EMS: Heroes or Adrenaline Junkies?

Chillin After Dinner at SARS Substation 

I am was no hero.

I want to make that totally, unabashedly, clear.

As a matter of fact, I'm possibly very selfish.

Being a paramedic gave me back more than I put into it.

It's not an untruth to say I was attracted to it because I wanted to help people.

But the real truth is, the rush I got from the adrenalin of pushing a needle into a vein, or delivering a shock to a fluttering heart, or snaking my way into the crushed metal of a car, was the main attraction to the job.

Every medic, every EMT, every firefighter (if being honest) would tell you they love to hear a report of a major pile up on the turnpike or a four alarm fire with entrapment. When the words "put the helicopter on standby" or "fly the bird" are broadcast over the radio, our veins constrict; our hearts pound, our pupils dilate.
Yeah, baby, this is good shit.
It's not that we want suffering in the world, it's that, if there's got to be some tragedy going down, we want to be there so we can witness it first hand, so we can patch up the holes, so we can save a life.

So we have stories to tell.

When the summer nights are long and the calls are slow and we sit in a semi circle on white plastic chairs smoking cigarettes under a full moon, we have this to say:
"Remember that Easter we got hit out for the accident on 309? When we pulled up to the scene there were three bodies lying on the road? And Darin almost ran right over one of the bodies?"
"Remember that water rescue? We spent two days searching for those teenagers and then it turns out it was just a prank? Lori broke up with me because I missed our anniversary dinner."
"Remember that car rescue in front of the bank? The one where that Hilltown firefighter smelled like booze so the cops kicked him off scene?"
"Remember how Martin and Shoppy got into a fist fight during that rescue in front of the motorcycle shop because Shoppy forgot to crib the car?"
We are not heroes.
We are junkies.
Adrenaline junkies.
Story junkies.

 Excerpt from Girl Medic: Confession of Chaos and Calamity Behind the Sirens.

Life By Accident - Excerpt From Girl Medic

 Life By Accident

"This cannot be accident: it must be design. I was kept for this job."
Winston Churchill

My life has not gone according to plan.
I'd had great plans for life after high school. There was going to be college and law school. There was going to be a minor in theater, and maybe, who knows, I might bypass law all together to become the next Julia Roberts. I wanted a life full of energy, I wanted to help people, whether that was in a courtroom or by becoming an entertainer, I wanted to leave some sort of mark on the world.
I'd always been a voracious reader and started writing stories as early as the second grade. My English teachers, my friends who I wrote stories for, told me I should become a writer. I scoffed at the thought. Writing is solitary. Lonely. There is no immediate feedback on your work. No instant knowledge of "yes, this is good stuff" or "this sucks, try again". So though I continued to write, I had no desire to make it my life's work.
After high school, I found myself pregnant by my boyfriend of two years. We had a horrible relationship but did what so many do, married and started a family. College was no longer an option because he felt my place was at home, raising our daughter. I'd lost my independence, coming to rely on him for money and shelter, and we had moved 1,200 miles away from friends and family. He was all I had. My dreams fell off the radar screen as I struggled to make an unhappy marriage work, figure out how to be a mother at such a young age, and try to salvage pieces of who I was and combine them with who I was becoming.
Two years into the marriage, I had another child. My husband still believed my place was in the house, but I was becoming desperate to do something with my life. I was in need of friends, I was depressed that my life had not worked out according to plan.
And then one night, a car accident in front of our house changed everything. I would spend the next 8 years of my life taking on challenges I never imagined. I became a volunteer for the local ambulance, then a career EMT, then a paramedic. I became an EMT and CPR instructor. I became a certified fire fighter and certified in rescue vehicle operations. I would make life long friends and enemies. I would get divorced and fall in and out of love many times, remarry leave EMS for what I thought was good when I was three months pregnant with my last child, only to return a second time, because once again, I needed to be rescued.
I've been unable to hold a steady job since leaving EMS. I'm still struggling to find something as challenging and rewarding. I've toyed with the idea of going back, and who knows, by the time you read this, I might be crawling into the back of a mangled car, trying to breathe life into an unconscious patient.
I've always believed everything in life happens for a reason.
My life did not go as I had planned, because perhaps, life had a plan of its own for me. I've seen the worst in people; I've seen the best. I've struggled to make sense of death and in doing so, have come to the realization that in order to understand death, first, I must understand life.
10-42 is the code we use to let the radio room know that our shift has ended; we're no longer in service. Though my shift ended a long time ago, I want to share the lessons I've learned from my front row seat in the arena of life and death.
My life didn't go according to plan, and for that, I'm grateful. And I know though I can assure you, if you feel  lost now, there is something for you around the corner.
The one thing I would like for you to remember is this quote:
"There's no such thing as chance:
And what to us seems merest accident
Springs from the deepest source of destiny." - Friedrich von Schiller

Excerpt from Girl Medic: Confession of Chaos and Calamity Behind the Sirens.

When EMS Crews Make Fun Of Their Patients

"Silence is the universal refuge,…our inviolable asylum, where no indignity can assail."
Henry David Thoreau


There is a good chance (75/25) that if an ambulance crew arrives to pick you up; they will make fun of you once you’ve been deposited safely at the ER.
           
It is not because we are cold hearted or cruel, it’s because we need an outlet to diffuse the stress and emotion that could easily kill us if we took every thing so seriously.
           
What might we say?
         
 “Was that mold growing on the dishes in the sink? What trailer park trash.”
         
 “Could he have been any fatter? Maybe if he lost 200 pounds he might be able to breathe.”
           
“Was it just me or did it seem as if the whole family was a bunch of hysterical hyenas slightly on the retarded side?”
         
 “Christ, what a WHINER. If I ever whine like that, throw me off the rig and run over me a million times.”
         
 There are those calls, however, that still our voices, that leave us speechless.
         
 We arrived in front of a sprawling house with an immaculate lawn. A State Police car was already parked at the curb.
           
She was pretty, a pink afghan wrapped around her shoulders even though it was the middle of summer. She was tall and blonde and walking up and down the driveway. “Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God.”
           
Ed, the senior medic, stopped to ask her if she was okay. Her teeth were chattering in between the OH MY GOD’s. Obviously, she was not okay.
           
The trooper met us at the door and led us upstairs to a bedroom.
           
As I always do, I pay close attention to the details of the house. This one was perfect, everything sparkling, clean, in its proper place. It was like walking into a show home.
         
 He was lying on the floor in the bedroom: The gun not far from his right hand. His face looked like it was made of wax and someone had grabbed the left side of his head and stretched it out as far as it could go. He looked like a disfigured comic book character. A villain in search of Batman and Robin. There was brain and bone spattered on the ceiling. I was fearful it would fall on me so for the most part, I stood in the doorway.
           
There was a bullet hole in the window.
         
 “Oh yeah,” said the veteran trooper, “a-lot of times they take a practice shot to make sure the gun is working.”
           
