Takes A Licking

One evening Trooper Bob and Trooper Ray were out on their regular patrol. They had made the rounds and had gotten their coffee to go from the local diner. They had called in to dispatch and were enjoying a cool spring evening. Then the call came in. “Dispatch to car 76” the radio announced. “Go ahead dispatch” was the reply from Trooper Ray. “We have a drunk and disorderly out on Hwy 181 at the Stab and Shout” dispatch reported. “Ten-four. We are in route” replied Ray. Trooper Bob nodded his acknowledgement and turned on the siren (SIGH-REEN). They careened around corners and sped through pasture land. They both knew that a drunk and disorderly at the Stab and Shout could result in a bloody mess.

Trooper Bob turned into the gravel parking lot and slid to a stop in front of the honky tonk. There in front of the establishment was a very intoxicated man. He was stumbling this way and falling that way and all the while wielding a knife and shouting at the by-standers. The troopers recognized the drunk as one of the regulars at the county jail. A particularly mean and surly fellow named Jesse. They assessed the situation and saw a man on the ground with a wound to his arm. “Come here you pig” he shouted “I cut you too.” Trooper Bob looked at Ray and they nodded. They unclipped the holder on their Sam Brown Belt and drew out their mace. Ray went to one side and Bob went to the other. The belligerent drunk turned toward Trooper Bob who took advantage of the opportunity and spritzed Jesse in the face. Jesse turned to get away from the burn and sting of the mace and lashed out with his knife at Ray. Ray jumped back but not before he hit Jesse with another douche of mace. This time it hit home and brought Jesse to his knees. He screamed and cried and clawed at his face. “You mother-f**’s” he screamed “You blinded me.”

The troopers let the mist fall and then each grabbed an arm of the blinded drunk. He immediately put up a fight. He twisted this way and turned that way trying to avoid the hand cuffs. The two troopers had been down this road before and with a bit of a struggle they were able to subdue Jesse enough to get the restraints on him. Then they fought some more to get him into the back seat of the patrol car. Unfortunately somewhere between knocking Trooper Bob’s Stetson in the dirt and kicking Trooper Ray in the family jewels, Jesse hit his head on the car door entering the back seat. This gave him a bit of a bloody nose and what would probably be two black eyes the next morning and along with the mace burning his skin and eyes he was not a happy drunk. His situation only made him angrier and more combative.

Trooper Bob picked up the microphone and called into to the Karnes County Jail. “This is 76, we have a suspect in route our eta is 20 minutes. He is combative and will need extra restraints” Bob warned the jail. The reply came back from the sheriff himself, “just bring him in. We’ll take care of him when he gets here.” Trooper Bob looked at Ray and said “I wouldn’t want to be Jesse tonight.” They both looked over at the writhing, bloody, pissed off drunk in the back seat and smiled.

You see the sheriff at that time was a man named Harper. Harper stood about 4’7” and thought he was 8 foot tall. He was a stern little man who didn’t take crap off of anyone, literally. He was stern and stout and took his job seriously and did so with an iron hand and a quiet sense of humor.

Harper met the troopers at the door and observed the hostile drunk for himself. He spat a brown wad of tobacco spit and drawled “Bring that summabeach over herah.” He then went to a cell in the back and opened the gate. There standing in the cell was one of the biggest meanest men the two troopers had ever seen. The giant of a man looked at Harper and said “Whatcha got there Boss?” and Harper replied “I got you a cell mate Joe. This ones been messin round with little girls.” Joe looked at the drunk and back at the sheriff and said “I don’t likes perverts.” Harper closed the cell and escorted the two troopers to the front office. The troopers got ready to leave but Harper said “You boys wait jist a minute. I’m gonna need your halp.”

From the back came such a noise. There was some screaming that they recognized as Jesse then there was some banging sounds and then there was quiet. Harper said “Ahright lit’s go git em” and started walking toward the back cell. Sure enough there on the floor of the cell laid Jesse out cold. Joe sat on his bunk looking at the officers. Harper opened the cell and Ray grabbed one arm and Bob the other to get Jesse out of the cell. They lifted him up to almost standing and started to another cell when a big old turd slid out of Jesse’s pants. Trooper Bob looked at Trooper Ray and said “Hum, I guess you really can beat the shit out of somebody.” The sheriff chuckled and said “happens all the time boys.”

