Criminals for Christmas

I find that those that spend their lives trying to skirt the legal system often provide the greatest entertainment for the rest of us. Probably because, as a profession, it tends to attract a disproportionate number of those that are looking for an easy path through life, and that leads to decisions that most of us are able to discard. Thankfully for the rest of us, the greatest harm that they do is often to themselves. For this week, being that it is the Christmas season, I thought that I would take advantage of the situation and introduce you to two of my favorites.

This last week brought the story of drug trafficker who possessed a logic that was destined to lead to his introduction to the local legal authorities. Arriving on a flight from Guatemala, he landed in Virginia where he did his best to slide through customs with two bags of cocaine. I can only guess that the trick to slipping through undetected is to try and look as much like everyone else as possible. No flashy clothing, no sweating profusely as you claim nothing with the customs officer, and no carry on bags that will draw unnecessary attention. Any decent smuggler should follow these basic rules; however, in this case we weren’t dealing with just any decent smuggler.

In his best effort to blend in with the crowd our subject had his stash in his carry on. In principle not a bad thought, unless..............unless your carry on is a cooked chicken. Exactly how does one look casual with a chicken under his arm? Before you think that this must be the dumbest smuggler ever, remember that he managed to get on the plane with a cooked chicken as carry on luggage. I can’t help but think he was feeling pretty confident on the plane ride north after making it through security with his stealthy plan.

Our second contestant has unfortunately never been able to rise above the level of petty thief. And, considering his latest feat, is unlikely to move up the criminal food chain any time soon.

It would seem to me that your mode of transportation would play a significant role during the “masterminding” stage of the crime. For example, if you are going to rob a bank, go out and get yourself a fast car. That is particularly true when your escape vehicle is a bike. When considering a crime, think in terms of quietly slipping down dark paths with your booty inside a backpack. There are both advantages and disadvantages to utilizing a bike as an escape vehicle, and they both need to be taken into consideration throughout planning.

A really bad time to realize the limitations of a bike is during your getaway. This is particularly relevant when you have just heisted a Christmas Tree. It’s a classic case of the crime and the get away vehicle being at odds with each other. Not surprisingly, he was apprehended in very short order as he struggled to both peddle and balance the tree at the same time. My only advice for him is that next year forget the tree, think wreath. Somehow, I expect that we may here from this guy again in the future.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Medical Warnings

For the most part I manage to block out the disclaimers that the drug companies bombard us with at the end of their ads. After telling us how wonderful their drug can make our life, they proceed to rattle off a list of dangers that frequently sound much worse than the condition that they are trying to address.

Nevertheless, this week an ad, (no, I don’t know which drug because I successfully blocked it out), made a statement that left me considering why they didn’t just warn the patient that side effects included being totally screwed. In this case we are all warned that the downside included a sudden and permeant loss of sight and hearing. You have to be honest here, an ad campaign that demonstrated actors playing out each warning sign would be far more entertaining than the real ads.

Now isn’t that special. After begging your doctor to prescribe a drug that you know nothing about other than the actors in the commercial were good looking and deliriously happy, you suddenly find yourself blind and deaf. Let’s assume that you are one of society’s gifted members and you manage to stumble through the house and find a phone. How would know if you dialed the right number? You can’t see the key pad. If by some miracle you get the right number, when the operator at 911 starts asking questions you can’t answer because you can’t hear. The possibilities are endless.

How about this for a warning: Before taking this drug grab your favorite drink in a large container. If you suddenly go blind and deaf it won’t help, but at least you won’t feel so bad about being totally screwed.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Quality Leadership

Just for a moment, let’s consider what we really need from our political leaders. We need people that are visionaries, willing to take on difficult issues regardless of what it may mean to them personally. Those that can see the challenges ahead, develop realistic plans, and then see them through. No gimmicks, no taking positions just to be popular, no staged events that only serve to get them personal attention. In short, those with the ability to identify the challenges, then implement real solutions. Which, naturally, brings us to our next victim, err, subject.

I can only guess that being a leader in the Maldives leaves one with only a small fraction of the global media output. The New York Times and CNN probably don’t have a well staffed office down the street just waiting for your next news conference. So what’s their plan to focus the world’s attention on their tiny country? They are taking scuba lessons. But wait, there’s more; they are also learning hand signals. Clearly, these are men with a vision.

Actually, I must admit that like these guys. As the lowest-lying nation on the planet, the plan is to focus attention on global warming and the very real possibility that they will find themselves slipping below the surface of the ocean by holding an underwater cabinet meeting. Rationale thinking would lead them to the United Nations where they would pound the table and demand justice as ambassadors from around the planet tried to find them on google maps, or even more probable, wandered around and networked while this country of less than a half million was filed away in the “insignificant” file. Fortunately for us, they tossed logic out the window.

