Archive for the ‘crime’ Category

The Police Report

November 22, 2008

First let me clarify… I am in no way involved in the report.

We were at a bar-b-que enjoying the fine Texas atmosphere of cold beer, half drunk women draped across boisterous manly men, who raved about their heroes on the football field. Ya know, Basic Texas stuff.

We were joined by a couple of Houston’s finest, Boys in Blue. (the Law)

It wasn’t long before they too had cups of …ummm… soda (yeah I am sure they wouldn’t be drinking on the job)

One of the officers began telling of a report that he had to file some time back. It was a terrible accident scene. The rider of the motorcycle had been thrown off his bike and an arm severed.

The officer said, “I found his arm laying in the esplanade, but I didn’t know how to spell esplanade, so I picked the arm up and tossed it in the ditch.”

I almost did an un-lady-like thing and spit my drink all over the place. It was so funny hearing him explain. (not funny that some poor soul was had his arm severed and was killed.) But funny that the officer was so…

I don’t even know how to describe him… It sounded like a screwball twisted line from Scary Movie.

The funny part was knowing it was a real event. Life is funnier than any writer could ever imagine in a script. (well, it is for me in my Twilight Zone existence)


Overlook me for a few…

July 1, 2008

Warning: Today’s post is a rant… it is not pretty nor is it witty… Just getting shit off my chest.



Joe Horn Cleared by Grand Jury


I give Mr. Horn two thumbs up. It is because of this case that we have made pacts with some of our neighbors. We will shoot to kill to protect each other and each other’s property.


For those of you who live in Mayberry neighborhoods, I am very happy for you.

We don’t and we are not going to sit idly by while criminals continue to molest our neighborhood.


Last month we had three murders in as many weeks within two blocks of my front door and numerous home invasions, robberies, and car thefts. Between rivaling gangs, illegal aliens, and Katricians we have had enough.


If a son-of-a-bitch breaks into my home or my car, he better pray that neither I nor my neighbors are home.


Until criminals realize that we are not going to back down, they will continue to hold us hostage.


For those who ask, “Do you feel robbery is a justifiable reason to kill another person?” I say yes.


I do not allow the mosquito on my arm to steal my blood without trying to kill it. Neither would I allow the leaches to society to steal my property without trying my best to eliminate them. 


I will change my stance when a more viable solution is implemented which deters such acts. Perhaps we should take something from third world countries and lop off a limb??? 


This was not always my stand… But I am tired.


I get up every morning and go to work, rain or shine. I would prefer to sit on the sofa and sip Mimosas while flipping thru the morning news paper. I would prefer to spend my afternoons in the park watching the squirrels chase each other around the trees.


Alas, I have a mortgage, a car note, a light bill, and the desire to eat without relying on what is found in the dumpster behind Fogo’s. Short of going on welfare, I will need to work for another 15 or so years. I am ok with this…

But, I am tired.


I am tired of watching my back for thugs who are preying on the inattentive. I am tired of double checking my locks when my dogs are going nuts. I am tired of criminals being handed light sentences and then being set free to continue on their path of robbing, burglarizing, raping, and killing the unsuspecting.


I sincerely hope a four day weekend of Mimosas and S’mores will adjust my attitude and put me at peace… Right now, I just don’t see it happening.

Boyz in my Hood

June 2, 2008

… And other random thoughts…

Many, many thoughts are playing a wicked game of Pong in my brain this morning.

Technology – It appears that 1 in 5 Americans have never sent an email. related article I envy those who are not chained to the Internet. From peeking at my email this morning, I feel that I more than compensate for the 20 percenters and am willing to share with them.

Logic in Billing– I snicker whenever I open an invoice and find the amount due is less than the 42 cents. The vendor has thus lost money by generating an invoice and placing postage on same said piece of paper. Today’s offender sent an invoice for 24 cents … 😀  And then I grimace because I will be spending 42 cents to send them their check for 24 cents. We do about 600,000.00 to 700,000.00 in business with them every year. If I ran the world, I would wash these senseless transactions.

