A 'scienterifical' study of cop evilness.

Once upon a time, I thought policemen were the cat’s meow. They were awesome in their pockety pants with their bad-ass swagger, all those tazery implements of torture they get to use, and the license to speed like demons in powerful vehicles... Yeah. They were cool. WERE. My opinion has been strongly influenced towards the negative since I’ve moved to Oregon. In New Hampshire, I had friends who were cops and they were cool & stuff. I've discovered that I don't find cops quite so likeable here in Oregon. Why? Because I’ve discovered that Oregon cops are evil. And after a lot of dogged, 'legitimate' research and data crunching, I think I’ve discovered the fundamental reasons why this is.

Well, the statistics speak for themselves.  The reason comes down to these simple statistics to start:

Police per-capita in New Hampshire: ~ 2.2 officers per 1,000 people ~ 2,900 cops.
Population: 1,300,000
Persons per square mile: 139.0
46th largest state in the country. 9,351 square miles.
= cops that are somewhat affable and who know people.

Police per-capita in Oregon. ~ 1.5 officers per 1,000 people. ~ 5,700 cops
Population: 3,800,000
Persons per square mile: 38.6
9th largest state in the country; 98,386 square miles.
= uniforms full of concentrated evil.

Summarizing just those statistics alone, you can see that in Oregon, there are 2.9 times the number of people than there are in NH. There are only 2 times the number of police than NH, oddly. And Oregon is about 10.5 times the size of NH. Add in the rain half the year and the crappy roads and I’m thinking I can see why these overworked, tired-of-driving all over hell guys are 100% evil.

A 'scientific' study of the distribution of Police officers around the respective states:



Similar distribution patterns emerge.
Outlying communities, you're on your own! 
Incoming out of state traffic... Look out.

 NH Police, general daily cases and challenges:

• College kids using pot.
• Disturbance at Dunkin’ Donuts.
• Lost pets and seniors.
• Speeders.
• Directing traffic around construction sites.
• Directing traffic at the pumpkin festivals.
• Moose-car collisions.
• Massachusetts drivers.

Oregon Police, general daily cases and challenges:

• Meth labs.
• Pot growers.
• Heavily armed hoarders.
• People on shooting sprees
• Landslides and fallen trees
• Recovery of hikers/climbers/Californians lost in the wilderness.
• Speeders.
• Unlit highways
• Catastrophic car crashes with fatalities and sometimes involving wildlife.
• Rampant drug-related homocide.
• Bears and cougars
• This guy:

• Domestic violence calls involving weapons.
• Californian drivers.
• Washington drivers.
• Granolas driving Subarus.

Crime rate comparison using 2009 data:

		Violence	Property	Murder	Rape	Robbery	Aggravated Assault	Burglary	Larceny Theft	Vehicle Theft
NH		30,738	28,624	10	400	455	1,249	4,928	22,572	1,124
OR		123,255	113,511	85	1,168	2,461	6,030	19,377	84,265	9,869

.... further proof that Oregon cops might have good reason for being major jerks when dealing with the public.  I mean, let's consider that there aren't even 2x the number of cops in OR that there are in NH... and look at the disparities between the volume of crimes committed in each state. And we're not even talking emergencies like floods and rescues and all that other crud, or are we even looking at traffic infractions... we're just talking full-on crime here.

Other factors contributing to general cop grumpiness in Oregon:

NH: 1 Dunkin Donuts at least every square mile in densely populated areas, and at least one in pretty much every town.
OR: Only a few Krispy-Kremes in the whole state, and a general lack of any other nearby donut franchises or shops.

NH: Cop shoots skeevy guy who looks like he's reaching for a weapon in an elevated situation. Guy shouldn't have reached into his pocket screaming 'I have a gun!' RIP--natural selection. End of story.
OR: Cop shoots skeevy guy who looks like he's reaching for a weapon in an elevated situation.  Public becomes outraged because cop isn't clairevoyant or able to diagnose mental illness on-the-spot. Cop is fired.

No Excuse:
Morally, none of them should be jerks at all when they get to drive *this* bad-assness every day.

