Bats Attack!!!!

Well, as the single digit temps descended over Iowa, the bat problem is striking again. And again, it is the terrorists' favorite target, the Hoyt Sherman Place. This old mansion seems to be a clearinghouse of nooks and crannies for bats to hide out. And every now and then, they take a few flights in front of the motion detectors, which means I get called to go see what the hell is going on. As usual, I call up my supervisor and make him go there with me. The place is too creepy at night to not have someone there to hold your hand.

This time, we get there, I turn off the alarm system, and no sooner than I hit the lights in the lobby area, the winged terrorist comes flying at us, unleashing the possibility of a rabies-laden attack upon the Mookist general, and his compadre. It's time to go to work eliminating these terrorist sumbitches. Last night,, we were armed with the most primitive of weaponry, the dreaded orange cones (think traffic cones). We finally convinced this monstrous and EFFING HUGE bat to roost in his normal terrorist-trained upside down position at the top of a door across the room. I wheeled around to the left with my cone and my GI Joe-like ninja skills avoiding the bats detection, while my supervisor Casey held the middle ground to the entry vestibule in check. A quick toss, and BAT DOWN, BAT DOWN!!! We placed the cone over him, and I moved to go write up the alarm response sheet at a nearby desk. The bat was sliding underneath the cone towards the door he had previously hung from, trying to escape underneath the locked door that I did not possess a key for. WE stopped him as he was 3/4 of the way through in his backstroke maneuver to freedom. The next step was to fully retrieve the little rat faced bastard from underneath the door. Ever cautious of possible rabies infections from bites or scratches, we searched for something to get a grip on the terrorist and bring him back into the light and under our guard. (The next moment gets a bit gruesome, so weak stomached people stop reading here, and go to your happy place.)

Casey did NOT hand me his pocketknife, and I did NOT use it to stab the winged terrorist in a pinning hold to drag him out. Right after we did NOT do those things, I hear Casey yell out some unsavory words, and mentioned something about another bat. Apparently our NOT piercing the first terrorists skin did NOT release pheromones and a rescue signal to his terrorist partner, who then began to dive bomb us all over the lobby. We placed a nicely weighted bucket over Bat #1, grabbed our cones, and proceeded to go after the 2nd insurgent. After a few strafing runs, the 2nd bat went up the stairwell to the main theater entry hall, strafed us a couple more times, then went up another level, where we lost him in the dark.

We were both disappointed in that result. 1- We enjoy the bat calls, as they are one of the most exciting, and scary moments on the job. 2- We don't necessarily want to be called back if another bat sets off the alarm system, which takes time away from our other duties. And 3- Losing a live terrorist only serves to degradate our reputation as elite rentacops turned combat commandos.

Surely we will be back again, as these winged marauders will start trouble again, trying to dissuade us of our nightly missions, and cause us to give up and go home, allowing the terrorists to claim victory over rentacops and more notably, the Mookist forces. WE will never EVER give in to these terrorists if it takes our entire lifetime to rid our alarm response accounts of these rabies-harboring little (and sometimes not so little) rat-faced bastards. WE intend to NOT kill them all, because killing them would be considered illegal, depending on the species anyways, and I'm no bat-ologist (yes this is a technical term meaning studier of bats), so I can't tell which ones are fair game or not. All I'm saying is if they just happen to have sudden cardiac arrest at the exact moment they tangle with us, well, that's either God or Darwin speaking.

10 Years Later....

Really Beautiful Wife, Or 12th Russian Spy Confirmed

Ten years ago today was the day my status went up in this world. I married my wife, which infinitely improved my life. On a facebook post I made earlier today to the same effect, she commented that it was the second semi-public sweet thing I've done/said within the last week. To be honest I'm not sure I remember what the first one was, but I wasn't about to ask her right then. She'll read this and then inform me of whatever it was, maybe. In the same breath/typing she wondered if I had been dropped on my head or something recently. I've informed her that she has the rest of her life to be confused about when I've fallen on my cranium and when I'm just being her usual suspect.

