Monday, October 26, 2020

The Black, a Halloween Story

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Christopher and Nico enjoying Duffy's one of our favorite restaurants. October 25, 2020.



October 26, 2020



The Black derived from a black hole in space. A fragmented piece of space debris bounced off the rim of a black hole and spiraled out of control until it made its way to earth. The piece pierced earth’s atmosphere and finally embedded itself into the wooded area of New York’s Central Park on the Upper East Side. For decades, the piece absorbed the water and earths nutrients as microscopic entities grew on its surface and begin to morph into an entity, a plague.

The Black thrived in our world. Like bacteria in a humid petri dis the plague found existence. It only needed a host. Luckily for The Black, Phil happened to be jogging by and he would become its unwilling host after getting his ass kicked by some punks.

“Sorry, sorry,” Phil said as he side stepped the 2 men and 2 women that were blocking the path.

“Nice shoes, dummy,” one man said.

Phil didn’t hear him. He was lost in his mind. The noise cancelling headphones blocked out the world around him, however it couldn’t block the sucker punch to the back of his head as he passed one of the lovely ladies.

Phil turned back and shouted,” hey not cool, girl.”

“What do you say to my lady?” The other male demanded.

“Look, I didn’t do anything wrong for you to punch me in the back of the head.”

“You did. You invaded our space.”

Phil turned to continue his jog and while his back was turned another girl sucked punched him in the side of the face.

 

“Booya!” 

As the quad of men and women started to kick Phil’s ass, he laid helpless on the ground. The Black watched from its rock. Phil rolled over and spooned the rock as he attempted to shield himself from the onslaught of punches to the head and body. He was called names like, “pussy, wimp. ” and “bitch.” And those were the kind words.

The Black observed. Took in the words of the assailants. It monitored Phil’s breathing. It could sense his weakness. He was a feeble man that could be manipulated.

Kicks and punches rained down on Phil. He was helpless. He did all he could other than fight back. And then it was too late. With a kick to the back of Phil’s head and the pressure applied to the rock. His neck broke. Unbeknownst to the violent 4, they killed.  So they stopped to check why he wasn’t moving.

“Yo, yo, yo, stop. He’s done. He’s done.”

“Done, how?”

“Done as in that bitch may be dead.”

“FUCK!”

“Let’s bounce.”

The 4 walked away leaving Phil’s body to rot, eaten by some strange park animal, turn into fertilizer or become a piss magnet for dogs until someone saw the sorry sap dead.  The four idn’t realize they left the perfect host for The Black.

The Black moved in. Jumping on Phil’s torso. Phil’s lifeless body lurched up and forward. The Black poked a hole in his belly button and sunk its body inside of Phil. Phil gasped. There was life again.

“That dude, he, he had it coming, right?” One of the 4 killers said to ease his conscience regarding the killing.

“Yeah, agree,” the female, said. “If you can’t handle New York, you can’t make it anywhere. You know, like that song by Frank Sentra?”

“It’s Sinatra, you idiot. And the song totally doesn’t mean what you’re thinking.”

They all laughed.

“You’re in my path,” Phil said.

The quad stopped. One of the guys looked back and saw Phil looking at them.

Phil was bloodied. His nose was broken. Hair disheveled. Clothing was saturated in sweat. You could see the sneaker tread stamped all over his body, like tattoos.

“Haven’t you had enough,” one of the men asked him. “Are you looking to get your ass kicked?”

“Kicked? I thought we killed that mother.....”.

“I’m not dead. And you’re in my way,” Phil sneered.

One of the 4 went to sucker punch him in the face again. Phil turned his face forward into the punch. The fist struck his mouth. Phil inhaled his fist and began to chomp down. Eating his hand. Then his wrist. Up his forearm. And then ripped off the rest of the elbow.

The other 3 shrieked until shock set in, then there was silence. They were so scared they didn’t run. Scream echoed the park from the dude who couldn’t believe he just lost his arm.

“You didn’t think you’d sucker punch me twice?”

Phil reached out and inserted his fingers into the eyes of his victim. Lifted him up and threw his body into the other three, which sent them tumbling to the ground. Phil stood in one spot. He failed to let go of his eye socket grip from the bad guy who had killed him earlier. When he threw the body as hard as he could. The head detached. Phil stood there. The head dangling from his fingertips.

