Child Abuse

I have been inundated with news about child abuse travesties lately and I have to rant about this and get it over with.
I believe in:

1. Public Trials.
2. Mandatory Sterilizations.
3. State Run Orphanages.
4. Zero Tolerance.

It's all pretty much self-explanatory.
Politically, this makes me an "authoritarian"? It's a shame, because I think it's a great solution to the problem.
Public Trials would keep the public aware of each and every case, and also help tune the public's definition of acceptable and unacceptable behavior.
Mandatory sterilizations for convicted child abusers (This idea is specifically for pedophiles, but it can be expanded to include the chronic abusers).
State run orphanages, AND the legal ability for a parent to easily give up all rights and privileges of being a parent. (We have to offer an 'option', and terminate parents' rights in the process.)
We need to draw up specific guidelines to define abuse - legally.
Orphanages would solve the foster home shortage problem. The amount of money given to foster homes per child is more than enough to support a group home or orphanage.
A zero-tolerance policy would ensure enforcement.

This is a subject that is particularly close to my heart. My achilles' heel, if you will. It pains me deeply to hear about a mother who cut off her daughter's arms because "God told her to". Or a little boy who's mother deliberately burned him on the stove for wetting his pants, or scalded him with boiling water, or drowned all three of her children, or the molester in Florida who buried the child in his sister's flowerbed. I could go on but I can't see the monitor through my tears.

Damn these people.

I was at Crall's blog today and participated in a conversation about reprimanding another person's unruly children in a restaurant. I got to thinking about it.
I think they are right to correct the child, but their reasons are wrong.
Crall corrected the child out of personal irritation. An unattended child was banging on something repetitively, and Crall said "Stop". Unsurprisingly, the mother was offended.
I would have caught the child's eye and signed "Shhh" with my finger to my lips, then smiled. If the child didn't respond correctly I would have escalated to asking the child/parent/waitstaff to handle it.
The difference as I see it is: I perceive the child as a person who may not realize they are being irritating.
I would handle an adult the same. What if your officemate was thinking about something else and tapping absentmindedly, their pencil on the desk? Would you grumpily bark "Stop" and risk embarassing him/her in front of everyone? Or would you instant message/ sign language that the tapping is driving you batty?
Well, I guess that's not a good example, I know both types of people in the office also. But I would respect the dignity of the other person and discreetly handle it.
This is not a slam on Crall. I remember when I would take the hardline attitude towards what I considered to be bad parents. Since then I have grown older and I have re-defined bad parents.
The ones who's children are happily playing by themselves don't necessarily qualify as bad parents just because the child is a little noisy in public.
Children are not an annoyance. You shouldn't expect to control their thoughts or personality. The concept that "children should be seen and not heard" is wrong and outdated. Children, by nature, want to please. They want to be good. Give the child the "choice" to be good and they will usually take it.
I'll bet a "shush" and a smile would've solved the whole problem.

MsAmber

I Am Unworthy.

I love, yet dispise this culture of wastefulness I live with.
I know that I am among the elite, worldly elite, group of humans who is comfortable in the knowledge that I will have something to eat tomorrow, and the next day.
I feel this security should be a part of a world-wide minimum standard of living.
I am also not persecuted for my age/race/religion/gender/political beliefs, or financial status. This makes me what: Top 1 in 100,000 of the world's population?
How large is my responsibility for this?
I think this is what I was created for.

I have recurring dreams sometimes. They are very heartbreaking dreams.
The outcome is always that I can't save anyone.

