Book Club Baton Rouge

Dorothy Cutrer (Nov. 26,1936 - Sept. 30, 2020)

2020.11.05 21:01 portlane Dorothy Cutrer (Nov. 26,1936 - Sept. 30, 2020)

Dorothy Lott Cutrer
Nov. 26,1936 - Sept. 30, 2020
Dorothy was born to Clara McCrory and Albert John Lott in Ponchatoula, La. She was the oldest of four daughters.
She earned her Bachelor's degree in teaching at Southeastern University in Hammond, La. While teaching she completed her Master's degree at LSU in Baton Rouge, La.
After finishing her B.S. degree Dorothy and Stanley were married Aug. 8, 1958. They enjoyed 62 years together.
Dorothy retired from teaching 20 years in Louisiana in 1978 and the family moved to Portland Jan. 1, 1979 after her husband was transferred.
Dorothy began a new teaching career with the Beaverton School District that lasted another 20 years. While she loved teaching, she devoted a great deal of time to an after school drama club.
Dorothy was preceded in death by her mother; father; and two sisters, Betty Schilling and Helen Latino. She is survived by her husband, Stan; son, Mark Cutrer; daughter, Marla Davies; sister, Evelyn Sanders; her four grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren.
Due to the pandemic a private gathering was held at Valley Memorial Cemetery.
Please sign the online guest book at www.oregonlive.com/obits
source: http://obits.oregonlive.com/obituaries/oregon/obituary.aspx?n=dorothy-lott-cutrer&pid=197049313
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2019.09.10 11:55 Samson1911 Worst acts of mass murder in the United States (since 1945)

Top 40 worst losses of American life from a deliberate act (since 1945):

September 11 attacks
2,977 dead, 33,000+ wounded
Date: September 11, 2001
Target(s): World Trade Center (North and South Towers), The Pentagon, a field in rural Pennsylvania, and public transportation (planes)
Location(s): Manhattan, New York; Stonycreek Township, Pennsylvania; The Pentagon in Arlington County, Virginia
Weapon(s): Knives, Planes
Perpetrator(s): Waleed M. Al-Shehri, Wail M. Al-Shehri, Mohamed Atta, Abdulaziz Al-Omari, Satam M. A. Al-Suqami, Marwan Al-Shehhi, Fayez Rashid Ahmed Hassan Al-Qadi Banihammad, Mohand Al-Shehri, Hamza Al-Ghamdi, Ahmed Al-Ghamdi, Khalid Al-Mihdhar, Majed Moqed, Nawaf Al-Hazmi, Salem Al-Hazmi, Hani Hanjour, Ahmad Ibrahim A. Al-Haznawi, Ahmed Al-Nami, Ziad Samir Jarrah, and Saeed Al-Ghamdi

Jonestown massacre
918 dead, 35 wounded
Date: November 18, 1978
Target(s): an air strip, The Peoples Temple Agricultural Project, The Peoples Temple of the Disciples of Christ’s headquarters building in Georgetown
Location(s): Port Kaituma, Georgetown and Jonestown, Guyana
Weapon(s): Cyanide (907 dead), Guns (7 dead), Knives (4 dead)
Perpetrator(s): Jim Jones, Annie Moore, Sharon Amos, among other cult members

1983 Beirut barracks bombings
307 dead (including 241 US military personnel), 150+ wounded (including 115 Americans)
Date: October 23, 1983
Target(s): United States Marine Corps barracks at the Beirut Airport and the Drakkar barracks of the French 1st Parachute Chasseur Regiment and 9th Chasseur Regiment
Location(s): Beirut and Ramlet al Baida, Lebanon
Weapon(s): two truck bombs
Perpetrator(s): Ismalal/Ismail Ascari and another unidentified bomber.

Pan Am Flight 103
270 dead (259 died in the plane, 11 died on the ground)
Date: December 21, 1988
Target(s): commercial aircraft
Location: Lockerbie, Scotland (landed)
Weapon: Bomb, Plane
Perpetrator: Abdelbaset Al-Meghrani

1998 United States embassy bombings
224 dead (12 Americans killed), 4,000+ wounded
Date: August 7, 1998
Target(s): United States Embassy in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania and the United States Embassy in Nairobi, Kenya
Location(s): Nairobi, Kenya and Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
Weapon(s): two truck bombs
Perpetrator(s): Mohamed Rashed Daoud Al-Owhali and Hamden Khalif Allah Awad

EgyptAir Flight 990
217 dead
Date: October 31, 1999
Target: commercial airliner
Location: Atlantic Ocean, about 60 miles south of Nantucket Island, Massachusetts (landed)
Weapon: Plane, WateDrowning (Ocean)
Perpetrator: Gameel Al-Batouti

Oklahoma City bombing
168 dead, 680+ wounded
Date: April 19, 1995
Target: Alfred P. Murrah federal building
Location: Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
Weapon: truck bomb
Perpetrator: Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols

Our Lady of the Angels School fire
95 dead
Date: December 1, 1958
Target: Our Lady of the Angels School
Location: Chicago, Illinois
Weapon: Matches/Fire
Perpetrator: A 10-year-old boy (Philip A. Decker)

Waco siege
88 dead (including 2 unborn and 4 ATF), 14 - 28 ATF agents wounded (sources vary), only about 50 Branch Davidians survived the siege and fire (with only 9 surviving the fire)
Date(s): February 28 - April 19, 1993
Target: Mount Carmel Center
Location: Waco, Texas
Weapon(s): Fire (33 dead), Guns (32 dead), Undetermined (18 dead), Blunt Force (4 dead), Stabbing (1 dead)
Perpetrator(s): David Koresh and his followers / ATF

Sources:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waco_siege

http://www.apologeticsindex.org/pdf/Graham.pdf

https://books.google.com/books?id=WU42AAAAQBAJ&pg=PA78&lpg=PA78&dq=%22branch+davidians+survived”&source=bl&ots=kQpQ1P56Ds&sig=ACfU3U0anBGjClhrsZEWJBUnLPt3XEE8hg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiiiK-Zoe7iAhVFmeAKHWjJBH0Q6AEwBHoECAoQAQ#v=onepage&q=%22branch%20davidians%20survived”&f=false

http://www.policefoundation.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/DOT-Report-ATF-Investigation-of-David-Koresh_Sept-1993.pdf

Happy Land fire
87 dead, 6 wounded
Date: March 25, 1990
Target: Happy Land social club
Location: Bronx, New York
Weapon: Fire (Gasoline)
Perpetrator: Julio Gonzalez

1983 United States embassy bombing in Beirut
64 dead, 120 wounded
Date: April 18, 1983
Target: United States Embassy in Beirut, Lebanon
Location: Beirut, Lebanon
Weapon: car bomb
Perpetrator(s): Unknown. Imad Mughniyah was alleged to have responsibility for this particular bombing, however this has been disputed. According to his Wikipedia article:

“U.S. and Israeli officials have implicated Mughniyeh of many terrorist attacks, primarily against American and Israeli targets. These include 18 April 1983 bombing of the United States embassy in Beirut, Lebanon, which killed 63 people including 17 Americans whom among them were 7 CIA officers which included Robert Ames the head of Near East Division. Agreement is not entirely universal on Mughniyeh’s involvement, and Caspar Weinberger, the Secretary of Defense at the time of the attack, told PBS in 2001, “We still do not have the actual knowledge of who was directly behind and responsible for the bombing of the American Embassy in Beirut, Lebanon and we certainly didn’t then."”

1992 Los Angeles riots
63 dead, 2,383 wounded
Date(s): April 29 - May 4, 1992
Target(s): Supermarkets and other business stores (including video stores, shoe stores, auto part stores, check cashing stores, five and dime stores, etc.), city streets and intersections, residential neighborhoods, parking lots, gas stations and liquor stores, apartment complexes, etc.
Location(s): Los Angeles County, California (mostly); 3 died in San Diego (South Park); 1 in Fresno (Del Rey)
Weapon(s): 40 by gunfire (including 5 who were shot by police), 23 by other causes; including 1 by strangulation, 2 stabbed, 8 vehicle-related, 2 from blunt force-related injuries, 2 were beaten to death, 3 from fire, 3 unknown, 1 from a fall and 1 from a heart attack
Perpetrator(s): Odell Whitley Jr., Leonard Hampton and another unnamed teen(?) (Lucie Maronian; stabbed), Aniceto Barajas (Jose L. Garcia; shot), Mario E. Olivera (George Alvarez; beaten), Three suspects, including a 17-year-old (Paul Horace; shot), Akim Dashawn Gilmore (Alfred V. Miller; shot), Traville J. Craig (Elias G. Rivera; blunt force), Fidel Ortiz and Leonard Sosa (Wallace Tope; beaten), three men, two of whom were teenagers (Matthew D. Haines; shot), 15-year-old boy (Juana Espinosa; shot), Samiee Farzan (Imad Sharaf; fire), Andre Webb and Lavelle "Frog” Williams (Charles Orebo; shot), most others no charges were ever brought against, because they were either unrelated to the riot (one person died with a cigarette in his mouth while he slept that burned the house down) or no arrests were made because, as according to the Chief Spokesman Bob Dambacher, “Would this person have died at that particular time and that particular place if riots had not occurred?” Was the criteria for his office. Also because some of them were by police/self-defense, were accidents or because the crimes were unsolved (22 - 23+ cases still remain unsolved to this day). Or at least I couldn’t find any articles naming the suspects for many of them.

Sources:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/1992_Los_Angeles_riots

https://spreadsheets.latimes.com/la-riots-deaths/?

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4467960/amp/25-years-Rodney-King-riots-deaths-unsolved.html

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1992-06-02-mn-452-story,amp.html

https://www.newspapers.com/image/?clipping_id=10535592&fcfToken=eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJmcmVlLXZpZXctaWQiOjE3NzMwNDkxMSwiaWF0IjoxNTYwNjUxMDc3LCJleHAiOjE1NjA3Mzc0Nzd9.v_ihgb5EJErbv_zhntFDlBoLNScn2i9cPCV2IVmR_DA

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1993-04-24-me-26740-story,amp.html

https://www.google.com/amp/s/patch.com/california/venice/amp/4135193/22-riot-related-homicides-unsolved-including-venice-killing

https://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/thread851974/pg2

https://www.sfweekly.com/news/dead-heat/amp/

2017 Las Vegas shooting
58 dead, 851 wounded (422 by gunfire)
Date: October 1, 2017
Target: Route 91 Harvest music festival
Location: Paradise, Nevada
Weapon(s): 24 firearms
Perpetrator: Stephen Paddock

Orlando nightclub shooting
49 dead, 53 wounded
Date: June 12, 2016
Target: Pulse nightclub
Location: Orlando, Florida
Weapon(s): Sig Sauer MCX semi-automatic rifle and a Glock 17 semi-automatic pistol
Perpetrator: Omar Mateen

USS Iowa turret explosion
47 dead
Date: April 19, 1989
Target: a United States Navy battleship
Location: Caribbean Sea, off the coast of Puerto Rico
Weapon: powder bags packed inside a gun turret detonated by either an electronic or chemical detonator
Perpetrator: Clayton Hartwig

Continental Airlines Flight 11
45 dead
Date: May 22, 1962
Target: public transportation (planes)
Location: a clover field in Union Township, Putnam County, Missouri near Unionville, Missouri (landed)
Weapon: bomb (dynamite)
Perpetrator: Thomas G. Doty

United Airlines Flight 629
44 dead
Date: November 1, 1955
Target: public transportation (plane)
Location: Longmont, Colorado (landed)
Weapon: bomb (dynamite)
Perpetrator: Jack Gilbert Graham

Attica prison riot
43 dead, 91 wounded
Date: September 9 - 13, 1971
Target: Attica Correctional Facility
Location: Attica, New York
Weapon(s): beating with what was described as “wooden objects” (1 dead), shanks (3 dead) and firearms (39 dead)
Perpetrator(s): Charles J. Pernasilice and John Hill (Officer Quinn), Mariano Gonzalez (inmate Michael Privitiera), Bernard Stroble, Eric Thompson, Herbert X. Blyden, Roger Champen and Frank Smith (inmates Kenneth Hess and Barry Schwartz) / NYPD

Sources:

https://www.nytimes.com/1972/12/19/archives/new-jersey-pages-12-inmates-named-in-attica-charges-they-are-led-in.html

https://www.nytimes.com/1975/06/10/archives/attica-witness-tells-of-slaying-former-inmate-says-he-saw-prisoners.html

Pacific Southwest Airlines Flight 1771
43 dead (5 by gunfire, the rest died from the crash, including the gunman)
Date: December 7, 1987
Target: public transportation (plane)
Location: San Luis Obispo County near Cayucos, California (landed)
Weapon(s): Smith and Wesson Model 29 .44 Magnum revolver, Plane
Perpetrator: David Augustus Burke

Maury County jail fire
42 dead, 30+ wounded
Date: June 26, 1977
Target: Maury County jail
Location: Columbia, Tennessee
Weapon: Fire
Perpetrator: Andy Zimmer

Sources:

https://www.nytimes.com/1977/06/27/archives/tennessee-jail-fire-kills-42-including-lockedup-prisoners-keys-are.html

https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.tennessean.com/amp/731145002

St. Elizabeth’s hospital fire
41 dead, 24 wounded
Date: January 7, 1950
Target: St. Elizabeth’s wing of the Mercy hospital
Location: Davenport, Iowa
Weapon: Fire
Perpetrator: Elnora Epperly

Sources:

https://www.fireengineering.com/articles/print/volume-103/issue-2/features/second-major-hospital-fire-takes-forty-one-lives.html#gref

https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1082432219778408448.html

Heaven’s Gate (religious group)
39 dead
Date: March 22 - 26, 1997
Target: “The Monastery” mansion home
Location: Rancho Santa Fe, California
Weapon(s): all died by mixing Phenobarbital with apple sauce or pudding and washing it down with vodka and securing plastic bags around their heads, including Applewhite, the cult leader
Perpetrator: Marshall Applewhite

USS Liberty incident
34 dead, 171 wounded
Date: June 8, 1967
Target: a United States naval ship
Location: Mediterranean Sea near the Sinai Peninsula
Weapon(s): torpedoes and fighter jet missiles
Perpetrator: Israeli Air Force

Virginia Tech shooting
32 dead, 23 wounded (17 by gunfire)
Date: April 16, 2007
Target: Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University
Location: Blacksburg, Virginia
Weapon(s): Glock 19 pistol and a Walther P22 pistol
Perpetrator: Seung-Hui Cho

UpStairs Lounge arson attack
32 dead, 15 wounded
Date: June 24, 1973
Target: UpStairs Lounge
Location: New Orleans, Louisiana
Weapon: Fire (lighter fluid + matches)
Perpetrator: Rodger Nunez

Sandy Hook school shooting
27 dead, 2 wounded
Date: December 14, 2012
Target: Sandy Hook Elementary School
Location: Newtown, Connecticut
Weapon(s): Bushmaster XM15-E2S rifle and a Glock 20SF handgun
Perpetrator: Adam Lanza

Sutherland Springs church shooting
26 dead (including an unborn child), 20 wounded
Date: November 5, 2017
Target: First Baptist Church
Location: Sutherland Springs, Texas
Weapon: Ruger AR-556 semi-automatic rifle
Perpetrator: Devin Patrick Kelley

Dorothy Mae Apartments fire
25 dead, 31 wounded
Date: September 4, 1982
Target: Dorothy Mae Apartments
Location: Los Angeles, California
Weapon: Fire (gasoline + matches)
Perpetrator: Humberto Diaz de la Torre

Sources:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_rampage_killers_(other_incidents)

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/88263455/dorothy_mae_apartment_fire_victims

https://www.lafire.com/famous_fires/1982-0904_DorothyMaeFire/090482_DorothyMae.htm

Luby’s shooting
23 dead, 27 wounded (19 by gunfire)
Date: October 16, 1991
Target: Luby’s cafeteria
Location: Killeen, Texas
Weapon(s): Glock 17 and a Ruger P89
Perpetrator: George Hennard

2019 El Paso shooting
22 dead, 24 wounded
Date: August 3, 2019
Target: Walmart
Location: El Paso, Texas
Weapon: WASR-10
Perpetrator: Patrick Crusius

San Ysidro McDonald’s massacre
21 dead, 19 wounded
Date: July 18, 1984
Target: McDonald’s restaurant
Location: San Ysidro, California
Weapon(s): Browning HP (9mm), Uzi Carbine (9mm), Winchester 1200 pump-action shotgun (12 gauge)
Perpetrator: James Huberty

USS Cole bombing
17 dead, 39 wounded
Date: October 12, 2000
Target: a United States Navy guided missile destroyer
Location: Aden, Yemen
Weapon: a small fiberglass boat carrying 400 - 700 pounds of C4 explosives molded into a shaped charge against the hull of the boat
Perpetrator(s): two suicide bombers (Ibrahim al-Thawr and Abdullah al-Misawa)

University of Texas tower shooting
17 dead (including an unborn child and Gunby, who died in 2001), 31 wounded
Date: August 1, 1966
Target(s): University of Texas at Austin, Residence
Location: Austin, Texas
Weapon(s): 7 guns and a Machete (2 dead, including one who was both shot and stabbed)
Perpetrator: Charles Whitman

Stoneman Douglas High School shooting
17 dead, 17 wounded
Date: February 14, 2018
Target: Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School
Location: Parkland, Florida
Weapon: Smith & Wesson M&P15 Sport II
Perpetrator: Nikolas Cruz

D.C. sniper attacks
17 dead, 10 wounded
Date(s): February 16 - October 24, 2002
Target(s): Residences, Golf Courses, Stores (including Package Stores, Liquor Stores, Craft Stores, Auto Dealerships, Gas Stations, Shopping Malls, etc.) and Bus Stops
Location(s): Tacoma, Washington (1 dead); Tucson, Arizona (1 dead); Clinton, Maryland (1 dead); Atlanta, Georgia (1 dead); Montgomery, Alabama (1 dead); Baton Rouge, Louisiana (1 dead); Montgomery County, Maryland (5 dead); Prince William County, Virginia (1 dead); Spotsylvania County, Virginia (1 dead); Fairfax County, Virginia (1 dead); Aspen Hill, Maryland (1 dead)
Weapon(s): Bushmaster XM-15 rifle, .223 Remington/5.56x45mm NATO Carbine Rifle
Perpetrator(s): John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo

The Dover massacre
16 dead, 4 wounded
Date(s): December 22 - 28, 1987
Target(s): Residence, Law Office, Oil Company
Location(s): Dover and Russellville, Arkansas
Weapon(s): Firearms (8 dead), Strangulation/Drowning in a Rain Barrel (8 dead)
Perpetrator: Ronald Gene Simmons, Sr.

West Fertilizer Company explosion
15 dead, 160 - 200 wounded
Date: April 17, 2013
Target: West Fertilizer Company storage and distribution facility
Location: West, Texas
Weapon: Arson fire inside an ammonium nitrate storage facility
Perpetrator(s?): Unknown

2015 San Bernardino attack
14 dead, 24 wounded
Date: December 2, 2015
Target: Inland Regional Center
Location: San Bernardino, California
Weapon(s): 4 guns
Perpetrator(s): Syed Rizwan Farook and Tashfeen Malik

Edmond post office shooting
14 dead, 6 wounded
Date: August 20, 1986
Target: Postal Office
Location: Edmond, Oklahoma
Weapon(s): two M1911 (.45 ACP) semi-automatic pistols and a Ruger (.22 caliber) semi-automatic pistol
Perpetrator: Patrick Sherrill

Columbine High School massacre
13 dead, 24 wounded (21 by gunfire)
Date: April 20, 1999
Target: Columbine High School
Location: Littleton, Colorado
Weapon(s): Intratec AB-10, Hi-Point 995 Carbine, Savage 67H pump-action shotgun, Stevens 311D double-barreled sawed-off shotgun
Perpetrator(s): Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold
submitted by Samson1911 to masskillers [link] [comments]


2019.08.30 22:49 Dalai_Java Learning a language (German)

I am attempting to learn German through self directed study. Duolingo, some podcasts, and a book or two. I was wondering if there are any language clubs in the Baton Rouge area that might be a good resource for conversational German?
Danke
submitted by Dalai_Java to batonrouge [link] [comments]


2019.07.11 17:54 tmothy07 "Cradle of Coaches": A look into the past of Miami (OH) coaches

