mind expanding nonsense

Posts tagged ‘jail’

My Little Girl Is A Private Eye

Yep my 33 year old daughter is a private Eye…. A genuine Licensed Private Investigator in the State of California. My gawd am I proud of her, because when I was a kid , I grew up watching every Private Eye show there was.   From 77 Sunset Strip and Hawaiian Eye, to Magnum P I, Mannix and more. One of my favorite songs back then was (I wanna be a) Private Eye by the Olympics. The Eyes had it, cause if we weren’t watchin’ P I shows, then it had to be Westerns. And guess what? The Olympics even did a song about Western Movies. Nothing like staying with the latest rend while doin’ the “Hully Gully”. Turn your speakers on and listen while ya read the rest of this post.


Anyway, My little girl used to fight crime like her Daddy. But she found out that there was more money in Fighting FOR Crime, and bailed out of the probation racket. Now she’s working for private attorneys, helping them defend people who have been wrongly accused and in need of some justice. Apparently some of these folks can afford a lot of justice, cause she don’t work cheap.

Here’s a good one. How did she become interested in a probation career? Because Daddy took her to work one day on “Bring Your Daughter To Work Day”. Shouldn’t of ever done it. Part of my job at the time, was interviewing jail inmates who were to be sentenced in the afternoon. So one morning, I took daughter down to the holding cells in the basement of the Courts building, to show her what Daddy does all day. We get down there, through a long sterile hallway where manacled inmates in orange jumpsuits where shuffling around, turn the corner to the interview rooms (2” thick, small glass rooms which one conversed through a small screened opening).

Hello!! Locked inside one of them, and being segregated from the rest of the population was a five and a half foot tall wiry man in belly chains (hands cuffed to a chain around his waist that connects to the manacles on his feet), who commenced to go off on my daughter. This guy was literally foaming at the mouth and calling my sweet, innocent 13 year old a “fucking whore” while spitting at her and calling her every foul word you hoped she’d never hear. This guy was psychotic, and mad as hell (the angry type). Needless to say, that was a short interview and we got the hell outta there. I later asked her, “Well Pumpkin, what did you think of Daddies work?”

Working for the other side” was kinda difficult for her at first, because when you’re in law enforcement you tend to get a warped view of people, thinking that they are all “Dirt-bags” or Crooks; Or just Dirt-bags and Crooks in waiting; waiting till you can catch them doing something wrong. Now they are “Clients”, who pay well.

Ironically, she got her start “sleuthing” from a cop, who got his hand caught in the evidence locker, due to a little cocaine habit he picked up. Here’s the kicker. Guess who did the probation report on the former narcotics officer turned defendant.? Hansi did. I shit you not. Back in 1984 I did a report on this guy, recommended probation, he cleaned up, became a private investigator, met my daughter through a colleague of hers, and hired her for some jobs. The rest is history.

I got to go out with her when she was serving subpoenas for a big double murder trial she was working on. She doesn’t do the “catch em cheating” type of P I work; only works for attorneys. That was fun, $50 bucks an hour, plus mileage, to drive around LA, looking for people who have long since vanished. Who says crime doesn’t pay. My little girl thinks crime pays exceptionally well, especially when you’re facing a trial for it.

Think I’ll listen to Western Movies by The Olympics. And dream up a blog post about all the great TV Westerns of the 50’s, like Maverick, Paladin, and Bonanza.

Sorry, you got to click on the U Tube link to hear this classic.

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The Gym

About four to five mornings a week, I drag myself out of bed, get on my bike, and go to the Gym. I love lifting weights and working out. When I was fighting crime, one had to stay in shape to keep up with the bad guys. You also had to have a lot of endurance to put up with the idiotic directives and endless cascade of bullshit coming down from ”Admin”. So, like the guys in prison, many of whom can thank me for being there, I felt I needed to keep up with the clientele.

Now I gotta clear up some things for all you folks that may think being a Probation Officer was in anyway exciting or interesting. When I told people what I did for a living, they’d say something like: “How interesting” or “You must like working with people,” No, I didn’t like working with people, I liked screwin’ with people or why would I be in a racket where all I did all day was tell folks what to do, and threaten them with jail if they didn’t?? AND, to set the record straight; because I hate the confusion of terms. Probation means supervision BEFORE prison: parole means supervision AFTER prison. Jail, is a county facility. Prison is a State Penitentiary, commonly know as “The Pen”, “Big House”, or my favorite, “The Joint”. I would always snicker at that term because it was ‘loaded’ with double meanings.

Back to the Gym. When people ask me if I workout; I usually say “Ain’t it obvious?” Well apparently it’s not, or they wouldn’t be asking. When they ask me “Where”, I reply “The Gym”. “The gym?”, they reply, and I tell them the name of my gym is The Gym. Pretty simple, but sometimes people can’t comprehend that and an Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First” routine ensues, and it’s down hill from here. If they’d over medicated themselves (which sometimes accidentally happens to me) a “Niagara Falls” routine would follow.

I started liftin’ weights when I was sixteen years old, and got myself a Health-Ways 110 lb barbell set. I did every exercise in the small training booklet that came with it. Just like the husky guy in the diagrams, I was bench pressing, doing the military press, and tons of curls: wanted them big ‘guns’. [I was unarmed as a P O]. Boy I sure had a lot of testosterone them days. Wonder how many other 60 year old guys rushed out to buy a weight set after getting sand kicked in their faces. That never happened to me after I started “lifting”. And just like the Ad in them matchbook covers….Now I was the sand kicker, not the kickee….Sorry guys.

I didn’t keep lifting throughout the years. I stopped in college after I first learned about the joint. Or else, I would have been massive, awesome like Arnold, and in really good shape. Now I’m like Arnold. No job, and physically deteriorating; I don’t die my hair. But I started liftin’ again, fifteen years ago, and am now still in my prime.
So I go to the GYM just about every morning and workout.

My/The Gym is not a meat-market like a lot of “fitness clubs”. But an older gym, with even older clientele. Which is good if ya just want to stay in shape and want to get more out of Social Security than you ever paid in. Most of the folks there are friendly and into just staying fit. There’s tons of doctors, lawyers, and even a judge working out there. Some of these guys you even get to know pretty well.

Take my Tea Party Buddie, Mick. I sure like to yank his chain with some progressive stuff like, “Old Sarah sure got her tits caught in a wringer with that blood libel shit”. Well having arrived at the Gym with a big dose of Rush Limbaugh already under his belt, he’s ready to rant and usually responds with “You liberals always……” and then goes on with the latest GOP talking points or O’Riley rant. He thinks I’m serious. I’m really just screwin’ with him ( old habits die hard), and pushing every conservative button I know to see him squirm. Although we actually share a lot of fiscally conservative views, when it comes to religion, the intercourse takes on new heights of delight. He accuses me of not believing in God. To which I respond, “Yes I do, I go to church and worship Her every Sunday”. Mick goes ballistic and is usually so shell-shocked, that he stops liftin’ and has to go right home and turn on Fox News…..Don’t exercise much when he’s around, but my funny bone sure gets a good work-out.

So, not only does The Gym, keep me physically awesome, but mentally as well. Some of my best rants get their start in The Gym.

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