Quality leadership? Probably not. A plan to change the world? Probably not. Are they going to be ignored? Very likely. A great plan? Absolutely. If you are going to go down in flames - or in this case sink - do it with style. Besides, who knows, maybe some writer will learn to scuba dive and actually cover the story.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Political Correctness

I try to keep my comments and observations to reflect the lighter side of life, however, there are occasions where events unfold in manner completely devoid of humor. Typically, I quickly file them away in a place that will never find its way to these pages, but there are exceptions.

Recently a city police department released details on a crime to the media where political correctness officially took the leap from lame to irresponsible. I would normally let it pass, but this is the second time in recent months the same police force has forced me to consider the danger of their actions. While I have never been a fan of trying to water down the English language to the point where we strip out descriptiveness, it has taken criminal activity to illustrate that it isn’t simply self-righteousness masquerading as enlightened, but dangerous.

The most recent incident was an attack on a woman walking in a park. Fortunately, aside from some bumps and bruises, the victim escaped largely unscathed. In their formal announcement, the police notified the public that they are looking for witnesses, and we were told to be on the lookout for two 5-foot-4 males. The earlier episode that first caught my attention was even more egregious. An Amber Alert was issued with a full description of the child, the vehicle that she was put in, and once again, the height of the abductor.

What’s missing? How about any useful information. In an effort to ensure that we don’t offend an ethnic, age or whatever demographic you might choose, the police have managed to make the entire male population suspects. Thus, severely limiting the odds that the suspects will be caught. A woman has been attacked, a child taken from her home, and we can’t mention that the suspects are white, black or hispanic because someone’s feelings might be hurt? No mention of if they were twenty or eighty because there is concern of stereotyping? Can we no longer say that the suspect was overweight to avoid making someone watching the report from feeling insecure about themselves?

Someone in the upper layers of law enforcement has totally lost their ability to think clearly. They are making the already difficult jobs of their front line officers far more difficult than they need to be. I can only hope that someone in the decision making process has a stiff cup of coffee and suddenly realizes that they have created an absurd situation only capable of making bad situations worse. If we are seriously try to find someone, their appearance would seem to be relevant to the case. How about job one being to catch the bad guys and protect citizens? If a credible description exists, let’s assume that rationale adults want dangerous criminals caught regardless of their physical characteristics.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

The Perfect Squirrel Gun

Oddly enough, I find myself compelled to construct an entry where I have nothing to say. Given the title of this blog, it was impossible to ignore a recent piece that focused on how to find the perfect squirrel hunting gun. Making it even harder to ignore, the article started by asking the timeless question, “how big is a squirrel’s head, anyway?” I have nothing to add, nothing to reflect on, nothing - well nothing of any relevance. It just felt morally impossible to let it pass without comment.

Full disclosure - I am not a hunter. Not that I have anything against hunting. Living in the northern part of the country, not managing the size of the deer heard leads to thousands of animals suffering and slowly dying during hard winters. I understand deer issues. I understand bear issues. I understand turkey issues. What I didn’t realize was that we had such significant squirrel issues that it merited a detailed analysis regarding the best choice of weapons.

I must confess that I had a hard time reading through the article. Not only couldn’t I get beyond the reality that I was learning the intricacies of hunting squirrels, I failed to grasp why the piece wandered from apple trees to the Revolutionary War to fishing for salmon. Ultimately, a variety of weapons were discussed from muzzle-loaders, to .22 caliber, to17 caliber, (which travels at 2100 feet per minute - who knew), and finally to shotguns.

I read the article, I promise, I just don’t know what to recommend. The most egregious thing that I have ever done to a squirrel is to put crisco on the pole holding the bird feeders to keep them from climbing up and stealing all of the seed. For reference, it works well and has the added benefit of being hilarious when they slide down the pole.

So that’s it, I have fulfilled my obligation to comment on an article about selecting the perfect weapon against the dreaded and dangerous squirrel. As for me, I’m going to stick with the crisco.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

To Serve and Protect

It’s the time of year when haunted houses pop up across the country and the young and old alike wearily parade through the darkness as a carefully orchestrated cast of characters does their best to put a scare into the bravest of us. Now most of these aren’t very scary to anyone over eight years old, but recently one individual took it upon himself to be truly frighting. How? By being incredibly stupid.

Regrettably, in this case our subject was a member of the police, and worse, he wasn’t part of the entertainment. I have to believe that it wasn’t planned, because that would make it even more stupid, which quite frankly is hard to imagine. Or, at least I prefer not to imagine it. After all, spontaneous stupidity is preferable to planned stupidity.