Yeah, high-speed chases and such are dangerous and scary.. but Hello.... CHARGER! Charger with crash-bars and low-profile LED lights and kickass hawtness. Of course, the real evil cops might be the ones freezing on the motorcycles, or the ones stuck driving the old Crown Vics and SUVs. If that were the case. I'd be really pissy too.

THEREFORE: Oregon cops *are* evil.  But I probably would be too if I did their job. AND I'd be forced to wear polyester... which that in and of itself can induce homocidal tendencies. 

Today is also St. Nicolas's day.  YAY! I miss that very much.  

Stunning Art

Humbled by true talent. ::sigh::

Thought of You from Ryan Woodward on Vimeo.

Second Wind from Ian Worrel on Vimeo.

A bit star-struck still....

Yesterday, I decided to hit my favourite fabric store; Mill End Store.  This store is not a large chain, there are two stores, one in Beaverton and one about about two miles from my office; which makes it DANGEROUS.  I go there on my lunch sometimes if I need something.  I wanted to get some duck and other cottons for my transitional stays project, which I plan to attack this weekend, so I zipped out, and stopped there during my lunch hour. They have a really great selection of stuff. It attracts lots of area designers.  When Leanne Marshal of Project Runway won the show, I actually saw her there shopping in notions shortly after the show ended; she then moved to New York afterwards.  Well yesterday, I was bee-lining towards silk taffetta and guess who I saw there?

Seth Aaron Henderson Season 7 Project Runway WINNER! OMFG SQUEE!

He is SO adorable!  And he was having some seriously beautiful fabric measured out.  He is really nice, and was happy to answer my random questions and allow me to snap this picture of him. I'm such a dork.  Project Runway is among my guilty pleasures. I secretly want to steal Tim Gunn and fuss over him and bake him treats.  What I love about the show is that it is one of the few reality shows that requires ACTUAL TALENT to win.  I love it.  I told Seth Aaron I was so pleased that Portland area designers are kicking ass on the show, and that I was happy to see another Portlander on this new season. He told me he was included in the casting process and helped select her for the show. :)

Anyway... /gushing... Back to reality! LOL.

How did my purging go, you wonder? Well, honestly, it looks like we didn't make a dent.  But there is a significant pile in the second bedroom that shows that we did.  I got rid of A LOT of stuff; linens, chochkes, I'm also putting my Beacon Hill dollhouse up for sale (but I won't Goodwill it if someone doesn't take it), and a whole slough of other things. I'm so excited for the sale.  We will be at Mount Hood Village Resort on Saturday starting at 8AM.  There will be other sellers there, and our fire department is having a sale too up the road so maybe if you're an Oregonian, and you're up for a bit of a drive, you could make a day of it. ;)

Here is a horrid drawing I did while on a long phonecall yesterday. It's bad, and the colouring is way worse. But I haven't had a lot of time to play with details; especially since I spent so much of my lunch-hour browsing fabric and ogling Project Runway winners.

Owl and Pussycat in a pea-green boat.

Anyway... Have a lovely Thursday. I am going home to make waffles for my coworker. :)

Letting go is, simply put, not anything close to moving on...

My dad, crawling with dogs.

My father passed away less than two hours ago. Seeing how horrible he looked these past few days, I have a strange sense of relief for him--even through the painful ache of tears pressing on my eyes as I try to keep it together long enough to tell family and help make arrangements.

Last week, when I was sitting in his hospital room, I decided to write down the things I loved most about him. Here they are... it's not even close to summarizing who my father was... but it is a start. I have to go now.

