From the Dec. 28, 2005, editions of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel (and worst of all, it is true):
Attackers sought in driver's beating
'They were having fun,' shocked witness says
By JOHN DIEDRICH and RAQUEL RUTLEDGE
Posted: Dec. 27, 2005
A 50-year-old Milwaukee man was dragged from a car he was driving and severely beaten Monday night by a group of at least 15 teens and young men after he honked at them to get out of the street they were blocking.
Witnesses said the attackers jumped off cars and did flips onto the man's head, laughed and blasted music as if they were having a "block party."
The victim, identified by family as Samuel McClain, suffered "severe head trauma" and was in critical condition late Tuesday at Froedtert Memorial Lutheran Hospital in Wauwatosa, a hospital spokesman said. His family was gathered at Froedtert, awaiting word on McClain's fate. It was unclear whether he would survive.
"He really took a beating," said Anne E. Schwartz, Police Department spokeswoman.
Late Tuesday, one police source said some arrests had been made in the attack. But an official with the department’s detective bureau, Lt. Jeff Point, would not confirm that, saying only that several people were in police custody for questioning.
McClain's former wife and the mother of four of his children, Tina Bost, said McClain is a "happy-go-lucky man and a real nice person."
"I don't understand how that could happen to him," Bost said. "It's awful the way they did him."
Bost said McClain is remarried and also has children with his current wife.
Police are treating the case as an attempted homicide, Schwartz said. No one has been arrested. Detectives were searching for at least 15 participants, ages 16 to 23. They also were looking for two girls who apparently were stopped and harassed by the same group but made it through uninjured.
"We would love to chat with those girls," Schwartz said.
Police spent Tuesday night sweeping through the neighborhood with beefed up patrols, said Capt. Eric Moore.
"There is a significant saturation patrol in the area, and we're conducting a vigorous investigation," said Moore, adding that those arrested were being questioned in the beating.
McClain left his sister's home about 9 p.m. Monday, said his niece, Jennifer McClain. The family hadn't seen him in a couple of months, but he showed up for Christmas, she said. He has been working for a temporary service, she said, but wasn't sure where.
He said he was going to a friend's house on N. 36th St. and W. Hampton Ave., perhaps to play pool, she said.
As he pulled down 36th St. shortly before 11 p.m., he encountered a large group - as many as 30 people - standing in the street and blocking traffic, police said.
Minutes earlier, witnesses said, two girls encountered the same group, Schwartz said. The girl got out of her car and yelled at the group to let them through, which they did, she said.
When McClain honked, the group descended, dragging him from the car and into the street, police and witnesses say.
Jennifer McClain said her uncle is large, making it difficult to pull him from a car.
A 17-year-old visiting relatives nearby said he called police when he saw the group grab McClain and start beating him. The boy didn't want his name published for fear that the attackers would retaliate. He said he watched the whole beating, peering through the blinds of a bedroom window.
"They just started stomping on him, beating him," he said. "They were having fun, like it was normal, like it was an everyday thing."
They were drinking, laughing and playing music, he said.
"I was in shock," he said.
Britney King and her two sisters said they saw the attackers doing flips and cartwheels off cars onto McClain as he lay in the street.
"It looked like they were having a block party," King said. "They sounded like they were having a good time."
King said she and her sisters did not call police.
"It's just not me to call police," said LaToya King. "It would not cross my mind. In places like this, police don't come fast enough and solve anything. People here don't trust the police."
When police arrived, they found McClain in the street and that the crowd had dispersed, Schwartz said.
Mayor Tom Barrett called on the community to help solve the crime.
"We cannot put a police officer on every corner and midway down the block," Barrett said at a news conference at the scene of the beating.
"We need people to step forward especially in a crime like this. . . . If the community steps forward, we can get the people who perpetrated this crime off the streets," he said.
He encouraged anyone with information to call police at (414) 935-7360 or, to report it anonymously, to call the WeTip hotline at (800) 78-CRIME.
Barrett said police presence in the neighborhood is not the issue.
"It's a societal issue," he said. "We have to create hope (for young people), but at the same time we can't condone the violence."
Some community members backed Barrett's approach and challenged families to get more involved in the lives of their sons and daughters, nieces and nephews, siblings and cousins.
