WE ARE A BIT WEARY of intercepting idiotic and treasonous comments from assorted Leftists, and having to delete them. After all, you lice on the Left already get your voices heard in the Washington Post and the New York Times. I will not allow you to speak on MY publication, and - what joy! - you cannot do one damn thing about it!
I do allow comments from reasonable people who disagree with me, but I have had to delete so many personal attacks and spit-flying lunacy that I had to do something.
THEREFORE. Henceforth all comments will be reviewed before they are published. I will endeavour to check for comments every day and allow the good ones to see print. Thank you for reading the Allexandria Daily Poop.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
BOOK EXCERPT - FROM THE NOVEL IN PROGRESS "THE PETERSON INVESTIGATION"
THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY UPCOMING NOVEL "THE PETERSON INVESTIGATION". The story is basically about a D.C. Homicide detective who grew up in Huber Heights, Ohio; who retires in 1995 and is asked by one of his boyhood friends, who is now the Chief of the Huber Heights Police, to return and command the HHPD Criminal Investigation Division. He accepts, thinking he is in for a laid-back (compared to DC) post=retirement gig. But three weeks after he is sworn in he is confronted by a horrendous murder that is a stone 'whodunit".
In the scene below, Detective Sergeant John Philip Waterman and Chief (Colonel) Kyle David Meadows are on a drive through the City of Huber Heights so that Waterman can see the various changes to the territory since he left town for the Air Force. They are on Rip Rap Road and are passing an enclave called Miami Villa when the conversation triggers a memory for Waterman about a tragic illegal drag race in 1969, which will have a major bearing on the plot later.
This is FICTION. Any resemblance of any character to any real person, living or dead, is purely co-incidental. Copyright 2010 by F. Allen Norman, Jr.; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
A few miles later we arrived at Miami Villa. "The Villa" was and is a community of mostly very blue-collar folks. Back in the day, they were nowhere nearly as well-off as the middle-class families living in what was then called "Huber Homes". They constantly dealt with flooding, as the community is hard by the Great Miami and the river overtops the levee from time to time. The houses mostly use propane for heating and cooking. But they are very well kept up, and the driveways and yards are home to boats and some of the best, fastest, and most well-maintained "muscle cars" in the region. The kids attend City schools, and in our day they were called the "Villa Rats" (but never to their faces unless the caller wanted an ass-kicking.) They were some of the toughest kids I have ever known. These folks were mechanics and machinists, mostly. They were salt-of-the-Earth people, but they were fiercely independent. If they could have issued passports to their community, they would have done so. "Generally' Kyle said, 'We don't go in there unless they call us or unless we have business there. They like to take care of their own problems, so unless someone gets killed or something we sorta let them be. But they've given us a couple of good cops. Jimmy Lawson, the guy you replaced, he's from the Villa. Remember Johnny Lawson, the Villa boy in our class who got killed in that drag race? Jimmy is his kid brother."
Johnny Lawson was a Villa kid who was known for his 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. He had worked for that car from the age of thirteen, raking leaves and shoveling walks, weeding gardens, whatever he had to do to get the money. When he was 15 he bought it, and it sat in the family carport while he kept working every chance he got. Weekends he might be found working on it with a clutch of older boys, souping up the engine and drive train, or sanding down the body by hand for the paint job he wanted for it. The day he got his driver's license, he celebrated by driving the primer-coated monster into Vandalia for painting.
What emerged from A&L Body and Paint was a 1957 Chevy sedan with full-moon hubcaps, a chrome air scoop on the hood, a tachometer installed outside the windshield, and a four-speed floor mounted Hurst shifting setup. The interior was as plush as a New Orleans whorehouse with black crushed velvet seats and chrome trim galore. The beast had been painted metallic "Candy-Apple Red" with a gloss-black racing stripe running from front to rear on the hood, roof, and trunk. The rear end was jacked up as high as State law allowed, and the engine sang through fiberglass- packed "Thrush" mufflers muting the twin exhaust. It sounded like a hungry tiger, and Johnny soon became king of the local street-racing circuit.
