(a follow-up to the November 8 post I Sometimes HATE Novembers, as promised…)
So, here I was, in my insurance-paid-for-rented-condo, about a mile North of my home, while contractors rebuilt it, after the drunk driver had hit it two weeks prior. That’s what I get for buying a corner lot, off a street that zig-zags. Drunks never caught that nuance, head straight for the alley, see the power pole, and crash into my back yard.
It had happened before. Last time it was just the fence that was destroyed.
I, of course, still had to go to work, pay bills, and check the mail at the house, all while surveying the excruciatingly-slow process of rebuilding the rear of my home and replacing the fence.
Thankfully (?) I was beginning to have more health issues (joy, joy) which meant I was missing more work. Which gave me the excuse to stop by and check the mail and the progress of the reconstruction more often.
And, it had been a couple of days since I had last checked the mail, and it was my birthday(!), so I thought I’d check the mail again. Hell, there might be a birthday check from someone in the mail? :-)
I pull into the driveway. No contractors present. This always bothered me, as this process was taking forever. Of course, mine wasn’t their only project.
(This had been a little over two weeks!)
AND THE SIDE DOOR WAS STANDING OPEN ABOUT TWO INCHES!
This alarmed me, as no one was around. The door had been always locked and the extra key placed in one of those Realtor-access combination locks around the door knob. Which was now nowhere to be seen!
I exited the car and drew my 1911 pistol. (Yeah, I know. All my training (which I had trained others to do many times before) was to leave the area to a relatively safe location and call the police to respond. After all, there may have been multiple armed intruders inside burgling my home!)
BUT, this was MY HOME! And the training went out the window. Sigh.
I slowly entered the kitchen, listening intently for any activity inside, pistol at-the-ready. Then into the living room, bath and two bedrooms. This was relatively quick, as it was a 740 square-foot house.
It was obvious someone else had been inside. Someone NOT a contractor. A home computer, portable television, stereo, some faux Samurai swords and a number of other items were missing. Movers had taken many of the larger furniture items to put into storage prior to the reconstruction. But I was told they were unable to take the gun safe, as they were prohibited from storing firearms.
They had removed the Dillon XL 650 reloading press from it’s mount, preparatory to the rebuild. But had not put it into storage. (I guess it was gun-related). It was gone.
And the 800 pound, Fort Knox gun safe was missing. And this was on the floor…
Someone obviously had pried off the combination dial and locking lever to open the safe. And when that failed, THEY TOOK THE ENTIRE 800 POUND SAFE!
Credit cards, spare checks, school transcripts, cameras, my birth certificate and over fifty firearms! Gone.
First, I called the insurance company, to see if they had perhaps authorized storage of the safe and it’s contents, and had inadvertently broken the locking mechanism somehow in transit. Then, I called the mover and the police.
And was scolded by the 911 operator, as it was for emergencies only. How was fifty+ firearms possibly out on the street was not an emergency?
Ultimately, the contractor, the storage guy, my insurance man and the police arrived on the scene. I recounted my actions upon arriving multiple times for each of them. And I was livid. To keep me occupied (and busy and out of the way) the police advised me to make a list of what was in the safe, including all the firearms and serial numbers.
I knew most of their descriptions by heart, but the list (with Polaroids and serial numbers) was not around. It was probably in the materials previously packed and moved to storage.
Fortunately, I still had many of the receipts and gun boxes, which were labeled on the edge with the numbers.
And set about making the list on a legal pad.
All parties were questioned. The contractor’s employees all had cellular telephones they were required to keep with them at all times (for GPS tracking purposes). And all passed the location test.
As if someone couldn’t have left the phone at home off-hours to do a burglary? Or they told someone else? Come on! I never broadcast about the safe in my home, suddenly, after many strangers had seen it, it went missing.
After six months, the house was reconstructed, painted, re-floored (safe drag marks) cleaned (even clothes in the closet dry cleaned!) and restocked with the stored items. I had called in to stop all my credit cards the same day.
I received a check for the maximum available from my policy. (Note-to-self: Make certain all valuables are covered, and if there is a cap it covers all firearms. I was insured for a maximum of 5K on the firearms, eventually paid just over 7K total. Firearm valuation of the missing? Over 21K! in 2009 gun values)
Fortunately, I had taken my favorite 1911 and .38 snub with me to the condo!