"The police have worked endlessly, day and night, to provide us the safest environment they can at 36th and Hampton," said Keith Bailey, owner of Bailey's Dry Cleaning and Laundry Service, just around the corner from the site of the beating. "The police can only do so much. We have lost accountability of our family members."
Last year, there were four mob-style beatings in four weeks in Milwaukee, leaving one man dead and three other people seriously injured. None of the beatings was related.
David Rutledge, a 54-year-old man with schizophrenia, was robbed and beaten July 4, 2004; he later died. Six teens were charged. One was convicted and one is awaiting trial; charges against the others were dropped.
Four days after the Rutledge beating, a 14-year-old boy was kicked, punched and hit in the head with a piece of lumber after he had exchanged words with a girl on a playground. She summoned older relatives, suspected of beating the boy.
Two weeks later, a Milwaukee man was beaten by a group of men after a girl in the neighborhood falsely accused him of indecently touching her.
And on July 29, 2004, a 16-year-old boy and his brothers were beaten by a group armed with bats, bottles, sticks and socks stuffed with canned food.
In 2002, Milwaukee drew national attention after the fatal beating of 36-year-old Charlie Young Jr. Young was pummeled by at least a dozen people, including children as young as 10, who used shovels, tree limbs and other weapons.
Police are looking for two suspect cars in the McClain beating: a black, late- model four-door Mercedes with a broken-out back window covered with plastic and a 1980s Mercury station wagon with imitation wood side paneling and a license that includes either "617 or 627," Schwartz said.
jdiedrich@journalsentinel.com
Weasel's thoughts: If you ever come across a group of teens standing in the middle of a Milwaukee city street, fuck 'em. Rev your engine and run the little bastards over. If you try and warn them, they'll simply use you as a human punching bag.
And people wonder why I have no faith in humanity.
--Weasel, "Two words. Speed. Bumps. End of problem."
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Friday, December 23, 2005
Boned for the Holidays
I am so fucking pissed off right now.
Seriously. Pissed. OFF.....!
The entire week has more or less sucked ass, but today was the coup de grace, so to speak. Here goes:
We were busy today. Insanely busy.
It was as if every resident in Northeastern Wisconsin woke up this morning, farted, then sat up screaming, "Holy fuck! Chri$tma$ comes in two days! I haven't gotten any gifts for Uncle Nancy and Aunt Bob!" So every resident in Northeastern Wisconsin jumped into their cars and went shopping. And every resident in Northeastern Wisconsin came to my fucking store.
What made things worse? I walked into the building early. I will never make that mistake again.
I clocked in 45 minutes early. One of the head cashiers told me that if I came in early, I would be able to leave early.
That wasn't the case. I left at 8:30, which was my scheduled time. (And there is a hilarious story involving that....!)
My register had a line of customers that was at least seven people long; it didn't thin out until 6:30. Because of that (and the idiot head cashier who never changed my schedule on the chart), I got every one of my breaks late. By at least thirty minutes. To top it all off, the Sow was being her normal overbearing self, so I had to fight the urge to strangle someone. Man, was I ever happier than hell when 8:30 rolled around. I shut down my lane, put my drawer together, dropped it and left.
Not five minutes after I clock out, one of the heads was calling me back to the podium. It appears whoever wrote my schedule down royally screwed up: they had written me down for 11:30 to 9:30. A ten hour day. The longest we are supposed to work is nine hours.
They wanted me back on my register. I had to tell them that A) I had checked my schedule yesterday and it had said I would leave at 8:30 and B) 11:30 to 9:30 would be a TEN HOUR DAY. I even counted it out to illustrate my point. Rather than admitting she was wrong, head cashier KS (the same dumb bitch that bawled me out for "being late" on my breaks) said, "Well, you dropped your drawer anyway. Just go."
Wow, how big of you. Can't even admit that you're wrong. Either that, or you're too goddamned retarded to know that you're wrong.
I sometimes think I'm the only person in that building that has a functioning brain.
--Weasel, not looking forward to tomorrow at all.
Seriously. Pissed. OFF.....!
The entire week has more or less sucked ass, but today was the coup de grace, so to speak. Here goes:
We were busy today. Insanely busy.