There were pictures of him and the hysterical woman all over the room. On their wedding day, on a boat, on a beach, under a Christmas tree. He was 29. He was Esquirish good looking.
He left a note that wasn’t very telling. He apologized to his family. To his wife. Sorry. I just couldn’t take it anymore. No matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough. I hope you forgive me for the embarrassment this will cause you.
           
We waited until the woman’s mother arrived to drive her away from this perfect house, with the nice cars, and the once handsome husband, and the crystal blue swimming pool in the perfectly green back yard.
         
 Ed had kept trying to calm her down but she just kept pacing, kept whispering “Oh My God”…but at one point she crossed the lawn to where I was standing and grabbed my arm with her cold, tiny, hand.
           
“Why? Why would he do this?”
           
Her eyes were wild, like a trapped animal, and when she had touched my arm, it was as if she had instantly transferred her pain into my heart and for a moment, I felt the shock of it all. The violence, the loss, the end of life as she knew it. I opened my mouth to say something but there was not a word to be found.
           
We drove back to the station in total silence. No jokes, no music, no questions.
           
So, if you ever have the unfortunate occasion to find yourself in the care of EMS, remember this: if you catch an eye roll or smirk out of the corner of your eye, be thankful: It’s the silence that you should worry about.

Excerpt from Girl Medic: Confession of Chaos and Calamity Behind the Sirens.

Dear Santa; Bring Bacon!

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday To Me!!
Some girls love shoes - I love bacon!

And luckily, I'm blessed to live near some bacon enthusiasts who truly make awesome bacon. Regular flavor is so good, but they also have flavors like Bloody Mary, Cherry Bomb, and Volcano (to name a few!).

When Bespoke Bacon first came on the scene - I wrote about them in: "Covert Bacon Operations: The Pig Is In"

So I was really excited to see they are selling a gift pack of bacon which includes beer bacon jam and free shipping and promptly bought it as a gift to myself; but will be shared with family and friends (if they happen to be around when I fry it up!).

Seriously, this is a great deal that would make a great present for the bacon lovers in your life!

Bespoke Bacon Gift Pack	Get three pounds of our most popular flavors of bacon, plus a special jar of Bespoke Bacon Beer Bacon Jam, featuring Insana Stout beer from our friends over at Prism Brewing in North Wales, PA. With shipping included, $50!
Order from SHOP.BESPOKEBACON.COM

Donuts and Destiny - Excerpt from Girl Medic

Coincidence: The occurrence of events that happen at the same time by accident but seem to have some connection.

“You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it.”

French Proverb.

           

I had barely made it across the station threshold when the tones dropped and County radio informed us we had an overturned vehicle on the turnpike. I turned around before the door had time to close, cursed myself for not stopping to pick up a coffee because it was cold and rainy; it was six in the morning and accidents on the turnpike could last forever.

            Snuffy was our driver, a grouch on good days and a (rhymes with sucker) on bad days. Still, there was always something about Snuffy’s black cloud that attracted me to him and there was this one time…well, that’s a different story. Ray was our medic. Gray hair, but handsome in a George Clooney meets Pierce Brosnan sort of way. He was always smiling. Even when he was chewing you out for spiking the wrong IV bag, you always felt good around Ray.

            On the way out to the turnpike, Ray chatted about the weather, Snuffy growled every now and then (only because he admired Ray…this was his way of being nice) and I tried to climb into my bunker gear in the back of the moving rig without falling over. Because I was the smallest person, I was usually designated as the “climb in the mangled car to hold stabilization” person.

            Because the Turnpike is State Police territory and almost everything in State Police territory is far, far, away from their barracks, we arrived seconds after the black and white (and red and yellow).

            We could barely make out an overturned truck a few yards off the side of the road. The Trooper was walking towards us from the accident scene, holding a flash light, shaking his head.

            “Funniest thing…someone called to report the accident as it happened…which was, what, about fifteen minutes ago? Said the truck lost control, swerved off the road and flipped a few times. Caller said he had to keep going because he was going too fast to stop and was afraid he’d cause another accident. Anyway, there’s nobody in the truck.”

            “Is there anyone UNDER the truck?” Snuffy asked, his bottom lip bulging around the tobacco he had hidden in his mouth (thus the nickname).

            “Nope. Not as far as I can tell.’

            We grabbed flash lights and headed to the truck. He was right. No driver, no passenger. There was, however, a baby seat, which gave us pause. The truck had landed in such a way that the guys were able to push it so we could peer underneath and make sure there wasn’t a tiny body stuck under the metal.

            There was a farmhouse tucked away, off the road. A good mile hike. We’d either have to walk to it or drive off the turnpike and get back on in order to get to it.

            “What do you think?” Ray turned to us.

            “I’m not walking there.” I said. No way, no how. Not in this frigid weather, and not on an empty stomach.

            Ray didn’t even bother asking Snuffy.

            The Trooper shrugged. “Ah, if someone walked to the house and had injuries, I think they’d have called by now.”

            It was too early, too wet, too cold, in the morning to have to really think about it, so we climbed back in our rig and headed into town. Ray chatted about possible scenarios of what could have happened to the driver of the truck. Snuffy growled when appropriate, and I climbed out of my wet bunker gear.

            A few blocks away from the station there was a Yum Yum Doughnut coffee shop. I’d rather have an egg and bacon for breakfast, but since I was dying for a cup of coffee, I begged Snuffy to stop.

            “I’ll even buy you something, as long as you keep it under a buck fifty.” I told him.

            As usual, whenever an ambulance pulls into ANY place, people stare at us like we have purple skin and three heads when we walk through the door. We got the looks, of course, but then someone said excitedly, “Are you hear for the people in the accident?”

            What?

            The patron pointed to the far end of the counter where a man, a pregnant woman, and a toddler were sitting, the only people in the place NOT looking at us.

            As soon as we approached them, the woman started crying hysterically. “Please don’t take my husband away, please don’t take him away.”

            They were, indeed, the accident victims from the turnpike. Someone had stopped to help and they asked for a ride back into town. Turns out, the husband had an arrest warrant issued for him and they knew if they went to the hospital, his freedom would be cut short.

            I don’t know how he did it, but Ray charmed them into going to the hospital. Promised he wouldn’t tell the cops, but he knew the doctor’s would have to report it.

            It was such a short ride to the hospital that I didn’t have much time to talk to them, which was fine because I was feeling a bit woozy:

1)      I STILL hadn’t had any coffee.

2)      I could not believe the way fate had intervened and we had found our missing accident victims.

As soon as we dropped them off at the ER, we got hit for another call. By the time we got back to the hospital, a police car had arrived for the ‘wanted’ man.

I learned two things from this call:

1)      When you’re thinking should I stop for coffee now or later? Now is always the answer.

2)      When you’re trying to outrun the law, never hide in the doughnut shop.