“Whoops”. He said.

Phil tossed the head and gradually walked to the 3 remaining, would be killers. They preyed on Phi, and left their impending death behind. 

Phil lunged to the ground. The Black left Phil’s body through the belly button. It moved towards the left over 3.

The 2 women and 1 man wailed.

1 woman demanded, “leave me alone! Asshole.”

The Black inhaled all 3 bodies simultaneously. A loud whooping sound could be heard as each body was quickly moved into The Blacks purview and consumed alive.

Hallowed screams were heard. Birds scattered. The trees swayed. The evening was in the twilight. The Black had just begun its purge.



All my boys, my loves, at home, safe and sound. October 10, 2020.






 



© copyright 2012- 2020 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved.  

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Technically Speaking in a Technical Time

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Nico, Mrs. Fusaro and Christopher enjoying the Gold Coast Train Museum. Sept. 26, 2020

September 30, 2020

I decided to write this after the attempted murder of the 2 L.A. Sheriff’s deputies in California. We owe it to ourselves, and our families, to remain safe, by not compromising are situational awareness during our down time. Although an ambush is an ambush and it may be impossible to see it coming. We can prevent being taken by surprise by not focusing on our technology and not compromising our hyper vigilance.

Information technology has infiltrated our police cars by way of computers and cell phones. Both have become a way of life for us in the law enforcement profession. Back in the day when tickets were written, most of us officers, would stand off to the side of the road, in a swale or on a sidewalk, and stroke out a citation. All the while keeping our eyes on the occupants inside the car. This method also gave us situational awareness by allowing us to see nearly 360 degrees around us.

Boy, times sure have changed.

These days, officers are glued to their computer and rely on this technology to perform our basic patrol functions from our CAD system, traffic crashes and ticket writing. Our cell phones have become a file cabinet of information that inundates us with unlimited information that most of us consume during our downtime while on duty. There is no question that social media has become a daily way of life. These distractions are making us technically unsafe.

Electronic distractions are new additions to our daily onslaught of radio traffic, situational awareness, and response to calls. There is no way to combat this deluge of constant information, other than minimizing our use of it during moments that we think we are safe but forgetting we are vulnerable.

If you have, or are currently, sitting in a parked police car in front of Walmart, Home Depot, or another business, in order to be visible to deter crime from occurring, well this is no longer an efficient method. Marked police cars are magnets for all sorts of questions from people or well wishes from citizens for our safety, and opportunities for criminals to make statements by attempting to hurt us. We must constantly be aware of what is happening around us, rather than burying our faces in our laptop. At least dayshift officers, who are paying attention around them, have the tactical advantage with the benefit of daylight.

Ambushes, like the one we saw over the weekend in Los Angeles, are not new to law enforcement. On November 13, 1990, Broward Sheriff Deputy Patrick Behan was shot and killed by 2 juveniles who were out riding bikes on a dare while, Deputy Behan wrote a police report in the parking lot of a Circle K regarding a retail theft.

Although ambushes are nothing new, they seem to be happening more frequently over the past several years. In a USA Today newspaper article titled Ambush -style killings of police were up 167% in 2016. (Hjelmgaard, 2016). “On average, one law enforcement officer is killed in the line of duty in the U.S. every 61 hours and more than 20,000 police officers have lost their lives in the line of duty since the first known line-of-duty death in 1791, according to the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund.”

People have free will to do what they want. Opportunities for an ambush can occur when an officer has his or her car parked in front of a business to deter crime. These moments are where we can be most vulnerable (also car to car conversations.) Most of the time we are utilizing our technology by way of our smart phone, computer, or other technical means. Remember that you should not compromise your situation awareness by focusing on what is on your social media timeline while ignoring the real life occurring around you.

The attempted murder of the 2 L.A. Sheriff’s Deputies and the murder of BSO Deputy Behan, should be wake up calls for us to heighten our awareness of who, and what, is going on around us. You can do this by being technically safe in a technical time. You may very well save your own life.


 
Captain Imperfecto and newborn son, Max and Christophe at home. September 20,  2020.


