"To Err Is Human, To Forgive Canine"

Never thought of myself as an animal advocate to any great degree. But then, why else am I vegetarian in the first place? The book, Diet For A New America, surely changed my perspective back when, 15 years ago?

But I have pretty much been a quiet, make-no-waves crusader, content with changing only me. However, now I'm MAD!

I read this morning about a dog in Colorado being stolen from his owner's car by a woman who then asked her brother to get rid of the dog for her. He obliged by putting a rope around the German Shepherd's neck and tying him up to his truck and taking the dog for a 3 mile joy ride of sorts. The Denver Post reported “the dog was forced to run up and around steep hills at the Colorado National Monument near Grand Junction before it was dragged when it couldn’t keep up.” Paw prints in the snow were found to show Buddy at first walking, then running, then being dragged, for 3 miles. Buddy’s body was found with the rope still tied around his neck on a snowy road.

"'Demand Justice For Buddy' is a group formed to support the prosecution of Steven Romero, his sister, and anyone else involved with this senseless kidnapping and brutal murder. There is a petition being delivered to the prosecuting attorney in Grand Junction, CO, Jan.27 at 3 p.m. and again before each trial date for Romero. 'We want to get the maximum penalty the law allows. We support the US attorneys office to ask for the longest prison sentence possible.'"


SIGN PETITION AT: http://www.thepetitionsite.com/6/demand-justice-for-buddys-killer

I also joined the facebook group, To Honor Buddy "Tell 'Em Buddy Sent You" http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=236330769299&ref
"'Do It For Buddy' will truly honor Buddy. He was a shelter dog who was rescued by the Lebers and lived 4.5 happy years in their home with Joe and Sacha and their three heartbroken children. In Buddy's name, we ask that each of you please donate food, blankets, toys, pillows, cash and/or volunteer your time to your local animal shelters. Please tell them 'Buddy sent You.'"

I know this follows on the heels of my outburst at Michael Vick's Hero Award, which I consider the ultimate farce of the year (and wow, look at all that great competition), despite flack from my son that I am obviously against forgiveness and all things good, and bright, and beautiful.

Not so (according to me). Forgiveness in no way overlooks the problem created by a careless mistake or hardcore hatred. And it doesn't pay for the damages either. I believe payment, on whatever level, is what we call a consequence. If I smash into your car, whether you forgive me or not, I expect I'll have to pay to fix or replace it, no? (unless you live in S. Utah, where I guess you just slither off into the shadows when you wreck cars and let the wreckee deal with it...and to think, I almost was going to live there--yuk; but that's another story, and I digress).

The point is of course, we will all be happier forgiving others, but not letting them get away with things. In point of fact, Vick only served a very short time. He served time only for federal charges (the illegality of the dogfighting operation), NOT amazingly enough for animal cruelty. May I remind you in his acceptance speech (last post) he presented himself as the real victim while AT THE SAME TIME claiming to be stronger than 95% of the world population. (You may have noticed what easy lives most people in Haiti or Africa have, and they're black too...just spoiled, I guess).

Ok, touches my heart. Yours? The guy made a simple mistake. Like coloring outside the lines, using the wrong silverware at the Awards Banquet. His infallible Coach and teammates have given him a shot at the brass ring again. So he deserves a second chance. BTW, one that will make him hundreds of millions. Sweet. But an award for courage. Courage?

In that vein I would like to go ahead and nominate Adolph Hitler posthumously for the Nobel Peace Prize. Torture is torture. I figure the more dead, the bigger the award. Do I have it right now?

Rhymes With ICK! BOOOOOO Eagles!!!!!!

Honestly, I thought I was so above and beyond getting this upset, but when I found out last week that Michael Vick was receiving a Heroic Award for Courage, I LOST IT!!!!!

See what you think:
"The Courage Award Goes to...Michael Vick?
posted by: alicia graef(CARE2Causes)

Ed Block was considered a hero. He served in World War II, was awarded a Purple Heart, earned a master’s degree and worked to help neglected children and end the cycle of abuse.

The Ed Block Courage Award is now given to NFL players who show “commitments to the principles of sportsmanship and courage.”

The recipient of this award symbolizes professionalism, great strength and dedication. He is also a community role model. With this honor, he enters into an association which contrasts his fierce profession by becoming a major component of the Courage House National Support Network for Kids. He becomes an Ambassador of Courage for victims of abuse, violence and neglect.

In December members of the Eagles voted unanimously for Michael Vick to be the recipient of this prestigious award.

Huh?

This award is especially insulting considering recent evidence that was released by the USDA to wsbtv.com under the Freedom of Information Act in regards to Vick’s investigation.

Informants told investigators that Vick and two others strangled low performing dogs by hanging them from trees, drowning them in buckets of water -- one person holding the hind legs, another person holding the dog's head. They said Vick and two others also killed dogs with a shovel, shot them and in at least one case slammed a dog to the ground until it was dead.Vick and co-defendants Purnell Peace and Quanis Phillips "seemed to get an adrenaline high when killing the dogs," an informant said.