Hey everyone!
Miami, the “Cradle of Coaches”, was requested in the comments section of a previous write-up, so here you are! Welcome to a write-up about the Miami University Redhawks coaches. As always, I attempt to maintain a neutral tone, and keeping with the original theme the write-up will focus on how the coach left the school and what they did afterward (with me filling in some interesting facts about things they did while at the school from time to time). I hope you enjoy.
Previous coaching history posts I’ve made:
Ohio State
Michigan
Florida
Penn State
Iowa
Name Tenure Record at Miami(OH) How he left
Chuck Martin 2014 - Present 21-39-0 N/A
Mike Bath 2013 0-7-0 Left to become the running backs and full backs coach at the University of Wyoming after finishing out the 2013 season as an interim head coach. He stayed at Wyoming until 2018. In 2019 he took the job of running backs coach at Western Michigan University where he still coaches today.
Don Treadwell 2011 - 2013 8-21-0 Fired midway through the 2013 season for losing the first five games of the season. In 2014, he took the Kent State University running backs coach job, and then was elevated to offensive coordinator and quarterbacks coach in 2015. He left the Flashes in 2018 to become the defensive backs and special teams coach at Michigan State University where he still coaches today.
Lance Guidry 2010 1–0-0 Left after coaching the GoDaddy.com Bowl as an interim head coach to be the defensive coordinator at Western Kentucky University . He again became an interim head coach when Willy Taggart left prior to WKU’s bowl game. After the game, he took the job of assistant head coach and defensive coordinator at McNeese State University . He was elevated to head coach there in 2016, and stayed there until 2018 when his contract was not renewed. Guidry then took the defensive coordinator job at Southeastern Louisiana University where he still coaches today.
Mike Haywood 2009 - 2010 10-15-0 Left to take the University of Pittsburgh head coaching job, however, after only 16 days he was fired for being arrested on felony domestic violence charges. The charges were dismissed the following year after he completed pre-trial diversion requirements. He reemerged in coaching at the end of 2015 when he was hired as the head coach at Texas Southern University . He resigned that position in 2018. He is currently 55, and it is unknown whether he plans to coach again. At Miami, Haywood led the team to a Mid-American Conference title, securing himself the conference coach of the year award.
Shane Montgomery 2005 - 2008 17-31-0 Resigned as head coach 2008. He went on to be an assistant and positions coach in various capacities. In 2009 he was the offensive coordinator and tight ends coach at the University of Akron . From 2010 to 2017 he was the offensive coordinator and quarterbacks coach at Youngstown State University . In 2018, he was again the OC and QB coach, this time at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte . In 2019, he was hired at James Madison University as the OC and QB coach where he still coaches today.
Terry Hoeppner 1999 - 2004 48-25-0 Was hired as the head coach at Indiana University . He started strong in his first season, but lost the last six games ending with a record of (4-7-0). After the season, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor that was operated on that December. He coached the 2006 season and planned to continue coaching, but after more health concerns announced that he would need to sit out the 2007 season. Three months after the March announcement, Terry died of brain cancer at the age of 59. While at Miami, Hoeppner led the team to a (13-1-0) season that saw Ben Roethlisberger shine, winning the Mid-American Conference and GMAC Bowl , and earning a #10 ranking in the process.
Randy Walker 1990 - 1998 58-36-5 Was hired as the head coach at Northwestern University for the 1999 season. He won a share of the Big Ten Conference championship in his second season, also winning the conference’s coach of the year award. Additionally, he took the Wildcats to three different bowl games, but unfortunately did not win. In the summer of 2006, after battling a heart infection in 2004, Randy died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 52.
Tim Rose 1983 - 1989 31-44-3 Fired after the 1989 season (2-8-1). His next position in coaching was the defensive coordinator job at Memphis State University in 1992 where he coached until 1994 when he was fired. He then took the defensive coordinator job at the University of Cincinnati for the 1995 season, but was fired after the season. He then took the same position at the University of Minnesota , where the same thing happened, coaching a single season in 1996. He then spent two years at Boston College as a DC, three seasons at East Carolina University as a DC, a season at Eastern Michigan University as a DC, and a season at Louisiana Tech University as a DC. He found some more stability at the University of Toledo as a DC, staying there from 2005 to 2008 before landing at Ashland University in 2009 as a DC where he still coaches today. At Miami, Rose won a Mid-American Conference and took the team to a California Bowl in a season that saw them defeat #8 ranked LSU in Baton Rouge during the regular season.
Tom Reed 1978 - 1982 34-19-2 Accepted the position of head coach at North Carolina State University . He only served there until 1985, never compiling a winning season. He then took a job as an assistant at the University of Michigan in 1987 where he stayed until retiring from coaching in 1991. You may recognize one of Reed’s former assistants at Miami: Jim Tressel (1979-1980).
Dick Crum 1974 - 1977 34–10-1 Accepted the position of head football coach at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill . Under his leadership, the Tarheels won the Atlantic Coast Conference championship in 1980 (which happens to be the most recent conference football title for the school), as well as a Bluebonnet Bowl victory over Texas . Crum was fired after the 1987 season that saw his team slip to (5-6-0). He was succeeded by Mack Brown. In 1988, he took control of Kent State University’s football team, but only lasted until 1990 before retiring from coaching. Dick is still alive and is 85 years old. His time at Miami was extremely successful save for one year that accounted for all but two of his losses. He led Miami to three Mid-American Conference titles (going undefeated in-conference all three times), two Tangerine Bowl victories, as well as a #10 and a #12 finish.
Bill Mallory 1969 - 1973 39-12-0 Left to coach at the University of Colorado where he coached until 1978 following a (6-5-0) and a 7th place Big 8 Conference finish. During his time at Colorado , the Buffalos claimed a Big 8 Conference , a #16 ranking, and a trip to the Orange Bowl . In 1980, he returned to the Mid-American Conference at Northern Illinois University where he coached until 1983. His Huskies captured one conference title, and a California Bowl win. He was hired in 1984 to coach the Indiana University football team. His first season with the Hoosiers was his worst, going (0-11-0) overall and coming 10th in the Big Ten . His Hoosiers saw more success going forward, however, as they finished 2nd in the conference in 1987 and received a Peach Bowl bid. In 1988, Indiana finished with an (8-3-1) record, a #19 ranking, and a Liberty Bowl victory. The Hoosiers would go to and win in the postseason following the 1991 season with a Copper Bowl victory over Baylor . Mallory coached the Hoosiers to 6 bowls and earned the Big Ten coach of the year award twice. He is the winningest coach at Indiana with a record of (69-77-3). He retired following his firing at the end of the 1996 season. Bill died in 2018 at the age of 82 of complications following brain surgery. At Miami, he led the team to an undefeated season, a #15 ranking, a Mid-American Conference championship, and a Tangerine Bowl victory.
Bo SchembechlerHOF 1963 - 1968 40-17-3 Left to accept the position of head coach at the University of Michigan after the 1968 season where he remained as head coach until 1989. Schembechler amassed a (194-48-5) record at Michigan including 13 Big Ten Conference championships, and 2 Rose Bowl Game victories. Over the course of his career he earned 12 different coach of the year awards. Schembechler was an immediate hit in Ann Arbor, as his Wolverines avenged the humiliating 1968 loss to Ohio State by beating what many considered one of the greatest teams to ever take the field together in 1969 by a score of 24-12. This game kicked off a period of the rivalry called the “Ten Year War” where fellow former Miami coach Woody Hayes and Schembechler dominated the Big Ten and raised the intensity of the rivalry to sky-scraping levels. Schembechler’s friendship with another former Miami coach, Ara Parseghian, saw the renewal of the Wolverines rivalry with Notre Dame . In 1982, he received an offer from Texas A&M University to become their head football coach and athletic director for the sum of $3 million dollars for 10 years. At the time, this was the largest contract in the history of collegiate athletics. Schembechler turned down the offer, stating that “there are things more important in this world than money”. Schembechler retired from coaching after the 1990 Rose Bowl Game citing his history of heart problems (including a heart attack at the 1970 Rose Bowl ). The slogan and mantra he employed at Michigan , “Those who stay will be champions!” is still in use there today. Following his retirement from coaching, he became the president of Major League Baseball’s Detroit Tigers where he presided over the firing of the popular and long-time broadcaster Ernie Harwell. He served there until he was fired in 1992. In retirement, Schembechler was involved in many charities as well as a pre-game show on Detroit’s ABC affiliate where he provided analysis on Michigan and the rest of the Big Ten . Bo died on November 17th, 2006 at the age of 77 from terminal heart disease where the cardiac tissue does not respond to a pacemaker’s signals. This day was particularly of note, due to it being the day prior to the first and only time that Ohio State and Michigan had entered their rivalry game ranked #1 and #2. In addition to his many other accolades, Bo’s teams at Miami won two Mid-American Conference championships, and came 2nd three times, only finishing worse than that once.
John Pont 1956 - 1962 43-22-2 Left to coach at Yale University , where he coached two seasons. Following 1964, he was hired to coach the Indiana University football team. His first two seasons were difficult, compiling a (3-16-1) record. The 1967 season, however, was a completely different story. The Hoosiers went (9-2-0) overall with a (6-1-0) record in the Big Ten Conference which was good enough for a share of the title with Minnesota and Purdue . This earned Indiana a trip to their first bowl game, a Rose Bowl Game appearance that saw them fall to #1 University of Southern California by a score of 14 to 3. His teams at Indiana never recaptured the success of 1967, though, and he left in 1973 to become the head coach and eventually athletic director at Northwestern University . He held the position of athletic director until 1980. He went into sales and automobile leasing for a few years until 1985 when he took the Hamilton High School head coaching job. After a few seasons, he was approached by the College of Mount St. Joseph to begin a football program. He coached there from the inaugural season in 1990 to 1992 before moving to Japan to be a consultant and coach in the X-League. He spent 13 seasons there, before retiring in 2005. John died in 2008 at the age of 80 in Oxford, OH. While at Miami, he won two Mid-American Conference titles. During his career he was named coach of the year by 5 different organizations.
Ara ParseghianHOF 1951 - 1955 39-6-1 Accepted the position of head football coach at Northwestern University after a consecutive pair of Mid-American Conference championships at Miami. He was hired to Northwestern by former Miami head coach Stu Holcomb. Coming off a (0-8-1) season, Parseghian brought the Wildcats up to (4-4-1) in 1956, before having a winless 1957 season. In 1958, Northwestern finished (5-4-0) with two of the wins coming over conference foes Michigan and Ohio State . During his tenure, he also beat Notre Dame four straight times, following the renewal of their series. Toward the end of his time at Northwestern , Parseghian began to grow frustrated with the financial situation of athletics and academic requirements for athletes compared to the rest of the Big Ten Conference . He was told in 1963 his contract would not be renewed. Parseghian, knowing his contract was coming to an end, called the chairman of the athletics board at Notre Dame University . He asked if the current interim coach was to be given the job full-time, and was told that there was an on-going coaching search to which he expressed his interest. Additionally, Parseghian entertained an offer to coach at the University of Miami where he knew the athletic director. Ultimately, he received an offer for the Notre Dame and accepted it. Coaching the Fighting Irish from 1964 to 1974, Parseghian immediately made an impact, leading them to a (9-1-0) record. In his time at Notre Dame , the team won two national championships, a Cotton Bowl , a Sugar Bowl , an Orange Bowl , and John Huarte’s Heisman Trophy . His tenure oversaw the Fighting Irish break their long standing policy to not participate in bowl games, using the proceeds to fund minority scholarships. The extreme pressure of the job caused him to privately decide to resign, officially announcing it at the end of the 1974 saying he was “physically exhausted and emotionally drained”. He is considered one of the “Holy Trinity” of Notre Dame coaches along with Knute Rockne and Frank Leahy and had a (95-17-4) record at the school without a single losing season. The last time Ara roamed the sideline as a head coach was at the 1976 Chicago College All-Star Game, where collegiate all-stars played against the Super Bowl Champion Pittsburgh Steelers at Soldier Field, which was also the last game of its kind. Parseghian began a broadcasting career, and was an analyst at ABC Sports , initially alongside the legendary Keith Jackson from 1975 to 1981. He then moved to CBS Sports where he worked until 1988. Parseghian won seven coach of the year awards over his career, as well as the Amos Alonzo Stage Award in 1997. Later in his life, he dedicated himself to medical causes related to multiple sclerosis. He died in 2017 at the age of 94 of an infection related to hip surgery. He is partly responsible for the renewal of the Notre Dame/Michigan Rivalry due to his friendship with former Miami University teammate Bo Schembechler, as well as for the return to Notre Dame’s more classic look, removing shamrocks and other adornments with a return to plain navy blue jerseys.
Woody HayesHOF 1949 - 1950 14-5-0 Accepted the position of head football coach at The Ohio State University where he coached from 1951 to 1978 compiling an impressive record (205-61-10), 13 Big Ten Conference championships, 5 national championships, 4 Rose Bowl Game victories, coaching two players to a combined 3 Heisman Trophies , and earning 9 coach of the year awards from various sources. His tenure at Ohio State did not come without controversies and outbursts, eventually ending his career as a football coach after the infamous 1978 Gator Bowl incident where he punched Clemson nose guard Charlie Bauman after an interception near the end of the game. Following the incident, athletic director High Hindman (who played for Hayes at Miami, and had been an assistant under him for seven years) confronted Hayes and implied he had coached his last game. He urged Hayes to resign, but Hayes refused. Hayes was fired the following morning. Hayes continued to teach Military History at Ohio State, and maintained an office in the ROTC building. During the 1980s, Hayes hosted six broadcasts of WWII films on WBNS in Columbus,OH. In addition to hosting, Hayes would provide historical commentary related to each film. These segments were taped in many different locations including Fort Knox, West Point, the USS Yorktown, and Stuttgart, Germany where he interviewed the son of German General Erwin Rommel.The day prior to his death, he had a student drive him in his pickup truck to Dayton, Ohio to introduce Bo Schembechler at a banquet at the Agonis Club (despite the organizers urging him not to due to his health). He stood and gave a long introduction to Schembechler talking of their friendship. He stayed to listen to Bo, and was then driven back home. He was found unconscious by his wife in his bed in the morning. He died of a heart attack in 1987 at the age of 74. At Miami, Hayes won a Mid-American Conference championship, as well as a Salad Bowl victory against Arizona State College . Despite his controversies, Hayes was a firm believer in academics, teaching mandatory English and vocabulary classes to his football teams, being a professor of military history, as well as urging donations to the academic rather than athletic side of Ohio State throughout his life and following his death.
George Blackburn 1948 7-1-1 Left to join his former boss at Miami, Sid Gillman, at the University of Cincinnati as an assistant coach, leaving for only one year to be an assistant at West Point in 1954. He was promoted to head coach at Cincinnati when Gillman left for the Los Angeles Rams in 1955. He served as head coach from 1955 to 1960 compiling a record of (25-27-6). He became an assistant coach at the University of Virginia in 196 before being promoted to the position of head coach in 1965. He was awarded the ACC coach of the year award in 1968 following a (7-3-0) season. He retired from coaching after leaving Virginia in 1970 to become a professional football scout. He worked as a scout for 17 years, working for NFL’s New Orleans Saints, Houston Oilers, and New England Patriots. Blackburn earned a Super Bowl ring with the Patriots in 1985. He retired at the age of 74 in Florida. He died in 2006 at the age of 92 in Dublin, Ohio.
Sid GillmanHOF 1944 - 1947 31–6-1 Left the head coaching position at Miami to become an offensive and defensive line coach at the United States Military Academy . After the 1948 season, he took the head coaching job at the University of Cincinnati where he coached until 1954 accumulating a record of (50-13-1) and three Mid-American Conference titles. His record as a college head coach stands at (81-19-2). He left Cincinnati to become the head coach of the NFL’s Los Angeles Rams, where he led the team to the NFL Championship Game. He left the NFL and the Rams after 1959 to join the AFL’s Los Angeles and San Diego Chargers. During his time with the Chargers, he accumulated 5 western division titles and the 1963 AFL Championship. In 1963, he approached the NFL commissioner with the idea to have his AFL champions and the NFL champions play a game. His idea was not implemented until 1967. Gillman’s tenure with the Chargers ended after the 1969 season, he still holds the Chargers coach career wins record with 86. Gillman went on to coach the Houston Oilers in the 1973 and 1974 seasons, he later became the offensive coordinator for the Chicago Bears in 1977 and a consultant/QB coach for the Philadelphia Eagles from 1979 to 1981. In 1983, Gillman became the director of operations for the United States Football League’s Oklahoma Outlaws, where he was fired after 6 months due to a financial dispute. In 1984, he served as a consultant to the USFL’s Los Angeles Express, retiring for good after that one season stint. Sid died in 2003 at the age of 91. Sid Gillman’s coaching tree can lay claim to a total of 26 Super Bowls, including Super Bowl 50. To name a few branches: Chuck Noll, John Madden, Bill Walsh, Jon Gruden, John Harbaugh, and Mike Tomlin. Gillman is credited with being the first coach to study game footage/film. He is also the first Miami coach to take the team to and win a bowl game: the 13 to 12 1948 Sun Bowl victory against Texas Technological College .
Stu Holcomb 1942 - 1943 10-8-1 Left Miami to become an assistant coach at the United States Military Academy . While an assistant football coach at West Point , Holcomb also served as the head coach of the basketball team, leading them to two consecutive winning seasons. In 1947, he became the head coach at Purdue University , compiling a (35-42-4). In 1950, his Boilermakers broke a 39-game skid against Notre Dame University , defeating the Irish 28-14 in the second game of the season. In 1952, he secured the Big Ten Conference co-championship and a #18 ranking, sharing the honors with #11 University of Wisconsin . At the end of the 1955 season, Holcomb left Purdue to become the athletic director at Northwestern University . He served as the athletic director there until 1966 when he took the general manager position at the Chicago Mustangs of the United Soccer Association. The association folded in 1968, and Holcomb was reassigned by the owner to the Chicago White Sox in the position of public relations director. He was promoted in 1970 to the position of general manager in order to replace Ed Short, as the White Sox were ending their season with the worst record in team history (56-106). Stu died of a heart attack in 1977 at the age of 66.
Frank Wilton 1932 - 1941 44–39-5 Following the December 7th attack on Pearl Harbor, Wilton resigned from Miami effective at the end of the school year. He joined the United States Navy and was commissioned as a Lieutenant in the United States Navy Reserve. During the war, he was stationed at a pre-flight training base in Memphis, Tennessee. Later, he ran athletic programs for ComAir 7th Fleet in the Pacific. Following the conclusion of WWII, he ran the athletic programs at Naval Air Station Saint Mary’s College of California. After leaving the Navy, he worked as a training coordinator at the Kimberly-Clark Corporation. He also coached the company football team for two seasons. It is assumed that he retired from the Kimberly-Clark Corporation. He died in 1977 at the age of 72. While at Miami, Wilton accumulated more wins than any other Miami head coach, and retained that record until 1997. Currently he is third on the all-time wins list at Miami University. He oversaw three Buckeye Athletic Association titles, and then the move to independence in 1939.
Chester Pittser 1924 - 1931 41–25-2 Left Miami after the 1931 season, and resumed coaching in 1934 at Montclair State Teachers College . He coached there until 1944. Chester died in 1978 at the age of 85. During his tenure at Miami, he mentored future legendary coaches Paul Brown and Webb Ewbank.
Harry W. Ewing 1922 - 1923 7–7-2 I cannot find why Ewing left Miami, or why he had a hiatus from coaching between 1924 and 1934 when he resumed coaching at Otterbein College . At Otterbein he became known as “Mr. Athletics” he coached a number of sports at the school while also serving as Athletic Director, trainer, and Physical Education Director. He retired from Otterbein in 1958. He died in 1962 at the age of 75.
George LittleHOF, 2nd Tenure 1919 - 1921 20-3-1 Left to become Fielding Yost’s top assistant coach at the University of Michigan , as well as assistant athletic director. He coached under Most for two seasons, before being named the head coach in 1924. In 1925, Little accepted the position of athletic director at the University of Wisconsin , serving also as their head coach during the 1925 and 1926 seasons before stepping down to devote his full attention to the position of athletic director. He resigned from this post in 1932 to accept position as director of physical education (AD) at Rutgers University . He stayed in this position until 1953, at which point he became a special assistant to the university president. Concurrently, in 1952 he accepted the position of executive director of the National Football Foundation and National Football Hall of Fame. He served in this capacity until his death in 1957 at the age of 67 from uremia.
George Rider 1917 - 1918 11–0-3 Stepped down when George Little returned from serving in WW1. He continued to serve as the basketball coach at Miami for the 1918-19 season, before going to Washington University where he coached football from 1920 to 1922. He returned to Miami in 1924 as the athletic director, and to coach track, serving as the head coach until 1960 while winning 9 Buckeye Conference championships and 10 consecutive Mid-American Conference championships. He served as athletic director until 1940. He died in 1979 at the age of 88. As head football coach at Miami, his teams lost no games and won back-to-back Ohio Athletic Conference championships. His 1917 team outscored opponents 202 to nothing. His 1918 team was similarly successful, but three games were cancelled due to the 1918 flu pandemic. The Miami University track is named in his honor.
George LittleHOF, 1st Tenure 1916 7–0-1 Left to join the army and serve in WW1. He served as an infantry captain from August 1917 to August 1918. His first season saw the Redskins shut out six of their eight opponents and win the Ohio Athletic Conference championship. He returned for the 1919 season.
Chester Roberts 1915 6–2-0 Moved to Platteville, Wisconsin to teach physical culture following the 1915-16 academic year. He taught and coached the football team at Platteville Normal College for the 1917 season. Following his coaching career, he worked in the paper and automobile industries in Wisconsin before moving to California in 1940 to work for the Lockheed Corporation. Chester died of a heart attack in 1946 while visiting a friend at the age of 57.
James Donnelly 1912 - 1914 14–8-2 Was replaced by an all-year athletic coach. Donnelly was not able to fulfill this role, as he needed to take time off from his Massachusetts law practice in order to coach. Following his time at Miami, he coached a single season for the Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 1915 before retiring from coaching. He continued his law career, and in 1931 was named to a judgeship in the Superior Court in Worcester. Tragically, James and his daughter Rosemary were killed when his car was hit head-on by a semi-truck in 1952. He was 70, she was 28.
Edwin Sweetland 1911 2–4-2 Left to return to the University of Kentucky as Athletic Director, which included the positions of football and basketball head coach. He left this position in 1913 after he and six students were accused of arson regarding a fire set in an athletic department critic’s on-campus office. The warrants were sworn by Captain Richard Webb, a former University of Kentucky football coach and member of a prominent Lexington family. Due to evidence and testimony the case’s focus soon shifted from Sweetland onto Webb, but in the end Webb was found not guilty due to several family members providing an alibi, and fingerprint evidence being thrown out. Kentucky could not convince Sweetland to stay, and he left with a (23-5-0) record. He took the West Virginia University head coaching job for the 1913 season, but was forced out after compiling a (3-4-2) record that greatly upset alumni and fans who called for the hiring of a “nationally known coach”. It was in-between his WVU and next stop where he met his wife, a nurse he met while recuperating from a broken leg suffered by an errant foul ball. They were married secretly in Ohio. Sweetland took the Tulane University head coaching job for the 1914 season in which he compiled a (3-3-1) record, tying rival Louisiana State University 0-0. He left Tulane after a single season to return to his home state of New York, coaching part-time at Alfred University . After a particularly harsh open meeting where he was critiqued for his team’s play and practice schedule, he declared he could no longer coach at Alfred , leaving with a (17-5-0) record prior to the 1920 season. After coaching, he stayed in New York as a lawyer and farmer, and was a prominent member of his local Democratic Party serving in various capacities including Supervisor of the Town of Dryden from 1938 to 1944. Edwin died in 1950 at the age of 75, following his wife who died in 1930.
Harold Iddings 1909 - 1910 5–8-1 Was not retained or left following the (2-4-1) 1910 season. Coaching basketball at the University of Kentucky during the 1910-11 season before moving on to coach the football and basketball teams at Simpson College . In 1915, he played professional football for the Canton Bulldogs, before being replaced by Jim Thorpe. In 1916, he returned to coaching college football and basketball, this time at Otterbein College . He reappeared again at Carnegie Institute of Technology as a basketball coach for the 1920-21 season, and then as football coach at Penn College for the 1921 season. Following the 1921 season he retired from college football coaching, opting to become the athletic director at Thornton Township High School. He coached the basketball team there from 1921 to 1929, and the football team from 1929 to 1931. He retired completely in 1946, living on his farm in Westville, Indiana until his death in 1952 at the age of 67.
Amos Foster 1907 - 1908 13–1-0 Left to pursue law in Ohio where he lived until his death in Cincinnati in 1952 at the age of 72.
Arthur H. Parmelee 1906 1-5-1 Left or was not retained after the 1906 season. He entered Rush Medical College and graduated in 1911. He interned at Kansas City General Hospital, and then began assisting a doctor in Minneapolis. He moved back to Illinois in 1913 to open a pediatric practice, eventually also taking a position at Rush Medical College. In 1924, 1931 and 1932 he went to Austria to study under the leading European pediatrician, Clemens von Pirquet. He left his private practice and resigned from Rush Medical College in 1947, and moved to Los Angeles. There he joined Children’s Hospital Los Angeles and became a pediatric consultant to the Bureau of Maternal and Child Health of the California State Department of Public Heath as well as a Clinical Professor of Pediatrics at the University of Southern California . Parmelee published 44 articles, his most significant being “The Pathology of Steatorrhea” in the American Journal of Diseases of Children. His work developed into a serious examination of the factors influencing newborn health. He died at the UCLA Medical Center in 1961 of a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 77. The only tie of Miami’s 1906 season came against rival Cincinnati by a score of 0-0.
Nobody 1905 4-3-0 Hired Arthur H. Parmelee. This is the final time Miami would be without a head coach.
Arthur K. Smith 1904 1–5-0 He was not retained after the 1904 season. He may have been involved in municipal/civil engineering based on one source I found. I’m unsure on when he was born or died, maybe some nice Dartmouth alumni could check their records for the class of 1903 for me! His single season at Miami was very rough. All five losses were shutouts including scores of 80-0 to Ohio State and 68-0 to Wittenberg .
Peter McPherson 1902 - 1903 6–7-1 Miami’s Board of Control of Athletics did not retain him after the 1903 season, and he left to focus on dentistry. Later, while working as a dentist, he coached the Caledonia High School football team in Caledonia, NY for 23 years. He died in 1941 after being hit by an automobile at the age of 67.
Thomas Hazzard 1901 1–3-1 Retired from coaching to continue his work with the Episcopal Church. He moved to Briarcliff, NY in 1902 to become the rector of All Saints Episcopal Church. In 1907 he left All Saints to form a home and school for disadvantaged children called Hope Farm where he built several buildings and served as director. He resigned his positions there in 1917 to become a riveter at International Shipbuilding Company for WWI. Following the war, he went to Liberia as a missionary in the Episcopal Church. After two years, he returned to New York to be a rector. He retired in the 1950s, later moving in with his son. He died in 1957 at the age of 85 from a prolonged illness.
Alonzo Edwin Branch 1900 0–4-0 Left and retired from coaching. Moved to New York City, NY in approximately 1905 going into business (undefined). He worked in New York City until his death in 1925 at the age of 51 from a lingering illness. He played football at Williams College as a halfback, and was captain in 1898. He was a member of Gargoyle and class-day president.
George F. Greenleaf, Jr. 1899 1–5-0 Left after the season to continue practicing medicine as a graduate of the University of Michigan Department of Medicine and Surgery. He was married in 1914 to Estella Fuquay. He moved to Chicago where he continued to practice medicine. He died in 1936 at the age of 61 from hypertension and cerebral hemorrhage. He was not paid for his coaching at Miami, and is not listed in the media guide.
Nobody 1898 0–2-0 George Greenleaf, doctor and graduate of the University of Michigan where he was a quarterback and end, volunteered to coach the 1899 season.
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2019.06.03 10:08 xooxanthellae Ornette Coleman playlist & discography discussion pt. 1, 1958-1959

-----> Spotify playlist
  1. “When Will The Blues Leave” (from Something Else!!!!, 1958)
  2. “Jayne” (from Something Else!!!!, 1958)
  3. “Crossroads” (from The Complete Live at the Hillcrest Club, 1958) <-- not on spotify
  4. “Mind and Time” (from Tomorrow Is The Question!, 1959)
  5. “Turnaround” (from Tomorrow Is The Question!, 1959)
  6. “Tears Inside” (from Tomorrow Is The Question!, 1959)
  7. “Eventually” (from The Shape of Jazz to Come, 1959)
  8. “Ramblin’” (from Change of the Century, 1959)
  9. “Change of the Century” (from Change of the Century, 1959)
  10. “The Circle With A Hole In The Middle” (from The Art of the Improvisers, 1959)
  11. “Lonely Woman” (from The Shape of Jazz to Come, 1959)
Some have said that Ornette already sounded like Ornette in 1947. Eric Dolphy said “Ornette was playing that way in 1954.”
Unfortunately, there are no recordings of Ornette’s apprenticeship -- playing with R&B bands and a traveling minstrel show. He never played with an established jazz band.
He was a weird dude, with long hair and beard; he ate vegetarian and talked weird. He got his ass kicked in 1949 in Baton Rouge because he looked funny. He had trouble finding people to play with him.
Finally, in Los Angeles, he found some musical compatriots. His first recordings are from 1958, seemingly arriving out of nowhere with a new sound -- part Bird taken to the extreme, part primitive Texas blues.
“Jayne” (1958) was named for Jayne Cortez, Ornette’s wife from 1954-1964, who later became a fantastic poet and spoken word artist who frequently recorded with their son Denardo Coleman. (I became a huge fan of Cortez’s poetry and bought a bunch of her books before later realizing that she had been married to Ornette.)
There’s more than an hour of concert recording from late 1958, The Complete Live at the Hillcrest Club, currently hard to find but definitely worth checking out. It features Ornette / Cherry / Bley / Haden / Higgins, the Shape of Jazz to Come band plus Bley.
“Turnaround”, a groovy blues from Tomorrow Is The Question!, got its name because the song reverses the typical soloing order, going from bass to drums to trumpet to sax. Tomorrow Is The Question! has some insane solos, but the rhythm section of Percy Heath & Shelley Manne just doesn’t sound quite there yet.
The Shape of Jazz to Come was recorded just a month or two after Kind of Blue. This quartet of Ornette/Cherry/Haden/Higgins records again on Change of the Century. Twins, The Art of the Improvisors, and To Whom Who Keeps a Record collect unreleased songs from 1959-1961.
There are a couple live songs from the Lenox School of Jazz benefit concert (apparently a school created by John Lewis of MJQ), but the sound quality isn’t great and Ornette is seemingly playing with students. It’s available on youtube.
In late 1959, Ornette first hit the New York scene with a two month residency at the Five Spot. Despite being hated on by traditionalists, he had some powerful allies: Nat Hentoff, LeRoi Jones, John Coltrane, and his primary champion, John Lewis of the MJQ.
Other playlists:
  1. 1958-1959
  2. 1960-1962
  3. 1965-1966
  4. 1968-1973
  5. 1975-1987
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2019.03.12 19:20 YouEatRobots Fallout: New Orleans part II

Hey guys! I was inspired by all of the positive and constructive feedback that I got from my last post. I wrote down and flushed out some more ideas for Fallout: New Orleans that I wanted to share. I even added links to some of the lesser known people, places, and things in the New Orleans area for those who have never visited.
Here’s a link to the original
Part 2:
The more I thought of quests and achievements, the more I realized they all revolved around rebuilding the city. I think the major theme of the game would be Rebirth. Rebirth of a city and rebirth of a nation.
Gameplay elements:
I think incorporating a strong science and medical backbone to the game would be cool. Similar to survival and crafting skills in the previous games, the player should have a plethora of medications and chemicals to produce that can be both used for health benefits and weaponized. For instance, the player can formulate sedative medications using various plants or other compounds. They could use the sedative to counteract a negative status effect or weaponize it to produce tranquilizer darts for no-kill runs, kidnapping, or whatever else they can imagine. The system could be slightly based in real science (i.e. acids, bases, volatiles, etc.) and encourage players to experiment to produce new substances that could benefit or harm them. You could also affect existing chemicals. For instance imagine the ability to mod stimpacks to have different properties (immediate vs prolonged regeneration, more HP but comes with debuffs, healing affect relative to the amount of damage you have sustained, etc)
Similarly, I feel like the medicine and surgeon skills were drastically underused and not adequately integrated into gameplay as much as other skills. Imagine with a high surgical skill, you have higher chances of specific anatomic damage, such as nerve damage (crippling), vascular damage (causing slow bleeding), or lung injury (affecting stamina and speed).
It may be the teacher in me, but I feel incorporating some subtle history, art, science, and medical education into the story and gameplay would be and fun addition to the game. It is not meant to be annoying or deceptive, more just a real life perk that comes with enjoying a game.

More Quests:

Achievements (accomplishing some achievements will give you a bonus perk or SPECIAL point):
Perks
Traits
Companions
Somebody brought up companions in a nice comment and I did not have a chance to respond before it was deleted. I initially did not even think about companions but they are such a great addition as they add so much backstory and allow you to follow a character arc besides your own. Here’s are some companions I thought of:

Once again, that you all so much for all the supportive feedback. This is such an amazing and imaginative community, I’m so glad I was able to share my little thought exercise with you. This will be the last big one I post, I promise. I’ve got to cut myself off so I can get back to working at my real job.
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2018.11.09 22:28 Max_Sparrow Gay Romance Non-explicit called; "THE MIRROR," by Max Sparrow

Gay Romance Non-explicit called;
The Mirror Can See the Truth

VISIT MY WEBSITE AT www.maxsparrowbooks.com For Blog and More Reads

About The Mirror

This is a short story that looks into the life of two lovers. The main character finds himself in a sudden position of success, but he cannot handle the pressure that is a manifestation of his personal fears. His lover helps him along the way, but because he has trouble accepting his identity, the relationship becomes sour over the years. While his lover is loyal to him, loyalty only goes so far. The main character finds himself hitting rock bottom as he uses substances to cope with the pain. It has a classic ending. Bottom line- The Mirror is about accepting who you are as a person and being a homosexual doesn't define you. It is only a sexual preference. This story is one of my most popular writings.

The Mirror

(Creative- Non-Fiction)
By:
Max Sparrow
The Present…
I toy with my wedding band. Turning the ring sideways, I let out a sigh, and read the description out-loud. "To my true love, Max.” Today would have been our tenth year wedding anniversary.
I pull out a 200 dollar vintage, 2009 bottle of Dom Perignon from the fridge. It was Matt’s favorite beverage, and I sip it slowly. Everybody forms a concept of love that they feed upon as churchgoers feed on scripture and I have come to the dreary conclusion that no human knows what love really is. This thought sways in my head like the gentle branches of a Magnolia tree as I take another sip of the champaign. I look at the busy streets below my penthouse balcony. People move in different directions as they go about their daily tasks. Some carry briefcases while others hold the hands of children. A few walk at a brisk pace, and further down the street, by the subway, tired and weary beggars sit as they cling to the warmth of their jackets. I often wonder what other people feel— if they feel? Do the people walking on the streets feel the same pain that rips me apart?… It is a pain I have never known until I met Matt. It is something that I can only describe as heartache.
The story of Matt and I’s separation is long and unhappy. I learned through the moments of my twisted relationship that there are no happy stories in life. There are only happy moments.
Years Ago…
I loved looking at the blinking billboards and touring the casinos. As I strolled outside the Las Vegas Walkways and looked at one flashing sign after the other, I was in awe. Each sign was seductive in its own ways. Offering great gambling odds, deals on drinks, and shows. I wondered who replaced the bulbs that burned out and how long the bulbs lasted. A woman’s voice swept out into the streets as she serenaded those passing by the casino doors with a sweet melody. I looked up at a flashing neon sign above me but I didn’t bother to read it. The flash of the bright light and the voice was excitement enough. I fought the bustling crowd as I went inside. There were young couples, groups of people, and in front of me an elderly man who kept shouting over the noise to his wife.
“I can’t hear you!” She screamed back and I could see the frustration on her face as she pushed buttons on her hearing aid. I was inclined to give a smile of amusement, but I knew a day would come when I might find myself in the same predicament. I was in my early twenties but everybody told me I had an old maid’s perception about the world. One professor in college looked at me and said, “Max, if you were sliced in half, there would be more rings to count than a 200-year-old tree.” The class laughed but I did not. I knew I was unusual because I saw the world in a different light. It was as if everybody around me was watching the world unfold as if it were a movie in black and white while I was looking at the same movie but in color. I felt and I perceived conflict in society from a much more emotional standpoint. This usual perception of the world led to bouts of depression that interfered with my ability to function. At times, I felt like my mind was being spun in a cement truck— around, and around.
I passed through crowds of people and towards the seductive voice of the honey-toned women. She had a soft voice. It was like she was singing a lullaby solely to me. I hadn’t been the only one who heard her as I followed the crowd:
“That voice”
“I Know!”
“Beautiful!”
I was almost into the theater hall when my eye caught a waitress gliding down a hallway with a tray of cocktails. Her job was to lubricate spenders on the casino floor as they offered customers something more valuable than money— hope. The creation of this illusion would empty their pockets into the casino’s coffers.
“Ma’am,” I hollered through the crowd as I battled my way towards her. She was speeding towards the casino tables in a shimmering sequin dress. I picked up a glass of cabernet as she passed without her noticing me.
With my glass of wine I finally entered the room that the sensational voice was drifting from and as my eyes gazed upon this talented singer, my heart cried for her in pity. While I wasn’t a music critic, I thought the packed theater was a testament to her voice’s beauty. Sadly, however, that was all that was beautiful about her. Even from a distance, where I stood, I saw her giant clown nose stretched across her watermelon-shaped head. Giant moles were scattered across her face and she had a drooping double chin. I knew regardless of how wonderful her voice was — what people saw on the outside would always deter her from rising up the ladder of success. I wondered what she saw when she looked in the mirror?
I was moseying about aimlessly and it was close to midnight when I thought I should turn in. It had been a night full of blinking signs, gasping gamblers, and good wine. I was struggling to walk in a straight line and had lost count of how many drinks I had. My vacation was almost over, I thought dreadfully. I had a consistent problem of taking joy away from things that had yet to end. I was mauling over the return to Louisiana in two days. “Back to the same old,” I told myself. In my mind, I began weaving unneeded thoughts of distress of returning home to the hot sticky, humid town of Baton Rouge when I collided with another person. The content of my glass went flying across the man’s white shirt.
“I am so sorry— oh God— I am so sorry," I was babbling frantically. "I will give you money to pay for the dry cleaning,” I said, and I was panicking. When I looked up, I went silent. Our eyes met, and we both looked into each other’s eyes. He had the slightest smile on his face and his eyes were the warmest and inviting blues I had ever seen.
“I’m Matt,” he said as he broke the silence and extended a hand. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered that his shirt was soaked in red wine.
“I am Max," I replied and shook his hand nervously. "And the name of the red wine on your shirt is cabernet." He laughed at that, and I smiled.
“Would you like to have a drink with me at the bar?” He asked and I couldn’t help but stare at him curiously for a moment. His eyes lit up but brighter than any moon I had seen, and they glistened with more beauty than any stars. I saw the entire universe dancing in his eyes. Even more— they lit a fire in me. I tended not to engage with men that made my heart feel the slightest bit warm. Love was a foreign concept that I evaded because I saw it as mindless and irrational. I have scoffed at many people who have told me that I might one day be at its mercy. At that moment I would have had to agree.
“Yes, sure a drink,” I said. He led the way to the bar.
We talked late into the night. Matt was a professor of psychology but when he asked me what my profession was— I paused. I tipped my drink and guzzled down the contents of the glass before responding. My eyes found their way to the bottom of the floor.
“I recently submitted a book for publication. I was given an advance and I thought— what the hell— I’ll go to Las Vegas.” I answered while I propped my head up with my elbow on the bar counter.
“I find that incredibly romantic,” He replied softly as he leaned in and gave me a gentle kiss. As our lips met I felt a rush of ecstasy flush through my body. I should have walked away but I couldn’t. There was something about his charm that held me captive.
“So, you’re a writer?” He asked, pulling away from my lips and brushing his long bangs away from his dazzling blue eyes. I wanted to grab him by the shirt with my fists and press my lips against his while we tumbled down upon the ground in passion.
I downed another drink before replying, “Yes I am. I am a writer.” Matt smiled at this.
He told me that he had come to Las Vegas on a similar mission— to explore. “I love traveling. There is so much beauty in the world, and I don’t want to miss any of it.”
“Where have you traveled to?” I asked as my eyes were drawn to the red wine stain on his neatly button-down shirt. A simple mistake that could shift the direction of my life. Such irrelevant choices could lead to profound change— simplicity is underrated, I decided at that moment.
“Oh, I have been to the United Kingdom. I love Paris and London. I fell in love with their culture. One of my favorite things to do was look down from my studio apartment at night and watch people bustling in the busy street below.” He placed his hand on mine. It felt warm. It felt right. I loved it.
We spent hours talking about our traveling experiences. Our conversation would begin to die down after a couple hours and he we stared at each other for several seconds of comfortable silence. “Wanta come to my hotel room?” I did not hesitate. Downing another shot of vodka, I said, “Let’s go!”
We got married in Las Vegas and exchanged wedding rings. Matt told me that night, I had something special about me. I was innocent and beautiful. I wanted to believe that.
I moved with Matt to Arizona where he worked at a local college, and my book was published. It received good reviews, and it appeared in every bookstore. The book consisted of many references to the homosexual lifestyle and the fear and shame I had because of my sexuality. People bought it. Some Christian fanatic groups burned my books— but either way— my book was being purchased.
One week after it was released I was drunk more than usual, and I shared my feelings with Matt. “I am not somebody who deserves success,” I said. Matt eyed me curiously before smiling at me.
“We all deserve success, Max. I believe true success is happiness,” he replied. “Are you happy?” He asked me.
I thought about what he said for several moments as I looked off in a daze and into the blackness of the night in the far window of the room. Finally, I reconnected my eyes with his and said softly, “Let’s have a martini.” Matt laughed at me.
The publisher called me a week and a half after the book's release. They insisted that I go on tour and begin writing another book. After I hung up the phone, I picked up Matt’s cigarettes. It had been years since I last smoked, but the slender tubes of tobacco calmed my nerves. I was laying in bed with Matt as I hung up the phone and struck a flame to my cigarette.
“What the hell are you doing?” Matt asked as he lay on his side and looked at me curiously.
“That was the publisher,” I said as I adjusted my head against the pillow and took deep breathes from the cigarette.
“I don’t want you smoking, Max,” Matt said as he tried to take the cigarette from my hand. I pulled it out of his reach.
Mat looked at me with discerning eyes before asking, “What did the publisher say?”
“I-I- I don’t want to talk about.” I stood up from the bed and paced back and forth. I was puffing on the cigarette with such fury that the coal had already dwindled to the filter. The heat of the ash could be felt on my knuckles. This was my chance, I thought to myself. I had an opportunity, to show my skill but I knew, I could serenade the audience with beautiful words just like that singer serenaded me in Las Vegas. I could writer wonderful pieces of literature for the publishing firm but at the end of the day when we both looked in the mirror, we were hideous. These thoughts of despair might have all been all in my head but when you believe something long enough, it becomes a truth.
I turned towards Matt and relayed what the publisher said. He laughed.
“You just got great news, and you are stressed?” Matt replied as he continued to smile. “What is it you’re afraid of?” I looked at Matt and was silent. “Well, let’s hope you never win the lottery. God forbid— cause that would make you go nuts!” He continued to laugh, but I looked away.
I finally said in a whimper, “I can’t, Matt. I can’t handle the pressure. I can’t do this.” I put my cigarette out in the ashtray and lay beside him on the bed. He grabbed my shoulder as he nestled my head on his lap.
“Yes, you can— I believe in you, and I know you can do this.” He said soothingly while he stroked my hair. He lifted my chin with his hand and gave me a tender kiss.
I would begin to promote my book, and started writing the next one. Matt and I would travel the country. The first trip we took was to Chicago, and I was nervous. The doctor prescribed me Ativan. I ate them like tic-tacs. With the Ativan and alcohol mixed, I could successfully handle book reviews and attend book signings with ease. When people thanked me for writing my book, I couldn’t help but squint my eyes in puzzlement and wonder how they could not see who I really was. Yet I still managed to say, “It was my honor.” I pulled it off these events successfully.
While I signed books; I took praise, and made small talk with people who bought my works, Matt was in charge of filling the coffee cup with vodka. I would sip on it while listening to people tell me how much my book meant to them. My repertoire with the public was considered incredibly positive as I began to engage with bigger audiences and more fans.
I remember the day we ended the publicity campaigns.
“I gotta to tell you-you're amazing with people.” I looked at Matt as he collapsed into a chair at the airport.
“Looks can be deceiving," I replied and smiled but it was a meager smile.
Earlier that day we had attended the last promotional event. It was late afternoon, and we were waiting to board a plane back to Arizona. My attention was focused on the bottle of Ativan I was emptying into my hand.
“Why are you taking so many pills?” Matt asked curiously. I didn't reply until he stood up and snatched the bottle from my hands.
“You don't need these,” he said, pulling the bottle above his head and out of my grasp. Matt was taller than me.
“Please give them to me,” I begged. “Please.” For a moment he looked at me carefully. Then he handed me the bottle but was silent. He was silent the entire plane trip home. I preferred the silence.
Days would pass slowly for me. I stayed in our house for lengthy periods of time with curtains drawn and the lights off. I would lay down in bed while I typed my book. Once a month I would make an appearance and read lines from my new work. The readings continued to go well, but as deadlines approached for my second manuscript, I would drink even heavier.
Matt continually insisted that we socialize. I was content to drink away the night as my fingers glided across the keyboard. My refusal to accompany Matt outside of our apartment started fights. It would lead to the first of several eruptions.
“Max, for fuck sake, we are going out!” He hollered. He was already dressed and looked charming in his blue jeans, Tommy Hilfiger shirt, and a sports coat that fit snugly on him. His black hair was combed to the side.
“I have to write,” I replied as I took a long drag from the cigarette and exhaled slowly. That was only half of the truth.
“Every day it’s the same shit. You say you will go out with me and never do,” Matt protested as he slammed his hand down on the desk I was typing on. “Look, Max, I know your work is important, but you are becoming obsessed with this. Let that go... Common, Please! We can go to some clubs. Get drunk. Trust me— it will be fun. We can get a banana daiquiri— your favorite,” Matt said as his voice became relaxed. He stood behind me while he rubbed my shoulders. When I didn’t reply he went to the windows and begun to open drapes as he let the rays of the setting sun shun through the windows. At last, I looked up at him with weary eyes, as he said, “We can go out dancing. Perhaps we could dance to your favorite song? The first song we danced too.”
Matt walked over to me and grabbed both of my hands and said, “Look into my eyes.” I did, but only for a moment.
“I have to work,” I repeated as I pulled my hands away. I began to peck away at the keys. Matt stood still, but I knew he was staring coldly at me. He was angry and I didn’t know how to properly communicate what I was feeling. Perhaps if I had been able to communicate my feelings— maybe our relationship could have been saved.
“Fuck you, Max,” he said and he left the apartment. That was the first time he cursed at me. After he left, I put my cigarette out in the ashtray and covered my face with my hands as I cried.
Matt continued to pressure me to leave the apartment. We were in New York for an appointment with my publisher when Matt had a volatile explosion that would be the worst confrontation the two of us had during the relationship.
“Max, please, let’s go out,” He begged. “This is New York City.” I looked up at him and shook my head no, back and forth. I was stumbling to the bar in the apartment.
“I have been by your side and hold your hand through everything! I gave up my job! There isn’t a thing I haven’t done for you! I want to go out, common, Max. You will have a great time.” I was no longer paying attention to Matt. Instead, I was busy fixing a drink and laying out different Benzos on a table. Matt stood still as he awaited my response until he realized he wasn’t getting one. He walked to me, took the glass out of my hand and threw it at the wall where it shattered. Then he picked up the pill bottle with an assortment of different Benzo’s.
“What the fuck are you doing!” I screamed.
“Are you in love with me or these pills?” He hollered back as he walked into the bathroom. He unscrewed the top of the bottle and emptied the contents into the toilet.
With my teeth gritted I said, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I grabbed him around the waist as the two of us struggled. He was more powerful and hurled me against the bathroom wall where I slumped down and began to cry. “Are you crying over me or your pills?” He asked in a flare of anger as his eyes glared down at me. Then he left the apartment.
My second book came out, and it too was well received. Not long after its release, I signed a contract for a third book. Matt and I toasted our fifth anniversary.
“I do love you Matt— I do— ya know,” I said as our glasses clinked together. That was the bitter truth.
“And I also love you,” he replied, but I felt his words were cold and distant.
“Why do you love me?” When I asked this question, Matt looked at me with a narrow gaze. He seemed at a distance.
“I just do,” he said and then stood up, and walked away.
My drinking increased as my third book progressed, and I would start to find another love— opiates. I found mixing liquor, Benzo’s and opiates together gave a fantastic high. At first, I took prescription painkillers but this quickly progressed to snorting heroin. Matt would find me passed out in front of my computer screen, picked me up, and tucked me into bed. He had stopped flushing my drugs down the toilet. When I awoke in the morning, I would find him beside me in the bed watching television.
While my relationship deteriorated, the press I worked for insisted that I continued to tour and conduct readings. The publishing house worked me like a slave, but I was living a life of luxury.
I was in a theater in New York, and drinking heavily. The previous night Matt had not come home. I questioned him about it and he said, “If you went out with me, maybe you would have a clue what I am doing!” Since I had engaged in heavy drugs, our sexual relationship had perished. I asked him if he was seeing somebody else, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he walked away from me. His overnight disappearance and possible affair led me to drink heavily on the day of a major book reading.
Matt insisted that they call off the event, but I ignored him. I stumbled across the stage and to the podium where l looked out across the hundreds of people. They were all staring back at me— waiting for me to read— clueless about who I really was. These must be weak people, I thought.
After staring blankly at the audience for several moments I would proceed to read a portion of my book as words tumbled out of my mouth in slurs. After the event, I was told that almost everything I said was incomprehensible.
I would publish my third book, and despite my crude behavior during that reading, it was still a success. The publishing house continued to request my appearance at public events, but Matt was given the authority to stop it if I was inebriated. I signed a document that gave Matt the authority to pull the plug.
My drug use continued, and Matt called off many promotional events. We fought tirelessly and when he asked me to talk to him, I couldn’t. The bickering continually worsened until the final night.
I was snorting heroin off the sink. In ten minutes I was going to be a guest speaker at a local television station. This was the first time I had done heroin outside of the apartment. There was a knock on the bathroom door. I finished the line of heroin, stood up, and proceeded to the door, but I couldn’t walk. I fell down on my face and lay helplessly. The door finally swung open. Matt looked at me on the floor.
“Help me,” I begged my hand outreached towards him. “Please," I repeated. The last thing I remembered was his cold calculated gaze bearing into my eyes— I was desperate and miserable, lying hopelessly on a bathroom floor. I was a man that many people referred to as a brilliant writer but if you don’t see it in yourself, I suppose it doesn’t matter what other people see in you. When I looked in the mirror I saw a person who flawed beyond repair and fighting a battle in life he would never win. I saw a man with a giant nose, covered in moles, and a double chin. I saw a failure.
I awoke in my penthouse apartment, under the covers and I was relieved that Matt had brought me home. The heroin must have been cut with something.
“You need help, and I am just— I am not the one to help you,” Matt said. I was trying to get the computer in my lap but stopped to look up at him. “Look at you. You can barely hold your head up.”
“I don’t know what to say. I - I am struggling. You know that,” I said softly.
“Max, I am sick of this relationship. I am sick of dealing with you when you are high. I feel like a fucking babysitter,” Matt scowled, and we stared at each other. He picked up his keys and headed for the apartment door. “Wait, Matt,” I pleaded. He did not pay me any attention. I watched as the penthouse door slammed closed and I let out a long sigh. That night I worked furiously on my computer as I wrote the beginning of my new book. I struggled to stay awake as I waited for Matt to come home so that we could talk seriously. He didn’t come home that night. I fell asleep.
I awoke the next day— one year ago to this day— and while most people would describe it as a fabulous April day; I looked out the large bay windows and managed to distort the suns rays, and cloudless sky into a dark, miserable world. I stumbled out of bed as I yelped in pain from a nasty hangover. I looked at my watch. It was 1:30 in the afternoon.
“Matt,” I said as I looked over to his side of the bed where he normally sat and watched television. He hadn’t come to bed, and I realized the television wasn’t on. “Matt?!” I cried. The shower wasn’t running. He hadn’t returned, and I expected him to come back in the next few hours or the next day. I was beginning to turn back to the bedroom when I noticed something on the door leading outside of the suite. I walked to it. Taped to the door was his wedding ring, along with a note. The note read, “Many years ago you said you couldn’t do this, and I had responded, ‘Yes, you can— I believe in you, and I know you can do this.’ Max, you can’t do this. When we first met, I loved you, but you’re the person I want to be with. I think you are a monster. You’re on your own.”
I now sit on the balcony downing champagne as I realize that I am living in Fear— Fear of success— Fear of living— Fear of intimacy— Fear of judgment— Fear that I will never be good enough. Fear of who I am. Fear is all I see when I look in the mirror.
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2018.10.09 10:37 FirearmConcierge Diary of a Douchebag: FC does a gun show, Part 2.