Just the Facts Week ending 1/26/09

*I have had several people ask if these are real calls. Yes they are and I have written them verbatim from the Flathead Beacon. I look forward to the weekly publication’s Police Blotter. It also has many interesting headlines and article that I’m sure you would not see in the New York Times.

There are a million stories in the city.

Dum-dah-dum…dum-dah-de-dum-de-dum.

"The story you are about to hear is true; only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.")

The Flathead Beacon:
Police Blotter for the week ending 1-26-09

A sampling of crime briefs from the Kalispell Police and Flathead County Sheriff’s reports…by Julius Macker (comments by Gladys)


Tuesday 1/20/2009

8:58 a.m. An individual dressed all in black could not be found. Apparently, he rode his skateboard across the highway.

Sounds like one of those dangerous skateboard Ninja’s to me. It does cause one to wonder why they could not see him since everything here is covered in snow. Doesn’t it seem you could spot someone dressed all in black if they are in a sea of white?

4:01 a.m. A man said he was unable to identify who, or what, assaulted him. Law enforcement said it was “mutual combat” between two highly intoxicated men. The confused man went to jail for possession of dangerous drugs.

People are just stupid. I mean if I am in possession of dangerous drugs I’m not calling the cops for ANY reason. That is like saying “Hey I’m going to run for public office only I haven’t paid my taxes in 30 years”. You are going to be found out dude. Only difference is this guy went to jail.


Wednesday 1/20/2009

9:24 a.m. An 11 year-old- girl was booked for stealing press on nails from her aunt.

First isn’t it wonderful how our justice system works? Second come on for press on nails? I thought those things went out in the 80’s.

1:35 p.m. A 92 year-old-woman and her 47 year-old-daughter had an argument. Apparently the woman’s daughter thought she should be more cautious.

I can hear the argument:

Daughter: Mother you need stop opening the door for strangers! I love you damn-it!
Mother: You need to stop caring about me so much you little witch.

7:07 p.m. A 40 year-old-man, who had another man’s wallet in his pocket, was talking about suicide in the emergency room. He had been drinking.

Why did he have another man’s wallet? Was in committing suicide incognito?

2:28 a.m. A funny smell at a motel on Montana Highway 35 turned out to be marijuana smoke. Authorities arrived, but the drugs were gone. Authorities arrived, but the drugs were gone. Someone was cited for possession of drug paraphernalia.

I didn’t know Michael Phelps was in town.

Thursday 1/22/2009

9:15 p.m. A man called authorities and asked them to check on his son, who had a contact lens stuck to his eye. The man’s son refused medical attention, even though his eye was swollen shut.

Must have been a slow day at the station, because there weren’t any other calls. Can’t you just see the fire truck, paramedics and every patrol car on duty pulling up in front of this guy’s house? Sir we are here to rescue from your ocular enhancement device. No sir, not that type of enhancement, your O*C*C*U*L*A*R that means your eye. Sir your contact. Now if you’ll hold still Officer Fife is going to get the Jaws of Life.

Friday 1/23/2009

1:35 p.m. Someone quit drinking, or using drugs in Columbia Falls. They didn’t feel well.

For some reason the only thing that comes to my mind is that scene from Airplane where Lloyd Bridges says “I picked the wrong day to stop doing amphetamines.”



4:09 p.m. A man on Beach Street in Bigfork, who habitually calls the sheriff’s office for no other reason than to report that everything is “OK”, called again. Everything is still OK.

Thank God we have conscientious citizens like Mr. Kravitz.

4:25 p.m. Any report stating that things in Bigfork were not Ok, are false, according to a man on Beach Street.

Thank you Mr. Kravitz for that report.

12:37 a.m. A Bigfork resident who lives on Beach Street said that his neighbor arrived home safely.

Again, Mr. Kravitz thank you for letting us know since we didn’t even know your neighbor went out. You need to be a little more alert on the comings and goings on Beach Street.

Monday 1/26/09

12:40 a.m. A man on Beach Street in Bigfork called in with his dialy report. Turns out that everything is OK and any reports stating otherwise are, according to the caller, false.

Mr. Kravitz you are to be commended for your prompt reporting of the state of affairs on Beach Street in Bigfork.

1:04 a.m. A deputy fell on the ice. He was in Hungry Horse.

Well obviously he wasn’t on Beach Street in Bigfork or we would have heard about it before it happened.

5:51 p.m. Everything on Beach Street in Bigfork was cool.

Thank God! I mean we didn’t have a report all day and I was really concerned.

