Wow, I’m kind of Offended!

Where’s my safe space? Where’s my bottle? Where’s my reparations? Okay, a bit sarcastic…


I am offended though. After the horror of Elementary School kids being shot in their own classroom, Elementary School Kids? The politicians, the media, and everyone else jumped in with both feet to start pushing gun control again.

Our moronic halfwit in chief had to shoot his mouth off again with his “Deer in Kevlar,” and “People couldn’t buy cannons,” bullshit. So Joe, you’re saying that back at the founding of this country we could go and buy Human Beings, but not a Cannon?

You do realize Joe, that early cannons could be produced by a decent blacksmith with a large enough quantity of iron and a knowledge of casting large metal objects. Those cannons, had no moving parts! If you get down to it, an early cannon is nothing more than a large pipe with one end blocked and a small hole for a fuse. I swear, the moron in chief would do so much better if he just kept his mouth shut.


I digress…

I’m offended that these people couldn’t let the nation take a breath. They couldn’t allow us a freakin moment to process the enormity of what happened.

Instead, these animals had to try to capitalize politically on the tragedy.

Shame on them! Shame on them all!


It’s since come out that the killer wasn’t a deranged white supremacist. (Apparently an LA Times reporter was disappointed about that.) Although the shooter was certainly deranged!

He’d purchased the weapons legally, submitting to the required background checks. He had a number of red flags that were completely ignored. He shot his grandmother after saying he was going to do it on FaceBook, then he went back to Facebook to say he’d shot his grandmother.

He posted on Facebook his intention to shoot a school. He sent via a social media platform, unsolicited photos of guns to a female who was a complete stranger.

He had, according to two different acquaintances from his High School, cut his own face, (for the fun of it…) Others who attended High School with him said that he’d always been a bit off, scary, overly aggressive, or easily enraged.

He is reported to have been shooting at the school, after crashing his vehicle and making his way over a fence onto school grounds.

It took police 10 minutes to respond to the reports of shots fired. There was no School Resource Officer at the school, (in other words, there was no-one present to mount any kind of defensive action.) Some reports are saying that this killer had time to barricade himself in the classroom, and that he may have entered through an unlocked exterior door.


There are many questions to be answered where it comes to the police response.

One for example is that an off duty Border control agent received a message from his wife about an active shooter incident, while he was in a barber’s chair. This Agent has a child in that particular school and armed himself with a shotgun he borrowed from his barber. Then he went to the school and entered the wing where his child’s classroom was located. He helped get students from that wing, including his child out of the school and to safety.

The question here is, how does an unarmed off duty boarder agent have the time to arm up, get to the school, make entry, and start getting children out of the school with help from a few deputies, while the main force of police is still standing around in front of the school?

I think the hearings and testimony will be most interesting to read through.


To be sure, this is a tragedy. It is not however the fault of the gun, the gun manufacturers, the NRA, or gun lobbyists (as Chief Moron in charge would have us believe).

This tragedy is 100% the fault of a single deranged individual. It was his hand that loaded the gun, his hand that pulled the trigger, and his insanity that drove his actions.

The failure here is not that he could legally pass a background check and purchase a weapon.

The failure is that no-one paid any attention to the insanity the person before them presented. Even if they did pay attention, there was nobody to call, and no method to get this person the help they needed or the hospitalization they deserved.

Some of his coworkers have spoken about how easily he became agitated or angry while at work. It’s not like nobody noticed, “This child ain’t right.”


If someone reported him to the police, the police had no actionable violations, even if they had arrested him he’d be out in 8 hours or less. If someone reported him to social services, they had nothing more than a 72 hour hold they could put him in and probably no hospital with an open bed.


That’s the situation I live with in my neighborhood. There’s a female human, (I use that term loosely,) up on the next block who routinely screams she’s going to shoot, stab, castrate, bludgeon, or otherwise kill the man she lives with. Her behavior is no longer limited to just her house or property. Now her physical violence is being inflicted on the neighborhood. Her verbal violence has become commonplace over the past 20 years and no-one pays much attention to her ranting and raving.

The police can’t touch her, social services can’t touch her, and it’s my belief that she’s a ticking time bomb. Her saga will only end when she’s harmed someone and shattered and unknown number of lives.