An award of this caliber is intended to put the recipient in a place where he can give a voice to the voiceless. It's intended to acknowledge a quality in human beings that we can all reach to attain. It was never intended to stroke the egos of hypocrites. Vick did exactly the type of thing Block took a stand against: abusing the weak and the innocent.

Congratulations to all of the other recipients who have overcome real obstacles and have become role models, like the Jacksonville Jaguars’ Richard Collier who was paralyzed as the result of a spinal cord injury, lost a leg and has since dedicated himself to being a speaker and role model for his area’s youth about personal responsibility and hopes to inspire positive changes.

Now that’s courage."

I checked it out and found more:

So what did Vick have to say?

"I've had to overcome a lot, more than probably one single individual can bear," Vick said. "Take a look at what I've been through. You ask certain people to walk in my shoes, they probably couldn't do it. Probably 95 percent of the people in this world -- because nobody had to endure what I've been through, situations I've been put in, situations I've placed myself in, decisions that I've made -- whether they were good or bad."

EXCUSE ME??? He's the victim? Not the dogs?? Aaaaaaaaaaggggghhhhhhh!


This made me ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS, so I contacted this now pathetic organization and said:

This travesty has just sown the seeds of your own demise. With no credulity left, your
organization has nowhere to go but downhill, and into oblivion.

Not only has this award become a pathetic joke, it has precipitated the exit of many from the halls of NFL fandom. Many will now find something worthwhile to do. Count me in on that.

Count me out of ever attending/watching NFL football again. Way to go Eagles. And what a sterling committee!

Sincerely,
Melinda Sleight

If it gets your blood boiling as well, here's how to let them know:
http://www.edblock.org/content/contact-us

Courthouse Shooting...Part II, Rest of the Story

(Photo by Sylvain GRANDADAM/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images)

Got off on the wrong foot yesterday... I slept in a half hour later than I had planned to.  I had wanted to leave more than enough time to drive to downtown Las Vegas so I would be able to find parking and get to the Courthouse in plenty of time to report for Jury Duty.  Knowing the frustration I so often encounter with Vegas traffic, the frustration I have with my total lack of direction, and the frustration I have with being a relative invalid with my "recent" shattered heel that left me a bit impaired, I'd contemplated arriving the night before and just standing outside till the doors opened in the morning.  But, hey, this IS Vegas... I am well aware of the fact.  So I left half an hour later than I had intended.  A silly 30 minutes.

Ever wondered, "what if?"  For Christmas I bought my son-in-law a book that pursues that concept with the events of history.  I wondered a bit about the here and now possibilities as the day wore on and I was enmeshed in the aftermath of  shooting.  Had things gone as planned, I would have arrived at Court yesterday 30 silly minutes earlier--- in time to be on the scene as the gunman opened fire

In my mind's eye, I see myself jumping in front of him, holding out my hand and firmly telling him to give me the gun.  Immediately he acquiesces and no one is hurt! Tenderly I tell him everything will be ok now.  Having spontaneously intervened in a handful of violent physical episodes in my life (a rape, a knife fight, domestic confrontations) with no bruises and surprisingly good results, I figure this was a scenario meant to be.  Yes, I am certifiably more stupid than fearless, and I have been plain lucky.  But my imagination has to concede to the reality that my feet of clay (or my dedication to sleep), have led to this other bizarre outcome instead.  Under my breath, I excoriate my lapse.  Coulda, woulda, shoulda.  My theme song.

Then again, who's to say what is real and what is not?  As I was finally able to leave the surreality of the crime scene area yesterday, I was forced to wend my way through streets that were not cordoned off.  Bonneville was the name of the street that I followed for several blocks and where I encountered the underbelly of Vegas society.  

And then I saw him.  Elvis.  In white bell bottoms, shirt, and cape.  Bejeweled with glittering red orange chains and embellishments, the trademark black pompadour and dark glasses.  The black fanny pack?  Hmmmm.  Much, much shorter than I ever remembered him and a lot less appealing, nevertheless there he was in the flesh.  What else?

The reality is this is Vegas, this is life, this is death, and beyond.  All improv.  The good, the bad, the bizarre.  All of this just is.  And so it goes.  Viva Las Vegas.  Bring your camera.

"Hell of a Morning for Jury Duty"--- Las Vegas Courthouse Shooting

1,050 × 700

 Las Vegas Review-Journal

"Hell of a morning for jury duty," exclaimed the guy who videoed the area of the shooting at the Las Vegas Courthouse today.  You heard his observation on the YouTube posting, while listening to all the shots fired in the building.  For the families of those who died and were injured, ever will that be the most painful sound.

But he was right--- it was the wrong day for jury duty downtown.  Who knew?  I carried the summons in my hand as I walked toward the Courthouse with two other jurors I had just met in the garage elevator.  Soon we were interrupted by a man going the other way, "They're evacuating the Courthouse.  Just get out of here."