Friday, 1PM: I leave work early. I have to set up for the gun show early because the only time my mechanic has for the alignment rack for the next week and a half is friday afternoon and I am in need of an alignment to keep my Michelin Defender's in a nice predictable wear pattern.
My loadout this weekend includes a whole bunch of the usual stuff, Colts, Sigs, HK's, Glock's a few Springfields and four Daniel Defense rifles and an FN SLP Mk 1. I haul over a few used guns that I just took on trade too, a Tavor 556 LH and a Mossberg 500 that I got for $100 off someone wanting to trade it towards a new Glock 23. Four trips with the hand truck gets everything in before the rain starts.
I have reserved two tables but I have enough merchandise to cover three. The exhibitor tells me tables went up so two tables cost me $160 for the weekend and I consider it a small expense to view the express train to hell that is the gun culture.
45 minutes flies by as I set up my table just the way I want it and I get to Lenny's to get my alignment done. He's been doing an alignment for me no charge for the past 3 years after I told him NOT to buy an old Browning shotgun he fell in love with on gunbroker. He wanted to use it for upland hunting, sporting clays, skeet and anything moving through the air killing. It was an old gun that had FIXED barrel chokes - Full and Full. I told him RUN LIKE HELL. He said my advice saved him from a $1500 mistake and the least he can do is keep my car on the road no charge. He gets my car set up on his $80,000 hunter alignment rack and finds my toe in is way out of spec. He spends a few minutes banging around with a wrench and everything is all good. As he's doing that, since I know he won't take my money - I walk to the 7-11 across the street and grab him a tall boy of Rolling Rock. His week is so shitty that he shotguns it faster than Brett Kavanaugh circa 1982. Time to head home. I'm halfway there when the phone rings ring ring
FC: Go for FC
1: Hey FC, it's Captain Bob. How's it going?
FC: Good! I got your stuff fixed and ready to go on my desk.
1: I can be there in 15 minutes!
FC: I'll turn around, see you in 15.
Captain Bob is a four stripe left seat pilot for Delta on the triple. We love talking airplanes and guns. He's had me tune up an old 220 he wants to use at a class he's taking at FLETC later this year. Like a good pilot, he believes in a comprehensive pre flight inspection. And since his type rating says B777 and not P220, he wanted someone to make sure he's not taking a dud to class. All I did to it was give it a visual, clean and lube and although it probably didn't need it - it had a 20 year old recoil spring so I installed a new one just as a precaution.
I get back to my desk and get his gun ready, cleared and slide locked back as he walks in the door. He just got home from running a 777LR to Johannesburg and back and is very pleased to see his old 220 ready to roll. I take my glasses off and point out he's got a little bit of slide peening in a few spots but just keep it lubricated and it's normal wear and tear since he does not shoot it much.
He asks me if I have any 300 blackout ammo, I pull a case of 220gr OTM off the shelf. I tell him $450 on the ammo and the pistol inspection and recoil spring is on the house and he's having none of it. Hands me five crisp hundos and tells me to keep it. Just as I'm tucking the cash into my desk drawer, my door opens up and since I'm not wearing my glasses - I see a blurry silhouette of.....is that wonder woman? HUGE TITS on a small frame. I can't tell what's going on.
FC: Hi!
Lady: Hey FC, it's Lisa. I was just getting my wedding dress altered next door and wanted to say hi!
FC: Oh hey! I'm not wearing my glasses so I have no idea what's happening!
Lisa: See you tomorrow!
FC: I'l be there! So anyways Bob, that was strange. I am normally not used to having my door flung open by halfway attractive women.....
Bob: Neither am I! You should see some of the FA's on the J'burg route!
We have a laugh. Some more airplane talk about the old 72's and I tell him about the time I greased it in the box on the A320. Turns out he flew A320's as well as boeings and we revel in the differences in both the airplanes. I really like the Airbus design and their workflow even though Boeing guys love to hate it. He's happy with his 220 and we pull chocks.
I head home, throw a ribeye on the grill and go to bed early. I've got a busy day in the morning.
Saturday morning I wake up at 7AM and look at my to do list. Shit shower and shave. The gun show closes at 5. Lisa's wedding is at 6. The venue is at the lake 39 minutes from the VFW hall. I have a plan. I will leave STRAIGHT to the venue from the gun show and I'll put on dress clothes below the belt. After all, how often do you look at another man's pants? I throw on an HK black NO COMPROMISE Polo shirt untucked with a black alligator belt and Canali navy slacks with my new Allen Edmonds boulevards in black. Socks by Brumell and boxers by Fruit of the Loom. I walk into the VFW hall with a non iron Lauren white spread collar shirt, Ted Baker tie and Canali jacket slung over my shoulder. Nobody notices the pitter patter sound of leather soles on the concrete as the show starts coming to life.
It's 8:55. Lets get this show on the road.
The loudspeaker crackles and lets everyone in the hall know the doors are about to open up and asks us to check all our guns for ammo and zip ties. I get my table ready and pull out my 4473's on clipboards and check my pens. FFL in frame is standing up on the table, everything is tagged and tied. There will be no discharge of firearms at my table as a result.
9AM: Show opens. It's dead. Deader than dead. Like, life support dead. Typically there is a line from the entryway of the hall and around the building to get into the show every time.
This is not the show of years ago. This summer has been atrocious. I talked to the promoter and lots of vendors did not reserve tables for this and the next show. The numbers are way down.
Some people start to trickle in but it's not a good sign.
9:30AM: A fellow walks up and asks me if I have a Sig 226 TACOPS with TB in stock. I don't but vendors do. He drove 2 hours to this show to try and find one since his local place did not have it. They're on contract with sig and refuses to order one from distribution to make him happy and Sig has no idea when they're going to make more out of New Hampshire. Well, thanks to Ron Cohen making 26 SKU's for every single pistol - that's what you get.
9:41AM: Fellow wearing an INFOWARS shirt molests way too much merchandise on my table than I'm comfortable with. I shoot a knowing eye roll to Noah over at the next table. He's a 27 year old jewish gold bullion dealer from Long Island that votes libertarian and laughs at all my jokes. He adjusts his RON PAUL FOR PRESIDENT banner hanging off the edge of his table as I wait for Finger McBangerson here to go away so I can wipe down all my stuff.
10:23AM: Guy walks up to me and he says he's looking for a shotgun for competition. I point him towards the SLP at the end of the table.
10:24AM: Older fellow walks up to me and says he's looking for a gun for his wife as he lifts up a Colt Commander. I tell him that will definitely kill his wife. Guy looking at the SLP cracks up laughing. Older guy looks at me mortified. Then he gets the joke. Asks me about suitability of a steel framed colt commander for her. I say probably not a good first choice. Perhaps you should send her to an NRA basic pistol class.
10:39AM: Guy asks me what's the best I'll do on a Glock 17L. I tell him the tag is already priced more than fair. He asks if he can buy it with cash if he can get a discount. I'm like let me see. I ask him if he's got a state CWL. He says yes. I take off $20. He says it's a deal, hands me a stack of money, current CWL and a California drivers license.
FC: Do you have residency in this state?
1: No, I'm here visiting for work
FC: And you want me to sell you a gun with a California drivers license and no residency?
1: DUDE! KEEP IT DOWN! Do you have any idea what would happen if people found out I didn't live here?
FC: YES I DO! They wouldn't be a party to you breaking the law!
I hand him all his shit back and tell him to get on the next flight to Fresno.
12:01 PM: Lunchtime. I pick up my sammich from Jersey mikes and nobody fails to interrupt me to throw money at me. This is not a very good sign.
12:16 PM: I am scarfing down the last of my sandwich as Infowars shirt guy comes back around. We chat a bit about 1911's and he eventually tries to convince me that I need to buy the water filter that Alex Jones is selling to keep us from turning homosexual. I tell him now I'm not gay, but look at these shoes. I pull my left hock up and put a nice shiny new Allen Edmonds boulevard on the table. He seems to recoil in horror. As he walks away, I tell him he didn't even notice that I had them straight laced! They're fabulous!
Nobody understands my humor.
12:33 PM: The vendor to the left of me is selling clothing offensive to the left. MAGA hats, anti snowflake shirts, ISIS hunting permit graphic tees, etc. I debate calling one of my guys and having "MAKE 45ACP GREAT AGAIN" hats made up. I call up r_shackleford and he thinks this is genius. We trade witty banter back and forth for a few minutes.
12:49 PM: The vendor in front of me is a gigantic pawn shop with 16 tables. There's a woman trying to sell them a rifle, and not succeeding at all. Sam looks over at me and points and says to her "you know, he buys guns too!"
FUCK YOU SAM.
FUCK YOU LONG.
FUCK YOU HARD.
The hambeast approaches and thrusts a rifle in my face. "WE BUILT IT CUSTOM" she says. "I NEED MONEY FOR CHEMO" she says. The barrel says 223 Wylde. The lower says Aero Precision. The price tag says $1500 OBO. I tell her she'd be lucky if she got HALF that in this economy. She complains that they really need the money and her two demon spawn that are traveling with her seem to be tired of her getting the same speech from every vendor in the hall.
NO YOUR GODDAMN HOMEBUILT 223 WYLDE AR15 IS NOT WORTH $1500
It's not even worth $750
It's worth MAYBE the same price as a new PSA rifle - $350, $450 tops if you threw in the little girl.
Editors note (start voice over here): Hi, I'm Matt Damon. Human trafficking is no laughing matter. For just a small donation of $50 or more, you can fight human trafficking. I prefer that you donate to Rapha House International, a charity dedicated to preventing sex trafficking and providing care and treatment to its victims. If you go to the post in the top of guns and donate, you can even stop shitposters like FirearmConcierge from posting stuff like this for the rest of the month if you donate enough money. This sort of support can only be made possible from viewers like you. Please, donate today. Stop the suffering. For the little girls. For reddit. For America.
The lady looks at me like a truck stop rapist and inevitably proclaims that SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE'S GOT. Words fail me. I shake my head as she walks away with her demon spawn and I shoot a look back at sam and mouth very carefully YOU FUCKER back at him. Sam cracks up laughing.
1:12PM: I'm asked if that's a Dead Air Sandman on my table. I say yes. Guy asks to look at it and explains to his friend that it's a DAA Sandman and talks about the mounting system.
FC: You know your stuff.
1: Yeah I just bought one.
FC: I'm the only DAA dealer around here, you don't look familiar. Who'd you get it from?
1: Silencershop. Used the kiosk at a dealer in another city 1.5 hours away
FC: Uh, I stock the sandman and would have made you a deal. Why'd you do go through them if you don't mind my asking?
1: Well it was a timesaver.
FC: How's that? I mean that place I know is an hour and a half away without traffic, so you made a trip there to do your stuff - then back. That's 3 hours. Then another 3 hours after your stamps clear - so that's 6 hours in a car total. I can call the PD, make an appointment for you to roll your prints and you're done in 15 minutes. Photos at CVS are another 15 minutes. How is 6 hours a timesaver instead of 30 minutes?
1: Well I just knew that if I had to make more than one stop I'd never do it, so it was spend 6 hours in a car and get it done in one shot or spend 15 minutes doing fingerprints or photos and being too lazy to do the other one and never sending in the paperwork. So this was the better choice for me.
FC: Uh. Okay?
1: Why don't you have a kiosk?
FC: I'm not paying $9000 for something that's going to save you time and cost me money and then have to deal with being tech support and having a device in my place of business that compresses my own margins. We're down to making $50 on a can from making $350. This isn't a position I'm interested in taking.
1: Well, sucks to be you. I'm buying all my cans from silencershop now!
FC: Enjoy your 6 hour drive.
1:30 PM: Man walks up with an old stainless combat commander colt. Series 70. No original box and sights. Looks well used.
Thinks I’m crazy when I say I won’t give him $1000 on trade.
1:39 PM: Guy comes back. Guy wants me to put a can on his 1917 eddystone that is not threaded. He asks what he can get for $150
1:45 PM: Lady picks up a Trijicon RMR and asks to turn it on. I shove a battery in it and turn it on.
1: This is a laser sight right?
FC: This is an RMR from Trijicon and RMR stands for Ruggedized Miniature Reflex sight - it uses a laser of sorts and projects it onto this lens here....
1: THIS COSTS $500? AND IT DOES NOT EVEN PUT IT ON THE TARGET?
FC: Well if you just look through the lens here you can see the red dot projected onto the glass.....
1: I CAN BUY A $30 LASER POINTER AND DUCT TAPE IT TO MY GUN AND I'D BE $470 CHEAPER AND IT WOULD PUT THE LASER ON THE BAD GUY! WHAT IS THIS GARBAGE YOU'RE TRYING TO SELL?
She walks away. My mouth is agape.
2:15PM: Old guy walks up and points at a Glock 34 I have on the table. MY FRIEND BOUGHT A GLOCK IN 89 WITH NYPD AND SHOT HIMSELF HOLSTERING IT. I DONT TRUST THE DAMN THINGS and shuffles away without me having time for a rebuttal
2:21PM: Someone walks up asking me if I want to buy a used les Baer Comanche. I tell him I buy when I can make money. I look at it. It’s clean.
He wants $1600. Street is about $1600, that's all the money. Street the gun sells for about $1799 NEW, which means I can buy it for less than $1600 new. I tell him this. He looks at me like Elizabeth Warren looks at Brett Kavanaugh and shuffles away. I shake my head as I notice a familiar face walk up. I can't place it. He looks at some guns.
2:25PM: I'm asked if I have a card from the familiar stranger. I reach down into my wallet and fish one out, I hand it to him and he smiles at me. It finally clicks.
FC: Dr Livingstone, I presume.
Doc: I haven't seen you in years, how have you been?
(The doc is FC's old therapist. He can't say hi to me walking around due to HIPAA but if I open a dialogue, it's okay)
FC: Eh, same old shit different day. I uh made some mistakes a few weeks ago and I thought of you.
Doc: Oh really? How so.
FC: Well uh. You remember that day when I told you to go back to the Office of the Bursar at UCLA and ask for a refund on your $125,000 post graduate education because it was nothing but academic detritus?
Doc: Well, I hadn't thought about it for a few years but it sounds like something you would say.
FC: It was right after you told me that I used 3 different quotes from 3 different academics in a span of less than 5 minutes to answer your question. You said that I intellectualize as a defense because I don't like getting close to people. I said you're full of shit. You asked me do I even know what intellectualize means? I said of course I know what it means, what do you think I'm some kind of idiot? Then you sat there grinning like a Cheshire cat at the thought of making me eat my own words.
Doc: Haha. Now, that sounds familiar. I remember that.
FC: Well I don't know how many patients are willing to say it but you were right and I was wrong.
Doc: I don't get much pleasure in hearing that, but did you learn anything about yourself?
FC: It took a few years to realize you may have been right all along but yeah.
Doc: Then what does it matter who's right or wrong as long as you learned something?
FC: Hmm. That's not bad. How's business?
Doc: Full appointment book and not taking new patients.
FC: I guess you could say it's........a little crazy?
Doc: I missed your humor. Tell me about this Glock 45...
I show him a few different guns and crack jokes about disgruntled patients. He says he'll think about arming himself what with crime and mentally unstable people being growth sectors in this post-trump apocalyptic nightmare. I tell him to be fore warned is to be fore armed. He seems reticent, but I can only lead the horse to water. I can't make him drink.
2:51PM: Fellow walks up.
1: I need a colt ladysmith. Do you have one?
FC: the colt or the ladysmith?
1: The colt ladysmith
FC: is it a colt or a smith?
1: smith
FC: which model?
1: the ladysmith!
FC: I know but I need to know what model. They put that on a bunch of different guns
1: it’s the one with writing on the side of the gun. It says. LADY SMITH on it. You know the one
I realize the strongest case for repealing the second amendment is spending a day talking to people at the gun show.
3PM: Two hours left to go! The end is in sight! I haven't sold a single fucking gun yet!
3:02 PM: Man walks up. Hey do you have the new Sig 925?
FC: You mean 365?
1: No the 925
FC: Sig does not make a 925
1: Yes they do, it's the new one.
FC: The 365?
1: No! The 925!
FC: Can you show me a picture?
1: It's the one on the magazine.
FC: Most of sigs guns have magazines.
1: I mean the one in print. It's on the cover.
FC: The cover of the periodical you mean?
1: Yeah! You know the new one!
FC: Well if it's on the cover, it should be easy to find on google. Can you show me a picture?
1: There's nothing coming up on google for the Sig 925
FC: Maybe perhaps its because it's the sig 365?
1: I'm telling you it's not that. It's the new one they just came out with. It's the 925.
FC: Care to make a wager?
1: No.
FC: If you bring me a photo I can try to narrow it down.
1: I'll find the magazine at home and bring it in tomorrow.
FC: Periodical.
1: Whatever.
3:11: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUFSB2plwzM
3:12: Numismatist neighbor Noah asks me a question
Noah: Hey! What's a hi point?
FC: A cry for help!
(everyone laughs)
Noah: No I mean price wise?
FC: Like $100, they're garbage guns.
Me and Noah start talking. I am moving more and more libertarian every day. He's the treasurer of his local LP chapter in Suffolk county. For a jewish kid from Riverhead, we sure have a lot in common. We get into an animated debate on the virtues of Kelo v New London in that it was a shitty position for the town of New London to take Susette Kelo's house for redevelopment under eminent domain. If they wanted to redevelop it, for the government to use eminent domain is a government run amok. As a libertarian, he hates government overreaching - as someone who also hates that sort of thing, we are in very vocal agreeance.
The tshirt vendor is listening to us debate the merits of the case and how the SCOTUS created a TERRIBLE precedent regarding government using the takings clause and when we finish he asks us a question.
TShirtGuy: How the fuck do you two know so much about a supreme court case?
Noah: Well, when you went to college and you're an economics and pre law major....
FC: Let me make it simple. WE ARE NERDS!
Everyone has a laugh.
TShirtGuy: Speaking of funny, check this out! He holds up a shirt.
It says in big print on the front: the the reason gun shows exist is so women can know what it’s like for when they drag men to the mall
I chuckle.
3:13 PM: I get in an argument with the republican candidate for office of something or other on gun laws. He is stupid and he is going to lose.
3:23 PM: A nice lady walks up. She looks familiar. She looks at some guns and feels up a 226 and remarks how well she likes how it handles.
FC: You're Bernice, aren't you?
Bernice: Why yes I am! You do not look familiar. How do I know you?
FC: You're still working at the courthouse right?
Bernice: That's right!
FC: Judge Snyder, right?
Bernice: No! He moved up to the appellate circuit last month it's...
FC: Judge Reinhold! That's right, one of his JA's called me to buy a gun last month. I forgot Christine told me, you're right.
Bernice: Holy crap, you have an incredible memory. When was the last time you were in front of Judge Snyder?
FC: Four years ago. I was the one that filed the motion citing the big lebowski.
Bernice: OH MY GOD THAT WAS YOU? I remember that!
FC: Yeah and I had to go dumpster diving to get my phone back. Shit, was that really 4 years ago? Fuck.
We talk more about guns and stuff. She loves her old West German 226. I tell her that if she really wants to have some fun, she should ask Judge Snyder to tag along on his next range day. About two years ago, the judge called me up asking for some advice. He's Tet offensive era USMC and wanted a new toy to reach out and touch someone and was dead set on getting a new SR25.
I talked him out of it because SR25's are stupid expensive. I knew of another dealer that had a T&E 20" SR25 that they were looking to unload cheap and I told him that with the amount of money he'd save going to the T&E gun versus the new one - the delta would more than cover a Nightforce NXS, rings and mounting and that would save him money and be a good performer. I'm friends with his daughter on facebook and they both looked like they had a lot of fun ringing the gong at the gun club.
Bernice is impressed. Too bad she's not my type, we'd get along fantastically if I was 15 years older.
4 PM: 60 minutes left to this shit show.
4:04PM: The loudspeaker crackles. ATTENTION ATTENTION: BRETT KAVANAUGH HAS JUST BEEN CONFIRMED TO THE SUPREME COURT.
The proletariat rejoices and hooting and hollering typically reserved for the LSU game breaks out in the hall.
ALSO WILL THE RED JEEP PARKED IN THE FIRE LANE PLEASE MOVE - YOU ARE BLOCKING THE BBQ GUY FROM LEAVING. RED JEEP. MOVE OR YOU WILL BE TOWED.
4:11 PM: Guy walks up in civvies.
1: I wanna buy this but I’m not a state resident
FC: well what’s your deal? Give me some more to work with.
1: I’m from Texas but I’m in the military
FC: if you got your orders - PCS to any base in this state says you’re a state resident, but if you don't - I can't help you. I know a lot of guys don't travel around with their orders....
JUST AS I SAY THAT the guy pulls out a wad of hundreds out of his pocket and his PCS paperwork, signed, rubber stamped and billeted.
THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.
I give him the clipboard as I look at his paperwork. No blank spaces, approved change of station to Barksdale AFB, address reads base housing, everything is in order for the young airman.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT. THIS IS AMAZING.
Forms done correct on the first swing.
I AM WAITING FOR THE OTHER SHOE TO DROP.
I call in the transaction and they tell me that the national system is down. NO IDEA WHEN IT'S GOING TO BE BACK UP.
I tell the USAF that the system is down and we can't do anything. He takes my card and hands me money and says just call him when it's ready to be picked up. Huh. Okay, he's cool with that. His girlfriend lives over here so he's back here every weekend. Done! I mark up the paperwork with some notes.
4:23 PM: One guy just walked up and told me that he had no idea HK made rifles. Apparently made a bunch of rifles a few years ago and stamped glocks name on them for Glock. Since Glock can't be found out to be making rifles. This captures the attention of another guy who asks me if my Glocks on the table have fluted firing pins. I tell him they do not make fluted firing pins. That makes no sense. He says yes they do make sense. They're fluted so they shoot underwater.
4:28 PM: Noah's table has someone in front of it debating buying some gold. As they delve into the discussion of gold and FIAT currency, I hear the following.
1: Bitcoin is a webpage. It’s like buying stock. Bitcoin issues shares and it dilutes so the price goes down.
Noah: I don't think that's how it works.
1: You’re basically buying a part of a big webpage
FC: This is like listening to someone try to explain that pi is exactly 3.
Noah: What's wrong with you?
FC: I am the Anthony Bourdain of the gun world. I eat, I drink and I yell at idiots.
4:45 PM It's getting close to show close, I need to get ready for the wedding. I grab my Lauren shirt that thankfully is non iron and just dressy enough to work and just casual enough to be worn without a tie if you need to and whip off my HK polo. I put on the shirt and tuck it in as I notice a lovely couple walk up out of the corner of my eye. Its Jim and Jane, Jane is a pharmacist that works at the hospital and Jim is a Gastroenterology resident at the hospital too. They buy lots of guns from me. I finish tucking in my shirt as we talk shop.
Jim wants 6 cans, 3 handgun and 3 rifle and wants to know what his options are. I rattle off all the options I would look at and I write some down on a legal pad for Jane to show him on the computer when he gets home. We talk 762 vs 556, 45 vs 9mm and direct thread vs QD for about 10 minutes as I tie off my blue Ted Baker tie into a Pratt knot. The apex of the tie just touches my belt buckle. Length is right on the money, and I didn't even have a mirror. Jane approves of my knot and color selection. Go me.
4:55 PM: Fabulousness achieved, I call back in and find out national system is still down. FUCK. Well this is gonna have to wait till tomorrow. I shove Airman Cecil O'Malley's paperwork under the table and start stowing stuff since the show is about to close.
4:59 PM: Table is covered up and FC is walking out the door as the announcement crackles over the loudspeaker. THE SHOW IS CLOSED. PLEASE LEAVE THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR.
5:01 PM: On the way to the wedding! I stop at Target along the way because I've forgotten to get a card. I find one that says "It was meant to brie" on the front. It has some greeting card herpes, aka glitter on it but I have no time to be picky. As I'm in line to checkout I write something cheeky.
"I always said love was cheesy and I camembert it sometimes.....Love, FC"
The cashier scans it, I plug my amex into the card reader as I slip in a yard in there and seal up the envelope and slide it into my jacket pocket.
The ride to the lake breaks every speed limit in two counties.
5:45PM: I arrive 15 minutes before the ceremony is about to begin and the parking staff puts me in the back lot. I hike over to the open bar and get a fresca. I'm supposed to behave myself, so FC quit drinking and is just chilling with a fresca as he scans the room.
I know NOBODY at this wedding except the bride, groom and MAYBE the bride's massage therapist. Nope. I know nobody here. Awwwkward. I behave myself and sip on a fresca as the wedding starts. She gets married. She says yes. He says yes. FC is an ordained minister and can step up and marry someone in case there's an emergency but my services will not be needed at this wedding because things are going smoother than a cold filtered miller genuine draft. It's all good. The DJ announces the new couple and they walk down the aisle together as husband and wife for the first time. The music starts playing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNEgUPKxk7A
ITS HEAVY D AND THE BOYZ! I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO GO TO A WEDDING WHERE THEY PLAY THE COUPLE OFF TO HEAVY D! I mention this to the people sitting next to me and they're like it's just like hitch!
I'm like what?
They go on to explain to me that it's a movie. Starring Will Smith. Huh. Didn't see that one.
5:45 PM: The open bar and the food is coming out. I look around and I definitely do not know ANYBODY HERE. I need to eat and go home. I grab a plate of cocktail shrimp and some lobster sliders and sit down at a picnic table away from the crowd. I don't even notice a busty brunette with cleavage showing also sitting at the table staring at her phone across from me until she says hi.
1: Hi.
FC: Hi.
(I scarf down a lobster slider. Munch munch)
1: So how do you know the lovely couple?
FC: Well she was a friend of a friend and next thing you know I'm showing up to the Christmas party and the wedding. Then Seth is showing up and then they're getting married. You?
1: I work with Lisa, I'm a flight attendant. But I've been out of work for a few months. We had this thing at work. It's called a fume event. I happens when well uh how do I say?
FC: Contaminated bleed air via the pneumatic air conditioning kit - or PACK - gets into the cabin, causing all sorts of respiratory irritation and all sorts of other things for the crew. You're on the 320, right?
1: The airbus? Yeah. Me and Lise are also on the....
FC: 321 and the 319. Yeah, I'm familiar with the technology.
1: You're a pilot.
FC: Not exactly. I just know airplanes really well.
1: So you're an aerospace engineer.
FC: I wouldn't go that far. Hahaha. That's stretching it. A lot.
1: Let me get this right. You're friends with Lisa and Seth, you know airplanes, you're the only one at this wedding actually wearing a suit......
FC: To be fair, it's Louisiana in October. We're lucky most of the folks here aren't wearing Mossy Oak and Realtree.
1: Hahahahahhah! You must live in Baton Rouge!
FC: I do.
1: Me too! What part of the city? I live in (names neighborhood)
FC: I'm over in (neighborhood next to her)
1: OH MY GOD! That's 10 minutes from my house! So anyways, you're smart, you're funny, where have you been all my life? I'm Ally.
FC: I'm Will.
1: You wanna get dinner together? I literally do not know anyone else here and I was thinking about leaving before I met you.
FC: Uh sure. Lemme just top this fresca off.
1: I'll join you.
6:15 We're told by the bartenders to grab a ceremonial wedding tervis tumbler with a patch commemorating the happy couple's nuptials hermetically sealed inside. They didn't want a bunch of red solo cups going to the dumpster so they decided to ball out. I walk up to the table where there's literally 200 tumblers in varying colors to choose from and I grab a random one as Ally grabs one too. We head to the bar, she fills her with vodka and sprite. I top off with ginger ale because I'm staying sober and I have to drive 45 minutes back to casa de FC in BTR.
She asks me how I know so much about airplanes, I tell her it's been a lifelong obsession and I've done some ground school on the 320 and the 737 and I much prefer the 320. I ask her what's tough about her job and she tells me that most people don't know they only get paid when the doors close. I say yeah, block time is a real bitch sometimes. She looks at me like I'm crazy. I'm like what? She's like HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT BLOCK TIME? I told you, I know airplanes. We chat some more as the crowd gets drunker and drunker and more ridiculous on the dance floor. Someone requested Strokin' by Clarence Carter and the DJ ACTUALLY PLAYED IT. Goddamnit Lisa! HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A DO NOT PLAY LIST? Wow.
7:10 PM We find some seats for dinner as the buffet opens up, I pile a bunch of chicken marsala and beef wellington on my plate and we head back to the table. She's only a few years older than me and cannot believe that I am single. She asks if I've tried tinder. I tell her the tinder story about me being stuffed into the back of a police car and it is met with raucous laughter.
1: So, do you dance?
FC: I do a lot of things, but I don't dance. Baton Rouge is the city that rhythm forgot.
1: I don't really dance either. As a matter of fact, I'm perfectly content to people watch all night with you here by my side.
Her hand ran down to touch mine. It had a ring on it.
FC: What does your husband think about that?
Next thing I know, Lisa and Seth have dropped by the table to say hello. They're taking pictures with everyone and we can't continue the conversation we were just having. Lisa dives in to hug Ally, Seth gives me a handshake, sips my drink and asks why there isn't any bourbon in that tumbler.
FC: Gotta behave myself. Long drive back home.
Ally: OH MY GOD LISA! Will is FANTASTIC! Where have you been keeping him? He's funny, he's amazing and he looks hot in a suit! If I wasn't married, he'd be the perfect guy!
(We're cut off by Lisa, she looks at me sternly.)
Lisa: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?
FC: What?
Lisa: Yesterday! When I was getting my wedding dress fitted! You called me a half attractive woman.....
FC: It's not a normal occurrence! Most of the women who open my door are total heifers! For real! Take the compliment!
Lisa cracks up, and Seth who has had a few drinks laughs so hard that he damn near falls over. You can hear the cackle of his laugh carry across the lake. The best man props him back up and they all have a laugh. The wedding planner slides in and tells the bride that her cake has been outside of refrigeration for an hour and 15 minutes now and is structurally deficient. They need to cut it now before it collapses in upon itself like a black hole. Lisa grabs Ally, Seth grabs me and the rest of the table follows. We're now part of the wedding cake cutting crew.
7:15 PM: The entourage all takes their Instagram positions as Lisa cuts into her structurally deficient cake and Seth resists the urge to do anything cheeky and fun with frosting. It's cute, everyone toasts the newlyweds.
7:20 PM: I pull Lisa aside privately and I ask her - what the fuck is Ally's deal? "If I wasn't married he'd be the perfect guy?" WHO THE FUCK SAYS THAT? A married woman? At a wedding? To a guy she JUST MET?
Lisa: Look, I have no idea how her marriage is going or what her deal is. But just because there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't score.
FC: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
Lisa: It means that maybe, if she's throwing herself at you......you should catch her. I gotta go throw the bouquet. Brb.
FC: .....
7:25 Lisa goes to throw her bouquet and Ally has found me and is back at my side.
1: Where were we? I was just saying to Lisa that I was wondering where a guy like you has been all my life? You are awesome.
FC: I am awesome, and you are married.
1: Yeah, I know. Come on, I really want you......I mean I really want you......to go photobooth with me. Come on, it'll be fun.
She grabs my arm and drags me to the photobooth and she puts ridiculous hats and stuff on me. I'm like no, I've been looking ridiculous enough from birth. i'm good. She literally begs me with puppy dog eyes and does that thing where she shows cleavage.
FC: Isn't this like against one of the ten commandments? Thou shalt not......photobooth with another man's wife?
1: Hmm. Yeah, I guess. You're really sweet though. If I was single, I'd be all over you right now.
FC: Who says that? Really?
1: So, answer me this. You're not an engineer. You're not a pilot. What do you do?
FC: Gun dealer.
1: So if I had something like an AR15 that needed some work, you'd be the guy to call?
FC: Maybe, depending on what you needed - there's a lot of things where I'll just tell you flat out what you're trying to do is uneconomical and a bad idea.
1: Well, I'd really like it if you could check out some of my equipment sometime.
FC, internal monologue: WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE
FC, external monologue: Bring it by the gun show this weekend and I'll see what I can do.
I crack an uneasy smile as she gets up to go use the bathroom. I decide it's time to get the fuck out of here.
8:11 Making my escape plan proves to be a little tougher than I expected. The parking at the venue at the lake is dark and unlit and I have to navigate my way back to my car in the dark using the light from my phone. I reach into my jacket and I realize that their card is still inside. Fuck. I gotta go back. I turn around and head back to the gift table and I use some ninja recon skills I picked up in catholic school to make sure Ally is nowhere nearby. The coast is clear. I walk up to the little birdcage they have for cards, drop mine in confidently and get ready to turn on my heel and leave. I start making my way back to the parking lot when Seth is just walking out of the bathroom next to the gift table.
1: Hey man, you heading home?
FC: I am now, forgot to drop off your card.
1: Ally thought you left without saying goodbye to her, so she asked me for your number. I gave it to her.
FC: Oh dear lord.
1: What?
FC: Did you hear that woman? "If I was single, you'd be the perfect guy!" Those words are not in a vocabulary of any married woman I know.
1: Dude, you just gotta chill out and go with the flow man. It's not your marriage. If she wants a piece of you, cut her off a slice.
FC: Are you serious?
1: When I met Lisa, she was still married to Freddie. Look at us now, 7 years later and we're happy. You want to be happy, don't you?
FC: Yeah but....
1: No but's! Go storm the castle! I gotta go, but I'll catch you at the afterparty tomorrow night! You going?
FC: Yeah at your house right?
1: Yeah, what time the gun show wrap up?
FC: 4, so I'll be out by 5.
1: I got steaks going on the grill at 3, I'll get save a nice one for you. You still a medium rare guy?
FC: You know it!
1: I think Ally is gonna be there too, you two should get to know each other a little better.
FC: That's what I'm afraid of!
Seth goes back to his wedding, I hop in the car and drive home. It's almost 10PM as I approach the Jersey mikes by my house. I stop in to grab a sandwich for Sunday.
Just as I walk up I hear one of the sandiwch makers swear she's going to slit the throat of the next person who orders a sandwich. Eep. I tell her I need a giant 9. She starts making me one. I ask her if she's trying to get out of here right at 10? She says yeah, she's trying to catch the end of the Yankees/Red Sox game. I tell her my old man was from Brighton and my mom was from Elmhurst, so there's no love lost there. We have a laugh. She caught the Yankees pummeling the A's in the wild card on Wednesday. I whip out my phone and check the score for her. Yankees are up 6-2. I tell her she should be able to catch the end of it at home or whatever sports bar she's going to. She tells me she's going to the outback steakhouse the next block over to watch it and they better have the game on when she rolls up in 15. I tell her I'll do her one better. I dated the bartender there (once, she friendzoned me) and I'll message her on facebook to have it on for you. It is at this moment, I am asked for the second time that evening - from a strange woman I've just met - where have I been all her life?
I head home, throw my sandwich in the fridge and head to bed wondering WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?
Did FC like get game all of a sudden?
Donald Trump is President.
The Eagles won the super bowl.
You can't make this shit up.
I got one more day at the gun show too.
Postscript: As I write this, it's Columbus day and the Indians, the Redskins and Braves all got their asses handed to them.
We truly live in interesting times.
submitted by FirearmConcierge to guns [link] [comments]