A section of Rip Rap Road that was arrow-straight had for years been marked with "START" and "FINISH" lines. It was uniquely suited to illegal street racing because this particular stretch of the road was entered at the south from Wagner Ford Road via a bridge over the Great Miami River. After a slight bend, the road went as straight as a rifle shot for a mile before bending again and re-crossing the Miami to continue north. This enabled the posting of lookouts, and during the summer drag-racing on Rip Rap was a popular - and dangerous, not to mention highly illegal- pastime. Johnny won a lot of money there. He also won two "title-for-title" races and sold the cars for a good profit. I realized as we drove along that it was on this same day and the same road we were on that Johnny Lawson lost his life.
He had been racing a Northridge boy who was driving a Chevy El Camino. It turned out later that two of the Northridge boy's pals and he were out for vengance, since Johnny had taken the title to a cousin's car in a race. The Montgomery County Sheriff's investigators had found that the other two Northridge boys had stood among the other spectators and thrown roofing nails into Johnny's path. Johnny hit those nails going at least 150 MPH. His right front tire blew, shredded, and his car left the road, rolling over at sickening speed ; then hit a tree on the riverbank and ejected him into the swollen Great Miami River. The next day I had gone to see the County rescue squad dragging the river with grappling hooks as the Lawson family watched and wept. I suddenly realized that the 10-year-old blond boy who was clinging to his father weeping that day must have been Jimmy. I sighed and - although I am not Catholic - crossed myself. Little did I know that this 1969 case of aggravated manslaughter would come roaring back with awful consequenses here in 1995, fully 26 years later. "Hey' Kyle said, 'turn up Fishburg. See that bar on the corner?............
In the scene below, Detective Sergeant John Philip Waterman and Chief (Colonel) Kyle David Meadows are on a drive through the City of Huber Heights so that Waterman can see the various changes to the territory since he left town for the Air Force. They are on Rip Rap Road and are passing an enclave called Miami Villa when the conversation triggers a memory for Waterman about a tragic illegal drag race in 1969, which will have a major bearing on the plot later.
This is FICTION. Any resemblance of any character to any real person, living or dead, is purely co-incidental. Copyright 2010 by F. Allen Norman, Jr.; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
From "THE PETERSON INVESTIGATION"
Chapter II
The Territory
(Copyright 2010 F. Allen Norman, Jr. All rights reserved.)
A few miles later we arrived at Miami Villa. "The Villa" was and is a community of mostly very blue-collar folks. Back in the day, they were nowhere nearly as well-off as the middle-class families living in what was then called "Huber Homes". They constantly dealt with flooding, as the community is hard by the Great Miami and the river overtops the levee from time to time. The houses mostly use propane for heating and cooking. But they are very well kept up, and the driveways and yards are home to boats and some of the best, fastest, and most well-maintained "muscle cars" in the region. The kids attend City schools, and in our day they were called the "Villa Rats" (but never to their faces unless the caller wanted an ass-kicking.) They were some of the toughest kids I have ever known. These folks were mechanics and machinists, mostly. They were salt-of-the-Earth people, but they were fiercely independent. If they could have issued passports to their community, they would have done so. "Generally' Kyle said, 'We don't go in there unless they call us or unless we have business there. They like to take care of their own problems, so unless someone gets killed or something we sorta let them be. But they've given us a couple of good cops. Jimmy Lawson, the guy you replaced, he's from the Villa. Remember Johnny Lawson, the Villa boy in our class who got killed in that drag race? Jimmy is his kid brother."
Johnny Lawson was a Villa kid who was known for his 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. He had worked for that car from the age of thirteen, raking leaves and shoveling walks, weeding gardens, whatever he had to do to get the money. When he was 15 he bought it, and it sat in the family carport while he kept working every chance he got. Weekends he might be found working on it with a clutch of older boys, souping up the engine and drive train, or sanding down the body by hand for the paint job he wanted for it. The day he got his driver's license, he celebrated by driving the primer-coated monster into Vandalia for painting.
