I didn’t have a fully-automatic machine gun with me that day so I did the best I could with what I had at the time.
Running with the empty pump-action riot shotgun in my hands, I fumbled to load the weapon. Taking aim I fired and the target exploded. Charging for cover I ducked behind a wooden door and pulled the .357-caliber Magnum handgun from my hand-made holster crafted from elephant hide by Vietnamese Montagnards and given to me by a Green Beret combat veteran buddy.
I opened fire with the pistol.
Then we went to laugh and drink beer.
I was training with the Wilkes-Barre SWAT team that day, learning and bonding with police officers, most of whom I got along with at the time. One of those cops is now an ex-convict, after pleading guilty and getting locked up in the aftermath of the ongoing federal public corruption scandal. Another officer, a sniper, lost his job with a Luzerne County judge after the judge went to prison for his role in the continuing public corruption.
Times change.
So does our interpretation of the Constitution. A living, breathing document is what helps keep America strong. Living, breathing people help democracy as well. Without both, America the beautiful will cease to exist.
The U.S. Supreme Court justices have made it clear over many years that interpretation is everything in this land of the free. They add and subtract. They nurture and guide. They interpret law to fit the needs of themselves and others. Even the most conservative justices sometimes see the need to tweak the original principles that the Founding Fathers put forward when they produced and implemented the sacred document that shapes our lives.
Nothing is immune to change in America. Nothing in the Constitution cannot be interpreted and reinterpreted differently if need be. Nothing stands alone in this nation of law.
This means you, Second Amendment. This means you, gun owners. This means you, National Rifle Association despots.
The tyranny for which so many gun fanatics claim to prepare is already here – in the hands of NRA executives who profit handsomely from the death and bloodshed caused by the weapons of mass destruction they hawk and handle without care.
Unless such recklessness is controlled, and I absolutely do mean controlled, guns will continue to help slaughter more men, women and children in this, my land and your land, where justice is promised to all.
I’m talking gun control, of course. We can call it regulation if you like, but control is the point. Strong and disciplined community leaders must do everything in their power to control the shooting massacres that occur daily from sea to shining sea – even if we fail. To do otherwise is to endorse a society that runs amok and is out of control. To welcome anarchy sanctions the very tyranny that gun fanatics claim to abhor.
Hard-working, decent, law-abiding people – particularly gun owners - must publicly support efforts to take back our country from an army of out-of-control profiteers with their itchy fingers on the triggers of the gun lobby.
Too many innocent people have died in our insane embrace of so-called rights that are trivial in the big picture of democracy – that supposedly safe place where we are free to embrace life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
But the NRA brainwashers and their zombie cult members are dead set against progress. They want the pioneer days when frontier justice left bodies stacked outside the saloons and marked the American Way, a free-fire zone of national savagery.
Sane, disciplined thinkers must fight to put those terrible days behind us.
Indeed, we should ban semi-automatic assault rifles. We should take action against the under-the-radar insanity of fully-automatic machine guns as well.
My understanding is that even though possession of full-auto machine guns by civilians was banned in 1986, approximately 200,000 such killing machines are still legally owned by American citizens through the United States. These guns are taxed, approved and regulated by the federal government. But they’re still out there in the hands of people who have no real need to possess such armaments and cannot justify their possession.
Two local machine gun owners called the show yesterday. One man identified himself as a police officer. Both men said they passed detailed background checks in order to gain possession of their machine guns. Even though the guns were outlawed in 1986, the men agreed that those in existence at the time are still in circulation and can be sold to other people through licensed gun dealers. The machine guns are expensive, the men said, and are in great demand.
One machine gun owner said his gun can fire thirty high-velocity rounds in a second. The magazine holds 30 rounds, he said, and he can unload the whole package in a single second. Experts suggest learning to shoot a fully-automatic machine gun like his in two or three bursts, he said, because the gun has a tendency to rise when the shooter unleashes the barrage all at once.