On the edge of a canyon is a house-trailer with one half jutting out over the air and the other half on land. Inside the half on land is an old man with his beard grown to the table, he is catatonic. The inaccessible half has a window in which I can see a room full of red pillows and a tiffany lamp. There are a bunch (maybe 8?) kids playing with old-fashioned toys: stick-and-hoop, jumprope, and playing tag in the yard where I am standing. I know that I have to get the kids into the trailer before the sun goes down. The sun is across the canyon, and it is visibly moving downwards. Like in real-life.
The problem is: I'm made of nothing, and they are flesh. I reach out for the hula-hoop and it goes through my hand. I run into the trailer and start yelling at the old man - as though he were deaf- that I needed his help. It "is URGENT. Very URGENT." I see that he can't hear me, I stick my head out the trailer door and look right at the big orange sun as it's touching the horizon. I decide that I have to get 'her'. So I start edging my way over to the window. My toes barely hanging on to the little sheet-metal lip at the top of the skirting. My hands were grabbing the side-edges of the vertical sheet metal panels that serves as trailer siding. It was cutting into my fingers and I was so shaky and the flimsy ledge my toes were grasping was bending. I make myself not look down, I feel sick. All of a sudden I realize, the sun is halfway down, and now I'm becoming solid. That means the children are becoming ephemereal. I reach the window and look inside. It is 'me' sitting indian-style in the pillows. I bang on the window to get 'my' attention, but all 'I' do is pull the chain to turn off the tiffany lamp.
I am frustrated, but now I know that I have to do it myself, and hurry. I hustle my way back to the cliff's edge, since I'm now becoming heavy. I jump towards the cliff as soon as I think I can make it, scramble up the edge and grab the hoop. It becomes solid, I loop it over the heads of the kids, but they have faded too far, I wasted time and missed the exact moment when the children and I were of the same substance. . .

I realize that I have failed. The sun has gone down and I missed them. The heartache feels like swallowing a big rock, a bowling ball.
A couple of times I woke up sobbing.

Othertimes:
I walk back into the trailer and stare at the old man while anger fills up inside of me. I expand, I can feel the spark in my eyes, and the murderous energy that is swelling in my chest, so I blast off. I intentionally hit the ceiling in the corner to make the trailer go over the cliff, and I take off flying.

(Note: In my dreams there are two types of flying: One is like a rocket, where I blast off on my own energy. The second method of flying is where I have to climb up something and have faith that an updraft will catch me. This story is of the first type.)


MsAmber

It's Friday again, Yayy!

Today's Feng Shui tip is:
"Do enhance your money luck by planting in the SE (wealth) area of your garden or yard, any vegetables, flowers, or ornamental plants that you hope to sell or submit to a competition."

Hey, that's where my dead flower garden is. The little gray rabbit eats everything I plant there. I can't even get my peonies above ground. The little rabbit gnaws at the shoots.

I was kinda bummed out today at lunch. Rob packed me a sandwich on moldy butt-bread.
So I went to Long John Silver's and got a couple of little fish snackers.
I don't like moldy butt-bread.

I've got a question for you:
Let's say, hypothetically, I went to lunch a couple of weeks ago with my guitar teacher. He had written me a nice love-letter. It said things like: I believe things happen for a reason... God wanted us to meet... It is fate... etc. I read the letter, and handed it back, all I could say was: "Well, you have very nice handwriting." Then, when he walked me out to my truck, he DID kinda lean in for a kiss. I awkwardly jumped back, and said "No, uh uh."
Since then, I have skipped lessons. I haven't been to guitar class in three Thursdays.
Mostly it's because I don't know what to say. I feel kinda awkward about it, but I'm sure I would only have to tell him absolutely no way and he would be gentlemanly about it.
The part that I'm having trouble with is this: Should I tell Rob? He'll probably be mad at me anyway for having lunch with my music teacher. My new schedule isn't going to work with my lessons anyway, so he won't even question why I'm not taking lessons anymore.
I tried to apply the logic that if the shoe were on the other foot, would I want him to tell me?
--Probably not. I don't need to be given a reason to be jealous, especially when there is nothing I could do about it anyway.
This is purely hypothetical, by the way.
What do you guys think?

MsAmber

Hey, the company finally hired somebody new! Woo hoo!
Now I've been moved to a later shift. 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.
For the past 5 years, hubby has worked evenings and I work mornings. Our schedules are so obtuse that we only see each other for about an hour each night before I go to bed. It has kept the harmony between us, couples can't fuss if they never have anything to fuss about. This schedule change won't increase the amount of time we have together, but it will enable me to get more sleep of a night. I think the boss' motive is to make it so I will comb my hair and put on a little makeup before I come to work.
I hate combing my hair when it's wet. So every day I arrive at work with long, wet, uncombed hair. Around 9:30 or 10:00 I go brush it. I know, most of you wouldn't dream of leaving your house without your hair "just so", personally, I would love to have dreadlocks... No, not dirty hair, just organized tangles. I have actually very pretty hair, by the color and the length. You know how some dogs have two different textures of hair? Well so do I. The hair underneath the back has a different texture, and it has a slight curl, so it just loves to tangle up. I have tried different products at different times, sometimes I can control how badly it tangles, but when it gets this long, I just dread brushing my hair wet. I think it's time to start wearing double braids, and get some light bangs cut.

