National Public Radio just announced the death of some guy who was known for helping fund, “freedom fighters in Afghanistan fight the Soviet Union.” And then, without any further talk, segued right into a story about the dangers of the Taliban’s links to Al Qaeda.
Oh, the irony!
[For those who don’t get it, those guys that Reagan called “freedom fighters” werethe Taliban.]
“A doctor testifying for the defense in the NYPD sodomy trial told jurors on Wednesday that the alleged victim’s injuries couldn’t have come from a police baton.
…
‘Do I have an opinion on it? I don’t believe it happened.’”
I’m not a football fan. Baseball is my game. But I enjoyed watching the game last night and rooting for the Saints (and my wife won $140 in the betting pool–of which I made off with $50 since I paid for her squares).
I was rooting for the Saints because if I don’t have a personal stake: 1) I root for the better city, 2) I just like rooting for New Orleans in general, and 3) the Colts left Baltimore! And they didn’t just leave but they snuck out of town in the middle of a night during a snow storm! At least that’s how I remember it. I was only 12 and had no personal stake. I had never been to Baltimore. Still, it didn’t seem fair.
What surprises me about Baltimore’s relations with the Colts is how, at least in 2000, so many people seemed to wish them well. By comparison, I think you’d have a damn tough time finding any kind words in Brooklyn about the Dodgers. Is Baltimore more forgiving or did I just not understand the dynamics?
I suppose it helped that the Ravens won the Super Bowl that year (probably the only three hours in history there were no calls for service). But still, is it true that Baltimore does not hate the Colts? And if not, why not? Maybe it can be summed up in just two words: Johnny Unitas.
I didn’t post for over a month and guess what? I kind of liked it.
So here’s my plan: less posting. Maybe once or twice a week. We’ll see how it goes.
If you need daily fixes of police news (and granted I still do), I urge you to look at all the links on the right side of this page. There’s some good stuff out there. And that’s where I get half my shit anyway.
I love all my readers (well… all but one or two). But still, blogging is kind of a one-way relationship.
Writing is hard work. Now no doubt blog writing is lesshard work that “real” writing. But still, it’s work. And it’s not like I get paid for this. Just think… instead of writing stuff here I could be prepping for classes, or dating my wife, or cooking, or watching baseball, or playing pinball, or thinking about trains. Hell, instead of writing here, I could be doing basically anything!
But mostly I’ve got another book to write: In Defense of Flogging. While it’s related to crime and justice, it’s actually not about policing at all. And writing this book is something I actually get paid for.
So in case I don’t post much and you wonder what I’m thinking, here are my beliefs to cover 90% of police issues:
1) Police: Good (but there’s always room for improvement).
2) War on Drugs: Bad.
3) Prison: We’ve got too many people in them.
4) Tasers: Vastly overused.
5) Democrats: Better than Republicans.
6) Always do the right thing.
Responsibility of the Moving Picture Show for Crime
The demoralizing character of some of the moving picture shows, says the New Jersey Law Journal, continues to be exemplified by proceedings from time to time in our local and county criminal courts. One of the latest instances was a case which came before Judge Case, of the Somerset County courts, where a bright little fellow of nine years of age was arraigned before the judge for truancy and for incorrigibility. The prosecutor informed the court that the root of the boy’s misconduct was the moving picture show, and the counsel for the boy stated that the offender had been a good child at home and obedient until he developed the passion for attending moving picture shows. The account of the case then goes on to say: “When the boy was commanded to stand up before Judge Case he burst into tears. Judge Case called him to his seat behind the bar and talked to him kindly, after which he announced that he would place him in charge of Probation Officer Osbourn for three years. In closing his remarks Judge Case said that the moving picture shows were undoubtedly the most demoralizing force in the country to-day. The pictures had a great fascination for even adults, and the graphic portrayals of holdups, robberies, and of immoral scenes and characters, made a lasting impression on the minds of children that were demoralizing in the extreme. Judge Case said that the court would expect the law relating to moving picture shows to be strictly obeyed in the county.”
My wife and I were in Kalibukbuk, Bali, visiting a few friends from Amsterdam, one of whom kind of lives in Bali now. He asked if we wanted to go see a cockfight. Well, in the name of Clifford Geertz and “thick description,” yes! (Hell, and this slightly worries me, I’ve enjoyed every bit of blood sport I’ve ever seen from bullfights to Thai Muay Thai kickboxing.)
Every student of sociology and anthropology knows Clifford Geertz’s classic, “Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight.” It’s based on his 1958 fieldwork. It’s a qualitative classic. Not until Geertz and his wife ran from a police raid of a cockfight were they accepted in the village.
Well I didn’t have to any running but it turns out that 50-years later, cockfighting is still illegal and not at all underground. Some places are shut down. But just because they don’t have enough money to pay off the police.
So one night at dinner we’re introduced to a slightly hardcore character who will take us (but only the men, he says) to a cockfight the next day.