And none of the identity items, credit cards or firearms have ever surfaced.
I’m thinking Mexico, and thank God that Fort Knox makes a quality piece of security equipment! I suspect it’s abandoned in the desert somewhere, still unopened. (Let this be a lesson – if you’ve not done so already, bolt your safe to the foundation and wall studs – even if it weighs 800 pounds!)
And among the missing are my electroless nickel Colt Gold Cup, 1969 Browning High Power, 4 AR-15s, my Ithaca Deerslayer Police Special 12 gauge, my pre-model 27 Smith & Wesson 5″, my Sig-Sauer P220 – marked made in W. Germany(!) and my 1942 Springfield Garand!!
I had to use the insurance money for other things, and never was able to replace any of the missing firearms.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
FTC – Fort Knox safes gave me nothing. I bought it at a gun show. Leave me alone!
Bernie Sanders’ 100% Tax: “Nobody Should Earn More Than $1 Million”
“Make it illegal to amass more wealth than a human family could use in a lifetime.”
Here in the People’s Republic of New York, the streets are covered with crazed Bernie Sanders stickers promising a glorious Socialist utopia in which no one, except taxpayers, will ever have to work again.
Sanders apologists claim that he’s a moderate Swedish Socialist, not one of those crazy Communist or Nazi guys. But his history suggests that he’s redder than a fire engine. And we’re not just talking about his flirtation with Communist countries, but Communist ideas.
I always marvel at the
socialist communist dialectic.
The idea that if one makes X minus $1.00 dollars, it’s okay, but X dollars or more? – Suddenly it’s too much, unconscionable!
And then it must be redistributed! For the people!
The old dictum Qui Bono (who benefits) needs to be amended.
It should read Qui decernit (who decides?)
There seems to be some surprise expressed by the author regarding Sanders’ communism.
To be fair, he’s not been secretive about his beliefs.
No more than The President was regarding his income redistrubutive/leveling-the-playing-field beliefs.
And still, people were surprised…
Wake Up America! Don’t be like Bernie in the movies – Dead and still acting!
(from Patrick J. Buchanan, as reported in Human Events)
“Dalton Trumbo was a socialist, but he loved being rich.”
So says Bryan Cranston, who stars in “Trumbo,” out this week, and plays the screenwriter who went to prison with the Hollywood Ten in the time of Harry Truman.
Actually, Trumbo was not a socialist. Bernie Sanders is a socialist. Trumbo was a Stalinist, a hard-core Communist when the Communist Party USA was run from Moscow by the Comintern, agents of the greatest mass murderer of the 20th century.
Trumbo was not what Lenin called a “useful idiot,” a liberal simpleton. He was the real deal, a Bolshevik who followed every twist and turn in the Moscow party line.
When Hitler signed his infamous pact with Stalin, and Germany and Russia crucified Poland and Hitler overran France, Trumbo justified the Nazi brutality, “To the vanquished all conquerors are inhuman.”
As Churchill led his country in defying Hitler, Trumbo, in his 1941 novel, “The Remarkable Andrew,” trashed Britain as no democracy, as it had a king, and charged FDR with “black treason” for seeking to aid the Brits in their desperate fight to stave off defeat by the Nazis.
A talented screenwriter who wrote “Roman Holiday,” “Spartacus” and “Exodus,” Trumbo was attracted to revolutionary violence.
Invited to do a screenplay of William Styron’s “Confessions of Nat Turner,” about the Virginia slave who led a rampage of rape and murder in 1831, Trumbo wrote back:
“[I]n carrying through his rebellion Turner did nothing more than accept a principle of white Christian violence which had enslaved all of Africa, and used it for the first time in American history as a weapon against white Christians.”
Biographer Larry Ceplair quotes Trumbo as describing America as “fundamentally” racist, with racism “the keystone of national policy both domestic and foreign…
“How many gooks have we killed in Korea? How many slopes in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia? Millions, and we’re still killing more of them. Our thirst for the blood of dark-skinned sub-humans is insatiable.”
Why is Hollywood making a movie about Trumbo?