• Whenever he got excited about something, his bushy brows would arch up, his eyes would glisten and he’d wring his hands in delight.
• His laughter was ebullient and raucous.
• When he talked about flying, he could barely contain his passion. It would simmer just below the surface as he described the experience. On commercial flights, an unconscious grin would spread across his face on takeoff, and he always leaned into it with bright eyes.
• His hands, knuckly and dexterous, always moved with a mechanical precision when he was working on something.
• Methodical and precise, he did nothing without thorough process and analysis. I often wonder how I came from that, because I am as fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants as they come.
• He built HeathKits and other tech. I would sit with him on ‘doodad-duty’ separating all the little tiny resistors by colour and handing him each appropriate one as needed. The smell of solder always brings thoughts of Daddy to me.
• His affection was awkward and harumphy, but it was there nonetheless.
• He loved chess and technology; he liked to watch boring things like C-Span and Snooker—and he hated Fox News with a passion—saying it was drivel for the ignorant. He loved to fly; and missed it a lot. He would play the Microsoft Flight Simulator, and also played a simulated air tower control game. He spent hours on the HAM radio every weekend rattling away in Hungarian to his circle of friends all over the country—the transmissions interfering with phone and TV; infuriating everyone. He also loved Links LS golf.
• He played a number of brass instruments very badly—accompanied by howling dogs. His passion for music frustrated him; because he never could play as beautifully as he wished he could.
• His whistle was amazing; a powerful trill, always perfectly on key, with vibrato.
• He ate apples as if they were ambrosia of the gods. He devoured every bit of it, except the stem. The seeds, he would set aside as he ate, and when the apple was gone, he’d carefully strip the seeds of their papery shell, and nibble each seed with relish.
• He always protested about being served too much food—but his plate was always spotless in the end.
• He loved crunchy things—and he passed this onto us; making crunchy-nabbing a competitive sport in our household.
• A gift of pistachios would last forever… he’d winnow the ferreted stash down 5-6 nuts at a time.
• He was a notorious book thief. You could never leave a book anywhere, even if you were in the middle of reading it, because it would vanish, and you’d discover him three chapters in and unwilling to relinquish it until he was done.
• He loved British humour. Fawlty Towers, Monty Python, Not The Nine-O’Clock’News; he also loved James Herriot books, and I, Claudius and other BBC dramas. We spent a lot of time watching BBC 1 and Open University on BBC2.
• He ate bread with just about everything, even fruit.
• His sweet tooth was one to be rivaled. He loved cake.
• He would eat in snippets, all day, roving and munching, crinkling plastic and eating off of dessert plates.
• He loved classical music, and hence we all do now.
• Loved BBC World Radio and NPR.
• Could hold a conversation in Morse code.
• Was an excellent driver.
• He shuffled in his slippers.
• He could beat the computer at chess.
• His eyes would well up when he heard the Hungarian Anthem.
• Was a tremendous skier. He was skiing on Mount Hood when he was 72. He had these super-long skis and his trademark orange boots… whenever he came to visit Oregon, they were duly packaged up and hauled along, because he could never come to Oregon without hitting the Mile.
• Wrote computer programs and applications well into his seventies. Was an avid computer geek, something he and I shared for years.
• Looked at the world through the eyes of an engineer. Meticulous problem solver.
• Extremely intelligent; almost to a fault.
• Always homesick for Hungary.

Istvan P. Peteranecz

March 8, 1930 – May 5, 2010

Goodbye Daddy. I miss you.

Some Debbie-Downer Randomness.

Kris's Dragon

I drew this dragon for my coworker Kris last year. It's a birthday card. I put that quote about dragons and ketchup on there too. She liked it. She likes dragons, and I do too. I used to do so much fantasy art, more often than not back when. It seems I've moved away from that on the most part now. Gone for more 'innocent' things...



I did a lot art on the computer when I figured out how awesome photo-editing software was. I can't say I'm especially good at it, I'm not. I never had formal training, I've always learned software simply by using it. I started with Aldus Photostyler... which is like the predecessor to Photoshop and was very much like Photoshop is today; with many of the same tools and capabilities. It was amazing software for its time. Aldus also made PageMaker back then too; but Adobe bought it and eventually turned it into InDesign. I love graphic software. I'm addicted to it. I've been putting the upgrades on my birthday/Christmas list for the past three years, but I'm afraid nobody is picking those for me. ::sniff::.

These images are pretty old. The destrier is from 1995; one of my first images that went from an original drawing, to be scanned and turned into digital art. I wonder if I still have to original somewhere. It was coloured pencil and pencil. I remember drawing it at my Aunt's house in Puerto Rico on a quiet afternoon after a session of lizard-chasing. I remember I was sweltering and my paper puckered from the moisture on my arm. I was visiting my closest and adorable cousin Tom in PR. He died of ALS (Lou Gherig's Disease) in December of 2002; only a week after I'd arrived in Oregon where he now lived. What an awful time. I always think of his sweet face and his massive boat-feet when I look at my Destrier. I remember he was really impressed that I'd drawn that freehand. He then passed out on the sofa in his shorts. That same night we went and made a bonfire on the beach, and floated in the warm ocean for hours. He lost his keys in the caribbean and we had to ride in the back of a pickup home at dawn.

