Crazy Violent Dream

Watching the moon rise through the trees this evening, I thought back to a few nights ago, where I woke from a pretty violent dream at 3 AM. I started to write it down, what I could remember, when a critter outside robbing the bird feeder startled me. Full moon, so if I’d been smart I would’ve turned off the lights, and probably been able to see it, but I wasn’t smart, so I didn’t.

First part of the dream, I was talking to someone, a guy, about abortion. He was arguing for it, or something. I don’t remember that part of the dream, but towards the end of that part, I was in a big field, and he drove up in a convertible, and tossed out a little white thing not much bigger than a cigarette butt. In my mind, I knew that it represented another abortion. He did this twice. After the second time, there was a sense of something destructive approaching. I can’t describe it, but I knew it was lethal. A wall appeared behind me, so I got the wall between myself and the approaching “thing”. As I stood behind the wall, a maelstrom of objects began tearing through the wall. I realised there was another wall joined perpendicularly to the wall, and that getting behind that joint in the two walls was the only way to survive, as the wall disintegrated from all of the objects tearing through it. The walls were pretty much disintegrated, when armed men appeared. “Which ones of you are Jews?” or something along the lines, they asked. Some fearful survivors sort of gathered around behind me, and the armed men began bayoneting them. I think I woke up after the third victim was bayoneted.

Tonight, after watching the moon rise, I got to thinking about what’s been on mind. I’m a pretty heavy news reader. The Gosnell trial was on my mind a lot before the Boston Marathon bombing. That might account for the first half of the dream, most of which I can’t remember. The shrapnel tearing apart the walls could have been from descriptions of the Boston Marathon bombers packing shrapnel into their bombs. The men with bayonets, well, after a Muslim terrorist act, naturally, I start thinking about extremist Muslims, or whatever the politically correct term for them is these days.

I don’t think I’ve ever been able to track a violent dream directly to what’s been on my mind as closely as this before.

America Gives Up

I like Marco Rubio. Even though it’s been years since I’ve last worked with a Muslim, I liked my Muslim co-worker, a nice polite man from Nigeria. But it seems like if I were to say anything about Rubio’s immigration plan, or whether or not I thought The United States had a vested interest in limiting the number of Muslims who were allowed to immigrate to the U.S., well, shun that nonsense. I can only venture the reasons: “we need the Muslim vote”, (no, we don’t. In fact, if Muslim faith is where terrorists come from, we should want *less* of their votes). “You hate Muslims”, (no, I don’t. I hate the ideology that leads to more terrorist acts on Earth than any other ideology I can name).

Meanwhile, I think the whole immigration reform business now being considered is America giving up. We can’t control who becomes a citizen, it seems they’re saying, so anyone can.

Felony Murder Doctrine – link dump.

Hell, running over his brother while police were arresting him seems like there’s a limitless number of things to charge him with: extreme tampering with evidence, (his brother likely had evidence), oh, whatever.

Anyway,  “When amateurs like yourself opine on criminal law matters, it shows.” But sometimes amateurs get sucked into legal matters where no lawyer can seem to come up with the correct combination. In a way, lawyering can be one profession where it’s best *not* to leave it entirely in the hands of the professionals.

Miranda And Me

I don’t know if I’ve ever wrote about the routine (I thought) traffic stop that eventually led to me relocating from Michigan. I sure don’t feel like writing about it right now. It turns out that something being discussed in the news may be directly related to charges against me back in 1998, that I eventually was able to get plea bargained to a misdemeanor. I squared away with all of the legal moneygrabbers, and got the hell out of my home state. It frickin’ sucked big time.

After college, I moved from New Mexico, I packed all of my worldly possessions in my van, including my father’s WWII trench knife issued to him in the war. During a traffic stop, I agreed to let the officer search my van. I had, I thought, nothing to hide. When he found my father’s knife, he put me in handcuffs and the back of the patrol car, and continued to search the van. He came back breathlessly a few minutes later, “what’s in the tube?” I explained that it was a hard wax covered cardboard tube that I kept my aluminum arrows in. At some point, he alluded to “oh, well, with Timothy McVeigh…” or something. Don’t remember exact words. The traffic stop was in 1998, so it was only 3 years after.

Anyway, I was charged with a felony carrying a concealed weapon for my father’s knife, because it “was within reach of the driver”. After spending a few thousand miles on the road between checking out grad school, and moving back to Michigan, I never removed it. Yeah, it was a mistake to leave it in the van, but, I was renting a small basement room, I never did fully unload the van in the short time I lived there after graduation.

It was a long, drawn out court case from my perspective. I had to pay public defenders who never showed up to hearings, I had to pay court costs, I had to shop for lawyers, and pay for every court case. I finally decided if I could get the felony reduced to a misdemeanor, I’d take the plea bargain. So I stood before a judge and pled guilty to possession of  a switchblade. The judge asked “did you have a switchblade?” “No, your honour, I did not.” “Well, you shouldn’t be pleading guilty.” “Well, your Honour,”  I gestured toward my lawyer, “I can’t afford to keep paying this guy.”

I didn’t enjoy re-recollecting that for the umpteenth time. But here we are 15 years later, and people are discussing the Boston Marathon Bomber case, and people are discussing the Miranda issue, which is something I repeatedly asked my lawyers about, since at no time during my arrest was it mentioned. So today I learn of the Public Safety Exception. I still don’t fully understand, but the explanation at Volkh Conspiracy is the closest I’ve come to understanding why it didn’t matter. Apparently because they found something during the search I agreed to, it didn’t matter whether I was read Miranda, or not.

Now, I left out an important detail, I forgot to mention. My New Mexico license plates still had valid tags on it. The officer asked me how long I’d been living in Michigan, and it was over however many weeks before you are supposed to change your license plate. So, that was his basis for searching my van, which I fully consented to, not thinking I’d done anything wrong other than trying to squeeze a few months out of buying a license plate. Because I willingly answered his question truthfully, he apparently had a confession to a crime and therefore didn’t need anything else to search my van, probably cause, or whatever.

For whatever reason, I got screwed by an over-excited rookie cop. When I got out of jail the next morning and picked up my van from the impound, the interior had been totally ripped apart, doghouse over the engine taken off, etc. looking for who knows what.

Anyway, here’s the Volkh article that at least got me to understand one little piece of that majorly fucked up event in my life.

We Are Voracious Information Consumers

After years of hearing the praises of the internet in world breaking news, I think the Boston Manhunt has cleared up the skepticism I’ve long held. The internet can be the most juvenile place outside of a junior high, or middle school as they’re now called, as is likely to be found.

But we’re addicted to the breaking news, to be on top of things. And as these events often have policy implications depending on the coverage, we sometimes feel a vested interest in how the story is told. When Tillerman was shot, Leftists cried out for censorship. After Sandy Hook, they cried out for gun control. The speculation and accusations fly. It’s disturbing, because when the coverage ends up leading to major policy initiatives, we want our voices heard.

It can be unhealthy, if you don’t have anything else to take your mind off of it.