It was as if every resident in Northeastern Wisconsin woke up this morning, farted, then sat up screaming, "Holy fuck! Chri$tma$ comes in two days! I haven't gotten any gifts for Uncle Nancy and Aunt Bob!" So every resident in Northeastern Wisconsin jumped into their cars and went shopping. And every resident in Northeastern Wisconsin came to my fucking store.
What made things worse? I walked into the building early. I will never make that mistake again.
I clocked in 45 minutes early. One of the head cashiers told me that if I came in early, I would be able to leave early.
That wasn't the case. I left at 8:30, which was my scheduled time. (And there is a hilarious story involving that....!)
My register had a line of customers that was at least seven people long; it didn't thin out until 6:30. Because of that (and the idiot head cashier who never changed my schedule on the chart), I got every one of my breaks late. By at least thirty minutes. To top it all off, the Sow was being her normal overbearing self, so I had to fight the urge to strangle someone. Man, was I ever happier than hell when 8:30 rolled around. I shut down my lane, put my drawer together, dropped it and left.
Not five minutes after I clock out, one of the heads was calling me back to the podium. It appears whoever wrote my schedule down royally screwed up: they had written me down for 11:30 to 9:30. A ten hour day. The longest we are supposed to work is nine hours.
They wanted me back on my register. I had to tell them that A) I had checked my schedule yesterday and it had said I would leave at 8:30 and B) 11:30 to 9:30 would be a TEN HOUR DAY. I even counted it out to illustrate my point. Rather than admitting she was wrong, head cashier KS (the same dumb bitch that bawled me out for "being late" on my breaks) said, "Well, you dropped your drawer anyway. Just go."
Wow, how big of you. Can't even admit that you're wrong. Either that, or you're too goddamned retarded to know that you're wrong.
I sometimes think I'm the only person in that building that has a functioning brain.
--Weasel, not looking forward to tomorrow at all.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
So Close... So Very Close...
I was playing Pokemon XD yesterday and made some major progress; I've hit Citadark Isle.
I'm so close I can practically taste it.
Not long now and Shadow Lugia will be mine... and I will make him whole again.
.....
.....
IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY!
I know good and damn well that I'm not nearly strong enough to go up against Greevil; I want to be at level 57 at least. I'll have to leave the island to go to the Colosseums and level up as much as possible. I know I have to do it, but it feels like an unnecessary delay to me. I really, really really want to Snag that Lugia. And I want to do it now. Leveling up just feels like a waste of time.
..........
Okay, that's it. I'm hitting the 'Cube. Now.
--Weasel, hoping she doesn't get Nintendinitis.
I'm so close I can practically taste it.
Not long now and Shadow Lugia will be mine... and I will make him whole again.
.....
.....
IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY!
I know good and damn well that I'm not nearly strong enough to go up against Greevil; I want to be at level 57 at least. I'll have to leave the island to go to the Colosseums and level up as much as possible. I know I have to do it, but it feels like an unnecessary delay to me. I really, really really want to Snag that Lugia. And I want to do it now. Leveling up just feels like a waste of time.
..........
Okay, that's it. I'm hitting the 'Cube. Now.
--Weasel, hoping she doesn't get Nintendinitis.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Loss
Just walked back from the post office. Doesn't sound so bad, but the temperature is -4 out there. To put it mildly, it's damn cold.
Couldn't sleep last night, even though I went to bed about an hour later than Prime. It was nearly 2am when I slipped beneath the blankets. I was exhausted as hell. Even then I didn't go to sleep; I merely sat up in bed and stared out the window, looking at the moon and the stars and the snow-covered rooftops and the denuded trees and the ever present steam from the paper plant by the river. I sat there for Primus knows how long. Fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes maybe? I don't know; I didn't even bother looking at the clock. When I finally laid down I couldn't sleep then, either. I didn't want to sleep. At least twice I yanked myself out of dozing off (at one point I had begun to snore lightly), just to stare out the window and sigh.
How do you measure a life?
Is it measured in the number of breaths you take, or the number of times your heart beats? Is it measured by how many people love you? How well you love your job? How much wealth you've amassed? In the end, does it even matter?
No one is supposed to die at age twenty five.