Excerpt from Girl Medic - Confession of Chaos and Calamity Behind The Lights and Sirens. 
Available at BN.com and Amazon.com

The Seventy Year Old Lady Who Loves Her Some LSD

"Humor is the shock absorber of life: it helps us take the blows."- Peggy Noonan

Our patient was in her seventies. She lived in a one-room apartment filled with nothing but dust and old newspapers and crushed cigarette boxes. A few cans of half eaten tuna fish sat on the chipped orange counters. The walls were vintage hunting cabin (you know-fake, dark, drab, paneling). I about gagged from the aroma of fish, urine, and stale smoke. The patient’s daughter had called, concerned because her mother was ‘too thin’ and didn’t seem to be ‘in the right frame of mind' lately.
   
We took her vitals. Her blood pressure was low. Her heart beat rapid. She wheezed when she spoke. She did not want to leave her swanky home to go to the hospital. She did not want to be poked and prodded and besides, you couldn’t smoke in the hospital.
   
But she liked Jamie, who was the medic in charge.
He was tall, lean, blonde hair, blue eyes.
   
“Will you sit with me in the ambulance?” she batted sparse eyelashes.
   
 “Sure.”
 
“I’d like to park my slippers under your bed,” she smacked her cracked lips together.        

Jamie’s face turned red as the rest of us laughed.

 In the back of the ambulance she turned to me.
 
“Have you ever had LSD?”
 
I dropped the IV bag I was spiking and glanced over at Jamie- his eyes bugged out like a cartoon character hit over the head with a fry pan.
 
“L…S…D?” I practically screamed the letters to make sure she heard correctly, and that I had heard correctly.

“Honey, I’m not deaf. Yes, LSD.”

 “No. I have never had LSD,” I recovered the IV solution.
 
 She clacked her tongue and shook her head, “Every girl should have LSD.”
 
Jamie leaned toward her and took her long splintered fingers and held them.
 
“Have you had LSD?” he asked.
 
 “Oh, my, not for at least 20 years.”
   
Jamie looked at me and I shrugged. Nothing surprised me anymore.
   
“You do know what LSD is, don’t you?” his words were kind, not sarcastic.
   
“Of course!” she rolled her eyes. “L…S…D," she waited a beat then continued, "Long Slim Dick.”
     
I found I could still be surprised after all.
     
Jamie and I laughed so hard, tears spilled down our cheeks.
     
There was nothing wrong with her frame of mind!

Excerpt from Girl Medic - Confession of Chaos and Calamity Behind The Lights and Sirens. 
Available at BN.com and Amazon.com
 

Girl Medic - Confessions of Chaos and Calamity Behind the Lights and Sirens

Finally! The book I've been promising to publish is here!
I wrote most of theses essays many years ago (hence the odd formatting) and hesitated to publish it for many reasons...one being that I am not a fan of rehashing the past.
My past hasn't always been easy and it's been filled with lessons - some, unfortunately, took me years to learn.

I wasn't sure if I should be totally honest and name names, but then I was given this great advice: "You own everything that has happened to you. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have treated you better."

So, some people are named and spoken of warmly, and some are named and spoken of in the same manner they treated me. And some are not named, because either I didn't want to embarrass them or I didn't want to embarrass myself (once was enough!).

The fact of the matter is...EMS and the people I met and worked with, the patients, the challenges, pulled me out of despair not just once, but twice. I am so very grateful for the years I spent around some of the most giving, loyal, courageous, funny, people on earth.

Now sit down, shut up, hold on, and buy the book already!!!


Girl Medic: Description: 
Laura B Freed never imagined she’d be crawling into crushed cars to start IV’s on unconscious patients or crawl on her hands and knees through a burning house to locate possible victims.
Laura was a girly girl, loved all things pink and sparkly…and hated the sight of blood and bones.
Her life did not go as she had planned, because perhaps, life had a plan of its own.
She has seen the worst in people; she had seen the best.
Laura has struggled to make sense of death and in doing so, has come to the realization that in order to understand death, first, we must understand life.
Girl Medic takes the reader on a secretive journey behind the lights and sirens. It’s a true story about accidents and destiny, and illuminates how we can find meaning in tragedy, comedy in calamity, and of course, exposes the importance of wearing clean underwear.


 Available on Barnes & Noble Nook for 2.99

Girl Medic was pulled from Amazon because they have confusing terms that constantly change and have treated authors horribly. It was a tough choice because I want it to be available on all formats, however, Amazon has become more and more un-trust worthy.

Secrets Of Working At Wegmans - Part 1

I worked at Wegmans.
I loved Wegmans. I was a fan when the first store arrived in Warrington, Pa a few years ago. I hated the weird ceiling though. The store itself was so big and the cafe upstairs so awesome and then you have this freaky ceiling with exposed pipes and odd beehive looking material surrounding it.

However. The bakery! The takeout bar! The upstairs cafe! Then they added a beer section.

And then they started changing. I've heard, it was probably not long after the founder, Robert Wegman died.

Anyway.

The first thing I started noticing was Wegman's started replacing my favorite brands with their own brands. And I tried Wegman's brand - and some of them are pretty good, but most, I've had bad luck with. I've found tiny branches in Wegmans peanut butter, the Wegmans Olive Oil lids often never close properly, the soup (canned not plastic tub) is horrendous, and the frozen meatballs which daughter loves when I make sweet/sour crockpot meatballs - were so bad daughter would not eat them. She could tell the difference right away. The sour cream? Tasteless.

Now, look, I get they are trying to make money (yet, they constantly badger they are all about the customer, which, after working there, I can honestly say from what I've experienced... they are not) but it's totally frustrating when they stop carrying a favorite well known brand (or are always 'out of it' - so that the shopper must choose the Wegman brand).

The other thing they do is change the store around. A-LOT. Like, complete store changes. In Warrington they said this was to make it similar to the Montgomeryville store (the 3rd time it changed). Customers openly complained as I shopped beside them, and I chimed right in. The sad thing is, the employees you complain to have absolutely NO voice when it comes to corporate. What corporate says goes; no matter how often you call the Wegman's store number or how often managers report customer complaints, 90% of the time, it falls on deaf ears.

Example: The layout of the Montgomeryville Store. The bakery (where I worked!) is one of the top selling departments. In every store the bakery is joined with breads and breakfast - HOWEVER, corporate decided not to do this. They made the bakery smaller and attached it to the pizza/sandwhich shop. The walk in freezer in the bakery was super small and often the boxes were loaded to the ceiling and I can't tell you how often boxes fell from the top. A safety nightmare. Then, they put bread ACROSS from the bakery and oh, yeah, to make things even more confusing, they put the birthday cakes no where near the bakery. People asked how I stayed so skinny working at the bakery...I said because I was constantly walking people over to where the cakes were!

Okay. Whew! I'm taking a break here. I didn't realize I had so much to write about. More later.

ps: I still shop Wegmans, mostly because their prices are still lower than most places around me.

Timothy DeFoggi on Lena Dunham's Bush!