Ok. Two problems solved in one day!

I get to work a later shift, and I finally figured out what to do with my hair. Cool. Good Summer hair-do.

Thanks.

MsAmber

HNT - February 23, 2006

Me and Megabyte on the river.

I Look Like . . .

According to Genealogy.com
The two celebrities whose spawn would most resemble myself are:
Bebe Neuwirth and Bon Scott!

OMG! It's true!

MsAmber

How Quickly They Learn

Terrie brought her teenage daughter to work today.
I have an extra desk in my office, so she hung out with me most of the day. She, like many other teenagers, have a MySpace blog site. She showed me hers, and last weekend the other girls introduced me to theirs. Boy, they look pretty elaborate, very simple to setup and use, very graphically oriented. I would almost say the pages are a little too cluttered for my taste, but I was impressed with the teenage ingenuity.

She saw something she liked on someone else's blog and said aloud: "I wonder how she got that?"
"Asked the right question, you did, my little padouin."
"At the top of the browser, go to view, then view source." I said. Sometime shortly afterward, I told her to copy and paste her code into notepad before testing it.
I have to say this girl took to html like a fish in water. She got into the zone and started pulling snippets of code together and experimenting around. I gave her the briefest of instructions when she asked. Formatting text and closing brackets and such. By the end of the day, she was typing lines of code straight from memory. I'm still a cut-and-paste editor.
I know the relative intelligence of 16 year old girls, but I think I recognized a prodigy. She never knew that you can view the source of a webpage, once I showed it to her and told her the difference between html and xml, she read the code and started tearing it up.
Some people have the potential, some don't. This girl definitely has the gift.
She also has a new hobby that will keep her up at night for the next few weeks.
I told Terrie that I was a bit surprised at how fast her daughter picked it up.
That was fun.

MsAmber

The Bermuda Triangle - My Theory

This is my theory of the Bermuda Triangle.
I saw the recent television documentary about the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle, whereas they blame the sinking of the ships and planes on large methane pockets erupting and creating bubbles.
They couldn't be more wrong.

I remember experiencing firsthand the phenomenon of sound transmission through convex dishes. I was at a museum, playing in the childrens' area (nevermind how old I was), and they had two dishes facing each other across the room. The interactive part of the display was to whisper into one dish and the person at the other end of the room could hear you clearly. The shape of the dish concentrated the waves and sent them in a tight line across the room to the receiving ear at the other end. I had an epiphany.

What if we have natural dishes on Earth? These dishes on Earth would have been collecting whatever noises/energy waves are coming in, and beaming them back in a concentrated stream. What if there were three of them? As in: A Triangle. These three dishes may be oriented in such a way that their concentrated beams cross, along with the scattering affect of the surface of the ocean. Voila' We have a Bermuda Triangle. The radio beams would interfere with communications, the concentrated electrical energy would kill an engine, maybe magnetically interfere with navigation...

(Insert Einsteineum unintelligible formula here)

We really need to get some good equipment out there to test these theories. I'm willing to devote my entire life to understanding the Bermuda Triangle. All I need is a large Yacht, a couple of cabana boys, I mean, deck-hands, and a sizeable research grant.

Take that: Flubberwinkle.

