RANT: Restraining orders don’t

Sunday, August 16, 2009

http://www.app.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090814/NEWS/90814120&s=d&page=2#pluckcomments

Man at center of murder-suicide had years of money problems
By Matthew McGrath • TOMS RIVER BUREAU • August 14, 2009

*** begin quote ***

TOMS RIVER — The muscle-bound man accused of throttling his ex-fiancee before hanging himself Thursday had a several-year history of money problems.

*** end quote ***

http://www.app.com/article/20090814/NEWS/90815005

*** begin quote ***

Her apparent killer, Frank Frisco Jr., 36, was found dead shortly after, hanging in a detached garage of her Lafayette Avenue home that was in foreclosure. She had been staying elsewhere with friends since obtaining a restraining order against Frisco, and was scared to death of him, friends said.

*** and ***

Although someone posted bail for the theft, bad checks and restraining order charges, the court ordered him held on outstanding child support of $25,870.36, officials said. The court then released him Wednesday without the payment. On Wednesday at 5:10 p.m., Zindell learned he was being released, authorities said.

*** end quote ***

# – # – #

I happen to know some one who knows this girl and the guy.

That just makes it more upsetting.

What judge let the fellow out without the 25K?

Restraining orders don’t restrain squat! GIve the girl a gun and warn the guy if he gets shot no charges will be filed.

Argh!

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GUNS: RKBA is not up for debate

Sunday, August 16, 2009

http://www.lewrockwell.com/gaddy/gaddy67.1.html

Many Gun Owners, the State and Media Agree; 2a Is No Longer Relevant
by Michael Gaddy

*** begin quote ***

When I decided to write this article, I did not contact the government, submit to a background check, submit fingerprints, take a government endorsed writing class and pay for permission. What is the difference in the exercise of my inalienable right to free speech and my inalienable right to keep and bear arms? The difference is: the state currently fears my ability to resist tyranny with a firearm more than with words, but as we can see from the reaction of the government and its media lackeys to the spoken objections to the tyranny of socialized medicine, that is about to change.

*** end quote ***

Luckily, rights are not up for “agreement”. They are “inalienable”.

From my cold dead hand!

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GUNS: Suprise, suprise.

Friday, August 7, 2009

GA: Schoolteacher exchanges gunfire with carjackers
Atlanta Journal-Constitution

*** begin quote ***

“A DeKalb County schoolteacher carjacked early Sunday scored a measure of revenge against his attackers — thanks in part to their poor sense of direction. Derek Harper, 47, had just returned to his Lithonia home around 1:15 a.m. when two unidentified gunmen surprised him from behind, forcing the Evansdale Elementary teacher out of his car and onto the ground, demanding money. ‘After they figured out I didn’t have any cash on me they got into my van,’ he said. His narrow garage helped Harper sneak away. ‘One of them was having trouble getting into the passenger’s side, so while he was doing that I took off,’ said Harper, also the assistant track coach at Stephenson High. As he ran the gunmen started firing, striking Harper once in the arm before speeding off in his van, heading directly toward a dead end on Phillips Place. Knowing they’d be forced to turn around, Harper ran inside and grabbed his .380 pistol. ‘I was waiting for them,’ he said. Harper estimates he fired two to three bullets, which might have contributed to the driver crashing the van less than a block away.” (08/03/09)

http://tinyurl.com/kpgwgw

*** end quote ***

380, a girllie gun. A 1911 45 would have been much more effective.

But better than nothing.

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GUNS: The ultimate tool for varmints

Thursday, July 30, 2009

http://www.newsherald.com/news/shoots-76013-bristol-year.html

82-year-old shoots, kills robber; 3 women charged
July 23, 2009 12:01:00 AM
By JON MILTIMORE / News Herald Writer

*** begin quote ***

BRISTOL — Octavious Barnes died Sunday still clutching the $1,100 he took from an 82-year-old bar owner before he was shot.

Now, three Blountstown women accused of helping Barnes, 24, face murder charges in connection to his death.

*** end quote ***

That’s a ZERO recidivism rate!