 



© copyright 2012- 2020 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved.  

Monday, August 31, 2020

You Have a Story, I have a Story, We All Have a Story




The boys. Nico (top left, Christopher top right, Blake bottom left and Max bottom right. August 2020)


I have a story. You have a story. Everyone has a story to tell. It’s important to know that because some people get so caught up in their own story that they tend to discard other peoples feelings.

My least favorite event is when you listen to someone’s story with caring ears and then offer insightful opinions that you correlate in relation to your story, the other person looks at you and callously says, “ oh? Well, anyway...”

Oh, anyway? Can there be another careless word by someone to use that demonstrates a total disregarded for your own story? It’s like telling you “who cares!” No one wants to be a party to that kind of selfishness.

People seem to be comfortable with trampling one other people feelings. But it’s okay because, “hey, I’m only being brutally honest. That’s what true friends do.” Oh? If that is being a true friend I hate to see how someone who really hates me is treating me.

The reality is that along with every story, everyone has problems. I would like to resolve my problems without you unloading your story if you don’t choose to reciprocate.

These thoughts on my mind are only stories to mention from a lifetime of experience. I thought it would be fun to lecture you about the current things, not, affecting my way of life at the present moment. The great thing about this blog is that I can vent and free my mind of the thought clutter.

Emotions very in individuals because feelings have been molded over the years through their life lessons, which place them on a very wide spectrum. You probably know someone right now who will text you out of the blue because someone else frustrated them. If you were the one who listens mainly and gives advice I would probably stop doing that. I can guarantee you; your voice of reason isn’t appreciated.

Alas, we are all humans. The ones who claim to be closed off are the ones that spew their emotions to you in private. You aren’t obligated to be the listener or a punching bag. I suppose you could just stop listening all together. I don’t know. I have my own issues going on, anyway.


***I hope everyone is staying safe. This blog was satire. I hope I laid it on pretty thick. But on a lighter note please let’s be kind. The world is out of control. Let’s get the world spinning correctly on its axis.



Max and Blake. August 30, 2020





© copyright 2012- 2020 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved.  

 



Friday, July 31, 2020

Searching for Burt Reynolds

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Nico, Christopher, Blake and (Max)imilian at home. July 31,2020


July 31, 2020

I had Burt Reynolds on my mind the other day while I stood in the kitchen waiting for my morning coffee to percolate.  Just a random thought of a dead celebrity right before I left for work.  That’s a normal thought process during a pandemic, right? 

My generation did not own him, but I was a child and was able to enjoy movies like, Smokey and the Bandit, Stroker Ace, Sharky’s Machine, and then later when I was older, Boogie Nights.

Burt was the coolest guy I knew when I was a child. He had swagger, poise, and was suave. Burt made CB radios all the rage back in the late 70’s.  Everyone, including me, had to have a CB radio handle. Think, social media name. My CB handle was, Bandit 7.  He drove the coolest damn car, aside from a certain orange muscle car out of Hazard county. 

Burt wasn’t the first movie star to make muscle cars a must have.  That trend was started before the Smoky and the Bandit franchises. But you would be hard pressed to find a child, teenager or an adult who didn’t want that very sexy Pontiac Trans - Am he used as interference has his partner drove his 18-wheeler from Texas to Georgia.  And just when you thought the car couldn’t be cooler he added Sally Fields, a runaway bride, which enhanced the car and caught my adolescence attention.

I usually hear arguments about Tom Selleck and Sam Elliot's mustaches.  They were cool and all, but theirs had a fashion contribution to society.  Hell, I could add my dad to the list of fashionable.  He rocked a mustache nearly all my life.  

Burt Reynolds died in 2018 at the age of 82.  According to IMDB he blessed us with 184 movies and television appearances.  He had his own show, Evening Shade in the early 90’s.  


Burt was a product of the 80's for me. I have fond memories of the the 80's.  The music, television, movies, ect..  but the most selfish reasons I believe for thinking of Burt Reynolds so early this morning is that everyone I loved was alive and well during his heyday and my first memories of my family correlates with the memory of Burt and the movies he did.