At twenty five, you're supposed to get married, find a house, have a few kids, enjoy the better part of your career, hang with your friends, and plan for your future. Cancer isn't supposed to enter the equation and if it does, you're supposed to make a full recovery. You're not supposed to die.
But whoever said the Fates played by anyone's rules, except their own? Even the Gods could not oppose their will.
Prime's back at work today. I'm glad he is, but then again, I'd rather have him here with me. I don't like being alone.
I'm still pissed off at work; we've had other employees who have had minor tragedies (compared to this) befall them and management holds pot-lucks to raise money for them. There's a death in my family and I get squat. No wait, that's not fair; I did get something. I got yelled at by the head cashiers and I got my breaks cut short. Management wonders why our morale is so low.
Prime wants me to call a few Wal-Marts and look for some new Transformers. I'll do it later today. I'm thinking that this will be pointless as hell; Wisconsin is the ass end of nowhere and we rarely get new toys in our area. But I'll do it to make him happy.
All I want to do is crawl back into bed, stare out the window, and sigh.
--Weasel, trying to make sense of it all.
Couldn't sleep last night, even though I went to bed about an hour later than Prime. It was nearly 2am when I slipped beneath the blankets. I was exhausted as hell. Even then I didn't go to sleep; I merely sat up in bed and stared out the window, looking at the moon and the stars and the snow-covered rooftops and the denuded trees and the ever present steam from the paper plant by the river. I sat there for Primus knows how long. Fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes maybe? I don't know; I didn't even bother looking at the clock. When I finally laid down I couldn't sleep then, either. I didn't want to sleep. At least twice I yanked myself out of dozing off (at one point I had begun to snore lightly), just to stare out the window and sigh.
How do you measure a life?
Is it measured in the number of breaths you take, or the number of times your heart beats? Is it measured by how many people love you? How well you love your job? How much wealth you've amassed? In the end, does it even matter?
No one is supposed to die at age twenty five.
At twenty five, you're supposed to get married, find a house, have a few kids, enjoy the better part of your career, hang with your friends, and plan for your future. Cancer isn't supposed to enter the equation and if it does, you're supposed to make a full recovery. You're not supposed to die.
But whoever said the Fates played by anyone's rules, except their own? Even the Gods could not oppose their will.
Prime's back at work today. I'm glad he is, but then again, I'd rather have him here with me. I don't like being alone.
I'm still pissed off at work; we've had other employees who have had minor tragedies (compared to this) befall them and management holds pot-lucks to raise money for them. There's a death in my family and I get squat. No wait, that's not fair; I did get something. I got yelled at by the head cashiers and I got my breaks cut short. Management wonders why our morale is so low.
Prime wants me to call a few Wal-Marts and look for some new Transformers. I'll do it later today. I'm thinking that this will be pointless as hell; Wisconsin is the ass end of nowhere and we rarely get new toys in our area. But I'll do it to make him happy.
All I want to do is crawl back into bed, stare out the window, and sigh.
--Weasel, trying to make sense of it all.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Life's a Bitch
Gods, I fucking hate my job.
As you all know, the glorious fuckers at my place of work (aka the 69th Layer of Hell) decided that attending Prime's brother's funeral was an unexcused absence. Before anyone asks, yes, I went in on time. It was a "good" thing I did. The moronic head cashier who had taken my call earlier that morning had not marked me as being potentially late. In other words, had I skipped out on the first few hours of work, the idiots in charge of that hellhole would have tried calling my apartment, wondering where in the hell I was. And when I would have arrived there, I would have ended up in the Ad Office getting my ass chewed out for being late. Worse still, since I called in Monday, I probably would have been written up or fired for missing time on Friday. And these idiots bitch and whine that the media is after them, trying to make them look bad.
But it gets "better". Just yesterday, one of the busiest shopping days of the season, I'm stuck on an express lane, getting yelled at by the heads to go faster because we have lines. Uh, no shit, asshole! Of fucking course we have lines! And me ratcheting up my speed didn't help the situation much. For every one customer I got out of the store, three more got in my lane!
But nothing tops what the assholes have been doing lately. On Tuesday and Wednesday, they've been calling me back early from my breaks. Not because we're busy, just because they think I've been gone too long. I swear to Primus, I damn near walked out Wednesday, when head (case) cashier KS tried to bawl me out in front of customers.
