The Sad Story of the Boat Purchase

It was July of 2000 when our granddaughter was born.  Not long after that Ginger and I decided we should sell our Gulfstar 39 sailboat and then sell our house and move from Corpus Christi to Grand Junction, Colorado.

I created a web site with boat descriptions and pictures and waited for the phone to ring.  Of course it didn't.  As the months passed I would get an occasional call from a used boat dealer and that was pretty much all the activity there was in the boat selling arena.

Finally a fellow who lived a half mile away became interested in my boat.  We dickered about the price and I have to admit I finally just pissed the guy off and thus gave up on the chance of selling him my boat as he gave up even considering the purchase.

Fast forward to the summer of 2003.  My phone rang and when I answered it a womans voice asked if I still had the Gulfstar 39 for sale.  I said yes and she said she thought it would look marvelous sailing in Puget Sound.  I told her she was absolutely right.

We talked about the boat and I agreed to send her a copy of the last survey (inspection).  A few weeks later she called back and asked if she and her husband could come to Corpus Christi and sail the boat.  Sputter, sputter, eh.. eh... but of course!  A week later they were at our door step having flown in from Seattle.

With plenty of beer, soda and sandwiches we set off for a beautiful days sail around Corpus Christi Bay.  The winds were perfect and the boat performed flawlessly.  They were happy and, by the end of the day, in love with my Gulfstar.

They made arrangements to return in about 2 weeks and this time they brought their surveyor with them.  We had another great sail from our house to the boat yard where the boat was hauled out and the bottom inspected.  By the time we got home late that same day everyone was happy.

They left our place headed directly to the airport to catch their plane for Washington.  From the airport she called me and gave me an offer on the boat.  It was $4K less than I was asking but I agreed fast enough that she probably thought she should have reduced her offer.  The deal was stuck!

They were an interesting couple.  She was a lawyer practicing in a town east of Seattle.  He was the owner of a welding shop and apparently ready to have his son take over the business while he reaped the fruits of his labors.

From the first time on the boat you could tell he was warming up to the girl.  He wandered around on the deck looking at all the pullies and lines.  The deck rails and sails.  Checking inside the lockers.  He was all over her.  You could see him fixing this or changing that in his mind.  He was already having a great time and they had not even bought her yet.

They were nice folks.

They made arrangements for a boat transport to come to one of the local boat yards and pick up the boat.  I delivered her to the boat yard and said my goodbyes to that damn boat that captures your heart.  You love 'em and you hate 'em all at the same time.

Within 3 days the boat was loaded on the transport and off she went... headed for Puget Sound.  The buyer would talk with the driver each evening and was plotting his path from South Texas toward Seattle.  She would email me each day telling me of the progress and their growing excitement as the boat neared her new home.

The emails stopped after they were supposed to meet the driver as he stayed the last night on the road before making his destination.  They wanted to see the boat on the truck and take pictures.  Then I got the last email from the buyer.

She wrote that she and her husband had driven to a nearby town and did meet the driver.  She said it was exciting to see the boat on the trailer and commented on how big it looked versus when it was in the water.  She said the driver was even excited about seeing them launch the boat in the sound.  Her husband was also very excited and was looking forward to many days aboard "their" boat.  I knew he loved it... I knew it.

The she said, they returned home that evening and went to bed tired but happy.  The next morning they got up and were getting ready for work when her husband had a massive heart attack and died right their in the bedroom.

Death

To me there is a relationship between being born and death.

In my minds eye I picture a baby developing in it's mothers womb. It's origin, a single cell. It grew and now it's world is pretty nice as it has plenty to eat, is warm and maturing nicely. Then it's world comes crashing down and the child is pushed and shoved toward the birth canal. As the child progresses through this experience... the experience that will end the only world it has known... on the other side is a family waiting for the arrival of the child. Of course the child doesn't know what awaits it but with out a doubt the child will soon be in this new world.

When the child is born it is welcomed with cheers and love. The child will be nurtured and cared for and have the opportunity to grow.

When death finally takes one of us, we also will begin a journey not unlike the one described above. We will emerge from this life into another where we are born (again). We will be welcomed by those who took this journey before us. We will be welcomed with cheers and love.