While she was preparing for work, our youngest was messing with her hat on the couch. The same hat on her head in this picture, and the same hat I blogged about previously in which I have identified it as her "commie hat". She told me to quit calling it that, when I identified it as such to Corwyn. I stated as matter-of-factly as usual that I call it that because that's what it is. I mean c'mon! Look at it! Standard Communist Revolutionary Headgear! I've seen footage from Cuba, and other central and South American communist revolutionary periods in which this very kind of hat was quite prominently worn by those who felt oppression of the masses, in the name of the masses was far better than a more possibly freedom-inducing environment. I also mentioned that I may have found an undiscovered 12th member of the Russian spy ring, recently uncovered by the FBI.

Her Response? "Why do you say that? Am I THAT hot?" Now to the untrained eye, this merely seems like a woman baiting a guy for a compliment. But for a professional Rent-A-Cop like myself, this was a veiled confession. I responded with some random psychobabble to avoid her catching on that I knew about her secret identity. And then I took this picture. She asked why. I said I might need it for a blog. She was rightly suspicious of me and my blogging intentions. However, she had to go to work, and didn't have time to delete the picture hastily, in order to keep from having her cover blown. Well, it's too late, and right here, in front of the world (or at least my 8 or 9 readers), I am shedding the light on more undercover spy agents in our midst! The media made light of the attractiveness of one of the Russian spies, but my wife is likely to make that one look like a big pile of dog mess in comparison.

I find myself confused at this moment. I am feeling inordinately patriotic having uncovered this plot against not only my country, but the Mookified compound itself. At the same time, I don't know how I missed it. She has no accent and speaks absolutely zero Russian as far as I can tell. She clearly was deep undercover. She convinced her mother that she came from her, and has blended in with family very nicely. Almost as if, she had been one of them since birth. Brainwashing must have occurred at a highly secret Soviet-era facility to unknowingly bring her whole family into the fold. Then in a move that could only be conjured up by remnants of the KGB, she infiltrated my life, made me fall in love with her, marry her and have two sons with her. She speaks as though down home conservative hate mongering is her native language, yet she pretends to detest talk radio.

However, her espionatic (I'm pretty sure I made that word up, but please feel free to use it openly and spread it around) ways were not enough to keep her subconscious need for comrade wear buried away forever. And she doesn't mind vodka on occasion. Maybe that was the giveaway. In my America-loving opinion, only hard core alcoholics (which my wife is not) and commies (I'm beginning to question things here)can really and truly enjoy a nasty concoction made from potatoes such as Vodka! BLECH!

Now I have read reports that the other 11 haven't been charged or suspected of any real espionage. However, the possible finding of the 12th Commie (not to be confused with the 12th Imam), squarely embedded within the Mookist Compound? Clearly the idea that high-level espionage has been occurring has to be considered. After all, with all the wealth of knowledge and power that resides with the Mook and his trusty sidekick, Colonel B.S. Lovell, mining the information that lies within these walls and turning it over to Russia could be detrimental not only to the General and his people, but to the world at large! You think the worldwide economic meltdown was horrendous, or the BP gulf oil spill insanely dangerous? Just wait and see what happens if my wife gets away with this.

I just remembered something vitally important. She'll read this before coming home. By the time you read this I may be dead, from her dispatching a secret assassination squad, or be transported to a secret gulag somewhere in the remote regions of Siberia. Not only then will Russia keep her secret safe, but the anti-Mookist forces out there will gain an even stronger foothold, which is equally bad, if not worse.

Of course, despite all that, I'll still technically be able to lay claim to having a really hot wife!

The Blessed Curse of Being Unknown

For most of my life I have had a dual mentality. I love to be complimented, and at the exact same time I hate it. I also like being recognized, while also hating that simultaneously as well. Well last night, I hear from my supervisor just how recognized I'm not.

(Now, for full disclosure here, I don't really care in the end. I just don't mind bitching about overall meaningless shit that happens in my life. If you haven't figured that out yet, or don't believe me, ask my wife. She'll confirm it.)

The other night, after coming out of a building downtown, my supervisor and I notice a confrontation taking place a block up between a hotel security guard from another company and a homeless guy. It starts out verbally, and the next thing we know punches are being thrown. I look at my supervisor and ask if he wants to join the party. So we immediately head that way, but after a quick exchange the homeless guy goes taking off around the corner away from us and the hotel. Directly across the street stands a group of cleaners who had to have watched the whole ordeal, but "none of them saw anything." Of course we made sure the security guard was alright, and stood by ready to be his witnesses. Des Moines' finest arrived pretty quickly, got a quick description and direction of travel and went off to find the homeless guy. They swung back around within a couple minutes and picked up the hotel guy to go identify the perp. Solid ID was made and the guy taken to jail. The cops came back with the security guard and took down information from my supervisor and myself. No big deal.