Man, I can't wait for tomorrow. I'll be checking for any local job openings. If I score a new place of employment, my current hellhole won't know about it.
--Weasel, "Fuck the two week notice shit. They don't deserve it."
As you all know, the glorious fuckers at my place of work (aka the 69th Layer of Hell) decided that attending Prime's brother's funeral was an unexcused absence. Before anyone asks, yes, I went in on time. It was a "good" thing I did. The moronic head cashier who had taken my call earlier that morning had not marked me as being potentially late. In other words, had I skipped out on the first few hours of work, the idiots in charge of that hellhole would have tried calling my apartment, wondering where in the hell I was. And when I would have arrived there, I would have ended up in the Ad Office getting my ass chewed out for being late. Worse still, since I called in Monday, I probably would have been written up or fired for missing time on Friday. And these idiots bitch and whine that the media is after them, trying to make them look bad.
But it gets "better". Just yesterday, one of the busiest shopping days of the season, I'm stuck on an express lane, getting yelled at by the heads to go faster because we have lines. Uh, no shit, asshole! Of fucking course we have lines! And me ratcheting up my speed didn't help the situation much. For every one customer I got out of the store, three more got in my lane!
But nothing tops what the assholes have been doing lately. On Tuesday and Wednesday, they've been calling me back early from my breaks. Not because we're busy, just because they think I've been gone too long. I swear to Primus, I damn near walked out Wednesday, when head (case) cashier KS tried to bawl me out in front of customers.
Man, I can't wait for tomorrow. I'll be checking for any local job openings. If I score a new place of employment, my current hellhole won't know about it.
--Weasel, "Fuck the two week notice shit. They don't deserve it."
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Breaking Point
They've finally done it.
The job has pushed me to the edge.
If they fire me, they'd be doing me a favor.
We lost Wavebreaker Monday. He slipped away peacefully. The funeral is today.
Just called the fuckers at my workplace, asking if there was any way I could go and pay my respects. If I were to come in late because of the funeral, it would be unexcused.
An unexcused absence. For a goddamned funeral.
These are the same assholes who bitch and whine that the media just wants to tarnish their image. The media's not tarnishing it, you dumb fucks: you are. Get a goddamned clue.
--Weasel, wondering if she should go in to work today and start telling her customers just how "wonderful" it is to work for her company.
The job has pushed me to the edge.
If they fire me, they'd be doing me a favor.
We lost Wavebreaker Monday. He slipped away peacefully. The funeral is today.
Just called the fuckers at my workplace, asking if there was any way I could go and pay my respects. If I were to come in late because of the funeral, it would be unexcused.
An unexcused absence. For a goddamned funeral.
These are the same assholes who bitch and whine that the media just wants to tarnish their image. The media's not tarnishing it, you dumb fucks: you are. Get a goddamned clue.
--Weasel, wondering if she should go in to work today and start telling her customers just how "wonderful" it is to work for her company.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
The Mommy Militia Strikes!
Okay, this is just classic:
the Mommy Militia is boycotting a Chicago bakery that has posted a sign asking for children to behave and use their "indoor voices".
(I'd love to know how they'd react to the sign at the pet supply place my mother frequented. It read: "All unattended children will be sold into slavery.")
Yes, you are reading that correctly: these dipshits are pissed off because this poor guy is asking parents to (GASP!!) make sure their children behave! Oh, the horror, the horror! What next? Will parents be forced to actually discipline their children, rather than let them run wild in public places? Oh, the humanity!
I've got some advice for the Mommy Militia: quit your bitching and get the fuck over it.
Remember, I work as a cashier. I have seen more misbehaving children than I care to go into. And I have seen more "parents" just stand the hell by and let their "pwecious widdle peanut" get away with whatever they want.
Newsflash, idiots: people are fucking tired of your bratty children. We are sick and damned tired of your "perfect widdle pwincess" screaming "I WANT CANDY/TOYS/WHATEVER NOW!" or your "sweet widdle pumpkin" racing around the supermarket, running into people and displays as if he's in a playground and not a place of business. And we are royally sick and damned tired of all you "parents" doing absolutely nothing to stop your children's bad behavior. Really now, were you allowed to act like that in public? I seriously doubt it.