Youth was king in the 80's and my parents possessed it. And their parents were alive and healthy. I can still feel the touch of my grandparents. His movies were a part of my childhood, like many of today’s stars, who have aged with me. Those stars are my parents age today. But man, oh man, the memories I carry with me as I age now.  When the good times seemed better and the bad stuff kinda fades away, as more time and distance fades and the future appears to be uncertain.

They say music can act as a soundtrack to our lives that will bring us back to simpler times.  Like a song being played on the radio, Burt Reynolds reminded me of a time when I was an innocent child. A child who wasn’t exposed to the chaos of life, especially in today's world that could hurt a child's emotions.  Maybe I can find a CB radio and use it as a time machine that will immerse my memories deeper into what once was a carefree time for me. 


Breaker, breaker 1-9. This is Bandit 7. I'm searching for Burt Reynolds. Is my childhood out there somewhere?  


Captain Imperfecto and newborn son, Max. July 26, 2020


 



© copyright 2012- 2020 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved.  

Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Roads Are a Series of Zig Zag's

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A collage of pictures of my 4 boys.  Maximilian "Max", Blake, Nico and Christopher. (May 2020) 


June 30, 2020

Roads are a series of zig zags. Depending on how you zig, then zag, the results will indicate if you made the correct decision.

Traveling  in one place and traveling on a straight path to our destination sounds pretty ideal. No one wants heartache and hardships to define their life. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I suppose that is what people say.

But alas, life will throw us a curveball, which will create friction and cause us to zig zag and end up in a different location.

I guess there was hope that one of the moves would lead me to add something good and beneficial to my daily life. I feel that sometimes I earned, even deserved, good fortune. I’m a good guy. Can’t I zig zag into the lottery win? I guess I ought to play the lotto to test my theory.

When pain and suffering is thrown at me, I have navigated through that zig zag dilemma through hardship and growth. I even started this blog and threw all my emotions out there for the world to see. Did I ever imagine anyone would care? After all, everyone has their own story of ups and downs, good times and bad times, shouldn’t they zig zag into a lottery win?

I don’t know how luck finds some people. Did they zig zag at all? Is there a future price to pay for his or her success? Was their work ethic better than mine? So many questions and not enough answers. I know this blog is definitely too much over thinking on my behalf.

I can tell you I get tired of building but then, I don’t want to stop growing. I enjoy my job, but I want more free time to do what I want. I’d like to travel more, but enjoy the comfort of home. I want to do less, but I’m motivated to do more. I like money, and wish to earn more. I like that path I travel, but I don’t mind if I have to zig zag into another direction.

Levels of growth. Paths to travel. High roads to take. Decisions to make. Experiences that enhanced my travels. These things have meant everything to me, and I understand my issues mean little to many others in my life, who have their own problems.  I also can't expect perfect strangers, who read my blog, to care
 about my road to perdition. But maybe with a little understanding about me the reader will understand how common our travels can be.  Hopefully you can empathize more about my personal zig zags throughout my life, and another person's life, while understanding that most of us endure the same everyday problems.  Then we can use each experience as teaching tools to learn about how difficult it has been to solve a problem.  I may not be rich unfortunately, a majority of us our not, but I can tell you that some paths travelled are worn because there is more that binds us together than that which divides us. 

My path in life has had a lifetime of taking off in different directions.  I may not have been born rich.  Or bred from birth to be idolized, and have money thrown at me for starting a trend.  Those worlds are what I would consider to be, la la land.  Dining with the rich and famous may not be in my future.  A book deal probably isn’t close at hand.  But all of us should be grateful that our personal zig zags have extended our travels, to be here, in this moment of now, because regardless of status, eventually these roads traveled will be zig zaging without us. 

Captain Imperfecto holding his new son (#4) Max while Blake looks on. June 14, 2020.


© copyright 2012- 2020 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved.  

 



Sunday, May 31, 2020

I Stand Down, A note from the Author

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May 31, 2020


Since 2012 I have written a blog every month through now. Only missing one time. I will do it again for only the second time. In solidarity to a Nation in trouble and for people hurting. I stand down.



Picture courtesy:https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/open-ears-project/episodes/esther-perel-on-peace

 



© copyright 2012- 2020 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved.