Take an Asparin and get some Bed Rest

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While gathered around the campout fire this past week, I realized that Elma was a Canadian citizen who spent much of her adult life working in Oregon. She has since retired and is considering returning to her homeland.

Well, one of the things dissuading her return was health care. If you don't know, Canada has a government provided, and government run heath care system. And there are no doctors that work outside that system, meaning that you can not even pay your own money to see a doctor of your choice in Canada.

Elma said that there is a predetermined Average Life Expectancy (ALE) for health people in Canada, which fluctuates every year. When a medical procedure is recommended by a doctor, the government then calculates the number of years that remain before you reach the ALE, against the cost of the medical procedure. Since there is only a set amount of money available for medical care in the government's hopper, only those having the greatest longevity left before reaching the ALE age get to have the treatment. To make things even worse, if you are all ready in poor health, or if you are over the ALE age, there is little chance on receiving any costly procedure.

So, to put things in perspective, if the ALE is set at 70, and you have a pre-existing issue like diabetes, you're not likely to get a liver transplant regardless of your age. Or if you are diagnosed with prostrate cancer when you are 65 years old, you are not likely to get treatment. And if you are 72 years old when you fall and break your hip, you'll likely die soon thereafter. Just take some aspirin and get some bed rest. Only the young and healthy get the vast majority of medical services. Or those Canadians that can afford it, seek medical treatment in America.

Now, that's what Obummer wants for us. And although he first said that those that have private insurance, and are happy with it, can keep it, he more recently admitted that it would be likely that private insurance plans would be forced into bankruptcy within a few years, forcing us to join his plan.

Do you think Elma will return? A very, very, scary time at the Thought Dock.
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Founded in 2008

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Well, it has been a year and a month since I began this blog. If you've read the "About Me" section on the left column, you would know that I created this blog for me, to be me, and to reflect back and learn how I came to be me. And for the first few months, that was only what was discussed.

From those early days of the blog, I have learned a lot about me, partly by sharing my background, and in part from your comments. It was fun and it was good, but it got boring, and I realized that there was more to blogging. And from that, the Thought Dock emerged.

I've mentioned before, that I receive my inspiration and wisdom from the Thought Dock, and my goal is to share it with you. I publish my thoughts and opinions to generate further thoughts and discussions with you. And, I try to do that in a respectful way.

Now, I know that some of the statements offered from the Thought Dock is offensive to some of the readers of this blog. But, that is OK, because it is my blog. However, my statements are intentionally seldom directed at any specific reader, but that seems to not be true with some of the comments left by some of my readers. And THAT is the point of this.

Contrary to what you might think, this blog has a world-wide audience, which I call readers. And it is my goal to expand that readership even further by promoting discussion on subjects that I get versed on by the Thought Dock. Now a certain portion of the readers of this blog, I call Followers, because they return to this blog very often seeking my wisdom.

Here's my point. As I've said before, I am the only Author of this blog, so I am the only person that can present the subject matter in the posting. You are a reader, or in some cases, a Follower. You can only add a comment to the post, and I have the ability to moderate (that means allow or disallow) your comment. Now, to date, I have never prevented a comment from being made. But, that might change.

So, here are some new rules regarding comments. Feel free to express yourself, even if in rebuttal to my view, or that of a commenter. Do to the vast amount of predators on the Internet, make your comments in general. Do not use last names or other specific information that a predator might enjoy. I welcome general comments, but I'll moderate any offensive comment directed specifically at either me, or a commenter. No name calling directed specifically at me or any other reader; however, you may use general labels like liberal, puke, or wetback. If you have something personally offensive for me or a reader, I suggest you use an e-mail, telephone, or a visit to the Thought Dock. But be prepared and in tune when you come.

I hate to be the meanie, but it is a matter of self preservation. As some of you have experienced personally, remarks and actions seem to come back and haunt you later in life. And since my ultimate goal in retirement is to host a syndicated, global, talk show promoting the wisdom of the Thought Dock, I must be able to insure order now.

I know you must be shocked learning about my ambitions, but it is easily within my grasp. Nothing will stop my pursuit. I am powered by the Thought Dock.
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He Slipped

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You might ask, "Who slipped?" America's President slipped.

You might ask, "On a banana?" No, in the polls. Barack Obama's popularity has slipped.

You might then ask, "Why is that?" Because people are beginning to check themselves. They are inflating their tires, and tuning their engines, so to say. The wisdom of the Thought Dock is reaching out all over this land, just like PP&M's hammer song did.

People are beginning to see that his pledge to lower taxes, really meant creating new taxes for most of us. And that taxing the coal fired electric plants for a greener world actually meant the increased taxes will only be passed on to us in increased utility prices. And the People realize now that he supports amnesty for everyone; no questions asked. And they watch as he shakes hands and makes promises with America's greatest enemy, Russia. And the People see him make pledges to help the African countries, where his father was raised, emerge from corruption and into "First World" nations. And the people watch as his appointed Attorney General Holden promises to send our CIA guys to trial for torturing those innocent terrorists.

And the list goes on; and the People are beginning to see. And the People will someday blackball him. Oops! Poor choice of words, I see. Perhaps I should have said soccer-ball him. Isn't it a mix of both black and white colors? That would have been a more appropriate use of words, I guess.

I know that was some harsh things to hear. Especially after only getting the no stress stories about S'Mores and camp out fires. So, I'll save the rest for another time. Keep in tune while I'm at the Thought Dock.

PS.. This just came in from one of my most in-tune and avid Followers.

Ok, I'll admit it

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This might be news to most of you, but I'll admit I'm not perfect, and I don't know everything as some of you have pointed out.

I know it's hard to believe, but I did buy Cinamon Graham Crackers to make S'Mores for my grand children. And I did wash off the awning of my Wheeled Manor right in my camp out site. And, I didn't wear my seatbelt while driving in the park, and I burped and farted at least once without excusing myself afterwards. Feel better now?

So, when I unfurled the awning of the Wheeled Manor, I noticed some dirt and signs of mold on the canvass. Using a concoction of dish soap and bleach, I began cleaning it with a long handled brush and a water hose when another camp outer walked by.

The guy informed me that washing the Manor in the camp out site was improper because the suds from my concoction would leach into the soil and endanger the ecology. I gave him the "eye roll," and wished him a very nice day. He scampered off, toward the Ranger's office, where I thouht he would tell on me.

Oregon seems to be full of these pukes. Dressed in their 18-pocket shorts, and a 35 pocket vests, a canvass hat, and sandals much like Moses wore, with binoculars hanging around their necks, they wander around looking to tell on others who don't use the world as the see fit. They camp out in tents strapped to the roof of their Prius, boil the camp out site water over their open camp out fire to ensure it is sterile, while they blow their flutes to Peter, Paul, and Mary tunes. They snip their nose a the Wheeled Manors, wondering just how much fuel they guzzle. They hammer railroad spikes into trees that kill the loggers trying to harvest them. The block the harbors with their un-motorized boats to stop the salmon and crab fishermen. On and on...

Haven't they ever peed behind a tree? Where do their pee suds go? Don't they live in houses built from trees, or haven't they ever eaten fish? Sure they do, but they'll never admit it. They don't always ride bicycles and eat food from their gardens, you know. They have to go outside the box at some point. Perhaps only in the dark of night though.

Now, I'm sure some of you are offended because I assumed this fellow was one of those ecology pukes, or that I'm down on thigs like global warming and energy conservation. Well, puke you too!

I'm going to pee off the Thought Dock right now.
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The Art of a Fire

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John builds the perfect campfire. Starting with a ball of newspaper, he then carefully places sticks of Cedar, and progressively adds larger and larger splits of pine. One match and Whaa Laa!!

Now, I just pile some splits, squirt them with charcoal lighter, and seem to get the same Whaa Laa! But I never got to have a fire of my own on this camp out. I was just beginning to get one going in my site, but John, apparently smelled the lighter fluid I was about to open, rushed over and built my fire his way. Oh well, it's all good.

Then, we were all circled around John's fire one night when Doug said, "You know, without friction, a fire can not burn." I had never heard that, and it made no sense to me, so I asked him to explain more. But he just told me to figure it out myself, and insisted he was right. And maybe he is.

Well, thinking back to my science days, I remembered that to have fire, you needed a fuel source, heat, and oxygen. I couldn't remember friction being a part of that. Now, I know that friction can cause a fire because it creates heat. Like on Survivor, they rub sticks together and the friction creates heat, or they strike steel against flint which makes friction which makes heat. But I don't think that friction is required to make or sustain a fire. One could use a magnifying glass to focus the sun's rays to make heat and start a fire. Or sometimes spontaneous combustion of oily rags start a fire. So where is the friction there?