Insulting others – How do I choose who to pick on? I realize I use the same system as comedians… I chose you simply because you were available. Actually it is more fun to pick on myself because I know that I can handle my own wrath wit. (And I am always available)

Copyright Infringement – I was reading a comment left on  Joan’s Blog about plagiarism and felt the urge to crawl under a boulder. I am a flagrant offender. It is not that I ever want anyone to think the work is my own; I am usually lazy about posting appropriate links. I simply add that “I read somewhere” … Lazy, lazy… and very wrong of me. I am not calling out Joan. She is very good about posting links.

Sometime back I received an email from the attorney of an author/photo journalist whom I admire and link to on numerous occasions on a different blog. He left his address, phone number, and name with a request for me to contact him as soon as possible. I had a sinking feeling that he did not want information on how to forward the royalties of the Author he represented.  It was not as bad as I had presumed. It turned out that he was concerned for my safety because of a threat I had received in correlation to one of the author’s articles. (There are some very twisted people in the world) The author agreed to let me slide on posting a couple of his pictures, as I was very good at linking back to him. *whew*

I am making a pact to be more diligent in giving props to respective borrowing on the net.

Cleaning my ring– Glancing down and noticing what resembles mud around the diamond on my ring, I reach for a drafting pencil (.5mm lead HB should be the correct hardness for mud removal). *note to self* lead adheres to filmy surface of dirty ring.   

Crazy Dreams part 1– I wrote myself a note when I first woke up this morning. It simply states, “People do not want to listen to you when you call them a dumb ass, not even in dreams.” Unfortunately I cannot remember this particular dream… Safe to assume that I might have tried to get someone to respond with derogatory verbiage and they did not respond as hoped. *shrugs* I need to become a better note taker as “Slag” has absolutely no meaning to me 4 hours after writing.

Crazy Dreams part 2– This was one of those ‘wakes up in a fear induced sweat’ dreams. I am riding a city bus and I am carrying a 5 gallon propane tank that needs filled. As you can see, my dreams are not logic based. I have nothing that runs on propane and I have never ridden a city bus. The bus driver lets me out in a hood that makes my hood look like Disneyland. There are thugs holding up people everywhere I turn. For some strange reason I am being followed by my son who is only 5 or 6 years old. I make him wait at the bus station while a walk across the street to the propane place. The guy filling my tank is too busy trying to pour pink lemonade back and forth from his glass to a big water cooler… and growling that the lemonade is mixing with the water. All this time I have a sinking feeling that my son is in danger, and I can’t find where I left him.

Even when your children are all grown up, you never stop having worries and nightmares regarding their safety.

… and finally The Boyz in My Hood– Sunday Mr. J stopped in to visit one of his buddies and I made a quick dash to pick up some starter fish for the new aquarium. I also picked up some milk, eggs, orange juice and a variety of fresh produce to get us thru the week. I was gone about an hour tops, I pulled into my driveway and another car was sitting there. My heart leaped into my throat. Seriously, I had to gather a bus load of moxy in order to get out of my car.

I swear, this was the first time in a month that I left the house without a gun and I felt so vulnerable.  

Sitting in my driveway were three gang-bangers. Survival mode kicked in (sort of). I had to decide which items in my car were worth leaving behind, as there was no way I could load my arms up and still be able to defend myself if they got out of the car. I picked up my purse, the fish and the milk and beat a hasty path to my gate. Once inside the gate I hit the alarm to my car and went inside. As I was putting the milk in the fridge, my car alarm went off.

I peeked out the window and saw them looking in my direction and laughing. I really don’t know what the smart thing to do would be. So, I did the other thing… I grabbed my gun and my camera, stepped out in plain view and snapped a few pictures of them and went back in the house. I decided that if I am going to be robbed (or worse) I am going to provide the police with a good lead.

I think they were there waiting on Mike to come home so that they could buy some shit from him…

To coin a comment left on an earlier post by Taoist Biker … My  ‘Operation: Exodus’ cannot come soon enough.  