11:54 p.m. A girl, who had an argument with her parents, was found walking down Dunn Moving Lane in only a T-shirt and jeans.

Note to teenagers. When you stomp out of your parents house you might want to grab a jacket. It is below zero out there and you might get cold. Oh wait that is what you were arguing about? You mother told you to wear a jacket?


Pep Streebeck: Well, what a pleasant surprise... Grannie Friday...
Friday: Not that it's any of your business, she's my maternal grandmother, her name is Mundy.

Legend Has It

Let me tell you a little something about Gladys. Gladys has loved horses her whole entire life. Gladys used to dream of having her very own pony from the time she was a little bitty girl just fresh from under the rock. She would draw horses, play horses, ride stick horses and sometimes pretend she was a horse. Now being a good Texas family they had a big den where they would all sit and watch television, the same one mentioned in my story about the Birds. The room was decorated right out of Guns and Ammo with some touches from Horse and Rider. One of little Gladys very favorite decorating items in the room was an antique saddle that sat on a saddle stand in the corner. Little 5 year-old Gladys would sit on that saddle for hours riding her imaginary horse through all types of adventures. She would ride the range with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans singing a song. She would be hunting down bad guys with The Lone Ranger and Tonto. She would ride the range with John Wayne and Dean Martin fighting Indians and saving villages. We won’t even get into the predicaments she got into with The Cisco Kid and Poncho. She used to daydream in school that she would come home and her parents would have bought her very own horse and it would be waiting for her in the backyard. She would call it Beauty and braid its mane and its tail. She would ride it down the street with all her friends and family chasing after her laughing and yelling. It never happened. Gladys never came home to find Beauty with a comb and rubber bands waiting for Gladys to braid her mane or ride her into the sunset. Yeah, I’m not bitter or anything that’s why I write about it in the third person.
I have never lost my love of horses. I also have to tell you something else, I can’t draw. Not one bit. Not even stick figures. Can’t do it. I have 3 cousins and a brother who are fantastic artist go check out Brad Braune and Cyber Cowgirl. See what I mean? Me nope can’t draw. I would paint nothing but horses if I could. I also am not much of a photographer yet I have two kids who have the magic. What I do have is a love of horses.

Recently Kahuna knowing my love for horses made me get off my slackass and go out in the cold. He had a treat for me. Now let I’ll let you in on another secret. Kahuna loves to ski. He loves the outdoors and the feeling of swooshing and swathing down the mountain. He has the talent and the grace and he gets out there and rips it up. Evidently you have to be limber.

Now what happens when you put a horse lover and a ski lover together? Skijoring. Now I know some of my readers are from the frozen tundra. You’re from the regions which support months of white powder and freezing temperatures. Kahuna and I are not. He is a Southern California boy born and raised and well I’m from the desert plains of West Texas. We had never heard of Skijoring. You either? Well here is a synopsis of its origin.

It helps if you have a big strong horse.

Skijoring originated in Scandinavian Countries several hundred years ago as a method of travel during the long winters. Towed behind reindeer on long wooden skis, the Laplanders found skijoring or “ski driving” a useful and practical mode of transportation.

Yes this guy has on a Spider Man costume. I didn't know Spidey was a skier.

Legend has it that the first actual skijoring race, held in the United States, occurred many years ago in Colorado when two ranchers made a bet with one another to see who owned the fastest horse in the valley. Since it was mid winter they thought the race would be more interesting to have a horse and rider pull a skier on a 30ft. rope around a barrel placed some distance away and back. The fastest time would win.

He's close enough to kiss Barney the Wonder Mule's Cheek

It’s a little like barrel racing in the snow while pulling a skier. Got it? We had never seen it done. I only had a few problems with it. First horses poop, a lot. I know this because I used to own three of them and there was lots and lots of poop. Second horses pass gas. Think about it, a guy voluntarily gets horse poop and poots thrown at him while being pulled at 45 mph behind a horse. Interesting.

I bundled up in my warmest gear. I put long johns over long johns and put jeans over that, then layered on sweater over sweater and then added a down coat over that. I put my gloves in my pocket and grabbed my camera. I was ready.

Don't I look cute all bundled up?

I looked at Kahuna standing there in his jeans and t-shirt with a jacket over that, no gloves, no hat; no long johns not even wool socks. I said “Honey don’t you want to put some layers on?” Kahuna smiled that sweet smile that says I’m asking a stupid question and replied “Naw, it’s not that cold outside. Look the sun is shining. I’ll be fine.” I love Kahuna but he’s a Californian. He thinks if the sun is shining it's shorts and flip flop weather. Off we went me dressed ready for the Klondike and Kahuna for a cool day at the beach.