We feel the loss in our hearts for those that have taken this journey. The feelings are deep and personal but one must remember that this is a journey we will all take. The time we spend on this world is but a blink in the eye of time. We will soon enough be with those who have passed before us.

To me there is a relationship between being born and death.

Who Writes this Stuff?

I got these in an email the other day and I almost fell out of my chair LMAO. So I thought I would post them here for anyone who happens to stop in.






































If you laughed let me know by posting a comment.

Lifetime Guarantee

I was watching the tube this morning when a commercial came on about a razor that is guaranteed to last a lifetime. WOW I thought, that must be some razor. The commercial went on to talk about the super great steel the razor blade was made from and yadda....

Then they say. If I order right away they would ship me an additional razor if I just pay the shipping charge.

Now they exclaim that's getting a second one free!

So I'm wondering: If this razor is guaranteed to last me a life time why do I need a second one?

Suddenly?

I was watching TV. A couple of guys tromping through the country side were looking for spitting cobras. They took a break for lunch or coffee or something. Then the guy said, "We were interupted when the phone suddenly rang."

How else does a phone ring?

AMTRAK - The Return Trip

I saw: 2 bald eagles, 1 buck and 1 doe actually swimming across the Colorado River, 1 red fox, 1 herd of elk. I also found out there are exactly 30 tunnels between Denver and the Moffett Tunnel. The Moffett Tunnel is 6.2 miles long and smells (stinks) like diesel exhaust. The Gore Canyon is beautiful. The train travels next to the Colorado River for over 200 miles.

My hat is also off to the engineer who gave infomation about the sights along the way. He obviously was a train buff and also knew his history. There ought to be a book you can buy that will give you the same infomation.

If I had known what I was missing on the trip TO Denver I would have been really pissed off. But seeing the sights on the return trip was awsome. I can't imagine the people digging the tunnels and laying the track through the Rocky Mountains. Even with todays tools and technology it would be a daunting task.

I can only say the trip was inspiring and I would think a summer trip would be nice to see the difference.

For $44 each way it is a good deal.... if your not in a hurry.

AMTRAK... This is different

I took the train to Denver. I was looking forward to seeing the glorious Colorado scenery. Glenwood Canyon, Gore Canyon, Moffett Tunnel... I was excited. The train is scheduled to leave around 10:30 AM so there should be daylight most of the trip.

The morning of the trip I checked the internet to see if the train was on schedule. It was running 3 hours late. No problem, still plenty of time to see the sights. At noon I checked again, it was now running 4 hours late. It seemed like every time I checked the train was getting later. The last time I checked the internet is said it would be leaving 6 hours late or about 4:30 PM.

I went to the train station. Immediately following my arrival they moved the schedule out another half hour. There wasn't going to be much sight seeing on this trip. The train came, I got on, the sun sunk behind the Colorado Monument and we left... 7 hours late.

Inside the coach car that I was assigned the seats were large with plenty of leg room. I'm over 6 feet tall and I could stretch out. For this much room on a plane you would have to pay 4 times the current rate.

We were off. Better late than never. I called my son in Denver and told him to not wait up as it would be well after midnight before I arrived.

I was glad I had a good book, a large jacket to act as a blanket and a couple of sandwiches in my bag. I settled in.

It was a long night. Remember the old saying, "like two passing trains in the night." I can tell you that it is very appropriate. You need to take the train to really understand it. You know they are there but just can't see 'em... like camouflage.

I finally arrived in Denver at 3:30 AM. The weirdest thing happened. In the rail yard the train kept stopping and the engineer would get out of the engine and walk ahead of the train for may 20 yards. He would inspect something, maybe a switch, and then get back in the engine. He did this about 3 times that I could see. Then the train started backing up. I didn't have a clue as to what was going on. Much to my surprise we backed into Denver's Union Station! I thought the engineer must have missed a turn or something. I found out later that all passenger trains have to back in. Apparently when they built Coors Field (baseball) something had to give and the powers that be decided it was railroad tracks. Pretty retarded if you ask me.