Back to the story. I can only imagine it was the typical haunted house with ghosts and goblins jumping out from behind cardboard tombstones, while shrieking voices called and mummies suddenly came to life. Entertaining, but not quite up to the level of the latest Saw movie. However, this tour wasn’t quite over. At some point our officer decided that it would be a good idea to slip into the darkness and then jump out and surprise an unsuspecting passerby. Not very original I admit; it probably happens every night in every haunted house in the country. Only this time there was a twist - the officer jumped out, cocked his loaded revolver and stuck it in face of a young woman. It worked, according to the report the she was very scared.

As the story goes the department has suspended the officer and is investigating the matter. Official police business and all. Somehow they have to come up with an official sounding response that addresses being a moron. More likely, it gives their attorneys a few days to try and negotiate a settlement.


Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Renewed Insincerity

Our Senate recently took time out from fighting about health care, Afghanistan, the economy and numerous other critical issues to pass a resolution that apparently has the sole significance of making them feel better about themselves. Once again, the people that we elected to travel to Washington and represent us have decided that it was time to offer an olive branch to Native Americans. Ironically, perfectly timed with Columbus Day where we celebrate a European “discovering” a country where millions of people already lived using a map that showed both the Bahamas and the Florida coast. A rather liberal definition of discovering.

What left me shaking my head were the words that our over-educated under-thinking representatives used in their resolution. For example:

# “Symbolic” Interpretation - we aren’t actually going to do anything, again. At least we are consistent.

# “Renewed Commitment” Apparently renewing that we aren’t actually going to do anything, again.

# Apologizing for “Ill-Conceived Policies.” Can’t say that I have ever heard of mass killings, forced relocation, slavery and loss of all civil liberties described quite so eloquently.

Considering the shallow feel of this renewed commitment, it seems fitting that it wasn’t a stand alone resolution. Rather, it was tacked onto a larger bill where it slid through the Senate largely unnoticed, eventually finding its way to the back pages of the few papers that picked it up. The final irony - the apology was added to a bill for military spending. Would it be possible for this action to be less sincere?

The fitting end to this piece of legislation will likely come when the bill goes to the House, where a similar resolution was defeated last year. I suspect that this is all too familiar to the Native American population.


Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas
Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Mr. Wrong

Almost all women have stories of the Mr. Wrongs that have that they have unwittingly allowed into their lives, only after facing the reality that their character was dubious from the very beginning and they should have known better. As an observer, it appears that there is belief, (based on no empirical evidence), among many women that most of these men will eventually mature and become Mr. Right for someone. However, as a male member of the species, I regret to acknowledge that some are only capable of being Mr. Wrong.

Still, some are more wrong than others. They aren’t just Mr. Wrong, they are Mr. Really Wrong. Yet, somehow, they continue to convince normally rationale women to go out with them. One of these dates recently took place that made the average Mr. Wrong look like a good catch.

The happy couple went to dinner on their first date shortly after meeting. Personally, I believe that this is an ideal setting for that initial meeting; a safe, public place where you can size up the latest prospect. Are they capable of having a lengthy conversation? Even if so, do they actually have anything interesting to say? Is it all about them? Are they capable of eating in a manner that doesn’t cause you to lose your appetite? Unfortunately, in this case, our young women learned much more.

At the end of dinner Mr. Really Wrong informed her that he had left his wallet in the car and needed to slip out for a minute. I’m not sure how long one sit alone in a restaurant before realizing that your date isn’t returning, but I’m guessing that after about five minutes you come to terms that there probably isn’t going to be a second date.

At this point we know a lot about Mr. Really Wrong. First, you have to be really shallow to slip out on a date without even the courtesy to let your partner know that you don’t see the relationship going anywhere. Second, only a jerk sticks his date with the check. No doubt our young woman was angry and embarrassed, but the nightmare wasn’t over because the last lesson was that Mr. Really Wrong was a felon - she drove to the restaurant. Stepping out to grab his wallet was just an excuse for him to get his hands on the keys and steal her car!

Try explaining that to your friends.

“How was your date?”

“I’m hoping to see him again - in court.”

Is there a life-lesson here? Only if you plan on running background checks on every potential suitor. On second thought, tragically, that’s probably not as ridiculous as it sounds.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

How to Not Market Higher Education

There are many things for a family to consider when selecting the right college. If you have a child at this point in their life, the marketing efforts put forth can be overwhelming. Letters and packages begin arriving from the most unlikely of places as early as their sophomore year. High Schools sponsor college nights where colleges and universities from across the nation send representatives to stand behind tables and work to lure in parents and students alike. The economic reality is that our centers of higher learning are burdened with very high fixed costs and every seat and dorm room needs to be filled if they have any hope of avoiding the cost cutting knife. With the exception of a small percentage of schools that have the liberty of skimming off only the best of students, it represents a full fledged battle for every student capable of scraping together the money to pursue a higher education.

