Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
To all of you who are driving and using your hand(s) to talk on your cell phone:
STOP IT AND PULL OVER!
It is common sense to know these are dangerous activities. If you do not cease these activities, I will be forced to run you off the road. After I leisurely take my time, walking down the embankment toward you and your totaled vehicle, I will cheerfully pull your crumpled body out, withdraw my dingus out of my trousers and urinate in your mouth as you attempt to suck in your last dying breath.
Thank You and Have A Nice Day
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
His racket came to an end in 1865 and by the fall of that year, Probst found himself penniless in Philadelphia. Living on the streets, he found out that a man named Christopher Dearing was looking for a handyman to work on his farm. Probst applied at the small homestead on Jones' Lane and was soon hired. The Dearing farm was only a few acres in size with a small house, a barn where a horse and one pig were kept and some grazing space for cattle. Dearing, his wife, Julia, and their five children supported themselves by raising and selling cattle. They were not wealthy by any means, but they were a happy family who managed to get along on the little they earned.
Probst soon revealed his true personality but only to Julia Dearing. She noticed how he did little work and would lounge in the barn when he was supposed to be tending the cattle. After he made several lewd comments to her, she urged her husband to fire the strange young man after just three weeks. Dearing agreed and Probst, claiming to be in poor health, was taken in by a Philadelphia charity hospital. He lingered here from December 1865 to the following February. While lying on his cot in the poor house, Probst schemed to rob the Dearing's and to get even with them. He returned to the farm on March 2, 1866 and begged Christopher Dearing to hire him back. Dearing, who felt sorry for the man, agreed.
Over the course of the next month, Dearing worked harder than he ever had in his life. He pretended to be quite friendly with the family and even Julia began to feel kindly towards the young man. All the while, Probst continued to scheme and on April 7, decided to put his plan into action. That morning, Christopher Dearing traveled by buggy to the Philadelphia docks to meet a visiting family friend, Miss Elizabeth Dolan from Burlington, New Jersey. Meanwhile, Probst and Cornelius Carey, a boy employed to help on the farm, worked in a field. Events began just as started to rain at about nine that morning.
As the rain began to fall, Probst and Carey took shelter under a tree. When the boy looked away for a moment, Probst clobbered Carey with the blunt end of an ax and when he fell, stunned, Probst turned the ax over and severed the boy's head with it! He quickly hid the body in a haystack and then, with methodical precision, Probst lured the entire family --- one by one --- into the barn. There, he struck them senseless with a hammer and then chopped them with the ax until Julia and four of her children, including an infant, had been slaughtered. When Mr. Dearing arrived home with Elizabeth Dolan, Probst was waiting for him. He told him that there was a sick animal in the barn and after they went inside, Probst attacked him with the hammer and ax as well. Miss Dolan, who had gone into the house, was also lured into the barn and she was also slain.
When he was finished, Probst neatly lined all of the bodies up inside of the barn and tossed hay over them. He then ransacked the farm house, looking for money. He found $10 in Dearing's wallet, of which $4 was later found to be counterfeit, as well as revolver and a battered old watch. He also managed to find $3 in Miss Dolan's purse but that was all. Probst then used Dearing's razor to shave off his beard and exchanged clean clothes and boots for his own blood-soaked apparel. After that, he ate some bread and butter and then went to his room for a nap. He slept peacefully, unconcerned about the murders, and before leaving the farm, he took the time to feed the dogs and chickens and the put out feed for the horses and the cow in the barn, just steps away from where the bodies of the Dearing family lay stiffening under the hay. Only one of the children survived the massacre. Willie Dearing, the oldest son, had gone to stay with friends a few days before the crime occurred.
After feeding the animals, Probst leisurely strolled away and spent the next few days on the streets. Neighbors came to the farm on the day after the murders and found the bodies of the family in the barn. They notified the police, who had little trouble tracking down Probst. He had sold Dearing's revolver to a bartender and his watch to a jeweler. On April 12, five days after Philadelphia's first mass murder, he was arrested by a single policeman while drinking in a tavern at 23rd and Market Streets. He surrendered without a fight.