Lena Dunham and Timothy DeFoggi 

I'm so glad Lena Dunham is outraged over the sex scandal at the White House.
Oh wait, silly me. She isn't upset that Timothy DeFoggi, The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services kept its acting cyber security director on the government payroll for eight months while he was in federal custody for child pornography charges which he was convicted of on August 26th, 2014.

Lena Dunham is upset and warning people NOT to look at hacked nude pictures of Jennifer Lawrence. Because, apparently, those hacked" nude photos objectifies women!" sobs Lena who makes her living appearing nude on toilets while eating, and makes money from a show that has women strutting around naked and having lots of sex. So, I guess what Dunham is trying to say, is that, if SHE IS NOT THE ONE making money by objectifying women - she objects!

Now, onto Timothy DeFoggi. Of course, main stream media buried this story. One - it's yet another embarrassment to the Obama Scandal  White House - I mean, seriously, it's not only so so so wrong regarding the sex with children aspect, but also, when the Cyber Security Director can't even cover his own tracks... does Obama even KNOW about this? Oh well, as long as the golf courses of America are protected, Obama is losing no sleep.

Oh, and in case you missed my Lena Dunham parody...



Democrats. They can't do anything right. Please save the American Dream from stupid - don't vote Democrat. Like, ever. Again.

BEMO Social Camera - Review

BEMO, Baby!

After my surgery, though the pain subsided after a few days, my anemia decided to move in like college graduate who voted for Obama moved back into her parents' basement.

I know this is a side effect of surgery and I know it will eventually get better (eating beans and eggs (be grateful you can't smell me over the internet...yet), taking vitamins, and resting after doing extra-ordinary tasks like washing dishes. All 4 of them.

Anyway, I was sent this BEMO social media camera to review. It's totally fun. It was the second thing that really got me excited and energetic (I can't tell you the first, it's a secret, however, it has nothing to do with sex. Or drinking.)

I spent hours (ok, maybe only 2 hours)  playing with the BEMO and for the first time since my surgery, I felt creative. I love this little camera. I can think of only a few people who wouldn't love this camera!

John. My dogs. And the people who haven't bothered to MUTE me on Facebook (allegedly for my sarcastic Democrat memes - I think they just can't handle how awesome I am).

So, since this is the only thing that gets me up off the couch (other than opening cupboards to see if Oreo cookies have magically appeared (and am always disappointed they haven't), I'd have to say this one fabulous fun device. And of course, it was free. And you know my saying: If It's Free, It's For Me (this is the one similarity I have to Democrats!).

Bemo, baby!!

So That's What Happened To Lois Lerner's Hard Drive!

Oh look everyone. Obama's on vacation. Again. At Martha's Vineyard. Remember when Michelle told American's we had to sacrifice and cut back? I guess that doesn't apply to the Obama's. For Democrats that really hate the 1% - they sure do like to act like them.

If they really believed what they preach, they'd be vacationing in Detroit. That city could use all the money they'll be spending. And what a great place to beat the crowds.

Dethrone the Democrats like your life depends on it. Because it does.

The Laziest Gun In The World

Jesse Ventura is a POFS.

And that's all I have to say about that. Hope he doesn't sue me.

Police K9 Rocky Needs Help - Jenkintown

Bloat.
It's how we feel after we've had too many bacon cheddar burger and fryrings (fries AND onion rings).

K9 Rocky 

For adults it's rarely fatal (unless you're Kim Kardashian, then it's a life altering event).
For dogs, however, it's often fatal, and many times it's not caused by what they eat, but how fast they eat.
K9 Rocky from Jenkintown, Pa, was rushed to vet when he suddenly became ill.
(Just to be clear - we have a police K9 at home who is also named Rocky, but he does not work for Jenkintown.)
The vet hospital was able to save Rocky - who is mending but is not "out of the woods" quite yet.
As reported by NBC Philly News - the K9 department is run solely on donations and Rocky's health insurance had lapsed 2 days prior to his emergency illness. There is a bill of about 8,000 - which the University of PA is accepting payment on as donations funnel in.

You can contribute by donating a tweet or facebook status to help get the word out, and/or by donating to Jenkintown Police K9 Donation Account, 700 Summit Avenue, Jenkintown, Pa. 19046. 

Thank you and good luck Rocky! 

Warning - Before You Help Find A Missing Dog - You Might Want to Think Twice

 

“We’re looking for a missing dog, can you help?”

That one plea for help while I was out walking my dog turned into days of searching, using social media to spread the word, and ultimately - some volunteer "expert" telling me she was in charge, I needed to stop helping, she was an expert, and then she called the police and the police called me.

WOW.

Short story version: Dog with cancer goes missing from a vet cancer center in my community. 3 days after dog is missing, I set up a website that has a name that’s easy to remember (www.findtully.com) – with his picture that the Vet sent me and the numbers that I was given (by the vet office). One day later get a long screeching voice mail and  phone call from Susan, who is “in charge” saying she's from Animal Lifeline (not the Vet office) and orders me to take the website down immediately. She is an expert!! And it looks bad for the vet office!  And then a few hours later, I get a call from the police.

Long Story:

On Friday, March 21^st, I was walking my dog when a pickup pulled next to me and, of course, at first I thought this might be a kidnapping attempt so I was very cautious (I’ve watched MISSING) .

Frankly, my dog is almost as heavy as I am and unless the people in the pickup truck had a box of hotdogs – there was no way they could lug both my dog and me in the pickup.

The couple in the pickup looked distraught.

They gave me the details: The dog had cancer. Was a Sheltie. Shaved back legs. Tully was it’s name. It had been receiving treatment for cancer at the vet on Butler Ave in Chalfont. Missing since Thursday.  Tully is not from the Bucks County area.

“How did he get lost?” I asked, as curious people do.

The lady hesitated then told me he slipped out of his collar when the vet office had him out for a walk.

Ok, look, shit happens. It has happened to me. Much worse than that. No matter how much you THINK you might be taking all precautions, shit happens. That’s why they are called accidents.

“Who should I call?” I asked the lady in the passenger seat.

When people approach me for help looking for a lost pet – I’m always grateful if they have a business card or flyer, or something I can hold on to so if I do spot their pet, I can notify them.

“Hold on,” the lady said. She wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to me . It was the phone number for the vet’s office.

As I walked the rest of the way home, I kept my eyes open for Tully.

As soon as I got home, I looked up the website for the vets office; I was sure they would  have posted a picture of Tully and that he was missing: Nothing.
 

There was no picture on the website or their facebook page. There was a picture on there facebook of some employees in their St.Patricks day festivities, but no picture of Tully.

I called a lady I knew who lived right behind the vet.

“I’m not home, but I saw something about it on Facebook,” she said. "My husband is keeping an eye out for the dog."

So I was then wondering; she had mentioned there was a posting on the missing dog on Facebook.  But where on Facebook? I checked all the local FB places and didn’t see anything.

I called the Vets office and explained I’d love to help – did they have a picture and I’d help spread the word?

They emailed me a picture.  Tully was so cute. My heart was broken for the owners.