In this grand competition every school tries to put their own unique spin on similar sounding messages in hopes of attracting attention. Superior education, or at least a good education for the money. Manipulated employment statistics to make you feel good about emerging from the other side of the process capable of paying the large loans that were accumulated. Volunteer groups, clubs, athletics and Greek life offering a full social life. And, always, a safe environment for the precious child. Regardless of the level of education or the full calendar, no parent is willing to send their child to a school where they don’t feel it’s safe, and schools everywhere go to great length to make sure that this is an integral part of their presentation, even if the prospective student ignores that part of the literature.

In my home state there is a university located in an inner city that, deserved or not, battles the image of not being considered entirely safe. Despite this reputation, someone in academia decided that the best thing to do was to scare the crap out of every parent. This fall they proudly began offering a class titled, “Be Prepared: Surviving an Active Shooter Incident.” As a parent of two college students, I am more than a little concerned about a school that seems to be warning students and faculty that this might be a useful class while attending. However, on further look, they did include one safety factor - they are offering the class online so that you don’t have to come to the campus.

I understand their concern, and the tragedy at Virginia Tech has shown that it can happen anywhere. Still, somewhere the admissions staff at this university is sitting at a bar having a stiff drink and wondering how they are going to attract students. “Come to our school and your child will be safe,” isn’t the same as, “come to our school and we will teach your child how to avoid being shot.”

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Deer Hunting

Occasionally, I run across a nugget that makes me frustrated. Other times, angry. Then, there are those incidents that simply leaves me sad.

I live in Northern Michigan where white tail deer are a part of life. For the hunters amongst us, the opening day of deer season is as much a holiday as even the most sacred of days. If you have a garden, be it flower or vegetable, they are frequently a nemesis that has a habit of making it their own personal dining room table. And for all, they are the most feared animal on the roads; difficult to spot, impossible to miss. They can be seen at dusk or darting from headlights; everywhere, yet skittish and nearly impossible to get up close to.

There was a woman who recently had an encounter with one of these graceful creatures where her story and the end result are impossible for me to reconcile. As the story goes, a fawn was happily munching away at her garden when the woman became “frightened” and made an attempt to scare the animal off her property. Her exact claim to the judge was that she was trying to “shoo” it away.

Speaking from experience, keeping deer out of my garden often proves impossible, but scaring them out of the garden couldn’t be easier. A little noise, a slight movement, and they seem to miraculously melt away in the blink of a eye. It may be why that when I do spot a deer in my garden I have a tendency to remain perfectly still and watch, the sight far more valuable that the last of my broccoli.

All of this leads me back to our story. The stated objective was to shoo the deer out of her garden with a shovel. Seems appropriate - wave a shovel at a deer and it is sure to disappear. The problem is that the young deer was actually beaten to death with the shovel. If the animal didn’t immediately dart away, we can assume that it must have been an extremely young fawn, which if you have ever been fortunate enough to be close to, couldn’t be any less frightening, or any less worthy of a shovel to the head. Sorry, simply not possible. She intentionally killed the deer. Her story is a lie, and once again I find myself unable to comprehend some people.

In the end the woman was found guilty of misdemeanor animal abuse, given 80 hours of community service and a $500 fine. I understand not wanting your garden destroyed by animals. I don’t understand this. Put up a fence.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas.

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Stupidity Begets Stupidity

For better or worse, you can quit almost anything you join along life’s journey by simply walking away; jobs, school, teams, clubs, even marriage.  The key word here is almost anything.  The United States Military is conspicuously absent from this list.  Sure, you can walk away; however the repercussions are significant and tend to follow you around throughout life.  

It seems to me that most individuals that walk out on the military probably do so as a spur of the moment decision.  That would explain why we typically find deserters running to the home of their parents or girlfriend.  Obviously, both locations that find themselves at the very top of the list of those now on your trail.  

From the outside looking in, the key in a situation such as this has to be to step back and evaluate what good could possibly come from the decision, and then begin trying to limit the damage. What you need to do is change your state of mind to try and make the best of a bad situation.   At the other end of the spectrum are those that endeavor to make a bad situation even worse - sometimes much worse.  As is true with many mistakes, trying to cover up your crime is a really bad idea.  Trying to cover up your crime by extorting money from the U. S. Government is a really really bad idea. 

This life-lesson brings us to a young man that found himself facing a court-martial for desertion and obstruction of justice leading up to 22 years in prison. All because he just couldn’t stop himself from coming up with increasingly bad and ridiculous ideas.  His dubious plan unfolded along these lines:

Deserting the military and taking refuge in Mexico.  Bad idea.

Sending a text message to the military notifying them that he was gone because he had been kidnapped.  Really bad idea.

Claiming to be a Mexican drug cartel member and demanding $100,000 for his own safe return.  Really, Really bad idea.