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WRITING: r ‘n’ r

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

READ AND REACT (An Index Card Novel)

The OODA Loop (for Observe, Orient, Decide and Act) is a concept. A tactical-level example can be found on the basketball court, where a player takes possession of the ball and must get past an opponent who is taller or faster. A straight dribble or pass is unlikely to succeed. Instead the player may engage in a rapid and elaborate series of body movements designed to befuddle the opponent and deny him the ability to take advantage of his superior size or speed.

+++++

It was the first day of the Sixth Grade Girls Basketball “tryouts”. (Tryout was a misnomer because everyone who “tried” would make the team.) She was a tall gawky scared girl. She had her designer jeans. (Her Mom wanted her to catch a man later in life and was raising a lady.) All the girls went to the try out to get out of class. Anything was better than being in prison. An old lady was the coach. Rumor had it that she was a semi-pro before “girls basket ball” hit its prime. She was aided by two old men.

The girl wandered out on the court. It was warm ups. She took a ball and walked to the basket. Wondering what she should do now. Silently, and a little scary, one of the old men was behind her. “You could be a great post player.” Huh? She replied: “I could? I don’t know anything?” The old man smiled: “We can teach you facts, drills, and stuff. But, practice is up to you.” “OK” “Let’s do something simple. Put down the purse. Put one foot on each side of this corner here. It’s called the top of the key. Pivot right and shoot. Next pivot left and shoot. Do each these a thousand times and it becomes yours. In a game, you won’t even think about it. Make half of those shots and you’ll be a great player. Hit them all you’ll be a pro. But remember it’s about having fun. You’ll learn to read and react.” It didn’t sound hard. BUT, (there is always a big butt), she objected: “I don’t have the clothes. And, what will the boys think?” “First, you have to want to do something; then you’ll find a way. Second, who cares what others think; you have to sail your own ship on your own course.”

+++++

“Ladies, today is your first time on the ‘confidence course’. Why do we call it that? Because today you will develop a self-confidence that you will always be able to handle any challenge that life hands you. And, it will challenge you. Run away and you’ll be running away for ever. Go over the top and new horizons will be in front of you.”

She was tired. Bone tired. To complete the exercise, she had to make a shot. Silly as it sounds, there was always a challenge. She reached back into her mental closet, put both feet on the top of the key and sighted. The instructor, a fat old man from a long ago war, said: “Good. Excellent stand. Shooting is like basketball. You have to read and react. Now clear your weapon and move out.”

It was hand to hand fighting in the dessert. Wasn’t supposed to be like that. Women were in the “rear”. But these days, there was no “rear”. And, the enemy must not have got the memo. She was always reading and reacting. Assume nothing. Ever. Assumptions kill. The fellow grabed her like an awkward rapist. She relaxed. He relaxed. Wrong move on his part. She pulled his leg out. They went to the ground. Her on top. She got her elbows out. Just like playing the post. And landed her elbow in his solar plexus. He was not good for much after that. But he only had a minute’s discomfort before she put him out of his misery.

+++++

She was out for the family run. Hubbie up in front. Her two boys trying to catch him. Her two girls trying not to embarass their brothers. Periodically, she run up and tell them to tell their Dad he was slowing down. They easily loped up, told him , and fell back. She was getting older. She could feel her time getting slower. But she was determined to wear out; not rust out. The coast country was beautiful. She thought back to all the men and women who helped her get to this point.

Then it struck. A big cat grabbed her husband’s head. In a flash, he was down. The children were screaming. She was calm. She set her feet at the top of the key and went for the shot. It was technically not a hard shot. Ten or twelve feet. The cat was intent on dragging its prey away; it presented a nice target. Emotionally, it was much harder. It was her husband. She needed him. It was only a 380. A ‘girlie gun’; the dealer called it. “I’m just a weak little girl”, she told him. He saw an Amazon and laughed.

To be sure, she may have been a little excited. She put two three shot groups into the cat. First group was the size of a Number 10 Can. Second was an inch and a half across. Old lessons come back quickly. Her fanny pack coughed up a kit. She was never without what she called her friend Bob. Husband had some bad deep wounds. She gather the children to him and stood guard. While treating him! Torn scalp. The blur of events began to slow down. She was telling the 911 operator on her cell phone the coordinates on her GPS. She reloaded her weapon quickly. What if the cat had a mate?