Sounds familiar doesn’t it?

It sounds a lot like the Texas shooter, or the Brooklyn grocery store guy, or, or, or…

The problem to address is not the guns. The problem that needs to be addressed is a fundamental one.

Where does my right to be safe and secure in my person and property begin, and where do a deranged person’s rights end?

If lawmakers want to make laws and spend money, why don’t they start by working on mental health legislation?

There are a shit ton of Americans who have one or more guns in their homes who have never gone on a shooting spree. On the other hand, there are a lot of Americans who are, (or were,) in real need of mental health services and can’t access them. Those folks are the folks that have a propensity to go on shooting sprees and kill innocents.


Just for clarity’s sake. AR-15 does not stand for Assault Rifle 15. It stands for Armalite Rifle model 15.

Many gun manufacturers make AR-15 rifles, each with their own flourish and manufacturer label. At its heart, an AR-15 is an AR-15, and all of them work the same way. The legal ones are semi-automatic, (one round per trigger pull,) all are based on the original modular design of the Armalite Rifle company.

One can be purchased legally in most states for anywhere from $800 to $3000, depending on options.

Our politicians are quick to seize on the AR-15 as something that must be controlled. Okay, so they want to ban assault rifles. What exactly is an assault rifle? If politicians succeed in banning AR-15s. They’ll only remove a portion of available guns. What about the other guns? The rifles and handguns that aren’t banned? A lever action rifle, or a pump action shotgun, a revolver, or a semi-automatic pistol, all fling a wad (or wads) of lead at high velocities. All can inflict injury and all can cause death.

When lawmakers are talking about gun legislation what are they trying to legislate? The number of rounds that can be fired before reloading? The speed at which rounds can be fired? The caliber of the rounds being fired? What exactly are they trying to control?

Because the lawmakers are so imprecise about what they’re legislating, it leads me to believe that they’re trying to take away all guns. Regardless of the constitutional violation of doing so, if lawmakers were to succeed in removing all guns. (An impossible task) I’m sure that people would simply migrate to Compound or Recurve Bows. Or as in the case of the UK, knives.


The point is, some people will always seek to kill other people. In the case of deranged individuals, the weapon is far less important than the motivation. I think it was in Japan, one knife wielding crazy person wounded 20 people on a subway platform. I don’t recall how many died. This guy was walking through the crowd stabbing people and a lot of the people on the platform didn’t realize there was a threat at first.

Which leads back to addressing the real source of the problem. Mental health. Lawmakers need to enact legislation that provides the services to address mental health issues and where necessary remove individuals from society at large that are obviously a threat.

People who, for instance fantasize about killing, people who consistently state they’re going to kill someone specific or people at large, people who post threats on social media, etc.

When a neighborhood calls the police repeatedly about a disturbance where someone is screaming, “I’ll shoot you, I’ll stab you, I’ll kill you,” perhaps the police should send the person somewhere that they can get help. What should not happen is that the neighborhood stops reporting the issue because nothing is ever done.

School teachers are taught to look for signs of abuse in children. Perhaps they should also be taught to look for signs of mental health issues, and report them. Early intervention is much better than having to stop an active shooter.

So many of our politicians, pundits, and wags, jump up on their soapboxes after a tragedy like the Texas shooting. They demand, “Commonsense gun control”. I say they’re screaming to fix a symptom, not the disease.

New York and California have some of the most restrictive gun laws in the nation. I think both state have “Red Flag” laws where the guns of an individual can be seized and held in police custody until the owner is proven fit and competent.

I ask how is it possible that you can have a grocery store in New York become a killing ground? How is it that you can have a San Bernardino Shooting at a county office? If gun laws worked, these shooters wouldn’t have had the guns in the first place.

How about we take the elephant in the room outside? Let’s rise to the challenge of addressing that mental illness isn’t being treated, but it should be.

To our politicians, pundits, and wags. At least have the decency to let the bodies cool before making your political grandstand moment.

Oh why can’t my life just be simple?

This week started out pretty good.

The neighbor whose house and cat I’ve been looking after is apparently getting better and may be coming home. His Niece and her Husband came down to clean up his house and make it suitable for someone using a walker.