Should a responsible citizen, even a cop, be allowed to own such a machine gun?
Not in a sane society. But we’re not sane. We’re America.
And that should mean something far better than the burning smell of machine gun grease and funeral flowers in the morning.
I'm pretty surprised to find the bulldog muscling it's way into the top 5 breeds of dogs, according to the American Kennel Club. When we got our bulldog, Prudence, back in the late 70's, I got a lot of flak from my friends. Prudie was a fully grown, sweet beauty when she arrived in our home. Of course we thought she was beautiful, but many people didn't. Sure, they're adorable as little pups, but the jutting jaw, bulging eyes and snoring wasn't attractive to all. The AKC now says the bulldog has moved to #5, displacing the Yorkie.
To be honest, I always felt bad for the bulldog. Our Prudence was in shape, but their barrel chests and small legs really take a toll on their bodies. It was quite an effort for her to hop up on the couch. Many a time I'd have to grab her from the butt and pull her up. Getting down could be as hard as getting up. She'd have an awful time breathing, and could be prone to hip problems. Then there is hygiene to contend with. Like Pavlov's bell, wherever I was in the house, if I heard her slurping at the water dish, I'd run to grab a towel to wipe her clean. If you didn't get there in time, there would be a trail of slobber.
Prudie was a great dog, but didn't live as long as we had hoped. A few years later we noticed a large lump on her shoulder. The vet confirmed our worst fear, it was cancer. We kept her as long as we could, for as long as she was comfortable. One morning I was home from school and the poor girl was not doing so well. I called my mom and we made the dreaded trip to end her pain. The average lifespan for a bulldog is about 6 1/2 years.
10 years ago the bulldog was around #20. Now they are? a rising breed. Because they don't require a lot of exercise, they are extremely popular with apartment dwellers, and are the most popular breed in the Big Apple.
Saw a picture of a hipster in a local weekend newspaper. Short hair, retro glasses, shirt buttoned up to the neck but manly stubble. I could smell the PBR.
I'm not so old that I don't recall what it was like to be 22.
I remember knowing I was indestructible.
And even being on the far-reaching, almost invisible fringes of cool at the time, still I knew I was light-years ahead of not only my parents but in fact everyone not within five years of my age at the moment.
And I never gave a thought to myself thirty years down the road.
So, with that said, here are some tips for a demographic highly unlikely to ever wander past this blog.
The measure of your 'cool' is, by it's nature, not something you can assess. Cool is only visible to others and to truly achieve it you have to be unaware that you have done so.
You're not indestructible. Youth may give you 'hearty' but without hard work, hearty doesn't last. And frankly you lose interest in the illusion.
And thirty years from now gets here. Make plans.
Speaking of thirty years from now, that's when you'll shake your head and hide the picture you took of yourself today.
In Scranton, the parking meter rate will soon go up to $1.50 per hour. Much of New York City has parking meter rates that are lower. Good luck with that revenue building, bring-the-folks-downtown plan.
In her post-concussion days it seems Hillary Clinton is sporting new eyeglasses and some medical experts say it's because she suffers lingering effects from her knock on the noggin. Evidently close-up pictures of Hillary reveal her glasses are outfitted with something called a 'Fresnel lens'. I know, I had to look it up too. It's pronounced 'freh-NEL' and it's something eye health professionals prescribe for patients who are suffering from double vision. Guess she took a pretty good shot when she fell. I'm sure that besides the double vision, there's nothing else we need to know.
Despite the dire Sunday night predictions, there was no snow or ice on the ground when most of the schools in northeast PA had called off by 5:30 this morning. Better safe than sorry? It's about the kids? I wish I believed it was about the kids but I believe it's more about superintendents worrying about how hot the phone lines to Metzger and Wickersham would get with the first school bus to do a 3mph slide into a stop sign at an intersection that got short-changed on road brine.