2018.10.08 02:36 ASavageLost My last week or so in New Orleans before Carlos took me back to Taos I continued to maintain my opioid addiction with crumbs of suboxone and talked to people who weren’t there from the meth I was shooting.

New Orleans
2008- 2009
I had a room in an apartment on Octavia and Fountainbleau. I kept it pitch black all day and night. My bare mattress sat against the wall. A heavy comforter hung from the curtain rods, and in the corner a reading lamp sat on top of an unplugged TV. It was the only light in the room, and it focused on the only things that mattered to me: a spoon, a syringe, a lighter and some empty baggies. Cigarettes and hot spoons had melted the black plastic top while I dug around in my forearm searching for a vein. Sometimes I sprayed the bloody water on the walls.
My room matched my head, rotting trash strewn everywhere, curtains stained with bodily fluids, stink and neglect. It was full of a black sickness and wherever I went, I painted everything the same color. Things could be going well, but it would not be long till I turned my life into a mushroom cloud and everything around me into rubble. Once again, those who loved me would be left to shield their eyes from the shockwave of brains and shrapnel that would otherwise hit them in the face.
I loved to make a mess.
I struggled to order my food in English at the airport in Houston, partly because I had been living in Peru for so long and partly because of the Xanax I took before the flight. My family stayed positive about my arrival in light of the fact that I barely escaped El Callao with my life and in spite of the fact that things looked to be much as they always were. Timothy came with my father to pick me up from the airport to get some shots for the movie which they were still doing although spottily. I slurred my words.
My mother invited Turkey and the rest of the family and friends to see me at the house after my 18 months in a foreign country and longer than that exiled from home by addiction and being categorically uncivilized. My dad bragged about me to his friend in the pool one night.
“Hey, Derrick! Riley was a street fighter in the ghetto down in Peru.” That was an exaggeration, but I had been in a lot of fights.
He always looked for the positive side of things, which was remarkable because he had had someone looking for my dead body in the morgues of Lima a month before. As far as he and his friend were concerned I was the kind of person they only read about in books. He admired the way I rejected societal pretenses and anything I couldn’t justify as having substance, but his heart broke when he saw me living like a slave to chemicals.
“You don’t give into anything! I look at you and see a resolve I wish I had. It’s like where does that even come from? Then you turn around and give your life to pay for your drug dealer’s Cadillac. It doesn’t make any sense, Riley. Can’t you see it?”
I was smoking crack and shooting heroin within two weeks of being back home and couldn’t eat Thanksgiving turkey from doing meth. There were times when my mom would send me to the store to buy three packs of cigarettes with a 20-dollar bill, but I wouldn’t come back for an hour and a half, without cigarettes, without money and without a reason why. One night my dad caught me crawling across his bedroom floor to get his wallet out of his jeans, and I put a hole in the kitchen drywall when he screamed at me. A week or so after that, he got mad at me while I was still in bed, so when I got up I shattered a 3x6 glass table top and smashed one of his cherished reel-to-reel players. Carlos met me in the park that morning, and after a half-hour my mom showed up to say that she was done being taken hostage in her own home. I told her that I hoped she died and called her a b*tch and flung an extinguished cigarette butt at her face.
My mom paid a friend from grammar school $450 to rent the back half of his apartment on Octavia and Fountainbleau. She wanted to get me out of the house if nothing else, and my roommate was on an indefinite suspension from his career as a local police officer after flashing his badge and beating up a pizza cook when he was drunk one night. My roommate always bought two bags for $100 but I got three for $120. He snorted his and looked down on me for shooting mine. On several occasions, something they used to cut the dope gave me an allergic reaction and caused my hand and arm to swell like a balloon with hives. I asked my dad if he had any ideas about what might cause my arm to swell like that, but it only made him look worried.
I figure this is good a time as any to tell you about my parents, where they’re from, how they met and what life was like for us in the city of New Orleans. Not only will this give you some important insight into the lives of two major players in this horror show, it will be a nice break from these gross displays of selfish brutality toward people who loved me. I imagine reading this can be hard for someone who’s never been there. It’s hard for me to write, sometimes.
My mother was Miss Catholic High growing up in Baton Rouge. She went to St. Joseph’s Academy, which is the sister school to Catholic High, where my father went. They didn’t know each other, and it would be years before they finally met in New Orleans at his cousin’s apartment. My mother had a hard life growing up. Her father drank. Her mother spanked. She learned to take care of herself early on and carried that into our family. There is no one who ever taught me to believe in myself the way she did.
My father was a Chapman by name, an American by birth and a veterinarian by trade, and he became a father at my birth. We have a mixed heritage a bit Irish, Scottish and English, marked by fiery tempers. No one can get angry like a Chapman. Many have said so.
My father went to visit his dying first cousin a few years ago, one of two sisters who were deformed from birth. He told my sisters and me about them a few times in my life. My uncle and grandmother mentioned them a time or two, in passing. I never saw them and never thought about it much, probably in part because my father never really seemed too concerned with it. His life continued with us and my mom and work and the bills and making memories to last him the rest of his life. He was successful. In spite of struggles, he came out okay, but the night he went to visit his cousin on her deathbed and his aunt with all her mental faculties sharp as ever, he broke down. I wasn't there, but my mom told me he had to run out of the room, because he was so openly and uncontrollably sobbing. He and I never have talked about it. I never asked why, but I have my doubts that he could even give a real answer to the question. That's my guess, because I’m subject to similar episodes.
Maybe he wondered why her and not him. They were about the same age, but here he was coming to visit. He came to get a half-hour glimpse into the life of his cousin who'd never experienced the things she should have. She was about to die. She had no kids, no husband, never made love. That was her life, and it was ending in that room. It's not fair. It's just the way things go, and it can be enough to make a grown man cry.
As I grew up, he spent the night drinking with my mother, dancing in the clubs or with friends at the house. We had babysitters a lot. They loved to party and entertain the local musicians, but sometimes drinking turned into arguing. Arguing turned into things I wish never happened. I cannot adequately describe how much I love my parents. No one is responsible for my actions except me. But I will say this: while alcohol is a loved thing for so many, it never caused anything but problems in my household growing up.
Life on heroin continued for me in New Orleans. My father made a deal with me on a Monday morning behind the clinic. He would give me $50 a day to stay well until I could get enrolled in a methadone program. I should have checked into it that day, but I got high and slept. On Tuesday morning, I didn’t go see him about the 50 bucks. Instead I broke into my parents’ house and stole a big box TV and some jewelry, which the pawn shop wouldn’t take. I would have to try for another 50 bucks from him.
“You said you were going to find out what you needed to do to enroll in the program if I gave you that money! Now you want more?” His bottom teeth stuck out of his mouth, and there was a V-shaped crease in his forehead. Nothing expressed disappointment the way his green eyes could.
“I know. I’m really sick.” I sat in the Land Cruiser and clutched my stomach with the window rolled halfway down.
“I don’t think I can help you today. Sorry!”
“Well, then, go get me a bottle of the pink sh*t!” I slammed my elbow through the driver side window and cut the wheel all the way to the right. I ripped my foot off the clutch and slammed onto the gas to spin backward. He rolled behind a parked car to protect himself. The pink stuff was his euthanasia solution for putting animals down.
I spun circles backward in the gravel parking lot for a while and jerked the vehicle to a halt and screamed at him through the broken glass saying that I would drive into the Mississippi River and kill myself that way. He was on the phone calling 911 as he followed me down to the river behind the levee by the clinic and back over it again. When the cops showed up I cooperated. They used soft restraints, because my hands and arms were bloody and swollen from thrashing around in the vehicle. The 911 call can be found on YouTube with a search for “A Crooked Line,” under the user TungstenMonkey. First, you’ll hear my father talking to the operator, and then you’ll see footage of me getting arrested on the side of his clinic. I don’t remember it but according to Timothy I had called him out to the clinic to meet me and when he showed up the cops and ambulance were detaining me, so he filmed it.
My mom and dad found the stuff I had stolen in the back of the Land Cruiser but did not press charges. The hospital sewed me up and required me to spend the night on the psyche ward of Ochsner Hospital. There was nothing they could do for me. They let me go in the morning.
Somewhere I found a maroon turtleneck and wore it everywhere I went. My beard had grown bushy and red. My hair curled and sat thick on top of my head. My belly pushed the fabric of the turtleneck into grease and cigarette ashes and made it protrude so that cola and cereal fell on it when I ate on my bed at night. I looked like Zac Galifianakis in that stained turtleneck.
Timothy came over to film, so there was some footage of me at the apartment talking about how I didn’t get high anymore, “just well,” but I am nodding out in the shot and scratching my nose wearing the turtleneck. I tried to fold my clothes on the bed but instead I leaned over them half asleep and rolled them up into wrinkly balls, before putting them into my suitcase. It was the most absurd thing you’ve ever seen. I said,
“Well I’m a piece of sh*t, so I hope nobody is too disappointed about that. I’m a sorry piece of sh*t.”
I worked as a valet at one of the hotels on St. Charles and went to work that next Saturday night as usual. If I made enough money in tips while I was working, I would take off with one of the customers’ cars to score in the ghetto, but that night was not good for me. My mom’s mom, Grand Mary, let me stay at her apartment 10 blocks away, because I didn’t have the Land Cruiser to drive back to my place.
In the morning I woke up with my legs on the wall, and when she came to take the sheets off the couch, she asked me if I wet the bed.
“No.”
“Then why is the sheet so wet?”
“I’m sweating.”
“Why are you sweating?” She reached out to touch the moisture on my forehead.
“I’m sick.”
“Why are you sick?”
“Um . . . I’m sick for heroin.”
“You’re on heroin?”
“Yeah. I’m on heroin. I’m sick.”
“Why did you get on heroin again?”
“I don’t really have a good answer for that, but I get sick, so I can’t really stop.”
“Well, what are you going to do about that? Isn’t there something you can do?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to be getting on methadone Tuesday morning.”
“Why wait till Tuesday?”
“That’s when they take people into the program.”
“Hmm. Well, how are you going to work?”
“I don’t know. I can’t get anything without money.”
“How much money do you need?”
“Bags go for 50.”
My grandmother went to get her wallet and took me in her Camry to the Conoco on Willow before she took me to work. I was so high at work that I almost got fired.
More and more the place on Octavia fell apart, even though I had started the methadone program. Dried out chunks of a once stringy slime and mold grew on the dishes piled high in the sink. There were two vases of dead brown flowers on the kitchen counter. Half of a plastic grocery bag had melted to the stove top coils. I lost my key one day and smashed through the front door window. Broken glass sat scattered on the floor until I moved out, and the toilet had clogged weeks before I left. I kept using it anyway, and waste mounded out and above the rim. The TV sat on a table in the hallway and blocked anyone from getting into my room without some serious maneuvering. I used a broom to change the channels from bed, and since there was nothing for me in town and no one who wanted me around I talked Carlos into letting me move back to Taos with him in a few months. I’m not sure if he ever actually agreed to it, but that was the plan.
After being on methadone for a couple of months I wanted to wean down for the move back to Taos, because I didn’t know where the closest clinic would be or how I would get there. There was a counselor assigned to my treatment program at the clinic, and he looked terrified to see me at his door asking for counseling. His button down shirt didn’t fit right. He had a bowl-cut haircut and a chipped tooth. It was clear that he had no business being an adult, but here he was responsible for helping me get off some seriously addictive chemicals.
“Do you think we could lower my dose, maybe 10 milligrams a week, so I can get off the methadone?” He looked like a first-grader without his homework and squirmed in his seat. He stared at his lap and shuffled the papers on his desk around. “Um, why don’t you let me make a call?”
He used three fingers to push multiple buttons at a time and struggled to hold his half of the alleged conversation. I wondered if he was a real man or three Little Rascals on each other’s shoulders pretending to be a grown-up. He seemed lumpy enough. I expected the beeping that lets you know the phone is off the hook would be coming over the line any minute. I walked out.
My parents helped me get some suboxone from a dealer. I took my last dose of methadone on a Monday morning and let half of the orange stop sign-shaped suboxone dissolve under my tongue the next morning. A wave of queasiness rolled up from the soles of my feet. Another wave rolled down from my goose-bumped scalp and the two met in my abdomen. My stomach quivered. I became a soggy burrito under my covers. Calf muscles burned like I had the flu. Sleep came in five-minute increments of fevered terror. There was an invisible piece of hair in my throat, and I let another piece of suboxone dissolve under my tongue. Nothing changed. For three days I experienced precipitated withdrawal, which is when a full agonist, such as heroin, is displaced from opioid receptors by an antagonist, such as naloxone (Narcan). In other words, if you don’t wait long enough to take suboxone after your last dose of any other opiate, you experience full-blown withdrawal, immediately and for several days. There was nothing I could do about it.
While I waited to go back to Taos I had to move back into my parents’ house for a month after the landlords evicted us from Octavia and Fountainbleau. One morning, I noticed my dad’s hair was gray. He looked tired. The passing years and his only son had aged him. I had not slept in a day or two, but I could clearly see the price of my selfishness that day. Quiet, he walked through the kitchen. The lines in his face and straight lips said it all. He cast his eyes down, and he stooped. I was killing him.
The sight of it hit somewhere inside of me I didn’t know existed. I got a momentary glimpse of the pain he lived with, and it was more than I could take. For a few hours every time I looked at him I busted up into tears and had to run outside in fits of uncontrollable sobbing. He was wounded by my self-destruction. I had always wanted to hurt him for whatever it was I held against him, but now I didn’t know how to turn it off. It would not stop, because inflicting pain was second nature and came without thinking. We were stuck with it, and I cried my eyes out.
He didn’t say much, and I don’t know if he understood what was happening. Sometimes drug addicts cry for no reason, and I had not been sleeping. My moods were unstable especially around him, or at least he always noticed the instability. I weep now, when I remember what he looked like that day. Stuck with a reality he hated. He chose to suffer quietly while his guts twisted, and his son chased an early death.
My last week or so in New Orleans before Carlos took me back to Taos I continued to maintain my opioid addiction with crumbs of suboxone and talked to people who weren’t there from the meth I was shooting. On the last day there, Carlos and I were loading up his truck to head to Taos where I would start again. I told my dad my new idea for a book.
“You know, Poppa? There is a lot of beauty in being buried under the shale in a nameless grave on the side of the mountain, so the pigs can eat you.” I was sincere and enthused. We both liked to read a guy named B. Traven, a Marxist writer down in Mexico from the earlier part of the 20th century. He had written of his desire to be buried like that for the pigs, a truly socialist sentiment. “I’m going to call it, ‘Bury Me in Taos.’”
“Why would you say something like that, Riley?”
My dad didn’t think my idea for a book was so beautiful, but he was happy to see me go with Carlos. To his dismay, Carlos and I came back to the house a few hours later. I locked myself up in my sister’s room and dug around in my arm with a horse needle until blood covered me. My dad knocked and almost busted down the door before I let him in. Downstairs in the kitchen my mom fried catfish for my uncle and aunt and Carlos; I freaked out on my dad.
“This is why you can’t be around, Riley. No matter what you are always upset about something. The way I look at you and everything else!”
Carlos and I took off shortly after and made it to Lake Charles before we stopped to sleep at a Motel 6. I wish I could say my behavior reassured Carlos about my coming with him, but I kept talking to translucent figures in the dark of the room and looking through the window. When we woke up it was miserably hot and bright, and the anxiety over the carnage I left New Orleans sat in my stomach like hot chunks of lead, until we got to Taos.
submitted by ASavageLost to Drugs [link] [comments]