At any rate, I made it. Bored stiff, cold, and very late.

About the return trip soon.

I Was God Once, It Was Great!

Long ago my sister had 3 adorable little girls. Actually she still has 3 adorable girls they just aren't little any more. Each girl had her distinct personality and each was as cute as a puppy or kitten. They lived in a mountain community a few hours out of Reno, Nevada. I would visit from time to time. I think they loved their Uncle Jimmy. I had occasion to phone my sister one day. The middle girl, Kathy, answered and I asked if her mom was home. She told me no and that mom went to the store and would be back in a few minutes. She didn't recognize my voice but they were young, their ages still a single digit. Now I've always liked the little people. One of their greatest assets is honesty. They are usually honest to a fault and thus they believe what people tell them... especially adults. These 3 little people were no exception. I don't know what came over me but when I heard that mom wasn't there and then little Kathy asked if I wanted to leave a message, well, I couldn't help myself. "YES," I said in a deep authoritative voice, "I WANT TO LEAVE A MESSAGE. THIS IS GOD CALLING AND I WANT YOU TO HAVE YOUR MOM CALL ME BACK RIGHT AWAY!" I hear a small voice saying to her sisters, "Hey you guys, it's God on the phone and he wants to leave a message!" Then I asked, "DO YOU HAVE A PIECE OF PAPER AND A PEN?" "Yes God." Kathy replied. "OK, WRITE THIS NUMBER DOWN 303-555-1234." "OK God." She said. Then I told her that God loved her and she said she loved me too. It was so sweet. She believed every word I said. So did her sisters, I could here the chatter in the background. God obviously had never called before. I felt rotten on one hand for fooling her and her sisters but then, on the other hand, it was just great to get away with it. My sister called about 10 minutes later. When I answered she asked to speak to God. I laughed and she told me that she drove up to the house and 3 girls came streaming out the door and down the stairs. One is waving a piece of paper in the air and all are screaming, "Mom, Mom, God called and wants you to call him back right away!" Over and over they yelled and Mom of course, couldn't believe what she was hearing. When she saw the phone number on the note she immediately knew what was going on. I talked to the girls on the phone that day and they took it pretty good that I had fooled them. What is so very cool about this story though is all 3 of them still remember their phone call from God. They refer to me as God some times and tell others that their Uncle Jimmy is God. I guess I left a solid impression with these young 'uns as they still remember that day. What I can't imagine is what went on in that house between the time I first called, or should I say when God called, and when mom drove up. That is probably the best part of the story. This had to have been 30 or so years ago and here I am remembering that time vividly. Julie, Kathy and Jamie. God still loves you.

Dead

I had a friend who was rotund. He was pretty funny and always had an opinion. He was successful. I was impressed by many of the pictures in his office because there he was with President Regan, various movie stars, a bunch of important local folks.

We used to meet most mornings for coffee along with a few others and solve the problems of the world. I remember one morning he was telling us about his latest doctors appointment. He said, "What do you do if your doctor tells you to lose weight? Get a new doctor!"

We laughed.

He died while having surgery to open clogged carotid arteries.

Where do you what to eat?

It must be genetic. My wife does this and so does her daughter. The granddaughter doesn't do this so much but she is young and still has mommy and Grammy traits to acquire.

I'm talking about going out to lunch. It goes like this:

Me: Hey darling, lets go out to eat.
Wife: OK, if you want to.
Me: Great, let's go.

We get in the car... I have a restaurant in mind.

Me: So, is the Sports Bar OK for lunch?
Wife: I'd rather not.
Me: OK, where would you like to go?
Wife: Oh, I don't care.
Me: OK, well how 'bout Red Robin then?
Wife: No, I'm not in the mood for Red Robin.
Me: OK, where do you want to go?
Wife: Oh, anywhere you want is OK with me.
Me: Well, how 'bout a little help here, what kind of food do you want?
Wife: Mexican is good... Italian is good too. Really, anything you like.
Me: OK, how 'bout Johnny Carino's?
Wife: If you want to. I guess that will be OK.
Me: We could go somewhere else if you would rather.
Wife: I really don't care where we go... just pick something.
Me: We could go to Burger King!
Wife: You know I hate eating there.
Me: OK, fine. Let's go to Jose's.
Wife: OK, that sounds good.