 I realized the number the people in the truck gave in case I found Tully, was the Vet office. It was Friday. Would there be someone there to answer the phone at night? I called back.

“If it’s after hours and we find the dog, what number should I call?” I asked.
The employee gave me a cell phone number.

My husband and I then searched the woods behind our house. I talked to our neighbors who lived on the edge of the woods that crossed over to the park. They hadn’t heard about a lost dog. I gave them the information I was given - the same information by 2 different people.
John and I went into the park where I stopped moms’ watching their children practice, couples walking, single people walking. None of them had heard the news. And I saw no posters. No flyers. I wished I had some easy thing for them to remember to look up for info, since I still had no idea where this was posted on facebook.

“Something super easy to remember,” I told John.

When I got home, I tweeted the information. I posted on facebook. I searched and searched facebook until I FINALLY found reference to Tully – it was buried on the Doylestown closed Facebook group page (because people are constantly posting) – and there was yet another different number to call.

You can't share the post, because it's a "closed" group - so I had to create my own facebook post.  

“There has GOT to be an easier way!” I thought.

And that morning, when I woke up, I was still thinking about Tully. And he was still missing.

Then it came to me. Duh! I could set up a website that would have all his info in one place. No searching on facebook like I had done. Easy to remember to tell people when I was out walking.

And so I purchased the domain and set up www.FindTully.Com. I didn’t want any connections to my entertainment persona, so I didn’t link to any of my other websites – didn’t have my name attached to it. It was a simple picture (that I was sent by the Vets office) and the numbers I was given: by the people in the pickup on Thursday, and by the Vets office (twice) and then the third number I was given by this lady proclaiming to be in charge.

After work on Saturday, John, Katie and I took the dogs for a walk. I put up flyers. We walked to the park and I stopped people and told them about the missing dog and to go to www.FindTully.com and it has his picture and numbers to contact.

And on Saturday (3 days since Tully had gone missing) – there was now a poster in the park.

On Sunday, I get a voicemail from Susan (the lady in charge she claims). I am ecstatic, thinking they found Tully!  And then I listen to the voice mail and it’s not good news – in fact, I’m being ordered to take down my website. And I'm told it looks bad for the vet office to say the dog disappeared from the office,  

I get a message on my facebook from her to take down all the facebook posts!

What? I’d talked with several dog lovers/owners and we had agreed that we’d have everyone we knew searching for-about-ever and  put up posters EVERYwhere. Tully was seen by the park we live by and, until Saturday, we hadn’t seen any flyers/posters.

As I'm listening to her voicemail, she calls me again.

She went on to tell me that “they” knew what they were doing – and I didn’t have permission to use Tully’s picture.
The conversation is long, mostly filled with Susan telling me how much of an expert she is - but basically, this sums it up:
"You can't use that picture of Tully - you don't have permission."

“Ummm, this is the email the Vet's office sent”

“You have the WRONG NUMBERS listed. It should only be ONE number - MY number!”

“These were the numbers the vet office gave me. The third one is your number that I found on your facebook page.”

“Well, I am an expert at this, you are not.”

“If you’re such an expert, how come you didn’t set up your own website for Tully …oh..say…4 days ago when he went missing?”

“It wasn’t 4 days ago! I was 3 and a half! And we did set up a website!”

“Oh, really, what’s it called?”

No Answer.

“What’s the website called that you set up to find Tully?”

No answer.

“Okay,” I finally say, this is, afterall, about finding a missing dog.
Or so, that's what I thought it should be about.   

“Well,” I said, “how about I remove the numbers for the vet office and just leave your number.”

***is this happening? Am I in grade-fucking-school?****

“NO! Take down the website! If we don’t find him today, we will tell you what to write and you can put it up tomorrow! It looks bad for the vet office!”
Over 14 minutes of her blabbing about her expertise- – the more it became apparent the Vet Office was afraid they might look bad. Which would explain why they didn’t announce he was missing on Facebook – and why they wanted my website down.

But man, here’s where I got stuck. I really wanted to help Tully. His owners had not contacted me and asked if I would take it down. No one from the Vets office contacted me. Just this craa-craa Susan. And it seemed to me, if a dog went missing from my business – I don’t care if it was the business’s fault or the dog owners fault, I would have made sure to post it on the vet facebook page for the office. I would be on the Twitter. I would have figured out a plan of action the day he went missing and had everyone at work be on the same page: Stick with one number. On the first day!
Accidents happen, but it’s what you do after they happen that makes a difference. You get your shit together.

 

I go to work. And when I come home, I have a voicemail from a local police officer. He wants to talk to me about the missing dog.

I can't believe Susan is trying to use the police to intimidate me. Wow, seriously?
When I return the officer's call, he had left for the day.

 

Sunday night,  someone on Facebook posted that Tully had been hit by a car on 202 and was deceased.

I am super sad for Tully. Super sad for his owners.

I am not sorry that I tried to help find a lost dog. I am sorry that I spent so much time worrying and walking and talking and creating – only to get hit with a pie full of nasty, unprofessional, ego-maniacal  ranting.

To wrap it up: Dog with cancer goes to Vet – Dog goes missing. No one puts dogs information or picture on vets faceook page (Susan tells me they don't know how to do that). Vet emails me pictures for flyers. Gives me a day number and night number. I set up a simple website to help spread the word– and then I get calls from one screaming lady and one very calm police officer.

If my dog had been at ANY business and had fled, as a business, I would hope they would have cared about getting  my dog back no matter how it might reflect on the business!
I would hope they would  have posted on their facebook, created a page specially for him for the people in the community to access quickly and easily.

The first thing I did when I got home after being notified was look on the Vet's facebook page.

 

The way I was treated by Animal Lifeline and the way VOSRC mishandled the situation, makes me cringe when I see the DONATION button (on both) their websites. Perhaps Susan needs to take her donations and use them to learn how to communicate better with people, and VOSRC should go over how to handle emergencies.

I see this type of thing happening more frequently - "volunteers"- suddenly believe they are  "experts" and then promise they can help you. People, who are in vulnerable situations, defenses down, see a business card and are assured the person is an expert, and they believe.

And trying to use the cops as a method of intimidation - immature.

One has to wonder, if a website for Tully (that took me all of 10 minutes to make) had been created on day one; an easy to remember website name, all info together, easy to communicate when standing in line, or talking to people at the park, or in your office – how much different this story might have ended. But then again, I'm obviously no animal expert like Susan. All I've got is common sense. 

One of the many lessons I learned from this incident:

I'll ask what will happen if my pet goes missing from the vet - will they post it on their FB? What emergency plans do they have in this sort of situation? (I have never, EVER thought to ask that).
.
 RIP TULLY – you went off to heaven on a cloud of tears made up of people who didn’t know you, but who were trying to reunite you with your family.  Much peace, furry friend.

Missing - Tully: Dog With Cancer

Missing: Tully, dog battling cancer; please call 610-864-9162

Update: Tully was struck by a car and killed on the evening of 3/23.
RIP Tully.