At first, the killer protested his innocence but the evidence against him was so strong that at the end of his trial on May 1, the jury took only 20 minutes to find him guilty. He was executed on June 8 but before this occurred, he made a complete confession of his crimes. Strangely, even after death, Anton Probst has remained in Philadelphia. Following his execution, his body was delivered to the medical college, where it was dissected. His mounted skeleton then went on display in the museum of the college, which still operates today. It was a strange and macabre (although perhaps fitting) ending for this vicious killer.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I don't understand why anyone would choose to pick a fight in a public place. I guess I have too much self respect. Now I have done things for a laugh in public, but that's another story for another post.
While checking out the weird news on Yahoo, I came across this story about a couple fighting yesterday in New York. This guy was on the roof of the car his girlfriend was driving. The road they're on is packed with cars, of course. Anyway, while she's banging into cars here and there, her boyfriend is busy punching a hole through the windshield to get at her head. Now.... that's embarrassing. Heh heh. During her game of highway pinball, the girlfriend gets a surprise. The air bag blows up in her face. She finally stops the car. The boyfriend sails off the car top and lands on the highway. She rips the airbag out, gets out of the vehicle and proceeds to hit the boyfriend with the airbag until the cops come to the scene. Lucky them.
Here's another story. This took place in Tennessee. Isn't that the "Show Me" state? Hell, I don't know. But it seems this couple were trying to show something. Maybe their lack of self-respect.... or their asses.
A couple that began squabbling in a motel room Friday morning carried their dispute over to an adjacent Waffle House restaurant in the nude, police said.
The woman, who was not identified, told officers she was staying in a room with Larry Boyd when he took a hit of cocaine, started trashing their room and choked her.
She ran in the buff to the nearby restaurant and locked herself in the bathroom. Boyd, also naked, followed her into the restaurant and then fled in a car.
He was arrested — still naked — after a short chase by police and was charged with driving under the influence and felony evading arrest, among other charges. It was not immediately clear whether he had an attorney.
All around this wacky world, you can hear, read or see cases like these and it makes you wonder why people display this behaviour. For attention?
If you've ever had the accident of seeing the Jerry Springer Show, then you'll see a whole circus of people yelling, finger pointing and pulling hair on national television. Jerry's "freak show" regularly displays people practicing bad behaviour. The type of folks he welcomes on his show seem to enjoy the attention. They must be very insecure, lonely and out of their minds-not to mention ignorant.
If you have any theories about this subject, let me in on them. Frankly, I don't get it.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Instead of singing songs or reciting the favorite color of its 2-year-old owner, James Bowman, the doll started making death threats, the family says.
With a squeeze of its fuzzy belly, the Sesame Street character now says, in a sing-song voice, "Kill James." "It's not something that really you would think would ever come out of a toy," said Melissa Bowman, James' mother. "But once I heard, I was just kind of distraught."
The Elmo Knows Your Name doll, which connects to a computer to learn certain phases and names, recently ran out of battery power, Bowman said.
About an hour after she put new ones in, "I noticed exactly what it was saying," Bowman said. "And my son was repeating exactly what it was saying."
Bowman said Elmo is James' favorite character. James even has Elmo slippers, but the malfunctioning, death-threat-spouting Elmo Knows Your Name doll is now being kept away from her son, Bowman said.
"This is his absolute favorite toy," she said. "So we've been going through a lot of hassle because he's trying to climb up the counter and up the closets to get it."
Fisher-Price, the toy company that manufactures the dolls, said it will issue the Bowmans a voucher for a replacement doll. The company said it will examine James' model for the source of the problem and check whether other Elmos are experiencing the same malfunction.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
IN THIS EDITION OF LESSER KNOWN LOONS, WE TAKE A LOOK AT SOMEONE LIVING AMONGST US NOW. HE CLAIMS TO BE A VAMPIRE, A SATANIST AND, OF COURSE, A WRESTLER. HE HAS RAN FOR PUBLIC OFFICE IN THE PAST AND IS LOOKING TO DO SO AGAIN.
CAN JONATHON "THE IMPALER" SHARKEY COUNT ON YOUR VOTE?
Jonathon "The Impaler" Sharkey (1964 - ) is a self-proclaimed satanist, "sanguinary vampyre", Hecate Witch and professional boxer as well as wrestler (under the name Rocky "Hurricane" Flash) and perennial candidate for public office. He has filed with the Federal Election Commission to run for President of the United States twice as an Independent candidate (in 2004 and in 2008) and for Congress in at least three states -- his home State of New Jersey (1999-2000, Republican), Indiana (Reform Party, 2000) and Florida (2001-02, Republican). In 2006, he ran for governor of Minnesota.