What?  No way did I get ready and make it all this way to turn around and leave.  At least not without some official dispensation so I wouldn't be arrested for no show or have to come back another time.  But as we approached the front of the building, and saw the gathering crowd, the wailing police sirens began to sound serious.  The sight of the police in front of the doors with rifles pointed, then soon the thundering herd of helicopters above, presented irrefutable evidence that this was not to be just another ordinary Monday morning.

One of the women I was walking with visibly paled and turned around, scurrying back to her car.  Another I encountered en route, Jane, and I determined to wait, find out what was going on, and what would be expected of us.  Bits and pieces of rumors filtered among us as we waited at the bottom of the steps.  Apparently two Federal Marshalls had been shot and killed; then it was one, then four, then the gunman had been shot in the head and killed across the street as he fled.  Then we weren't sure anyone had died.  Then we were.  First it seemed it was a lone gunman, then another had been apprehended and the area was being scoured for two more accomplices.

As time went on, it seemed strange all those law enforcement officers remained silent, and a few people would file out of the courthouse now and then.  It's a different world now because of the ubiquitous cell phone, because you can reach out and find friends and family who have access to media information that is unavailable to you when in the midst of something.  So soon the consensus was that someone had been shot and the gunman was down.

After an hour or so, finally an officer addressed us through the bullhorn.  Different protocols for different situations.  Don't quote me on this, but I think he said if you were there for a criminal case, your case was dismissed as of now.  I guess crime pays sometimes!  For those there about a civil case, the court would contact you in 2 weeks.  If you were there for this reason or that reason, whatever reason, you could leave.  Finally, he said if you were there as a juror, move to the side of the steps.  There an official let us know that no one had the authority to dismiss us except for a Judge.  Soon they would poll the Judges and see which of them would choose to hear cases if and when the building was secure enough.  So the attorneys walked, the criminals walked, the plaintiffs and defendants walked, but the jury was plain out of luck?  Justice isn't blind, she winks.  We were told that we could walk a couple of blocks to B of A, where there would be coffee (Starbucks) and restrooms. All buildings for several blocks were on lockdown, so our options were few to none.

Before 10, we returned to the Courthouse steps and were told that a decision would be made by 11:30 and we could call the Court to see whether we would a) be just dismissed with our obligation fulfilled, b) need to return tomorrow, or c) be summoned another time.   Oh, and "by the way", all the streets were still sealed off, and the parking garage on lockdown... so not like most of us could be going anywhere anytime soon.  Jane and I walked back to Starbucks to wait it out.  The weather was beautiful, but we sat inside where the omnipresent helicopters and police cars were less obtrusive and we could hear ourselves talk. We had a nice visit about everything but the surreal situation surrounding us.  Denial being what it is.  What a diametrically opposed experience to what the families of the victims were going through at the same time.  How is it that some people are dancing or relaxing or marrying when others are grieving, suffering, weeping at the same time?  Isn't this a strange, strange world?

When I called the Court on my cell and found out they would send out another summons for another day, I was chagrined.  No way did I want to come back to this place at another time.  I was defensive about the effort I had made to even be in town at this time, to make the trip downtown, to limp a few blocks to the Courthouse from the parking garage, to be one of those who did stick around for hours just in case.  All for nothing.  I know.  Me, me, me.

But my attitude changed a little as I drove away, down a few more blocks through the seediest of neighborhoods.  Seeing the really down and out hovering on the streets was another kind of sobering experience.  What they have to go through, and go without, made any inconvenience I imagined more than trivial.  Later, I learned that the man who caused all the drama and trauma this morning was a disgruntled old geezer who was angry about having his Social Security payments reduced when he moved from California to Nevada (he'd lost a Court case protesting this).  I wondered if he'd just taken a little drive through the neighborhood here, if he might not have changed his mind, and counted himself among the lucky ones.  Or was this perhaps his neighborhood?  What made him choose this battle?

Then I remembered listening to a man tell his story on NPR just this morning as I turned off the freeway to find parking.  He was born with a congenital disease that kills most children before the age of 2.  All his life he had lived in a wheelchair.  All his life.  His body betrayed him more and more everyday of his life, muscles wasting away--- he could no longer even hold a pencil.  People would sometimes tell him, "If I were you, I would kill myself."  Although he felt they likely meant that as a compliment, implying that he had exceptional courage to deal with all he had on his plate, he sometimes felt like replying, "Why, if I were you, I would try to kill myself."   But inside he has always felt he was one of the lucky ones.  Now with a great wife and two wonderful daughters, his life is full.  Did I mention he graduated from Harvard?

How do some of us choose to really live life against all odds, and others to kill and be killed?  More to the story:

https://lasvegassun.com/news/2010/jan/05/news-conference-scheduled-federal-courthouse/

How's your attitude? Mine?

More tomorrow.........................