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Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!

Two twelve year old boys in New York have been arrested after they allegedly pushed a shopping cart off of a building, which struck a mother in the head and put her into a coma.  Reports are that the two miscreants were joking and laughing as they were led away.

I thought there was little left in the world that would shock me, but yet again, I was wrong.

Look, I’ve played pranks in my day.  The culmination was probably the night two friends and I tied a rope around a mannequin and hung it from a highway overpass somewhere in the wilds of North Dakota.  If I recall correctly, that one required a county sheriff to pull off the road and investigate.  No-one got hurt, and other than a police officer who had to get out of his warm cruiser on a crisp late October evening, no-one was inconvenienced.

Here we have these two twits who think it’s cool to push shopping carts off the side of buildings onto crowded sidewalks.  Since they’re only 12, I assume they’ll be tried as juveniles, which means at best they’ll get a slap on the backside and told to not do it again.  Their parents will go on the nightly news and cry about how their kids were just confused and out for a bit of fun, and how sorry they really were.  When shown footage of their sons smiling for the cameras and not looking remorseful at all, the term “your lying eyes” will probably be uttered in some form.

I had a conversation with both Little Bear and Junior when they turned 12 or so, and I’m due to have it with Girlie Bear.  Basically, it summed up how they could get into trouble that I couldn’t help them with, and their chances if they were ever arrested.  To put it in a nutshell, if they find themselves in jail, I suggest they get comfortable, because I’m not bailing them out.  It matters little to me whether or not they actually did what they are accused of, or if it was a friend that got them into trouble.  Simply being in a situation that might bring the attention of Officer Friendly is reason enough for them to spend a night in jail.

Junior got through high school without an arrest record, and things are looking good for Little Bear.  Hopefully their sister and little brother follow in their footsteps.

Something has changed in our children, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is.  Whatever it is, we, as parents, need to find and eliminate it. 

When seconds count

There’s a cliche in the gun rights/personal security community:  “When seconds count, the police are only minutes away”. 

For a group of people in Minneapolis, it could have read “the police are only a few feet away”. 

A group of friends leave a club, are accosted by a group of ‘youths’, and a fight starts when the men in the group stand up to protect the ladies.  One of the ladies runs to a police station that is 30 feet away for help, and is rebuffed.  One of the men who got his head beaten upon goes to the same station, and is chased out by the police.  Read that again.  A citizen, bleeding from a beating he received within spitting distance of a police station, goes there to ask for assistance, and is forcefully ejected from the building. 

The excuse from the Minneapolis police seems to be “We were busy that night”.  I’ve been in downtown Minneapolis. The police are always busy there.  I guess this means that there’s always something better for the police to do than to stop the savage beating of law-abiding citizens at the hands of a pack of ‘youths’ within eyesight of the police station.

People, if you’re looking for an example of why you should carry a gun when confronted by an anti, here you go.  Three men got jumped on by 10 ‘youths’ and got bloodied.  If one of them or one of the ladies with them had been carrying a pistol that night, the situation would have ended quite differently.  If the animals that attacked them had been just a little more adamant about delivering a curb stomping, someone could have easily gone to the morgue. 

Be responsible for yourself.  Carry your gun. Carry a knife.  Use your tools, your hands, your feet, your teeth, a loose piece of paving, anything to defend yourself.   Make it hard for EMS to tell where your blood starts and your assailant’s blood ends. 

The police are under no obligation to protect you.  They are there to draw white lines around your body, take a report, and ‘try’ to bring criminals to justice.  Even if you could carry around a cop, nothing is going to get him to stop an attack on you and yours unless it’s a personal priority for him.  No-one in his chain of command will fault him for not intervening to keep you out of the hospital or the morgue.

H/T to Radley Balko on this one.

Who Lives in a Jail Cell Under the Sea?

A convenience store in Florida was robbed the other day.  While this is probably not an uncommon occurrence, the fact that one of the robbers disguised himself by wearing a Sponge Bob Squarepants costume makes this noteworthy.

No word yet on the real identity of the assailant, although police advise the public to be on the lookout for a short person, with a squarish body form and bright yellow skin, who is wearing only tighty whitey’s.  Suspect is believed to associate with big lunks shaped like starfish and squirrels wearing scuba gear.  Authorities also advise us to not approach the suspect, as his ability to annoy can be deadly at close range.

Silliness, or Don’t You Have Something Better To Do?

In what has become a common occurrence, police in Georgia shut down a lemonade stand run by three girls who were trying to make money to go to a water park.   The police say they required several licenses to run such an enterprise, and are working with attorneys to find a compromise that allows the girls to sell their wares.

Really, Barney?  Is the crime rate of Midway so low that the local constable has nothing better to do than to harass little girls who are trying to sell lemonade?

Look, they’re not looking to put Coca-Cola out of business with the lemonade recipe that Grandma smuggled out of the old country.  I seriously doubt they’ll sell more than a few cups of lemonade to their friends before they give up and go do something else.  They’re children, it’s what they do.  Things like this are what kids are supposed to do.  Run lemonade stands, babysit, mow lawns, wash cars.  They’re all ways that younger kids can learn how to make a dollar without begging for it.

This isn’t about public safety.  This is about a government functionary knowing the letter of the law chapter and verse and applying it in a way that flexes his authoritah muscle.  It may not be the fault of the poor beat cop who had to hassle the young ladies.  It could very well be some mindless drone at city hall who is sick and tired of young people learning that if you do something that other people like, they may very well pay you for it.  If the bureaucrat who passes out the business licenses saw the lemonade stand, he could very well raise cain and demand the the police put a stop to the nefarious vending of cold lemonade without a license.  Heaven forfend these young ladies learn a rudimentary lesson in how much it costs to make a glass of lemonade and how to figure out a meaningful profit from that.

In the area where Little Bear and Girlie Bear’s mother lives, you have to have to pay for a permit to hold a yard sale, and you’re only allowed to hold it on certain days of the month.  Now, I can almost see having designated days for such events because of the traffic and parking issues on the city streets.  But to make someone pay the city a fee to allow them to spread their unwanted belongings on the front yard on a Saturday morning is asinine.

What’s next?  Is the boy down the street going to need a groundskeepers license in order to mow lawns over the summer?  Is his sister going to have to get a daycare license in order to babysit a few nights a week?  Am I going to need a mechanic’s license to change my oil in my driveway?

The government is not our friend in these circumstances.  When an anally retentive jerk decides to apply the rules for large businesses to our children and to our lives, we’ve gone horribly wrong somewhere.