MsAmber

The Rose Story

When I was 21, I hitchhiked to Denver Colorado. Carrying everything I owned in my backpack, I arrived in the middle of a windy snowy April. My intentions were to set up camp in the mountains and live the "Rocky Mountain High". Hopefully, I would meet John Denver, and he would see what a wonderful girl I am and marry me. Don't laugh, I'm serious.
I soon found out that the Rockies aren't very hospitable mountains, and they don't allow homesteaders. The "pure" water coming down off the mountains has a bacteria that makes you sick, and there isn't much in the way of edible vegetation. Anyway, I digress.
I decided to find a job. I went to a Denny's restaurant to drink coffee and read the help-wanted ads, I found an advertisement for a live-in housekeeper/nanny. I called the number and had to wait all day for an interview. I met my potential employer at 6:00 that evening, on a Friday, and spelled out my entire story. I have good friends all over the United States, and I provided them with all the personal references they could possibly want. I'm sure they were a little freaked out by me. I mean: I just hitchhiked there, I loved John Denver, and I told the truth always to my own detriment. But they hired me anyway. Yeah, how many of YOU would hire a girl right off the streets to move into your house and take care of your 2 children? Anyway...
They couldn't pay much, but the room-and-board was worth it. They even loaned me a convertible pickup truck to run around on errands. I did a good job for them, they only took issue with my cooking. I burned everything - which was a direct result of my not knowing how to cook at elevation. And I deep-fried everything else, which is a direct result of my southern upbringing. They were yuppie-type no-sugar, no-fat, mineral water, organic, no-candy for the children, freaks. The children survived inspite of my sneaking them candybars.
When I finally moved on from that fortuitous situation, I got an apartment. North Havana in Aurora. I needed to get on my feet quickly, so I found three part-time jobs in a row. A city bus picked me up at my door, and delivered me straight to work at Johnnies Diner. Then picked me up again and dropped me off at NewYork Pizza Boys. Afterwards, I walked down to the SunSpa, a tanning salon, and closed it up. Then caught the bus back up to my apartment. I needed money badly, and the soles of my shoes were wearing off. I had rent to pay, plus deposits and I was in survival mode.
One day, I noticed that one particular customer at Johnnies Diner had been flirting with me for days, and I made a little time to chat. He asked me out for a date. I was interested, so we set a date for the following Sunday.
Sunday came, and I couldn't find anything to wear. All of my clothes smelled like a fast food restaurant and one of my shoes was flapping. The bottom had separated from the top of my shoes and they were "talking" as I walked. I worked myself up into hysterics, because I didn't have anything to wear on a date. The guy knocked on my door. I was about to tell him through the door that I came down with a bad allergy overnight and I'm sorry I can't make it, then I saw that he was holding a dozen long stemmed red roses. (The Big kind).
I answered the door, and when I saw the roses, my eyes squirted tears. In my shame, I got angry and started beating him with them. I told him it was a terrible thing, I'm working three jobs and trying to pay my bills and he's throwing a hundred dollars away on a bunch of dead flowers and I don't even have a pair of shoes to wear! (The old Hysterical Woman fit.)
So, the guy did the only decent thing he could've done. He took control of the situation, had me come with him to the store. He bought me a pair of tennis shoes, took me back to my apartment and dropped me off, then I never saw him again.

This is the story of the Roses. I have told this story to many people. It is the reason that any man who knows me will never buy me roses. Again, another situation where I tell the truth to my own detriment.

MsAmber

Snow in Oklahoma!

Yeee Haw!
Git along little Doggies.

Hey! Where you going?

(Both Dogs ran straight to the back bedroom and lay down. They've decided they don't want to "go".)

Chicken Dawgs. I swear.

Yeah. I don't want to go out there either. It looks cold. I'll just wash laundry all day, and send the hubby out on any errands.

I opened all the curtains to let the light in, so I can enjoy the whiteness and beauty from the warmth of a freshly dried load of laundry.

Music playing - a little Shawn Mullins in the background...
This is going to be a very pleasant day.

Enjoy your Sabbath.

MsAmber 

HNT - Thursday February 16, 2006

 

Refugee Beans

The Real Meat And Taters

All this week I've had a topic that I wanted to blog about, but I couldn't think of a way to convey the ideas that I have on the subject, so I copped out with a couple of no-brainer posts.

The subject on my mind is this:
The Financial Fiasco that is Katrina Relief.