So we get to the restaurant get seated and she orders a salad. Not a taco salad, just a dinner salad.

Me: Is that all your having?
Wife: Yes, I'm not very hungry.
Me: Then why did you care if we went to the sports bar?
Wife: I told you I didn't care where we went!
Me: No, you said you didn't want to go there.
Wife: Your problem is you go to restaurants to eat!
Me: Yea. I'll confess to that. Why do you go to restaurants?
Wife: You wouldn't understand... just eat your lunch.

ICE

The weather man said it may snow today. He is wrong more than he is right but once in a while he gets it right. Sometimes you can tell just by the tone of his voice if he is right. I think most weather people know they are 80% bluff or BS however the other 20% they know what they are talking about. Like a couple of weeks ago I was listening to the local news and he said there was a 30% chance of snow and he said it with conviction too... I didn't have the heart to email him and tell him it was 100% chance of snow at my house.

Anyway, the weather man is saying snow, again, maybe. So yesterday I decided I should break up the ice in the fish pond before it gets freezing cold for 8 more days and instead of having 8 inches of ice I'll have something less.

Armed with my trusty 20 pound iron bar I started beating the ice. A crack here and a break there. It slowly started to break. I beat on it, punched holes in it, cussed at it and I finally did break it up. Huffing and puffing I put my tool of destruction back in the garage and congratulated myself on a job well done.

This morning I looked out at the pond and instead of having a smooth layer of ice I now have a bumpy layer of ice. I'm pondering where my logic went left while I turned right. What the hell, I needed the exercise.

Looks cloudy out... might snow.

What did you call me?

My wife rarely uses "bad" language. I accuse her of using big words when we have "discussions" about things we don't agree about. For instance, I might say, "It's going to be a nice day." Her reply, "Don't count your juvenile poultry before completion of incubation!" I'll say, "It looks like the clouds are clearing out." She says, "I see delineations in the cloud cover."

So with this in mind, when I tell you she called me an asshole you have to understand she didn't actually say "asshole," today she just gave me the "look" and then told me that if I didn't "shut up" she was going to hit me. HA! She is all of about 100 pounds and I might just scare a retired Denver Bronco Line Backer.... well, maybe scare is a bit strong.... Anyway, she could hit me all day and it wouldn't hurt... at least not much.

What really scared me was she didn't use a big word to say she was going to hit me. It's like she really wanted to warn me to shut up.

I was just hav'n a little fun. Trying to add a little raz-a-muh-taz to a Saturday evening. Nothing bad... honest, I was just teasing. You know what's really bad though? I don't remember what I was teasing her about.

I do remember shutting up!

Did Hell Freeze Over Too?

After 8 days and nights of freezing cold today it finally WARMED UP to a balmy 35 degrees Fahrenheit.

I have a fish pond on the backyard and you could ice skate on it if you wanted. I picked up a cobble stone that was pretty heavy, maybe 15 pounds or so. I lifted it over my head and threw it with all my might on the ice. It bounced! It left a small dent. Didn't even crack the ice.

If I were a fish I don't think I would want to live in my pond over the winter. Do fish hibernate?

On the 5 o'clock news the temperature had already dropped to 28. Tomorrow it is supposed to get to 39. Think I'll break out my shorts and tank top.

Zombie Chickens

And you thought there wasn't any life left in that 'ol spent hen. Guess again.

Chickens that have lost their usefulness to chicken farmers have to be, shall we say, administered to. The cold reality in the chicken world is when you can't make the grade in egg production there just isn't room for you.... anywhere. Many chicken farms take these "spent hens" and put them in a box filled with carbon dioxide and then bury their lifeless bodies to make compost. Some of these chickens aren't "euthanized" properly and they "come back to life" and crawl out of the compost pile. These crawlers are call ZOMBIE CHICKENS!