2018.03.17 17:30 Lord_Harcourt Clownicide

Life can be hard when you're the lowest-rated clown in southeastern Louisiana, but everything changed the summer someone started killing my competition. When I saw the news about the first grisly murder, I could hardly believe my luck. I thought it could be my big break. There were only a few professional clowns working the area, but now that Klutzo the Clown was out of the ring, there'd be a power vacuum. It was an opportunity I desperately needed.
Clowning is my life. From when I was just a kid watching clown tapes my uncle Todd used to get for me, it's all I've wanted to do. I've been a professional clown for 23 years now. No one believes me when I say I'm an introvert but the moment I step into those big red shoes, I'm transformed from fat, depressing Peter Schmidt into fun, hilarious "Poopsie the Clown." Most of my gigs are kid's parties on weekends, but I also do carnivals and rodeos. The work is never steady, so I bartend and wait tables on the side, but lots of clowns have extra jobs. Making kids laugh is why I do what I do. In that moment, even I forget to be sad.
But kids never stay young for long. These days, they outgrow stuff at younger and younger ages every year. Also, people just don't like clowns like they used to. I know some great clowns who've relocated or changed careers, but I don't give up so easy.
I used to be a better clown. I peaked back in '05. After Hurricane Katrina, a bunch of us clowns organized a group called "Clowning for a Cause" to perform as volunteers for kids in the hurricane shelters. People loved it, and as an organizer, I even got interviewed on Fox News! That got me gigs for years. But eventually, those kids grew up and my booking schedule collapsed again. Like everything else in my life, it was just waiting for another disaster to light it up.
If I didn't have clowning, I'd have nothing. It's all I'm good at. Plus, I wouldn't move because if few enough people like me here in Baton Rouge, why would I do better somewhere else? I'm a fuck-up who can barely even book birthdays, and those happen every year! But everything went bonkers when the killing began.
The first two murders were in August and October. Klutzo the Clown got clubbed to death with his own unicycle, and Dopey Shmopey had so many magic hankies shoved down his throat that when they were pulling them all out they stopped changing colors and stayed red. Both had also been shot, but it wasn't clear if it was before or after they died. All of this was really terrible and awful, but on the bright side, I landed Dopey Shmopey's old gig as Tuesday night host at the Laughy Sack and replaced Klutzo the Clown at a dozen kids' parties. When I saw their obituaries on ClownJobs.com, I saw the opportunity and pounced. It's probably what they would've wanted.
Over the next year, things were almost as terrific as after Katrina, but stuff hit the fan when even more murders came the next summer. That was the summer the kids stopped laughing. After a clown car pileup left several clowns flatter than a used whoopee cushion, the news media connected the big fluffy red dots that there was a clown-killing maniac on the loose, and everyone went crazy. At first, people assumed that the "Louisiana Clown Killer" was also a clown. TV news was a circus of bozos with fancy degrees comparing the "psychological profile of a typical clown" to John Wayne Gacy and so-called journalists spreading silly theories about "clown-on-clown violence" (which isn't real). It didn't matter that police already spoke with every clown in the area and cleared all of us of any suspicion; suddenly, parents didn't want their children near clowns anymore. Clowns across the country suffered from the bad publicity, but Louisiana got hit the worst.
Soon, I stopped getting any more bookings. When I couldn't make kids laugh, it felt like I was drowning in a dunk tank. My thoughts got darker every day. I started drinking again. Some days, I'd wake up and not recognize myself in the mirror; I'd never gone so long without a big red nose. I'd gained 50 lbs. and lost lots of hair since the glory days of Katrina. I wasn't the clown I used to be. The makeup was off, and looking in the mirror, I no longer saw the face of someone who made children laugh, or anyone else for that matter.
On the worst days, I came very close to ending it all, but I was too much of a rubber chicken to pull the trigger myself.
In late May, out of pity, Mike, another bartender, booked me to perform for the kids at some family thing of his. It was my first gig in weeks, but the whole thing was such a disaster. I was so rusty that the kids started crying and wouldn't stop until Mike just cut it short and paid me to go home. My desperation was so bad that even those kids could smell it. Unlike face paint, no matter how many times I showered, I just couldn't wash the shame off. It's miserable to be a clown without kids there to laugh. That night, for the third time that month, I stared down the barrel of a loaded gun but just couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, not even once. I gave up when the bar called me to cover to an extra shift. The next morning, police found the mangled remains of Buttons the Clown, coincidentally in Mike's neighborhood where I'd just been. The body count rose to seven.
By the early summer, things got to be so bad that there was a clown meeting to figure out what to do. I saw the announcement on ClownJobs.com but only went because I saw that some pretty big names were going to be there; I'm talking like Silly Millie and Spanky Mallone! It was enough to get me to come to the ugliest rec center basement I'd ever seen, squished into the arm of a sofa that smelled older than I was, just so I could hear what these legends had to say. There must've been at least forty clowns there. Little did I know that would be the night of the eighth murder.
That night, I'd given a ride to my buddy Greg, better known as Choco the Clown. I'd known Greg for a few years and we'd clowned around together a lot in the past, even though he was much more accomplished. Greg and I met while volunteering at a Children's Hospital in 2009 as part of "Clowning for a Cause." He'd just moved to the area from Cleveland, and I was one of his first contacts in the area. Greg was a good friend, but we weren't that close.
"Can you believe what that psychopath did to poor ol' Buttons?" Greg was speaking to Kevin the Clown, who was wearing a washy bowtie with tacky suspenders holding up his enormous bright red polka dot pants. All the other clowns at the meeting were dressed up, but somehow Greg and I never got the memo that this would be a red-nose affair. Needless to say, we looked ridiculous in our jeans and sneakers.
"Yeah," Kevin replied. "I heard he got tied into more knots than a balloon animal. He was never particularly gifted at those, so I suppose the lesson was far overdue."
He smirked, and I was reminded how big of an asshole he was. Really. Kevin's whole shtick was he was a CPA who "crunched the numbers" to make the perfect routine, but I never bought his bullshit. Sure, his jokes had good timing and he made balloon animals like nobody's business, but all his material was borrowed. Basically, he never did an original thing in his life (and "Kevin the Clown" has got to be the hackiest stage name ever). He should've stuck to his spreadsheets, but people let him think he was some big-tent clown.
Anyway, Greg laughed and turned to me. "Did you hear what Kevin just said?"
"Yeah. A man just died and you're joking about it," I chided. "Classy."
Kevin rolled his eyes and Greg made like he was about to argue back, but we got interrupted when two clowns took the mic--Silly Millie and Spanky Mallone.
"Alright everyone, take your seats," Millie said in a booming voice. "Let's get this show on the road." While Millie waited for the room to get quiet, Spanky just stood behind her chewing gum and blowing bubbles. (That was Spanky's thing--sometimes he'd even spit it out to use in tricks. I thought it was pretty gross, but no one else could do it.)
Once there was quiet, Silly Millie spoke for a few minutes about the "sad time that has plagued the clowning community," shared some memories of each of the dead clowns, and then asked for a moment of silence. Afterward, she and Spanky performed a heartfelt tribute to the late Klutzo the Clown. It was only ten minutes long, but it won plenty of laughs and more than a few tears.
"We'll never see his like again," Kevin said. I nodded; Greg wiped his eyes. (He said he "got squirted by a flower." What a card.)
At the end of the tribute, the serious tone returned, and Spanky grabbed the mic.
"Now you probably know the real reason we're all here," he said to some grunts from the crowd. "There's a killer on the loose, and he's pickin' on clowns. Well, I say he picked the wrong fight, 'cuz we clowns don't fool around when it comes to safety." As he spoke, Millie set up an easel with a giant Post-It.
"We got an idea to share with youse guys 'bout how we can stop more killings," Spanky said, and then he read the words that Millie wrote on the giant Post-It. "NO CLOWN LEFT BEHIND."
I cocked an eyebrow. Greg leaned in with interest. Kevin scoffed. Now, Millie took the mic while Spanky wrote.
"We're suggesting that everyone use a buddy system for all performances. Every victim got killed in costume, so we think it's safer for everyone to have another clown accompany them for every performance until this blows over."
There were some groans in the crowd, but Spanky hushed them.
"Hey, I don't like it any more than any of youse, but we all gotta start carpooling from now on, and you're all gonna get used to it! NO CLOWN LEFT BEHIND." He tried to start a chant, which a few people joined, but there was some heckling from people in the back.
"If you don't like it, let's see any of youse come up with something better! Yeah?" Spanky shouted back. Suddenly Kevin was taking the stage to voice his idea. This'll be irritating, I thought.
"Friends," he began, grabbing the mic. "We clowns may be princes of comedy, but we are presently stalked by a cold-blooded killer who wants nothing more than to call curtains on all of us. Well, I for one shall not stand idly by--I have a right to defend myself!" he raised his voice and reached inside of his giant pants for something--a shiny handgun, that he held up in the air. "I say we all go and start carrying a gun all the time from now on and put a bullet through anyone who tries to take one of us down! Who's with me?"
Some people cheered, but most shook their heads. The meeting quickly devolved into a shouting match.
"More dead clowns ain't nothing to laugh 'bout, and guns is our God-given right!" someone shouted.
"Where could I get one of those?" Someone hollered.
"Joe's Guns and Garden Supply on Main Street!" Was the hollered response.
The whole thing smelled like a very bad idea. I would know, because I have them all the time. Now, I'm not a political guy, but in that moment, I became one. All I needed was for Kevin to take one side so that I could take the other.
"What makes you think that'll solve anything?" I tried shouting, but no one heard me. I kept asking the question louder and louder until finally I found myself screaming, "GUNS WON'T SOLVE ANYTHING!" and suddenly everyone got silent. Dozens of clowns were now staring at me.
"Chill out," Greg said softly.
"No! This is a terrible idea," I snapped. "We're clowns. We're here to make kids laugh, not cry, and you're up there going on about taking people out? Newsflash: people are already afraid of clowns without guns! How many more gigs do we gotta lose from scared parents before we stop giving them more reasons to be afraid?"
Kevin glared at me and then shook his head and chuckled.
"Peter, I understand your argument, but none of that will matter once this crisis runs its course. For now, I believe I speak for everyone when I say that our highest priority is stopping the murders, but quite frankly, a 'buddy system' just isn't very practical. With a killer in our midst, who cares about a few people getting nervous if it means we're able to protect ourselves, right?"
I looked around and saw he had the whole room with him now. I swear a few of them were even snickering at me. My moment had passed, and I felt totally humiliated, like having my pants around my ankles at the wrong part of the show. After that, things got less heated and the meeting wrapped up quickly. Soon, Greg and I were heading out.
"I know you hate him, but Kevin made some good points," Greg said as we entered the parking lot.
"You can go ahead and buy a gun, but I don't need to listen to some fourth-rate hack like Kevin the Clown."
"You say he's a fourth-rate hack, but maybe he's onto something with those 'analytics' he's always talking about--I mean, he gets more bookings than both of us," Greg replied. I was only half-listening, when just then I stepped on the teeth of a rusty old rake and the pole smacked me in the forehead. It hurt like all hell.
"Happens to the best of us," Greg said, but I just couldn't believe it: I stepped on a rake and got hit in the face accidentally. Professional clowns are supposed to be good at slapstick. I used to slip on banana peels and rakes all day without getting hurt, but now my skills were as rusty as that damn rake.
"Who the hell just leaves a rake laying around?" I shouted. We were in the middle of the parking lot. Greg just pointed to a rundown toolshed as explanation. I kicked the rake toward the shed, and it made a loud grating sound skittering across the pavement.
When we got to my car, I noticed Kevin was having car trouble a few spots over. The guy was poking around under the hood with a large wrench like he didn't know what he was doing.
"We should offer him a ride," Greg said. "He could be stuck here for a while." By this point, most other cars had already left.
"No," I replied. "Let's see if he asks for help," I added, since I knew he wouldn't.
"Yeah, but what about 'NO CLOWN LEFT BEHIND?'" Greg replied. "Don't be such a dick."
"Fine," I sighed. Greg jogged over to Kevin's car. I saw Greg say something and then gesture to me. He eventually came back but said nothing.
"He didn't even want a ride?" I asked with a smirk as we climbed into my car.
"Nah, said he was good," Greg replied.
"Greg, don't worry, he's got a gun, remember?" I chuckled. "He'll be fine."
We left the rundown rec center and drove off into the dark, dark night.
It was barely light out when the police found Kevin's body. The Louisiana Clown Killer poked him more holes than a spaghetti strainer. Kevin's corpse was still holding his gun-fully loaded with the safety off--but the killer had put a flag in the barrel made from spreadsheet paper with "BANG!" written across. In my opinion, it was the most creative thing that Kevin had done (or been part of). Part of me felt guilty, but the rest of me enjoyed the irony.
Police said the killer found the meeting through ClownJobs.com, so the site shut down. We stopped having clown meetings after that.
September came and went. Another month without gigs. As the body count rose to eleven, the killer got a new nickname, "Last Laugh Psychopath," after it leaked that he'd dial 911 on victims' phones just to laugh into the receiver. Meanwhile, my drinking and dark thoughts got worse, and some days I hoped the killer would just come for me next and free me from my hopelessness.
Finally, it was October, and with it came my meal ticket: the Angola Prison Rodeo. Angola is a maximum-security prison one hour north of me, and the place is basically a giant plantation where the inmates work the fields. Each weekend in October, Angola hosts this humongous carnival where the prisoners and locals come together for a rodeo and Arts & Crafts fair. Thousands of families show up every year, and they hire lots of clowns to entertain. The convicts are part of the rodeo, and the biggest attraction is "Convict Poker," where a bull charges toward four inmates sitting around a poker table, and the last man still sitting wins.
That's not why I go, though. The Angola Prison Rodeo was my biggest event of the year. With so many families, it's my best chance to land gigs if they like my act. Plus, it's steady weekend work for a full month.
With all the murders, people were worried to have so many clowns in one place, but then again, Angola is a maximum-security prison.
It seemed pretty safe.
"What's got you sweating so hard, Pete?" Greg asked me. "It's 8 in the morning in the middle of freakin' October." The Arts & Crafts fair had some small stages for hourly shows, and we were booked to perform as a duo that evening. I'd driven us both that day.
I had been looking forward to the rodeo like a starving animal waits for its next meal, but after months with no gigs, I felt rusty and anxious about performing. Worse, I was nervous that it'd be Mike's all over again. I needed this.
"Pete, it's gonna be fine, man. You're gonna be fine," Greg offered, but I'm not sure either of us believed it.
"I'm just antsy; I'll be fine," I replied, hoping it was true.
"I'm gonna kill, and you'll be great." Greg put on his big red nose and squeaked it with a grin.
"Showtime!" he winked.
If I only knew.
Soon, the carnival was abuzz with families from all over the state. Performers got to work playing tricks, cracking jokes, and blowing balloon animals. The prisoner were kept to a fenced-off area until the rodeo started. Greg found a large group of children who looked like they'd come straight out of Sunday school, and I watched them giggle at his "spilled coffee on my pants" routine. It was a nice day to be outside, and I wasn't having a horrible time.
Feeling positive, I walked up to a young family with twin girls in a stroller.
"Hi there," I said in my silliest voice, leaning over the stroller. "I'm Poopsie the Clown. What're your names?" Normally, my name is enough to make kids giggle, but that's not what happened this time.
One girl shrieked, and the other started screaming for her mommy. I jumped back in alarm, bumping into the brick wall behind me who was their father. He wore a wife-beater with a red bandanna in his hair and glared at me with the meanest blue eyes I've ever seen.
"Get the FUCK away from my little girls, you freak!" he growled.
I started apologizing but he shoved me aside so hard that I knocked over a young janitor who'd been working with a rusty old rake. This time, I missed the rake, but the janitor tumbled across the pavement.
"Ignore that walking corpse," the man said to his wife as they hurried away with their nasty kids.
Walking corpse? For some reason, that hit home. Here I finally was at my biggest job of the year, and this asshole was pushing me back into a very dark place. Was a "walking corpse" really all that I was to these people?
I felt my hands balling into fists. Desperate thoughts whirled through my head until I realized that everyone was staring at me as I lay there in a pile with the young janitor and his rusty old rake. I got to my feet and helped him up before getting the hell out of there.
Was this how things would be from here on out? I was a sad clown at a carnival full of happy people. Even the convicts were in a good mood. There were plenty of laughs and smiles, but none were for me. I felt like a ghost, but even a ghost would've gotten more attention. It's miserable to be a clown too sad to make kids laugh. I couldn't live like this.
I was such a mess that I hid in my car for a while and starting drinking from a flask I kept buried glove compartment. When that ran out, I found my other flask that was hidden in the wheel well. As I drank, all I could think was, If this doesn't help, nothing will. Eventually I swallowed enough liquid courage to get me back on the fair grounds. By this point, I was pretty much set on taking my life later that night. The thought that I'd never have to deal with any of these problems ever again felt reassuring.
The next hour or so was a clumsy blur. I remember making a few kids laugh at first, but they weren't laughing at the right parts of my magic milk trick. I remember getting hollered at near the inmate cage, some vomiting, and then the next thing I knew, Greg was dragging me by the arm into the dressing room. He was furious.
"Are you crazy?" he yelled. "You're gonna get yourself fired, and you need this gig bad! You know clowns are skating on thin ice these days. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Leave me alone," I whined. "It doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter?!" That got him mad, and he started yelling the kinds of things that angry people yell and then later pretend they didn't really mean to say. He talked about my drinking, my balloon-making, my attitude, and a bunch of other things about me that disappointed him. I was so drunk that I stopped listening after a while and zoned out until I felt Greg smack me across the head, snapping me back to reality and into a pile of rainbow wigs.
"You're a selfish prick, you know that?" he growled. "Is this really what you want for yourself? Because you're not the only one. Who cares about what happens to you. Plus, if you don't get paid, I also don't get paid. Pete, we gotta do a show tonight. The show's gotta go on!"
I'd completely forgotten about our clown show that evening. I mumbled something back, but he just cut me off.
"Do you know how close clowns got to being cut from the rodeo this year? If they find out some bozo's been drinking and scaring the kids, they'll fire us all!"
I swallowed hard and kept my mouth shut, so he just kept going.
"Now, can you do our show tonight or are you just gonna screw that up too?"
"I can sober up," I mumbled. "I'll be good."
"You'd better," he said forcefully. "Because right now, it looks like you've forgotten the gravity of our situation. If you can't remember to take that seriously, then maybe you shouldn't be a clown anymore."
He glared at me with a look of deadly seriousness, and for a second, I thought he was going to come at me again, but then he softened. He helped me back up and sat down with me in the corner between the pogo sticks and the giant chicken costume. Greg changed his tone and apologized for hitting me.
"Pete, can I tell you story? You gotta promise not to tell anyone though." He looked at me very intensely and I realized he was waiting for me to nod, so I did.
"We've known each other for a while, so it's time I told you why I packed up everything and moved down here from Cleveland so suddenly. You must've been wondering about that for some time now," he said. (Truthfully, the question had never crossed my mind, but I didn't tell him that.)
"Back in '08, I used to be a big deal in Cleveland, and I went by Mocha the Clown. Back then, I didn't just do kids parties and small events--I did summer camps and school assemblies, man. I was as big as my shoes. I had a wife--Evelyn--and we were happy. Real happy," Greg smiled. "She was a trauma counselor, but boy could she laugh!"
He shook his head and took a deep breath before carrying on. "But then we had a rough patch, there was some cheating, and she left me for her dentist. I took it real bad, I got to drinking, like, a lot. It got so bad that there was this one birthday party where I threw up on a few kids, and, well…like I said, it was pretty bad."
He rubbed his temples.
"I moved here to get a fresh start--a new name, a part of the country I'd never been to before. Then I joined 'Clowning for a Cause' in '09, met you, and…well, the rest is history."
I was silent and didn't know what to say. We were both pretty private people, so I'd never known any of this--or the even that he'd been married--but I now saw him in a different light. Greg looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"I've been down this road, too, Pete--you can't drink on the job." I nodded, and he sighed. "Look, you need to get a grip. Like my wife Evelyn used to say, just sit here and sober the fuck up. Do I need to stay here to watch you?" He gave me a worried look, but I just told him I'd be fine.
Greg nodded and got up to go. "It's 1pm," he said with a look at his watch. "I'm supposed to be face-painting now, but I'll keep checking in. You've got five hours to kill until I need you ready for our show tonight."
He got up and headed to the door but stopped and looked back. "One more thing--if anyone finds you back here or asks about you, we'll say that you slipped on the wrong banana peel and needed a breather, okay?"
I nodded again and watched him leave.
I did as Greg said, and sat in silence for hours. I spent a lot of that time just staring at a rodeo poster; I focused on the horse's hooves. Greg checked in on me from time to time, and at one point brought us both corndogs for lunch. It took me a while, but I did sober up, though as that happened, I got to thinking some more. I thought about those nasty crying little girls and their father shoving me into a janitor; I thought about the people I scared at the carnival. I thought about how empty everything felt without clowning. I thought about how awful my last few months had been and how awful the next few years could be. I thought about how nothing ever changed for me in this unfulfilling life of mine, and I thought about the inevitability of death. We spend our whole lives waiting for it. Getting there faster no longer bothered me as much as the waiting.
I finally felt brave enough to act, and it remains the clearest thought I've ever had to this day. I'd end it all that night after I dropped Greg off that evening. All that was left between now and sweet release was our clown show. It felt bittersweet that I'd get to put on one last show. I didn't even care if the crowd liked me; I just hoped I could make someone laugh.
That evening, our clown show could not have gone worse. Against all forecasts, the weather turned for the worse in the late afternoon, and most guests left the carnival early. The evening rodeo events all got cancelled and the inmates got taken back to the prison earlier that day. By the time our show started at 6pm, the crowd had thinned to just a few families and the cleanup crew. I was surprised to see the wife and daughters of the angry man were there, but not him. I made eye contact with the young janitor from earlier; he was leaning on his rusty old rake.
It started drizzling as we took the outdoor stage, so before we even started, most kids had stopped watching the show and were whining to their parents about the rain. Midway into Greg's "spilled coffee on my pants" routine, it started pouring, and the audience left without laughing or clapping and we packed up our props and retreated from the stage.
"I hope we still get paid," Greg grumbled.
All the other performers had long since called it a day and gone home, and most of the staff was already gone since the carnival grounds would be closing soon. The plan was that I'd haul our props to the truck before the rain got worse and wait for Greg while he grabbed our stuff from the dressing room.
The parking lot was deserted. By the time I loaded our stuff into the trunk, it was pouring really hard and I had to sit in the driver's seat drenched in my clown-suit. My phone was out of battery, so I tried to find something to listen to on the radio while I waited for Greg, but all the channels were screwy from the weather. Eventually, I gave in to the static.
After ten minutes, I grew bored of waiting for Greg, but I couldn't text him to hurry up. I really wanted to change out of my wet clown-suit, but my other clothes were with him in the dressing room. After fifteen minutes, the thunder and lightning began. I'd been looking forward to this day for months, but everything about it had sucked; I wasn't even sure we'd get paid. After thirty minutes, I took advantage of the storm easing off and raced back to the dressing room. By now, Greg was taking so long that we were literally the last people at the rodeo. I found myself hoping to be struck by lightning. Everything would be so much easier that way, I told myself.
Maybe if I'd been more impatient and waited less time in the car, Greg would still be alive. By the time I got to the dressing room, it was already too late.
Greg lay on the floor in a pool of dark liquid. He'd been shot in the head, but the liquid didn't look like blood--it was too brown. He was still in his clown suit, drenched like I was by the rain, but he was burned all over. He smelled awful.
That's when I noticed that I was not alone. Seated on a stool in the corner with a shotgun on his lap and his rusty old rake propped up behind him, the young janitor had the creepiest look of absolute contentment on his face that I have ever seen. In the dim lighting, he watched me. I stared back. Neither of us moved. The deafening silence was louder than the storm.
"I spilled coffee all over his pants," he snickered, but I just stared at him. "All over him! 'Course, I shot him in the head first. I'm not a monster."
"You're…they call you the Last Laugh Psychopath," I managed to say.
He wrinkled his nose. "I hate that name. It doesn't even rhyme! And mental illness is a serious issue that you shouldn't joke about!" He was about to launch into a heated rant, but then stopped himself instead. "I preferred the Louisiana Clown Killer," he sniffed. "That's got a better ring to it."
I didn't say anything else, I just stared at him. I was dumbfounded that the maniac who had caused me so much pain and ruined the last year of my life was now here with me in a dressing room at the Angola Prison Rodeo, trying to make small-talk after killing my friend. I kept looking at his shotgun, wondering if I was next.
"It's funny," he said, scratching his head. "This is the first time I've ever been able to see someone's reaction to my work first-hand. Any thoughts? Questions? Suggestions?" He gave me a curious look, but I couldn't say anything.
He tapped his foot impatiently but kept his voice level. "Take your time. I insist."
I did have a question, and somehow found the voice to ask it. "Why? Why him?" I managed.
He smiled. "Ah, I was hoping you'd ask that!" he cheerfully sprung up from his chair; as he got up, the rusty old rake clattered to the floor with a familiar scraping sound.
"Choco was my twelfth clown, but probably the most important one of all," the killer said, circling me slowly. "Want to know why?"
I didn't answer--I just stared at his shotgun.
"Believe it or not, I used to love clowns--lots of fond memories there--but one day, some clown came along and spoiled it all! Guess who it was?" he asked me, standing over Greg's body. At this point, he was right in front of me with this horrible look in his face.
"HIM." The psychopath gestured to Greg's lifeless body with the rifle. "This clown ruined my life!"
I said nothing, but he continued.
"You're probably wondering what he could've done to make me do all of this," he said. "But I'm not like those other whackjobs who just do this for no reason. Let me tell you, if you'd been in the Katrina shelters that day with me and saw what I saw, you'd want to do this, too. I'll never forget his white, pasty face, or what he did with that chewing gum…"
Katrina shelters? Wait a minute, I thought. The psychopath was now describing some whiny story from his childhood where this one clown show put on for the kids at some shelter after Hurricane Katrina, but I wasn't really listening, because what he was saying made absolutely no sense.
I was all too familiar with Katrina shelters because I'd organized clown volunteers during the relief efforts for "Clowning for a Cause." How could I forget my Fox News interview and how it launched me into the best part of my career? I'll never forget the sadness in those people's eyes, or how happy their kids were to see us when we performed, but at that moment one detail stuck out in mind above all others.
Greg wasn't in Hurricane Katrina. He wasn't involved in the relief efforts, and he didn't perform in the shelters. Back in 2005, he was still living and working in Cleveland. Greg didn't have a pasty white face, because Greg was black. The only white on his face was clown makeup.
There was no way in hell that Greg was the clown from this guy's story. I looked nothing like Greg, but even I was still more likely to have been the clown this guy was looking for. Yet, here I was, listening to Greg's killer ramble on about how Greg's clown show ruined his life. What the hell was going on?
Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the killer, who I realized was shouting at me. "GIVE ME YOUR CAR KEYS!" he was screaming. The Louisiana Clown Killer was pointing the gun to my head, but I didn't move. I reached inside myself and found the strength to do what I'd been building towards all day.
"Greg wasn't your clown," I found myself saying. This is it, I thought.
"What?"
"He wasn't even in Hurricane Katrina. But I was. Maybe I'm your clown." I swallowed hard, preparing myself for whatever came next. "I'm your real target."
He gave me one hard look, and then burst out laughing; he was laughing so hard he almost dropped the shotgun rifle. I don't think I've ever made anyone laugh so hard in my entire life, but this wasn't the kind of laughter I liked. This kind of laughter made me mad.
"Hey! I said that I'm your clown! What's so funny?"
He finally got hold of himself enough to speak. "You?" he laughed. "No way!"
"Why are you laughing?!" I didn't understand. I was more terrified by this reaction than I was of him just shooting me in the head.
"Just--just give me your car keys, and we can be done with this?" he managed. Tears streamed down his face, he was laughing so hard.
"I'M THE CLOWN WHO RUINED YOUR LIFE! SO JUST KILL ME ALREADY!" I shouted. I rushed at him and tried to wrestle the shotgun from his hands, but he rammed his shoulders into me. I fell over easily and felt a piercing pain along my backside. I'd fallen on the rake; I instantly rolled off it.
The killer was now standing over me. He was no longer laughing.
"Why won't you just kill me?" I growled, furious and humiliated, but he just stared at me with this intense look on his face and shook his head.
"You're no clown," he said. "You're just sad."
The last thing I remember was reaching for the rake at my side to strike him, but he was faster. He slammed me over the head with the butt of his rifle. I heard something crack.
When police found me with Greg's body, at first, they thought I was the killer, and I had such a bad injuries that I couldn't defend myself from these accusations while I recovered in the hospital. Meanwhile, the news media fed on me like vultures with stories about "Poopsie's Purge." Even after I proved my innocence and helped police capture the real killer, people blamed for not catching him sooner. The media circus got me plenty of publicity, but no new gigs. Apparently, no one wanted the clown from serial killer interviews to entertain their kids.
The Louisiana Clown Killer's name was Evan Staples. The guy was only 20 but had serious issues. He'd spent half his life in a psych ward and only got out by turning 18. Now, he was going back permanently. It's still unclear why Staples did any of this, but the police say that when asked about each victim, he told the story of the clown show that "ruined" his life where he imagined them as the clown from his shelter. Man or woman, black or white, tall or short--it didn't matter. Staples looked past all that and didn't even see his victims as different people.
We may never know who his clown really was. For all I know, it could've been me and he just couldn't believe that he'd finally found me. At least, that's what I tell myself. The only reason I've been able to deal with any of this is because of the antidepressants they gave me in the hospital. A shrink said I "should've been on these a long time ago."
It's been several months since that night at the Angola Prison Rodeo, but it feels like years. I finally decided it was time to move on from all of this. My lease was up, so I cleared up my apartment, quit the bar, and packed my things into my car. To go back to clowning, I'll have to start over like Greg did--only I'm moving from Baton Rouge to Cleveland. I'm driving out of Louisiana and never looking back.
If anyone's got a gig, let me know. I'm available for your next big event or kid's party.
submitted by Lord_Harcourt to nosleep [link] [comments]


2018.01.09 05:21 ASavageLost Writing about being a ridiculous piece of garbage on heroin in New Orleans sometime after Obama was elected

New Orleans Fall2008-Spring2009

I had a room in an apartment on Octavia and Fountainbleau. I kept it pitch black all day and night. My bare mattress sat against the wall. Trash and old food stunk, scattered across the floor. A heavy comforter hung from the curtain rods, and in the corner a reading lamp sat on top of an unplugged TV. It was the only light in the room, and it focused on the only things that mattered to me: a spoon, a syringe, a lighter and some empty baggies on top of the TV. Cigarettes and hot spoons melted the top of the TV while I dug around in my forearm searching for a vein. Sometimes I sprayed the bloody water on the walls.

My room matched my head, rotting trash strewn everywhere, curtains stained with bodily fluids, stink and neglect. It was full of a black sickness and wherever I went, I painted everything the same color. Things could be going well, but it would not be long till I turned my life into a mushroom cloud and everything around me into rubble. Once again, those who loved me would be left to shield their eyes from the shockwave of dust, brains and shrapnel that would otherwise hit them in the face.

I loved to make a mess.

I struggled to order my food in English at the airport in Houston, partly from living in Peru for so long and partly because of the Xanax I took before the flight. My family stayed positive about my arrival in light of the fact that I barely escaped El Callao with my life and in spite of the fact that things looked to be much as they always were. Timothy came with my father to pick me up from the airport to get some shots for the movie. I slurred my words.
My mother invited Turkey and the rest of the family and friends to see me at the house after 18 months in a foreign country and longer than that exiled from home by addiction and being categorically uncivilized. My dad bragged about me to his friend in the pool one night.
“Hey, Eric! Riley was a street fighter in the ghetto, down in Peru.” That was an exaggeration, but I had been in a lot of fights.
He always looked for the positive side of things, which was remarkable, because he had someone looking for my dead body in the morgues of Lima a month before. As far as he and his friend were concerned I was the kind of person they only read about in books. He admired the way I rejected societal pretenses and anything I couldn’t justify as having substance, but his heart broke when he saw me living like a slave to chemicals.
“You don’t give into anything! I look at you and see a resolve I wish I had. It’s like where does that even come from? Then you turn around and give your life to pay for your drug dealer’s Cadillac. It doesn’t make any sense, Riley. Can’t you see it?”
I was smoking crack and shooting heroin within two weeks of being back home and couldn’t eat Thanksgiving turkey from doing meth. There were times when my mom would send me to the store to buy three packs of cigarettes with a 20-dollar bill, but I wouldn’t come back for an hour and a half, without cigarettes, without money and without a reason why. One night my dad caught me crawling across his bedroom floor to get his wallet out of his jeans, and I put a hole in the kitchen drywall when he screamed at me. A week or so after that, he got mad at me while I was still in bed, so when I got up I shattered a 3x6 glass table top and smashed one of his cherished reel to reel players. Cheo met me in the park that morning, and after a half hour my mom showed up to say that she was done being taken hostage in her own home. I told her that I hoped she died and called her a b**** and flung an extinguished cigarette butt at her face.
My mom paid a friend from grammar school 450 bucks to rent the back half of his apartment on Octavia and Fountainbleau. She wanted to get me out of the house if nothing else, and my roomate was on an indefinite suspension from his career as a NOPD officer after flashing his badge and beating up a pizza cook when he was drunk one night. The cop always bought two bags for 100 dollars, but I got three for 120. He snorted his and looked down on me for shooting mine. On several occasions, something they used to cut the dope gave me an allergic reaction and caused my hand and arm to swell like a balloon with hives. I asked my dad if he had any ideas about what might cause my arm to swell like that, but it only made him look worried.
I figured this is good a time as any to tell you about my parents, where they’re from, how they met and what life was like for us in the city of New Orleans. Not only will this give you some important insight into the lives of two major players in this horror show, it will be a nice break from these gross displays of selfish brutality towards people who loved me. I imagine reading this can be hard for someone who’s never been there. It’s hard for me to write, sometimes.
My mother was Miss Catholic High growing up in Baton Rouge. She went to Saint Joseph’s Academy, which is the sister school to Catholic High, where my father went. They didn’t know each other, and it would be years before they finally met in New Orleans at his cousin’s apartment. My mother had a hard life growing up. Her father drank. Her mother spanked. She learned to take care of herself early on and carried that into our family.
My father was a Chapman by name, an American by birth, a veterinarian by trade and first became a father by my own birth. We have a strong Irish-Scottish-English heritage, marked by our fiery tempers and crippling compassion. No one can get angry like a Chapman. It’s debatable, though, if that temper is actually a Chapman trait or a Singleton trait.
He went to visit his dying cousin a few years ago, one of two sisters who were deformed from birth. He told my sisters and me about them a few times in my life. My uncle and grandmother mentioned them a time or two, in passing. I never saw them and never thought about it much, probably in part because my father never really seemed too concerned with it. His life continued with us and my mom and work and the bills and making memories to last him the rest of his life. He was successful. In spite of struggles, he came out okay, but the night he went to visit his cousin on her deathbed and his aunt with all her mental faculties sharp as ever, he broke down. I wasn't there, but my mom told me he had to run out of the room, because he was so openly and uncontrollably sobbing. He and I never have talked about it. I never asked why, but I have my doubts that he could even give a real answer to the question. That's my guess, because I’m subject to similar episodes.
Maybe, he wondered why him and not her. They were about the same age. Their mothers were sisters, but here he was coming to visit. He came to get a half hour glimpse into the life of his cousin who'd never experienced the things she should have. She was about to die. She had no kids, no husband, never made love. That was her life, and it was ending in that room. It's not fair. It's just the way things go, and it can be enough to make a grown man cry.
As I grew up, he spent the night drinking with my mother, dancing in the clubs or with friends at the house. We had babysitters a lot. They loved to party and entertain the local musicians at the house, but sometimes, drinking turned into arguing. Arguing turned into things I’m not here to talk about, because I love them too much to act like they should have been perfect. I cannot adequately describe how much I love my mother and father. No one is responsible for my actions except me. But I will say this. While alcohol is a loved thing by so many, it never caused anything but problems in my household growing up.
Life on heroin continued for me in New Orleans. My father made a deal with me on a Monday morning behind the clinic. He would give me 50 bucks a day to stay well until I could get enrolled in the methadone program. I should have checked into it that day, but I got high and slept. On Tuesday morning, I didn’t go see him about the 50 bucks. Instead I broke into their house and stole a big box TV and some jewelry, which the pawnshop wouldn’t take. I would have to try for another 50 bucks from him.
“You said you were going to find out if I gave you that money! Now you want more?” His bottom teeth stuck out of his mouth, and there was a V-shaped crease in his forehead. Nothing expressed disappointment the way his green eyes could.
“I know. I’m really sick.” I sat in the Landcruiser and clutched my stomach with the window rolled halfway down.
“I don’t think I can help you today. Sorry!”
“Well, then, go get me a bottle of the pink s***!” I put my elbow through the driver side window and cut the wheel all the way to the right. I ripped my foot off the clutch and slammed onto the gas to spin backwards. He rolled behind a parked car to protect himself. The pink stuff was his euthanasia solution for putting animals down.
I spun circles backwards in the gravel parking lot for close to a minute. Then, I jerked it to a halt and screamed at him through the broken glass that I would drive into the Mississippi river and kill myself that way. He was on the phone calling 911 as he followed me down to the river behind the levee and back over it again. When the cops showed up I cooperated. They used soft restraints, because my hands and arms were bloody and swollen from thrashing around in the vehicle. The 911 call can be found on YouTube with a search for “A Crooked Line” under the user TungstenMonkey. First, you’ll hear my father talking to the operator, and then you’ll see footage of me getting arrested on the side of his clinic.
My mom and dad found the stuff I had stolen in the back of the LandCruiser but did not press charges. The hospital sewed me up and required me to spend the night on the psyche ward of Oschner Hospital. There was nothing they could do for me. They let me go in the morning.
Somewhere I found a maroon turtleneck and wore it everywhere I went. My beard had grown bushy and red. My hair curled and sat thick on top of my head. My belly pushed the fabric of the turtleneck into grease and cigarette ashes and made it protrude so that Mr. Pibb and cereal fell on it when I ate on my bed at night. I looked like Zac Galifianakis in that stained turtleneck.
Timothy came over to film, so there was some footage of me at the apartment talking about how I didn’t get high anymore, “just well,” but I am nodding out in the shot and scratching my nose in the turtleneck. I tried to fold my clothes on the bed but instead I leaned over them, half asleep and rolled them up into wrinkly balls, before putting them into my suitcase. It was the most absurd thing you’ve ever seen. I said, “Well I’m a piece of s, so I hope nobody is too disappointed about that. I’m a sorry piece of s.”
I worked as a valet at one of the hotels on St. Charles and went to work that next Saturday night as usual. If I made enough money in tips while I was working, I would take off with one of the customer’s cars to score in the ghetto, but that night was not good for me. My mom’s mom, Grand Mary, let me stay at her apartment 10 blocks away, because I didn’t have the LandCruiser to drive back to my place.
In the morning I woke up with my legs on the wall, and when she came to take the sheets off the couch, she asked me if I wet the bed.
“No.”
“Then why is the sheet so wet?”
“I’m sweating.”
“Why are you sweating?” She reached out to touch the moisture on my forehead.
“I’m sick.”
“Why are you sick?”
“Um………… I’m sick for heroin.”
“You’re on heroine?”
“Yeah. I’m on heroine. I’m sick.”
“Why did you get on heroine, again?”
“I don’t really have a good answer for that, but I get sick, so I can’t really stop.”
“Well, what are you going to do about that? Isn’t there something you can do?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to be getting on methadone Tuesday morning.”
“Why wait till Tuesday?”
“That’s when they take people into the program.”
“Hmm. Well, how are you going to work?”
“I don’t know. I can’t get anything without money.”
“How much money do you need?”
“Bags go for 50.”
My grandmother went to get her wallet and took me in her Camry to the Conoco on Willow before she took me to work. I was so high at work that I almost got fired.
More and more the place on Octavia fell apart even though I had started the methadone program. Dried out chunks of a once stringy slime and mold grew on the dishes piled high in the sink. There were two vases of dead, brown flowers on the kitchen counter. Half of a plastic grocery bag had melted to the stove top coils. I lost my key one day and smashed through the front door window. Broken glass sat scattered on the floor until I moved out, and the toilet had clogged weeks before I left. I kept using it anyway, and waste mounded out and above the rim. The TV sat on a table in the hallway and blocked anyone from getting into my room without some serious maneuvering. I used a broom to change the channels from bed, and since there was nothing for me in town and no one that wanted me around I talked Cheo into letting me move back to Taos with him in a few months. I’m not sure if he ever actually agreed to it, but that was the plan.
After being on methadone for a couple of months I wanted to wean down for the move back to Taos, because I didn’t know where the closest clinic would be or how I would get there. There was a counselor assigned to my treatment program at the clinic, and he looked terrified to see me at his door asking for counseling. His button up shirt didn’t fit right. He had a bowl cut haircut and a chipped tooth. It was clear that he had no business being an adult, but here he was responsible for helping me get off some seriously addictive chemicals.
“Do you think we could lower my dose, maybe ten milligrams a week, so I can get off the methadone?” He looked like a first grader without his homework and squirmed in his seat. He stared at his lap and shuffled the papers on his desk around. “Um, why don’t you let me make a call?”
He used three fingers to push multiple buttons at a time and struggled to hold his half of the alleged conversation. I wondered if he was a real man or three Little Rascals on each other’s shoulders pretending to be a grown up. He seemed lumpy enough. I expected the howler tone would be coming over the line any minute. I walked out.
My parents helped me get some suboxone from a dealer. I took my last dose of methadone on a Monday morning and let half of the orange stop sign shaped suboxone dissolve under my tongue the next morning. A wave of queasiness rolled up from the soles of my feet. Another wave rolled down from my goose bumped scalp and met in my abdomen. My stomach quivered. I became a soggy burrito under my covers. Calf muscles burned like I had the flu. Sleep came in five-minute increments of fevered terror. There was an invisible hair caught in my throat, and I let another piece of suboxone dissolve under my tongue. Nothing changed. For three days I experienced precipitated withdrawal, which is when a full agonist, such as heroin, is displaced from opioid receptors by an antagonist, such as naloxone. In other words, if you don’t wait long enough to take suboxone after your last dose of any other opiate, you experience full blown withdrawal, immediately and for several days. There was nothing I could do about it.
While I waited to go back to Taos I had to move back into my parents for a month after the landlords evicted us from Octavia and Fountainbleau. One morning, my dad’s hair was gray. He looked tired. The passing years and his only son had aged him. I had not slept in a day or two, but I could clearly see the price of my selfishness that day. Quiet, he walked through the kitchen. The lines in his face and straight lips said it all. He cast his eyes down, and he stooped. I was killing him.
The sight of it hit somewhere inside of me I didn’t know existed. I got a momentary glimpse of the pain he lived with, and it was more than I could take. For a few hours every time I looked at him I busted up into tears and had to run outside with in fits of uncontrollable sobbing. He was wounded by my self-destruction. I had always wanted to hurt him, but now I didn’t know how to turn it off. It would not stop, because inflicting pain was second nature and came without thinking. We were stuck with it, and I cried my eyes out.
He didn’t say much, and I don’t know if he understood what was happening. Sometimes drug addicts cry for no reason, and I had not been sleeping. My moods were unstable especially around him, or at least he always noticed the instability. I weep now, when I remember what he looked like that day. Stuck with a reality he hated. He chose to suffer quietly while his guts twisted, and his only son chased an early death.
My last week or so in New Orleans before Cheo took me back to Taos, I maintained my opioid addiction with crumbs of suboxone and talked to people who weren’t there from the meth I was shooting. Cheo and I were loading up his truck, when I told my dad my new idea for a book.
“I’m going to call it, ‘Bury me in Taos.’”
“Why would you say something like that, Riley? Huh?”
“You know? There is a lot of beauty in being buried under the shale in a nameless grave on the side of the mountain, so the pigs can eat you.” I was sincere and enthused. We both liked to read a guy named B. Traven, a Marxist writer from the earlier part of the 20th century down in Mexico. He had written of his desire to be buried like that for the pigs, a truly socialist sentiment. My dad didn’t think my idea for a book was so beautiful, but he was happy to see me go with Cheo.
To my father’s dismay, Cheo and I came back at the house a few hours later. I locked myself up in my sister’s room and dug around in my arm, with a horse needle until blood covered me. My dad knocked and almost busted down the door before I let him in. Downstairs in the kitchen my mom fried catfish for my uncle and aunt and Cheo; I freaked out on my dad.
“This is why you can’t be around, Riley. No matter what you are always upset about something. The way I look at you and everything else!”
Cheo and I took off shortly after and made it to Lake Charles, before we stopped to sleep at a Motel 6. I wish I could say my behavior reassured to Cheo about my coming with him, but I kept talking to translucent figures in the dark of the room and looking through the window. When we woke up it was miserably hot and bright, and the anxiety of the carnage I left New Orleans sat in my stomach like hot chunks of lead, until we got to Taos.
submitted by ASavageLost to Drugs [link] [comments]