To be honest, as a citizen, those capable of conceiving such a plan are exactly the individuals that I want deserting our military.  It’s not representative of the the kind of cognitive thinking abilities I prefer making life and death decisions.  In the end he was sentenced to three years in prison and dishonorably discharged,  probably much more reasonable than the 22 years he could have been sentenced.  After all, he appears to only be dangerous to himself, and then only when thinking.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Political Excuses

I am frequently numb to the words of politicians. Being an equal opportunity skeptic, I have a healthy distrust for both major parties in this country. It may be unfair, but before the first word spews forth I assume that what they are saying is somewhere between manipulative and dishonest.  At the end of the day, their only real interest is in maintaining their own jobs and maximizing air time.  

All of this said  It wasn’t one of our own politicians who uttered the most ridiculous excuse this week.  Moussa Dadis Camara is the leader of Guinea, and clearly has yet to master the art of constructing the teflon coated statement of non-accountability that our own politicians display with such dubious accomplishment.  

Tragically, the people of Guinea are far too accustomed to repressive leaders and an unstable government that keeps the population sentenced to lives of poverty and violence.  This last week brought about another sad incident where the military turned its guns on the public leaving over 150 citizens dead and many more injured.  What brought about this latest incident was the all too common starting point of hundreds of heavily armed young men with no direction.  Camara was scheduled to be at the event, and acknowledging his complete control over the military, this disaster seems to be one that could have been easily avoided.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t in attendance and the soldiers were left to their own devices - which the opposition claims appeared to be very carefully orchestrated.

Then came the obligatory official administration response intended to demonstrate that the new leader had no culpability in the incident.  For all of us that loathe the political public relations advisors that endlessly parade across the television and specialize in sculpting every word that comes from our own leaders, it became apparent why they are a necessary ingredient of the political machine. Camara addressed the media with what he believed was a reasonable alibi for not being at the rally to control his troops; he had lost the keys to his truck.  

People died because he couldn’t find his keys? On second thought, does the president/king/emperor/leader/whatever of this country really drive his own truck to events?  Did he honestly think that anyone would buy this?

The sobering reality is that in countries rich and poor, large and small, leaders make decisions that kill people.  In some cases, it is just done less eloquently.  

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Golf Balls for Angels

There are three kinds of people who find their actions worthy of landing them on these pages. The first, and most common, are those amongst us that have an isolated incident brought about by a momentary lapse of reason. In many ways these are my favorites, because if we are honest, all of us fall into this category, and have found ourselves in ridiculous or embarrassing situations. The second group are those that have an isolated incident, however, it quickly becomes obvious that they have spent a lifetime preparing for such a moment, and clearly the next embarrassment is lurking around the corner. Finally, there are those that are born into the role. The incidents not only aren’t isolated, they aren’t brought on by an accident or even major brain malfunction. They are simply the normal course of life for these select few.

A perfect example recently stumbled across my radar screen. A California man was arrested for scattering over three thousand golf balls in a National Park. Now one can almost concoct a rationale story for such a seemly random act with a little effort. If your property abutted a National Forrest, and you had a never ending supply of golf balls, an open field or forrest might seem like a natural location for a homemade driving range. Not very bright, but also not up to the standards required to be accused of squirrel hunting with bazookas. Alas, recall that this person was singled out because he was born to create moments such as this.

Any possible explanation, or at least sane explanation, falls apart when you learn that he didn’t hit the golf balls into the National Park - he threw them. We’re now clearly plowing new ground, because it takes some thought and preparation to take the same irrational action three thousand times in a row. Taking some artistic liberty, I like to imagine this critical point of the conversation with the Park Ranger.

“Sir, why would you throw three thousand golf balls into the park?”

“To honor dead golfers.”

Perfect. That kind of logic makes my day. I can almost imagine our subject bewildered at the Ranger’s inability to grasp his noble logic.

I fear that the powers to be are considering a fine or jail time; however, what they really need to do is let him go about his business while secretly following him around with a camera. This guy was made for reality TV, and I can promise that this won’t be the last time he does something that makes perfect sense to him that makes no sense at all. Make his punishment to donate his time at a driving range or pick up garbage at the park, but please, no jail time. These characters are harmless, too much fun, and too rare to lock up.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

Cannon Fire

Occasionally, an article is written with such a compelling lead that I force myself to ignore the content and sit back and ponder the possibilities. Not because I don’t want the information, (although most such headlines tend to be followed with meaningless dribble), but the title strikes such a peculiar chord that the words that follow can’t possibly live up to what’s in the bold print, and reality can’t approach what my mind has conjured. It needs to be savored like a fine wine, not gulped like the cheap beer on tap at the nearest frat party.

All of this leads to a headline that just keeps getting better because my imagination has now assumed control.