What about setting a standard? The minimum standard should include the sustenance items such as 'food stamp eligible' groceries. I think the massage parlors/liquor stores/tattoo shops should be sued for accepting government money intended for emergency relief for the Katrina refugees, anyone with an ounce of sense knew that wasn't in the spirit of the charity. The idea that it isn't illegal shouldn't be an excuse to throw propriety to the wind. I also think that the people/companies who took advantage of the confusion to extort monies should work it off on a chain-gang shovelling up the muck. CEOs in orange jumpsuits.
The problem here is the trashy culture. I can't claim it's black or white, its not racial, it's cultural. Welfare abusers, drug addicts, alcoholics... Why did we give them $2,000 cards? (Lack of accountability?)

We should have set up a few massive housing projects and kitchens. Have it fenced in and managed by the military. A Refugee Camp? If you have someplace else to go, then transportation will be provided, after you register with the Katrina emergency services. Otherwise you have a bed, bathroom and a hot meal (bean porridge hot, bean porridge cold, bean porridge in the pot - 9 days old.) Donated clothes and supplies are being delivered by the truckload daily.
This arrangement would have given everyone a chance to stop and breathe and plan out the next move. This would also have prevented the scattering of all the people. It was and is important to be able to identify every victim, alive or dead.
The elderly and those who needed a bit more attention should have been offered the cruise ships. (since we so hastily signed a contract.)
It should have been declared a "Police State" as soon as the first shots were fired.
We should have required people to register and receive their temporary identification cards as soon as it was practicable. Anyone not registering by mail or in person by a certain date will be ineligible to make a claim, (insert small print here: unless interviewed by an independent panel and found to have been unable to comprehend the simple instructions and/or in a coma). The persons registering fake addresses and fake social security numbers could be held on Federal embezzlement charges: 8 to 10 baby!
Oooh I'm so mad about this.
The real malfunction is that the majority don't think they did anything wrong. They have such a strong sense of entitlement, they really believe that the money they misappropriated somehow belongs to them rightfully. It's the culture of welfare.
Thanks Roosevelt.
I DO believe in a minimum standard of living for the downtrodden and disabled and elderly. I believe in military deferments in exchange for jail time. Judge gives the gangsta punks a choice: Army 4 years or Jail 4 years. I believe in State run daycare. I believe that school should only be mandatory up to the 8th grade, but free all the way through a bachelor's degree. I believe in orphanages, and taking kids away from bad parents permanently to be adopted or raised in the orphanage. I believe in community gardens, and I don't believe in planting anything that has no food value. (Why can't Apple trees be planted in Washington park?) I believe in homesteader's rights. I believe in accountability. Welfarians should have to turn in receipts to receive their next check. (Ooh, wouldn't that piss 'em off.)
I could go on. These things seem like common sense to me, I just don't get some of the decisions that people make.

MsAmber

How Observant Are You?

Your Observation Skills Get A B+

Your senses are pretty sharp (okay, most of the time) And it takes something big to distract you!

How Observant Are You?

Happy Valentine's Day!

Daily Quote for Monday Feb. 13, 2006

Sleepover

Since we have an Ice-Skating Birthday Party to attend today, I went out to the farm and grabbed my neice Haley and her friend Jazmine yesterday.
I'm a fairly hospitable person, so I let them have my room, (versus making them sleep in the kennel.) Well, I have an eclectic assortment of funny stuff in my closet. Wigs and costumes and junk jewelry. The girls were a lot of fun. They played with the guitars, DeeJayed with my computer. I never knew there were groups like "DeathWorm", or something... Then they started playing with makeup.
Here's the evidence...

My New Guitar Is Here!

Here it is! Isn't it beautiful?
I will get pictures in the daylight this weekend. I know the whole picture looks red.
The wall is pink. But I thought my lion statue would look good playing it...
I'm so thrilled about it. It is an Indiana Scout. It has a built-in tuner, and a pickup. But the best part is: It is the sweetest sounding guitar in the whole store.
I got a gig bag to keep it in. The store owner polished it up for me, and I had my first lesson with it tonight.
I can make pretty sounds come out of it, even if I mess up.
Ha. A Magic Guitar.
MsAmber

Things I Want To Unsee.