Tully is a Sheltie dog who was receiving treatment for cancer at Veterinary Oncology Service in Chalfont, Pa (right across from Borghis. He fled from the area of Park Avenue in Chalfont.

Tully is reported to be friendly - and his back legs are shaved from treatment. Please, keep your eyes open. Check your backyard. Sick dogs often tire and hide under sheds/porches. Please help spread the word. I can only imagine how scared this dog must be. And as I love dogs more than I love bacon, my heart is breaking for Tully's family. Let's help get Tully back home.

Herm Edwards Reminds Hillary Clinton It Does Make A Difference

Love this clip from Herm Edwards.
If Herm had been in charge of Benghazi - well - at the very least 4 Americans would still be alive.
Hillary "What Difference Does It Make" Clinton should take some advice from Herm - "When you tell me it doesn't matter - it's time to retire."
Not only do I think Hillary should retire - she should spend that retirement in jail.
Because the failure to protect Americans - the failure to send help - the coverup - and the failure to bring those to justice makes a huge difference to the 4 dead Americans and their families - and here in America, as the White House so constantly preaches, We Are All Family.

The Happy Mixer - (Because Sugar is Quicker Than Liquor)

Happy Mixer Peanut Butter Delight

As fabulous as Wegman’s bakery is (the cutest decorated cupcakes & sugar cookies you’ve ever seen at the Montgomeryville Store!) – they do not make gluten free cakes.

However. There is a relatively new bakery in Chalfont that does. It's called the Happy Mixer.   I'm in loveee and I don't care who knows it (movie quote)! 

I don’t need to eat Gluten free. But I’m always up for sweets. So yesterday, I popped in (because it’s right next to the Wine and Spirit’s Store, HELLO!!)

It’s a very small bakery. But good things come in small packages (seriously, don’t believe the hype about the bigger the better!). I tried the peanut butter delight. OMG. It tastes just like a Tastykake Candycake. It was sooo good, I told the cashier in the wine store about it (he knew and agreed).

I also tried the crème filled cake donut. OMG. It tasted just like a powered donut with rich cream filling. So good! The kiffles (strawberry, raspberry, apricot) were just ok for me. I do like the kiffles at Wegman’s a bit better.

Now, remember, I am not ‘gluten’ free – but for me, the doughnut and peanut butter delights were superior or just as good as ANY I’ve had.

I’m excited to go back and try everything else!

Don’t let the “Gluten Free” stop you from considering a visit to this “sweet” bakery!

Love it!!! 

ps- I have no idea if sugar is quicker than liquor. It rhymed and we all know I love a good rhyme. Because I'm super fine. 

The Happy Mixer - Gluten Free Bakery

New Britain Village Square

4275 County Line Road, Chalfont, Pa 18914

phone 267-663-7209

The Town That Refuses To Work With Assholes

Living It Up in Whitefish Montana. 

Last Summer, John and I vacationed in the FABULOUS small town of Whitefish in Montana. It's like a Doylestown only cars actually stop and allow people to cross the road and their police reports are some of the funniest reading material I've ever come across. 

I loved and adored everything about Whitefish. EXCEPT. 

Except everywhere we went, they only served Pepsi. I would rather drink water than Pepsi. We have thought about moving to Whitefish...but I worry about the winter (hate the cold) but even more, I hate the Pepsi. 

Finally, at a pizza place (and this pizza place was called like Jersey's Pizza or something - oh, and GREAT pizza!) they had Diet Coke. I was quite excited. 

 I asked the waitress (who turned out to be the wife - co/owner of the place) why no-one carried Coke products. 

"Because the Coke sales rep is an asshole. The only reason we serve it here, is because my husband loves Coke and so we grin through it and do business with the jerk." 

And yet, another reason to love Whitefish. 

They realize the power of sticking together and using their voice (er...in this case, their wallets)...to send a message that assholes won't be tolerated. 

They don't look to the government to solve their problems. 

What consenting adults do in the privacy of their homes is not my business. If a cafe doesn't want to serve me a bacon cheeseburger because I'm a girl, that's fine, I'll go to a place that will serve me. If someone believes in God and sells only crosses and communion wafers - awesome. If someone believes in Allah and feels bacon is evil, who am I to point out their obvious lack of good taste?

We were voices and the power to make choices. Running to the government is handing over your power to effect change. It's like being 35 years old and calling in your mother to come to your office and confront the co-worker who ate your wheat grass granola free granola. 

Man the fuck up, America!!!!  

Cutter's Mill Sold To Concord

I loved Cutter’s Mill.

I say “loved” because Cutter’s Mill has been sold to Concord.

The odd thing is, I didn’t know this until about a week ago when I popped in and the store was re-arranged (so frustrating. Seriously. Wegman’s seems to have a really hard time keeping things in the same spot and I find this so annoying). There seemed to be this odd vibe (seriously, not making that up!) and I realized I hadn’t seen any “coupons” in my email for quite some time. Also, the area usually filled with inexpensive chews was empty. The empty bins did have price tags, however, and they were far more expensive.

When I went to checkout, I wasn’t asked if I had a Cutter’s Mill card. I mentioned that I hadn’t been receiving coupons and that’s when I was informed Cutter’s Mill had been sold to a company called “Concord.”

I was kinda devastated.  

The coupons have disappeared with promises that “our prices will be lower.”

I haven’t seen the lower prices yet, though the Chalfont employees tell me it’s because their computers are the last to be “upgraded” and we will ‘soon see lower prices.’

The last time we were there, we weren’t asked to “round up” and donate the extra to the SPCA. I generally HATE being asked for donations (I can’t seem to shop anywhere w/o being asked to round up or donate a dollar to help someone, something… (ever notice that the CEO’s of these non-profits make like, almost half a million dollars?) – HOWEVER- I never ever mind being asked to donate and always round up for the SPCA. What can I say – I love animals – generally, they have no ulterior motives. They want to be fed and loved – I’m down with that!

I’ve noticed my favorite employees have been MIA but don’t know if it’s just bad timing (when I shop they are off) or if they’ve been let go or perhaps moved on to different (hopefully better) options.

But, it’s really not even about the prices or the layout. It’s about the general spirit of the store. It doesn’t seem to be as welcoming, as friendly. Cutter’s Mill wasn’t just a store, it was a shopping experience. Concord just feels like a plain ol’ store.

Oh, AND Cutter’s Mill had a fabulous return policy. Now, with Concord, you can only return for a store credit.

I am so bummed. I’m going to give it another month or so, but judging from all the complaints on the facebook page, it seems like Concord says “We want to listen to customers and keep all the things they loved about Cutter’s Mill” but what they say and what they do don’t jive.

A very sad goodbye and thank you to Cutter’s Mill. You are missed.

This is video from a few years ago at Cutter's Mill when we surprised Katie with a new puppy. We had dropped off the puppy and Rich had made a tag that read "this dog belongs to Katie." When we dropped in to go shopping, we were admiring the cute puppy and Rich asked Katie to hold him. Then Katie read the puppy's tag. She later said she couldn't believe this adorable puppy was actually part of our family (however, she quickly changed his name from Bob to Jack!). 