I come from a time when "Children should be seen and not heard" was the general rule. My parents would not allow misbehavior in public. If I screwed up, there were consequences. Severe consequences. And I knew ahead of time that there would be severe consequences if I did not behave. If I was extremely lucky, I'd get dragged out to the car by my mother who would then tell me that we were going home NOW. If I really screwed up, I'd get walloped on the ass, dragged out to the car, then grounded for at least a month the very nanosecond I arrived at home. Was it harsh? Yes. Did it keep me in line? You bet your sweet ass it did. I'm not saying I was perfect (and no, I wasn't), but I did try to behave decently in public whenever I could.
Now, why can't other parents do that? Is it because they lack testicular (or ovarian) fortitude? Do they just not want to be the "bad cop"? Or do they just not want to make "the same mistakes" that their parents "made"? What gives?
It doesn't really matter, though. I can't wait until the Mommy Militia starts dealing with their spoiled, bratty teenagers. By then, they may understand why Mr. McCauley posted that sign.
--Weasel, who supports the public tasering of naughty children
the Mommy Militia is boycotting a Chicago bakery that has posted a sign asking for children to behave and use their "indoor voices".
(I'd love to know how they'd react to the sign at the pet supply place my mother frequented. It read: "All unattended children will be sold into slavery.")
Yes, you are reading that correctly: these dipshits are pissed off because this poor guy is asking parents to (GASP!!) make sure their children behave! Oh, the horror, the horror! What next? Will parents be forced to actually discipline their children, rather than let them run wild in public places? Oh, the humanity!
I've got some advice for the Mommy Militia: quit your bitching and get the fuck over it.
Remember, I work as a cashier. I have seen more misbehaving children than I care to go into. And I have seen more "parents" just stand the hell by and let their "pwecious widdle peanut" get away with whatever they want.
Newsflash, idiots: people are fucking tired of your bratty children. We are sick and damned tired of your "perfect widdle pwincess" screaming "I WANT CANDY/TOYS/WHATEVER NOW!" or your "sweet widdle pumpkin" racing around the supermarket, running into people and displays as if he's in a playground and not a place of business. And we are royally sick and damned tired of all you "parents" doing absolutely nothing to stop your children's bad behavior. Really now, were you allowed to act like that in public? I seriously doubt it.
I come from a time when "Children should be seen and not heard" was the general rule. My parents would not allow misbehavior in public. If I screwed up, there were consequences. Severe consequences. And I knew ahead of time that there would be severe consequences if I did not behave. If I was extremely lucky, I'd get dragged out to the car by my mother who would then tell me that we were going home NOW. If I really screwed up, I'd get walloped on the ass, dragged out to the car, then grounded for at least a month the very nanosecond I arrived at home. Was it harsh? Yes. Did it keep me in line? You bet your sweet ass it did. I'm not saying I was perfect (and no, I wasn't), but I did try to behave decently in public whenever I could.
Now, why can't other parents do that? Is it because they lack testicular (or ovarian) fortitude? Do they just not want to be the "bad cop"? Or do they just not want to make "the same mistakes" that their parents "made"? What gives?
It doesn't really matter, though. I can't wait until the Mommy Militia starts dealing with their spoiled, bratty teenagers. By then, they may understand why Mr. McCauley posted that sign.
--Weasel, who supports the public tasering of naughty children
Monday, December 05, 2005
Weasel's News Round-Up
I report the news, so you won't have to jump around the net!
Our first story for today: an eighth grader removed a hidden camera from the boys bathroom, netting himself a five day suspension. Yes, you read that right. He's being suspended and this is going on his permanent record as "stealing" school property. If that doesn't piss you off, then this will:
"That was the interesting part to me that surprised me -- Ms. Massengil, the middle school principal, nor the teachers were aware. No one seemed to be aware besides the principal at the high school," Champion said. "I had told the high school principal, Mr. Fore, that he needed to come up with another solution -- that this wasn't appropriate. His response to me was he was going to continue to film." (All emphasis mine.)
Mr. Pervert High School Principal needs to have his sorry ass fired. Immediately. If not fucking sooner. Can we say "potential molester/pervert"? Sure we can! Gods, what an assbrain!