However last night, my supervisor tells me our office received an email from the hotel. They wanted to extend their thanks for our part in as they put it: taking care of one of our own. Apparently all of us rentacops have our own brotherhood that I wasn't aware of until reading this email. In the email it said, and I quote: Two of your officers (Casey & an unknown)were leaving the Hub Tower and noticed the situation getting a little hostile.

Now, I'm the one guy with a name tag pinned on my chest, the police took down my info including name and all that, and it was my suggestion to go get involved in the situation, and I'm an unknown. That's just great! The letter goes on to say: I just wanted to make sure these gentlemen were noted as taking an extra initiative... This speaks highly of yourself and your officers in the eyes of the [Hotel name redacted]

Well now. That's fantastic. My supervisor Casey, and whoever the hell they figure on placing in the Unknown's slot, now have special regard for "their" initiative in assisting a fellow security officer. Damn supervisors hogging all the spotlight while relegating his underling to status of "YOU, whatever your name is...go do this for me!" What a high horse self important bastard, he is! (Casey, I know you're reading this...I still love you! Stew put me up to this...right after I mentioned blogging the crap out of it!)

You know, as much as I may like and hate a compliment or recognition, a backward compliment has got to be, by far, the worst kind of compliment to receive. It's like there's a committee doling out awards.

"And we'd like to confer special recognition, for all his hard work and extra efforts to...NOBODY!" The music plays, the crowd claps, and some putz goes up there that no one has any idea who the hell the guy is. I mean really..what the hell?

A few years back, when I was relatively new on the patrol squad, I caught a guy breaking into a house. I first found a broken out window pane. I searched the house, and after finding nothing out of place or anyone on site, I had my supervisor at the time get hold of the information to get in contact with the residents. While waiting, some dip wad shows up, I confront him, he confronts the floor, and my handcuffs develop a close personal bond with the guys wrists while we wait on the cops to show up and haul the poor dumb bastard off to jail. As much as I'm not a people person nor care to remember many of them, I still remember that poor bastard's name, 5 years later.

Well we have a meeting the next morning for all the people who run my route. I'm sitting next to the sales/service guy in our office, who also happens to be a former sheriffs deputy. He tells me that I did a good job, although I got really lucky with that whole situation. He then tells me that if the guy had been a professional burglar he would've put me on flat on my ass. Yeah, thanks for the backhanded compliment, buddy!

I realize I'm not some universally recognized bad ass or anything, but I can handle my own, and within that meeting room, there were about 2 guys I had any worry of not being able to take physically..and our former sheriff deputy of a sales guy was not one of those two. Former cop or not, I could've run circles around him all day and he would've dropped dead from a heart attack before besting me.

And to top it all off, my good job at breaking up a B&E didn't get me any recognition like "employee of the month". Nope, that went to a guard who stood at a Wells Fargo Bank along Ingersoll directing customer cars out onto the road around the construction the property was undergoing during the daytime. So for that one I get a backhanded compliment, and then essentially a slap in the face. I was Rent-a-Cop two years in a row (2007-8), and now, I can't even be given a name other than "Unknown". Sad Days!

Of course, let me screw something up. Then they got my name all marked down, double confirmed. And not just my name, but my FULL name: first, middle and last, pillorying me for all to know: The Mook has seriously %$#&*! up, people, please take a note of this mistake that he, MOOK, made. They say no news is good news. So maybe no name is good name?

Maybe when I die, I'll be given a tombstone for "Unknown Rentacop", that is watched over 24/7 by only the finest of rentacops (or, as we call them in the security business, 'any old warm body we can schedule for that slot'). I'd prefer a Marine, like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, but I think that's shooting just a bit too high for a guy like me.

In the end, I suppose it is probably just another ploy by anti-Mookist forces. Conspiratorial bastards!

Mook's Allies Put Down Insurrection (AND DENNY'S!!!)

A couple posts ago you got to read about the trip my wife and I got to take together. What was not told was a bigger story that happened at the Mookified Compound while we were away.

For those of you who know the Colonel, you know he has a tendency to be mentally unstable, like any other cat. When creating a relationship with a cat, things don't always go smoothly. The overall situation is often precarious at best. By appointing him as my executive officer, thus giving him some real power in our world, I made the situation even worse.