Sharkey lived for a time in Florida under his wrestling name of Rocky Hurricane Flash. While there, he also used the assumed name Kathleen Sharkey and claimed that this Kathleen Sharkey was either his half-sister or his wife. He filed reports with the Federal Election Commission which listed Kathleen Sharkey as a member of his campaign staff. Eventually, a letter was filed with the Federal Election Commission, purportedly by Kathleen Sharkey, which implied that he had died.
Documents from a lawsuit filed in the Indianapolis District Court mention that Sharkey attempted to commit suicide. It has been suggested instead that he attempted to fake his own death. The Vampires, Witches, and Pagans Party was founded by Sharkey in 2005. It is officially recognized by United States Federal Election Committee, although there is little evidence of any membership or activity other than two persons.
The Party advocates protection of the religious beliefs and political advancment of individuals identifying themselves as vampires, witches, pagans, demons, Satanists, Wiccans, and those professing similar lifestyles and religious views. An independently produced documentary about Sharkey, Impaler, debuted in Australia on February 9, 2007. His latest project is online: Jonathon "The Impaler" For President 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
It's been a whole damned week since my last post. I've been a very bad boy and I shall certainly try to do better. With that said, let me share some news that's sure to titillate you, your comrades and the entire hootin', hollerin', square dancin' bunch of freakazoids living underneath your roof. Ready? Here it is: My pussys have made it on tv.
I'm not talking about my harem of female blog groupies. Lord knows I have many. (snicker snicker-hee ho) This is what I did: I sent a picture of my cats, Victor and Mufasa, to Channel 5 Morning News. They have been showing pics of viewer's pets during the weather forecast part of the show. I was sure they wouldn't show mine, but I thought, what the hell. I emailed the picture and Eric Green, the weather dude, showed it to THE PEOPLE, adding where they were from and their names. The anchor woman and guy on the show said they were adorable and oooowed and ahhhhhed. Unfortunately, I was on the crapper at the time but my wife saw it and told me about it. Actually, she was shouting at me to get off the pot while their picture was being shown on tv. I tried, with all the determination of a woman trying to push out a set of triplets, but failed to "cut it short" in time.
The weather guy wrote back, "I love your kitties." I should have replied, "Then send me a forty pound bag of cat chow to feed the little porkers." (See picture of them both in my earlier post to get my meaning)
Anyway, I told the cats they were tv stars now and they just looked at me as if I were a raving loon. Funny- they always give me that look. Ah, well.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Ahhh, my head. So close to exploding yet too far away from detonating to give me any relief. Maybe I need a change of scenery. It's 1:00 in the morning and this monitor is getting very blurry. The floor is kinda shakey, too. Do I attempt to crawl into bed with the wifey for more chainsaw assault? Look, over there, the globe on my desk just rotated by itself!
The buzzing is getting louder. Angry bees. Angry at me. Swirling in and around my noggin.
And now the wife is coming in, telling me to come to bed. God, help me. Someone come to my rescue!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Her name was Belle Gunness. In life, 48 year-old Belle Gunness had stood just under five and a half feet tall but had weighed a massive 280 pounds. Belle had three children, aged one, five and nine. They lived in a small brick farmhouse just outside the quiet town of La Porte, Indiana.
In 1908, the 28th of April, a mysterious fire ravaged the farmhouse. The fire, at first, seemed to be no more than a horrible tragedy that claimed the lives of Belle and her three children. Then questions began to pop up, from further investigation of the brick house ruins and other details.
The body that was found in the remains of Belle Gunnan's home was no more than 150 pounds. Had the blaze somehow burned away most of the flesh from Belle's portly body? No one could really say for sure since the head of the corpse was missing. Maybe a part of the house came down and cut off her noggin. Maybe somebody took her head to use in a truly disgusting game of rugby.
Gunness was no stranger to mystery or to controversy. Several years before, her husband, Peter Gunness, had been killed (according to Belle) when a meat grinder had toppled off the shelf in the kitchen and had struck him in the head. Yeah, that sounds like an accident that happens every day. When a coroner looked at the body, he allegedly muttered "this is a case of murder." To make matter worse, one of Belle's children even told a classmate that her mother had hit him over the head with a cleaver. The authorities investigated but Belle was so convincing, and so formidable, at the inquest that no charges were ever filed. And after her husband's death, Belle was never considered a proper widow. I would have thought she would have been quite a catch.
It was common knowledge in town that she had taken her handyman, Ray Lamphere, to her bed on lonely winter nights. Who was on top? I wonder if Ray, during his "busy" time with Belle, had the good sense to make sure the meat grinder was far away from the bed.
Smutzer sent two of his deputies digging in the debris of the house for Belle's head. When drinking, the slow-witted handyman, Lamphere, often boasted of sleeping with his employer, which came as a surprise to those who only saw Belle as the burly woman who liked to dress in men's overalls and do her own hog butchering. Mmmm. Ya know, I can see where she would attract all kind of guys.
There was another side to the woman though, which Ray Lamphere saw. There were rare occassions in which Belle was seen wearing a corset and fine clothing, with her hair done up like a beauty queen. She was unrecognizable from the ogre-ish farm woman she usually allowed herself to be seen as.
Lamphere also witnessed numerous strangers going for carriage rides with Belle on those occassions. Ray Lamphere had endured these attentive strangers but had never lost him temper over any of them. I'm guessing he had either low self esteem, was a moron or was a player, himself and didn't care. Personally, I lean towards him being a moron.
But the handman's attitude changed when Lamphere was introduced to a new gentleman from South Dakota. His name was Andrew Hegelian, Belle's new husband-to-be. Lamphere became enraged and protested. Belle promptly fired him. Lamphere soon began drinking heavily and began showing up at Belle's house. She had him arrested for trespassing and then mentioned to the sheriff that "I'm afraid that he'll set fire to the place."
This immediately came back to mind for Sheriff Smutzer and he had Lamphere locked up and charged with the murder of Belle and her children. The handyman claimed to be innocent but his cries fell on deaf ears until Asle Hegelian showed up in town from South Dakota, searching for his missing brother, Andrew. He told Sheriff Smutzer that Andrew had answered a matrimonial ad that had been placed by Belle Gunness in a Norwegian language newspaper. In her reply, Belle offered true love and a life of wedded bliss, but also mentioned a quick $1,000 that she needed to pay off a mortgage. She ended her letter with "my heart beats in wild rapture for you --- come prepared to stay forever." And apparently, he did. He withdrew his life savings from the bank and was never heard from again.
By the time that Asle arrived in La Porte, he was sure that his brother had met with foul play. He became even more convinced when he went out to the ruins of Belle's home and watched as the men digging for her head turned up eight men's watches, assorted bones and human teeth instead. He searched through the property on his own and shouted to the men to start digging in the rubbish hole that was located in Belle's hog pen. As they began turning the earth, they found four bodies -- all of them skillfully sliced apart and wrapped in oilcloth. One of the bodies belonged to Andrew Hegelian. Uh oh. Guess he wasn't good enough for the meat grinder.
The town was shocked and more men came out to the farm to join in the search. On the following day, three more bodies were discovered and in all, 14 of Belle's victims were pieced together, with a quantity of teeth, bones and watches left over. The gruesome finds made headlines in newspapers all over the Midwest and relatives began to appear from all over the region to claim bodies. All of them told of lonesome brothers, uncles and cousins answering Belle's matrimonial ads and traveling hopefully to La Porte with their life savings stuffed in their pockets. Sheriff Smutzer estimated that Belle had made about $30,000 from her victims. She had drugged them and then had cut up the bodies as she did her hogs. Pork Chops, anyone?
Even with this mystery cleared up, the unanswered question of the body in the burned house remained. Was it Belle's or had someone else been placed there to die? Belle's head never appeared but the sheriff thought that her teeth might. A neighbor who had once been a prospector offered to sluice the debris for any of Belle's teeth.
The ex-prospector found many additional male teeth in the ruins but only one of which could be linked to Belle. This convinced some of the locals that the 150 pound body had been Belle's but others scoffed, saying that any woman who would leave her children to die in a fire so that she could escape would certainly not balk at knocking out one of her own teeth in the interests of eluding arrest.