Let's get a few things straight here. If you are euthanized you are dead. If you are dead you can not crawl out of your grave.... you can't crawl anywhere... only live chickens crawl out of their grave. So the chickens that are called zombie's are really chickens that should be dead but are not either for tenacity on their part or stupidity on the part of the human who was supposed to euthanize the creature. In either case it doesn't speak well of chicken farmers.

There are a bunch of folks that are pretty upset with zombie chickens. It upsets some that they were not killed correctly. It upsets others that they are being wasted in a compost pile. And still others think they should be put out to pasture and live happily ever after. I don't know exactly which group I would line up after but I certainly don't want to be seeing a bunch of ZOMBIE CHICKENS cruz'n the 'hood. Did you ever hear the story about the chicken heart, lubdub, lubdub....

The Addictive Miss "C"

It was a relationship, maybe a love affair, certainly a bond between me and Miss "C". Yea, it was one of those love/hate things.

I was a good smoker... one of the best. The last thing I did before I lay my head on the pillow at night was crush Miss "C" in the bedside ash tray. In the morning before even getting up to pee I would grab a new Miss "C" and light her fire as I lay in bed. We smoked all day. In meetings. In the company cafeteria. In hallways. In my office. In bars. In restaurants. Everywhere! If Miss "C" wasn't allowed somewhere I didn't go there. And if someone had the audacity to insult me and my lover by asking me to snuff out her fire I would lay into them about my RIGHTS, about them getting a life, all kinds of crap. Oh yea, Miss "C" and I were into each other... into it hot and heavy.

One thing I think very interesting is almost the whole time I was never ADDICTED to her. Not me. I could drop her in a New York minute with no problem, no regrets... I just didn't want to. I hung with Miss "C" because I wanted to, my decision, my right. Yea, sure.

I noticed on my right hand, the skin between my middle and index fingers was brown. It was nicotine stains. Not only that there were little bumps on the skin. They itched. I thought I should change which hand I used to hold Miss "C". Kinda like switching to menthol's when I had a cold... better for you. In the back of my mind I was wondering.... if this is what my fingers look like, what might my lungs look like? Do you think there were bumps on them too? Can your lungs itch? In addition I noticed that laughing always finished with coughing. I wasn't alone, many others who were having love affairs with their own Miss "C", always finished laughing with a cough or a lot of coughs. I also noticed that a lot of people who didn't smoke also didn't like to be around those who did smoke. I found I was limiting my friends to only smokers as the trend to not smoke grew. Other smokers didn't give you shit about smoking. I saw smokers standing outside of places that didn't allow smoking. Unlike me, they were hooked. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know something is driving you to stand out in the cold, freezing your butt off, just to inhale that addictive poison. I started to wonder, on and off, who was in charge of me? Me or Miss "C"?

My life seemed to revolve around Miss "C". Before I went out I had to check to make sure there were enough smokes. Did I have fluid in my lighter. Extra flints. Matches in case the damn lighter quit. Very few times in my life I actually ran out of cigarettes. When it happened I searched the house. I looked in drawers, dressers, jacket pockets, car, glove box. Check the ash trays; any butts long enough to light up? Damn, had to go to the store. Snowing, no problem. Blizzard, no problem. Half drunk, no problem. If Miss "C" wasn't there I was going to go get her and nothing was going to stand in my way. Miss "C" was clearly in charge. In charge of every minute of every day.

She had to go.

I had tried to drop her a number of times and I would always crawl back. I was going to rid myself of her or die, literally, trying. I made the decision... again.

It was one of the best decisions I ever made in my life. After all the failed attempts I finally made it. It was January 1, 1986. I remember that last cigarette, my last kiss of the addictive Miss "C", like it was yesterday. It was about 2:30 AM, the wife and I had just returned from a party. I got out of the car with my long time companion Miss "C" in hand. Standing in the driveway I took a last drag on her filthy orifice and flicked her into the gutter.

At the end of this near 30 year relationship was a new feeling... fear. I was afraid I couldn't live without her. I might fail... again. What would my friends say about not being able to give her up. We were always together for those many, many years. At times I would call her names like fag, cancer stick, smoke, butt, coffin nail but we always got back together. She was very forgiving. I remember one time I gave up on her for about 6 weeks (of hell). At a weak moment, in a bar I think, she touched my lips and the affair was on again only hotter and heavier than before.