Lackwanna County commissioners Jim Wansacz and Corey O'Brien are throwing a cocktail party nexy month and you're invited! That is, you're invited if you have $500 per person to plunk down for your ticket. And the little boy said, 'Dad, what's the difference between Democrats and Republicans?' to which his dad replied, 'Son, the Republicans are for the rich people and the Democrats are for us.'
Bill Ecenbarger’s message stung more than the bone-chilling temperatures that his audience endured on the night of his remarks in Wilkes-Barre.
Ecenbarger, a former Philadelphia Inquirer reporter, certainly saw his share of cover ups, lies and bureaucratic incompetency while covering the Three Mile Island disaster in Harrisburg. His journalistic work on that scandal merited a Pulitzer Prize.
Now, this reporter, who watched the progression of thugs and gangsters in the streets of Philadelphia, was delivering the hard truth to the people who call this area their home. Our residents have lived through the hierarchy of the mining era, where few reaped the privilege and most bore the pain. When that industry ended in a watery calamity, the next logical way to maintain power over the people was to put them into the next industry: Government.
Ecenbarger, the interloper in our world, was called to Luzerne County four years ago to cover the Kids for Cash scandal as a happenstance. Some other reporter couldn’t make it, so Ecenbarger answered the bell. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
Viewing the world through someone else’s glasses can be very eye opening. Something can be blurry or maybe magnified, depending on the impediment. In Ecenbarger’s view, the people of Luzerne County can’t see straight. And, he’s right, of course.
His truth is probably too difficult for many people to bear. Exhibit A is former President Judge Mark Ciavarella, a player in a scheme federal authorities detailed in their filing of charges against him four years ago. Even as a jury decided his fate, Ciavarella, who had been reduced to sidekick to a Wilkes-Barre tow truck driver, courted reporters on the floor outside the courtroom, explaining his sick premise that “it wasn’t kids for cash.” Even after a jury rendered a guilty verdict on 12 of the 39 counts, Ciavarella and his attorney all but declared victory on the steps of the federal building in Lackawanna County. Their celebration was cut short by the angry tirade of a mother whose son eventually took his life, years after his initial introduction to the judicial stylings of Ciavarella.
Ecenbarger went straight for the part of the story that baffles those who live outside the county lines: The open secret that he claimed we knew all along. Ecenbarger recounted that the story of Ciavarella’s heavy hand in court was lauded by the locals, going as far as to remind the audience the former jurist was once named “Man of the Year” by an Irish society group and his deeds were extolled by our former congressman in the congressional record. His retelling of the patronage and “family tree” of those who ascended to power is enough to raise the color in your face, but, deep in your heart, you know it’s true. This job trading and back slapping is not tolerated in other areas of the country, Ecenbarger insisted.
Another panelist remarked about one of the pictures in Ciavarella’s office. It showed grime covered young breaker boys in Pittston, lorded over by a supervisor with a stick. One would have to wonder if Mark Ciavarella ever viewed that image and fancied himself as the man with the stick. He would probably insist it didn’t resemble him.
“The culture of silence” is a scar that runs through the valley as deep as a mine vein. As much as other speakers discussed the reformation of the courts to a reasonable level and a county code that calls for discipline in the event of wrong doing, there’s still a nagging feeling that runs through the cynics and seekers of justice that something is still quite wrong here. That feeling whistles through your ears even worse on a mid-winter January night when you hear a painful truth spoken by an outsider who calls it the way he sees it.
Bill Ecenbarger’s message stung more than the bone-chilling temperatures that his audience endured on the night of his remarks in Wilkes-Barre.
Ecenbarger, a former Philadelphia Inquirer reporter, certainly saw his share of cover ups, lies and bureaucratic incompetency while covering the Three Mile Island disaster in Harrisburg. His journalistic work on that scandal merited a Pulitzer Prize.