1. Goatse
2. Black Hawk Down
3. Decapitation video of Armstrong
4. My mother's naked post-autopsied body in the morgue
5. A dog dying of Parvo
6. Ethiopian starving children
7. Sally Struthers crying about Ethiopian starving children
8. A severely crippled child with bed sores
9. The eyes of the very first deer I killed
10. Motorcycle Face (which Crall so generously shared)
11. A rollover involving a trailer full of cows
12. All the "Faces of Death" videos
13. A real live hemorrhoid
14. "Monster" (the story of Aileen Wuornos)
15. Grandmother's cootchie
16. Friends in coffins
17. Friends going through chemo and radiation "therapy"
18. A baby goat dying in my lap
19. a man who blew his face off with a shotgun and lived
20. an infant crying with a baseball mitt-sized tongue sticking out
21. skinny cows at a farm - the farmer thought they could graze in the winter

I think that's about it.
They aren't in any particular order, and I don't think this list is comprehensive. There ARE some things I have been able to unsee, or block from my mind's eye.
Heaven forbid I should ever be hypnotised to remember...

MsAmber

7 more days till Valentine's Day

Kandelyn's birthday is on Valentine's day. She will be the big 12. She is having a skating party. I'm going, I made the hubby promise to go, my neice Haley is going, and I invited my office manager, Terry, also.
Terry and I are going to get our chubby butts out there and try to skate. I hope no-one brings a video camera. I imagine I can still skate. Haven't tried it in over 9 years, and that was attempting to use inline skates. Before that, I think the last time I went rollerskating was...
umm. Gee. I can't remember. Maybe when I was about 14? Yeah, 21 years ago. But I still remember what it felt like...
Rob muted the television the other night and looked over at me, very seriously and said: "Are you sure you want to go skating? You might be too fragile for that kind of activity."
Me? Too fragile? No way, dude. He said he was just being concerned about me, and he expects me to be laid up all weekend with a swollen ankle or something.
When did I become the kind of person that people worry about going skating? Did I become an old lady overnight? I can still work with the best of them. Sure, I'm slightly chubby and I have an office-chair butt, but nowadays who doesn't? (Ok, unfair question.)
So, next Monday I will let you all know how badly I hurt myself, ok?
Anyway. I'm getting a new guitar for Valentine's Day. I have been admiring a blue acoustic/electric guitar with a beautiful woodgrain design on the front. The back is shallow and curved, so I can reach around it better than most acoustic guitars. This will make it easier for me to take my lessons. Right now, I have to haul my amp around with me, and if I want to practice, I have to plug it in. Also, leaving my electric guitar out in the truck all day causes it to be out of tune. I have to tune it up every lesson.
I'll post a pic of my new guitar when I get it. It's beautiful.
Thank you Darlin'.
MsAmber

More On The Coverup...

And More Here about the cameraman Jose Ruiz

So... What about the Cover-Up?