+++++

The ranger said the cat was a “nuisance”. The cop took her gun for testing. She was cited for an unlicensed firearm, killing an “endangered species”, and “noise pollution”. After they medivaced her husband out. EMTs confirmed it was more a precaution. She insisted the cop walk with them back to their car. She took quiet glee at how much he sweated, turned red with the little exercise, and was embarrased at his shape.

Getting in the car, her youngest asked her: “Momma, where did you learn that? Weren’t you afraid?” She smiled. “Various places, my child, and yes, I was terrified. But you learn to read and react to life’s challenges.”

She thought: “Read and react.” She looked around the parking lot. 360 degrees. “Seat belts! Two!”, she cried out. “Three, four, five, six”, came from the back. “OK, let’s go check on Number One!”.

Read and react!

She added “getting another 380 to her list for after the hospital. Til then she have to be satisfied with her knife and her hands.

Read and react.

She pulled out of the parking lot with a slight smile.

+++++


GUNS: “just a group of kids” that can kill you

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

http://www.ohio.com/news/50172282.html

Akron police investigate teen mob attack on family
By Phil Trexler
Beacon Journal staff writer
POSTED: 07:44 p.m. EDT, Jul 07, 2009

*** begin quote ***

Akron police say they aren’t ready to call it a hate crime or a gang initiation.

But to Marty Marshall, his wife and two kids, it seems pretty clear.

It came after a family night of celebrating America and freedom with a fireworks show at Firestone Stadium. Marshall, his family and two friends were gathered outside a friend’s home in South Akron.

Out of nowhere, the six were attacked by dozens of teenage boys, who shouted ”This is our world” and ”This is a black world” as they confronted Marshall and his family.

The Marshalls, who are white, say the crowd of teens who attacked them and two friends June 27 on Girard Street numbered close to 50. The teens were all black.

”This was almost like being a terrorist act,” Marshall said. ”And we allow this to go on in our neighborhoods?”

They said it started when one teen, without any words or warning, blindsided and assaulted Marshall’s friend as he stood outside with the others.

When Marshall, 39, jumped in, he found himself being attacked by the growing group of teens.

His daughter, Rachel, 15, who weighs about 90 pounds, tried to come to his rescue. The teens pushed her to the ground.

His wife, Yvonne, pushed their son, Donald, 14, into bushes to keep him protected.

”My thing is,” Marshall said, ”I didn’t want this, but I was in fear for my wife, my kids and my friends. I felt I had to stay out there to protect them, because those guys were just jumping, swinging fists and everything.

”I’m lucky. They didn’t break my ribs or bruise my ribs. I thank God, they concentrated on my thick head because I do have one. They were trying to take my head off my spine, basically.”

After several minutes of punches and kicks, the attack ended and the group ran off. The Marshalls’ two adult male friends were not seriously hurt.

”I don’t think I thought at that moment when I tried to jump in,” Rachel Marshall said. ”But when I was laying on the ground, I was just scared.”

Marshall was the most seriously injured. He suffered a concussion and multiple bruises to his head and eye. He said he spent five nights in the critical care unit at Akron General Medical Center.

The construction worker said he now fears for his family’s safety, and the thousands of dollars in medical bills he faces without insurance.

”I knew I was going to get beat, but not as bad as I did,” Marshall said. ”But I did it to protect my family. I didn’t have a choice. There was no need for this. We should be all getting along. But to me, it seems to be racist.”

Akron police are investigating. Right now, the case is not being classified as a racial hate crime. There were no other reports of victims assaulted by the group that night.

The department’s gang unit is involved in the investigation, police said.

”We don’t know if it’s a known gang, or just a group of kids,” police Lt. Rick Edwards said.

The Marshalls say they fear retaliation at home or when they go outside. They are considering arming themselves, but they’re concerned about the possible problems that come with guns.

For now, they are hoping police can bring them suspects. They believe they can identify several of the attackers.

”This makes you think about your freedom,” Marshall said. ”In all reality, where is your freedom when you have this going on?”

Akron police say they aren’t ready to call it a hate crime or a gang initiation.

But to Marty Marshall, his wife and two kids, it seems pretty clear.

It came after a family night of celebrating America and freedom with a fireworks show at Firestone Stadium. Marshall, his family and two friends were gathered outside a friend’s home in South Akron.

Out of nowhere, the six were attacked by dozens of teenage boys, who shouted ”This is our world” and ”This is a black world” as they confronted Marshall and his family.

