One year ago today: July 9, 2014, on horizon recession.
Five years ago today: July 9, 2010, remember SpoofNet? I do.
Six years ago today: July 9, 2009, my last good table saw.
MORNING
Food. Always a blog winner on a nothing day. For anyone who just arrived, I concluded a few years ago that the culprit for my (and millions of other Americans) ill health is the diet. I know, use common sense, but remember that I grew up in an era where the government generally protected the citizens and not the corporations. And they said the food was okay. I have another personal fact to report. I no longer have carb face, like the guy in these photos has. Big time.
Bread. Since I don’t know what commodity is causing my symptoms, I eliminate one food group at a time. This has had no long term benefits until a month ago when I stopped consuming bread. What? You bet, no bread at all. Not even my morning cinnamon bun at the bakery. Nothing happens for three weeks when suddenly, you lose inches, not pounds. Dang, because I really like bread.
From what I’ve seen, it is off my diet for the results are undeniable. My shirts don’t strain at the bottom button, my face lost that middle-age puffiness, and I can slide right into my jeans sitting down. Normally I’d eat six or eight slices per day and now it must be eliminated entirely. Why? Because even one slice and it somehow resets that 21 day waiting period. And that stretch is far easier said than done. No wonder people hate dieting.
NOON
“Smile first thing in the morning. Get it over with.” ~W.C. Fields. William Claude Dukenfield.
I’m finishing [the book] “Corpus Delecti”, which is more of a treatment of how the law will bend even the requirement for a body to prove murder. The impression is no body, no murder, so how do lawyers and police go about building a case? That’s what I’m getting from this true story about a playboy type (Scott Ewing) and his missing wife 23 years older than him and very wealthy. For 1955, I mean.
That’s Barb in the photo, quite the babe in her day. This is at her trial, age 32. Myself, after an incident where I reported a theft in progress as a good citizen and was held for three hours while they checked me out, I doubt I would talk to the police even as a witness unless I was coerced.
In a disturbing number of cases, suspects were tricked by the same police questioning technique. The tactic is familiar, the suspect is locked in a small room and repeatedly asked the same series of questions until he slightly changes the wording. Then the police pounce. Ordinary people are not trained to resist such an attack—and it must be significantly worse by 2015 when the police have perfected this form of, of what? It’s trickery, that’s what it is.
The book tries to present the police as all good and the suspect as all bad, a typical presentation that appeals to the masses. But I don’t believe anybody is totally evil, not even Hitler as we are indoctrinated to believe. When the police chief gets divorced, it is part of his struggle and makes him stronger. When the suspect gets divorced, that just proves he’s a quitter. That nonsense portrayal hasn’t changed much since 1950.
The message is clear. Except maybe for simple traffic citations, never talk to the police alone. The sequence when they try to set you up is always the same, so learn to recognize it. A “routine” stop, some innocent talking, a little interview, take your statement, then prosecute to the maximum. And anything you do to try to stop the madness at that point, even walking away, has been made illegal. Remember, there is no law that says you have to give the police a statement. About anything. If they insist, you “lawyer up” instantly.
While I am not against the death penalty per se, particularly for those caught red-handed, I would be against it in cases where the body is not found. From what I can find, nobody has ever been executed on circumstantial evidence, but they have been handed life sentences. Mainly they were convicted by talking to the police, who then coerced them into saying what the police claimed is a confession. The ratio seems to be about 10% evidence and 90% verbals.
Ewing got life, and preferred to stay in prison after being paroled, since he had no food or fortune of his own on the outside. He was later to say he did kill Evelyn and buried the body in the sand near Las Vegas. But at 89 years old, who cared any more?
NIGHT
I ended the auction research for now. I’m satisfied it is not an auction. It turns out if the bank doesn’t get their price from the highest bidder, they don’t have to sell it. They can re-hold the auction, what’s that smell? The only thing stopping them is public opprobrium and because banks are generally no good at any game except banking. But to call what they do an auction is a dismal farce.
The directions and instruction to the venue we have chosen are very murky, very unclear. I have downloaded and minutely examined every document and deed I’ve learned how to find on this property. Some documents I’ve read three and four times. Part of the instructions say cash only, others say 5% down and a day to come up with the balance, others say 10% and a week. When faced with such sloppy work (and there are plenty of examples), I have in each case assumed the worst possible case.
For instance, there are two copies of the deed. One is witnessed, the other notarized. I rejected the latter. Nonetheless, I view this seemingly intentional haphazard “auction” procedure in reality works in my favor by keeping people away. Almost every source I’ve spoken to has the notion that the auctions are crooked and full of danger, even though admittedly most of them have never attended one.
So, hopefully we won't see you at the auction, then?
Last Laugh
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