What emerged from A&L Body and Paint was a 1957 Chevy sedan with full-moon hubcaps, a chrome air scoop on the hood, a tachometer installed outside the windshield, and a four-speed floor mounted Hurst shifting setup. The interior was as plush as a New Orleans whorehouse with black crushed velvet seats and chrome trim galore. The beast had been painted metallic "Candy-Apple Red" with a gloss-black racing stripe running from front to rear on the hood, roof, and trunk. The rear end was jacked up as high as State law allowed, and the engine sang through fiberglass- packed "Thrush" mufflers muting the twin exhaust. It sounded like a hungry tiger, and Johnny soon became king of the local street-racing circuit.
A section of Rip Rap Road that was arrow-straight had for years been marked with "START" and "FINISH" lines. It was uniquely suited to illegal street racing because this particular stretch of the road was entered at the south from Wagner Ford Road via a bridge over the Great Miami River. After a slight bend, the road went as straight as a rifle shot for a mile before bending again and re-crossing the Miami to continue north. This enabled the posting of lookouts, and during the summer drag-racing on Rip Rap was a popular - and dangerous, not to mention highly illegal- pastime. Johnny won a lot of money there. He also won two "title-for-title" races and sold the cars for a good profit. I realized as we drove along that it was on this same day and the same road we were on that Johnny Lawson lost his life.
He had been racing a Northridge boy who was driving a Chevy El Camino. It turned out later that two of the Northridge boy's pals and he were out for vengance, since Johnny had taken the title to a cousin's car in a race. The Montgomery County Sheriff's investigators had found that the other two Northridge boys had stood among the other spectators and thrown roofing nails into Johnny's path. Johnny hit those nails going at least 150 MPH. His right front tire blew, shredded, and his car left the road, rolling over at sickening speed ; then hit a tree on the riverbank and ejected him into the swollen Great Miami River. The next day I had gone to see the County rescue squad dragging the river with grappling hooks as the Lawson family watched and wept. I suddenly realized that the 10-year-old blond boy who was clinging to his father weeping that day must have been Jimmy. I sighed and - although I am not Catholic - crossed myself. Little did I know that this 1969 case of aggravated manslaughter would come roaring back with awful consequenses here in 1995, fully 26 years later. "Hey' Kyle said, 'turn up Fishburg. See that bar on the corner?............
END OF EXCERPT.
Friday, August 27, 2010
WHY DON'T WE PAY OBAMA ONE BILLION DOLLARS TO RESIGN?
REALLY. WE ARE BEING COMPLETELY SERIOUS HERE. Look at how much money this shithead ignorant "president" has spent in the name of "saving the economy"; only to see things get WORSE.
Not only this, but look what he and First Lady Michelle are doing: Jetting off to exotic locations, stuffing their faces with the finest grub, and living LARGE, baby, LARGE! When everone in the country is feeling the misery of these financial woes, Barack and Michelle live as though they were a pair of Alabama trailer park denizens who just hit the Powerball for half a billion dollars.
So I say, give Barack Obama and Michelle one billion dollars, on the condition that Barack resign the Presidency. That is half the cost of a B1 bomber, and among other benefits this stipend might help assure we never have to use a B1 in a war with a nuclear armed Iran. Not to mention he won't be ordering up new "entitlement spending" and otherwise throwing away money willy-nilly like Micheal Jackson at the FAO Schwartz toy store.
Not only this, but look what he and First Lady Michelle are doing: Jetting off to exotic locations, stuffing their faces with the finest grub, and living LARGE, baby, LARGE! When everone in the country is feeling the misery of these financial woes, Barack and Michelle live as though they were a pair of Alabama trailer park denizens who just hit the Powerball for half a billion dollars.
