid the doctor's office. as i learned today, it had been slightly more than 10 years since i had seen my GP. so why this joyous occasion? it has to do with a certain propensity of 'blue to dump ass loads of freight in places they don't belong. in short, i pretty much threw my lower back out lifting heavy shit that was left on the floor. from the floor, picked up, walked up a ladder, then put on a shelf above head height. x 50. thats probably what did me in. anyhow. i went from numbness, to discomfort, to grid lock in about 6 hours. thinking that it was just general soreness; i went to bed. shoes on my feet! [because i cant bend over to untie them] to wake up WORSE than i was. somehow sleep aggravated my condition. quite plainly; it took 20 minutes for me to sit up in bed this morning. i just couldn't move my back. when i did, it was like ramming a steak knife in my hip. charming. after tears of pain, and enough frustration; i called into work. this is a big deal. keep in mind; i didn't call in when i had pneumonia. i didn't call in when i dislocated my knee. and i didn't call in when i thought i had broken my fingers. i called in to say id be late. "NO YOU WONT, NOT WITHOUT A DOCTORS NOTICE" then the inevitable ..click.. so i started calling around two hours later. my best choice was to wait around at the doctors office to see if they could fit me in--- all appointments are full for the day. so i sat there for two hours, in moderate discomfort watching the elderly fart past me, and the hypochondriacs get their fillls in for the week. here i sat, mostly able bodied, wanting to work, but not allowed until Moses and his wife cleared out first. eventually they saw me, took my history, then came back to tell me that any workplace injuries had to be seen by the employer's insured facility. so back in the car, limping and stiff walked i go; i drive across town. to find [of course] the facility has moved. another 20 minutes later, after my parents found out where over the phone for me, i was on my way. to sit in another lobby for an hour before i could be seen. where i also was lucky enough to get a female doctor, who had a sense of humor. the first thing she said was, "why dont you go ahead and strip down for me so we can get a look here" i laughed and told her that was the first time in 4 or 5 years a woman said that to me. she didnt laugh at first. i knew i was dealing with a tough crowd. to spare us the rest of the details; without getting an MRI [is that some new STD they came up with Doc?], they couldn't tell if its a muscle strain or partial tear. no matter. Old Blue will probably just pay for the duct tape to patch it over, or the bullet to end it all; with our insurance. so they offered me some wonderful candies i have not yet sampled before today. [a parting gift, but i thought i solved the puzzle Doc]. add naproxen and metaxalone to the list of drugs ive been on; for those keeping score at home. its some kind of higher grade Aleve and "moderate to strong" muscle relaxant. 5 hours later, im 3 and 3 pills in; and i think i was better off with ice packs and that old tube of Flexall i still had. oh well. the drugs were free. and isnt that what its about; doping us up to infinity with out paying out of pocket! cheers fuckers! and sorry if that saw blade now costs .13 cents more; its because of my new drugs! and the epilogue to my tale of sadness; i also am privileged to receive a follow up visit as well as three therapy sessions before im released to normal duties. because that wont be like pulling teeth to get to. as it was, i went unpaid for the day to day to go through all of this. just another day at the fun farm.

Hamburglar clears the air a bit here; mainly due to my infatuation with him, I thought I could work this bit in too.

Perspective: I’ve Taken Your Clown-Faced Burger Bullshit for Long Enough

[available: The MQ Online Volume 10 Issue 6]

The Hamburgler

Ronald McDonald? More like Ronald McFuckerson. You and your lame-ass clown suit can eat my burger-eating ass. I have two delinquents and a wife in the streets and I never get respect. Now it’s “me” time: Hamburgling time. I have taken your clown-faced burger bullshit for long enough.

For 34 years, I have slaved behind your fake smile. You done me wrong, Ron, and that ain’t right. “All the kids love me!” That’s what you told us. You took all the cred and left us all in the darkness. I know now that was a ray-croc of shit, you never cared about me. All I want to do right now is choke you to death with my red tie with hamburgers on it.

When I got out of the McPrison for stealing those Fish Filets, Mayor McCheese was there. Officer Big Mac still supported me. Even Buzz fucking Lightyear hooked this brother up. But you? Nothing. You were off getting high with that Jack-in-the-Box corporate whore. Learn to respect the little people, asshat.

I looked up to you, man. When I was young, you brought us all in as equals. Little did I know you’d turn out to be such a pube-bucket. All we wanted was recognition of our hard work, but no, you needed the statuses of yourself AND the Ronald McDonald playhouse. You couldn’t get enough of yourself, and now I’m going to quarter-pound your face in with a shit-burger.

Remember that 1990’s “Beanie Baby” craze? Do you remember the night before when, while we were drunk in your basement, I told you my idea to market them? Do you remember my disgusted face as you trampled me on your way to the top? That’s right, dong-captain, you stole my ideas. But never burgle a burglar, bitch. I’m coming after you and your size 23 feet, and I am gonna bust a McCap in your lame-ass yellow jumpsuit.

Dear Lord.... This Article Title Says It All....


PENIS THEFT PANIC HITS CITY!!!

[available: Reuters News Service - April 23rd, 2008]

By Joe Bavier

KINSHASA (Reuters) - Police in Congo have arrested 13 suspected sorcerers accused of using black magic to steal or shrink men's penises after a wave of panic and attempted lynchings triggered by the alleged witchcraft.

Reports of so-called penis snatching are not uncommon in West Africa, where belief in traditional religions and witchcraft remains widespread, and where ritual killings to obtain blood or body parts still occur.

Rumors of penis theft began circulating last week in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo's sprawling capital of some 8 million inhabitants. They quickly dominated radio call-in shows, with listeners advised to beware of fellow passengers in communal taxis wearing gold rings.