To whitewash the traitor and his comrades who were blacklisted for refusing to testify to the House Un-American Activities Committee about their Communist Party membership and affiliations.
In promoting “Trumbo,” Hollywood’s flacks write of the late 1940s as the “darkest days” in American history.
They were dark all right. But probably less dark for Tinseltown Bolsheviks than the hundreds of millions who fell under the rule of the revolutions and regimes they supported in those years.
Between 1946 and 1950, Stalin murdered the Russian POWs we sent back in Operation Keelhaul, imposed his barbarous rule on 10 Christian nations of Eastern Europe, blockaded Berlin, built an atom bomb with the aid of American traitors Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, helped Mao Zedong conquer China and begin a slaughter of Chinese that would exceed the millions attributed to Stalin himself.
In 1950, Stalin backed Kim Il-Sung’s invasion of South Korea that left millions dead, including 33,000 Americans. The film script, “An American Story,” found in Trumbo’s papers, reveals deep sympathy for North Korea during that war.
As Allan Ryskind, son of Hollywood writer Morrie Ryskind, writes in “Hollywood Traitors,” his definitive new book published by Regnery, “There appeared to be no corkscrew twist in the Soviet line [Trumbo] wouldn’t embrace.”
With all its attendant favorable publicity, “Trumbo,” is designed to accomplish several goals. No only to heroize the Hollywood Ten, but to demean John Wayne and the other patriots who, along with Ronald Reagan of the Screen Actors Guild, helped clean the treasonous vermin out of their town and industry.
The villainess of “Trumbo,” played by Helen Mirren, is Hedda Hopper, the anti-Communist columnist who had considerable clout in Hollywood and backed Ronald Reagan, Ryskind Sr. and John Wayne, who eventually drove the Communists from their midst.
Larger issues are raised by this film.
If one has been a Communist, or a Nazi, and supported that evil ideology and its aims, what is one’s moral obligation to one’s country?
Is it not to step forward, and tell the truth?
What was the duty of Congress, if not to expose ideological treason in the most powerful cultural force in the America of that day?
What was the duty of the leaders of a great industry that found a nest of traitors in their midst, whose deepest allegiance was to our mortal enemy?
For remaining mute, refusing to testify before the Congress, the Hollywood Ten are portrayed as martyrs to the First Amendment.
Yet, as Communists, they were providing aid and comfort to the greatest enemies free speech and freedom of the press ever had.
Had the Hollywood Ten supported a subversive party in Stalin’s Moscow, what would have happened to them might have been slightly worse than not getting screen credits for the movies they wrote.
By joining a criminal conspiracy dedicated to the overthrow of the government established to protect our freedoms, and the imposition of Communist tyranny, the Hollywood Ten got what they deserved.
By their treason, they blacklisted themselves.
Funny how it keeps coming out that Senator McCarthy was right – there were Communists hiding in government, the military and Hollywood. But he f***** himself over, being a Constitution-stomping media whore, and was then rightfully censured for having done so.
Of course, now we just elect anti-American bastards outright, and they bring unrepentant terrorists and foreign agents right into the Seat of Government. No need to hide, now…
And while much of Europe is now acting to push the Trojan Horse of ‘refugees’ back out the gates, the United States is continuing to offer them sanctuary, paying little attention to the lessons of the Paris attacks.
I wonder if fifty years from now, screenwriters will be writing romantically about the treasonous acts of the terrorism pioneers of the American Caliphate.
November 8, 2007
I had spent Saturday night with my (then) girlfriend J. (who is now my landlord – it’s complicated) and we were caravaning back to my place in central Phoenix on Sunday night, around 7 PM. At the time, we both had Sunday’s and Monday’s off.
And I was about ten minutes ahead of her, preparing to pull into my driveway, when I noticed something annoying.
The porch light I had left on was not burning.
Damn! I just bought another yellow, incandescent bug bulb. They burn out so fast.
So, I pull into the drive, key my way in the back door, and head back to my bedroom to unpack.
It’s not just the bulb that’s off. My interior wall behind my bed has fallen upon it! The wall to the rear of the house seems to have moved laterally about 12 inches – making my doorway to the back office, computer/reloading room narrower by about a foot! I look in there, and most everything is strewn about and on the floor.