A Weekend in the Hood

May 27, 2008


Let me try to recap my weekend. Saturday was lovely. Mr. J took me for a drive to Galveston. With the rising prices of gas, this is becoming more and more of a luxury. We don’t often cruise just for the fun of getting away for a few hours. We are much too consumed in tucking away every penny for our move out of the hood.

The  East end of Galveston was congested and the streets were tough to maneuver. We had packed our cooler with drinks and goodies and travelled on thru to the West end of the island. We cruised up and down the streets of Jamaica Beach, Sea Isle, and Bay Harbor… getting out and looking around the homes for sale. No, we are not moving to Galveston as the commute would bankrupt us. But, we had a blast acting as if we were looking for a potential weekend vacation home.

I wonder how it would be to have a vacation home on the Island. A home that could very easily be wiped out each and every hurricane season… and having enough money that you simply rebuilt the home with a shrug… because, after all the beauty of the ocean is worth the price at any cost.

We cruised over the little toll bridge that connects the West end of the island to the land mass East of Freeport and cruised the long way back home again…

Back to the hood.

Back to reality.

Back to the nonstop drug deals, the petty thievery, the street fights, the angry glares, the nervous walkers, the loud stereos, the barking dogs…

Craving a few more minutes of waves crashing and gulls screeching over fish in the bay.

We sat on the back patio and grilled beef for fajitas and sloshed down a pitcher of margaritas and dreamed of a vacation home on the beach.

Sunday Mr J had to go into work for a few hours. I crawled out of bed and cooked him breakfast and crawled back under the covers falling back to sleep. It was sinfully magnificent. About 9am I sheepishly threw the covers off and faced the day.

I caught up the stack of laundry and straightened up the piles of ‘stuff’ that seem to accumulate thru the week. All day long listening to my dogs barking as each doper came to the neighbor’s house for a fix. We try to tell each other that it is ok, as long as the crap does not effect us personally. As long as the crack heads don’t vandalized our cars or try to rob us for drug money… As long as bullets don’t fly in our direction… As long as they don’t come to the our house looking for drugs… As long as no one kills our dogs to keep them quiet… As long as no one hurts US!

But it is tough to sleep thru the barking, not knowing if this time someone is stealing a car stereo, or jacking up a car to steal the tires, or syphoning the gas out of the tank…

One can only take so much before they crack… We are so close to that stage and there is not enough tequila to smooth out the rough edges in our hood.

And then there was Monday… Memorial Day. A day when we should have reflected on the sacrifices of those who gave all for our country. A day when we would normally go to Uncle Joseph’s grave and put a flag and a wreath on his head stone.

But, we spent the day trying to refuel emotionally from the crazies in our lives. It was a good day…

Until the sun went down…

7:30 it all started again, the dogs were going nuts, leaping against the tall wooden fence. They were whipped into a frenzy. And so it began…

Mr. J would go out and talk to the druggy as he was trying to get Mike to come out and sell him some shit. Mr. J would stand there, making small talk, knowing Mike would not come out with him watching. It is almost funny having a drug dealer around who is scared of his own shadow. He puffs his chest out and carries his big 44 Magnum around, trying his best to act tough… But, Mike will run and hide at the first sign of trouble. I can make Mike duck his tail and run… Mr. J makes him piss his pants in fear.

This went on for a couple hours until I had had enough of the show and crawled into bed. Shortly after turning out the bedroom lights and relaxing into an almost sleep state, I am jarred by the familiar glare of helicopter search lights coming thru my window.  Fuck! This is going to be one of those nights.

About once a month or so, they bring out the police helicopters searching for a fool in my hood. The helicopters are shining the spot lights in the trees, bushes, around vehicles and, it appears, in my bedroom in search of the perp.  

This all gets my adrenaline pumping and it will be impossible to drift off to sleep so I wonder back down stairs to play solitaire, hoping  to lull myself back to sleep.  All the while my dogs are going crazy…

As soon as the helicopters move on, Mr. J went back out to see what was going on.