The Marshalls, who are white, say the crowd of teens who attacked them and two friends June 27 on Girard Street numbered close to 50. The teens were all black.

*** end quote ***

Instead of being unarmed victims, guns would have ended the attack in seconds. It’s no doubt that the attackers were using deadly force. If every adult and responsible teenager had a weapon, they could have defended themselves.

Then, I’m sure we would have seen Al Sharpton protesting that these were just innocent students out celebrating Obama’s election.

I find this very depressing. It’s the beginning of race riots.

The Second Amendment says these people have a RIGHT to keep and bear arms. To protect themselves.

What if they had killed the breadwinner. Now he’s stuck for medical bills as a crime victim. Society didn’t do a good job of protecting him for his allegiance. And liberal politicians take away our gun rights every change they get!

Argh, sheeple.

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LIBERTY: Free Speech and the British

Saturday, July 11, 2009


200907111509.jpg

(Supplied by one of my networking colleagues!)

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GUNS: Who is responsible for personal safety?

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

http://ncc-1776.org/tle2009/tle525-20090628-04.html

Exodus From Reality
by Wayne Grantham
Attribute to The Libertarian Enterprise

*** begin quote ***

Remember, when seconds count, the police are only minutes away.

*** end quote ***

Why do people feel they don’t need to defend themselves?

A gun is the “great equalizer”.

Maybe if we armed women, maybe if we taught “guns 101” in school, maybe if we forced people to take responsibility for their own safety … then just maybe crime would be miniscule.

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WRITING: My Uncle’s House (An Index Card Novel)

Monday, July 6, 2009

The problems all started with the international collapse of the dollar. Dollars could no longer buy anything internationally. It wasn’t long before those dollars couldn’t buy much inside the US either. Oh they were still handy to pay taxes with! The government was really screwed. The more the value of a dollar collapsed; the more they could easily collect taxes. People brought the dollars to pay their taxes in wheelbarrows of dollar bundles. Just as in prisons, cigarettes or sardines are currency. In the “free world”, barter became fashionable. Silver and gold began to allow commerce to resume. While the “official” world market price of gold or silver was 7,000 yuan to the ounce, there was no dollars that could buy gold. You could buy a yuan for 2,700 dollars; you might even find some one silly enough to sell it to you. Any way, that made the price of an ounce of gold about 20 million Federal Reserve Banknote dollars. Why anyone would do that is incomprehensible? Funny, thing was that any tailor would make you or any clothing store would be happy to sell you their finest suit for two gold ounces. After the total collapse of the economy, a subsistence economy resumed based on barter and small transactions in silver coins.

+++++

It was cold last night. The thermostat for the house was set at 40 degrees. It was the house that he had inherited from his uncle. Before the latest round of death taxes made the rate 95% from dollar one. No one would be inheriting this house again. Forty degrees! That’s all the heat that we could afford. Just enough to keep the pipes from freezing.

He, his wife, his beloved twins, and the two younger children lived in the Master Bedroom. He’d build the bunk beds himself out of scrap lumber they found and scavenged. His sister, her husband, and their three kids live in the second bedroom. His cousin, his husband, and their two children live in the third small bedroom. The garage was occupied by another pair of cousins and their children. The house was over occupied by anyone’s standard.

The township bureaucrats were still trying to handle the influx of all sorts of double ups. Multiple generations of families were living together. Only if there was no “blood” relation, could they “red tag” the building and force everyone out. Where people go in that case, they assert is not their problem. The bureaucrats would then move to seize the house as a participant in an “economic crime”. Some one would but it to rent out. People had to live somewhere. Amazing how the bureaucrats always seemed to be landlords.

+++++

The Department of Homeland Security using Google’s seized technology, was overflying the country with its scanners. When “threats” were found, local agents were dispatched to arrest the trouble makers.

The agents barged into the Uncle’s house demanding to see him. The nephew took them to a corner of the backyard. A small wooden cross marked it. The agent cited him for an unlicensed cemetery. Another bill to be paid. But they had lots of dollars. No heat, but lots of paper.