PA. MAN FIRES CANNON, HITS NEIGHBORS HOUSE

Since there is no possible logical explanation, I feel that I have the liberty to be unbridled in my interpretation. Let’s start with the ingredients needed to create such an event:

Ingredient One: The star of our story needs a cannon. Not a toy cannon, not a replica of a cannon, not a model cannon, but a battlefield quality cannon. Going even further, based on the fact that it was indeed fired, it needs to be a fully operational weapon.

Ingredient Two: If the cannon is going to be fired, it needs to fire something, and based on the subtitle mentioning civil war vintage where many of the weapons were still antiquated, we are free to assume that a traditional cannon ball was utilized.

Ingredient Three: If you have a cannon and cannon ball already in your possession, logic dictates a supply of black powder.

Ingredient Four: Let’s face it, we need the guy in this story. There just aren’t a lot of people that can string together the ingredients and thought process required to blow a hole in the neighbor’s house with a civil war vintage cannon. Now that I think about it, this might be the only person with such a resume.

The next consideration is trying to determine if the event was intentional. Even after the necessary four ingredients are in place, we still don’t have a hole in the neighbor’s house. There is a series of unavoidable events that have to take place:

The cannon has to be pointed at the neighbor’s house.

Gun powder has to be added to the cannon.

A cannon ball has to be inserted.

The fuse must be lit.

The only thing that could make this story better would be if it truly was unintentional, which would require the above list to all take place by accident.

This leaves us to consider the conversation between our over zealous civil war enthusiast and the home owner.

“Sorry about that hole in your house, I tripped over the hose and accidently threw the gunpowder and cannon ball into the cannon. The only way that I could get them out was to light the fuse and didn’t realize that it was pointed at your house.”

“Are you some kind of idiot?”

or,

“Sorry about that hole in your house, a goose flew over and I didn’t have my shotgun so I tried to bring it down with my cannon. Apparently, my shot was a little low.”

“Are you some kind of idiot?

or,

“Sorry about that hole in your house, but your dog took a dump in my yard so you had it coming.”

“Are you some kind of idiot?”

By not reading the article the possibilities are endless.

The final thought that leaves me with a smile is that someone spent years dutifully studying journalism in one of our finest universities with noble aspirations of bettering society only to be assigned to this story. I can almost hear them leaving the editor’s office and muttering, “are you some kind of idiot?”

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

A Life Of Crime

Last week a bank was successfully robbed in La Jolla, California, that has forced me to consider how simple pulling off such a crime can be. Not that I am actively considering a change of careers to adopt a life of crime, but it does appear that it can be pretty easy money if you select the right bank.

For starters, the police reported that it was unclear if the robber had a weapon. Unclear? Somewhere during this episode shouldn’t there have been a weapon flashed? How about the threat of weapon? No? As the story goes our dangerous criminal simply handed over a note demanding money without so much as a single threat.

Still, we have to give our robber a break. In his condition it would have been difficult to carry both a note and a weapon. He was described as a well dressed elderly man with an oxygen tank and mask. It’s pretty clear how this guy slipped away undetected and melted into the city streets. How about we chase this guy down. Anybody? Anybody? Seriously, he had an oxygen tank under one arm and a bag of money in the other, how dangerous could he possibly be?

The final note that I found humorous was that he escaped with an unknown amount of cash. Really? Take the amount of cash that your balance sheet details that you have, then subtract the cash you actually have. What’s left over is what our superman escaped with. The only way to not know how much was stolen is to not know how much cash you are supposed to have. Seems like good information for a bank to have.

So, there you have it, the keys to identifying a bank to rob:

1- Hand them a note and they present a bag of cash. Think of it as a withdrawal slip.

2- Appear to be physically incapable of bank robbery so that they give you a head start with your escape.

3- Pick a bank that doesn’t know how much money they have. That way they can never be completely certain that anything was stolen giving your attorney a ready made defense.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

The End of Youth

What few shreds of my youth that remained in tact were recently unmercifully buried. Not that there are many left, (probably fewer than I acknowledge), but there are certain parts of everyone’s youth that remain sacred. More accurately, should remain sacred.

Admittedly, I pay very little attention to what is consider “in,” be it music, television, clothes - well anything. Part of getting older is realizing that such a concept is little more than the noise of life. To be honest, I find most of it painfully uninteresting. As such, it really shouldn’t be able to effect me in any negative way. Yet, it was pop culture that delivered the painful blow.

Now I understand, and respect, that everyone has a right to make a living. Having raised three children, there are certain financial realities from which one cannot entirely escape. Even the man who gave us “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” later released “Let’s Dance” to help pad his bank account. Still, there are limits - at least there should be. James Dean would have never introduced his new line of jeans at Walmart. The Grateful Dead didn’t add a disco set to their concerts in an effort to stay relevant in the late seventies. Miles Davis never tried to reach out to the Kenny G fan base to gain accessibility. The Rolling Stone remained above the latest fad……..