The lingering controversy spilled over into the courtroom for despite the grisly discoveries on Belle's property, the sheriff doggedly persisted in bringing Ray Lamphere to trial for her murder. Both sides fought hard and the jury eventually brought in a rather curious verdict. Lamphere was acquitted of the murder but was convicted of setting fire to the house. He received a sentence of 2 to 21 years in the state penitentiary. He eventually died in prison , having contracted tuberculosis in jail while awaiting trial, but he confessed his role in Belle's crimes to his cellmate before he succumbed to the disease. He told him that he was aware of Belle's murderous activities and had even buried bodies for her when she was finished cutting them up. He said that the headless woman that was found in the fire was that a female derelict that Belle had found in Chicago. She had poisoned the woman with strychnine and then had placed her in bed with the children. She had removed one of her own teeth and then had set the house on fire. After that, she had vanished with the money that the men had unwittingly brought to her. Lamphere was supposed to hear from Belle after she got away to safety -- but he never had. Unbelievably, the moronic handyman died in his prison cell, still in love with a human monster.
So what really happened to Belle Gunness? Nobody knows for sure. In April of 1908 she disappeared and was never heard from again. If you have any suggestions or ideas, let me know. What I can't comprehend are all those men being that desperate for love. Also, why is it that they would come to the "Gunness House of Man & Hog Butchering" and were unable to smell something funny in the air? Like dead humans. I guess it's true what some Asian people say about us Caucasians.... we all smell like pork.
And on this charming note, I'd just like to declare to all the man-butcherers, gullible losers and everyone else out there in this wacky world....
Happy Valentine's Day!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
John Mytton was certainly one of the looniest of all British eccentrics throughout history. Born in 1796 and having died in 1834, Mytton was also known during his time as Squire Mytton, or preferably, "Mad Jack" Mytton.
John's father died when he was just two years old, leaving little "Mad Jack" his property at Halston Hall in Shropshire. Plus, he inherited a large extent of land. Some theorize that it was John's lack of parental guidance combined with his inherited wealth that caused John to be kind of nutty through his childhood and later adult years.
Mytton seemed to delight in producing havoc in the schools he was to be educated at. Mytton was expelled after only a year at Westminster School for fighting his teachers. Then, he was sent to Harrow School where he only lasted three days. Forced to be privately educated, John pulled a practical joke on his tutor. He thought it humorous to coax a large horse up the steps to the bedroom that John and the tutor shared. From what I've researched, John forced the tutor to share the bedroom with the horse and himself for quite some time. He later went to Cambridge University, where he arrived with 2,000 bottles of wine. Why? He said it was to help sustain him during his studies. Of course, he later left Cambridge without graduating, finding life there too boring.
Mytton spent some time in the army before coming into his full inheritance at 21, gaining the obligations and duties of country squire. Apparently though, his time spent in the army did not infuse him with much discipline.
John Mytton was remembered for his fondness of hunting and wild carriage rides. "Mad Jack" Mytton would drive his gig, like a speeding torpedo, towards a rabbit hole just to see if his carriage would turn over. In one incident, John once tested to see if his carriage could ramp over a tollgate. I imagine that proved exciting for the toll collector. Most likely, he soiled his pants.
Often, Mad Jack would race around dangerous country roads in a four horse gig, whipping across the crossroads and speeding 'round hairpin corners with great joy and no concern for others or him. Oddly enough, Mytton never received any serious injuries from these escapades. He was quoted as enjoying the accidents he had.
In one anecdote, Mytton was driving his four horse carriage with a new companion, of whom Mad Jack inquired whether he had ever been upset in a gig. "No", the man replied "Thank God, I have never been upset in one". "What!!" cried Mytton, "What a damn slow fellow you must have been all your life!" and promptly drove the gig up a sloping bank at full speed tipping himself and his passenger out.
Once, John Mytton asked the local parson and doctor to his Halston estate. After enjoying dinner and quiet conversation, the parson and doctor both commenced to leave. As his guests left on horseback, Mad Jack quickly donned a highwayman's clothing and mask. He also grabbed a pair of pistols before starting out on a round-a-bout, circuitous route where he abruptly met them at the edge of his estate. There, he fired his pistols over his head and shouted, "Stand and deliver!" Mytton would later relate the story to his peers with much glee, describing the parson and the doctor as "galloping for their lives, with himself, hard at their heels."
Another time, "Mad Jack" came to a dinner party at Halston Hall, riding a bear. He attempted to encourage the bear to go faster by givin' it a little kick with his spur. The bear responded by biting his calf. Charles James Apperley, John Mytton’s biographer, described the episode this way: "He once rode this bear into his drawing-room, in full hunting costume. The bear carried him quietly for a time; but on being pricked by the spur, he bit his rider through the calf of his leg." Even though the bear bit Mytton, Mytton kept the bear as a pet and named it Nell. Later, the bear took some serious bites out of one of his servants and good 'ol "Mad Jack" had it killed. What jolly fun had by all.