The agent showed him the ariel picture taken with ground penetrating radar. In the backyard, there was random buried junk. But in the front yard, the slogan was clearly visible on the scan. “Sic Semper Tyrannis” Unmistakable. The agent gave him a day to dig it up and correct the problem. And, another citation for an unlicensed advertisement. The nephew bit his tongue. Several of the folks in the house were cited for various violations. They’d total it up tonight. And, see who had what that could be hocked to pay for their “freedom”.

So several of the adults were out digging. With the one real shovel and several improvised tools. The nephew’s wife got some salt. “For replanting!” Grass, or rather the absence of, would make a political statement. The metal was only a few inches down. Easily removable.

But under the metal was a little surprise. A plastic tube. Sealed at both ends. Printed on the tube, in a shake handwritten letters, “Sic Semper Tyrannis”. The tubes were brought back to the house quickly and quietly. Who new which of the neighbors was the Homeland Security snitch?

+++++

The children were sent to bed. The adults gathered in the living room. The first tube was opened.

A block of old FRB dollars came tumbling out.

The nephew involuntarily exclaimed: “Stupid, Old Man, stupid!”

Another shake and out came some heavy plastic cylinders and a note. The note said: “I’m old; not senile! Here’s some stuff I think you might need.”

In the cylinders, gold coins. Another tube held a rifle. Pistols. Ammo. Knives.

+++++

The nephew and the other men went out that night. The Homeland Security patrol was goofing off behind the strip club where honest women had to degrade themselves to support their families. The patrol would get free sex to allow them to proceed home. The men crawled up. The patrol never knew what hit them.

+++++

Newspaper and internet ad: “The Department of Homeland Security is please to announce that due to promotions there are openings in the Patrol Division. All that is required is a certificate of political correctness. blah, blah, blah”

No one applied.

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WRITING: Where2Aim (An Index Card Story)

Monday, June 29, 2009

Where2Aim (An Index Card Story)

She is a thin young blonde college student. Senior. Slightly shy. Built. Demure. Feeling her way in the world. Out on her own for the first time. Classes and the dorm were all strange. Some of the guys were nice. Some of the others on the hunt were threatening. She stuck to her pack and the scarier guys were moved on by the herd effect. Graduation and everyone went their separate ways. She moved to the City. Her own apartment. With a room mate. A girl, of course. Like herself, a recent graduate. “Madison Avenue” competitors in the same industry, but fellow travelers on life’s road. One of the “hunters” from her college days looked her up. She was uncomfortable with his attentions. Told him so. But there was no “herd” to drive him off. So it was not surprising that one night after the girls were asleep, he came “calling”. Silently he cut the window glass that let him into the kitchen. Like a cat, he made his way to her bedroom. As he turned the door handle, he heard something drop to the floor on the other side. He pushed in quickly! He’d expected to find her “take-able”.

Surprise!

She was upright in the bed with a BIG ugly gun. “HALT!”, she yelled in a surprisingly deep voice. He was impressed. And, somewhat scared. In the dim light of the bedroom, he liked what he saw. He always knew she had nice assets. But, he was turned off by her aim. A little woman had not aimed at the center of mass. Some what lower! He noted that her finger was on the gun’s frame, bent in a half-circle. She was no longer timid and shy. She was a different person. “ON YOUR KNEES! NOW!” He had a decision to make. That aim and that confidence! Mostly that aim. He had no desire to be a eunuch.

+++++

The Police Detective was finishing up the report. The “fun” was over and all that was left was the paperwork. “And, Miss, here’s your desk appearance ticket for an unregistered handgun. With Heller, it’s a very nebulous legal environment. We’ve had to take your handgun. A real beauty. Sorry we had to take it. You wont be getting it back. So where did you get it? It’s a big gun for a little girl.”

Her thoughts went back to a crazy uncle who had said some even crazier things. When she graduated and announced she was going to the city. He gave her a 1911, took her to the range, and instructed her on the fine art of trigger discipline. And instructed her where to aim. His parting words were “don’t hesitate”. She always slept with the 1911 under her pillow. Slept lightly, but safe. Like her uncle was there protecting her.

She locked the door after he left. Went to the closet. And, found her uncle’s range box. The detective didn’t know but her uncle believed in twins. She’d be moving home to New Hampshire tomorrow. She’d had enough of the Capitol City’s “protection”.

+++++

“But NOTHING reduces a man’s fear of being shot in the genitals. This point of aim seems to definitely get their attention, in my experience.” Massad Ayoob

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