Last week, Rob was watching the morning news on CNN and he saw a video of an L.A. Sheriff's deputy shoot one of our young veterans THREE times in the back.
Rob was outraged, and he called me at work.
When I got home that evening, I searched for any reference to the story, but they apparently covered it up with another traffic/beating story.
I finally found a little excerpt about it, but they said that the video has been confiscated until an investigation is completed.
The Deputy had the soldier, who was a passenger in the vehicle, get out and get on the ground. The soldier was an experienced MP, and he did exactly as asked. The deputy asked him to get up, the soldier repeated:"I'm getting up now", and as he slowly moved his arms around to get up, the deputy shot him three times in the back.
WHAT!!!???
Yep. The video was clear as a bell, the dialog was clear as a bell.
The soldier is ok. He is in the hospital and is expected to make a full recovery.
I think they pulled the video so as not to incite any riots. This is just the excuse that the anti-war protesters need, to stir up public sentiment.
So, "They" pulled the video, then substituted another traffic-stop-gone-bad news story to distract us.
I am very upset about this, and I have been waiting and searching for word of this travesty to appear on the news again.
Here is the report: Wednesday February 1,2006
LOS ANGELES, California (CNN) -- A videotape shows a sheriff's deputy shooting an unarmed Iraq war veteran who appears to be following orders to get up off the ground, and now the FBI is investigating for possible civil rights violations.
Elio Carrion, an Air Force policeman who spent six months deployed in Iraq, was to have rejoined his unit Tuesday. Instead, he was hospitalized in good condition.
The incident began Sunday night, officials said, when Carrion was a passenger in a blue Corvette that was speeding about 100 mph near the Chino Hills, California, area, east of Los Angeles.
The driver, whom authorities didn't identify, failed to pull the car over after police signaled to do so, leading to a five-minute chase that ended abruptly when the vehicle crashed into a brick wall, said Cindy Beavers, a spokeswoman for the San Bernardino County Sheriff's Department.
What happened next was captured on video shot by amateur photographer Jose Luis Valdez, who told The Associated Press that he recorded the incident after the car crashed in front of his home. KTLA-TV aired the videotape early Tuesday, then distributed it later in the day.
In the tape, an unarmed Carrion appears to be on the ground as a deputy sheriff stands above him with his gun drawn.
"Get up!" the deputy shouts. "OK," Carrion says.
"Get up!" the deputy shouts again. "I'm going to get up," Carrion says, and he begins to rise.
The deputy fires three shots, reportedly striking Carrion in the chest, leg and shoulder.
Moaning while on the ground, Carrion attempts to explain to the deputy he's an Iraq war veteran. "I mean you no harm," he says. "Shut the [expletive] up!" the deputy shouts. "Shut the [expletive] up!"
The deputy shouts that he has "one down," then again tells Carrion to "shut the [expletive] up."
"You don't get up!" the deputy says.
Then the tape contains the voice of a neighbor who appears to have watched the incident. "You told him to get up!" the voice says.
Beavers, the sheriff's spokesman, declined to release the name of the deputy involved in the shooting but said he was put on leave. She said Sheriff Gary Penrod had invited the FBI to join the investigation.
FBI spokeswoman Laura Eimiller and U.S. attorney's office spokesman Thom Mrozek confirmed the the agency's involvement on behalf of the Justice Department.
They said the FBI would look into possible civil rights violations. Media reports prompted the probe, Mrozek said.
Beavers said the sheriff's department would review the video forensically "to clear up any questions about dialogue."
"We think it is unfair to make any sort of judgment against any of the parties involved," she said.
The driver of the car, she said, was arrested on charges of felony evading.

Now, Aren't you a little suspicious about this?
MsAmber

Shoes

When I was a kid we had to walk 6 miles to school, barefoot, uphill both ways, carrying all our books. When it was icy out we wrapped barbed wire around our feet for traction. Yep, and they didn't give us "snow days", if you could crawl through the second story window, you had to be there. Yes sir, and we was grateful for the opportunity to get an education.