Mytton frequently engaged in dog fights, gambling on the games between bulldogs, mastiffs and terriers. He also would enjoy biting fighting dogs with his own teeth. Witnesses said, at times, Mytton would be standing upright, with a mastiff held in his jaws, holding it there, hands free. After erupting into a jealous rage with his wife (strange that anyone would marry him) he is rumored to have tossed his wife's dog into the fire, burning it to death.
Speaking of fire, Mytton was staying in France and was having a hard time with the hiccups. He announced, “Damn this hiccup, but I'll frighten them away." His solution? Why he set his shirt on fire, of course. Lucky for him, his friends and servants were there to put out the flames before he acquired serious burns. After that, he said, "The hiccup is gone, by God!" Naked, he slipped into bed and quoted a quote from the Greek, Sophocles, before falling quietly to sleep.
John Mytton was married in his lifetime.... twice. Hard to believe, given his zest for life. Or apparent zest for suicide attempts. Heh heh. The first wife died just after two years of marriage. The second left him after two years of marriage. What took her so long? Better yet, why did she go ahead with the ceremony in the first place, I wonder. Later, he paid 500 pounds to a very attractive woman so that she would be his companion. They spent 2 happy years together before he returned to England in 1834. He was in bad health, at the time of his return.
In the end, "Mad Jack" Mytton died in King Bench Prison. He had been jailed due to owing so much to his creditors. It is said he died there as a result of alcohol poisoning.
“Mad Jack” Mytton lived life with a fervor rarely seen amongst the majority of us. Raise your glass of the good stuff and offer a festive, wild-eyed toast to the eccentric Squire Mytton and pray you’ll never have to ride in a carriage with anyone like him.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
What is alarming, however, is when three more cop cars pull in, minutes afterward. That's what happened next. I was thinking there had been a murder. Here I was, bored, and finally something exciting like a killing has taken place right where I live.
At least five or six cops hurriedly get out of their cars, looking serious, knocking on the apartmart door below. My heartbeat quickens a bit. Perhaps there's been a throat-slashing or a satanic ritual gone awry. Then someone, not in a policeman's uniform, comes out of a cop car, which looks like a minivan, really, and is toting a big black box on wheels. He takes that inside the apartment below us.
After hearing various doors opening and shutting and the muffled voices of cops and tenants downstairs for awhile, I finally hear the highly anticipated knock on my door.
A smile magically developed upon my face as I floated towards the door, with hope sparkling in my demented heart. I open the door and a cop, also with a smile on his face, though not as broad as mine, says, "Sorry to disturb you."
I reply, with subdued glee, "Oh, that's alright."
The cop asks, "Have you seen anyone unfamiliar coming into the apartment complex today?"
I said, "Uh.... No. Why? Has there been a murder around here? I've never seen so many cop cars here before."
The cop chuckled, momentarily, giving me reason to believe that something really freaky had transpired. Then he answered, "No, no. Your neighbor below just thought maybe someone had come into the apartment that wasn't supposed to." Then he inquired if I had heard anything strange. I repeated my answer, NO, once again.
That was a kind-of-odd answer he had given me, pertaining to the reason they were there. It was also a letdown, too. No bloodletting had occurred. No outrageous domestic argument that spiraled out of control, leaving individuals without teeth or eyes. Just somebody may have, perhaps, broke in a tenant's place below. How boring. But, like my wife said, it may be something to be concerned about. It could be us next. If that's what really happened. The cop was sort of obscure with his answer, as if he wasn't telling me the full story. Maybe he wasn't allowed. I don't know.
If it was just a matter of somebody "maybe" breaking into an apartment, then I think, with all the cops pouring into our lot, it was a case of overkill.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Cats are, in my opinion, more intelligent and sophisticated than dogs. Dogs tend to be really needy for attention and love. Cats don't give a shit. I like that. That kind of personality gels perfectly with mine. Wonder why. Ha and ho. Where a dog will jump up and down and throw his/her dirty paws on your nice, spiffy dress pants and then lick his balls like there's no tomorrow, a cat will stare at you as if you're a complete retard when you beg for it to come over to where you stand.