In a little over a month from now our anniversary will be upon us. Back in 1986 I thought of Miss "C" often. I missed her so much... I was in mourning. I was afraid she might not stay dead. Now, I think of her from time to time and wish she could be a fond memory like most other loves. It isn't to be. It took me a long time to realize Miss "C" was really killing me. She was poisoning me. She stole my will power. She made me do things I didn't want to do. She controlled my life.

No more.

Headline: Texas Mall Lures Rich Mexican Shoppers

I just read it! It's an Associated Press news release.

After all I've heard on the evening (tell me what to think) news about those Mexicans coming into the US and taking our welfare money, congesting our emergency rooms, demonstrating against us by burning the US Flag, yadda, etc, yadda, etc... Only now is the news telling us that we have been blessed by the "rich" Mexicans coming to a Texas Mall near you to spend their dollars.

It was with great interest I read the story because I was curious that there might be a "rich Mexican" and also because I wanted to know if they were spending dollars as in US dollars or peso's.

The story said the Mexicans like to shop in the US stores. They buy name brand items. They take shopping as a family affair bringing the kids and extended family (Cousins, Aunts, Uncles). Many of the Texas border towns are very excited to have them come over the bridge.

One family from Monterrey bought shoes and clothing, spending around $400. Another woman who was obviously better off than the "rich" family from Monterrey spent $1000 on her trip from Ciudad Victoria.

The retailers in Brownsville say about 35% of their sales are made by Mexicans. McAllen reports about 26%. Having been to Texas and seen the border towns I know this has to be a bunch of crap. Hells bells, these towns are about 80% Mexican, many... or dare I say MOST are not even rich!

I am glad these rich people have found a place to spend their money. I'm glad the news has another point of view of Mexicans besides the doom and gloom of low rent, leaches plundering our streets lined with gold. I'm very glad they were spending dollars and not pesos... who wants pesos? I'm amazed it took so long to read the story.... now if we could only get it on the evening news....

Traffic School ~ A Rip Off

If you have read my blog from bottom to top you'll know that I got a traffic ticket, went to court, paid my fine and opted to go to traffic school so, if I'm a good boy, the ticket will never show on my record. So I went to traffic school Monday night.

I have been to traffic school before. 6 or 7 years ago my wife and I went so we could get a 10% reduction on our auto insurance. It's boring. They don't tell you much that you can't read in the little booklet the DMV hands out. It's boring.

This school was also boring and, to my surprise, the "teacher" was the same cop who gave me the speeding ticket. Now I don't have anything against this cop. He was OK with me and I was speeding. But this "class" was not what I would consider a traditional traffic school.

Why? In my ever so humble opinion:

• There is no certification that is recognized by anyone except the city that "forgives" the ticket.
• There was no receipt, diploma, attendance certificate. Nothing to prove you went to "school."
• The class set the agenda by telling the teacher what they wanted to talk about.
• I think it is a revenue generator for the city and that the city is using it's authority not only to issue traffic violations but also to forgive them.... for a fee that is disguised as a traffic school (good for me since I was ticked for speeding).

What I did get out of the class besides having my ticket forgiven (if I'm good for 6 months) was to hear what most of the police allow for speeding in town.... 10 mph over unless you're doing something else beside just speeding like being careless or road rage... stuff like that. They also told us where they spend most of their time. Explained how their laser speed detector worked. Of course a few war stories about accidents and deaths.

Although I thought the whole thing was a rip off, on the other hand it allowed me to get my ticket deferred so that part was worth it to me (I didn't have to go, I elected to go). The "education" from the school was missing.

New Subject..... I would like to comment about the police in general. I observed a few of my friends from high school who joined the Denver police. In every case they changed their attitudes toward the "civilians" and their circle of friends became ONLY other police officers.