2017.08.30 18:25 subreddit_stats Subreddit Stats: metacanada posts from 2017-08-14 to 2017-08-29 16:00 PDT

Period: 15.61 days
Submissions Comments
Total 956 8301
Rate (per day) 61.24 503.28
Unique Redditors 215 1096
Combined Score 40156 46993

Top Submitters' Top Submissions

  1. 3014 points, 53 submissions: Ham_Sandwich77
    1. One Canadian among the dead in Barcelona attack. Still no apology or disavowal from the alt-left or Trudeau. (176 points, 25 comments)
    2. Oh oh. Look out, everyone. OGFT are going to 'hunt you all down and smash your skulls open'. Hahahaha!! Scared yet? (172 points, 66 comments)
    3. <---- # number of years before the alt left finally apologize for and disavow their latest truck attack. (158 points, 63 comments)
    4. Who would know better than Poland? (134 points, 47 comments)
    5. Time for a travel ban: Canadian visas being sold on the black market in the middle east via facebook. (128 points, 19 comments)
    6. <--- # of genders Freeland is demanding the US recognize at the NAFTA negotiations. (127 points, 6 comments)
    7. PSA: The lesson everyone should have taken from Charlottesville is - Don't attend these "right wing" protestests or rallies. (115 points, 94 comments)
    8. BLM just posted 10 d̶e̶m̶a̶n̶d̶s̶ "requests" directed at white people. (102 points, 36 comments)
    9. ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! (101 points, 5 comments)
    10. Daily reminder: OGFT is anti-Canada. (100 points, 4 comments)
  2. 2303 points, 30 submissions: theantidilluvian
    1. Alt-Left defined (350 points, 28 comments)
    2. If you laugh at this image, you are a literal nazi and should be banned from reddit. (239 points, 11 comments)
    3. Reminder, ANTIFA has been labelled Domestic Terrorists by the New Jersey office of Homeland Security (139 points, 1 comment)
    4. ANTIFA commie gets shot in the nuts with a rubber bullet (129 points, 22 comments)
    5. James Woods is based. (128 points, 14 comments)
    6. This was said in the 4th century. Let that sink in for a moment. (123 points, 4 comments)
    7. Judging by the cover (120 points, 5 comments)
    8. Muzzie logic (98 points, 3 comments)
    9. Meet Cuckold Ken (92 points, 0 comments)
    10. Censorship 2017 (84 points, 3 comments)
  3. 1972 points, 66 submissions: StarShitePoopers
    1. Toronto-bound passenger named Mohammad tried to board Winnipeg plane with semi-automatic gun (196 points, 22 comments)
    2. Internet Rumours Abound that Antifa Plans to Crash Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. (85 points, 7 comments)
    3. 50 Percent of Haitian AsylumSeekers Get to Stay in Canada (78 points, 8 comments)
    4. Buckingham Palace attack: Terror suspect reached for 4ft sword and shouted 'Allahu Akbar' (74 points, 6 comments)
    5. Canada struggling to 'absorb' immigrants: Douglas Todd (72 points, 7 comments)
    6. Canadian Tire ISIS Attacker is Just a Lone-Wolf Mentally-Ill Person. It's Not Part of a Trend, Ideology or Movement (70 points, 20 comments)
    7. Illegal Aliens in Canada Complaining About Lack of Free Housing, Cell Phones (59 points, 12 comments)
    8. canadian: "Antifa..? You know that simply means anti fascist right? AKA the 99.9% of this country." (58 points, 5 comments)
    9. Canada’s open borders and sanctuary cities defy common sense (53 points, 2 comments)
    10. Haitian Refugees Say Canadian Social Benefits Are ‘Not Enough’ (53 points, 9 comments)
  4. 1841 points, 27 submissions: fbiagent_bertmacklin
    1. Trudeau attack rallies as 'racist', urges trust in his policies. (181 points, 44 comments)
    2. We must stop the mass influx of illegals now :Gallagher (128 points, 11 comments)
    3. It's time for a tax revolution in Canada. (123 points, 50 comments)
    4. Trudeau forced to backtrack on open invitation to refugees (121 points, 15 comments)
    5. Liar Defence minister defends betraying Halifax shipyard workers after Liberals gift contract to non-Canadians. (113 points, 25 comments)
    6. The Rebel loses domain provider. Liberal censorship of issues is very real. (98 points, 22 comments)
    7. 'We want to work': Trudeau Liberals might offer Temp Work Permits to illegal border jumpers. (85 points, 19 comments)
    8. Liberal MP offered $100K hush money to victim's family. (81 points, 7 comments)
    9. Women in Ismaili Muslim sect say they have had FGM in Canada (75 points, 16 comments)
    10. Hooded anarchists storm through police ranks at Berkeley rally, assault five people (74 points, 8 comments)
  5. 1772 points, 27 submissions: VirtueSignal247
    1. Trudeau government fearful a massive refugee surge could hurt 2019 re-election campaign (211 points, 100 comments)
    2. Man gets assaulted and carried away by antifa thugs during yesterday's fiasco in Quebec (161 points, 32 comments)
    3. More than half of Canadians think Ottawa isn’t in control of refugee issue in Quebec: Ipsos poll (147 points, 11 comments)
    4. Average Canadians pay 42.5 per cent of their income in taxes: new report by the Fraser Institute (121 points, 49 comments)
    5. RCMP says it has intercepted 3,700 asylum seekers crossing illegally into Quebec since Aug. 1 (116 points, 36 comments)
    6. 'REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE': Torontonians react to Trump's Charlottesville comments (86 points, 122 comments)
    7. Canadian passports to have ‘X’ gender starting Aug. 31 (79 points, 32 comments)
    8. Edmonton could become a 'sanctuary city' for undocumented aliens - City administration will draft an 'Access without Fear' policy (78 points, 17 comments)
    9. '#BPD is asking individuals to refrain from throwing urine, bottles and other harmful projectiles at our officers' - Boston Police Dept. (72 points, 18 comments)
    10. Metro grocery chain looking at automation to offset higher Ontario minimum wage (64 points, 20 comments)
  6. 1757 points, 36 submissions: LicencedtoStump
    1. Canada is going to make all these fake refugees citizens, and waste hundreds of millions doing so. (236 points, 42 comments)
    2. Manitoba Housing evicting 18 families who haven't paid rent since 1996 - They protest (134 points, 37 comments)
    3. Friendly reminder (121 points, 9 comments)
    4. Guys we have to ban free speech. One guy at a protest attended by neo-nazis killed a person. This is the worst thing that's ever happened in human history and anyone on the political right must be punished for it! (119 points, 30 comments)
    5. Faith Goldy is an amazing journalist and friend of Metacanada. Faith, just get away from this nonsense and back to your roots because Canada needs you to keep reporting on what's important (102 points, 85 comments)
    6. By default I judge every white person as racist based on the colour of their skin, but it's ok because I'm a minority (67 points, 3 comments)
    7. OGFT true colours: Arrest and charge those who have different opinions than us (65 points, 43 comments)
    8. Faith Goldy is Back! (59 points, 26 comments)
    9. Hi gang, I think Trump is a Nazi because I'm an uninformed idiot! How can I go invade America to save them? (59 points, 11 comments)
    10. Yeah because trying to add gender and aboriginal rights into NAFTA is "taking it seriously" (56 points, 13 comments)
  7. 1214 points, 34 submissions: Wanderken
    1. Muslim woman who claims to have been victim of 'nazi' attack regularly posts anti-Israel videos on her facebook account, considers Trump to be a "terrorist" (164 points, 24 comments)
    2. Toronto comedy club vandalized, closed because of backlash to a supposedly "fascist friendly" comedy night about "free speech". (99 points, 10 comments)
    3. Indigenous anti-immigration protester attacked by pro-radical islam counter-protesters (96 points, 10 comments)
    4. CBC going ape shit about supposed nationalist gathering in Toronto (70 points, 27 comments)
    5. Google begins biggest ever crackdown on extremist YouTube videos (63 points, 41 comments)
    6. Italian police use water cannon against refugees occupying Rome square (61 points, 9 comments)
    7. Antifa morons show up at Heather Heyer funeral with pink baseball bats and shields (60 points, 12 comments)
    8. Reminder: Obama's official statement when three Baton Rouge police officers were murdered by a militant leftist (57 points, 2 comments)
    9. muslim woman taunts white male by calling him a "racist" gets sarcastic comeback now CBC is actually reporting him to be a "neo-nazi" (50 points, 56 comments)
    10. Germany, in a First, Shuts Down Left-Wing Extremist Website (44 points, 2 comments)
  8. 967 points, 21 submissions: woodenboatguy
    1. 'Common sense has left the building,' immigration lawyer says; While Irish Immigrants have to prove they can read and write in English, illiterates in the 1000's pour across our borders illegally and unimpeaded (307 points, 49 comments)
    2. Transitioning kindergarten teacher performs reveal in front of students; propagandizes with books; encourages children to become their true gender by "switching clothes" in front of others - predictable results ensue, even for California (125 points, 28 comments)
    3. Not all men just want sex. (116 points, 13 comments)
    4. Leftists and SJWs Aiming To Ruin People's Lives Mis-identify Charlottesville Marchers With Predictable Results (69 points, 7 comments)
    5. Governing by chaos: Trudeau's to dissolve Indigenous affairs department and split it into warring bodies that will ensure even more gets spent to achieve even less - but hey! no one will be blamed then (56 points, 1 comment)
    6. Two mass graves of 500 ISIS victims found in Iraq; Remind me - who are the modern day Nazis again? (56 points, 6 comments)
    7. French President Emmanuel Macron has spent $37,000 on makeup in just 3 months (55 points, 7 comments)
    8. Immigration Minister tries sticking their fingers in their ears as a new policy measure: denies that Canada was unprepared for surge of asylum seekers (32 points, 3 comments)
    9. The Rebel loses its domain provider (24 points, 12 comments)
    10. Alberta MLA Fildebrandt quits UCP caucus (21 points, 3 comments)
  9. 947 points, 43 submissions: Aldebaran333
    1. Exposed: Clinton Train Paid The Young Turks $20 Million (94 points, 3 comments)
    2. Tucker Carlson: Google Cannot Be Trusted, They Must Be Regulated (81 points, 20 comments)
    3. President Putin Slams Soros For Driving America Towards Civil War (78 points, 25 comments)
    4. Martin Luther Ree (60 points, 3 comments)
    5. How's Socialism Doing in Venezuela? (57 points, 16 comments)
    6. Team Soros (48 points, 3 comments)
    7. Diversity No Longer a Strength – Justin Trudeau Oversees Largest Deportation Increase in Canadian History (38 points, 5 comments)
    8. Kindly Reminder: Barack Obama's Family Owned Slaves (38 points, 3 comments)
    9. Charlottesville False Flag Theory- Something Strange is going on. The Truth Factory (35 points, 13 comments)
    10. ANTIFA: Media Backed Terrorists (31 points, 0 comments)
  10. 904 points, 17 submissions: PraiseTheSuun
    1. Dead children used as props to pull on heart strings, or a body to be plowed down and forgotten. Savages have no place in the west. (272 points, 37 comments)
    2. People it’s inevitable, a beige horizon (115 points, 45 comments)
    3. Mother pawns 12 year old daughter off to child predator who rapes her and impregnates her twice. Canada has it's own problems, folks. (101 points, 12 comments)
    4. Drumpf is so repugnant! Brb finishing another creepy child cartoon porn drawing (96 points, 33 comments)
    5. The meaning of the word hijab is literally 'barrier', yet I'm a bad person for wanting women liberated from it (54 points, 4 comments)
    6. Civil servant claims his ex girlfriends schizophrenia made him get into child porn (48 points, 9 comments)
    7. Muslim dude in burka is a victim of hate crimes (33 points, 0 comments)
    8. Anti-Trump Gay Karaoke Night CRASHED by Crowder... as Trump! (26 points, 1 comment)
    9. It's nice that /canada mods decided who deserves what on a website full of strangers, otherwise I might think there's a double standard here (26 points, 10 comments)
    10. I admire Canadian liberals basic dictatorship, I mean China! (23 points, 2 comments)

Top Commenters

  1. Ham_Sandwich77 (2158 points, 263 comments)
  2. PraiseTheSuun (2140 points, 286 comments)
  3. barosa (1574 points, 191 comments)
  4. Shatty_McShatlord (1082 points, 198 comments)
  5. AnotherBentKnee (971 points, 137 comments)
  6. woodenboatguy (951 points, 160 comments)
  7. LicencedtoStump (901 points, 86 comments)
  8. Y2KNW (819 points, 86 comments)
  9. Treetheft55 (771 points, 162 comments)
  10. StarShitePoopers (694 points, 109 comments)

Top Submissions

  1. Alt-Left defined by theantidilluvian (350 points, 28 comments)
  2. 'Common sense has left the building,' immigration lawyer says; While Irish Immigrants have to prove they can read and write in English, illiterates in the 1000's pour across our borders illegally and unimpeaded by woodenboatguy (307 points, 49 comments)
  3. "Far-right extremist groups on the rise in Canada, expert says" - Translation: "People waking up to the far-left extremists embedded within Canada's government, academic, cultural and media realms" by www14 (284 points, 92 comments)
  4. Dead children used as props to pull on heart strings, or a body to be plowed down and forgotten. Savages have no place in the west. by PraiseTheSuun (272 points, 37 comments)
  5. [X-Post from TiA]: socialism does a survey and it's exactly what you'd expect. 48% unemployed, 61% live with their parents. by Y2KNW (269 points, 74 comments)
  6. If you laugh at this image, you are a literal nazi and should be banned from reddit. by theantidilluvian (239 points, 11 comments)
  7. Canada is going to make all these fake refugees citizens, and waste hundreds of millions doing so. by LicencedtoStump (236 points, 42 comments)
  8. Life comes at you fast.. by AbuSharmutaa (231 points, 18 comments)
  9. Quebec City anti-fascism protest declared illegal by CuzImAtWork (228 points, 58 comments)
  10. /OnGuardForThee by barosa (222 points, 30 comments)

Top Comments

  1. 154 points: ofcanada's comment in Trudeau government fearful a massive refugee surge could hurt 2019 re-election campaign
  2. 81 points: analgesic1986's comment in "Far-right extremist groups on the rise in Canada, expert says" - Translation: "People waking up to the far-left extremists embedded within Canada's government, academic, cultural and media realms"
  3. 79 points: CuzImAtWork's comment in Quebec City anti-fascism protest declared illegal
  4. 78 points: deleted's comment in Trudeau attack rallies as 'racist', urges trust in his policies.
  5. 73 points: Wanderken's comment in "Far-right extremist groups on the rise in Canada, expert says" - Translation: "People waking up to the far-left extremists embedded within Canada's government, academic, cultural and media realms"
  6. 72 points: igottashare's comment in It's time for a tax revolution in Canada.
  7. 71 points: Save_Canada's comment in Toronto-bound passenger named Mohammad tried to board Winnipeg plane with semi-automatic gun
  8. 70 points: Porphyrogennetos's comment in Trudeau government fearful a massive refugee surge could hurt 2019 re-election campaign
  9. 69 points: midnightrambler108's comment in Trudeau attack rallies as 'racist', urges trust in his policies.
  10. 66 points: deleted's comment in Transitioning kindergarten teacher performs reveal in front of students; propagandizes with books; encourages children to become their true gender by "switching clothes" in front of others - predictable results ensue, even for California
Generated with BBoe's Subreddit Stats (Donate)
submitted by subreddit_stats to subreddit_stats [link] [comments]


2017.08.12 18:28 Mocaholic It’s just 14 days till football season in Chattanooga (Chattanooga Mocs Football info)

Never been to a Chattanooga Mocs college football game? Been a while since you have? Whether you’re a recent transplant to Chattanooga, or a long time resident, this post is to inform you of the recent success of the football team, as well as inform you about the upcoming season. Yes, there is football in the south beyond the SEC. In fact, Chattanooga plays in the first televised college football this year on ESPN! Read below to learn more.
If you have never followed Chattanooga football, you are missing out, as we are currently in the best streak of the programs career. The last 3 years we have made the playoffs, and have been the Southern Conference (SoCon) champions 3 of the last 4 years. At the Football Championship Subdivision (FCS) level, there are playoffs at the end of the season as opposed to bowl games at the Football Bowl Subdivision (FBS). 24 out of 124 teams at the FCS level compete in a playoff bracket much like March Madness – winner advances, loser ends their season. It’s a blast to watch and it more exciting than no-name, low level bowl games at the FBS level.
With only 24 teams advancing, you can be 9-2 and still miss the playoffs. FCS plays 11 regular season home games, versus 12 at the FBS level.
With Chattanooga making the playoffs each of the past 3 years, our records have been:
2016: 9-4
2015: 9-4
2014: 10-4
Some people view FCS football as Division 2. It is NOT. There are a total of 4 divisions in NCAA football, in order from the big boys down is FBS, FCS, Div-2, Div-3. None the less, some people still view FCS as subpar football, but I am here to tell you that is 100% NOT the truth. These boys can PLAY! Most positions may not be as big as the FBS guys, but there are some tremendous athletes at this level, and some advance info the NFL. Currently there are 292 FCS players on NFL rosters, with 6 of those players having played at Chattanooga.
Every year, FCS teams face off against larger FBS schools for money, yet there are sometimes upsets. May I remind you of Appalachian State beating Michigan in 2007? What about Georgia Southern beating Florida? The last 6 North Dakota State FBS games have been upsets – to the point no one will book them anymore. These smaller school need the $ for their programs, but sometimes pull off the upset, even with a team made up of less scholarship players (NCAA limit is 85 for FBS, vs 63 for FCS).
Chattanooga has gained enough respect that we have several players from FBS schools have transferred in recent years, including Arizona State, Auburn, and Tennessee.
Let’s move onto this year. We have a new coach and a new athletic director.
We start the season on a neutral site in Montgomery, AL against an out of conference rival and FCS powerhouse, Jacksonville State. Never heard of Jacksonville State (JSU)? You should – they competed in the FCS national Championship 2 years ago, and only lost to 5-time FCS champions North Dakota State. They also took Auburn to overtime two years ago. Chattanooga has played JSU four times in recent years, losing all four games by 3 or less, or in overtime. Is this the year we can pull off the win? Let’s hope so!
If you can’t make the drive down to Montgomery, AL, no worries, this game will be aired on ESPN, 7:30ET, Saturday August 26th for the first televised football game in the country!
Chattanooga starts the season ranked No. 13; JSU No. 6. This should be an excellent game for any football fan.
Next we head to Baton Rouge, Louisiana to take on LSU for our big money game of the year. From there, we host our first football game on September 16th against Tennessee-Martin. Chattanooga plays 5 home games this year. Our schedule is as follows:
08.26.17 No. 6 Jacksonville State Montgomery Kickoff Classic Montgomery, Ala. TV: ESPN
09.09.17 7:30 p.m. LSU Baton Rouge, La. TV: SEC Network (Alternate)
09.16.17 HOME - 6:00 p.m. UT-Martin, Chattanooga, Tenn. - Finley Stadium - TV: ESPN3
09.23.17 AWAY - 1:30 p.m. VMI Lexington, Va.
09.30.17 HOME - 6:00 p.m. Western Carolina, Chattanooga, Tenn. Finley Stadium TV: ESPN3
10.07.17 HOMECOMING - 4:00 p.m. Furman Chattanooga, Tenn. Finley Stadium TV: ESPN3
10.14.17 – AWAY 3:30 p.m. – Mercer - Macon, Ga.
10.21.17 HOME - 2:00 p.m. - No. 16 The Citadel Military Appreciation Day Chattanooga, Tenn. Finley Stadium TV: ESPN3
10.28.17 AWAY - 3:00 p.m. No. 19 Samford Birmingham, Ala. TV: ESPN3
11.04.17 AWAY - 1:30 p.m. No. 11 Wofford Spartanburg, S.C. TV: ESPN3
11.18.17 HOME - 2:00 p.m. ETSU Chattanooga, Tenn. Finley Stadium TV: ESPN3
A few things to note about the games. Chattanooga is one of the four teams in the Southern Conference that are ranked in the top 20 in the FCS polls. It’s quickly becoming a tough conference with several teams advancing into the playoffs. I personally wouldn’t be surprised if Mercer joins the group soon as well. There are no guaranteed wins in this conference.
Also worth noting are the start times. Fans have requested to have later games earlier in the season, and the athletic department has listened. We have two 6pm games, one 4pm, and two 2pm games later in the year, once the temperatures drop.
Get this - Season tickets start at just $90! I believe alumni discounts are also available. For ticket info, go to the main athletic site at www.gomocs.com .
I realize reddit is mainly a younger crowd, and hopefully some college students read this. Students – you get in for FREE with your UTC id. That’s right - $0. There is no reason not to be there!
For those that do not know, we play off-campus at Finley Stadium just off of Central Avenue near the south side of town. The stadium holds 22K people, and serves beer! Yes, that’s right, last year, on the west end zone, the stadium served craft beer ($6 for 16oz draft) with a good selection. There are also your normal concessions, as well as a Zaxby’s inside the stadium. Finlay for years hosted the FCS National Championship game, but in recent years, that game has moved to Texas.
Now onto one of the favorite aspects of game day – the tailgating!
Tailgating for Chattanooga has exploded in recent years, and for good reason. Not only is the football program doing well, but Chattanooga also hosts one of the more unique tailgating experiences in the country – the Pavilion. For those not familiar, the Pavilion hosts the Chattanooga Market and other events during the year, but on Saturdays during football season, the Pavilion is filled with game day tailgating groups partaking in festivities, rain or shine. Since the Pavilion is covered, it’s always nice inside!
If you refer to my username, I help run the Mocaholics Tailgating Club. We have been tailgating since 2005, which is far from the longest group there. Several groups have been doing it since the 80s. We are also in the Pavilion, where we have TVs, power, and bathrooms.
The Moc Walk is about 2.5 hours before kick-off, which is when the football players walk through the Pavilion on their way to the locker room. You can high-five the players and cheer on the team. About 35 minutes before kick-off, the marching band performs in the Pavilion, and marches into the stadium. That’s about the time we start finishing our last beers, pack up the tailgate trailer, and start heading in for kick-off. The Pavilion is right next to the stadium, so it’s really convenient and a short walk to our seats.
The Pavilion (as well as the game) is very much a family friendly environment. There are inflatable slides for the small kids, communal TVS for earlier game watching, and full service bathrooms (not port-o-pottys). Not only would I suggest coming to a game, but get there early!
In addition to the Pavilion, many people tailgate in the north parking lot as well. The local times free press also did an article on tailgating at Chattanooga. Here is the link: http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/life/entertainment/story/2015/sep/30/xtreme-tailgatingsmoking-whole-pig-hauling-30/327619/ . Rob and Paul, first phot, tailgate in the spot next to us. They always go all out, every game.
There you have it. I hope you found this post informative. Please ask any questions you may have and I hope I can either answer them, or at least point you in the right direction. I am a diehard fan and I wanted to take this opportunity to inform you of a fun experience that you may not have known about in Chattanooga. SEC football dominates the local landscape, but I wanted to point out that there is other college football options right here in our own hometown. Come out for a game and see if you like it as much as we do! We hope to see you there, and if you come to the pavilion, stop by and say hello.
submitted by Mocaholic to Chattanooga [link] [comments]


2017.07.27 19:35 Sereden91 Ok, here we go!