Now, this reporter, who watched the progression of thugs and gangsters in the streets of Philadelphia, was delivering the hard truth to the people who call this area their home. Our residents have lived through the hierarchy of the mining era, where few reaped the privilege and most bore the pain. When that industry ended in a watery calamity, the next logical way to maintain power over the people was to put them into the next industry: Government.
Ecenbarger, the interloper in our world, was called to Luzerne County four years ago to cover the Kids for Cash scandal as a happenstance. Some other reporter couldn’t make it, so Ecenbarger answered the bell. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
Viewing the world through someone else’s glasses can be very eye opening. Something can be blurry or maybe magnified, depending on the impediment. In Ecenbarger’s view, the people of Luzerne County can’t see straight. And, he’s right, of course.
His truth is probably too difficult for many people to bear. Exhibit A is former President Judge Mark Ciavarella, a player in a scheme federal authorities detailed in their filing of charges against him four years ago. Even as a jury decided his fate, Ciavarella, who had been reduced to sidekick to a Wilkes-Barre tow truck driver, courted reporters on the floor outside the courtroom, explaining his sick premise that “it wasn’t kids for cash.” Even after a jury rendered a guilty verdict on 12 of the 39 counts, Ciavarella and his attorney all but declared victory on the steps of the federal building in Lackawanna County. Their celebration was cut short by the angry tirade of a mother whose son eventually took his life, years after his initial introduction to the judicial stylings of Ciavarella.
Ecenbarger went straight for the part of the story that baffles those who live outside the county lines: The open secret that he claimed we knew all along. Ecenbarger recounted that the story of Ciavarella’s heavy hand in court was lauded by the locals, going as far as to remind the audience the former jurist was once named “Man of the Year” by an Irish society group and his deeds were extolled by our former congressman in the congressional record. His retelling of the patronage and “family tree” of those who ascended to power is enough to raise the color in your face, but, deep in your heart, you know it’s true. This job trading and back slapping is not tolerated in other areas of the country, Ecenbarger insisted.
Another panelist remarked about one of the pictures in Ciavarella’s office. It showed grime covered young breaker boys in Pittston, lorded over by a supervisor with a stick. One would have to wonder if Mark Ciavarella ever viewed that image and fancied himself as the man with the stick. He would probably insist it didn’t resemble him.
“The culture of silence” is a scar that runs through the valley as deep as a mine vein. As much as other speakers discussed the reformation of the courts to a reasonable level and a county code that calls for discipline in the event of wrong doing, there’s still a nagging feeling that runs through the cynics and seekers of justice that something is still quite wrong here. That feeling whistles through your ears even worse on a mid-winter January night when you hear a painful truth spoken by an outsider who calls it the way he sees it.
My mom just got out of the hospital after having her knee replaced. I took her there last week to have the procedure done. She says I am "her person". "Your person" is the person in your life who you can call on to do the tough stuff. Someone you trust to know what to remind the doctors or nurses before treatment, to speak for you when you're under anaesthesia, to know who to call if something goes wrong, what to do, how to deal with an emergency.
You may have a few people who fit that criteria- call it 'your people'. When you're in a hospital, you definitely need them. Being there recently, reminded me of the myriad of issuesI dealt with in my multiple surgeries and treatments. The worst issue was the medications. I feel like a druggie when I would go through the pre-op discussions telling them exactly what I needed. Zofran is a must for surgery. Morphine or Vicodin are my top pain meds, forget the Percocet or Demerol. Give me Xanax in the evening for sleep. Of course, after I was in my room, I would have to have that discussion over and over again. It was maddening how often the lines of communication got criss-crossed.
The biggest lesson I learned about surgery was staying ahead of the pain. It seems as though they don't want to give you pain meds anymore on a schedule. They wait until you ask for it. When you're recuperating it's tough to keep track of the meds, but you have to. I would write down when I took a pill and then ask for it when I could safely take it again. I learned that after a few experiences where I nodded off, only to awake to terrible pain and begging for relief.
