Pffflt!

All of us listen to the same news, get the same information and yet have varying opinions on what happened in Ferguson, MO, the night Officer Wilson confronted Michael Brown.  None of us know what we would've done in this situation.  If you say you do then you're a liar.  We know what we want to do, or hope we would do. Those of us in law enforcement rely on what we're trained to do.  

A split-second or less is the approximate amount of time we have to make life or death decisions based on minimal facts, visual observations, training, and experience.  These decisions are accompanied by adrenaline dumps.  Adrenaline, as defined by MedicineNet, is a stress hormone produced in the adrenal gland that quickens the heart beat, strengthens the force of the heart's contraction, and opens up the bronchioles in the lungs.  It's not uncommon to temporarily diminish your sense of hearing and touch, but also heighten your sense of smell and slowing your perception of time.  The secretion of adrenaline is part of the human 'fight or flight' response to fear, panic, or perceived threat. (Perceived is another good vocabulary word to understand: to become aware of, know, or identify by means of the senses: I perceived an object looming through the mist. 2. to recognize, discern, envision, or understand [Dictionary.com])

How often do you think the average person experiences these physiological changes then go through it again and again with little to no time for recovery in between? Two or three times in a month, a year?  Law enforcement officers experience this daily, if not multiple times a day depending on the call for service.  From neighbors arguing over a dog crapping on the lawn to shots fired with multiple victims, we respond to every call with the same expectation...we go home safe at the end of shift.

I was saddened by the public outcry for an indictment of Officer Wilson, and angered by their  reactions to the grand jury's decision.  They didn't want justice, they were gathered like a lynch mob wanting a public hanging.  

The celebrity reaction didn't surprise me: "Celebrities expressed sadness, frustration and disappointment across social media Monday after a grand jury in Missouri declined to bring charges against police officer Darren Wilson for the Aug. 9 shooting of unarmed black teen Michael Brown." Then the articles drone on with tweets and postings from the Hollywood liberals.

The media continues it's pot-stirring and racial divide with their use of "unarmed black teen". Face it people, Michael Brown was of age to fight for his country and vote, which is what we call an ADULT.  But that just wouldn't be newsworthy, would it?  I don't care if he was blue with red polka dots.  I don't care if he had a cell phone or an UZI in his waistband.  Michael Brown was no child, no "teen" without direction, no victim of a hate crime.  He was an adult who made a decision that cost him his life.

What vexes me with this case isn't the the actions of the suspect or the officer's reaction to the perceived threat, it's not even the protesters and political asshats showing up for their 15 minutes of fame.  It's the combination of: 1) the public's sense of entitlement and lack of common sense, and 2) that we rely on a biased media to tell us the truth.

Had it been a female officer of any race, her skills and abilities would have been questioned based on gender and the story would've died within 24 hours.

Had it been a black male officer, the political jackhats would've said "tisk tisk, more black on black violence" and this case would've never made national news.

Had Michael Brown been an "unarmed white teen" or a female of any race, it may have been aired once on a local station then forgot about because frankly it just doesn't pull in the ratings.  Go ahead, disagree.  Then you can just stand there in your wrongness and be wrong.

We cry for justice then denounce the very system we put in place to decide it.  We cry for help, then condemn the men and women who respond to provide it. "To change the hearts and minds of men you must learn to listen; otherwise your words will fall on deaf ears, for the opinions of fools are always louder. ~L.S. Buckley"

Attack of the Garage Door

Today is tough in my writing world. I'm without the use of my left middle finger, the "D" finger on my keyboard and all other keys that my middle finger clicks. You see, I was attacked this morning.
It happened something like this: Here I am, rushing out of the house to get my 3rd grader to school for the last day before summer break begins. Mind you, I have my 5-1/2 month old son in the back of the Jeep as well. I pull out of the garage, hit the button on the remote to close it, and nothing. I remembered the issue we had with it over the weekend not closing properly and did a quick check of the sensors. No green lights were lit and I didn't have time to mess with it. So, I yanked the chord to release it from the motor and went to shut it manually when...OUCH! Sonofa&*^%$! My left middle finger got caught in between the panels and SMASH! It flattened my finger from behind the top knuckle to the tip of my fingernail. Blood immediately started spurting--more like gushing--from under my nail. At least it was releasing the pressure so I didn't rush to the ER. My oldest son tried to come to my rescue but was grossed out at the sight of the blood and reclused back into the Jeep. I wrapped my whole hand in a wet dishtowel and drove my manual 5 speed to my son's school. He was late. My 5 month old, thank God, was being an absolute doll during the whole chaos.
I get home and I'm having to do everything one-handed as the bleeding still has not stopped. My baby boy is grabbing at me as I'm trying to get him out of his carseat and what does he get hold of...yep, again OUCH! I fianlly get changed into my work clothes, jeans--which were a pain to button, and flip-flops--as I gave up after the jeans and couldn't tie my sneakers. I threw on a baseball hat--Yankees, of course, and off we went again. Work was hilarious as most of my job is done on a computer. Needless to say I was not very productive today. In the time it took me to type this blog post I would have normally written 4-5 pages of my book. So thanks to my garage door and my impatience, my deadline for my book just died. I'm having to reschedule a few dates, but in the end my "pen" will still be mightier than my "sword".