Sorry, couldn't help myself. Rob and I sat down this evening to do a little shoe maintenance. My tennies need cleaning, my boots need laces, Rob's dress shoes need polished, etc. We got to talking about shoes and childhood. We decided very few experiences are more traumatizing than not having nice shoes when you're a kid.
I remember when I was 11, I had a pair of big, thick leather shoes. The soles must have been about an inch thick, and they had big rounded toes. Like clown shoes. They were brown once, and they were scuffed up, so Mother decided that it would be ok to use black polish on them. Initially, they looked alright, but after a couple of days, the black started wearing off and they looked "antiqued". Yeah. Big round-toed clodhoppers that look antiqued.
I was always getting in trouble in gym class for not having appropriate shoes. I wore boots most of my life, and I was arrogant about it. I think it was a self defense mechanism, because I knew it was frivolous to ask Mother for tennis shoes when I was hand cutting sassafras branches to feed the animals because we couldn't afford hay. So I was always getting into fights with the principal and getting detention. Damn stupid teachers.
As an aside, I always thought it stupid to have physical ed/sports/gym in the schools. Think about it. That's what people do when they are out of school or out of work. Why waste my time making me play? It would turn a 7 hour day into a 6 hour day. Oh wait, I forgot, that would give teachers incentive to issue more Homework. I think it's stupid to make kids take work home. Don't make me take 3-4 hours of work home every evening. Nuh uh, no way. Teach them at school for 6 hours with half-hour for lunch, and don't waste their time playing in gym class.
If you really believe in fitness, require 20 minutes of calisthenics on the front lawn before first bell. The Chinese do it, and it works. There, ya happy?
Anyway, back to the shoes.
I was belligerent about my boots when I was in my early teens. When other girls were wearing see-through jelly shoes (ewwww, shudder). I wore my tall leather cowgirl boots. Had them re-heeled regularly, and kept them shined. I shared snippets of wisdom: "A person who don't shine the heels of their boots probably don't wipe their ass either." (Yes, I know, Appalachian grammar.) But I was also known as the "girl who used to dip Copenhagen".
The beginning of 9th grade, Mother got wise to my school dillema of the previous year, and to my utter shock and dismay, she bought a pair of bright-pink high-top converses. The K-Mart in Elkins had a back-to-school sale and for some cosmically ironic reason, they had huge bins full of these stupid flat canvas tennis shoes with the white rubber toe crescent, on sale: $7.00/pr. (Don't act like you don't know what a Converse is...) She put an end to my boots and denim jacket. She said if I don't wash my jacket she was going to throw it in the stove and burn it. But, MOM!
How cruel. Her motive was to stop me from being in detention all the time and bring me into compliance with the school rules. Hard soled shoes weren't allowed on the wooden gym floor, so I always sat on the bleachers and read a book. (Really, I didn't mind detention, and I don't think the principal was mad at me; I argued with him respectfully and I never pushed him too far.)
First day of school arrived and after much pleading, I got to wear my boots to school, but my new hideous tennies were in my bag. I was pleasantly surprised to find that all the kids were wearing them. It wasn't too bad, from then on I had to participate in gym class however.
You must realize that converse hightop tennis shoes were cheap ugly things when they first came out. Cons were as generic as you could get. Pretty soon we discovered the joy of doodling on your shoes. We would sit at our desks and draw on our shoes. Some kids got real creative with their artwork, reaching artistic heights comparable to that of a good tattoo parlor. And if you didn't like what you had drawn - just wash them and you have a clean canvas to work with. Ah, another lovely nuisance created by my generation.
I wonder how many times I got in trouble for drawing on my shoes instead of paying attention?

MsAmber

The Most Beautiful Piece of Jewelry

My birth month is October. As a matter of fact: nearly my entire maternal family is born in October. My sister's is the 3rd, brother - 19th, Grandfather - 23rd, Mother - 29th, and mine - 30th.
Mother gave me a beautiful opal ring 15 years ago that has been in my family for a very long time. I never memorized the story behind the original owner: It had something to do with a lady named Emma Dartheula Stentson, who married into the Pinckney family, and I think she died giving birth to her umpteenth child, a daughter.
I never knew much about it, it has no maker's mark, and it isn't in "mint" condition. The gold has worn thin and one of the rubies is missing. But I remember being mesmerized by the ring on my mother's hand as soon as I was old enough to focus. It has such a beautiful blue and green glow, that it looks like the earth from outer space. I'm sorry that my camera can't do it justice, it's only a 2.0 mega-pixel. But it is magnificent to behold. They just don't make rings like this anymore.

I think my fascination with the ring during my entire childhood is the reason she gave it to me. It's actually a little bit too large for my hand, but I won't let any jewelers touch it. I just know they would break my opals.
Anyway, I was surfing around for antique jewelry and I came upon this site. They definitely have California prices, which is a shame, because I found a companion piece to my ring.

This pendant appears to be made by the same person. See the way the settings around the small round opals are pressed-in instead of pronged? Except for the fact that this is dressed in diamonds and my ring is dressed in rubies, it looks like the same craftsmanship. Lang Estate Jewelry in California have this pendant and they want $8,950.00 for it. They say the design is from around 1890 and it's considered Victorian jewelry.

Ouch. I could never ever spend that kind of money on a piece of jewelry. Even my wedding set was under $200.00, by choice. I wouldn't want a $4,000.00 rock on my finger, that's just silly.

But ohhhh how I would love to own this pendant. It's simply the most beautiful piece of jewelry I have ever, in my entire life, seen.

(sigh)

MsAmber