In other news: Newsmax proves it's only good for lining the bottom of birdcages. I just love their "logic" or lack thereof. "Hey, if torture broke John McCain, then we should use it!"
"That McCain broke under torture doesn't make him any less of an American hero. But it does prove he's wrong to claim that harsh interrogation techniques simply don't work."
Um, yeah. You dipsticks realize he signed a paper confessing his crimes that was not in his native language?! Hello, McFly! How fucking "useful" is that?! But, it doesn't matter much anyway. Love some of the "techniques" being used:
"Long Time Standing: This technique is described as among the most effective. Prisoners are forced to stand, handcuffed and with their feet shackled to an eye bolt in the floor for more than 40 hours. Exhaustion and sleep deprivation are effective in yielding confessions.
The Cold Cell: The prisoner is left to stand naked in a cell kept near 50 degrees. Throughout the time in the cell the prisoner is doused with cold water."
This one makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it:
"Water Boarding: The prisoner is bound to an inclined board, feet raised and head slightly below the feet. Cellophane is wrapped over the prisoner's face and water is poured over him. Unavoidably, the gag reflex kicks in and a terrifying fear of drowning leads to almost instant pleas to bring the treatment to a halt."
Yeah, I'm sure shit like this will bring about "confessions", all right. By the time these dipshits are done with this poor son of a bitch, he'll claim he shoved a bomb in his scrotum and the sky is purple with hot pink spots! As it's stated in the article, this is ..."bad interrogation. I mean you can get anyone to confess to anything if the torture's bad enough," said former CIA officer Bob Baer.
And in our last story for today, a "doctor" proves that he's a total moron by denying an 18 year old Wiccan girl birth control pills. Gotta love it: "I found out later he did diagnose me with depression because I cried."
Uh-huh. A diagnosis of depression because she cried. I diagnose him with "cranial-rectal impact" or "head up ass" syndrome. There's no real cure for it Doc, short of a common sense transplant. But in your case, it won't fucking help. You're a clear example of a waste of a college education. Dumbass.
That's all for today. This has been your anchor-ferret,
--Weasel, signing off.
Our first story for today: an eighth grader removed a hidden camera from the boys bathroom, netting himself a five day suspension. Yes, you read that right. He's being suspended and this is going on his permanent record as "stealing" school property. If that doesn't piss you off, then this will:
"That was the interesting part to me that surprised me -- Ms. Massengil, the middle school principal, nor the teachers were aware. No one seemed to be aware besides the principal at the high school," Champion said. "I had told the high school principal, Mr. Fore, that he needed to come up with another solution -- that this wasn't appropriate. His response to me was he was going to continue to film." (All emphasis mine.)
Mr. Pervert High School Principal needs to have his sorry ass fired. Immediately. If not fucking sooner. Can we say "potential molester/pervert"? Sure we can! Gods, what an assbrain!
In other news: Newsmax proves it's only good for lining the bottom of birdcages. I just love their "logic" or lack thereof. "Hey, if torture broke John McCain, then we should use it!"
"That McCain broke under torture doesn't make him any less of an American hero. But it does prove he's wrong to claim that harsh interrogation techniques simply don't work."
Um, yeah. You dipsticks realize he signed a paper confessing his crimes that was not in his native language?! Hello, McFly! How fucking "useful" is that?! But, it doesn't matter much anyway. Love some of the "techniques" being used:
"Long Time Standing: This technique is described as among the most effective. Prisoners are forced to stand, handcuffed and with their feet shackled to an eye bolt in the floor for more than 40 hours. Exhaustion and sleep deprivation are effective in yielding confessions.
The Cold Cell: The prisoner is left to stand naked in a cell kept near 50 degrees. Throughout the time in the cell the prisoner is doused with cold water."
This one makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it:
"Water Boarding: The prisoner is bound to an inclined board, feet raised and head slightly below the feet. Cellophane is wrapped over the prisoner's face and water is poured over him. Unavoidably, the gag reflex kicks in and a terrifying fear of drowning leads to almost instant pleas to bring the treatment to a halt."