So my buddy and I meet him and follow his mopen to the town of Singaraja. First we stop by his house where he judged the feistiness of a few of his cocks (and yes, the puns are same in the Balinese language) before placing one in a bag. They’re kept throughout Asia in these wicker cages.
We continued and got to the venue (we never would have found it on our own). I love the parking lot. I resisted the urge to push a bike over, starting the domino effect and certain bar fight.
In some ways all sports venues are the same. There are parking lot attendants, tickets, seats, fans, food vendors, and games. But nothing I’ve seen is quite like a Balinese cockfight. I wish I had internet access and could have reread Geertz’s piece. There was a lot going on I didn’t get. I respect a man with the skills to tie a razor to the foot of the rooster. The betting, $10 was normal, is high stakes for a poor country.
Some side betting games.
And one of the food vendors. We ate nuts and drank warm beer.
I guess pairing up the birds.
Tying on the razor.
Our man told us which bird to bet on.
Here’s some of the pre-fight scene:
Then, right before the fight start, there’s this brief silence and then this wave of sound, unlike anything I’ve ever heard. You can hear the sound (I didn’t start the recording early enough to get the “wave”) at the very start of this video. Fair Warning:this a video of a Balinese cockfight. These are birds with razors strapped to their leg killing each other. Don’t watch it if you don’t like it.
That was our man’s two-year old bird that died first. It was sold as food to somebody for $5. But the fight was a draw. I was happy with a draw because I may not know all the nuances of cockfighting, but I know a dead bird when I see one! If somebody won, it sure wasn’t us. But part of the rules is that the “winning” bird has be standing after or for a ten count.
Also worth a few pictures is the following day’s “pig roast in the hood” (my friend’s words, not mine). This involved killing a pig, cleaning it in the river, and roasting it over an open fire.
Here’s some of the scene, worth a few pictures:
Everybody loves cracklin! The pig was delicious. The people, friendly. A good time was had by all. We have the feeling they party a bit like this everyday, this day they just had a pig.
It would be remiss to not mention that in the river were, among other things, one woman bathing and brushing her teeth upstream and another doing laundry. On the opposite bank people were gutting and cleaning a dog to eat. We were told they only eat the “bad dogs.” Why not? Hell, on our side we were eating a dish made with raw pig’s blood (mixed with grated coconut, spices, and grilled pigs innards). If it all sounds hardcore, well, I suppose it kind of is. I think it’s only the second time bougie old me has eaten at a home without running water.
I also got a kick out of the fact that I was corrected for eating with my finger wrong. You can’t take me anywhere! I didn’t even know you couldeat with your fingers wrong. (Take note: after you grab your food, don’t put your fingers in your mouth but place the food on the ends of your first two fingers and then kind of shovel/push the food with your thumb into your mouth.)
The majority of trip was spend in Thailand and Bangkok. The food in Bangkok is incredible. I love Thai food and the Thais are truly more into food than any country I have ever seen. And their sheer obsession with food, the amount of prepared food for sale–delicious, clean, spicy food–is hard to imagine. But those stories are for another time.
Leaving Thailand, we saw perhaps the secret to their success: a sign keeping out all those with “‘hippy’ characteristics.”
And the police station sign on the Malaysian side of the border train station. We really did not want to leave Thailand, but damn it was nice to be a place again where you could sound out the alphabet!
And I’ve been to Maryland. I know Maryland. And this, my friends, is no deep fried fish Maryland (as seen in Georgetown, Penang, Malaysia).
The New York Times reportsthat, “Intense pressure to produce annual crime reductions led some supervisors and precinct commanders to manipulate crime statistics.”
I’m shocked. Shocked.
Reclassifying a $1,100 theft as a $950 theft isn’t the end of the world. But a police culture where it’s OK to play a bit fast and loose with the numbers is in nobody’s best interests.
Plus, if you play with the numbers this year, you have to play with the numbers next year just to keep even.
Does this mean the crime drop is a lie? No. Of course not.
But it does mean that hard-working and well intentioned officers are under too much pressure to produce better and better “stats.”
I think Michael Mineo is a liar. I’ve said it before here and here and I’ll say it again. The latest is this, “[A police baton] could not have possibly made the hole in this underwear,” said [a defense witness], “This is a square hole.”
Seems like pretty damning evidence. At the end of an expandable baton is a round little metal ball (which hurts like hell if you get hit by it). It can’t punch out a square hole. (I’d accept a rip, by the way.)
I suppose your opinion comes down to this: which do you think is more likely? That a cop would stick his own baton up a guy’s ass or that a two-bit idiot would make up a story to win big in a lawsuit against the police. To me, it’s no contest.
Seemed to me it was a good day in court for these officers. It’ll feel better when the officers get off.
Some side betting games.
And one of the food vendors. We ate nuts and drank warm beer.
I guess pairing up the birds.
Tying on the razor.
Everybody loves cracklin!
The pig was delicious. The people, friendly. A good time was had by all. We have the feeling they party a bit like this everyday, this day they just had a pig.
LEO beer.