I'm sure there is a Follower out there that has some chemistry background that can clarify this issue. What say you?
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S'Mores A'More

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We all camped out. It was kind of like being in my own back yard, and was only about five miles down the road. There was a lake, sand dunes, a dock, and a beach not so far away. Close enough even to receive vibes from the Thought Dock. We took the Manor on Wheels there and my wife got up early every day and went to work right from the camp out. But it was nice to get away and socialize.


My brudda and his wife, Kathy, and their grand daughter Katlyn (5), and their grandson Austin (3), and their dog Sidney(4), and their daughter Nancy (25), and her dog Kobe (3), and her boyfriend Brad, and everyones friend Elma (93), and their other friend John, and his wife Tanya, and their dog Princess(1), and their son David (10), and their daughter Sarah(5), and my brudda wife's sister Karen, and her son Rob(18), and his girlfriend Sarah (18), were all there too.


Apparently Kathy was in the Girl Scouts of America and she couldn't wait to show off her scouting skills for her grand children. Now it's been 47 or so years since she learned how to make S'Mores, and to aggravate the situation, I don't think her tires were properly inflated, either then, or when she set out to impress the kids. Remember S'Mores? If you've never had one, or can't recall, they are made from melted chocolate and a marshmallow, squished between two squares of graham crackers. Most everyone I knew loved them, except me (of course you say, because you think I'm weird).


Well, Kathy remembered there was a campfire involved, and we had a good one going. And, she knew there was melted chocolate involved, but the rest must have been really fuzzy to her. She is a very crafty kind of gal though. That said, here is what she did. Keep in mind that I did not actually see this, but that it was reported to me by someone else who was laughing very hard.


Kathy fashioned a cup from tinfoil and put the chocolate bar in it, then placed them on the grill next to the burning fire, which melted the chocolate. Then she placed a cold marshmallow on a cracker, poured the melted chocolate over it, then covered it all with the second cracker. And Shaa Zaam!! There it was. The hybrid S'More!


The kids were impressed and sucked them down as quick as she could make them. But those of us that were properly tuned, had to laugh. And that we did. For my Followers that don't know, you make S'Mores by placing an un-melted piece of chocolate on a graham cracker, then place a well toasted marshmallow from the campfire on the chocolate and cover it all with a second cracker, and squish it almost flat, which turns it into a gooey mess of melted chocolate and marshmallow that dripped all over as you tried to eat it. The toasting of the marshmallow over the open fire seemed to be the fun part, yet some how Kathy forgot that part.


Oh well, she was a good sport about it. By the end of our camp out, she had the proper procedure down pat, and I'm sure she will never forget it.
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Keeping Up On The Maintenance

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I've stressed it all of my life: Keep things in tune.

Imagine trying to drive a curvy mountain road with your right rear tire nealy flat. You're asking for trouble (my daugher drove for a week on a flat before she asked me to check her steering).

So it goes while visiting me at the Thought Dock. If you are unprepared for your lesson, or are not quite in tune, you will leave confused, or will leave a senseless comment because you've mis-understood my wisdom.

I felt the vibes calling from the Thought Dock during my absence and I suspected something was wrong. And now I see what it is, and blogging about my wonderful camp out will have to wait until I address this situation.

Seems a few of you missed the entire point of the post, "What would you like with your steak, Dear?" And, you seem to think that I mis-judged my observations about the lady pushing the shopping cart with a child through the deli area while planning dinner.

First of all, it takes years of both professional training and personal experience to acureately assess an observation. In addition, one must be in tune, which some of you are not. Now maybe, if my right rear tire was flat, or if my engine was missing, I might have seen things differently, as you did. Maybe, I woukd have thought the two were sisters, or that the grandmother was sitting in the cart, not pushing it. Or perhaps, the pusher was the daughter taking care of her mom. But, I am in tune. My tires are at the proper pressures, and I judged situation fairly.

But, none of that was the point of the post. The point was actually commenting on how things have changed over the years for children. No mention was made about whether kids are spoiled today, or have it easier, or dictating what they have for dinner is wrong. It was just a comment, and it reminded me to sing "What a Wonderful World."

It's a shame that I can't make this first post about our camp out, but I knew this would happen. That's why I gave you all a list of things to do to keep your minds in tune. Obviously some of you slacked a bit.

So, please take the time to check your pressures and such, and be prepared to absorb the wisdom of the Thought Dock with your next visit. Whew..........
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Getting By Without Me

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You're going to get another break from me whether you like it or not. I suspect that the few of you that got hammered in the recent days are in a full retreat anyway. They'll welcome the break while I recreate, but it won't be long before they will be sending e-mails and such, asking me for more. I apologize to the rest of you for my absence, but you are the strong ones and will survive for a bit without my wisdom.

Tomorrow, my brudda, from the Central Oregon Valley, and his family, and his friends (which are also my friends), are coming to the Central Oregon Coast to camp out for a week or so. I'll join them to share my wisdom while stoking the camp fire fed by my locally harvested pine trees.

Now, for those of you that can't be with us, here is what I want you to do. It will help you quench your thirst for wisdom while I'm away from the Thought Dock.

Never, not even for one second on this Fourth of July, think about anything else but America. The United States of America. About how it came to be. About how it was created to serve God. About how it was founded based upon His laws. About those that struggled so hard to declare our Independence from oppression. And for those that have given their lives to protect those hard earned freedoms.

Sing, hum, play, all those songs. But remember the words as well. God bless America. This Land is your Land. Glory, Glory, Hallelujah. America the Beautiful. The Star Spangled Banner. And all the rest. You know them, but we just don't listen to them enough these days and we tend to forget.

Remember our past heroes, but never forget the traitors, for our history tells our future. We have many more heroes and traitors working today. Trouble is, they well disguised and hard to recognize. Listen not so much to what they say, but watch what they do. You'll learn to identify them with practice.

Be a Patriot. Waive the Flag. Watch the fireworks. Picture the Statue of Liberty. And, be proud to be an American. Enjoy and be safe on this July 4Th. weekend. I'll be back in about a week!
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What Would You Like With Your Steak Tonight, Dear?

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You know, I had a really wonderful childhood. At least for the 16 and only years I lived at home. I probably lived in at least 15 different communities, in 5 or 6 states, and three different countries, on two continents. Wouldn't have had it any other way.

But growing up is different now. Last night, while I was looking for the best value in pre-cooked meals at the grocery store deli, I noticed a lady in her late sixties, pushing a cart full of groceries, with about a 3-year old strapped in the seat. I presumed the adult was the grand mother of the child of her methhead child. It seems to be very prevalent around here to see people raising their children's children for what ever reason.

Granny asked the kid, "What would you like with your steak tonight, Dear?" Holy crap! Since when are 3 year olds competent enough to make a decision like that. But then, after seeing the T-bones in the cart, I thought maybe the kid selected them too.

Thinking back, I can't ever remember even eating a steak while I lived at home, unless you count a pot roast as steak. And I don't think my children had steak more than a half dozen times in my house, unless you count skirt steaks (actually they were pretty tasty). My kids were lucky to be able to chose the flavor of the Kool Aid we'd buy for them!

And then, during my first introduction to our most recent grand daughter last week, her father showed off a closet he built special for Isabella. Holy crap! The child, less than 3 weeks old, had a wardrobe larger the the entire amount of clothes my children owned through high school.

I could go on and on. The toys, activities, computers, cars, electronics, etc., are now so more available than ever before.

Isn't it great? So great that listening to Louis Armstrong sing, "What a Wonderful World" brings tears to my eyes.
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I don't Think So.

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It seems some of my Followers are beginning to lash out at me. And that's what happens when one sees they are losing ground in the wisdom generated from the Thought Dock. Just this week, I've been labeled as a bigot, being arrogant, accused of blasphemy, and asked whether I've lost my mind. That's typical for the liberals of the world who demand that we listen to them, but refuse to hear any view that differs from theirs. They cry foul and whine about how prejudice everyone else is. They'll turn off the show because they can't stand to hear the truth, but you know what, they always come back for more.

Call me what you want, but think about your actions as well. Am I a bigot because I chose to live around people that share the same values that I have? I don't think so.

Words like deaf, dumb, fat, plum, bum, and vagrant were around a lot longer than I know, and are still acceptable terms. You say they are hurtfull to use, but you call me "Big Balls?" Something is wrong with that picture. They were not offensive words. They just became obsolete when the kinder way came. So, if I use them, I'm using blasphemy? I don't think so. Call yourself hurtfull first.

I believe that you are not entitled to what you don't earn. So is that arrogance? I don't think so. Now stating that you look better in uniform than anyone else before you, is arrogant. Smiling and waving at everyone as you patrol that sleepy town will likely keep you safe until there is an encounter with an escapee from the nearby State prison. I pray that will never happen.