He admired me for never treating him differently when he became ill and subsequently deteriorated. I wrote a little mini-story about him and it got published.

Normalcy
(retitled Normality by our British friends who published it)

People exchange poignant glances around him. They bite back their tears with trembling lips, and they speak softly to him. Their tones are as if they are speaking to a child, catering to him, patronizing him. They are creating a carpet of eggshells.

He sits in his sofa; his hands atrophied and curled up against his chest, his large, ungainly feet motionless. His unassuming brown eyes take it all in with incredible tolerance. His muscles may be dying, but his brain is as sharp as it was before the sickness took hold of him.

He makes a crack at my braids, calling me "Heidi", yodelling badly. I threaten to shave curse words into his hair if he doesn't knock it off. I take advantage of his immobility to give him a good poke in the ribs. He grins clumsily, eyes glistening. I've never seen anyone happy to be bullied before.

The good thing is that it's Friday.

OMG, these past two days have been insane. Wednesday, I discovered that my vehicle had a coolant leak. So, I left work an hour early to get my car to my local garage to fix it. The owner of the garage is a REALLY great guy named Chris (Mt. Hood Auto & Tire). He offered me a free loaner-car, because he knew that I had a hellish commute and a job to go to, and since Hubby's Jeep is under the weather too, I can't drive it.

So I dropped my car off after work on Wednesday, and the owner gave me a 1998 Mazda MPV with 228,000 miles on it. It's a good car, he said. It drove to Seattle and back only recently. So all I had to do was to bring it back this afternoon with gas in it. It worked like a dream Thursday.

This morning, just barely off the mountain, on Rt. 26 when all of a sudden all the dashlights turn on. Check engine, airbag, oil temp, you name it. The radio also cuts off for a second. So I start looking for somewhere to pull over, figuring something is about to happen. I pull off into the parking lot of a place called Calamity Jane's, and the whole car just turns off. It's not even 7:00 AM. It's freezing. I call work to tell them that my loaner vehicle has just broken down, and then leave a message with Chris. "Hey Chris, I'm at Calamity Jane's and I don't think this Minivan likes me very much. I think I made minivan and soccer-mom jokes one too many times yesterday."

I called AAA, who told me Purdy's was going to come and get me. They were; no lie, diagonally across the street from where I was broken down. However, the truck was at home with the driver. He finally gets to the office at 8:15; he goes inside to do something, and then crosses the street, arriving at 8:25. My toes feel like little ice-cubes. He is kind enough to tell me to get into the cab, where I crank the heat up to broil, and bask for a while.

8:50; we pull into the Mt. Hood Auto, and all four guys who work there including the owner come outside to apologize and share in the humour of the situation. I spy my poor Jeep, its hood agape, bits of its motor on the fenders and resting on the ground. Poor baby! The guy working on it wants to show me what he's doing, and Chris comes in and says to me:

"Stephanie, I'm so sorry. Please take my car to work, you need to get down there."

The guy gave me his personal vehicle so I could commute to work and get my job done. Wow. I felt terrible, and so did he. So the guy working on my car engages me a minute or two more, and I come out and my training books and CD cases have been transferred into his black 4Runner; his keys taken off his chain and added to mine. Yes, the Toyota logo looks wrong on my Jeepy key chain, but frankly, I'm so glad it's there.

Every once in a while the small gestures make the biggest impressions. Chris is my hero. I will take my car there any day now.

I got to work at 10:00. I'm leaving early to insure 1) that Chris gets his 4Runner back in one piece and 2) that I get my Jeepy-Jeep back in one piece. I'm so lucky I have a job where this stuff can happen and things can be flexible.

So despite the stress, it's still a Happy Friday; however I'm afraid I have no office special drawing for you today. I have to finish my work on this shortened day.

Happy Friday all. :)

Farewell Tony Hillerman.

Tony Hillerman was born in Sacred Heart, OK on May 27, 1925. He was the youngest of three children, having an older brother and sister. His father, August A. Hillerman, was a storekeeper and farmer. His mother was Lucy Grove Hillerman.