It meant for me that I didn’t have to look after the cat and for at least a few days had the opportunity to look after my own affairs. That was a relief and my mood was pretty good.

For my assistance, and their using my dump access card, they agreed to save some space in one of their dump runs for various yard trimmings that I’d piled up around the yard. They’d rented a large pickup truck and my yard stuff would fit nicely on top of the other stuff they were tossing from the house.

I was out in my yard bagging the stuff to make it easier to load.

It was a lovely spring day and I was in a good mood. The sun felt great and for the first time in months I was warm and cheerful. Progress, warmth, and getting things done always makes me a happy camper.

Apparently the crazy lady in the neighborhood was enjoying herself wandering up and down the main street that all the residential streets intersect with. Aside from her occasional outbursts I was in my own little serene world.

This all went to shit.

I was almost finished with my chore when the crazy lady starts screaming the name of a dead woman who lived across the street from me. While she’s screaming the dead woman’s name she’s walking toward the gate of the house.

The house in question has been sold, purchased, and renovated entirely by the new owner. Seeing crazy heading toward the house, knowing that the former occupant was dead, and that crazy had previously kicked the door in, terrorizing the former occupant I was left with a choice.

I could watch the fun as she pounded on the door, or kicked it in, setting off the alarm system and summoning the police… Or I could say something.

In future, I’ll keep my mouth shut and enjoy the live police show.

On this occasion I simply said loud enough that she could hear me, “She’s dead. She’s been dead for over a year.”

This simple statement of fact resulted in crazy targeting me. As I’ve mentioned occasionally elsewhere in this blog, Crazy has a mouth on her that could make the entirety of several military forces blush at once. The fury of her insanity spewed forth in a rabid staccato of nonsense and obscenities and she started walking back down the street toward me. She was practically frothing at the mouth.

This sort of thing has happened before and she usually sputtered out then wanders off.

Wednesday, she didn’t sputter out.

She demanded to know who I thought I was telling her that the neighbor was dead. She further said I was a liar because she’d just spoken to the neighbor.

I replied, “As you wish,” and went back to my work. This enraged her further, she picks up her pace assuming what I suspect she felt was an appropriately intimidating and aggressive walk. Were she a 4 year old and not spewing foul obscenities every step of the way, it would have been funny.

I still didn’t take her as a threat, in part due to her size and in part due to the comical walk. That being said, I was monitoring her approach. She demanded I produce ID as she stomped onto my property. I asked her what good that would so since our ID has our post office address, not our actual physical address printed on it. ID tells her nothing.

This seemed to cause a momentary pause in her diatribe. Perhaps some logic process attempted to engage, and was promptly choked to death by the crazy raging in her brain. She then told me that she owned my house and that I needed to get off her property.

This annoyed me a lot. Her rage and aggression directed at me in close quarters was starting to really piss me off. Not to mention her yappy ill behaved Chihuahua that has on more than one occasion tried to bite me while I was doing yard work, by sneaking up on me from behind.

One of these days that little piece of shit is going to tangle with my weed whacker!

I said, “If this is your goddamned house show me the cancelled checks!” I know this was the wrong thing to say, I knew it the minute it left my lips.

Some part of me recognized that I was being drawn into her crazy and that wasn’t the way to go. That part of my brain gave me a disdainful “Tut tut tut” and called me a dumbass.

This internal dialog stopped me from peppering Crazy with a bunch of followup questions like, “What’s the mortgage payment? Who holds the mortgage? What was the sale amount of the house? Is there a second?” I think in my growing anger I was still considering the possibility that I could somehow win.

When she said, “The checks aren’t canceled,” I realized that you can’t win with reason against this kind of crazy.

At around this point she punched me…

I registered impact and minor damage on my right upper chest. Now I was facing a crisis.

Let me explain, and please remember all of the following happens in two or three heartbeats.

When someone hits me, I tend to instantly lose control. The world narrows to the person who hit me and I’m looking for openings and weaknesses. I start looking for ways to break bones, dislocate joints, and I’m not thinking about things like fair fight or Queensberry rules. I’m thinking about how to efficiently terminate the threat while looking around for potential weapons at hand.