So I say, give Barack Obama and Michelle one billion dollars, on the condition that Barack resign the Presidency. That is half the cost of a B1 bomber, and among other benefits this stipend might help assure we never have to use a B1 in a war with a nuclear armed Iran. Not to mention he won't be ordering up new "entitlement spending" and otherwise throwing away money willy-nilly like Micheal Jackson at the FAO Schwartz toy store.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
AND NOW A MESSAGE FROM YOUR TAXICAB DRIVER ABOUT PAYING WITH PLASTIC
OKAY, FOLKS. I'LL GET RIGHT TO THE POINT. DESPITE WHAT YOU SEE IN THOSE GODDAMN VISA COMMERCIALS WHERE THE CAB DRIVER SMILES BECAUSE HE'S SO DAMNED HAPPY TO BE PAID WITH A CREDIT CARD, I CAN ASSURE YOU THIS IS BULLSHIT. WE CAB DRIVERS HATE BEING PAID IN ANYTHING BUT CASH. IF YOU ARE WONDERING WHY THIS IS, READ FURTHER.
First thing is, hacking a cab is a CASH BUSINESS!
All our expenses have to be paid in cash. Gasoline, lunch. oil changes, maintenance, tow trucks (God forbid) and emergency repairs CANNOT BE PAID FOR WITH THAT FUCKING SLIP OF PAPER YOU SIGN.
Well then, turn it in at the cab company for cash, you say.
Ho, ho, ho. If a driver turns in a credit slip, and he has fees due the company in the next few days, they apply the money to the fees. If the fees are less than the amount of the credit card slips, they write him a check at the end of the week. This does him no good if he has to pay for a brake job right NOW.
Speaking of fees, the cab company charges a 5% (or more) processing fee to the drivers, and this applies to the entire amount including the tip. It is to them just another way to screw us over.
Next thing is, you say "convenience"? Convenience, my ass.
It really chaps my ass when some airhead takes a cab ride to some busy club downtown, and with all the hurly-burly outside the club and valets and cops yelling move, move; pulls out a goddamn card that I have to zip , get signed and then run through the computer. I can make change for ten fares in the time it takes to process your piece-of-shit plastic. Time is money. Thanks a pantload for wasting mine.
"Plastic money" is an insidious threat to liberty. Really.
First thing, EVERY TIME you pay with plastic, there is a permanent record made somewhere of where you just were and what you just did. Wonder why you get all that junk mail? Now you know.
Second, not having to actually see the money you are spending divorces you from reality. That's what a lot of merchants count on. The bank loves it too, because it rolls up those fees. And all this encouragement to use credit/debit cards is aimed at eventually replacing hard currency with plastic. Once that happens the government will be able to determine exactly what everyone has, where they got it, from whom; as well as how much money you have, and to the penny. Feel good about that? (If the answer is "yes" then you are a fucking IDIOT)
Oh, and you minority folks who say "Here mah credicks card" and hand me a debit card: You are not fooling anybody. It's a debit card.
So everybody, stop with the giving cab drivers plastic. We want MONEY. Pay with MONEY. Got it? MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MONEY.
First thing is, hacking a cab is a CASH BUSINESS!
All our expenses have to be paid in cash. Gasoline, lunch. oil changes, maintenance, tow trucks (God forbid) and emergency repairs CANNOT BE PAID FOR WITH THAT FUCKING SLIP OF PAPER YOU SIGN.
Well then, turn it in at the cab company for cash, you say.
Ho, ho, ho. If a driver turns in a credit slip, and he has fees due the company in the next few days, they apply the money to the fees. If the fees are less than the amount of the credit card slips, they write him a check at the end of the week. This does him no good if he has to pay for a brake job right NOW.
Speaking of fees, the cab company charges a 5% (or more) processing fee to the drivers, and this applies to the entire amount including the tip. It is to them just another way to screw us over.
Next thing is, you say "convenience"? Convenience, my ass.
It really chaps my ass when some airhead takes a cab ride to some busy club downtown, and with all the hurly-burly outside the club and valets and cops yelling move, move; pulls out a goddamn card that I have to zip , get signed and then run through the computer. I can make change for ten fares in the time it takes to process your piece-of-shit plastic. Time is money. Thanks a pantload for wasting mine.