I've never hurled insults at anyone because of their color, size, prominence, or lack of. I've only made remarks about those that refuse to earn their way and I'll stand by that. Now, I find it a privilege to help those that can not help themselves. The sick, ill, elderly, the ones that justifiably can't work, and the ones that have paid the price to society. And to them, I am generous.

That bum with the fisherman's outfit is such an example of my intolerance. Has he ever helped anyone? I don't think so. Considering the free time he has by not working, he could be volunteering somewhere to give back a little of what he has taken. He won't even pick up after himself after sitting and eating the fast food that someone gave him.

So, take a stand for what you believe. Do what you say. Don't cry when you lose, but get up and try it again. Don't rejoice when you win, but go on to do it again. One's title alone will not win the battles.

Call me names if it makes you feel better, but ask yourself what you should be called. Don't try to figure me out. Just come to peace with yourself. Cry if you need. Tune me out if you can. Bury your head to the truths. But, I'll be there for your needs. So, there will be more of me to come. More ways to stimulate your mind from the Thought Dock.
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Hey Skipper

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Oregon requires all boat operators to complete a Boater's Safety Course before they can legally skipper a boat. It's a good program, I think.

So, last evening, my niece from the Central Oregon Valley announced that she had passed the course. My first thoughts were: Boats were meant to be operated by real men, and she doesn't even have a boat to pilot. But then, I guess in case of an emergency on the water, or an overdose of wine, she could skipper her father's boat, or maybe even mine for that matter.

Although it would be unlikely that she'll ever be needed to operate a boat, the fact that she is certified, could be a valuable credential to add to her portfolio in her quest to attract a husband. It's a beginning I know, but hopefully she could learn to cook, clean, pull a cork from the wine bottle, and add those skills to her basket as well.

And, maybe then she'll find that husband.
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Kinder Ways

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Remember these? Beatnik - Hobo - Bum - Vagrant - Pan Handler - Derelict - Transient - Vagabond - Gypsy - Hermit - Mooch - Drone - Parasite - Squatter - Freeloader - Stowaway - Beggar - Carpetbagger - Street Urchin.

Isn't the English language wonderful? All of these terms, and many more I'm sure, are now obsolete and have been replaced by the term "Homeless Person." Are we just trying to be a kinder and gentler society by not offending these maggots of society, or are we just afraid to call them what they are?

And we have "Little People, Hearing, Speaking, Sight, Height, Weight , Skeleton, Age, Mental, Skin disability" classes. What ever happened to using words like "Dwarf, Midget, Deaf, Dumb, Blind, Tall, Fat, Gimp, Senior, Retarded, or Pimpled Faced" to describe peoples physical attributes. I fit into several of these categories myself and I'm not opposed to someone calling me a fat old man. Call it as you see it. Makes it a lot easier to get your point across.

And that is my point from the Thought Dock. I'm sure you have yours.
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Tripping Back

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After three days of spinning in the valley, and likely pissing off as many people as we made happy, we loaded ourselves into the wheeled manor and headed home. Isabella (the newborn that was the focus of our visit) cried when we had to leave.

Twenty five miles uphill to the top of the Tejon Pass via the Grapevine, and then dropping at nearly twice the rate we climbed, lead us right by my sista's house. And then 300 miles of mostly flat, mostly level, and mostly windy terrain. Passing signs reading, "Congress Created Dustbowl" marking areas that once were farmlands.

I think the last time we drove this route was when that drunken idiot driving his Porsche slammed into our rear at over 100mph, nearly killing us. Too bad he survived, I thought.

The Sacramento Delta's rice fields were flooded reminding me of the soldiers lost wading through the ones in Vietnam. Seemed odd that the farmlands we just passed though were dry, but we are still growing lots of rice.

A night's rest and back at it again. Past Redding. Everything is getting greener. Up and up again, Shasta Lake, oh so pretty. Then down, down, and down. A left turn, past the elk reserves, and taa taah! The coast. A right turn on the left coast. A few more miles.

And then I saw him. Holy Crap! It was that bum in the fisherman's outfit that I met a few weeks ago. He was heading south from Old Town. Could it be? Could he be the hero I searched all over for this past week? He had a gimmick. An outfit just like all heroes had. Superman, Batman, Mighty Mouse all had outfits.

No, not my hero. This bum has never contributed to society, but has only been a leech. No, if I had a hero, he would be someone like Ollie North, not this pile of crap.

Well, aap, I guess I really don't have a hero, nor do I see much good left in this world. All I can do is try to be good and do what I can to keep the world from eroding even further. And I pray that my grandchildren will be able to enjoy the life I have, and sit with me at the Thought Dock before it all dries up.
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Keep Things Spinning

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Spinning is the best way to maintain balance and direction. And having balance and direction is always the best way to be fair. But as a gyroscope or toy top's spin slows, so it begins to wobble and lose direction.

So it goes when you have only 3 full days to visit everyone that you would like to, without offending those that don't get the pleasure of your presence. I think you've all been there a time or two and know what I mean.

Our primary reason for the trip was to meet our new grand daughter, so everything else was scheduled around that. Even that didn't go so well. At only three weeks old, she was crying while anticipating our arrival, and cried when we had to leave each day. But what a joy she was when we were there. So beautiful and innocent. Truly an example of God's love.

Now, we had the wheeled manor filled with the 5 critters, and the grand daughter demanding that we stay in her neighborhood. But, at the same time, the mother-in-law insisting we travel another hour to stay with her. Nana won and that we did. The manor was parked and plugged in at the storage area, while we slept on the floor at her house. Pleased her, but rough on my back.

Time never slowed, but our spin did as we tried to visit as many as possible. A few hours with my sister in laws, then 20 minutes with an old neighbor, and an hour or so with a good friend. With every visit the spin slowed as no one could understand the reason for such short visits. I felt the wobble setting in.

No time to visit my daughter 60 miles north. No time for my sista and her daughters only a few miles off the path on the way home. Never a time left for an afternoon nap, dinner out, or shopping. Not even time to make a good look for a hero. It's likely that we hurt more people with no visits, or short visits, than we pleased with our presence. To those that I hurt, I know that you won't understand, but I ask for your forgiveness.

It was a wonderful time, though way too short. So, as the wobble set deeper, but before we capsized, we headed home to the safety of the Thought Dock.
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Tripping South

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One of my avid Followers commented to a previous post not long ago, asking whether I saw any good in this world, and whether I ever had a hero. So, I kept a sharp eye during our road trip south and deeper into this Land of Honalee.

One hundred miles, then two, along the coast, taking my time, all the time, but staying on time. No Jackie Paper, or the Magic Puff could I find. Winding roads, but without toads. Gorgeous ocean views, lots of elk and deer, and a few smaller critters of unknown species that didn't quite make it across the road.

Then turned east and through the Redwood Forrest. How enchanting it was. 12 foot wide at the base, and hundreds of feet tall. The trunk, encroaching to within a few inches of the edge of the 2-lane road, bore signs of several car accidents. I wondered how many travellers would have to die before they will remove the tree, but the ecologists disagree.

Then, into the majestic wine country of the Napa Valley. Drink to that. Raise the price of grapes so that no one can afford to buy a home because the vineyards are worth their weight in gold. Now three hundred, then four hundred miles, and into the Interstate 5 corridor.

Stretching yet another 300 miles south from the Sacramento delta, to the base of the Tehachapi mountains, where once great farms sprawled as far as the eyes could see. Given way to oil derricks now rusting after having gone dry, because the ecologist hammered out the dangers of nuclear reactors. That's OK, we'll just buy our oil from our friends in Iran. But our friends in Iran changed once the reactors were dismantled. Oil is now 20 times more expensive than it was when I attended high school.

The fields in the valley are all by dry now as the waters have been diverted to quench the thirst of Southern California. Why not? We can buy all our produce from South America anyway. What a concept! Maybe all the illegal migrant farm workers will re-migrate home to their own fields.

Nearly gone are the huge cattle ranches. Driven away by ecologists demanding that cows be happy and have shade before they are sent to slaughter for food. Driven away to other states and countries while driving the price of burgers up. No mas Dollar Menu.

Now, up and over. The final 150 and to the Valley. We arrived safely, but unable to chant the tunes of "This Land is My Land. This Land is Your Land. From the ........"

And, I still can't find that darn dragon.
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And that was Yesterday; and Yesterday is Gone..

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Goodbye Michael..

Goodbye Farrah..

Like Anna Nicole Smith, John Lennon, Elvis Presley, John Kennedy, Princess Di, and everyone in between, you once were, but are no more.

You are gone and I really don't care how or why you died. Anal cancer, drug overdose, an assassin's bullet, old age, or an accident; it makes no difference to me.