It's kind of like professional sports. You feed the athlete's ego, you pay him, and he becomes a bitchy millionaire who feels entitled. Well, the same goes for the Colonel. Minus the millions of dollars. He just gets bitchy when things don't go his way. By us leaving him home alone, we robbed him of his opportunity to decide when he would let us pay attention to him. Rather than accepting his responsibilities of guarding the Mookified Compound, he chose to throw a temper tantrum. Or more accurately, he chose to throw his food all over the kitchen. And, unbeknownst to me, there was a head of lettuce left out. It was found on the floor, with holes having been punctured through the plastic bag it came in, quite easily comparable to Cat-Inflicted-Damage (CID) marks.

Luckily for the Colonel, we had our ally in our friend Machelle. She had taken the kids for the weekend so the wife and I could get away alone, and also cleaned up the mess before my wife came home and found it. The Colonel would have surely been skinned alive before being made to meet his demise. And that also made me a lucky one. I would've been put on clean-up and burial details. And then I would have had to go through the long drawn out process of vetting out my next executive officer to take his place. After all, I may be a high ranking official and the supremely powerful Grand Mookatollah, but I can't run this place by myself.

So yes, luckily I had a great ally on my side of things. The grand architects of the Anti-Mookist movement have yet to corrupt her. However....

They may be infecting the citizens within the walls of the Mookified Compound. My wife wears what I see as an official Commie Cap. The appearance is way too close to the type of hat seen worn by many a commie throughout history. Not the big fur Ruskie hats on Soviet guards, but those short billed caps that you'd see someone like Fidel Castro wear.
Like this, only hers is in black

After long reflection to see how my strong willed and independent wife could be wooed by the commies (as a small portion of the Anti-Mookists), I have come down to a couple conclusions. She did receive some college education, and we all know infiltrated Academia is with communist idolaters and their evil ways.

And then there are my hippy parents. As liberals, and grandparents to my kids, I'm sure they have learned to communicate with subliminal messaging techniques in an effort to bring down this great regime of freedom and opportunity which I have produced for all to enjoy. Also, my parents give the kids toys and snacks to corrupt them with their socialist bent while the boys are still too young to know better. Little do they realize that eventually the toys and snacks will end up being regular streams of socks and underwear for gifts. And then there is the fact that when given a choice between me and their mother, the little fruits of my loins choose her...EVERY time! It seems the game is afoot! I may have to move the family somewhere more isolated amongst the hatemongers of our country and away from the evil influences of the far reaching arms of communism. Where I can hide in the mountains where I have built a bunker for official use of the Mookified government, should widespread civil war break out amongst the populace.


Let's see, what else is there to report. Ah yes, the Denny's campaign. Pictures of me at a Denny's have shown themselves onto the Denny's Facebook page, prior to my finding the page and without my knowledge. So it appears I have some, even if accidental, allies in my campaign to be the official face of Denny's.

What I need to do, and I may need help, is writing up the proposal and getting proper face time and respect with Corporate Denny's. I need to convince them that I need a basic salary to cover my time away from home, a official Denny's Guy car to motor around the country touring Denny's restaurants, trying out different dishes every meal and in different regions of the country, giving them Internet advertising through a blog or some other forum. And I'll also need them to cover hotel/motel fare for when I'm a ways away from the Mookified Compound that I call home. I don't think a year of traveling about on their dime, eating their food and publicly shouting their praises (for a fair amount of money)is too much to ask of the great capitalist story that is Denny's Restaurants. So yes, spread the message, tell Denny's that they need to utilize me for such a campaign, and at a cost much lower than most television advertising campaigns go for!

Technology As A Tool Of Anti-Mookism

WARNING!!!! This post may contain some inappropriate language and attitude within the contents. Those who are prone to picking up a stick and beating random people after reading displeasing material should just stop reading now. For the rest of you, well, you've been warned.

As I have mentioned before, I am the target of many conspiracies to hold me back. In fact some of you who read this refuse to add yourselves onto my blog as official followers or to comment openly (there is an option to post comments anonymously without logging in, you know). I can only assume it is because you have heard or know of these conspiracies, and you don't wish to be targeted or have members of your families circumcised merely for your associations with or to me.