Yeah, I'm sure shit like this will bring about "confessions", all right. By the time these dipshits are done with this poor son of a bitch, he'll claim he shoved a bomb in his scrotum and the sky is purple with hot pink spots! As it's stated in the article, this is ..."bad interrogation. I mean you can get anyone to confess to anything if the torture's bad enough," said former CIA officer Bob Baer.
And in our last story for today, a "doctor" proves that he's a total moron by denying an 18 year old Wiccan girl birth control pills. Gotta love it: "I found out later he did diagnose me with depression because I cried."
Uh-huh. A diagnosis of depression because she cried. I diagnose him with "cranial-rectal impact" or "head up ass" syndrome. There's no real cure for it Doc, short of a common sense transplant. But in your case, it won't fucking help. You're a clear example of a waste of a college education. Dumbass.
That's all for today. This has been your anchor-ferret,
--Weasel, signing off.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Wake Me Up When December Ends
(My apologies to Green Day for "borrowing" one of their song titles.)
You know, with the way things are now, I say we skip straight to January 1. No one bitches and whines about a faux "war" over New Year's Day.
Apparently, Jerry Falwell and his ilk won't stfu over this supposed "war" on Chri$tma$. (If the site wants you to login, just hit up bugmenot.com to by-pass it.) But this little comment from said article really cracked me up:
"The renaming of Christmas trees to holiday trees is symbolic of what's happening with Christmas," Staver said. "When people seek to rename what otherwise is a secular symbol simply because of the name 'Christmas,' that shows the depths of political correctness run amok."
Excuse me, I'm sorry but... BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (gasp...)HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA!!!
Guys, seriously, you need to read this.
You're reading that right. The "Christmas" tree has PAGAN origins! Ooopsie!! Many of the trappings of the holiday are Pagan, which is why there are certain Christians sects who refuse to celebrate the holiday. But leave it to the hypo-christians to conveniently forget about that. Or not bitch about the fact that their "holy day" has been whored out by all the major merchants, who use the "holiday" to fatten their pocketbooks.
Well, at least I'm not the only one who's sick of this crap. Nearly laughed my ass off when I read:
"Our nation's slogan should become: "In God We Trust and Shove Down Your Throats!" That'll show the Godless mud people who aren't like you and me that if you dare sneak into our country, we fully intend to shove a plastic Nativity Jesus down your various dirt-worshipping heathen throats."
Yeah! You tell 'em, Bob! If they don't conform, we'll force 'em!! YEAH! (snicker)
As far as the work front, it was a normal day. I'm doing my damnedest to stay the hell out of the Sow's way; it's working. Now, if only I can make it through another holiday season...
--Weasel, sick of it all
You know, with the way things are now, I say we skip straight to January 1. No one bitches and whines about a faux "war" over New Year's Day.
Apparently, Jerry Falwell and his ilk won't stfu over this supposed "war" on Chri$tma$. (If the site wants you to login, just hit up bugmenot.com to by-pass it.) But this little comment from said article really cracked me up:
"The renaming of Christmas trees to holiday trees is symbolic of what's happening with Christmas," Staver said. "When people seek to rename what otherwise is a secular symbol simply because of the name 'Christmas,' that shows the depths of political correctness run amok."
Excuse me, I'm sorry but... BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (gasp...)HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA!!!
Guys, seriously, you need to read this.
You're reading that right. The "Christmas" tree has PAGAN origins! Ooopsie!! Many of the trappings of the holiday are Pagan, which is why there are certain Christians sects who refuse to celebrate the holiday. But leave it to the hypo-christians to conveniently forget about that. Or not bitch about the fact that their "holy day" has been whored out by all the major merchants, who use the "holiday" to fatten their pocketbooks.
Well, at least I'm not the only one who's sick of this crap. Nearly laughed my ass off when I read:
"Our nation's slogan should become: "In God We Trust and Shove Down Your Throats!" That'll show the Godless mud people who aren't like you and me that if you dare sneak into our country, we fully intend to shove a plastic Nativity Jesus down your various dirt-worshipping heathen throats."
Yeah! You tell 'em, Bob! If they don't conform, we'll force 'em!! YEAH! (snicker)
As far as the work front, it was a normal day. I'm doing my damnedest to stay the hell out of the Sow's way; it's working. Now, if only I can make it through another holiday season...
--Weasel, sick of it all
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