He attended school from 1930-38 at St. Mary's Academy, a boarding school for Native American girls at Sacred Heart. He was one of several farm boys enrolled there. Sacred Heart was near a Benedictine mission to the Citizen Band Potowatomie Tribe. For high school, he was bused to Konawa High School. He graduated in 1942. He returned to farming after a brief sojourn to college and after his father's death.
In 1943, he joined the U. S. Army, serving in combat in World War II. He was awarded the Silver Star, the Bronze Star with Oak Leaf Cluster, and the Purple Heart after being wounded in 1945. (These injuries included broken legs, foot, ankle, facial burns, and temporary blindness.) He was discharged in 1945.

After the war, he attended the University of Oklahoma, receiving a B. A. in 1948.
He married Marie Unzner in 1948, to whom he is still married. They have six grown children.

From 1948-1962, he worked in a variety of journalist positions. He was a reporter for the Borger News Herald in Borger, TX (1948), city editor for the Morning Press-Constitution in Lawton, OK (1948-50), political reporter for UPI in Oklahoma City (1950-52), UPI bureau manager in Santa Fe, NM (1952-4), political reporter and then, editor for the Santa Fe New Mexican (1954-63).

In 1963, he returned to graduate school in English at the University of New Mexico. He was an assistant to the University president at the same time. He joined the journalism faculty of UNM in 1966 after receiving his M.A. He taught there until 1987, serving as department chair from 1976-81.

Although he says he feels great for the shape he's in, his health has been a concern. He told PBS in 1996, " I am 71, have now-and-then rhematic arthritis but now very badly, have in-remission cancer, have had a minor heart attack, have one mediocre eye, one tricky ankle and two unreliable knees due to being blown up in WWII. "

His memoirs were published in October, 2001. It won the Agatha Award for Best Non-Fiction.

Tony passed away in a NM hospital on October 26, 2008.

Biography courtesy of University of Missouri - St. Louis

His Navajo Mysteries

• The Shape Shifters. New York: HarperCollins, 2006.
• Skeleton Man. New York: HarperCollins, 2004.
• The Sinister Pig. New York: HarperCollins, 2003.
• The Wailing Wind. New York: HarperCollins, 2002.
• Hunting Badger. New York: Harper, 1999
• The First Eagle. New York: Harper,1998.
• The Fallen Man. New York: Harper,1997.
• Sacred Clowns. New York: Harper,1993.
• Coyote Waits. New York: Harper,1990.
• Talking God. New York: Harper,1989.
• A Thief of Time. New York: Harper,1988.
• Skinwalkers. New York: Harper,1986. Reprinted 1987. Bestseller List, 1986. This book won the Western Writers of America Spur Award in 1986.
• The Ghost Way. New York: Harper, 1984. Reprinted 1986.
• The Dark Wind. New York: Harper, 1982. Reprinted 1983.
• People of the Darkness. New York: Harper, 1980. Reprinted 1982.
• Listening Woman. New York: Harper, 1978. Reprinted 1979.
• Dance Hall of the Dead. New York: Harper, 1973. Reprinted in 1975. MWA Edgar Allen Poe Award for the Best Mystery Novel of the West, 1973.
• The Blessing Way. New York: Harper, 1970. Reprinted in 1978. This book was a finalist for the Best First Novel Edgar Allen Poe Award.
  

A complete list of his works can be found here.

A touching discovery...

This morning, I was googling an image for my post. I wanted to find an appropriate image that would encapsulate my sentiments of watching my husband leave for his field-job which will keep him away from me for 6 weeks at a time. As I browsed the images, I stumbled upon this website:

http://www.chrisjohn.org/

It is a website I haven't been able to close all day. I've been at work since 5:30, and I've been doing paperwork, and taking brief breaks to read the website. Before you click the link, be warned... it's addictive.

Christopher John O'Connell Cocorochio is a young man who has for about a decade, been traveling on foot and by many other means, scraping by with odd jobs to keep himself and his dog Job fed as he journeys on itchy feet all over the country and the world. He started in New England, and has walked through a number of states, touching people's lives, documenting these moments on his spartan website. There are a few poignant images that capture his travels, and narratives that bring you through his joy and his heartache, and he names the people who've reached out to help him and Job. He had been taking footage of his travels in the hopes of creating a documentary. Now he's working on a book. His latest entries bring him through Oregon and into Northern California. He had stayed a while in Astoria.

