Proof That the Theory of Evolution Is A Lie

We're not making this up, folks.

Andre Moore, a security guard at a local hospital in the City of Brotherly Love posted a video on YouTube artfully entitled "Dissin' Philly Cops" in which he waved around a large caliber pistol, showed how to operate it, and then counseled the nitwits who watch this stuff how easy it was to kill a cop.

The police were not amused, Andre was identified, and he's now got felony charges of making terroristic threats among other things.

Seriously. What gives here?

The First Thing We Do, We Kill All The Witnesses, Part Deux

We're reliably informed that the Supremos in Washington handed down the decision in Giles v. California that extends and strengthens Scalia's toxic infatuation with the Confrontation Clause.

Giles shot his estranged girlfriend Brenda Avie six times and claimed he was defending himself against the unarmed woman. Some weeks beforehand, police were summoned to a domestic disturbance at the Giles residence and Brenda Avie spoke to an officer and said Giles had threatened her with a knife and assaulted her.

The People introduced the statements into evidence at trial over Giles' objections under Cal. Evid. Code section 1370 and Giles was convicted of murder and sentenced to prison.

On appeal, the California Court of Appeals affirmed, finding that Crawford v. Washington recognized the doctrine of forfeiture by wrongoing, which embodies the commonsense notion that a criminal defendant should not profit by his own wrongdoing, as Giles had.

The Supremes differed, finding that even when a defendant manages to make a witness disappear, the witness' statements cannot be used at trial because the poor dear did not have an opportunity to confront the witness.

Unless he intended to procure the witness' unavailability, then, it seems that in Scalia's view, a defendant owns an absolute right to eliminate witnesses against him, just as long as he doesn't do anything so overt as to offer a bribe.

In his dissent, Breyer implies that the result is incongruous, because it exchanges the presumption that a person knows the consequences of his criminal acts, with one of a subjective determination of intent and a purpose to procure the nonappearance of a witness.

But dissenters rarely are remembered.

However, there is hope. In Thomas' concurrence he notes that there was no contention that the statement Avie made to police was nontestimonial. Alito makes the same observation, saying it was not at all clear whether the statement made by Avie was testimonial or not, but that the issue was not before the Court.

What's clear about that subject is what I call the Jeff Dawson Open Mike Policy. When Jeff was with the Winterset PD and he was headed out to a domestic, he'd take the car with the video equipment, park it and leave the video equipment running. He thus had a live mike recording the entire transaction, unsolicited statements, excited utterances and all.

It's a practice that's worthy of further study, if the objective of the justice system is to offer protection to victims and punishment to wrongdoers. On the other hand if Scalia figures that the best and highest purpose of the system is to further a toxic infatuation with confrontation above all else, then he's scored a victory of sorts.

It's quite evident he never was a prosecutor.

What The Well Dressed Combat Medic Is Wearing

Here's a picture of what the well dressed tourist enjoying an all expenses paid vacation in and around FOB Gardez/Zormat is wearing these days. The hogleg pistol from the fine folks at Beretta is an optional but highly recommended fashion accessory.

He's had his first experience patching up fellows who were blown up in a truck, and it seems to be sitting well with him. They're beat up but OK, by the way.

We had a conversation a year ago when he was getting used to wearing Uncle's attire again, and I speculated that there was an entire universe of people who he did not know, and who did not know him, but who were depending on him and betting their lives he was going to do the best damn job he could.

Apparently, that is happening and the karma's good.

Iowa Law Enforcement Reporter Headquarters Moves To High Ground

There.....that got your attention, didn't it?

Well, it has nothing to do with the recent contretemps with the Des Moines, Raccoon, Cedar, and other pesky rivers in the state that are demonstrating once again that the answer to the question "Who's in charge here?" is "Mother Nature, fool."

Myself and the Dragon Lady removed west to the metropolis of Windsor Heights, where if it wasn't for shoplifters and Walmart the cops would be out of a job.

We saw an opportunity-no, opportunity took us by the scruff of the neck and said "Listen fool-I'm not here forever. So get it together!"

As it happened, we'd been saving for a new car and one day, idly surfing channels we came across a program called "My First Home". After the third episode She looks at me and says "These people are dumber than a box of dirt. If they can do it so can we." It turns out we were in better shape creditwise than we ever believed, and as of April 28 it was ours. As I wandered through the place watching the inspector do his work, it occurred to me that I'd never lived in a place this nice. That was something of a revelation in and of itself.

It's changed me into a guy who looks for excuses to drag Home Despot, and the Sunday handout from Menard's has become required reading. I'm discovering the joys of an epoxy coated garage floor, weed killer, and the ten packs of electrical outlets at Lowe's.

Even though I managed to break my wrist moving furniture the result is beyond my wildest expectations. I would venture that only people who grew up and have lived most of their lives in crappy rentals like me and the Dragon Lady really feel all this on a visceral level.

It also explains why I've been away from my desk here but those matters are being put right.

So long landlord.

Feets Don't Fail Me Now-News From Canada

The folks in law enforcement inbeautiful downtown metropolitan Delta, B.C. have a mystery on their hands in the form of feet, encased in sneakers that float ashore every so often. The latest wandering appendage was found on a beach on Westham Island by a couple of people out for a stroll.

Four other feet have washed ashore, and nobody seems to have any idea where they're coming from or who they belong to, but I have an idea.

It should be a simple matter to isolate any shoe store ordering an odd number of brogans, flipflops or tennies.