So what's wrong with this you may ask. These people have a lot of power. What they do is largely dependent on their judgement. I think the longer police are in the job they become segregated from the general population. I can't blame them, they deal with the low life, scum bag, violent and what ever people day in and day out. They can't trust these people because if they do they will probably get hurt in a physical sense. After being exposed to this environment day in and day out the only trust they can allow themselves is with their peers in law enforcement (and hopefully with their spouses and kids). The general population, the civilians, can't relate to what these people go through in their day to day dealings with criminals and a lot of the "law breakers."

Another thing to consider. Cops arrest people, give tickets, sometimes have to be a bit pushy. Sooner or later the people who have been arrested, jailed, imprisoned, fined... whatever, are back out on the streets. Do you think some of these pillars of society wouldn't like to see the guy who they blame for getting caught bleed a little? Maybe bleed a lot!

I've talked to some of these guys (never talked about this to a female cop) and some understand what I'm saying and agree. Others think I'm all wet and don't know what I'm talking about. That may be so. But if you are not a cop I'll bet you best friend isn't one either and if you are a cop I'll bet your best friend is one too. I'll even go a little farther and say, if you are a cop you probably don't have friends that aren't cops.

So, if your a cop and would like to discuss this lets meet for a burger and coke.... bet you sit with your back to the wall;-)

FWIW.....

Update #1 ~ Identity Theft Saga

Here is an update on what's going on with the Identity Theft Saga I first blogged about here.

Last week I received a letter from the collection agency in Florida requesting that I send them a police report, "....for client full validation of fraud."

Well, I had not filed a police report because I didn't have much to say about the ID theft except what the collection company had provided me and what I could glean from my credit report. By not much I mean: Company name that extended credit to the thief, something called a MID number and the amout the company is going to get stuck with.

But I did have a few letters from the collection company so I went to the local police department this morning. I have to say the police lady that took my report was so helpful. I was in and out in about 20 minutes with a case number. She told me that she used to create case reports on ID theft about once a month and now she is doing it about 6 to 8 time per day!!!!

So I wrote a letter to the collection company and gave them the case number and address/phone numbers of the local police (should have told them in the letter their phone number was 911, ha). Bet I haven't heard the last of this....

My RANT:

• Some company doesn't do their job by verifing who they extend credit to and then it becomes my problem.
• It appears so easy to open accounts with just a name and SS number, shouldn't there be a PIN or something.
• If the police in this small town are getting 6 to 8 ID theft reports per day can you imagine what is happening in a big city.... AND how much the companies that extend credit are eating. You know the consumer pays for this.... like corporate taxes. You do know this? Right?
• I wrote my congress rep.... Mr Salazar but he didn't give a rats rear end based on the canned response I got.
• How do you get someone who can do something about this to listen and ACT?
• The law requires that I have a SS number.... so where are they when things go bad? Another example of being confused between the law and justice. I can't get no justice here!
• Apparently I was wrong when I said the Social Security folks would not give you a new number.... they will but they warn you that it may (most likely) affect your credit and benefits.

Stay tuned for updates. I'm guessing about a month or so.

Headline: 1 in 3 Babies Unplanned

The Guardian (news) located in the UK reports: One in three babies is conceived by mistake, the result of missed pills and split condoms. The article goes on to say that women aren't in as much control over conception as they thought... because they forget to take their pill!

So let me put this another way... I'm driving my car down the street and approach a stop sign. I forget to stop and t-bone some guy in the middle of the intersection. When the cop arrives and is trying to determine who screwed up I won't be given a ticket because I forgot to stop? Honest officer, I wasn't in control of my car... I forgot to stop!

Or then, "OH MY GAWD, I was with John-boy last night and we screwed until I could hardly walk and I don't think I've taken my pill for 5 days... Ah SHIT, I forgot!"

I'm just not in control of my live, my body. Now I'm pregnant and all because the damn pill didn't work. Sure.

And about the split condom. Right. What probably happened is the sucker falls off as soon as he does his thing. She wants to know why there is a wet spot when the condom should have contained the semen. "Well, darling," he says with a deep voice, "the damn thing split because I'm such a man." Sure honey, sure.