In the past, this has resulted in epic rage and coming dangerously close to killing. In those instances it was only friends being present, dragging me bodily away that stopped me. Even so, whoever hit me from then on would literally crawl out a second floor bathroom window to avoid me.

That rage scares me more than anything else in my life. During the rage, I’m not there, when it’s over I have little to no memory of what I’ve done. At most, I’ll retain images or almost sexual gratification, but no clear timeline of events. It’s a monster that I keep chained in my head and never let out because I fear that the monster would overwhelm me then I’d lose myself in it.

This time I was completely alone, and that part of me that I fear most, was breaking free.

It also didn’t help that every bit of psychological, emotional, and most physical abuse perpetrated on me throughout my entire life has been inflicted by women.

Women who were bullies and knew they’d get away with it because when no one was looking they could. They knew they had the upper hand, if I responded, they’d immediately revert to the victim and poor defenseless girl roles.

Then as I was taking whatever punishment for raising my voice, or responding to their aggression they’d smile slyly through their fake tears, knowing that they’d won, because they’d baited me, or goaded me into exactly the situation they wanted. Far too often they’d do it just for fun, or a promotion, or just because they didn’t like that their obvious crocodile tears didn’t elicit sympathy from me.

Hey bitches, you say you’re equal. If a man cried you’d humiliate him about it, why should your tears get people falling all over themselves to make you stop? Fair is fair.

Here was yet another woman striking me, assuming that she’d get away with it.

Some of the chains holding the beast, snapped.

“After all it’s only the two of us standing in my driveway… Who would know?”

Crazy is a threat to my peace and quiet, a disturbance to the neighborhood, an ever present worry. She’s defective. A waste of DNA. She at one time may have been simply mentally ill but over the 20 years she’s lived in this neighborhood she’s gotten much worse and may now be using drugs other than those prescribed.

I do my level best to ignore her and shut her out of my consciousness. Going so far as to close my house up and run the A/C with the windows and doors locked even on beautiful breezy spring and summer days while she screams horrific obscenities at the top of her lungs .

Questions I rarely consider are, “Why are her rights more important that all the rest of the people in this neighborhood? Why does she have the ability to imprison us in our homes with her insanity?”

More of the Beasts chains snapped.

“Her neck is thin as a chicken’s… Who would know?”

My narrowing vision was increasingly tinted red. The Beast was awake, the rage was growing uncontrollable. Blood pumping warm adrenaline felt like life and youth returning to my old bones. Life around me slowed, I could see the fly hoping for a meal suspended in front of her face. Dust motes froze mid air reflecting the sunlight.

More chains snapped.

“That fly looks hungry, why not feed it and 1000 generations of it’s line… Free me, let me serve you, some of those branches would make excellent clubs… Who would know?”

The rational part of me had been busy processing that I’d just been hit with no provocation came back. That part of me just couldn’t understand why she’d hit me at all, it made no sense and was therefore an unresolvable question. The answer that came back was, “this bitch is crazy,” then the rational part screamed in my head, “you don’t have to be crazy too!”

The Beast snapped its jaws at the rational part of my brain but began retreating to sulk in his dark dungeon.

Tenuous control of my anger and rage began to reassert itself. Rationality rebooted fully.

If I responded to her attack she’d win. I’d go to jail, and she’d smile. I’d lose my freedom and complicate my life in endless ways. I live in California. Women always win here, they’re always right, even when they’re not. Women who commit brutal murders get much lighter sentences than men, those who commit assault are lightly punished if at all.

The police would have no choice but to take me away. At the time, I thought California had some stupid law in place that said I, the victim, had to retreat and let the criminal take whatever they wanted.

My internal dialog said, “Choose a better option.” The part of me that is the Beast, accepted this proposition but added if she hits me again all bets are off.

I looked Crazy in the eyes and quietly said, “I don’t want to do this today.”

I knew the rage still burned in my eyes. The very few people who’ve seen my like that, described it as seeing Death looking at them, out of my eyes.

By some miracle, Crazy decided to leave. Her expression was one of confusion. She walked away without looking back, swearing and calling me names. Two that stick out were “misogynistic bastard” and “fucking fag”.

