This is the first day of spring? So where’s the sun?
Frankly, I’m stumped.
(Rimshot.)
And yes, I know, nobody in his right mind living in a desert climate complains about rain. But right mind and I have not shared the same ZIP code for the better part of quite some time. And I have bicycles that are badly in need of riding.
The good news is, after today and tonight we’re looking at a stretch of sunny and 70s. The better news? We don’t live in New York City.
Longtime Friend of the DogS(h)ite® Khal S. notes in comments that the Bernalillo County DA has leveled murder charges against the Albuquerque cops who shot dead a homeless man (as seen on CopCam!). Here’s the Albuquerque Journal story, which may require you to answer a few stupid questions but contains more detail than The New York Times piece referenced above.
This will be one to watch for a number of reasons. First, the killing was captured on video, which law prof David A. Harris says can make it “impossible to deny some of the very basic facts.” And second, the local gendarmes have thus far gone uncharged despite having compiled a body count that even Westhisface would envy.
Elsewhere, we learn about the potential for collateral damage from those cheapo flash-bang grenades the cops are so fond of. The Albuquerque officers used one against the homeless guy, before shooting him with assault rifles and beanbag guns and finally setting a police dog on him; apparently arty and air support were unavailable. Seems a flash-bang can do a lot more than make scary lights and noise. They’ve also “severed hands and fingers, induced heart attacks, burned down homes, and killed pets.”
There was a time, back when your man on the beat carried a .38 Special, that the cops considered themselves under-gunned in comparison with the bad guys. I think it’s fair to say that the pendulum may have swung a tad too far in the other direction. And some of the “bad guys” just aren’t that bad.
• Extra-Credit Reading On Crime and Punishment: Check out The Baltimore Sun story on the drunk bishop. Based on the choice of image I’d say someone manning the website has a particularly dark sense of humor.
Downtime. Hasn’t been much of that sort of thing around here lately.
If you haven’t moved for a dozen years or so, it’s something of a shock to the system, like waking up in a strange room with the notion that you’ve been misbehaving again. The police may or may not consider you “a person of interest.” Nothing is where it should be — groceries, banking, your favorite ride.
Little disruptions abound. Walls without art, windows without shades, a wife with a job that no longer permits working from home three days a week.
Things need doing, and all of them take more time than they did back home. Just where the hell are the English muffins in this Bizarro World Whole Foods, anyway? Not where I’d put ’em, that’s for sure. The eyeball doc says Mister Boo needs another procedure? Put the English muffins back, we’re all gonna be eating dog food for a while. The city won’t pick up glass for recycling? No wonder the bike lanes are full of it.
Oh, the humanity. Caninity. Velocity. Whatever.
Then, suddenly, a pause for the cause. Nothing needs doing. Well, not right now, anyway. So there’s time for a short ‘cross-bike ride through the desert, a fiery platter of enchiladas de Herrera from El Bruno’s Restauranté y Cantina, and our millionth viewing of “Blazing Saddles” in honor of David Huddleston, a resident of Santa Fe.
How ’bout some more beans, Mister Taggart?
This is so not a 20-minute ride from my house. No, sir. Nuh uh. Never happen. Horrible place for cycling, Albuquerque. Don’t ever come here.
This is either my impression of Ebola sweeping the nation or a quick iPhone shot through the windshield while zooming past Santa Fe on the latest 12-hour U-turn from Duke City to Bibleburg and back.
The Old Home Place® still stands, and I had a chance to chat with several of our former neighbors while trying to see how much stuff I could cram into a Subaru Forester without actually causing its rims to bottom out on the driveway.
This took my mind off what blithering eejits we’ve become over this Ebola business. Seems you don’t actually have to have the disease to shit yourself over it.
Tell you what, though. I get sick in Texas, I’d rather see a barber than a Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital sawbones.
Mad Blog Media 