That was until last month when the iconic magazine made the philosophical leap and put the Jonas Brothers on the cover. Not that I have anything against boy bands, their smiling faces and cookie cutter hooks have been captivating pre-teen girls since the days of Pat Boone. They will always have their place; it just won’t be anywhere near my place. Had I missed something? Apparently, yes. Admittedly horror struck, I leafed through a copy and felt my youth crushed. Icons of bubble gum pop, endless fashion advertisements and the occasional political article that came off more self-indulgent than thought provoking filled the pages.

This magazine didn’t cover what was cool, they defined what, and who, was cool. This is the same magazine that didn’t put Aerosmith on the cover until after their third platinum album because they were worried that they might prove trendy. The Jonas Brothers, seriously? Who in marketing decided that the future of the magazine was to capture the kids watching the Disney channel?

The Rolling Stone of my youth had a defined place. Not just in culture, but even on the magazine rack. I stood for a moment, then did the only thing that I could; I placed my copy of the magazine next to the teen magazines where it now belongs.

Thanks for stopping by - I'll keep my eyes open for more people Squirrel Hunting With Bazookas

Comments: squirrelhuntingwithbazookas@hotmail.com

The Big Day

My sister recently attended a wedding reception for a neighbor that can only be described as a bit different from those I that normally attend. For starters, my sister has lived near the couple for many years, and until she received the invitation, didn’t realize that they weren’t already married.

The tone for the reception was established as soon as she entered the Moose Lodge. While a carefully crafted archway over the entrance can hardly be considered innovative, constructing one from empty Budweiser beer cans is an approach I was unfamiliar with. I can only guess that such a welcome of stale smelling cans becomes a reasonable alternative only after the wedding party has consumed the requisite amount of beer to generate the required building blocks. At that point, a lot of things suddenly become good ideas.

Once through festive archway, the theme of the wedding became abundantly clear. The happy couple had settled on camouflage for the color theme. Even the blushing bride had camouflage finger nail polish and elbow pads. The bridesmaids were featured in white tops and camouflage skirts and the groomsmen - well it was too late by the time she arrived to catch them in full attire - were at the bar still wearing tuxes, however, had shed their shirts and were bare chested.

Before anyone begins to categorize our newlyweds as being on the less cultured side of the bell curve, I would ask that you visualize the final scene in our story. Well into the reception the bride, who had been absent for a prolonged period, happily entered through the back door with a fork in one had, an oven mitt on the other, and with a big smile thanked everyone for their patience and announced that the pork was almost done. To be sure, the bride preparing her own food at the reception while still wearing her wedding dress won’t suddenly propel one into the social elite; however, I would ask you to note the most important part of our story - she was smiling. Her reception was everything that she wanted it to be, and was thrilled with the outcome.

Consider that while recalling all of the over-orchestrated insufferably boring weddings and receptions that we have all been sentenced to endure. The father of the bride stands in the corner throwing back drinks while suffering chest pains as he doubts if the marriage will last longer than the payments on the second mortgage that was required to fund the spectacle. The bride, who has spent the last month making life a living hell for everyone around her as she juggled the hundreds essential details required for the day of her dreams, has spent the day vacillating between tears and anger as she faced such unforgivable catastrophes as runners that wouldn’t lay flat, pink flowers that were clearly mauve and champaign bottles not properly centered on the tables. Cultured? Yes. Fun? No.

For me, I can only hope that one day I am fortunate enough to arrive at a reception hall and be greeted by a Budweiser arch. As for those of you still to plan your big day, go for the day that leaves you with the same smile as our bride.

Thanks for stopping by - I’ll keep my eyes open for more people Hunting Squirrels with Bazookas.

Comments: huntingsquirrelswithbazookas@hotmail.com

Modern Warfare and Bambi

Regardless of where one calls home, our surroundings relentlessly force their unique perspective on each of us, (despite our self-proclaimed worldliness). The backdrop for those mundane real-life moments is unavoidably colored by the influences lurking outside the front door. The day-to-day happenings of life, what each of us considers normal, or more precisely the lens through which we observe such events, cannot escape the environment that wraps itself around us on a never-ending basis.

I unfolded the daily newspaper and my eyes instantly fell to the lead story which referred to guns, specifically machine guns, and music. Okay, I’m game, I read on. It seems that a local music festival was interrupted by a stray bullet, but not just any bullet, a 50 caliper machine gun bullet. No one was hurt, the show went on with most of the crowd unawares and only a shattered window to show for the excitement. In short, the lead story was that they didn’t have much of a story.