Ok he had on a few more clothes than this.
We got to the arena which was really the city airport and the wind was blowing a brisk 20 mph the gauge on in the car said the outside temperature was 27 degrees.

We climbed out of the warmth of the car and walked to the course.

Now I’m no a light weight but that wind about almost lifted me off my feet and sent me flying. I looked at Kahuna and said “Are you warm enough.” He, forever the tough guy said, “Yeah, I’m fine.” We found a place to stand and got ready for the event.
We stood wind blown and cold watching people being pulled around the course. We drank coffee and ate tamales. We yelled and screamed for the horses to run faster and the skiers to jump higher.

This guy had an animal on his head. I think that's why he went so fast.
Then about two hours into the competition Kahuna looked at me and said “You getting cold honey?” I was fine. I was toasty. I had on 45 layers of clothes. I looked in his red cheeked face and saw his red ears and saw him shiver a deep bone chilling shiver and said “Yes, I’m freezing. Can we go home now?” He ran to the car and got it started. He cranked the heater on high as I began peeling clothes off.

Barney says Hi-ho my ass! It's cold out here.

Run You Son of A...

It’s Super Bowl Sunday and I don’t understand all the hype. Oh and by the way I am terribly disappointed in G.M. and Ford not to mention Bank of America. Not one of them contacted me about advertising. See this is just more blatant misuse of bail out money. I am DEMANDING that they show us their books and make it completely transparent as to who is spending what. I want to know who just paid $6,000 for a shower curtain and who spent $25,000 for a foot stool in the bathroom. Not that I can do anything about it I just want to know because I’m nosey. I just don’t get it. One more thing and then I’ll get back to my story. Jack Welch was on C-Span being interviewed by a college chancellor. I love that man. Anyway he was talking about the bonuses these guys are getting and the jest of was that we need to stop these greedy bastards. Ok he didn’t say it like that but that is what he meant.

Super Bowl Sunday brings back memories of growing up in a football crazed house. This was back in the day when they didn’t pay three million dollars for 30 seconds of advertising and the players made less than the president of the United States. This was back in the days of Tom Landry and the Dallas Cowboys and the Washington Redskins being arch rivals. This was in the day of Dick Butkus, Rosy Greer and Dandy Don Meredith. It was when Joe Namath made sexy shaving cream commercials and wore panty hose.

Any Sunday afternoon after September and before January you would find my whole family gathered in the den with the television tuned to the football game. The preacher at our church would keep his sermon short on those Sundays when the Cowboys were playing and we would hurry home in time for the kick-off. To say we were Cowboy fans is an understatement. My mother had a portrait of Tom Landry in her bedroom. Hey my brother painted it. She had a clock with the Dallas Cowboy Star on it, my dad made it. Time would stop and all extemporaneous actions ceased when the Cowboys played. Heck a second string Quarterback asked my sister to go boat riding with him and we all swooned. Too bad she was already married he may have caught the fever and done better with his career. Sometimes people would stop by and there may or may not be a crowd.

One Sunday when I was still quite young my dad’s best friend and his family were at our house. We were very close to this family and loved them like they were our own family. We took vacations together, ate together, water skied together, trick or treated together, played baseball, dug tunnels and generally just enjoyed being together. We were all sitting around in our scattered places watching the Cowboys go from winning to losing and back again. There was a running back named Drew Pearson who was a receiver. It was one particularly tense game and everyone was on the edge of their seats. Then there was a fumble which if Dallas could recover would mean the game. Drew swept in grabbed the ball and ran. That’s when Francis, the matriarch of our friend’s family, stood up and started screaming “RUN YOU SON OF A BITCH RUN!” That did it! That was it. That was the chant from then on. Anytime Dallas got the ball and the chance to run the ball the chant would ring out “RUN YOU SON OF A BITCH RUN!” From the smallest boy child to the oldest girl child, this cry rang out.

So no matter whom you are rooting for today, no matter that you don’t necessarily like the teams in the Super Bowl. It doesn’t matter that you don’t necessarily like football just remember “RUN YOU SON OF A BITCH RUN!” and everyone will think you are a true sports fan.
Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go make some dip and cook some little hotdogs wrapped in dough in preparation for my chance to scream RUN YOU SON OF A BITCH RUN. The only problem is I usually scream this during the commercials.