I'm pretty sure the UN is part of the grand anti-mookist conspiracy

Well, the grand conspirators have struck at the Mook again!!! Last year there was a fake virus warning that was in fact itself a virus. Clicking on anything pretty much guaranteed your computer was going to be infected and you could do nothing. This happened to my mother's computer. My brother-in-law used his laptop to figure out how to take care of the problem. Then mere weeks later, our computer became infected while I was online. I got into contact with my brother in law, and after 2 to 3 hours we got things fixed. All was good, that is, until yesterday. The bastards struck again while I was online researching information and reading news articles. In fact I didn't even get a warning. Some random pop-up appeared and I merely tried to close it. The computer went into some sort of delay, then a balloon showed up from my task bar saying a virus has been detected, blah blah blah, and then the antivirus window popped up and things went crazy. Just the latest example of a wave of anti-Mookism that has infected the power structure of our world.

Naturally I called down to my sister's place. They don't admit to it, but they are Mookist sympathizers, so I knew I could get help from there. Unfortunately for me, my sister informed me that her husband was at work, so it was going to have to wait. I called my wife and let her know of the situation, and she contacted them last night to get the computer straightened out.



I was informed by my wife after getting up for work that the computer was in fact all fixed up now. I was also told in a frustrated and unjokingly joking manner that if it happens again while I'm online I'll be banned from the computer save when adult supervision is available to monitor my activities. Even with the adult supervision, my activities would be severely curbed. Probably limited to checking but not actually reading my email and getting to play minesweeper or solitaire, games that aren't connected to the Internet.

Of course this is what the grand conspirators are counting on. By curtailing my access to information and being able to disseminate that information along with my own high brow intellect out to the world, they can keep Mookism confined to my household instead of to the masses who deserve to hear sane messages (save these crazy blogs of mine anyways) and have better options for leadership in this world (like mine...remember to write me in for President in 2016!).

For there sake, these anti-Mookist conspirators had better hope I never find them. As a matter of fact let's just go ahead and include anyone who plugs nasty viruses into the cyber world to mess up people's computers and lives. If I do find these people, I have great plans for them.

While I am normally mild mannered, this kind of crap really pisses me off to a degree which none of you can possibly fathom. (Hell, I get overwhelmingly irritated about open cabinets or refrigerator foods being left out. much more so than I should be over something so dumb) Most of you know I'm pretty ardently "anti-electric technology". I hate phones, cell phones, texting, voicemail, ipads, etc, etc. But I do like my computer and what limited things I am able to do with it. I can write my blogs, check and answer my emails, read other blogs, research stuff, write my books, play games and all that. These are the kinds of things I do to entertain myself during the day while being at home alone. I am a man of routine. Ask my wife, interrupting my routine is NOT a good thing. And these conspirators/virus hacking engineers, whatever you call them REALLY ruined my routine.

I just hope someday I run into one of these guys who does this stuff to amuse themselves. I hope he is drunk and just looking for someone to socialize with and blabbers about doing this stuff. And I will be his best friend for the moment. I'll be more than happy to give his drunken ass a ride "home". But when he wakes up, he will find himself tied down to a table. And there will be me, the mad scientist, armed with multiple syringes of adrenaline, a funnel, and a nice vat of corrosive acid.

RE-WARNING: THIS NEXT PART IS CRIMINALLY INSANE...LAST CHANCE TO TURN AWAY!!!



I will pour the acid all over the evil bastard's daddy parts, starting right down the guy's pee hole, with the funnel, and let it burn in real good, dissolving all the important stuff. I will be injecting the guy with adrenaline to keep him from passing out from the shock of it all. And then I will make sure he lives, so that he will remember it, and he will be made to know exactly why such a fate befell him. If it's a girl that does this hideous crap that messes with people's computers and/or steals their identity ruining their lives and all that, she'll get the same treatment.

Now, full disclosure here, this is all some evil fantasy in my mind. Its the kind of stuff I think these morons deserve, but is in no way the premonition of some criminally insane plot by me. It is however something I obviously wouldn't do in real life, but I'm free to imagine it. And also a legal disclaimer, I do not condone this actual activity in any way shape or form, and furthermore I refuse to be held accountable in the event some complete moron actually goes and does this. We've seen the acid-based disfigurement of people in movies before, so it's not like this is some original idea of mine. You're free to think whatever you want, just don't act upon it.