Purported victims, 14 of whom were also detained by police, claimed that sorcerers simply touched them to make their genitals shrink or disappear, in what some residents said was an attempt to extort cash with the promise of a cure.

"You just have to be accused of that, and people come after you. We've had a number of attempted lynchings. ... You see them covered in marks after being beaten," Kinshasa's police chief, Jean-Dieudonne Oleko, told Reuters on Tuesday.

Police arrested the accused sorcerers and their victims in an effort to avoid the sort of bloodshed seen in Ghana a decade ago, when 12 suspected penis snatchers were beaten to death by angry mobs. The 27 men have since been released.

"I'm tempted to say it's one huge joke," Oleko said.

"But when you try to tell the victims that their penises are still there, they tell you that it's become tiny or that they've become impotent. To that I tell them, 'How do you know if you haven't gone home and tried it'," he said.

Some Kinshasa residents accuse a separatist sect from nearby Bas-Congo province of being behind the witchcraft in revenge for a recent government crackdown on its members.

"It's real. Just yesterday here, there was a man who was a victim. We saw. What was left was tiny," said 29-year-old Alain Kalala, who sells phone credits near a

Kinshasa police station.

(Editing by Nick Tattersall and Mary Gabriel)

------------/////--------------------

Yeah. I've had this happen. When certain people touch me, my penis has disappeared! WTF. It happens to everyone. In much the same way that Jenna Jameson, and Hootie McBoob at the local slut parlor..errrrrrrrrr strip club; must be some kind of penis sorceresses. Because EVERY time they touch me, they can make my penis grow.

cold keys. thats really all i can say. its been more than two months since ive warmed them back up. in general we haven't missed out on much. i know that the outer, larger, more important world hasn't been saddened by my absence. so a bit of an update is in order i suppose...in no particular order....


i went to, and survived the state of texas. it was a blast. it was my first real vacation. spent about a week out on my own. due to my forgotten cell phone charger, i largely spent the whole time without out any human contact. still a good thing. ive also ascertained that austin, houston, and san antonio are all fantastic places for me to end up some day. lots more about it all; pictures and such... but let it suffice; it was a good thing

i survived pneumonia. its taken about two full weeks to get "moderately healthy" i still have some problems with shortness of breath, and i think i have sinus infection now; and the cough hasn't completely gone away. its better. ill make it. not that anyone seems to care if it would have killed me. just that id always imagined a bit more gun fire or explosions to carry me out of the world... not pints of mucus and fluid in my lungs choking me.

ive officially worked 65 hours in one work week. i did not want to break the 70 barrier. remember too, that im hourly. its not a glamorous nor lucrative job either. so to my lawyer and doctor [or soon to be] friends; try doing what you do for 1/3 the money; and tell me its still worth it. its not. it really is not.

Ahoy!

Time for some useless trivia.



So. I was watching Master and Commander: Far Side of The World tonight, which if you have not seen, by all means, go do so.... it really is that good, even if it takes liberties with the books. And I decided to start poking around the internet about sailing ships of that era.... blah blah... oldest commissioned ship in the world; HMS Victory... didn't know that. Oldest commissioned ship STILL sailing, USS Constitution... DID know that... Then I came across the useless trivia bit. How many US ships, currently afloat in our navy, have been attributed to sinking an enemy vessel in combat? Go ahead. Guess. Your wrong. Waaaaay wrong. Its such a small number, I had problems trying to fathom it. FOUR. A total of FOUR US ships have such a kill number chalked up to them. Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to be "Likes To Hate On The Navy" Guy; but I am going to state, "thats a pretty god damn small number." So whats worse than a random fact? The useless part! So I sat down and did some research... The four US warships to do that are: the USS Porter, USS Carter Hall, USS Simpson, and.... the USS Constitution. Hold up. Thats not good enough to be Scott useless yet! Lets look at who they sunk. Does that matter? Be-grumblingly, yes it does. The incidents involving the USS Porter [a destroyer class], and the USS Carter Hall [a landing ship!!!], involved pirates. Yes. The modern, non-patch wearing, type. But pirates afloat in international waters, attacking law abiding ships, so we smoked them. No laughing matter. Unless, you are the pirate ship. In which case, why the hell would you tape an UZI to the radio antenna, and think you could take down an oil tanker for cash/hostages, with a United States destroyer hovering on the horizon? But pirates don't count. Why not? Haven't you killed a roach before? A mouse? Its a pest. You are 90 times its body weight, and 1820894 rungs above it on the food chain; its not a challenge, and really nothing to boast about. Like shooting down pirates on rubber rafts, or whatever it is they called a ship. The useless portion of the trivia takes us to our final two contestants...... the ones that actually engaged and sunk state-sponsored aggressors in the open seas! the USS Simpson and the USS Constitution. The Simpson, which is a guided missile ship, engaged and eliminated a Iranian patrol ship in 1988. This was in response to Iran deploying mines in shipping lanes, and us really thinking it necessary to smack the stink off their shit for doing such. So as Iran sailed out to the Simpson to engage it, we took that as an act of aggression [rightfully so], and now they sleep with the fishes... yarrrr. Right? Yes. So thats it. One kill. Thats all she has. So drum rollllllllll; that means the biggest killer in our navy, right at this moment..... is made of wood, and rolls with cloth sails and 24 pound cannons. Yeah. Truthfully, the most recent action she has seen, was in the War of 1812, where she took 9 casulties of war; of which two didn't really sink, but were set ablaze and scuttled [the HMS Java, and the HMS Guerriere]. So.... thats it. How useless is that? Enough to take up the space and kill an hour on my part!


So I leave you with some picture of her glory. The deadliest ship, still afloat in the US Navy.