How To Stop Nomination of Debo Adegbile (cop hater, race baiter)

Putting Debo Adegbile in charge of Civil Rights is like putting Woody Allen in charge of a daycare. 

Short Story: For those in Pennsylvania-please please call Senator Bob Casey at 202 - 224- 6324 and leave a message or tell his staff to vote NO on the Obama radical nomination of Debo Adegbile to head the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice.  Tweet to Casey using @SenBobCasey and use hashtag #NoDebo
If you're reading this from outside of PA, please call your Senators tell them No Debo and tweet #NoDebo (thank you!).

Debo Adegile voluntarily took the case (after the conviction) of Mumia "Cop Killer" Jamal only to profit off race baiting. He slandered murdered Officer Faulkner and his family.  Democrats blocked Faulkner's widow from testifying. Read more here. Or listen to a great interview Chris Stigall did with State Rep. Mike Fitzpatrick here.
The nomination of Debo passed the Senate Judiciary Committee - with all Republicans voting NO and all Democrats voting yes. The next step is a vote in the Senate. Of course, it's not being made public when (and if) this vote is going to happen. Like everything ANTI-TRANSPARENT the Obama administration does, they are trying to squeak this by, which is why it's so important to make some noise and let them know we're watching.

Long Story. What does Obama, Oprah, Beyonce, Collin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, Halle Berry, Denzel, Chris Rock, (I could go on, but you get the picture) have in common?

All successful black people.

Democrats, however, have made a living preying on minorities. Why? Because to obtain power, to get people to vote for them, they must make people unhappy so they can then "fix" it.

Democrats never point out the fabulously successful black people (hello, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES! But yet they profit from claiming black people still have "a long way to go?")

Please. Is there still hate toward blacks? Yep. And there is hate against whites. Jews. Conservatives. Women. Fat People. Skinny People. Sara Palin. Kardashians.

Should people be prosecuted for hate crimes? Absofuckingutley. But let's start prosecuting the black people who are targeting Jews, Women, and White people in the "knock out game."

Why does the media only report white on black crime? Because it serves the Democrat narrative of victim.

Because Democrats seem to believe black people are too stupid to stand up and say, "Stop TAKING FUCKING ADVANTAGE OF ME!"

And that's what Debo Adegible is doing - preying on minorities, exploiting civil rights in order to cause anger and hatred and doing it by putting politics over police.

We need to send a message to ALL politicians and media that we are tired of being exploited, tired of hatred and disunity being rammed down our throats. And stopping the nomination of Debo Adegbile is a great place to start.

Criminals Targeting Democrats - Liberal Looting

When your bumper sticker and voter registration makes you an easy target for violence...

Next time you see a person climbing out of a car with an "Obama" sticker plastered on it (ever notice those cars are often top of the line cars? You'd think they'd drive clunkers since they are keen on everyone being treated the same and that signs of wealth are vulgar!) - you might want to warn them about the new crime wave targeted at Democrats.

According to an anonymous source in the Philadelphia Police Department, criminals are following cars with Obama and/or Democrat (Pro-abortion, Global Warming Is Real, Hillary 2016, , etc.) stickers on cars, knowing that the owners of the car don't own guns and the only self defense they know is to cower behind the couch and scream, "Take Everything!!"

The Philly cop said they initially called it "Liberal Looting" - but they are starting to notice a pattern of violence and think it may have escalated as a sort of hazing into the gang(s) (targeting Democrats).

There are also (allegedly) crime waves occurring in the suburbs of Montgomery and Bucks County of registered Democrats. Crafty Criminals  are circulating voter registration logs. Cops think it began with the drug addicted thug of an Organizing for America (Obama's "grassroots' volunteer organization) copying the list (ALL political parties keep and work off the county voter registration rolls). It soon became known that Democrats were the easiest targets and required the least effort.

I have to admit - there is a part of me that wanted to remain silent and allow the anti-cop; pro criminal, anti self-protection; pro-big-govt afflicted Democrats to learn the importance of the second amendment - but then I would feel guilty if that old white haired man driving his Audi was beaten and robbed because I let him drive around with his Obama/Biden 2013 sticker leading criminals to his house like a beacon in a fog light. Or like Miley Cyrus to a bag of blow.

Please pass this information on to the Democrats Driving In Cars and leave it up to them if they want to scrape off the stickers on their cars. Or to re-register Independent.
If they care about their family as much as they care about making a political statement, they'll put the safety of their family first.  If not, well, I can go to sleep at night (or nap during the day) knowing I warned them they are the perfect targets for criminals.

Irony Alert: Democrats have fostered a culture of being lazy; rewards without work - and now even criminals have found shortcuts for less work, more stuff!

Leanne Bearden Dead, Charlie Parker Moron?

Leanne Hecht Bearden was found. She is dead. She was found less than a mile from the house she disappeared from. Police state that they did not search the area because her husband had said he had already searched it. 

She is not off "finding herself" as her husband gave as a possible reason for her "sudden" disappearance. She was not trying to re-invent herself as Charlie "GumShoe" "Hey, I starred in the movie IMPOSTER" Parker concluded. 

The Short Story:  – After arriving back in USA in December, 2013 (couple had taken 2 year honeymoon around the world) Joshua Bearden reported his wife missing on January 17^th. Leanne and Josh had stayed with her family in December 2013 and then went to Texas (where she went missing as reported by news outlets, after they had an argument…hmmm) Joshua stated Leanne was having a difficult time adjusting to life. The family hired Charlie “Gumshoe” Parker and after examining the couples shared computer, P.I. Parker concluded she had ran away. Parker took to Twitter saying “We’re coming for you Leanne!” 

After watching the movie “Imposter” in which Charlie Parker “starred” – I was quite positive this case was doomed from the start and after a few hours of research on Parker, Leanne’s family, the social media sites set up for Leanne, and watching (with growing horror) the comments Leanne’s husband made on the Facebook Page devoted to finding Leanne, it didn’t take a someone with half a brain (yes, I have just half, I admit it, but my half is obviously far greater than some really empty heads running around the world) to figure out that Leanne’s family had been duped.

Long Story –

Joshua Bearden told police Leanne had left for a walk, that she was having trouble adjusting to life back in the states. He told everyone this. Repeatedly.
Enter Charlie Parker, PI. Some guy who worked in the lumber business but (20 years ago) became a “volunteer” investigator (kinda like community policing) and he and a group of people got together to try to “solve” missing people cases. Charlie has a Twitter Account, and in his timeline, he would tweet all about the movie “Imposter” and articles that swooned over him.
I watched it. HOLY SHIT PEOPLE, this movie is EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG WITH THIS WORLD. It is the TRUE story of a family that is duped by a FRENCH brown eyed black haired dude Frederic Bourdin, passing himself off as a blue eyed blonde hair  abducted 13 year old boy named Nicholas Barclay. Not only is the FAMILY duped, but the government is duped.  How. Can. People. Be. So. Fucking. Naïve.