One of our neighbors was being beaten… Severely… In our driveway. He was being beaten to the point where he was no longer holding his hands up to deflect the blows. This man probably deserves a good ass whoopin or two, as he has a bad habit of stealing from the hood. He will break in and take your stove and refrigerator if he thinks you are going to be gone long enough. He has no problem filling his gas tank with the gas from your car… Or taking your screens for his house.

Mr. J stepped in and pulled the man off of George. “Man, it just isn’t worth it,” he told him. He helped George find his glasses and his shoe. I am not sure how he got the shoes beaten off of him…

“George, go home,” Mr J insisted. All the while, Mike and two of his drug buddies were crouched down behind the fence. It was only after Mr. J broke it up that they came out and said they were prepared to help if things got out of hand.

Out of hand? You stupid mutha-fuckas (excuse me… but, I have not slept all night and am a tad bit bitchy this morning) George was being beaten to a pulp and you stayed hidden while Mr. J faced an anger crazed man by himself.

Mike drove off with a man crouched down in the seat beside him… (We wondered what was up with that?)

We went back in the house and shortly after the dogs went off the hook again. At this point we are tired and just want them to shut up. It is almost midnight and we both need to be up by 4:00am.

Mr. J stepped out front, wanting to walk around the house and surprise the fools out there. Looking down the block in the direction of George’s house, we see George laying in front of his house… the same man was again beating him, this time using a can.

I hollered out, “Honey, be careful. The cops are on the way.” The guy dropped the can and took off on foot. At this time George’s wife opened the front door and helped him in. She had been too afraid to open the door. Maybe I am psycho, but I know I would have killed someone who was beating my husband in the head with a can.

We still have no idea why George came back outside after Mr. J helped in the first time. Was he trying to seek revenge? Was he out looking for the shit that had been knocked out of him the first time?

About this time, dumb ass Mike pulled back up. He was alone. Mr J asked him what was going on… Where did he go? Who was the guy in the truck. Mike explained that the guy in the truck was hiding from the police because he had just held up the corner store. (The helicopter in the hood earlier had been searching for him) All thru the first fight, he had been hiding under Mr. J’s truck and the son of a bitch was armed.

Mr J said, “Mike you know you just aided and abetted a criminal fleeing from the police. You are an accessory… You are a dumb ass.”   

Mile was so scared… “Uh No, Mr. J… I had to or he said he was going to shoot me.”

“Mike, I’m not stupid. This is your buddy. You are selling him shit every week. He is not going to shoot you.”

Mr. J came in and we had hot cocoa and tried to lay down for an hour…

We both fear this issue is not settled. George has too much insane pride and will try to kill the guy. The guy will be back to see if he can finish George off this time. The fool hiding from the police will be back to buy more dope and Mike will be out peddling.

Mr J will be out intimidating the fools who drop by and I will be lurking in the shadows with my gun, just in case he needs backup.

As we layed in bed I giggled, “Honey we are living  The Wire. 

He paused for a moment and said, “No Shit!”




May 20, 2008

Is it a case of an over active imagination or an acute sense of awareness? You decide…


The question at hand is the business across the street from me. My desk sits facing a large picture window which gives me an excellent view of the street and of the business directly across form me.


On a slow day I may sit for hours watching the scenes unfolding across the way. Just call me Gladys Kravitz. I have my very own “Drug Cartel – God Father – Fast and the Furious – Training Day” movie playing out for my daily amusement via my picture window.


I should note that the business runs under 4-5 different business names and tax ID numbers. I know this because we have done work on their building and they have asked us to bill it to one or another of their names and I always ask for a W-9


Here are a few of the ‘whimsical’ events I have witnessed:


1.) Stretch Limousine sitting in front of my window in our parking lot. BMW comes out of the shop across the street, driver of the BMW gets out, walks to the limo and hands a brief case thru the back passenger window. An arm (I must assume a body is attached to the arm) reaches out of the limo and hands the BMW driver a large envelope. The limo pulls off. The driver of the BMW drives back across the street and pulls back into the shop.