You follow him from the beginning, when he decides to drop his workaday life; and chooses the road. He begins with his old dog Bandit and continues on now with his new road companion, Job. It is a tremendous tale in these few web-pages. Too big a story almost; with little gaps that leave you wanting.

Why does he do this? In his words:

"To protect the only thing I've ever been able to count on...

Growing up I was told:
~ pollution we are creating is poisoning the atmosphere creating acid rain which kills plants and vegetables.
~ chemicals found in aerosol cans are causing a whole in the ozone layer, a part of the earth's atmosphere that allows life to exist on the planet.the world's rainforests which provide a major portion of the oxygen in the air that we breath are being cut down at a rate of something like an acre a minute.
~ our president lied under oath.
~ nuclear weapons that we and other countries posses could blow up the planet several times over.the greatest cause to all global and social problems human beings face is our uncontrollable population growth.
~ the United States makes up something like 18% of the world's population, yet we consume 60% of it's resources.
~ nuclear power plants create radioactive waste that is extremely poisonous to humans and all life forms and will be for thousands and thousands of years so we bury it deep underground.
~ cars, trucks, factories and oil burning furnaces used to heat most homes pollute our atmosphere making sunlight harmful to humans causing skin cancer while at the same time altering the global climate causing unpredictable and catastrophic weather conditions.
~ the global oil shortage is causing international conflict and war killing thousands of soldiers and innocent civilians.This list could continue, but it's too negative to continue with.

As I was becoming an adult I saw none of these issues being addressed or even being taken seriously, (oh wait, I think we fixed the aerosol can thing.) yet I was suppose to forget all this and drive a car, get a job, make money, buy a house, get married, have some kids, let them learn all the same stuff then expect them to forget it all, too. And, adults wonder why our youth are so disenchanted.

If being dependent on electricty can harm people that aren't even born yet then I won't be dependent on it.
If being unable to live without a car causes war and pollution then I'll live without one.
If making money our number one prioroty keeps us divided then I won't make it mine.

....the earth.

Whatever his motives are; be it as simple as what he has listed there, or be there reasons beyond that; things to run to or from, things to seek, to hide; perhaps he feels that he alone sees the state of the world, and that he must do this on behalf of the rest of us; all that aside, I cannot but see how brave he is. How pure a soul to simply cast off the things we all think are so important, to do it with dignity; to have his pride and allow himself to be perceived as something other than what a really noble creature he is.



And most of all, he's taking care of his dog Job, which that alone, speaks volumes about the man's character.


In this time he's lost Bandit, his mother and friends. He's been there when it counted but he can never be still for long. Like the wing-footed Hermes, he takes to the wind, carrying his message to complete strangers. Where will he end up? Will he ever find the peace within to stop at last? Who knows. All I know is that I find so much depth in his story. So much loving and joyful and tragic things.

It sort of put my whole morning into perspective. My husband took a job away from our small family so we could have a home and some means of comfort... and Chris John has shucked it all to find some peace with himself. It makes me think. Is it all worth the stress and pain?

Stephan Pastis is my hero.

I confess I'm addicted to "Pearls Before Swine". This cartoon has exceeded the highest benchmarks of cuteness known to man. From the inept crocs to the militant duck, there isn't a character I don't adore.

I hereby proclaim my adoration for this strip and for the ex-attorney that creates it. There's a rat that reminds me too much of myself, a sweet, clueless pig you can't help loving, the packs of crocs which apparently if they are adult males, acquire a strange speech impediment/accent, a duck that likes rocket launchers, lions who enjoy the benefit of hardworking wives, a teen croc and 'zeeba' that fall in love, and so much more.

It's clever, it's relevant, and god damn if it isn't cute as hell.

I tend to email the author frequently with annoying comments. For instance, I was so shocked by his recent decision to vilify the seemingly adorable and harmless (except to Crocs) kitten-katten "Snuffles", that I sent him an email to inform him of my astonishment. He's an affable, nice guy.

Thanks Stephan. :) I love your work.