It cracks me up that when a woman is jonesing for a fight with a man, if he refuses to fight her, the woman always calls him a fag. Jesus! The deck is stacked against men!

Her one last parting shot was this, “You’ve always looked down on me since I moved here.”

As I stood there feeling the sun on my skin. I though, “Yep, you’re right about that because you’re trash, and always have been.”

The rational part of my mind acknowledged the defusing of the situation without additional violence as a win.

But the masculine, male, proud part of me, and the Beast were both wounded. By not responding as she so richly deserved, the bitch still caused me injury. She emasculated me. Not in front of the neighborhood but in front of the one person that I can’t ignore.

Myself.

It’s not about wounded pride, that heals.

This is about my fundamental right to defend myself. Am I now too old to fight? Am I weak and feeble? Am I not a man anymore? Have I caved into the bullshit and now too afraid of legal shit or consequences to even defend myself?

I was a proud apex predator, what am I now? Old? Used up? Useless? Should I just wander into the forest and die?

Will I forever hide behind the police and the law, will I forever be a victim?

The police were called. They dutifully took statements. They advised me that I could have her arrested for assault but that she’d be out in 8 hours or less. They suggested a better legal approach was to file a restraining order against her.

Either way, I know she’ll retaliate. She’s a vindictive bitch. I know of at least two other assaults she’s committed against neighbors which were unreported because the victims feared her retaliation.

I know that I must file a restraining order. Not just for me, but because it puts Crazy on the radar of the legal system. Long term, that benefits all the neighborhood. Unfortunately it also puts me on the same radar. Worse though, this feels like I’m hiding under my mother’s skirt.

The rational part of me is trying to convince the Beast that using the legal system against Crazy is satisfying because it’s using her own tools against her.

The Beast isn’t buying it. The legal system is long and drawn out and requires lots of energy to be expended. The Beast is about instant gratification and the almost erotic joy of vanquishing an enemy definitively in the moment.

The Beast is pissed off, that yet again a woman fucked him over with self inflicted wounds.

One good thing came out of my conversation with the police. They told me that I absolutely had the right to defend myself on my own property. They suggested that I get a security camera with recording ability so that in the future, once the restraining order is issued I’ll have a record of whatever transpires.

The Beast is happy about that. “If she comes at me again… Who cares who will know?”

Another bright spot is that the visitors cleaning up the neighbors house were video taping the exchange from his property.

That will make the legal process a bit easier. But it will still take time and effort and trips to the court house on my part. All of which costs me money while Crazy incurs no expense, no punishment, no inconvenience, basically… she gets to win again.

I was glad to see Halyna Hutchins family file their lawsuit against Alec Baldwin

I personally hope that a jury cleans his clock. The only reason he’s not sitting in a jail cell is because he’s famous.

If this were an average person, they’d be incarcerated.

Look at what was done to Kyle Rittenhouse. He was defending his life. His parents aren’t wealthy, and yet he was considered a flight risk. GoFundMe shut down donations to Rittenhouse in what can only be described as a blatant attempt to strangle his defense.

Baldwin on the other hand, has a ton of money and could leave the country at anytime to flee the justice he has coming to him.

If you ever needed an example of two tiered mob biased justice here’s a prime one. Baldwin is working on another movie for god’s sake. Hopefully this one doesn’t involve any firearms.

The saddest part is that Baldwin will not suffer any criminal consequences for his actions. He’ll get off, if he goes to trial. I’d bet that even if he is found guilty, he’ll get away with community service in the form of anti-gun rhetoric PSA commercials. Then he’ll complain that he had to do the PSA’s for free. I’m sure there will be whining for years about how difficult it was for him to sit in front of a camera to preach some anti-gun message.

Real punishment would be prison, and him being forced to attend mandatory NRA training classes. I might even add that he never be allowed to appear in any movie that had a gun in it.

Let’s see how good an actor he really is, when he has to actually act like the great actors of yesteryear. You know, those actors who told a story without foul language, special effects, and violence.

It’s not that I dislike Baldwin. It’s that I dislike a justice system that treats people unequally.

Alec Baldwin is today and always has been an arrogant self absorbed asshole. That much about his personality hasn’t changed.