Exiting and looking into the adjacent bedroom, my gun safe remains, but the wall behind it has also shifted East about a foot!
I call J., who is still in route and explain something is very wrong.
Then, there is a knock on the carport door and I answer it. It’s a neighbor, who explains about 4 AM that morning, a vehicle drove through my fence and drove into my house! As it was much noise, many neighbors came out to investigate and found the truck had continued to plow through my yard, pushing the rear wall of my home sideways about a foot. He backed out and drove away, with the police in pursuit who stopped him about a block away.
It was a drunk driver in a company vehicle. Who knew?
The neighbors figured out I was not home, and as gas seemed to be leaking called the gas company and turned off all my breakers, promising the police and gasco they would have me contact them upon my arrival. Of course, no one knew where I was. The gas company shut off the gas. The police had left a note on my door asking I call them.
Then all went back to bed. And the drunk went to jail.
All while I was ignorantly asleep at my girlfriend’s house 17 miles to the S.E.!
Sunday became a late night. Calling my insurance man, who said they would pay for a (cheap) hotel, gathering up some additional clothes, and awaiting the construction guys who would plywood all the broken windows, the rear of the house and doors to make the house more secure.
More neighbors became aware of my returning home and stopped by to see if I was alright. The Latinos across the street – who spoke no English, and I suspect were illegals – brought me over a kitten to cheer me up!
Restless sleep began something like 0130.
And I was unable to return home except to check the mail for about six months, while the insurance company rebuilt my little house, moved me to a condo and cleaned up the mess.
Sadly, I had to return the kitten.
But wait, there’s more…
(look for the sequel in about two weeks!) :-)
(I will continue to post daily, this is just building suspense…)
from Activist Post, in part…
No card reader, no PIN pad, no touch-screen display — how you bank at your ATM could drastically change in the not-so-distant future. Citigroup is testing an automated teller machine made by Canton, Ohio-based Diebold that relies on your smartphone and perhaps an eye scan to dispense your cash.
Diebold’s so-called “Irving” system works like this: Let’s say you want to get $100 from your ATM.Instead of taking your bank card with you, you schedule your withdrawal ahead of time on your phone via your bank’s mobile app. When you walk up to the screenless machine, it identifies you in one of several ways: Near Field Communication (NFC, the same type of technology used in Apple Pay’s mobile payment service), QR Code (for Quick Response Code, a machine-readable bar code that’s been used extensively in Japan) or biometrics (scanning your iris, a technique that’s considered far more fail-safe than fingerprints as a form of ID).The machine then spits out the cash and you go on your merry way.
Diebold said the entire transaction could be completed in less than 10 seconds. The new system is more secure than traditional ATMs, in part because you wouldn’t need a card and wouldn’t have to punch in a PIN, the company said.
“Our latest concepts embody a new era of banking and put the user experience at the top of the pyramid to connect consumers with their money when and how they see fit,” Frank Natoli, Diebold executive vice president, self-service technology, said in a press release.
I predicted this probably 10 years ago, when I was a senior credit card fraud investigator. Of course, I also predicted as persons were being taken at gunpoint to ATMs to have their accounts forcibly emptied, this new security technology would allow the robber to bypass the middle man. By removing digits or eyes for them to obtain access at their leisure.
Don’t believe it’ll happen? Just wait…
I’d two thoughts when Dave the
genius mechanic forwarded me this cartoon. (Hi, Dave! Hope Dallas is treating you well?)
- I remembered junior high, wherein a couple-times-a-year, some fool would either pull the fire alarm or call in a bomb threat. This was 1963-66. There was a perfunctory evac while the school was checked, and we went back to class, in an orderly fashion.
I imagine the kid who was trying to avoid taking a test had to anyway. This was not terrorism.
2. The Ray Bradbury book (and the film) Fahrenheit 451. Once a futuristic tale of government sponsored book-burning, foiled by people who made it their life’s work and duty to memorize the banned books in toto, to pass on to future generations.
Now, yet again, the sedan of censorship is driving over the works of people like Mark Twain, using the wheel of political correctness. And people are wanting to excise symbols of the Confederacy, as though not being reminded of slavery and federal government takeover of State power will make it not have existed.
No gasoline needed.