"Plastic money" is an insidious threat to liberty. Really.
First thing, EVERY TIME you pay with plastic, there is a permanent record made somewhere of where you just were and what you just did. Wonder why you get all that junk mail? Now you know.
Second, not having to actually see the money you are spending divorces you from reality. That's what a lot of merchants count on. The bank loves it too, because it rolls up those fees. And all this encouragement to use credit/debit cards is aimed at eventually replacing hard currency with plastic. Once that happens the government will be able to determine exactly what everyone has, where they got it, from whom; as well as how much money you have, and to the penny. Feel good about that? (If the answer is "yes" then you are a fucking IDIOT)
Oh, and you minority folks who say "Here mah credicks card" and hand me a debit card: You are not fooling anybody. It's a debit card.
So everybody, stop with the giving cab drivers plastic. We want MONEY. Pay with MONEY. Got it? MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MONEY.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
NEW COCKTAIL INVENTED IN HONOR OF HELEN THOMAS
WE AT THE ALEXANDRIA DAILY POOP ANNOUNCE THE INVENTION OF A NEW COCKTAIL IN HONOR OF HELEN THOMAS, the "veteran whitehouse reporter" who recently said that the Jews should "get the hell out" of Israel and go back to Poland and Germany. Why there she did not say, but from her tone presumably it was so the job begun in the 1930s could be finished.
So we announce the cocktail we call "The Screwy Old Bitch": Pour two shots of vodka over ice in a tall glass and serve.
You see, it's basically a Screwdriver without any juice. (Juice, Jews,.....Get it? Forget it.)
So we announce the cocktail we call "The Screwy Old Bitch": Pour two shots of vodka over ice in a tall glass and serve.
You see, it's basically a Screwdriver without any juice. (Juice, Jews,.....Get it? Forget it.)
Monday, June 7, 2010
COMING ATTRACTION
We are working on an overview and explanation of the United States Constitution. This along with our work and our novel is taking much time. Tune in every now and then, we will post when we can, but although time is infinite, our time is not. Thank you for reading The Alexandria Daily Poop.
Friday, May 28, 2010
YOU SEE? WE TOLD YOU SO.
Isn't it funny how all the Lefties kept saying "give Obama a chance" as he constantly fucked up everything he touched? Now here he is with a great opportunity to walk the walk by making his first priority the huge disaster resulting from the explosion of a British Petroleum deep-water oil drilling unit in the Gulf of Mexico and the resulting well blowout resulting in a lot of oil creating troubled waters. He could hve jumped up and led. Instead, where has he been?
Hosting the President of Mexico and giving him a platform from which to scold and insult this nation.
Talking with some sports guy about a basketball player
AND HAVING A FUND-RAISING DINNER AND SCHMOOZE-FEST WITH OF ALL THINGS A PACK OF BILLIONAIRES FROM GETTY OIL!
It boggles the mind. Haven't we told you this jug-eared fuckhead is a nincompoop?
In other news, we haven't posted here for a while, we are working on our novel, "The Peterson Investigation". We would love to give some exerpts from the draft, but we cannot seem to transfer it to here from my Microsoft Word document. We will try to be more active, but the book is a priority. "President" Obama will destroy his own self in due time.
Hosting the President of Mexico and giving him a platform from which to scold and insult this nation.
Talking with some sports guy about a basketball player
AND HAVING A FUND-RAISING DINNER AND SCHMOOZE-FEST WITH OF ALL THINGS A PACK OF BILLIONAIRES FROM GETTY OIL!
It boggles the mind. Haven't we told you this jug-eared fuckhead is a nincompoop?
In other news, we haven't posted here for a while, we are working on our novel, "The Peterson Investigation". We would love to give some exerpts from the draft, but we cannot seem to transfer it to here from my Microsoft Word document. We will try to be more active, but the book is a priority. "President" Obama will destroy his own self in due time.
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