warn you now, this is long, and it will be impossible to include all the details. will try to TLDR at the bottom and sum it up best I can
Me (26) and my wife (24) have been together for ten years. I used to take a greyhound bus every other weekend to see her (She lived three hours away) and spend time with her. For the most part everything was wonderful. She was always very depressed but when I was there with her seemed like a completely different person. My mom paid for the tickets to go down everytime, which ended up causing alot of friction.
For the most part the first two years, we never even really argued (current wife, and I). Then she moved to Oklahoma with her dad (we lived in Louisiana), and me being a stubborn in love 17 year old, had my dad come down (Also lived in OK), pack me up while my mom was gone, and move up there too. On the plus side, my mom didn't really seem to mind too much. We now lived about an hour apart from each other. We ended up seeing each other less. My dad never really wanted to drive me to see her, and didnt seem interested in taking me to get my license.
We started fighting alot more, and one thing that I still remember is one fight we had because my step mom had one of her female friends over (My step mom is entirely immature so hangs out with people my age or younger) and she is convinced that EVERY female that I talk to, or talks to me is trying to have sex with me. So we get in an argument about it and she just yells out "I would be ok if my boyfriend weren't a manwhore!" at this point in my life, She is the ONLY person I've had sex with, even talked about having sex with (not because of religion or anything like that. Just never was interested with anyone else) so clearly this pretty much broke my heart.
Fast forward, I join the National Guard before I graduate High School that year. she seems real supportive and happy for me. We go down to visit her family in Louisiana for the summer, so I go with her before I leave. A perfect summer. I dont have any other way to describe it. great sex, great times, and just alot of fun. I leave, everyone's upset. She moves back in with her mom. We send letters back and forth, talk on the phone usually for an hour every sunday. My dad goes down to pick her up so she can be there at my Basic Training graduation. All of this is damn near perfect.
Get to AIT. (Job training basically) we have alot more free time than we used to, but I spend it all on the phone or computer with her. Hardly leave my room at all because she seems upset with me if I don't. Her depression seems to be getting worse and she starts cutting again (Bad habit she stopped doing when we got together) and I confide in her some male on male encounters I've had previously in my life (Not all were exactly consensual) and she seems to not only like it, but accept it. Which was a giant relief for me because I had been terrified to tell her for so long. (This is going to play a huge part later)
Then her and her friend get a great idea to make a fake account on a website we use to talk to each other (Pretty much just a geeky forum site) and start sending me messages out the blue. Straight to trying to pretty much sext me through these messages. to which I just ignore at first. I keep getting mesages for maybe an upwards of two hours, along with my wife texting me getting me extremely worked up sexually. Finally my better sense gives in to my dick and I start talking sexy back to the fake account. As soon as I do I get a call from her crying saying her and her friend set that up to try to get me to cheat.
honestly I was devastated. Both in my lack of control and discipline, and her lack of trust and her willingness to try to manipulate me like that. I had devoted the past three years of my life to her and she felt the need to do something like that. Looking back I know we should have called it quits then and there, but we didn't. I actually bought a ring and proposed to her over our Christmas break, and everything seemed to go back to normal.the cheating was hardly ever brought up again, and we both seemed to be able to move past it. I never told anyone about all this because I knew where it would go.
I graduate AIT, my dad moved out of Oklahoma, so I had nowhere to go, so they had to drive up two days late and pick me up, and take me down to Baton Rouge. I was enrolled in college in Oklahoma State, and was just waiting for the semester to start. Got my license, bought my first truck with my sign on bonus, would spend a couple weeks every now and then at my wife's mom and stepdads house. Still everything going great again. we start talking about the future, kids, etc. She's still in school and is having some trouble with alot of things guys (My wife is absolutely beautiful. so guys trying to pick up on her was an hourly thing), schoolwork, problems at home (Mom is an on and of druggy, her stepdad was an abusive corrupt lawyer) so she was just waiting for the summer to move back to OK with her dad.
we move back, still going great. I go to AT (Two week training deal in the summer) and we go up to Minessota for it. Real nice btw, not sure what part we were in but it was right off the lake, and it was beautiful! About a week in, we have a civilian day, pretty much everybody wears regular clothes and gets drunk off their ass. I don't drink. AT ALL by now. Partly because i'm underage, partly because of my dads issues with drinking (HUGE alcoholic and always gets loud and angry) so I've stayed away from it. The guys convince me to just let loose, and I get..... real bad drunk. I end up texting her mom talking about how great she looks and that I would love to have sex with her and just.... it was a mess. I didn't even remember it until I woke up the next day and seen the texts still in my phone. I apologized to her and just tried my best to ignore it and not drink anymore while I'm there.
Few days later I get a picture from a number I don't know (area code is where my wifes family is from) I couldnt really tell what the picture was, just looked like skin, so I just kinda text back saying "Sorry, think you got the wrong number?" I get a text back, it's my wifes step sister, whom I have never talked to a day in my life, even when were around each other. She tells me she got my number from Ashtons phone and wanted to talk to me because she always thought I was sexy (Big red flag in my mind right there) I am not a particularly attractive or unnatractive person in my opinion. I don't remember the exact conversation (This was 6 years ago) bit it followed the lines of me telling her we don't really have a reason to talk and her going on and on about what she wants me to do her.
By now I know something is off. No one who you've never talked to is going to try so hard to keep talking to you like this when you show NO interest whatsoever. In my mind I start to think this is Ashtons doing. So I decide to be a smart ass, and play along. Sure enough, first text I send back, Ashton calls crying. miraculously she found out just SECONDS after I send it, kinda like she was sitting RIGHT there. she denies it, tells me how much of a piece of shit I am, and that she knows about the texts I sent to her mom. Proceeds to tell me it's over, which I'm kind of ok with at this point. Her steps sister texts me saying she's sorry and that Ashton was the one that put her up to it. so just confirmed my suspicions anyway.
Lo and Behold, a few days later, we get back together. Our sex life takes a..... strange? Wrong maybe, turn. She starts talking about how she sometimes thinks of just giant orgies and people just taking turns with her. I'm not comfortable but I dont want to hurt her or upset her so I play along. college starts, I get put on a floor with a bunch of other nerds (I may not have mentioned it but I am nerd to the extreme) so It's nice to be around people like me. I have all this planned out and actually get active, playing racquetball, going to the gym, being social with people for once. Driving to visit Ashton usually every other weekend when I could afford it out of my drill check or if someone sent me money. Get a hotel room, go out, stuff like that. Was still pretty nice. One weekend we go to the fair with her dad and step mom, things have been up and down lately. All she talks about is all her male friends and is always busy with JROTC. I'm honestly uncomfortable with the male friends, just one that she talks about a bit too much but don't say anything, and I encourage her about her JROTC. The fair was great though, we had alot of fun, and it was a good weekend.
I wake up that wednsday after, to her dumping me. Out the blue, a three page text, saying it's all the stuff that happened at AT over a year ago, that was never even brought up. I'm devastated at this point. I thought things were fine and we were still going to get married. I slip into a giant depression, stop going to class, hanging out with people, eating, all I do is sleep pretty much. I think about killing myself (Stupid me) but it doesnt go past self harm. Despite all this, I still go see her, we still have sex ALOT, and it's like were together.
I then find out, 15 minutes after she dumped me, her and the guy I was always hearing about were together. I confront her and it becomes a "Oh it was a spur of the moment kind of thing" yeah bullshit. This is a couple weeks after, so the whole time we've been doing this "quasi-together" thing she's been doing it all with someone else too. I become just.. lose it. I start flirting with an old girlfriend, flirting with a guy I know, the self harm gets worse. I think I literally lost my mind for a while. On top of it all, deployment orders to Afghanistan. so it was not a good time for me. She is still texting me, messaging me, about how much she loves me, wants me, needs to feel me, etc.
Me and my old girlfriend are still talking, and we mess around once, before I leave to do my deployment training. Me and Ashton are still in contact, mostly me being angry that she's still trying to pull me around and use me as a crutch, while she does exactly that and tells me it's not like that. a few weeks before I actually go overseas, she says she broke up with the guy and wants us to be back together. Save the "you dumb-ass" remarks, I say yes. Now I don't stop talking to the ex girlfriend right away though..... I did eventually.... but not when I should have. I do cut complete contact with her as soon as we stop. our deployment gets changed to Kuwait two weeks before we leave.
We get there in July, I buy a laptop, some (shitty) internet, and we talk as much as we can with a nine hour time difference and her still in School. She has moved to Missouri now, to live with her grandparents (In ase you can't tell, we move ALOT) I go on my leave in December, we drive to Hot Springs, and get married. It was a great honeymoon, and as perfect as I could ask for. We get our first tattoos, eat expensive food, take alot of pictures, have alot of sex, etc, etc. (I keep mentioning alot of sex, believe me, it ties in later) I go back to finish the last four months and we're both heartbroken.
well lo and behold, she gets on her sister facebook one day and sees messages between me and her from god knows when, and takes, and posts them straight to facebook. No talking to me about it first or anything. Well, ex girlfriend sees them, and tells her we had a thing going to. Everything goes to shit, and it looks like it's all over. She eventually calms down and says she would like to stay married and works things out. We agree to that, and I delete every non family member female from my facebook to make her more comfortable. She has my password to it, and my email address, everything. I know I broke her trust and had to make up for it.
Deployment ends, I come back. I ordered alot of stuff while I was deployed so I stay in Louisiana for a week to catch up with family there and get all my stuff together I bought, go to Oklahoma to visit my dad and he tells me an Uncle who lives there is having heart surgery. He's gonna go visit and the family wanted to see me too. They hadn't seen me since I was maybe ten or younger so I agree. My wife throws a fit. She can't understand why I would stay for family I don't really know, and it's just a fight from hell about it. I stay anyway, catch up with them, and leave once the surgery is done and everything is ok. I pack up all my stuff (Fits in the back of a GMC sonoma) and head to Missouri to move there.
Get there, living with her grandparents, on unemployment until I find a job, she's going to school. Things feel normal, again, alot of sex, constantly. Can't find a job there, so my dad offers a job working with him in Arkansas, I initially say no, but the more I think about it, and longer no job shows up, I think more on it. Talk it over with my wifes grandpa. She doesnt want to go, cant stand my dad or stepmom, which is understandable. I love my dad, but my step mom is a miserable, abusive, pot head. but her grandpa says that if it needs to be done, it needs to be done. Well they kick her out..... yeah. So we move to her other grandparents in Oklahoma. I get a job as a shift leader, with a fast track to assistant manager, at a little ice cream place there. We find out my wife is pregnant with our first son, besides the living arrangments for now, everything is looking great.
The place I worked at, let you charge things to your check (Fruit, ice cream, veggies, etc) so usually I would bring my wife some pears, apples, ice cream, whatever she was craving when I left at night. one night I was in a hurry, and just thought to myself "No one will notice if I just grab some pears, and ice cream out the door". Well I was wrong, came in the next day, worked a couple hours, pulled to the side, and fired. It was extremely upsetting, because I knew I failed myself, her, and my unborn child. I cried for.... damn near all day. Got back on unemployment, but didn't find another job, so moved down with my dad to work at this "promised" job.
Was much less promising than thought. Instead of an actual job, I got paid to help clean up the shop he worked in, and do little things until it was all done. Couldn't work more than 40 hours, lived in a garage at my dad with my wife, though it was pretty comfortable. my friend got me hired on in my hometown selling vehicle parts. less money, but it was steady.
Moved in with my grandma, worked there, had our first child. a boy we named Danny Christopher Scott (after my grandpa, and her dad). She started visiting her family alot. I had to drive to Oklahoma every month for my drill for the Guard (Six hours there, six back) so she would stay with her family there until I came back up, so the first seven months of my sons life I didn't get to spend alot of time with him. When they were at my grandmas house, I did all the work for Danny. bathed, fed, changed diapers, put to sleep, got up with at night, etc. just to be at work at 7 in the morning everyday. I hate to say it, but this made me extremely resentful, even now it does. All she did was sleep, and leave when she could.
My grandmother told me that we couldn't stay at her house much longer and that we needed to get our own place (Understandable. I was a grown man with a family and a job) and it started to stress me out even more. One day in walmart I was walking past a bunch of house stuff.... and I don't know why, but decided to try to steal a bunch of it for when we got a house of our own. It was extremely stupid and I haven't stolen anything since college. They got me on the way out the store, I had to pay 100 dollars to bail myself out, and since it was a little town, everyone knew as soon as it happened. Went to work monday, got let go because of things missing from the store which fell on me. I didn't take anything from the store, and I found it later it was my coworker doing some real shady stuff, but it happened and I was let go.
more problems for me and my wife, always arguing whether she was there or not. my dad had another job lined up in Baton Rouge, so we moved down there. This one actually worked and I got hired on doing chemical trailer repair for 13 an hour, working at least 60 hours a week. It was a godsend. We stayed in some shitty run down trailer park for 400 a month, all bills paid.My truck had broke down a while ago, so I rode to work with my dad who lived a few trailers down. Despite the roof leaking, the AC not working hardly, and wasps, it was the best thing ever. I had my family and we were making it. After a few months and getting a vehicle figured out, we decide to look for apartments. We found one that my wife had her heart set on. It was a bit pricey for my liking, 700 a month for a two bedroom. So I tried to convince her we just needed a one bedroom, which was 550. It was only me her, and our son, so I figured one bedroom would still be plenty. He wasnt even a year old yet, but she wouldn't have it. Had to be the two bedroom, so being the beta male that I have come to learn I was, I folded and we signed the lease. We had found out she was pregnant again.
I was still doing almost everything for our son, though he was crawling and playing by himself more. When she got pregnant again it got worse. I had to do dishes, laundry, clean, take care of Danny, and work. It was overwhelming honestly, yet again, I began to feel the resent coming back that I had managed to overlook for so long. we began to fight alot more often again. My ankle started giving me problems (Have had a bad ankle from club foot surgery as a baby but never really bothered me until now) I think mostly from walking on concrete in bad shoes all day, so I started missing alot of work for it. We were already barely affording food, the apartment, and bills, so that just put me entirely behind. I had to ask my dad for alot of money, help him on side jobs, but it still wasnt enough.
Our rent bill got to be 1200 dollars one month due to late fees, eviction costs, etc,so I had the choice to either pay it all, or use that money to move and start a new job. We talked it over, and decided to move instead. We moved back to my hometown and I drove an hour to work every morning and back, doing the same thing. Their trailers were a little different and i had trouble adjusting to everything right away. So the guy training me proceeded to insult on me pretty much a daily basis to where I dreaded even having to go to work now. Eventually I was fired because he told them i had no clue what I was doing. We were living in my uncles trailer with my friend at the time. Got on unemployment, my wife found a job at the nursing home in town (Got her GED and CNA license while in Baton Rouge) so we had a decent income with us two combined.
we had our second child for around six months at this time. Like the first, I did everything, but now for two kids. My family seen it, her family seen it, my friend seen it. I think resentment is too kind of a word for how I felt now. My wife acted helpless and powerless to do anything outside of work. I drove her to work at 1:30 in the evening, and went with the kids to pick her up at 10 at night. sometimes we would sit for an hour waiting. She started acting different. Keeping her phone close AT ALL times, which she never really did, she used to lose it quite often. she always had her head buried in it, and started hanging out with people who have a pretty bad reputation around town. Finally one day when she wasnt around her phone, I looked.
She had texts to a guy she worked with (Dated my cousin for ten years) doing nothing but bitching about me, about being the only one to work, and asking him if he "Liked her butt in those pants" I lost it. I had been taking care of our kids alone, doing everything, so she could go to work and flirt and fuck around with some fat fuck (I know I'm not innocent by any means of flirting. Neither of us were at this point. After we got married I did straighten up and never even entertained a female AT ALL) She told me it wasn't like that at all and that a coworker told her they caught him looking. I still told her it was innaproptiate even if it didnt mean anything flirtatious.
She pretty much told me I was being stupid, and just paranoid, and continued to talk to the guy. We got cut a GREAT deal on a house from a close family friend. a rent to own deal, 2 acres in town, 3 bed, one bath house, for 15000, 300 a month. Its older, but you cant beat that deal if you try. We jumped on it, moved in, she got her own license because I got a job at the boat plant in town. I worked 6-2:45, she 2-10 so it was stresfull with one vehicle making that work and we never spent anytime together due to her weird days off schedule, and what few days we did get to spend together, she spent sleeping constantly, or being short with me and the kids.
She had also signed up for the Guard herself and was due to leave for Basic training in 4 months. We talked about it, she made more than me, we didn't get any time, and we could make it on what she made. so we decided for me to quit and stay home with the kids while she worked like it used to be so we get time before she leaves. She ended up working more and more, and spending time out when she was done working. Yet again, she started talking about another guy she had met through someone at work, and it was always "Yeah, he brought me some food, so you dont have tonight" "he let me use his jacket because it got too cold" etc, etc. the usual giant red flags you see and hear. I ignored them for as long as I could and tried to trust her.
One night she stayed at her friends house, they were supposed to go out to the casinos in town, but ended up canceling to stay at her place and drink. She was sending me pictures of her being all dressed up in sexy dresses her friend had. then told me that the guy was there. She was supposed to be home around 1:30. She quit texting around 12, and dissapeared until 3:30. I stayed up all night worried, the kids were being restless and difficult. She finally came in drunk as hell, and ended up having sex with me, and it all just felt..... off.
Couple nights later, she is glued to her phone, even worse. So she goes to take a shower, I grab it and look. Text from the guy "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave a mark on you" her reply "It's fine, I don't regret it all" I confront her. I get fed some bullshit "It was just a kiss, and he kissed along my neck, I was drunk, I'm so sorry" I don't believe it of course for a second, but I let it go because somehow despite everything I love her and thought she loved me. Over the summer her other sister comes to stay with us for a month. I get a little drunk and don't really make a move on her or anything, but we just talk about games, and stuff like that, and I just tell her she grew up to be pretty cool, and (jokingly) tell her if me and Ashton don't work out, I'm gonna get with her. She's 17, so it was a complete joke, inappropriate yes, but not serious.
So my wife gets on my computer, snoops through Facebook, sees the messages, and immediartely tells me I'm trying to fuck her little sister. Proceeds to insult me, push on me, tells me to get the fuck out, etc. So I pack my stuff up and leave to let her calm down. Come back later, and we make up and try to get along.
She leaves for Basic, and everything I had seen her telling guys just hang over me. I stay in the house constantly because the vehicle has crapped out on us. I take care of the boys alone constantly, and only get letters from her once every two weeks. I'm having a tough time, but I'm hanging in there so far. She graduates Basic, and due to a big fiasco, we cant make it there for it. She goes to AIT.
She prettu much starts to just ignore me. She is always posting thing son facebook with friends, (Mostly guys) and never anything about our kids, doesn't attempt to try to video chat us, and barely has time to call. Her family starts to talk to me about it, I don't really know what to tell them. Her and one of her girl friends have a little thing go on, and I'm fine with it honestly. I know she's sexually frustrated, she sends me videos, win win right?
She ends up getting caught at a hotel with a big group of people that she was "drug along to" and gets in a lot of trouble (thats where people go to have sex) and they give her an article 15 (something you REALLY dont want on your record) but remove when they talk to her about it and think she needs therapy. So she ends up not coming home when she is supposed to. She has been gone 8 months at this point.
One night she is crying to me, upset, and I'm telling her it's ok. She keeps saying I dont understand and that she's so sorry. I just keep asking what. She admits to having sex with Chance (Fat fuck at work) guy that was at the friends house (Knew that one deep down anyway) and messing around with a guy that eventually tried to force himself onto her in Arizona (where her AIT is) I break down crying because even when you know the truth, having it spoken still hurts alot worse.
I still try to push through. she's going to her therapy there, I keep trying to supress the anger, and hurt, and tears. Finally it breaks one day and I say i want a divorce. She tries to talk me out of it, I ignore her for two weeks. Only talking to her about the kids, or finances. After two weeks, I get ahold of myself and try to talk to her. She thinks I've found someone, which I haven't. She says she hasn't either, but then 30 minutes later tells me she's with someone.
So clearly she lied, I found out she's been talking to this guy for months now. I think at this point I begin to hate her. All the time she told me she was so sorry and never meant to hurt me, and just wanted us to be ok, she was STILL talking to other people. I start talking to someone on facebook who I find I like quite a bit. I don't attempt to make a relationship though. She's going through a divorce and is clearly hung up on her ex, just as I am. Recipe for distater.
Ashton finds out and just loses her shit. I begin to realize she doesn't want me, but doesnt want anyone else to have me. Begins to tell me that I sexually abused her (Our sex life was..... wilder than average, but she would tell me she LOVES it) that I was emotionally abusive, I admit to that now, after reading more. I feel she played a big part in it too though, but I'm to blame also. She also claims I physically abused her (I have never laid a hand on her. I watched my mother be beat for years previously and I would never put my hands on a woman in anger) and then proceeds to tell me I took advantage of her by not working, which we both agreed to happen, and that she is the only one who supported our family. which to an extent she's a right, when I quit the last time, no unemployment since I quit.
She still continues to tell me she loves me and is heartbroken over us divorcing. the usual stuff she did when she left years ago. it goes back and forth like this for months. She finally gets released and comes back. she has nowhere to stay, so she stays at the house. I try to stay out of her way, because any kind of interaction leads to fighting.
We try therapy a couple sessions, and I finally tell her she has to pick me or Justin (the other guy) because she is in between and its not right or working. She picks Justin, just to have him tell her its not going to work (He's in Kentucky) and that distance wouldn't work. So she of course goes "Heartbroken" after six months of on and off with this guy three times already.
After telling me we could never work anyway, she begins to "magically" think we can, at this point I really don't want to. I've gotten used to being a single parent and I'm realizing how much of a train wreck she is, but she seems upset that I don't want to. So I agree, at this point she has told me "I will never feel comfortable around you, cuddling, being touched, sex, or anything" yet the first night we have sex again, its the way it always has been. Dirty, hard, etc. All the ways I "sexually abused" her before that she didn't want but is begging for again.
We resume normal sex, maybe every other night. Then I find out she is STILL entertaining guys over facebook. So I call it quits, kick her our eventually because it's not working for either of us like this. She gets an apartment in town, her friend lets her use her vehicle. She's going to "get her life straight and prove me wrong" that was over a year ago.
We have tried again, she moved back in, sex was non existant almost (3 times in six months, two of which were the same day) She stayed up late at night and would ignore me to play xbox with her male friends. Her friends she work with pretty much insult me every chance they get, insult her for being with me. so I call it quits yet again because to me it seemed she had no real interest in earning my trust again, or actually trying.
We get in a huge fight one night. She is now throwing things at me, books, dvd cases, etc. following me around the house pushing me, hitting me on the chest and back. She goes to my bookshelf and attempts to flip it over. at this point I wrap my arms around her. Just to hopefully make her stop. She goes nuts and starts throwing herself around so I tighten up to keep her from hitting the bookshelf. She then calls the cops on me! I go outside to wait for them, in my mind I have done NOTHING wrong except try to stop her from destroying anymore of my property. They show up, I tell them the truth. exactly what I just typed. I'm assuming she doesn't, because the cops proceed to tell me, the first person to "Place hands on their spouse" is the guilty party, and that I'm now looking at felony domestic battery. Kids are asleep in the bed, they have no clue anything is happening.
The van for the correctional center is nowhere near town, so that's the only thing that stopped me from going. I again, told her she "needed to get the fuck out of my house" she cries, tells me she "doesnt mean or want to be this way" I still make her leave. She spends everyday telling me how sorry she is, blah blah blah.
After around two months she tells me she has been thinking about dating again. I tell her thats great and I hope she finds someone who can take care of her. She thanks me, and says she hopes too and that she thinks she found someone. I'm happy for her. Despite everything she's the mother of my children. For at least our childrens sake I want her to have a succesful life.
My curiosity gets the best of me, because I think I know who she's talking about (guy she played xbox with everynight) so I just facebook him. Turns out they had been together over a month now. In this month she has kissed me, flirted with me, told me she still loves me, etc. So now again, I am pissed, say some very choice words to her. The usual, betrayed reaction. Our counselor made us PROMISE that if we got involved with someone, tell the other so there's nothing like THIS situation later. Yet again, I was lied to. I gave up for a while. She would text me about how depressed she was, how the relationship isn't going the way she'd like, that she wants to be with me but is scared.
Three weeks ago, we agreed to try again. She has already gone through my phone to look at facebook messages while telling me she was wanting to "Pick a song on my phone" By now.... I am drinking whiskey on a regular basis. smoke pot maybe, once every two weeks, I can tell I'm losing control of my life. In two years, she has kept our children two weeks, one week was WITH her boyfriend who she had been with for two months. But I agree. She had a friend die from her unit monday night, and she didn't want to be alone last night. So she packed a bag, and xbox and came over. I got..... drunk last night. 11 beers in an hour drunk, and I was worried her friend might have been more than a friend and just asked. she exploded on me. Which led to a fight, me punching the wall (Pretty sure my thumb is broke right now) and her going home. She is now saying she is done completely, and if she is then I am too.
I moved EVERY year of my life, different schools with each move almost. I don't have friends really. I don't understand basic human things like mourning. It sounds stupid but I feel so far removed from people that I just couldn't comprehend her being upset over someone dying. I feel stupid for asking and knew I should have stayed shut up. I tried explaining that but she just turned it into me thinking she's a whore, and I haven't told her, but that's all she has shown to me in the past three years.
I know it wasn't right for me to ask that, and I'm addressing my drinking. this broken thumb is kind of a big wake up call to me. I'm just a wreck and I have no support from family, or my few "friends" i've managed to keep. I just feel like I'm losing my mind. She blamed everyone for everything that's ever happened to me and it's all fallen on me. It has sucked my will to live or anything. I don't know what to do right now.
I am currently enrolled in a community college for Healthcare management, trying to get an actual career instead of the jobs I've been working. I'm done drinking, and smoking, and trying to be more active with my boys.
TLDR: me and my wife/ex wife have made a complete mess of our lives and relationship. Have two kids I have always, and still do everything for. Began covering up my problems with alcohol, realize that it was making more problems for me. She blames me for EVERYTHING that has gone wrong in her life. I really do want to be free but I still love her. How can I let go of this abusive, toxic person, and get my life where it needs to be?
If you read ALL of that, then Kudos. I will take any advice, just keep it constructive please. I'm well aware of how much of a push over i've been and how alot of this does fall on my shoulders. Whether it was by my sheer imcompetence as a man, husband, and person in general, or things I knew better than anyway. so save that part of the speech please. Thanks guys, and probably some gals!
submitted by Sereden91 to Marriage [link] [comments]


2017.04.26 03:48 portlane Death Notices for Tuesday, April 25 2017

WHO DIED TODAY?
Clark County (Columbian):
Albright, Gloria Joan,86, Washougal, died April 20, 2017. Brown’s Funeral Home, 360-834-3692. Amadisto, Leon B.,64, Ridgefield, died on April 18, 2017. All County Cremation and Burial Services, 360-718-7948. Athy, Patricia Ann,60, Brush Prairie, died April 21, 2017. Hamilton-Mylan Funeral Home, 360-694-2537. Bose, Genevieve “Gen” C.,91, Vancouver, died April 20, 2017. Evergreen Memorial Gardens Funeral Chapel, 360-892-6060. Breaker-Goerig, Trudy R.,70, Camas, died April 2, 2017. Straub’s Funeral Home & Columbia River Cremation, 360-834-4563. Bush, Nadine Edmarna,85, Vancouver, died April 23, 2017. Hamilton-Mylan Funeral Home, 360-694-2537. Gravatt, Helen Louise,73, Vancouver, died April 23, 2017. Evergreen Memorial Gardens Funeral Chapel, 360-892-6060. Graves, Orin Edward,63, Vancouver, died April 10, 2017. Crown Memorial Centers, 503-783-3393. Kivinen, Virginia Hilda Johanna,92, died April 12, 2017. Layne’s Funeral Home, 360-687-3143. Reynolds, Raymond S.,92, Vancouver, died April 21, 2017. Cascadia Cremation & Burial Services, 360-213-2060. Roberts, Delwyn L.,80, Vancouver, died April 22, 2017. All County Cremation and Burial Services, 360-718-7948. Silver-Carroll, Suzanne,78, Battle Ground, died April 19, 2017. Layne’s Funeral Home, 360-687-3143. Stewart, Megan E.,36, Vancouver, died April 19, 2017. Cascadia Cremation & Burial Services, 360-213-2060. Tukaylo, Ganna A.,92, Vancouver, died April 22, 2017. All County Cremation and Burial Services, 360-718-7948. Walker, Betty K.,89, Vancouver, died April 22, 2017. Cascadia Cremation & Burial Services, 360-213-2060. 
Portland (Oregonian):
Helena N. Burgess
Oct. 1, 1941 - Apr. 23, 2017
Helena 'Lee' Cecilia (O'Driscoll) Burgess passed away Sunday, April 23, 2017, surrounded by her daughter, Patty and husband, Don.
Helena was born in New York City Oct. 1, 1941 and lived in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania before moving to Portland, in 2006. She was a Registered Nurse and worked in industrial health at various businesses in the New Jersey area, including Block Drug, Continental Airlines and the New York Times. She loved volunteering all her life, and in Portland she volunteered as a driver for the VA, and an adult care home Ombudsman.
She is survived by her beloved daughters, Kathi Lanser of New Jersey and Patty Read of Clackamas; step-children, Teri Hall of Tillamook and Duane Burgess of Timber; three granddaughters, Kristi, Kayli and Adriana, all of New Jersey; and her beloved husband, Donald Burgess of Portland.
Services are private. Donations in Helena's memory may be made to
;(function() { var adKeyValue = 't='; adKeyValue += escape('clio=STJ'); adKeyValue += escape('&cobrand=oregon'); adKeyValue += escape('&linktext=St. Jude Childrens Research Hospital'); adKeyValue += escape('&linkurl=https://shop.stjude.org/GiftCatalog/donation.do?cID=13522&pID=18290&frequency_selected=2&memoryFirstName=Helena&memoryLastName=Burgess&sc_cid=ptn1'); adKeyValue += escape('&fn=Helena'); adKeyValue += escape('&ln=Burgess'); var adClkUrl = 'http://pubads.g.doubleclick.net/gampad/jump?iu=/423686928/prod/obit-aff/obit-standard/clio-inline-1&' + adKeyValue + '&sz=1x1&c=1541393850'; var adImpUrl = 'http://pubads.g.doubleclick.net/gampad/ad?iu=/423686928/prod/obit-aff/obit-standard/clio-inline-1&' + adKeyValue + '&sz=1x1&c=1541393850'; document.write("St. Jude Childrens Research Hospital<" + 'img' + " src='" + adImpUrl + "' style='width=1px; height=1px; display:inline;' />"); }()); 
or Alzheimer's research at
alz.org
.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
In Loving Memory
Samuel Isaac Elkins
June 15, 1991 - April 29, 2010
My Sammy, Dad's "Bud", exceptional big brother, nep- hew, cousin, grandson, and friend, how we miss you!
Your light will never fade, you are too bright of a star to ever diminish.
We have survived seven years without you on Earth, knowing that someday we will all be together forever.
We carry on doing the things you loved in your memory;
Riding quads, wakeboarding, listening to loud music, burn-outs, smiling, and enjoying life and all the beauty it has to offer.
Please join us in celebrating our beloved Son, from 11a.m. - 5p.m., Saturday, April 29, 2017 at the Sam Elkins Memorial Car Wash.
Free live band and bbq.
D&R Masonry Restoration 8890 S.E. McLoughlin Blvd.
Milwaukie, OR 97222.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Lillian Marie Grendele
April, 13, 1936 - April 25, 2017
Lillian Grendele 81 passed away April 25,2017. She was much loved by family and friends.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Sandra E. Holden
Feb. 8, 1934 - April 22, 2017
Sandra Etta Holden, 83, passed away peacefully Saturday, April 22, 2017 at her home in Tualatin. Sandra was born Feb. 8, 1934 to parents Edgar H. Brattain and Shirley Maxine Edwards. She married Robert E. Holden March 31, 1962. The couple had four children, Teryl, Shane, Scott and Marel. Sandra was a homemaker and a very involved Mom; volunteering at the children's school and helping with extracurricular activities.
She also worked in the health care industry as a Certified Podiatric Assistant and an administrative assistant. Sandra's entire life was all about her family and she will be remembered for her constant love, support and devotion. Her beloved husband of almost 50 years, Bob, passed away in 2011.
Sandra is survived by her children and their spouses, Teryl (Phil) Andrews, Shane (Anne) Holden, Scott Davis Holden, Marel (Grant) Gerke; six grandchildren; sister and brother-in-law, Pat and Gene Johnson; and brother and sister-in-law, Dan and Kathy Brattain.
A celebration of life will be held at 11 a.m., Saturday, April 29, 2017 at Virgil T. Golden Funeral Service, Salem, OR., followed by a Graveside Inurnment at 12:15 p.m. at Belcrest Memorial Park.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Villa Imogene Mason
Dec. 12, 1929 - April 22, 2017
A funeral will be held for Villa at 2 p.m., Saturday, April 29, 2017 at Portland Metro Church, 5004 N.E. 6th Ave, Portland, OR 97211. Please visit her memorial page at
lincolnmemorialpk.com
for more information.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Hesten Lee McCune III
Sept. 19, 1938 - April 17, 2017
Hesten Lee McCune III passed away Monday April 17, 2017, in Elpaso, Texas. Hesten Lee had his two daughters at his side.
Lee was in a terrible accident in the mid 90's. After surviving a 40 foot fall from a paragliding accident, he continued his dream of being a full-time artist, in Silver City, N.M. At the age of 78 Lee passed away surprisingly, peacefully and surrounded by love. Lee had a love of arts and for 'weird' things that only his friends and family could appreciate and understand.
Hesten Lee left behind two daughters, Leslie Fuentes and Monica McCune; six grandchildren; and one additional grandchild he reunited with in heaven. Lee McCune is loved and he will be missed.
No service will be held. A party in his home town will be held late May.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Fred Lee
McGinnis
Sept. 14, 1937 - April 24, 2017
Fred McGinnis died in peace at home after a long battle with Alzheimer's Disease. He was surrounded by his family and hymns of praise.
Survived by his wife, Claire MGinnis; and daughters, April Messinetti, Amy Stoney and Melissa Miller.
Memorial service will be held at 2 p.m., Saturday, April 29, 2017 at Banks United Methodist Church.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Richard Carmine Oliverio
Oct. 6, 1931 - April 16, 2017
Richard C. Oliverio died Easter Sunday. Graduate of Central Catholic, UofP, and Masters UofO. Retired teacher East Palo Alto, Calif. Avid opera and symphony lover, Italian food connoisseur, and current active parishioner at The Cathedral in Portland. Brother to Catherine Petersen; uncle to Lori; and grand uncle to Ahna. Memorial Mass 11 a.m. Sat. April 29, 2017, St. Patrick Catholic Church 498 N.W. 9th, Canby. Remembrances to Catholic Charities.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Roger Allen Poppert
Oct. 3, 1934 - April 23, 2017
Roger Allen Poppert passed away Sunday at 6:30 a.m., April 23, 2017 from complications attributed to diabetes.
Roger met Joyce, his wife when he was 18, and she was 14 years old! They were married June 10, 1956 and have been happily married for almost 61 years. Very few couples have that kind of bliss.
Roger retired from the Air Force after 20 years serving our country as a Missile and Weather Satellite Technician. Then Roger retired again as a proud Union Member of Local 48 serving as a Sound and Communication Technician.
Roger's interests were amazing! Anything mechanical, he loved to tinker with...old cars, ultralight aircrafts, antique engines, tractors, and toys. His hobbies were woodworking and his orchard garden.
Roger is survived by his wife, Joyce; two sons; one daughter; seven grandchildren; seven great-grandchildren and one on the way!
Services will be held at 2:30 p.m., Thursday, April 27, 2017 at Willamette Memorial National Cemetary, 11800 S.E. Mount Scott Blvd., Portland, OR 97086. There will be a gathering after the service to be announced at the service.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Justin Douglas Rosenblad
Nov. 29, 1975 - April 22, 2017
Son, Husband, Father, Teacher, Soccer Coach, and Friend, Justin Douglas Rosenblad, died peacefully, with his wife by his side, at home, April 22, 2017, after a year long fight against cancer. He was 41.
Justin Rosenblad, nicknamed Rosie, was born Nov. 29, 1975, in Portland to Charles A. Rosenblad and Lauren Marie (Snell) Dixon. He began playing soccer at four years old, a sport that would define his life. He went to Centennial High School, and was a standout soccer player. In the early '90's it seemed he was in the Gresham Outlook every week! After high school, he went to USA, University of South Alabama on scholarship, and played soccer for them for five years. So good he was never redshirted. Go Jags! His friendships made there were some of his most cherished. He also played professional indoor soccer for the Baton Rouge Bombers 1997-98. After completing his undergraduate degree, he came back to Oregon to get his Masters in Education from Concordia University. He graduated on a Saturday, and was hired by his alma mater Centennial High the next Monday. He's been there every since, teaching history, where he was loved by the staff and students alike. Coaching his beloved Eagles was his delight. He was well known in the soccer world in Portland as well, coaching multiple boys and girls Club Teams after school and on many weekends, varsity levels at Reynolds Girls and Centennial Boys. He also coached the girls varsity team at Warner Pacific. Justin loved a good beer with friends. He made his own brew. He was also an artist, he favored Asian landscapes, painting watercolors with sumi brush, and pen and ink drawings. He also taught art classes for all ages on Wednesday nights. He was well traveled taking students to Europe and Washington D.C. He enjoyed the outdoors, hiking, and skiing with his family, and loved the annual Sunriver family reunions. He was a member of the Gresham Elks #1805 where he volunteered for many community projects.
He married Denise Cooke, Nov. 21, 2001. They have four beautiful girls, Hailey Noelle, Sage Nicole, Maile Grace, and Tylen Olivia. Justin was all about family and doted on his wife and girls. He was a lover of animals, especially dogs, having many during his lifetime. He loved his parents, his wife and girls, his school, and his dogs. He loved his TIMBERS! Justin was an amazing, extraordinary person, who shared his gifts with others. He was the best dad, watching movies with his girls every weekend, going to their games, telling them he was proud, talking them through life. He will be missed by so many, but his legacy will be felt for generations with the knowledge and wisdom he taught his children, his students, and the love he showed everyone with that beautiful megawatt smile.
To celebrate Justin's life the memorial service will be held at 1 p.m., Saturday, April 29, 2017 at the Centennial High School gym located at 3505 S.E. 182nd, Gresham. Followed by refreshments in the cafeteria. All are encouraged and welcome to attend.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
David Anthony Vaughn
July 5, 1976 - April 23, 2017
David Anthony Vaughn of Battle Ground, Wash., passed away Sunday, April 23, 2017.
Arrangements in care of Memory Gardens Mortuary. 541-773-7338
memorygardensmortuary.com
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
Larry Allen White
Oct. 16, 1945 - April 20, 2017
Larry Allen White, of Damascus, passed away peacefully in his home surrounded by family April 20, 2017. Larry was born in Longview, Wash. to Clarence and Elaine White. When he was six months old they moved to Gresham and at four years old he began attending Trinity Lutheran Church, where he would worship until the time of his passing.
It was at Trinity Lutheran Church, Jan. 16, 1965 he married longtime friend and high school sweetheart, Kathleen Gayle Cunningham. In 1965 he joined the Army National Guard and proudly served for six years. He began working in wood manufacturing in 1963 at Western Wood. In 1975 he and family friend, Roy Kruger opened their own wood working business, Kruger and White. In 1997 Larry once more found outlet for his entrepreneurial spirit by joining his brother-in-law, John Cunningham to acquire Sound Wood Inc., a company that manufactures sound boards for acoustic guitars. Larry was a charismatic businessman who valued relationships with employees, customers, and fellow businessmen above all else.
Larry and Kathleen moved to Damascus in 1975 and have lived in the same home for the past 42 years, raising their three children and enjoying time with grandchildren. Larry loved camping, fishing, holidays with family, the Blazers and Oregon Ducks, and going to the county fair. He loved animals, especially horses, dogs and the ornamental pheasants he used to raise. In later years, every weekend he could be found spending time with his grandchildren, of which he had seven. He was supportive, enthusiastic, and caring with a sarcastic wit. He will be greatly and endlessly missed. He joins his son, Sean in the hereafter. He is survived by his wife, Kathleen; daughters, Shannon (Todd) Hacker and Stephanie (Craig) White-Riley; his grandchildren, Riley, Madeline, Henry, Grace, Jackson, Carter, and Cole; his brother, Jim (Ellen) White; sisters, Joan (Bob) Stone and Gail Egner; and many nieces and nephews all who he loved dearly.
A memorial for Larry will be held at 1 p.m., Friday April 28, 2017 at Trinity Lutheran Church in Gresham, OR. In lieu of flowers donations may be made to Trinity Lutheran Church.
Please sign the online guest book at
www.oregonlive.com/obits
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2017.04.10 17:59 daprice82 Wrestling Observer Rewind ★ Oct. 2, 1995