Thank God for the great nurses who make you feel better during a bad situation. I had one real funny lady answer my call in the middle of the night at Geisinger in Danville back in 2007. I was miserable and in pain after my mastectomy, and having a hard time sleeping. She brought me an Ambien and a Xanax and told me to choose one of them. I picked the Xanax. After I took it, she smiled and said "If that doesn't work, I'll have to bring out the rubber mallot." I remember laughing out loud and soon fell asleep with a smile on my face.
Despite both claiming responsibility AND blaming someone else for the four Americans killed in Benghazi in the consulate attack back on September 11th of last year, Hillary Clinton remains the darling of the left and is widely seen as a contender for President in 2016.
Who knows why? Anyone? Bueller?
I think a big part of the reason is that she's one of the members of a pool of contenders whose main criteria is 'not an old white guy.
Not being an old white guy after all (plus the irrational hatred many on the left still bear for George Bush) is largely how Barack Obama was swept into office, no? Barack Obama, the man whose future vice-President once said about him "...the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean...". The man who former President Bill Clinton allegedly remarked, "A few years ago this guy would have been getting us coffee."
So the mantra seems to be 'Anybody but an old white guy' and often times that comes from the left's old or soon-to-be-considered-old white guys. How does that work? Is their guilt over their whiteness that deep?
Is Hillary going to end up the Democratic nominee for 2016?
Forget Joe Biden. Oh sure we get a big kick out of him as VP but A) he's kinda goofy and B) he's an old white guy.
So, Hillary?
Lots of calendar between now and 2016. Any other 'non-old white guy' could emerge depending on circumstances, the economy, and backroom machinations that might give her a run for her money.
And with the shake-my-head direction our culture seems to be headed I don't think it's even safe to elminate from contention inanimate objects.
The inauguration of the President happened this week. Here's what I took away from it:
1) The President of the United States doesn't realize (or care) how impolite and ill-mannered it looks for a President of the United States to chew gum on television.
2) George Stephanopolous' inauguration coverage included these words: "And there's Morgan Freeman!" It was Bill Russell.
3) Beyonce lip-synced the National Anthem.
4) Michelle Obama, in that now-viral eye-roll video with John Boehner that occurred following the public inauguration ceremony looked like she was really enjoying lunch.
5) And I got the feeling from the President's inaugural address that he is one step closer to just doing his Obama imitation when he delivers speeches. Just not feeling it. Seems put out to have to put on the show for us.
If you're an Obama supporter I'm sure you won't be crazy about those observations. Nothing personal.
In other news, our daily TV shot on FOX 56 is over. It was fun in a kind of 'if we have to' way.
As far as I know the parting was on good terms. That said, I'm glad we don't have to pay attention to cameras any longer. The TV thing was a distraction to the radio show and frankly, it looked like a closed circuit broadcast from the '80's, didn't it? I occasionally wondered what someone passing through 'nort deest Pee Yay' and spending a night in a hotel thought about what they were looking at when they turned on the TV in the morning and saw that local television offering.
Anyway, if you watched, thanks. You can still listen!
The President has been sworn in for his second term. His acceptance speech was positive, and you know it was effective when the most the Republicans can say is that it sounded like a campaign speech. When the biggest complaints are that the President chewed gum, Beyonce lip-synced, and the First Lady rolled her eyes during lunch, it must have been a good day.
We had some pretty nasty texts the morning after from Obama's detractors- when we talked about Alicia Keyes singing "Obama's on fire", one listener said they wished he were. Another added "it would have been a great speech if Mitt Romney had given it". We had a caller who offered light at the end of the tunnel for the detractors. Mike said he was reminded that we are now "more than half-way through Obama's Presidency". If it's any consolation, I know how you feel, having suffered through George W's two terms. It'll be interesting to see which Republican will rise in the next few years, and if Hillary Clinton will do what I fully expect; run for President of the United States. An unsettling thought, I bet, for Republicans looking for some good news.
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