Because they want to believe. It’s quite that simple. People don’t want to be wrong. It’s an ego thing. And we are wired to think anything is possible (if not – why would we attempt to do things that seem impossible, like climb in a huge machine and “fly” like a bird). And in America, we have fostered the idea that criminals are somehow victims and “be nice to criminals – they have feelings too!” Oh. Really?

Anyway. It only took minutes before Charlie Parker really grated on my nerves. It was clear Charlie was all about Charlie. “I did this, I did that…I’m the smartest person aliveeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

There’s a great quote you should memorize (well, I’m not telling you WHAT to do, I don’t work for the government, so I’m merely suggesting) – “The more he talked about what an honorable man he was, the faster we counted our silverware.”

If you don’t know what that means, please make a donation to Anita Charity – she is makes a living through generous giving.

Oh Boy. And then, after the French Criminal was exposed (Charlie wasn't the first guy that made the connection, if you read old articles, specifically the article by Nick Davies, you'll discover other people had been questioning but the movie paints Charlie as the smartest PI aliveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)  the criminal told Charlie and the Govt. Official that the FAMILY had murdered the boy (Nicholas Barclay) he was pretending to be. And Charlie believed the criminal. He actually took a shovel and started digging in the house the family had  lived in, SURE he would find the missing boy’s body. (He did not).
I could not believe what the family had gone through, and  now, here is Charlie and the government official trying to claim that the mother murdered her son!
What. The. Fuck.
In the movie, Imposter, Charlie claims it was Bourdin's ears that made him realize he was NOT Nicholas Barclay. Because "something I learned by watching Scotland Yard movies."
Buttttttt, when I did some research on Charlie, I found that Nick Davies articles from 1998 in which Charlie claims it was the boys eye color that tipped him off.
So, somehow between 1998 and the making of Imposter, the story changed.
I don't know why...maybe ears seems to be a bit more 'educated' than realizing eye color doesn't match. However, as anyone in the wrestling and boxing world will testify to, ear shape can change. So, put that in your PI pipe and smoke it, Charlie. 

Charlie Parker’s website is a joke. It is old and clunky. There are a few “Missing” cases that boast “SOLVED!” but they never say exactly how they were solved or who solved them. And then when I researched a few of those cases, it became clear that one of the cases was solved because a serial killer admitted to it after he was caught. Charlie Parker had NOTHING to do with the closure of that case.

After Charlie Parker was hired to investigate Leanne’s disappearance, he came to the conclusion (after examining the SHARED laptop computer of Leanne and Joshua) that Leanne had left on her own and was trying to escape. The Leanne Bearden Facebook page went from her family pleading for help to find her, to pleading with Leanne to come home – because they, too, were duped by not so brainy Community Sluice GumShoe Charlie.

Charlie tweeted about going to homeless shelters looking for Leanne. Coming home with heavy heart when he didn’t find her.

Given the absolute horrid website design; that Charlie believed the lies of a serial fraudster, and his education in PI work comes directly from Scotland Yard tips he’s picked up over the years, I knew it would probably be very easy for Josh to play the grieving husband and, being a “shared” computer, it would be very easy to create a internet “history” of researching how to run away from your own life, and then planting that seed in Charlie’s head, and in Leanne’s family.

No one wants to believe that a husband is capable of killing his wife. People don’t want to see the truth that is staring at them (see the movie Imposter – Netflix). We truly want to believe the best in people. But that’s exactly how people become victims, and how people get away with…well, murder.

I wish people would start truly caring about their community – because if they did, they wouldn’t allow crooks, frauds, bullshit artists (or, as I like to say, Whorons) to prey or exploit their friends, their neighbors, their family.

I don’t believe Charlie Parker is purposefully evil. He certainly is not slick (see Obama for definition of slick). I think Charlie really does want to think he is doing good. But I also think Charlie continues to profit from a moment in his past (long, long ago), and because of this, he gave false hope to the Hecht family and friends of Leanne.

Let’s wake up, people. If it smells like shit, and taste like shit, it’s certainly NOT bacon.

If you truly value community and want to protect our each other, it’s time to stop making excuses for the crooks, the frauds, the fuckers, and start making noise.

Put the predators on Notice.

Leanne Bearden was a victim not only of a murderer (her own hand or someone else), but also of a (my opinion) an incompetent Private Investigator. Leanne's friends (the Hecht side) are also victims - pointed in many different directions (the clue is in who did the pointing) and they should NOT be blamed for picking up the "she escaped her life" narrative and running with it. (We all want to believe the best case scenario).

The Garden Ridge Police department released a statement that Leanne hung herself.
Well Ok.
This is coming from a police department that searched 23 miles but somehow failed to search a property less than a mile away.
From a police department that ruled out the husband almost immediately (and took his word he searched the area).

"You do not know Joshua Bearden! He could never ever hurt anyone," A family member had stated.

To which I would reply..."But didn't you also state that Leanne would never ever leave her family so abruptly?"

So you see...one of these statements must be false.

Anyway, it's sad, it's tragic, but the reason for this blog post comes back to Charlie Parker - and how easy it is for people to be duped. The Barclay family was duped by a habitual criminal. Charlie Parker was duped by the criminal. Charlie Parker dupes desperate people. And either Leanne Bearden duped her family or Joshua Bearden did.

Lessons to learn: 1. If you're going to commit suicide, leave a fucking note - send it in the fucking mail so your fucking family doesn't get blamed for it and your family doesn't go bat shit crazy.

2. Don't hire a Private Investigator that tweets what he is doing.

update: 2/17/14 - The Facebook page for Leanne has been since been deleted.

Meet Anita Charity - And Help Bring Awarenss to Occasional Seizure Disorder of Chocolate Labs!

When I walk Jack, I listen to Entrepreneur on Fire. I started listening because it was a nice change up from politics and for the most part, inspiring. People making a living pursing the American Dream. Occasionally, however, there would be guests who were obviously nothing more than snake salesmen (women!). And I was like, "people are stupid enough to give these morons money?"
And then one day there was a chick on and her "business" was making money off of "Bringing Awareness to the Sex Slave Industry Day." She had tried other ways to make money, but hit pay dirt when she created a "charity."
And then there was the chick who majored in Gender Studies and Poetry in college. And her she came up with the brilliant plan to "start selling even before you have a product."
Some of this stuff was so ridiculous.
One day I was thinking of names I would choose instead of my own name and John suggested, Anita Martini (or, it might have been Bacon). But I loved the idea.
And then, somehow, Anita Charity was born.
And so I hope to entertain you AND bring awareness to how people make money off blind compassion/stupidity/ignorance (it's quite outrageous the amount of money CEO's of "charities" are making -who's REALLY getting your donation."

Anyway, I'd like to introduce you to Anita Charity - she's quite the character.