I'll remember you for what you were, but I'll not join the media blitz of speculation as to how you came to pass, who will raise your children, or who will lay claim to your fortunes. Because, I know that it will all work out. Someone will care for the kids, and someone will spend your money, and someone will stand trial if you were murdered.

Well. I'm back!! Are you thirsty? I'll feed your body and quench your thirst, but first I have to rest up a bit from the reality of a SoCal visit. So, let me know what you want. I'm just here for you. Want humor? Want to see pictures and hear about my family? Want politics? Want more about me? Want my philosophy? I can stimulate your mind in so many ways. You tell me. But, keep in mind that what you might want, might not be what I think is best for you. And how many of you fell for that invitation to visit the Love Porch? Bet that was fun.. Ho! Ho! Ho! Let's learn about scrap booking while we sing along with PP&M to Puff the.......

I'm heading to the Thought Dock.

You're Gonna Miss This..

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By the time most of you read this, you've missed the train I'm on, and you'll know that I am gone. I'll be 500 miles away from home. No, I'm not really taking the train, but I will be gone, and will be about half way to my vacation destination.

Although I will have this communicator with me, I don't know whether I will be able to establish a link to the great Internet in the sky. So, I might not be able to satisfy your thirst for Thought as often as you need.

But it seems that I have filled your brains with enough mind boggling crap, with spin on it, to keep you thinking on your own for the next week or so while I'm gone. If that is not the case just turn in to Fox News to get back to speed.

But, maybe the lack of recent Thought Comments indicates that I've been too deep with your education and that you are suffering from Thought Dock Burnout Syndrome (TDBS).

I can diagnose TDBS because I created it. But you can too. If you have self diagnosed yourself with TDBS, the antidote is listening to PPM. That's Peter, Paul, and Mary for those of us that really know them. Or is it Peter, Paul, and Mamma? Mamma Obama. That'll mellow you out.

So, relax and smoke your socks. I'll be back in a week or so to get you back on track from the Thought Dock.
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OK, Let's All Line Up

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I'm sure you've seen those videos of China and North Korea. You know, the ones where everyone is dressed the same? The ones where the school children are marching in mass to their next class? The ones where a whole sports stadium is acting in unison, flashing paper plates while singing some sort of national song. The ones where the soldiers march in the streets like little Hitlers while clinging to their 1960 era weapons.

I'm sure some of you think that is quite incredible. Is that what you really want for America? But, China and North Korea are communist countries, you say. Well, socialism is but a small click away from communism.

Our President is now controlling our banks, car manufacturers, and moving in for the greatest prize, health care. Soon it will be the schools and universities. He has all ready proclaimed that he is the only one that can save America from doom.

So. let's all line up to see a doctor, line up at the bank and line up to buy the car he thinks you should buy. Get in line at school and at college. There, they will have a special long line for the White Americans.

He says he knows it all, because he was raised by a Muslim father, and had the struggles of being a half-breed. He knows how to shake hands with our Muslim terrorist enemies. He knows all about health care because of his mother's death because of her inability to afford the best treatment. So, why didn't he help her pay for a good doctor rather than give fault to Medicare?

If Barrack Hussein Obummer continues on his path, he will soon rule with an iron fist as he proclaims himself as the Messiah. It's all in the Book.

Think about it folks. Very scary.

The Great Sugar Daddy

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Some one very dear to me watched a local news clip today about workers also losing their health insurance when they get laid off. It was asked, "Why can't there be sort of a slush fund held by the insurance companies to allow for continued (free) medical care during these hard times?"

I asked, "So where would this slush fund come from?" I was told that a small part of every one's premiums could be set aside by the insurance companies for the hard times. Yeah, just tax me more (raise my premiums) to support the less fortunate ones.

Holy Crap! The Thought Dock is now in danger of being conquered by the over whelming and ever growing liberal socialists in my very dear family. It seems America is rap­idly approaching the position that most Americans are entitled to be sup­ported by those who work, and pay for their welfare and desires while doing nothing to earn anything (I borrowed this sentence from another published article).

I need that cannon now more than ever, or at least a 50 caliber gattling gun. I'll hold them off as long as I can. Never Surrender!!
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Pass the Candy, Please

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I don't know anyone who doesn't like candy. My absolute favorite is See's Dark Chocolates. I always choose a box of them when ever the opportunity presents itself, and they never go to waste.

Think about an assorted box of chocolates or nuts for a moment. The candies look similar on the outside, but they are drastically different inside. It's natural for all of us to have personal preferences, whether it is for the taste of chocolates or nuts, what neighborhood you live in, who you're friends are, or the music you like. There is certainly plenty of choices.

Now, I'm sure that at some time, someone has passed a box of those assorted chocolates to you, and you realized someone else has all ready selected your favorite. And sometimes, someone has actually taken a bite from one or two, then put them back after realizing they didn't like them. Ever get passed that tray of mixed nuts only to find that all the cashews are missing?

"How disgusting." You've chastised you kids putting back that candy after tasting it. Maybe you even forced the child to eat it anyway. Maybe you've even forced yourself to eat a nasty one just to be polite. I've been there myself a time or two. "Such a waste," you might say when you find the bitten ones that no one else will eat because they know those taste like crap. That's what happens when you believe every piece of candy in that assorted box has the same great taste. Now, that's being foolish. I think it's only natural to spit something out you don't like and try something else.

Well, I don't buy into the assorted theory (socialism) anymore. I only eat what I like, live where I like, and choose friends that I have something in common with. And there is nothing wrong with that. It's not to say that I won't go out on the limb to taste something new, or meet new people. But, after I try it and find I don't like it, I don't keep on forcing things to work. If you fix me dinner, and I don't like it (actually that seldom happens), I won't eat it just to be nice. I'm not a bigot, but I know what I like and what I don't.

Our government has made us all into a box of assorted cholcolates. They tell us everyone is all the same, neighborhoods are the same, and that we should all be able to adapt to one another, for the greater cause. In a sense, one would agree that we all look kind of the same, speak similar, dress the same, and share the same dreams. But inside, we all know that is not true. We are all different. Not necessarily better, but just different. Now if you admit that, the liberals call you a bigot.

Employers are forced to draw blindly from the box because the government tells them that everyone in the box is the same. But they are not. They are individuals and each have their own strengths. And if you peek into the box before selecting, they call that discrimination. Or, after making your selection and finding out first hand the person was unqualified, and terminate him, you get sued.

If you select a neighborhood to live in because most of the residents are like you, or share your values, the socialists call you a bigot. They encourage you to voluntary desegregate and integrate into a new neighborhood. They actually give cash incentives to those that do. And they bus the children of proud parents who built top notch schools, into areas where even the locals won't stay. They insist that makes things equal.

Well come to the Thought Dock and share a chocolate with me. Now, you won't have much of a choice because all I have here are dark chocolates. Don't fret. It's Ok with me if you spit one out, but next time bring your own. I'll try one of yours, but I will spit it out, if I don't like it.
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I've Sat The Bench With Some Of The Best

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In Those Days, not everyone always got to play in the game, because games were meant to be won, and the coach always played their best. And often, I didn't get to play. Actually, in the early days, I really sucked, and hardly ever played at all. But, every once in a while, the coach would put me in when we were ahead 22-2 in the last inning, although he told me not to swing because he said I'd just strike out. One time, I thought I'd prove him wrong and swing. He was right. I struck out.

I used to cry in private after those games, just wishing that I could be not as good as the best kids, but just good enough to play. I worked harder and practiced more, and as I matured, I got better. Better enough to play first string at most any sport I tried.

And then it happened. Youth sports became socialism. Rules were created mandating that every one had to play. Some leagues didn't even keep score during the game for fear of demoralizing the losing players. But what about the players that would have won? No, "Hip, hip, hoorays" allowed. Player were only allowed to shake hands and say, "Good game" to their rivals. Everyone got the identical trophy at the end of the season, no matter how they played.

And it goes beyond sports today. Most every school student elevates to the next grade level regardless of his performance, because it is too embarrassing for them to be held back a grade. It's all about giving praise and treating everyone equal.

And it's into parenting. We're all into this socialism crap so deep that we can't even see what it is. Many parents and grandparents (sometimes even me) treat the kids equally no matter what. They each get the same dollar value for gifts without consideration of the the age or need of the kid. They are often given the same weekly allowance regardless of their behavior, or how well they did their chores. The kids are seldom held accountable for their bad decisions.

Well, things don't seem to be working. While there are lots of hugs and praise going on, kids suffering from low self esteem, now more than ever, go to campus and kill their classmates and teachers. Some kill their parents, and many just kill themselves.

Should we be giving more trophies and hugs, or have we been going off in the wrong direction for the last two decades?

You decide. I'll be at the Thought Dock.
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Making The Grade

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A Follower in Texas sent me this and I thought I'd pass it on. I did shorten it up a bit, hopefully without distorting the message.

An economics class at Texas Tech told their professor that they believed socialism works because it ensures that no one would be rich and no one would be poor. The professor, as an experiment, applied socialism to his teaching method to show the class the effects of socialism.

The professor then told the class that all grades would be averaged and everyone would receive the same grade. No one would fail and no one would receive an A.

The grades from the first test were averaged and everyone got a B. The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy.
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On the second test, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too; so they studied little. The second test average was a D! No one was happy.

The 3rd test average was an F. All failed, to their great surprise. The professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great; but when reward is taken away; no one will try or want to succeed. Could not be any simpler than that.
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Well, maybe there is more to Texas than beautiful women, country music, Nascar, and bow legged cowboys!
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Blowing In The Wind

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Can someone help a brudda out? These questions have troubled me for most of my life. They might have simple answers, perhaps too simple for my mind.

So, why does a carton of orange juice cost less than the bag of oranges needed to make it yourself? And why is canned corn cheaper than the four ears it takes to fill it?

Why do wood chips and sawdust cost more by weight compared to a nice straight two by four? Aren't the chips just waste from processing the board?

Or, how can a huge public bus bellowing a plume of black smoke to carry it's 36 passengers be greener than 6 smaller cars carrying six passengers each? Or, how can a gigantic diesel locomotive pulling a few commuter cars with 50 passengers each be efficient?

Why does deisel cost more than premium gasoline when it is easier to refine?

And, would the headlights from a plane travelling at the speed of light illuminate another plane in front of it that was also travelling at the speed of light?

For me, the answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind.
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Peter, Paul, Mary,and Tied Dyed Clothing

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I always thought the Kennedy's states on the Right Coast were liberal, second only to San Francisco. But I think this beach is right in there with them.

Oregon has it's very own PBS Station and last week aired four full hours of Peter, Paul, and Mary. I never realized they had sung so many songs. You probably have heard them all, and likely liked most of them, but I was never their fan. They are at the top of the liberal list, and this State loves them.

This Land of Honolee loves President Obummer. He was an overwhelming favorite by an incredible 87%. We have Martin Luther King Boulevards everywhere even though we have only a 1% Black population. And we celebrated Rosa Parks and Cesar Chavez' birthdays.

Few here drive foreign cars, wear make up, brush their teeth, or shave. A saying here is that the police have difficulty identifying corpses due to the lack of dental records. Many of the 65 and older crowd are stuck in '65 and still smoke dope, and wear tied dyed clothing of all sorts. Folk music seems to prevail, with Country a distant second. Weekend street fairs are eveywhere selling home made jewelry, musical instruments, home raised veggies, and Quail eggs.

One of the biggest funerals ever in Eugene occurred when a homeless person died in his sleep on a chilly night a few months ago. And at a town hall meeting that I attended last month, most people seemed to favor additional funding of homeless shelters over funding the jail system.

And during the construction of our home, twice a heavy equipment operator stopped his $350hr excavator to rescue a lizard from the shovel and hand carry him to the safety of the lake.

Finally, with tonight's local news, I learned that this State does not believe a human life begins until the newborn takes it's first breath. Therefore, the lady that lured a pregnant woman to her home through Craigslist, killed her, then cut her unborn child from her womb to keep it for herself, only to have both mother and child die, can not be tried for the double murder.

Where have all the flowers gone? So far, I am safe at the Thought Dock. But if any of you know where I can get a used cannon from Army surplus, I'd surely be interested. I have just the place for it.
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A Different Beach

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People here are mostly retired. The population has stayed about 10k for the last ten years, and I don't think it will grow much in the next ten. There is little work here, and most of those that do work are in the service fields.

The are few youth (111 graduating high school this year), and jobs for them are nill. Most of them just move to another city where the salaries and opportunities are better when they finish school, leaving behind the Golden Aged ones. On the weekends and through the summer, the young people return in droves to play at the beach, ride the dunes in buggies, and to fish the many lakes and rivers. I like that.

I've hung with the older crowd throughout my life. But here, most of our friends are much older than us, not by just a few years, but some by decades. And that takes a bit getting used to.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love this place and the friends that we have made. But rather than conversations about work and play, our social conversations now seem to be centered on the financial or medical issues facing us. I know, that's actually good for me as it will help to prepare us for the inevitable, but it is different for me.

It is tough sometimes to deal with those issues all the time. Just since we moved here, two neighbors, and a good friend have passed away. That's something that I'm not accustomed to. I know that as I age further, it will become more and more frequent though.

This place is a lifestyle change for us. I'm now more patient while waiting for the food to be served promptly or correctly while dining out. My driving has become even more defensive now with so many older persons on the street. Well, at least I never hear the other driver's ghetto blaster wailing out some rap music.

My blood pressure is normal now, anf I'm a lot fatter. Naps are getting common, but I laugh a bit more. Even the Thought Dock is so very different, but that's what really keeps me going.
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Don't Tread On Me

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You know? I've really changed after having been an enforcer for 33 years. Here is my new attitude.

I really don't care what you do as long as you are old enough to make a conscience decision, and what you do doesn't affect me. So, if you are capable of making a decision, do what you want, but don't bother me.

You see, I no longer care if you drink yourself to sleep every night, or if you load up on dope. I don't care if you won't wear a seatbelt or a helmet, jump from a cliff tethered by a rubber band, or just jump to your death. I don't care if you are Gay, or wear tie dyed T-shirts, or if you beg on the streets; just don't rub these things in my face. If you worship Buddah, or are a Muslim, that's OK, but just don't push your crap on me.

Now, as a Christian, If I'm in a position to help with your vices, I will. But if I can't get through to you, I'll let go. My life will go on, but yours might not, and I won't care. It's your choice.

I wouldn't care if the government made dope free. Just pile it out on the corner, and let the fools come and get it. That would quickly sove the dope problem because all those fools would soon die. And we'd be better off.

We don't need laws to force people from doing their thing, in their own house. We don't need to tax cigarettes and liquor, or use those taxes to save those same idiots. We only need laws to keep those idiots away from those of us that live respectfully. We only need laws to protect us from the idiots and creeps, like Speeding, DUI, Robbery, and such.

I've come to realize all this because I have found myself at the Thought Dock. All alone, away from all of those creeps doing their thing. All alone and finally at peace.
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Well - Since You Asked

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Thank you all for participating in last week's discussions and posting your vote in the poll. Actually, the results of the poll were not quite what I thought they would be. Did any of you change your mind as the postings and comments progressed? It was a really debatable subject and many views were discussed.

OK, since some have asked, and I know you all are wondering, I'll put my personal views on record.

Three decades ago, when Equal Opportunity evolved into Affirmative Action, I was easily convinced that it was the right way to go. It appeared then, that many minorities were not being hired or promoted simply because they were not White. And to me, that had to be discrimination. So, I bought into it all.

Now, after seeing the issue from the employer's point of view as a manager during my last 10 years, I see things quite differently. Any employer wants to hire what he believes to be the best possible employee, because the employee is a critical ingredient to his success. I really don't think the employer really cares whether he hires a Black, Jew, Female, or anything else, as long as he/she is best for the company.

I believe an employer has the absolute right to hire who he wants, without any forced mandates. After all, it is his business, and he should have the right to run it however he pleases. Imagine what would occur if Major League baseball were forced to hire 44% women, or professional basketball was forced to reduce their Black stars to 18% to be more in line with American demographics. Or a landscape company in LA forced to hire Blacks, when many people think Asians make the best gardeners. What about hiring that White cook for a Chinese diner, or for a Louisiana Barbecue? Would you like a doctor to treat your cancer if he/she were not the best, but given the job only because of their color or gender?

Let's face it. We are all not equal. We each have our own individual strengths and weaknesses.
Affirmative Action attempts to make us all equal. Just a bunch of drones. Why have a selection process at all? Why not just a lottery system? Well, that's what AA is and does. And that is socialism.

Have you ever compared the efficiency of a small business, not governed by AA, to most any civil service entity in your area? You can bet your butt, that if my wife and I ever get that small business we've often talked about, we will hire only the best available, even if he/she were a minority.
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And that's my Thought from the Dock.
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Welcome To This World

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Who:..Isabella Sophia G.
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What:..Our Sixth Grandchild-The 3rd Grand Daughter
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Compliments Of:..Michael and Lara G.
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When:..June 03, 2009
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Where:.. Tarzana, California

Well, isn't she beautiful? My wife seems to think she looks like her. Well, then she must be beautiful! Actually, I think she looks like me...But that can't be. But, after I get her to the Thought Dock, she will think just like me! I do see the father's line in her nose, but I see Mom most everywhere else. Look at her hair. So thick and full. No Daddy there!

Truly a gift from God. Congrats Mike and Lara!

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Summin' Things Up - Vote Now

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Well, that was fun. I enjoyed sharing the LAPD stories with you along the subject of Affirmative Action. I also enjoyed your comments! I knew it was a sensitive issue when I began, but honestly, I didn't expect so much discussion from the Followers. I hope you all enjoyed the posts as much as I did. I did try very hard to describe the actual incidents factually, and without a bias or spin, although you all know, I do have bias and spin, and I've got my own opinion that will reflect in the poll. Rest assured, I'll only vote one time like every one else.

In conclusion, I leave you with this last tidbit. Several White New Your City Firefighters have taken their grievances to the Supreme Court. They claim, that although they tested highest on a promotional exam, the City passed them over in favor of Black candidates. Initially, they won their case in State Court, but recently Judge Sonia Sotomayor, reversed that decision. Perhaps some of you know that President Obumer has appointed Sotomayor to the United States Supreme Court and she is awaiting confirmation. The confirmation hearings are what prompted the discussion about Affirmative Action this past week. So, Sotomayor might get to hear the case again if she gets confirmed.

Please review the prior posts and the discussions that followed as comments. I would then like you to take the poll. I know a few of you have all ready voted, but I can't change that. If, you are one that voted prematurely, and after reading the entire week's posts and comments, you want to change your vote, please let me know,and I will find a way to let you do that, even if I have to create a new poll. I am very interested in determining how you guys really feel about the subject.

Thanks to everyone that contributed. I'll give you a break for a while and return to a less serious topic for a bit. While you are waiting for the controversial stuff to reurn, be sure to watch Fox News every moment that you can. Doing so will keep your Bp up while you wait for me.

Just another idea from the Thought Dock..
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Out of Reach

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In 1973, at just under 5ft-9in, I was the shortest police officer to ever be assigned to the now infamous Rampart Division. Although 5-8 was the minimum height then, all the Rampart cops were giants because that was the toughest police precinct in the world. Many times I thought I'd never survive the fight while I wished I was 2 feet taller.

In about 1978, after transferring to a slower division, I met Tina. She had just graduated from the academy and was assigned to work with my old partner, Tim. Some of you have met him, although not by that name.

Well, Affirmative Action had been in place for several years by then. And unknown to me, they had reduced the height/weight requirement for hiring. Tina was a very cute and personable person, but I don't think she was five feet tall or even weighed 90 pounds. She was the tinyist police officer I had ever seen. As a side note, I realized that she could not reach the officer's message clip board, and there was a note hanging there for her. So, being the helpful person that I am, I attached a long string leading downward from the note with a sign attached to the end reading, "Pull here to remove." Got chewed out for that one.

Tina forced change to the LAPD. Due to her petite size, she would move the seat in the police car all the way forward in order to reach the pedals. That would cause Tim to ride shotgun with his knees against his chest. Tom asked for help and the LAPD purchased it's first police cruiser with bucket seats. From that day forward, we had bucket seats.

One night Tim and Tina encountered an obnoxious homeless wino in an alley. He was just the typical wino type, usually drunk, but harmless. Tim had dealt with him before many times. But this time, the wino went berserk and attacked Tim, knocking him to the ground. The wino pinned Tim on his back and beat him repeatedly. Tina, tried to pull him off, but couldn't. She called for assistance, then began hitting the wino with her baton, to no avail. The wino ripped Tim's gun from his holster and Tim begged him not to shoot. Tina ended the near tragedy with a single gunshot to the wino's head.

It was the first shooting involving a female police officer in LAPD history. Tina was hailed as a hero for saving Tim's life. Tim didn't quite see it that way and was troubled by the killing for the rest of his career. Tim told me as he teared up while drinking a beer, that although the wino was about to shoot him, there was no reason that the incident progressed to that state. He believed that had Tina had sufficient size and strength, the wino would have never had to die. Tim never returned to working the streets, but Tina went on to achieve new heights in rank with the Department.

As more and more protected classes found their way on the job, more things changed. And I won't say that any of those things were bad. Bucket seats, power steering, and air conditioning were great changed that everyone benefited, although they didn't contribute to the car's safety, or performance during a pursuit, which is what's really important. So were new, separate locker rooms, weight rooms, showers, and toilets for the protected class. But gone were the days of mandating physical fitness and self defence training. Instead, pepper spray, and more powerful guns were issued, as the job got more dangerous. Rodney King resulted not from a bunch of racist cops, but by under trained cops not proficient with their weapons at hand, or their wrestling skills.

What say you? Can we post some blame for the death of that wino, or the beating of Rodney King, on Affirmative Action? Now, don't give up on this subject. There is only one more post related to this series to follow. And don't forget to vote when it's all said and done.
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Entry Level Orals

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The first step toward becoming a police officer in Los Angeles is to pass a written examination. The second was an oral interview, the only portion of the process that the candidate is given a weighted score, as all the other sectors are pass/fail. Next comes a background check, physical ability test, and a mental evaluation, but not necessarily in that order. Once a month for the last 10 years of my career, I sat on the interview board for new police officer candidates.

I chaired a three member interview board for entry level oral interviews once a month during my last 10 years of service. The remaining board members were professional civilians selected from the community.

Now, it used to be that a candidate was ranked for hiring by the score he/she obtained in the oral interview process, highest first, providing they passed the other screening tests. But that changed with Affirmative Action. Since AA, protected classes of candidates can be selected for employment, regardless of their interview score (as long as they achieve a 70% or better), in any order, if the LAPD is still behind on achieving their parity goal. In essence, that means a non-protected class with a higher interview score, may have to wait while protected classes with lower scores are hired. And this concept carried into promotions and specialized assignments as well.

Well even this couldn't provide enough protected class hiring. It was determined that many of the protected class applicants could not pass a background check, the physical ability test, or show adequate work experience. So, LAPD reduced or eliminated these requirements all together. You can now be accepted as an officer if you have a prior history of narcotic use, been involved with gangs, had theft, DUI, and misdemeanor assault convictions. The mental (ink blot) test was eliminated and the physical ability test was lowered so that most anyone that could breathe without a wheezing while walking would qualify. And bonuses were awarded for things like speaking a foreign language, so some candidates that couldn't score a 70 in their interview because they didn't speak English well enough, actually were raised to the qualification level because of the bonus. You no longer have to show a history of applicable work experience, so selling chocolate dipped bananas from your unlicensed food cart in the park, is good enough.

So how does this affect the overall big picture? Your comments are welcome. Still blurry for you. I've given a few real examples with the prior post, but some more will be detailed in the next. Some of you like this crap, others think I'm full of crap. But all this crap provokes Thought from the Dock.
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The Protected Class

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The court actually coined the term "Protected Class" and defined who would be a part of of that category. And the term truly meant "Hands Off" or "King's X" as it pertained disqualifying applicant for hire. The LAPD was ordered to bring their labor force into parity with the LA demographics fast, no matter what. But, it went even deeper. To retain those protected classes that were hired, LAPD did everything they could to promote them, not discipline them, never assign them to less desirable assignments, and keep them happy at all costs.

Before the days of Affirmative Action, in 1976, Officer McCreedy, a White male, would snag a 25-cent newspaper from a lawn on his beat to take with him to the donut shop to read most every morning. When a resident complained, he was fired. It all had to do with what LAPD called a violation of Moral Turpitude. The Moral Turpitude list included, any theft, any sex crime, any lie, no matter how petty, and anything else that embarrassed the City.

In 1998, an officer's boots disappeared from the locker room. Posters were placed in the hall ways of the station, and announcements were read aloud about the missing boots at roll call for several weeks. The facts that the boots had custom soles and the officer's name inside were not released. Several weeks later, the officer recognized footprints from his boots left on a wet sidewalk by a peer, Officer Williamson. Williamson was summoned to the station, but insisted the boots he wore were his. When he was ordered to take the boots off to allow further inspection, he refused. A search warrant was obtained and the boots were removed revealing that they in fact were the stolen boots. Following an investigation, the Captain recommended that Williamson be terminated. However, the Chief reduced that penalty to a written reprimand. Williamson was a "Protected Class" and was retained, despite the still written policy about Moral Turpitude. It was also revealed that Williamson had convictions for theft and marijuana use, prior to his appointment to LAPD. But those, once automatic disqualifiers had been removed when AA began to take hold.

About the same time, Sergeant Smitson, a protected class employee, performed a strip tease routine in a male only tavern while wearing his police uniform. He was terminated, but the court ordered his reinstatement with back pay. Although the LAPD had rules regarding wearing a uniform while off duty, the court ruled that because Smitson didn't wear his pistol during the routine, it was not a uniform. In 2001, Officer Turndale, another protected class employee, posed nude for Playboy wearing only an LAPD uniform shirt and badge. The LAPD didn't even pursue that one.

Your comments.. How do you think these actual incidents affected the quality of law enforcement in Los Angeles? Please keep in mind that the names that have been used in this, and all posts, have been changed to protect the protected.

Tomorrow.. More things from the Thought Dock about what the LAPD did to comply with AA.
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Meeting Court Quotas

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During the late 70's, the LAPD lost several court battles related to the hiring of police officers. Back then there was only the Equal Employment Opportunity law, which was very vague. I'm not certain, but I believe Affirmative Action (AA) came as a result of the LAPD lawsuits.

In essense, the court created AA and stated that when ever two "equally" qualified canditates applied for a single position, weight would be given to the minority candidate. AA applied to gender and minority races, and most everyone supported the logic of AA, including myself.

As the years passed (now over 20), new cases were brought before the court claiming that the LAPD was still not hiring minorities in sufficient numbers. The LAPD argued that there were not enough minorities even applying for a position, and not enough of those that did, could meet backgound, education, and experience requirements; therefore, the LAPD could not comply.

The court responded by further defining and expanding the "protected classes" to include, sexual preference, religion, national origion, and almost anything else. Left out was the White Male class. The court also ordered that the ultimate goal of AA was to bring the LAPD into parity with the people it served, no matter what. That meant within the timeline set by the court, LAPD would have to be comprised of 44% women, 18% Black, 27% Hispanic, and the rest divided among gays, immigrants, and White males. The court put on record that there would be no acceptable reasons for the LAPD not to reach the goals within the timeline.

In order to comply, the LAPD realized that they would have to level the playing field to ensure that almost anyone qualified for employment. Since short and unfit people could not climb a wall, or carry a weight, most physical requirements were removed. Since a large portion of LA residents were criminals and gang members, the LAPD reduced it's background requirents. Since most women applicants seldom had any work experience related to police work, work experience was elliminated. And immigrants speaking a foreigh language were bonus applicants, even though they could barely speak English.

So how has Affirmative Action affected the LAPD? In the following posts during the week, I'll give you only first hand experiences in the matter. Please comment with your thoughts. I have placed a Poll near the top of this page, but ask you not to cast your vote until after reading the final post and comments on the subject which will conclude this Friday. The poll is anonymous, but you can vote only once. I don't care about the results, but I thought it would be fun and inlightening. I only want to promote a Thought for the Dock.
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It Was Me Who Got Beat

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A young female police officer, whom I'll call Judy, was on patrol in Los Angeles. It was March 3, 1991, and Judy's third day on the street with her Trainer after graduating from the academy. Judy and her partner responded to an Officer Needs Help call (the Department's highest priority call) and subsequently stood by and watched the beating of Rodney King. Remember him?

LAPD policy, at that time, and as it is today, requires a new police officer to complete six months of academy training, then an additional 12 months of field training before becoming a permanent officer. But, Judy was taken from the streets the day following the beating, and was assigned to work the desk in the Station where I worked until the conclusion of the trial against the officers, nearly two years later. Coincidental, Judy was the State's star witness and her testimony helped send two of the officers to prison, and a third to the unemployment line.

I lost track of Judy, until the Spring of 1995. It was then that I competed for a promotional assignment to Detective. Judy, having only three years seniority, never having completed her formal required training, and with only a few months working some bicycle patrol at Venice Beach, was awarded the position. Now I wondered, how could someone with her limited background be selected over a 20 year veteran, having years of training officer experience, traffic, gangs, narcotics, and even an undercover detective assignment of for 5 years? Was it a reward for her testimony? But I let it go, until....

A week later, I was summoned to meet with one of the three Board members that conducted the promotional interview. I had never met the guy before the interview and he was of significant rank within the LAPD. He explained that he was troubled over Judy's selection and showed me the original score cards of the three Board members. Each member scored me 100% and recommended that the Chief promote me. Of the 30 or so candidates for the job, none had scores of 85% or higher, and Judy's score was 77.5%, the lowest of all. He told me that he would retain that evidence and would testify in my behalf if it went further.

Well, after thinking about things, and obtaining legal advice, I filed suit in Federal Court alleging reverse discrimination. During the investigative stage mandated by the court, a recent Federal Court Ruling was uncovered from a similar case. In that case, the Court ruled that to support a discrimination charge, an "Unqualified" candidate had to be selected over a "Qualified" one. Since each one of the candidates had scores of 70% or above, all were qualified. Therefore, the court ruled that there was no discrimination in my case, and it was dismissed.

As a side note, Judy, after giving her new job a try, surrendered it and went back to the bike detail. And I obtained my promotion on my next attempt.

What is now referred to as Affirmative Action actually got it's roots in Los Angeles. And I've always supported the intent of the law, even though I knew it would never benefit me. In many instances I can see the positive results that has been accomplished. But over the years, the law has been changed, and it might be time to go.

In the days following, I intend to discuss this Affirmative Action further, only because it is a concern of the upcoming Senate confirmation to the Supreme Court. I'll warn you in advance that I will be frank, but I'll speak only about incidents that I know of first hand. Some of you will likely be offended because it is a sensitive subject, especially if you have been touched by it directly. Feel free to comment appropriately if you want, or not read my blog if you choose.

Or wait for the next post from the Thought Dock.
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At the Top, but I Can't See Down

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Long before computers and the Internet, the Sears catalog was my biggest source of information to the outside world (outside of my world anyway). In Those Days, Sears sold everything from socks to boats. I would dwell for hours at a time in that catalog. My Mother would laugh and say I was dreaming. Well, a dream which one pursues is a plan, and I was planning. From my early teens, I've always had a plan.


Long before the days of Easy Rider, my plan was to explore this Country in a free spirited way, alone, on a motorcycle. Only then, my plan was to ride the newly imported Honda-50 moped, and I didn't care if it's top speed was only 28mph.


I planned to get a motor boat someday, something my Dad had only dreamed of. I planned to be an auto mechanic and to own a junkyard or a hardware store, to join the Army for the fight in Vietnam, and to have a family of my own. But I knew, even then, to have back up plans. Many of my plans were modified or eliminated, but many more were realized.


Now, for me, the Thought Dock is the top of my world. It's not the highest peak, nor is it near the artic circle. But, if you rotate your globe to the right, the Thought Dock is at the top. And that is the way my world is - to the right.

As I look across the water from the Thought Dock, the memories of just how I came to be me appear as visions. My mistakes. My successes. It wasn't easy at times. I guess I could have taken the easy way to fame just by selling autographed portraits of myself (extra for the nude ones), or charging people for my wisdom. But, in my own eyes, I'm proud of how I came to be me.

But, when I look down into the water from the Thought Dock, my visions are only reflected to the Heaven above. And I realize that I didn't achieve this all by myself. I am incapable to understand why, but the Lord has blessed me in so many ways, and many I've yet to recognize. He has blessed me with family, with friends, with teachers and mentors, with good health and sound wisdom, and even with enemies. All of which have been instrumental to me being me.

So, I strive to look up from the Thought Dock. Into the blue skies by day, and into the vastness of the stars at night. I'm really not sure where Heaven actually is. But I sure feel better looking up where I believe it waits for me.


Ok... Ok...Enough...With my next post, I'll take a break from the recent recipes and mushy stuff. I had to go there because some of my Followers couldn't take it and felt like crying, while others have Teflon coated brains and my wisdom just slides off if I serve them too much at a time. But, I know there are others that yearn for the real, thought provoking and stimulating crap produced from the Thought Dock. So, stand by..

Enjoy your weekend!

Razor Clamming

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In Those Days, my father would pick up a bucket of claims from the pier at Sheeps Head Bay, on the Right Coast. I'm sure he would have preferred the lobster and crab, but he got the clams most of the time because they were the cheapest things around then. Sometimes he would slice them open and slide the goo into his mouth because he just couldn't wait while my mother steamed them. I really never cared for them and would only venture for a bowl of chowder every now or then.

Now that I have returned to coastal living (although it's the left coast), clams are a very popular choice in the local diners. So I tried a bite of a deep fried Razor clam from the plate of Lisa G a while back, and it was very, very good. And that got my interest up.

I've seen many people digging for clams in the estuary near my house. For you landlockers, an estuary is where a fresh water river meets the ocean. Sometimes, like around here, the ocean tide actually flows 15 miles inland, and up stream. Anyway, that's where Razor clams come from, but I think they are also on the ocean's beaches away from the estuary.

So the other day, I tried it. After waiting for low tide, I climbed down the river bank, and sunk a few inches into the muck. Actually, it's the same crap that I bought a few weeks ago for topsoil, but at the garden supply, they call it loom. I realized this wasn't going to work, so I returned home and got my boots (about 12" tall) and tried it a gain. This time I wandered out about 50 feet and sunk about 8 inches. The river is about a half mile wide there and I needed to go another 200 feet to where I had saw people clamming on a previous day.

But, with each step, I sunk even further. The hardest part was to pull your foot out of the sticky yucky muck without leaving the boot behind, and before your other foot sunk even deeper. You'd think that someone would invent a snow shoe type gadget for this.

How could a clam even taste good after living in this yucky muck? And, the yucky muck stinks as well. I soon feared that the muck would devour me and my body would never be found. I tried to run back to the river bank, but after nearly falling into the yucky muck face first, I realized that wouldn't work and I'd have to take it slow, step by step. So it took me about a half hour to walk the 50 steps back to the bank. I was pooped.

I learned I'm not a crabber, and I could just buy them at the local market, without risking my life. So, I'll just do that. Might even tweek my recipe and whip up a Clam and Snow Pea Pasta.

But now, I got to check out the kayakers on the Lake with my Stargazor - Wildlife spotting telescope that my udda sista got me for Christmas. Could be just tourists or vacationers, or they could be terrorists or illegal aliens. I'll get to the bottom of it.

I'll be back with some more wisdom from the Thought Dock another time.
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Fresh Seafood Pasta in Heavy Cheese Sauce

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My wife works late at the clinic every Wednesday. So that means, in addition to all the things I do around the house every other day, I have to feed the five pet critters as well as myself.

So, I'm always looking for ways to lessen my load, and try new things that she would not likely take a liking to if she were here. And last night, I think I outdid my previous best food creation. I only dirtied one sauce pan and one fork while doing it. Since doing the dishes is not my chore. I'm sure my wife will be grateful for that.

So, I'd like to share my easy 12 minute gourmet recipe with you that would cost less than a dollar a serving:

Follow the directions to boil up the pasta in the cheapest store brand box of Macaroni & Cheese (or even better yet, the military combat pack version). Drain and stir in the powdered cheese mix, but instead of using milk, use extra butter. Then stir in the previous night's scraps (some call them left overs) of meat. In my creation I used a several day old piece scrap salmon, which was moistened up by the steaming pasta. Top it all off with a squirt of honey mustard, or I even like Ketchup. Eat it directly from the pan to save on dishes. Don't worry that the box says it makes 4-6 servings, because you'll eat it all yourself. It's meant to be a single serving for a stay at home husband. And you wake up promptly the following morning for your duty. Ahhh..

Yummy...Yummy!!

The Fishy Beggar

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Well, this morning I ventured away from the safety of the Thought Dock and went into town. After taking care of some routine banking business, I grabbed a burger combination from an unspecified business, and went to the dock for a vehicle picnic (That's where you park and eat your food in your truck).

The dock, is the public dock on the river in Old Town of this Central Oregon Coast community, and is far different than the Thought Dock that I'm used to. Different, but not in a bad way. There, away from the solitude of the Thought Dock, I find more real world things to watch and think about.

Like today, I saw a man clad in fishing garb, complete from the black boots with red soles and the yellow heavy weather rain suit. Just like they wear on Deadliest Catch! He was carrying a fishing pole and his skin was leathery. Actually, he belonged in a museum.

I'd seen him before in the area, but never really gave him much Thought. Not today. Today, I realized something more about him. Today was a beautifully clear and calm day, and no need to wear that heavy rain coat. And there were no commercial fishing boats docked, or puddles in the streets, so there was no need for the boots. And even if he were going fishing on a commercial boat, he would have no use for a fishing pole designed to catch trout. And, I've never even seen anyone fish the river from the dock outside of Salmon season (which it is not yet). And then he disappeared among the maze of tourists eating their ice cream cones while strolling Old Town.

Just about the time I finished my last sweet potato french fry (really yummy), he approached my window and asked me for a few bucks. I didn't even answer him. I guess he saw my eyes roll back just a bit and left on his own. Either that, or he was scared of the ketchup dripping from my chin.

Now, I had never seen a Fishing Beggar, and actually I think his pole never gets used. But he had a great costume that I'm sure does him well. If he had any motivation he could simply pose among the tourist for a photo and really take in the dough.

Just thinking about the dock from the Thought Dock.
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The Enforcer

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Seems everyone today questions authority. And everyone questions the Enforcer's use of force to enforce their authority.

Many moons ago, the people ruled that Enforcers could not use a fire hose to quell a street riot. It was actually the court that made that decision but I use the term "people" because the court represent the people. So the Enforcers employed tear gas, which the people also thought was excessive. So the people gave the Enforcers helmets, shields, and night sticks to defend against the bricks and fire bombs thrown at them. And the people charged the Enforcers with brutality when they beat the aggressors with their sticks. Sound funny?

In LA, a bank robber took a teller hostage and placed a gun to her head as he attempted to leave the bank. An Enforcer shot the gun from the robber's hand and took him into custody. The people gave lots of money to the hostage because fragments from the Enforcer's bullet penetrated her cheek. And later that year, a burglar being chased from a victim's home by an Enforcer, ran through a closed sliding glass door, and nearly cut his head off. The people that guy money too, ruling it was the Enforcer's fault. Sound crazy?

A few years later, in Texas, a bank robber shot an Enforcer that was chasing him though an alley. The robber claimed self defence and was exonerated of the attempted murder charge because the people said that the Enforcer would shot the robber first if he had the chance. But he was convicted of the robbery. Believe it?

A suicidal man fell to his death when an Enforcer used a taser to try and save him from jumping off a roof. And another man that was threatening suicide with a gun to his temple, was injured when an Enforcer tried to save his life by shooting the gun out of his hand. The people chastised each of these Enforcers. Comical?

An Enforcer was sent to prison for beating Rodney King into submission after chasing him all over the SoCal freeways. And another time, LA Enforcers were brought to trial because the felons that they were chasing crashed into an innocent's car. Really?

And in Iraq, a military Enforcer was tried for shooting a 12-year old kid that was levelling an AK in his direction. The people expected to let the kid shoot first. And many more are now facing prosecution for interviewing their prisoners too harshly. Pretty nuts?

You might find these stories to be funny, crazy, unbelievable, comical, and nuts. But our Enforcers don't think so. Enforcing is not what it was when I was one. Now days many Enforcers worry more about losing their jobs, or going to prison, than they do about being injured or even killed. And I don't blame them.

What would an Enforcer have to lose if he/she just let the idiots burn their own city, let a deranged person kill himself, or let a felon escape rather that involving an innocent in a car crash. Why not just let Rodney go? Why volunteer for Iraq? Why bother to even question your prisiner? Is this what the people want? I am so glad that I don't make these kinds of decisions any longer, and I pray very often for those that do.

Now, I'd rather be lost on the Lake than found at home.
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Is that Right?

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Last summer our County placed an initiative on the ballot to increase taxes specifically to preserve the then mostly free parks system. The County threatened to close about half of the parks and lay off workers if the initiative failed. Well, it failed. Nobody got laid off, and none of the parks closed, but the County did put usage fees on every park. Is that right?

Like everywhere, there is a huge push to conserve energy. But in our State, now that people are buying hybrids and stuff to save fuel, the State collects less money from the gasoline tax. Now the State wants to put a use fee, based upon the miles you drive, in addition to the gas tax. And they threaten to double our motor vehicle registration fees if we don't agree. Is that right?

Our State also added a deposit on water bottles. (Seems odd that there is no deposit on all the other plastic bottles like Windex, or liquid soaps). The deposit, which is about ten times greater than the value of the bottle, can only be refunded at the place of sale. The bar code prevents you from trying to get the refund anywhere else. So if you're travelling, forget about the deposit. We have mandatory recycling for our rubbish collection. So, even if you separate the stuff for them, they keep the recycle deposits and value of the scrap. It's all planned as a means to turn the deposits into an outright tax for the State. Is that right?

Our published City budget revealed that a significant portion of their income was derived through traffic fines. In looking at the yearly comparisons, as the City budget grew, so did the traffic fines. Is that right?

I'm sure that each of you can site similar examples of this in your government. Here is my point:
Fees enacted by our government are not identified as "Taxes" and do not need the approval of the people. Fees can be collected by the City, County, or State administrator, pretty much at their will. Fees are actually worse than taxes because most of the time you can't even write them off as income. Is that Right?

Times are tough. Unemployment is above 12% nationwide with some areas double that. Those figure are based upon unemployment claims, and do not include Welfare or unemployment claims that have run out. Yet there are very few layoffs in government. The government, to ensure their jobs, just continues to tax us more.

Is that right, or am I right? Good day from the Thought Dock.