To put the event in its proper perspective, I live in a small town in Northern Michigan, and as such, carry the influences of what rural life brings. In many places the first thoughts that would flash into the reader’s mind would be of gangs, violence, drug deals or some militia group crawling around the woods waiting, and hoping, for an invasion, (admittedly, a realistic candidate in these parts). However, this is where my environment injected itself into my thought process and I turned to my son.

“What are the odds that whoever owns that machine gun has used it to hunt deer?”

“100%,” he replied without looking up from his computer screen.

It occurred to me that if I lived in a place such as Boston, Chicago, or Los Angeles, (let’s be honest - most places on the planet), a story about a machine gun at a music festival wouldn’t typically bring to mind a testosterone filled twenty-something carrying a six pack and unloading on an unsuspecting doe trying to enjoy dinner. For reference, the person hunting deer with a machine isn’t capable of only one bad decision, therefore, would most assuredly embark on his adventure with alcohol tow. My only hope is that he got deep enough into the Budweiser that he lost his patience and decided to empty his gun on the nearest tree and leave the deer for another day. It would only be later that he would discover that one can’t replenish the required ammunition at the local Walmart.

The story may leave those not familiar with this particular brand of logic believing that those of us from these parts are a bit backward at times, and looking back over this piece, that’s an understandable conclusion. However, at least in our case, the only human likely to be shot is the owner of the gun, (sometime after the fifth beer).

Thanks for stopping by - I’ll keep my eyes open for more people Hunting Squirrels with Bazookas.

Comments: huntingsquirrelswithbazookas@hotmail.com

Hunting for Stupidity

It’s important to know if you’re stupid. More precisely, it’s important to know if you’re prone to do stupid things.

Don’t get me wrong, being stupid is nothing to be ashamed of. Personally, if an object has an engine, or for that matter requires a reasonable level of mechanical aptitude, I am well aware that I have entered into my personal “stupid zone” and it is unlikely that playing in such an arena will result in anything but pain. The problem comes about when individuals fail to acknowledge their stupidity, which frequently not only leads one down destructive paths, it invariably leads to the next stupid decision, (back to that later). To make my point, consider a recent news event:

The scene: a police officer was on patrol when he realized that he was the target of a golf ball.

This is a text-book example of needing to realize that you are prone to stupid decisions. If you think that targeting a cop with a golf ball is a good idea, you have entered into the stupid zone on a number of levels:

Unless your first name is Tiger, the odds of you hitting the officer are well beyond your ability to calculate them, (based on what we can already assume regarding your intellectual capabilities).

If by some miracle you do make contact, it’s probably safe to assume that your plan wasn’t thought through in detail and you have left ample evidence behind to convict you of:

Killing a law officer

Assaulting a law officer

Stupidity

If you miss, you are still guilty of:

Attempted assault on a law officer.

Stupidity

At this point, your only hope is that your golf game rivals your cognitive thinking ability, and you missed the officer by such a wide margin that he failed to notice. (Note that being bad at multiple things is your only hope of salvation). However, in this case, the intended shot was close enough to attract the cop’s attention.

If one makes the decision to launch a golf ball at a police officer, it is likely that the situation will continue to deteriorate, and in this case, our subject didn’t disappoint, (please reference above where I noted that one bad decision leads to another, or even more likely, a series of bad decisions). Rather than stepping back and asking ‘what else could go wrong,’ our subject stood in the window and watched as events unfolded. Realizing that he represented the one and only possible suspect, when the officer approached and inquired about the origins of the golf ball, he quickly confessed, (finally a good idea). However, he also provided a clear line of sight into his house, (a bad idea), so that the cop could see his stash resting on the table.

Our hero now has attempted assault on a police officer and possession of marijuana. However, alas, possession has a way of leading to a search warrant, which in this case, turned up a number of mature plants awaiting harvest. The felonies are beginning to stack up. All of this because the suspect failed to ask himself if trying to hit a cop with a golf ball was a stupid thing to do.

I stopped reading the article at this point because it was clear to see what direction this was heading. I have little doubt that “the accused” was unable to stop digging his hole and followed up the episode with a series of increasingly stupid statements to the police and attorneys that eventually carried over until he found himself standing before a judge, who must have been trying to decide if the episode was humorous or a sure sign of the approaching apocalypse.

Robert Fulghum tried to sum up life’s lessons in his book Everything I Really Needed To Know I Learned In Kindergarden, with a list of timeless observations. It’s a wonderful read for those prone to over think life; however, although it probably wouldn’t have helped sales, I can’t help but feel that including Don’t Do Stupid Things would have been a worthy addition.

Thanks for stopping by - I’ll keep my eyes open for more people Hunting Squirrels with Bazookas.

Comments: huntingsquirrelswithbazookas@hotmail.com