I will leave you with this to ponder:

My Day in Court

Yesterday was my day in court. I was awarded a traffic ticket about 6 weeks ago. I'm thinking it was because I won. All those other cars were falling behind and I got to the stop light first. The only guy who could keep up was on this motorcycle and he was a cop... OK 42 in a 30 was a bit excessive.... I still won and got my award. So off to court I go. I've always found court interesting. My last ticket that I'm admitting to was back in 1973 since then and until today I was only in court for jury duty. Having to be in the cast of characters once every 33 years is OK but there is never a good time for this type of thing.... mostly because it usually costs money. Back in 1973 I was in court for the same thing I was in 2006, speeding. I don't remember how much I was over the speed limit in 1973 but I do remember when I went to court I had to pay a fine of $15 and that included court costs. Yesterday I had to pay a fine of $75 plus $15 in court costs and an additional $50 for tuition to driving school. Total $140. I was, however, allowed to put it on my credit card and didn't have to pay a surcharge which was a surprise to me. At court we have the judge who was a woman about 40 years old or so, a Assistant District Attorney who was in his 40's also and all us law breakers armed with our check books. The judge explained to everyone about their rights and what type of plea a person can make in her court.... Not guilty. Guilty. No contest. She explained that the sentence for guilty and no contest would be the same but with a no contest plea you were not saying you did anything wrong your just saying your not going to argue and will pay the fine. Of course it still counts against you just like you had said, "I be guilty, I did it and I have no excuse." This was the 10:30 performance. Apparently there was also an 8:30 performance as the first lawbreaker in front of the judge was a teenager who was supposed to be in court at 8:30. The judge asked the teen why he wasn't in court at 8:30 and he said he over slept. She told him to go sit down and she would take care of business with him AFTER she finished with the players of the 10:30 drama. He said to her, ".... but I have to be at work in 30 minutes." She said, "You should have gotten out of bed and been in court on time then... have a seat." Ah, justice is truly blind. Next was a older gentleman who was given a ticket for having 2 dogs "at large" and also given a 2nd ticket for interfering with an Animal Control Officer. He was armed with a brief case full of documents and had a bunch of questions for the judge. Basically he felt he was innocent but in order to get a trial he would have to plead "not guilty" and he was reluctant to do that. So he hemmed and hawed and asked the same question 6 different ways. The judge finally told him that he would have to make a plea.... he just stood there and the judge just sat there. Finally after about 45 seconds he said he was sorry to take the courts time but would have to plead not guilty. He wanted to continue to discuss this with the judge but she wasn't hear'n any of it. She set a court date for the 1st of Feb. The 'ol guy slowly picked up his brief case and left the court room. I kinda felt sorry for him and it would have been interesting to hear what happened that brought him to court that day. I might add, the judge said this was his 2nd offense of "dogs at large" and that carried a $250 fine for each dog and for interfearing with the animal control officer could be a fine of $500 for the first offense. Getting into some serious money here. The judge called the names of a few folks that didn't show up. She issued warrants for them. Too bad for them cuz when the cops stop them anywhere in the state they will be arrested without a doubt. If you have a warrant out for you and they come across your sorry butt your next stop is in the slammer. There were a couple of teenage girls that really had a problem. They thought everything was funny. They kept rolling their eyes and whispering to each other. Each one had been cited for a traffic violation and when the judge called them up the ADA said they were not cooperative with the cop who stopped them and didn't have anything nice to say about either one. So instead of the usual $75 fine she hit both of them with $150 fine. They didn't care... made me feel a bit better. Then there was this guy with shaggy blond hair that was like a wired haired terrier. He was wearing a suit but didn't look very comfortable in it. When he got up to the dais I saw that he was wearing his suit pants down on his butt leaving a look like he was carry'n around a bag of shit in his drawers. I thought it made him look pretty stupid.... if your going to dress that way you should wear the cloths like they were made to be worn.... what if some gal wore her bra backward or around her stomach? I'm getting too old for this stuff. Finally it got to be my turn and the judge called out my last name. I stood and at the same time the guy who was sitting next to me stood. We looked at each other and immediately figured out we both shared the same last name. Weird huh. And he was sitting next to me. I shook his hand and then the judge figured it out so gave out the full name of the victim she wanted. Pretty efficient for a government operation. Quickly separated us from our money and sent us on our way.