Going through old issues of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter and posting highlights in my own words. For anyone interested, I highly recommend signing up for the actual site at f4wonline and checking out the full archives.
PREVIOUS YEARS ARCHIVE: 1991199219931994
1-2-1995 1-9-1995 1-16-1995 1-23-1995
1-30-1995 2-6-1995 2-13-1995 2-20-1995
2-27-1995 3-7-1995 3-13-1995 3-20-1995
3-27-1995 4-10-1995 4-17-1995 4-24-1995
5-1-1995 5-8-1995 5-15-1995 5-22-1995
5-29-1995 6-5-1995 6-12-1995 6-19-1995
6-26-1995 7-3-1995 7-10-1995 7-17-1995
7-24-1995 7-31-1995 8-7-1995 8-14-1995
8-21-1995 8-28-1995 9-4-1995 9-11-1995
9-18-1995 9-25-1995
  • Turner Broadcasting, which owns WCW, is officially planning a merger with Time Warner. It will result in the largest media conglomerate in the world and will include TBS, CNN, Time Magazine, Sports Illustrated, the Atlanta Hawks, the Atlanta Braves, HBO, People Magazine, Time Warner Cable, and more. To give you an idea of how huge this will be, WCW represents only 1/20th of 1% of the total organization. Anyway, what this will mean for WCW remains to be seen.
  • WWF's In Your House 3 took place last week and was...meh. Savio Vega beat Waylon Mercy, which is the end of Mercy's push because his knees and back are so bad that he moves like Andre The Giant did near the end (indeed, Mercy retired a month later due to injuries). Shane "Dean" Douglas beat Razor Ramon but didn't look great. Bret Hart and Jean Pierre stole the show with a great match. Yokozuna has to be legitimately pushing 700 pounds and it's scary. And the main event ended in a screwjob that got reversed the next night on TV.
  • The first live head-to-head battle between Raw and Nitro was a clear victory for WWF, with Raw getting a 2.7 rating to WCW's 1.9. WWF ratings going up slightly after a PPV is normal, but WCW dropping so much from last week is probably a little worrying.
  • Since the All Japan Women's match on the Collision in Korea PPV got such a good response, WCW attempted to book those same women for an upcoming PPV and Nitro. Well, WWF has also contacted AJW and wants to bring in 6 of their women to work a match at Survivor Series along with Alundra Blayze and Bertha Faye. WWF specifically wants Bull Nakano, but AJW has already promised her to WCW so that likely won't happen. But WWF still wants her and since their PPV is a week before WCWs, it's possible that these women will end up working for both WWF and WCW within a week of each other. For what it's worth, there's talk that WWF will be phasing out the women's division and allowing Blayze to return to AJW full-time in the near future. The division has pretty much been a failure since they revived it less than 2 years ago.
  • The economic crisis in Mexico is hitting the wrestling business hard. The major shows still draw well, but the weekly arena shows for both promotions are taking a massive attendance hit, as well as merchandise sales.
  • A week after being fired by WCW, Steve Austin appeared at an ECW house show and will be on ECW TV this coming week. He's still 6 weeks away from being recovered enough from his injury to wrestle. As soon as he's healthy, he will almost certainly be made ECW world champion as quickly as they can get the belt on him. Austin may be looking into working in All Japan, which would allow him to make a good living while still working in ECW. In his first promo, Austin mocked Hulk Hogan by calling himself "The Stevester" and said "Steve-O-Mania" was running wild, among other things. Dave found it amusing.
WATCH: Steve Austin imitates Hulk Hogan in ECW
  • Steve Williams is reportedly planning to move from his home in Baton Rouge to Maui, which pretty much says that he sees Japan as the long-term future of his career.
  • Razor Ramon is negotiating to get WWF to let him work some All Japan dates (I think I've heard Scott Hall talk about this, saying that he wanted to stay in WWF but he wasn't making enough money and he asked Vince to let him work part-time in Japan so he could stay with WWF and make some extra money on the side but Vince wouldn't allow it, so he simply had to take the WCW money).
  • Before starting the UWFI/NJPW angle, UWFI tried to make a deal with All Japan to do the angle first. They called Giant Baba to arrange it, but Baba didn't even return the phone call. AJPW is a totally isolationist promotion and flat out doesn't work with other companies.
  • This bit of news requires some backstory: back in the old days, the NWA champion traveled around to each territory to defend the one and only NWA title. But there were were multiple versions of the NWA U.S. title, with pretty much each region having its own U.S. title. In the Detroit territory, The Sheik was the most well-known U.S. champion. Anyway....Sabu is pushing WCW to do an angle where he comes in with The Sheik and brings in the old Detroit U.S. title belt to challenge for Sting's U.S. title in a feud over who the real U.S. champion is. Dave says Sabu is desperately trying to break out of the "junior heavyweight/cruiserweight" category that WCW wants to pigeonhole him in (along with guys like Guerrero, Benoit, etc.)
  • NJPW was negotiating to bring in Randy Savage, but he wants $30,000 per match and they don't think he's worth that much. There was also a lot of heat between NJPW and Hulk Hogan because of Hogan's refusal to work the North Korea show so don't expect Hogan back any time soon.
  • One of FMW's top stars, Mr. Pogo, has left the promotion. He was making $120,000 a year which was a lot of money, but FMW had no problem paying it during the heyday of Onita when they were drawing tens of thousands of people. But since Onita's retirement, business is way down and they fell behind on money they owed him, so he's gone.
  • An SMW show that was supposed to be held outdoors on a high school football field was cancelled due to cold and rainy weather. But nobody told the wrestlers, so they all made the trip to the show, only to find out after they arrived that it had been cancelled, so they were pissed.
  • In ECW, Cactus Jack has started a new gimmick where he's turning on the hardcore fans by wrestling boring, scientific matches. He'd tease using weapons and then tell the fans they don't deserve it and go back to doing headlocks.
  • Speaking of, here's a quote from Dave: "Cactus Jack did one of the greatest interviews in the history of wrestling on the 9/19 television show. I write that every week, but he tops himself every week." This would, of course, be the legendary "Cane Dewey" promo, with Cactus Jack telling Tommy Dreamer that being hardcore isn't worth it. And yeah...it really is one of the most incredible promos in history. If you only know Mick Foley as the goofy Christmas-loving guy who's reading cheap pop city names off the palm of his hand and getting emasculated by Stephanie every week, watch this and see how amazing he could be.
WATCH: Cactus Jack's famous "Cane Dewey" promo
  • Bruce Hart is trying to put together a show in Calgary for the 50th anniversary of Stu Hart's wrestling debut. He's wanting to put together an all-star lineup of former Stampede wrestlers and is hoping to get Bret and Owen Hart, Davey Boy Smith, Jim Neidhart, Brian Pillman, Chris Benoit, and more. Needless to say, breaking down all the political barriers that would allow both WWF and WCW stars to work this indie show will be unlikely (it actually happened).
  • Ric Flair had surgery to remove a cataract from his eye and should be back in the ring soon.
  • Fall Brawl did a .48 buyrate, which is the lowest WCW buyrate this year and by far the lowest of any PPV Hulk Hogan has appeared on.
  • Ric Flair has been trying to get Sting to team up with him, which of course, will lead to Flair turning on him. Flair is the most over babyface in the company right now (no thanks to WCW management) and Dave thinks it would be a lot more interesting if Sting turned heel, because it would open up a ton of fresh scenarios. But Flair desperately wants to return to being heel.
  • SMW wrestler D-Lo Brown got a tryout at the latest Raw tapings. Also, Tony Norris worked another dark match, using the name Ahmed Johnson. He had used the name Ahmed Williams the night before.
  • WWF flew both Jeff Jarrett and Adam Bomb in to the tapings to meet with them about returning. Adam Bomb turned them down. No word on how the meeting with Jarrett went.
  • The Diesel/Jean Pierre story got more heated the night after Pierre refused to put him over in Montreal. They had a rematch the next night in Quebec City and at some point, Pierre landed badly on Diesel during a move, which led to Diesel immediately getting up and punching the shit out of Pierre legit before jackknifing him to end the match.
LISTEN: Pierre Oulette talks about heat with Kevin Nash
  • Owen Hart's wife Martha just gave birth to a baby girl named Amanda last week.
  • WWF contacted Tom Brandi (known as Johnny Gunn in ECW) about coming in, doing a motorcycle cop gimmick, designed like Erik Estrada on CHiPs. You know. The show that ended in 1983. Because Vince is nothing if not timely when it comes to pop culture. Dave says, "Next thing you know they'll want to bring in Chris Cruise as an announcer and give him an astronaut gimmick based on Larry Hagman in I Dream of Jeannie."
  • Jim Cornette writes in to the letters section with a classic Cornette letter that I'm just going to copy and paste in full:
Over the past several weeks, it has become obvious that Smoky Mountain Wrestling is woefully behind the times and has made many mistakes in its company structure. Following successful promotions' example seems to be the only avenue to our survival. Unfortunately, there are no successful promotions, so I have arbitrarily decided to follow the example of Paul E. Dangerheyman's ECW, using as a gauge to their success the number of lines they receive in the Readers' Pages per issue, divided by the number of lawsuits they are currently involved in for non-payment of bills, multiplied by the number of times Joey Styles' voice cracks per show, times the number of wrestling matches in 1995 not involving barbed wire (2) to get a successful rating on the Finster scale of 17.
From this point forward, in SMW, if merchandise orders were screwed up, I could yell at Brian Hildebrand. If the arena contracts were screwed up, it was Sandy Scott's fault. If the tape dubs were lousy, Tommy Noe was at fault. If the TV commentary was lousy, Chip Kessler and Les Thatcher were to blame. If the ring didn't get set up right, Harold Varner and his helpers were responsible. If anything else wasn't right, it was my fault.
From this point onward, this pattern of responsibility, culpability and accountability will cease, as it would be with any REAL business. Sandy Scott will now become Grumpy Promotions, Inc. a division of Global Ornery. Tommy Noe is TN Distributions, a subsidiary of the PTL Club. Harold Varner is Howard, Fine and Howard Associates. Chip Kessler and Les Thatcher become Two Guys Calling Rasslin and Plumbing Inc. Brian Hildebrand will form Worldwide Gerbil/A Division of Muffinworks. Jim Cornette is being replaced by Universal Hothead Productions, Asshole, Ltd.
Also, if anyone can find a professional wrestler that I have owed money to for more than ten days, I will agree to a payment plan of $14.72 on the first Tuesday of every month that the moon is blue. I heard that WCW was soon to be incorporated for the wrestling business, but I misunderstood. They're soon to be incarcerated for what they've done to the wrestling business.
Jim Cornette, President
Smoky Mountain Wrestling
Morristown, Tennessee
TOMORROW: Vince McMahon holds anti-WCW meeting, Bill Watts takes over WWF creative duties, lots of trouble in AAA, and more...
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2017.02.21 21:10 autotldr Meet Ms. Vickie Williams-Tillman, 56, the Good Samaritan who risked her safety to save a Baton Rouge police officer's life by fearlessly throwing herself on top of violent drug addict, 28, who beat the officer in the head and tried to take his gun

This is an automatic summary, original reduced by 67%.
Vickie Williams-Tillman was on her way to Sam's Club and Walmart early Sunday morning, listening to gospel music, when she noticed a police officer struggling with a man on the side of Harry Drive.
The 44-year-old officer, whose name has not been released, had found the man asleep in his vehicle just before 8 a.m. in the 8400 block of Harry Drive, seeing drug paraphernalia visible, according to the arrest report.
Bennett, of Albany, grabbed the officer's baton and used it to repeatedly hit the officer in the head, McKneely said.
Bennett was booked into Parish Prison Sunday afternoon on counts of aggravated battery, disarming a police officer, battery on a police officer, resisting an officer with violence, possession of cocaine and possession of drug paraphernalia.
The officer, who has a total of 21 years of service, nine of those with BRPD, suffered wounds on his head, McKneely said.
"A lot of people passed him up," Williams-Tillman said, but that's not fair to police officers.
Summary Source FAQ Theory Feedback Top five keywords: officer#1 Williams-Tillman#2 help#3 McKneely#4 police#5
Post found in /The_Donald, /UpliftingNews, /worldnewshub, /Blackfellas and /blackladies.
NOTICE: This thread is for discussing the submission topic. Please do not discuss the concept of the autotldr bot here.
submitted by autotldr to autotldr [link] [comments]


2017.02.21 19:01 autotldr Meet Vickie Williams-Tillman, Good Samaritan who swarmed man attacking Baton Rouge police officer

This is an automatic summary, original reduced by 67%.
Vickie Williams-Tillman was on her way to Sam's Club and Walmart early Sunday morning, listening to gospel music, when she noticed a police officer struggling with a man on the side of Harry Drive.
The 44-year-old officer, whose name has not been released, had found the man asleep in his vehicle just before 8 a.m. in the 8400 block of Harry Drive, seeing drug paraphernalia visible, according to the arrest report.
Bennett, of Albany, grabbed the officer's baton and used it to repeatedly hit the officer in the head, McKneely said.
Bennett was booked into Parish Prison Sunday afternoon on counts of aggravated battery, disarming a police officer, battery on a police officer, resisting an officer with violence, possession of cocaine and possession of drug paraphernalia.
The officer, who has a total of 21 years of service, nine of those with BRPD, suffered wounds on his head, McKneely said.
"A lot of people passed him up," Williams-Tillman said, but that's not fair to police officers.
Summary Source FAQ Theory Feedback Top five keywords: officer#1 Williams-Tillman#2 help#3 McKneely#4 police#5
Post found in /UpliftingNews, /worldnewshub, /Blackfellas and /blackladies.
NOTICE: This thread is for discussing the submission topic. Please do not discuss the concept of the autotldr bot here.
submitted by autotldr to autotldr [link] [comments]


2016.11.04 02:30 Hysterymystery What I ate at Disney World

Just got back from Disney and wanted to post about the food. Here’s my post from last year. I have celiac disease, so last year I talked about the gluten free choices, but since then my body has decided I can’t have dairy either. Boo! So I’ll review the places as a whole, but I’ll also talk about how they handled special diets.
I have specific items linked, but here’s the entire album: http://imgur.com/a/unsek
(Apologies ahead of time: many of these photos were taken after I'd already taken bites out of the food. I was clearly really hungry! lol)
Food and Wine Festival
I was pretty psyched that I got to try the food and wine festival this year. Every year we’ve gone in the past, we’ve been too busy and ran out of time or something has always come up and we didn’t get to fully explore the festival, but I actually tried all the dishes I wasn’t allergic to so that was awesome. This year I had:
Mojo pork with black beans, cilantro rice, and pickled red onions at Islands of the Caribbean
Crispy pork belly with black beans and tomatoes at Brazil
Grilled sweet and spicy bush berry shrimp with pineapple, pepper, onion, and snap peas at Australia
Grilled Verlasso salmon with quinoa salad and arugula chimichurri at Patagonia
• Dole whip at refreshment port
Chilled tomato gazpacho with lump crab meat at Greenhouse Guru
My favorite was the pork belly. Seriously, you have to try the crispy pork belly. The grilled verlasso salmon was really really good too. The ones I probably wouldn’t get again were the shrimp in Australia and the gazpacho at Greenhouse Guru. They weren’t bad per se, they were just forgettable. I was pretty psyched that Epcot has dole whip right now. I don’t know if refreshment port always has it or just during F&W, but it was awesome.
Riverside Mill food court
We started our trip eating at Riverside Mill. This is the food court at Port Orleans Riverside resort. We didn’t plan to eat here; we were hoping to wait until we got to Epcot to eat, but we were starving and it would be another hour or so before we got there. No one wanted to wait that long—especially not with tired and hungry children in tow! Overall, I thought the food there was okay. It’s your average food court food. I probably wouldn’t have chosen to eat here if it wasn’t for the convenience factor. They have some fun options like the Baton Rouge Burger, which has pimento cheese and a fried green tomato on it. My mom got it and said it was decent. My daughter liked her pizza. But nothing memorable. I was a little disappointed that they didn’t have as much in the way of allergy friendly goodies as I remember them having at the budget resorts. The only prepackaged allergy snacks they had were these chips. (BTW: The sweet chili flavored chips were awesome. The sweet potato chips—barf!)
As for my own food: I got the grilled chicken sandwich for lunch the first day and it was pretty terrible. The bun was like cardboard, which…let’s face it, if you eat gluten free, you expect the bread to suck now and again, but I can usually muscle through if the insides of the sandwich are decent but they weren’t. I’m not sure what the chicken was seasoned with but the chicken tasted weird. It was surprising because I’ve had grilled chicken sandwiches in other locations across the property and they were all pretty similar. This one wasn’t good. The fries were good. I think most places across Disney property serve the same shoestring fries. They taste the same to me anyway. They do have a dedicated fryer at the resort, so cross contamination isn’t an issue, which is awesome. The one weird thing that we all agreed we didn’t like about lunch was they played this song on the loud speaker where they sing about Riverside Mill. It was such an annoying song and it was really loud. We were all sitting there going “When is it going to stop???” Has anyone else heard them play this?
That night I was hoping to hit Cookes of Dublin at Disney Springs for dinner, but I was flat out too tired to go anywhere, so we went back to the food court for dinner. This time I got a hamburger and fries. They didn’t have any allergy friendly dessert options, so I got clementines to snack on later. There isn’t much to say here: it was a hamburger.
Later on in the week, we stopped here again for breakfast. I got the bounty platter. I think it normally comes with a biscuit, but they subbed the biscuit for an extra Mickey waffle. It was serviceable, but I don’t really get excited about breakfast food. For the most part, it’s the same everywhere you go across property: eggs, bacon, waffles, potatoes. The chef was nice and the food is hot, so that was good.
Sassagoula Floatworks and Food Factory
This is the food court for Riverside’s sister resort Port Orleans French Quarter. It’s currently undergoing reservations so they have a temporary space open in Bonfamille’s Café. I went to Sassagoula for dinner last year and had some very disappointing jambalaya. I’m not sure if it was just overcooked that day or if it always tastes like that, but I wasn’t impressed. What I did like at French Quarter was their beignets. They have regular ones, which I’m sure are amazing, but they also serve a variety that are gluten free and vegan. They also started serving beignet dipping sauces. They have caramel, raspberry, and chicory garache. I have no idea what chicory ganache is, but I got the raspberry and was seriously impressed. It made the beignets taste like jelly doughnuts! And just when you think it can’t get any better, they also serve a beignet sundae bowl! I haven’t tried it yet, but they do have a gluten free/dairy free option for this dessert. Seriously, no matter where you’re staying: make the trek over to French Quarter for the beignets!
Whispering Canyon
Next up was Whispering Canyon. This is a table service restaurant at Wilderness Lodge. Tastewise, this was probably the favorite table service restaurant. I had heard good things about the food there and it was even better than I imagined. I got the all-you-care-to-eat skillet, which comes with salad with apple vinaigrette and cornbread. The meats included in the skillet are BBQ ribs, pulled pork, glazed chicken, oak-smoked beef, and western style sausage. It also had green beans, potatoes, corn on the cob, and baked beans. Everything on this platter was amazing. My favorite was the smoked beef. I seriously don’t know how they got it to taste so good. The baked beans were also amazing.
The service however, was just meh. It just felt like we waited awhile for a lot of things. It took awhile for her to come greet us, it took us awhile to place our orders, our food took longer than it should. She blamed the long wait on the allergy, which, okay, sometimes it does make things slower. But we also waited forever for our drinks and our check and my allergy has nothing to do with those things. She also forgot my salad until after I’d already eaten my skillet, so I had it for dessert. I also wasn’t thrilled with how they dealt with allergies.
So, last year Disney unveiled their new allergy menus. The previous way of handling allergies was that you just speak to the chef and they come up with something on the spot. The new system involved most restaurants developing allergy menus to hand to guests. I like it better for the most part, but there are kinks. For example: she handed me the allergy menu and the popular skillet wasn’t listed as being dairy free. I was expecting to eat it because several big allergy blogs talked about getting it dairy free with very minimal changes, so I was surprised to see it not on the menu. She told me if it wasn’t on the menu, it wasn’t an option. I mentioned the blogs, so she said she would ask. After speaking to the chef, the only change that needed to be made was they served roasted potatoes instead of mashed potatoes. I’m honestly not sure why they didn’t list the dish for dairy allergies if it really is that simple, after all many other restaurants list items that are modified even more (like Akershus). I also was the one who notified her that the restaurant served gluten free cornbread. When she brought out the regular cornbread, she just told me not to eat it. When I asked if they had gf cornbread, she said no. I told her to ask the chef and lo and behold, they had it. Our waitress was friendly and all, but there seems to be a serious disconnect. Obviously lots of waiters are recommending these options to guests because they’re being talked about all over the internet. Why my waitress didn’t know about them and they haven’t updated the menu is a mystery.
When it comes to the food, I would absolutely recommend this restaurant. My skillet was incredible. My husband had the steak and loved it. My kids loved their ribs and cornbread. It’s a fun place to take kids because they do all kinds of silly things like if you ask for straws, they toss them up in the air. If you ask for ketchup, they’ll bring you 7 bottles. They made the men get up and sing I’m a little teapot and the kids got to trot around the restaurant with those stick horses. I would recommend against the restaurant for anyone with sensory issues (autism, ptsd, etc). It’s extremely loud and rowdy. In terms of allergy safety…I didn’t necessarily feel unsafe eating here, in fact they had tons of amazing allergy options, but I’m glad I did my research because staff training seems inconsistent. I suspect the service issues were just a fluke. Perhaps the waitress was new and overworked. But the food was amazing, which is what is important.
Kona Café
Kona Café is a table service restaurant at the Polynesian resort. They’re best known for their breakfast, which serves the famous Tonga Toast. I haven’t tried it, but it’s apparently some sort of banana stuffed French toast (sounds amazing). We had dinner here and thought it was just okay. I got the pan-seared duck breast with lentils. I’ve never tried duck before so I’m not sure if it was the preparation or if I just don’t like duck, but I didn’t like it. I really like lentils too, but these weren’t good. Everyone else thought the food was just okay. They did try to get creative for dessert and make the “chocolate fondue” for me. Instead of whatever chocolate sauce they have in the back, they gave me a bowl of hershey’s syrup. Visually the restaurant wasn’t much. I probably won’t go back.
Skipper Canteen
Skipper Canteen is a table service restaurant at Magic Kingdom. It has had a bit of a rocky start. They initially tried to make it “walk-in only”, but it just never caught on and they eventually opened it up to reservations. They ended up changing the menu as well and I know we discussed it on here. Word was the menu was “too adventurous” and people were unhappy. I don’t know if that was the actual reason, but they certainly didn’t “dumb down” the menu at all. It looks very similar with the addition of several new even more adventurous dishes like whole fried fish. The one thing they did “dumb down” was the kids menu (thank god). At first they went a little too exotic and weren’t offering any kids menu staples, opting to serve things like arepas and pasta with béchamel sauce on the kids menu which probably limited their customer base a bit. They now have mac & cheese, fish, and steak, which is enough for most kids. The cool thing to me about this restaurant is that it seems the chef really did think about allergies when designing this menu because there are soooo many options for guests with special diets. I had a really hard time deciding what to get here because I could have almost every entrée. Definitely recommended for allergic diners.
First they brought out the bread. My rolls were hockey pucks, but everyone else raved about the Ethiopian ambasha bread with fenugreek-infused honey. My recommendation is if you have more than two diners, ask for multiple cups of honey. They were really into it and it was a pain to pass this little cup of honey around the table when someone wanted a dip (and trust me, they’ll want it!)
For an appetizer, I got the falafel. This is another “off menu” suggestion from my waitress. It wasn’t listed as safe for dairy allergies, but the only dairy is in the sauce served with them, so she served it on the side for everyone else in my group. We really like this.
For an entrée, I ended up getting the whole fried fish. I’d never it had before and was intrigued by the idea. I was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t the lionfish they had on the menu (looks like this bad boy when they’re alive) . The waitress said it looked like Bronzini (Mediterranean sea bass). I looked it up but they look slightly different when they’re alive than they do when they’ve been fried, so I don’t know. I really liked it. The fish skin crisps up similar to how chicken skin does and was very good. I didn’t get a picture of it, but someone else at my table got the char siu pork so I got to try that too. It was decent, but not amazing.
For dessert, I got the mango-lime sorbet, which I liked.
Skipper canteen has a lot going for it. It’s relatively easy to get reservations for (for the time being at least). I thought it was very pretty inside. The staff was friendly when I was there. They have an extensive allergy menu and a lot of healthier and more exotic options than most. I also recommend it if you have someone in your party with sensory issues. The way it’s designed, they have the big mess hall and a couple smaller rooms. The room we were in was the S.E.A room (not my picture). It had less than 20 tables and was much quieter than a lot of Disney restaurants. I also liked that SK had a couple of exotic soda options. I got one that tasted like ginger ale. Recommended.
Be Our Guest
This is a restaurant at Magic Kingdom. It’s the only restaurant (to my knowledge) that is both a quick service and table service restaurant: quick service for breakfast and lunch, table service at dinner time. Dinner also includes a meet & greet with the beast for dinner. BOG is pricey, so it’s a fantastic use of a quick service credit if you’re on the dining plan. It’s pricey enough that you’ll want to think twice if you’re paying cash. I mean, the food is good and it’s very pretty, but $24 per person is a steep price for breakfast when you have to bus your own table!
I got the tuna nicoise salad, which is the same thing I got last year. Still good and a solid choice. I had fewer options available to me this year, but last year I had the potato leek soup, which was incredible. Note: this is one of those places where you can split a meal and save a dining credit. The carved turkey sandwich, which is served on a baguette, is really big. If you get the gluten free option, they just give you two sandwiches. At $15.99, it’s not a great deal to pay cash, but if you want to save a credit, it’s big enough for two.
Tusker House
This is a table service restaurant at Animal Kingdom. It’s a character meal that includes Donald, Daisy, Goofy, and Mickey. We really liked this one. We scheduled our meal time so that it was right on the switch between breakfast and lunch so we would have access to both. They serve Mickey waffles here. I believe they have them out on the buffet, but they made some allergen ones to order for me with maple syrup and berries. My favorite things from the buffet were the spicy green coconut curry, basmati rice with lemon cinnamon and cardamom, trek power salad, and black eyed pea salad. It’s kind of dark in here, so make sure to turn on your flash (my dumb ass forgot cameras have flashes, so all my character pics are really dark). I think I liked Boma better if we’re being nitpicky (soups are so yummy!) but this is a solid choice.
ABC Commissary
Hollywood Studios isn’t known for its food. I’m hoping this is going to change with the new construction. For now we settled for ABC Commissary, which is the big food court across from ABC sound stage. Nothing too exciting here—it’s your standard cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets fare, but I think it’s good for what it is. I got the grilled chicken club sandwich and I really liked it. They have much better buns here than at Riverside and the staff was very friendly. My food took a little longer, but everyone else got their food in seconds. One thing I really liked was that they had fancy cupcakes for dessert. My kids got cupcakes with Olaf on them. They were so tickled. Recommended.
Cosmic Ray’s
This is a quick service restaurant in Tomorrowland at Magic Kingdom. They have a few more options than ABC Commissary did. I had planned to try the ½ rotisserie chicken, but the bacon burger was calling me when we got there. It was your basic hamburger and fries, but the bun was really good, the toppings bar was fun and I enjoyed eating here. They also did a great job with the allergy order. The cashier held up a sign and the special diets consultant (or whatever they called her) showed up and was super friendly and helpful. My kids really liked watching Sonny Eclipse (their big animatronic alien) sing his songs. Overall a very positive experience.
La Cantina de San Angel
Tastewise, this was probably my favorite quick service meal. I had the tacos de barbacoa, which is like a shredded beef taco on soft corn tortillas, served with black beans and rice. A few months ago, someone commented here that this was their favorite quick service restaurant and I was really surprised because I ate here like 5 or 6 years ago and it was very basic. It was like nachos with yellow plastic cheese. It’s so good now! My kids loved the churros and empanadas.
The one complaint I have is that they don’t seem to have a very good system for dealing with allergies. Some places use different colored trays or wooden sticks that say “allergy”. This place didn’t have any of that. They sent the chef out to tell me what I could eat. The dish I got was naturally gluten free (as were two other taco dishes) but they would omit the cheese. So I ordered it without cheese, but then they messed up and gave me one with cheese on the black beans. When I told the guy at the window that I needed one without cheese, he handed it to a girl and said something in Spanish. I was worried she would just scrape off the cheese and hand it back to me, which is a big allergy no-no. When I got the dish back, there were pieces of the crumbly white cotija cheese around the edges so I think that’s probably what happened. I tried to ask whether this was an entirely new plate and he seemed offended by the question and just kept saying “No cheese! You said no cheese! There’s no cheese!” It’s possible she actually did replace the whole thing and some cheese just fell in the bean bin, but either way it had cheese in it. I’m less sensitive than a lot of people and can deal with some cross-contamination when it comes to dairy so I decided to just eat around the cheese, but if you have a more serious dairy allergy, I would avoid this restaurant.
Akershus
Akershus is another restaurant we returned to this year. Last year, we had breakfast here and we decided to try dinner. I really like Akershus. If you are looking for a character meal for your little girl, I think it’s a much better choice than Cinderella’s Royal Table. It’s cheaper, for one. If you’re on the dining plan, it’s literally half the price of CRT. I liked the food much better too.
Parenting Tip: If you’re going with children for the purposes of meeting princesses, my recommendation is to do breakfast over dinner. I liked the food at both meals, but I felt like the breakfast went smoother. Your kids may be different from mine, but mine were exhausted by dinner and were fidgety and cranky. When we did breakfast, they were excited and well behaved because they weren’t hot and tired from being at the parks all day. The way they do breakfast also helps: they bring platters of food out to your table. So you aren’t sitting and waiting for your order; it arrives almost immediately after you sit down. We’ll stick to character breakfasts and early lunches from now on!
I had the traditional kjottkake, which was meatballs, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Tastewise, this was really really good. It was like a flavorful meatloaf. I was a little disappointed when it was served without the gravy or lingonberry sauce, which I was really looking forward to. Like, you expect them to make alterations for allergy dishes, but it should be noted so the customer knows what to expect. I was also overlooked at dessert time. The waiter brought out a platter of desserts for the rest of the table and turned to leave. I flagged him back down and asked him “what about me?” He finally brought back the allergy menu. Dessert was disappointing. They do have some pre-packaged goodies available, but I definitely felt like an afterthought. Rocky start aside, I do recommend this restaurant both to allergic diners and everyone else. The character experience is great, there are lots of allergy options, and the food is very good.
Raglan Road
I can’t say enough amazing things about Raglan Road. The food there is soooo good. I ended up getting the exact same thing I got last year: Scallop forest appetizer and the fish and chips. I subbed the crushed peas for the fries. Both times they forgot the peas and brought me fries initially (which are good too). The food here is incredible and they have a huge number of options for allergy diners. When you can’t have gluten or dairy, getting seafood that is battered and fried is pretty incredible. They even had a legitimate dessert that was gluten free and dairy free: chocolate heaven!. You can tell the chefs here really put a lot of thought into their menu. Everyone in my party, on both occasions, loved their food.
Raglan Road also has Irish dancers and live music. It’s a lot of fun. My only recommendation is that young children or people with sensory issues might not feel comfortable here. It’s sooo loud and very busy.
Aloha Isle
We ate our weight in Dole Whip this year. I think we got it four or five times and as always, I was so hungry, I only remembered to photograph it once. Dole Whip is gluten free, dairy free, and vegan. I also tried the dole whip float once, which is dole whip and pineapple juice. I love both dole whip and pineapple juice, but these two flavors just didn’t mesh to me. I’ll stick with plain dole whip in a cup!
Spice Road Table
We booked Spice Road because we’ve never done Illuminations and have heard the view from SR was very good. We booked our reservations for 8:30 with the idea that we’d probably be getting our food right about the time the show started. We were wrong. We were actually done eating by the time the show started! We got in immediately. The staff was super friendly. We ordered right away and got our food right away. She said the kitchen closed at 9, so that’s probably but stil, I was impressed. I got the hummus and imported olives with cornichons. It’s normally served with pita bread, but I can’t have that so they gave me carrots instead. I effing loved this. Whatever the reddish hummus was was my favorite. I could eat it all day. I also got the rice stuffed grape leaves, which were okay.
For whatever reason, they don’t have their kids menu listed on the site, but they do have a couple of kids options. They have sliders and chicken kabobs, which I really appreciated. Overall, we really liked this one and would eat here again.
Erin McKenna’s Bakery
I put this one last since most of you won’t be eating here. It’s a special diets bakery at Disney Springs. Everthing there is gluten free, vegan and kosher. I don’t know all the specifics but I know they do a very good job making sure major allergens are excluded from their formulations, so if you have additional allergies, it’s definitely worth a look. The food here is amazing. We got half a dozen donuts and polished them off. I’m posting a pic of the bakery case since my fat ass forgot to take a pic of the donuts until I’d taken bites out of like half the box. Lol
They really did a great job with this bakery. My kids, who do not have to eat gluten free and are used to regular donuts, raved about these. The cinnamon sugar donut was the favorite, but we also liked the salty caramel and the chocolate glazed. If you don’t have allergies, there are much cheaper donuts on property, but I really felt like a normal person eating here ☺
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