As this is unfolding, I am on my cell phone describing the events to Mr. J. and he keeps saying, “Stay away from the window. Don’t let anyone know that you are watching. Stay away from the damn window!”  How can I watch if I move away from the window?


*side note* My blinds are set at an angle so that I can see out, but people outside cannot see in.


2.) …  this one happens regularly… Two or three souped up little Toyotas will pull into the shop, one after the other. They are in their less than ten minutes and then they all pull out together and jet down the street.


I know I am being presumptuous… They are just pizza delivery boys making a pizza stop. There is no way they are picking up or delivering anything illegal. That would just be wrong.


3.) The Porsche incident – Two identical black Porsches pull into the parking spaces in front of my window. They are no more than 3 feet from the window. If you are not familiar with the Porsche, the trunks are in the front. They both pop their trunks and swap brief cases.


I swear one guy looked up and looked right at me. I froze, thinking maybe he could see me… But they went about their business, shook hands and drove their respective ways.


Again… My imagination or they were merely trading lunches?


4.) Cop pulls in and I am sure they are finally going to get busted. No way! A young lady comes out, leans in the window of the patrol car and hand the officer a package. Funny how he comes by for his ‘package’ on a regular basis now.



Is my mind playing games with me, keeping me locked in TV movie-land? Is the young woman handing her husband, who happens to be a cop, his lunch as well? Maybe I don’t know all the businesses across the street. Perhaps they also have a business license for Deli services.


5.) Truck loads of big screen TV’s being unloaded one day and loaded onto another truck the next day.


Again… another business license that I am unaware of. They must also be a part-time warehouse for a home theater installation business.


6.) Very, very expensive cars unloaded, driven into the shop for 20-30 minutes, and loaded back up into the trailer of the Semi.


I am guessing the owner of same said expensive car sent it to Houston to have them install one of the warehoused big screen TVs.  Or more likely an alarm, right? There is a logical explanation… Right?



Saeed and the boys across the street ARE honest, law abiding citizens, who’s only faults are running a business (or 8 ) across the street from an imaginative woman.

“You go home now…”

April 29, 2008

Her words haunted me all night. “You go home now.”

After work I stopped in at the corner convenience store. The husband and wife who run the store are the best. Every week they order one loaf of Oroweat Health Nut bread just for me. One loaf of wheat bread sitting on the shelf with all the fluffy white bread.

It tastes so yummy when toasted and the butter has melted in…

Back to the store… I walked by the counter prepared to chit-chat for a few minutes, asking about their son who is in the third grade, discussing crazy gas prices and plans for the weekend.

But, it was so different. They were edgy and the wife said, “No more bread. You go home now.”

She pointed to the door and said again, “You go home now.”

I know that my hood has dropped into the crapper. I am very aware of the little gangsters that are mulling around outside.

I leaned a bit closer and asked if she was OK.

She looked so tired, so scared… Life is beating the hell out of her and our hoodlums are weilding the stick.

She sounded so sad when she replied, “No more bread here. Just go, please.”

As I was turning to leave a punk runs in screaming at a guy who is leaning on the counter, “This is bull shit. I paid you for three and you only gave me two.”

The guy punk-ass dealer at the counter reaches in his pocket. At this point I am worried about a gun. She had warned me, practically pushing me out of the store… Now, I was trapped. We were all trapped.

We all moved quickly to the back of the store. People have asked me why I am getting a concealed weapons license… If I could convey the helpless feeling, while crouching in the back of the little store, you would understand. If the jackass decided to kill us all, we would have been armed with nothing more than bottles of milk and juice.

As it turned out, the punk handed the other punk a bag of something and they cursed at each other and they both left the store.

This was at 4:00 in the afternoon. Dealing drugs in plain view in the middle of the afternoon! Mutha-fuckas…

I want to cry… No, I want to scream… No, I want to slap the shit out someone… I need to move.

“You go home now…” The dear sweet woman, I pray she makes it home alive as well.