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Maps to the Star’s Homes

New York Maps to the Star's Homes

Frankly, the looters and arsonists are picking the wrong targets. There are much juicier targets than the shops on Madison Avenue and Fifth Avenue.

The Star’s homes house a collection of the finest wares in the world, and they’re all ‘woke’, and wouldn’t mind if somebody paid them a visit, stole what they wanted and set the place on fire, would they? No.

A lot of stars are paying to promote looting and pillaging. They’d welcome a little more attention, because if there is one thing about Hollywood types, they are ATTENTION WHORES.

In fact, there is little that would be more ‘woke’ than traveling to various ghettos and handing out maps.

In New York City the DA won’t prosecute and they don’t require you to post bail if you’re caught. But we know that actors wouldn’t press charges anyway, would they? Of course not.

In Los Angeles they are significantly de-funding the police, so there’s not going to be anyone to catch you anyway.

Star Maps for Looters

Vigilante Moon (part two)

Scene from: The Untouchables (1987), screenplay by David Mamet

Captioned photo credit:  The Untouchables (1987), screenplay by David Mamet

Story copyright © Larry Lambert, 2016-2020

This is a component of a fictional law-enforcement related story that I started in 2016 and it appeared on the blog back then. I’ve since spent some time fleshing it out into a novelette length in my spare time, but frankly, there hasn’t been much of that. It’s the journey of Police Sergeant Michael Francis Xavier Muldoon and his journey through the dystopian world of law enforcement, set sometime in the future.

I hope that you enjoy–

Vigilante Moon, continued

I supervise a foot beat because I’m inept at collecting. I’m simply not a very good earner, and neither are the guys and gals who work for me. The good earners gravitate to vice, narcotics, intelligence and traffic enforcement where the big money is raked in. The elite executive protection and Party Liaison squads who protect police commanders and Party officials and provide drivers and bodyguards to the great and near great don’t have to be good earners. They simply need to be brutal. In the past year we’ve seen slots in Party Liaison go to leading members of the Brotherhood of International Workers and the International Service Employees Union rather than to trained and vetted police officers. One sergeant’s billet in the Public Control Bureau went to a member of the National Transportation Worker’s Local 919 last month, but I think that he landed that because his father is an alderman in the Twenty-Fourth Ward.

I knew Halvard Drummond from when he worked as a shop steward at Reliable Trucking. He moved directly from an army officer’s slot to the shop steward job and now he continued his career path with the police department’s Civil Unrest Division. Such were the sacrifices required by the party.

I mentioned Drummond, because it finally clicked that he, Drummond, was the person who didn’t fit in, outside the window at the Indian Restaurant. He’d been dressed up to pass for a street vagrant, but it was Drummond. The only remaining question was why he was there.

“Dewey, I saw Howard Drummond outside just a minute ago.”

“Was he wearing his army captain’s uniform, his shop steward shirt or his police Gestapo outfit?”

“Neither. He was dressed up like a bum.”

Dewey said, “That’s odd, he’s the sort of guy who likes to let you know he’s there.”

I stepped out into the sunshine and looked around but I didn’t see Drummond. So, I walked out onto the street with my lunch wrapped in a tortilla forming a burrito, and ate as I watched. If you never wore a badge, you won’t know what I’m talking about. Civilians walk the streets or ride on trams and don’t pay attention to the people around them. All I’ve done is watch people and where a civilian wouldn’t see anything amiss, it stands out to a cop, particularly one who walks a beat. Drummond stood out as if he wore a neon sign.

Dewey followed me a moment later. “Do you think it was Drummond, or maybe a bum that looked like Drummond?”

I stared at Dewey.

“Okay, Michael Francis Xavier Muldoon, you’re never wrong about a thing like that.”

“That’s right, I’m not.”

I noticed another bum who looked out of place stood down the street, but it wasn’t Drummond. His eyes were fixed on the Third Interstate Bank building. I crossed the street and walked over to him, finishing my burrito with one last delicious mouthful, and gulping it down, said, “Step into my office.”

He looked up at me. Face well shaved, plump bordering on over-fed, dark eyes in a skull framed by a raggedy, hooded parka, gerry curls drifted out next to his face.

“Pull back the parka hood.” He complied and I saw hair styled with long, greasy ringlets.

Dewey followed me when I walked over. “What do you make of that?” He saw the same thing I did.

I pulled my electroshock blaster/stunner from its holder and twisted the charging handle. It gave off a low hum and vibrated as it powered up. You can say one thing for the Party. They like their troops to be well armed.  In addition to a conventional pistol, I carried the blaster, two conventional hand grenades, two stingball grenades, and a short sword with a sharp blade on one side and an entry blade for chopping doors down on the other. Oh, yeah, and the 245 Gonzales sap.

“Break out identification,” I ordered.

“Don’t have any,” the wealthy-looking man, slumming in low street clothing replied.

No bum would ever say that because failure to identify always ended badly for them. I put his age at somewhere between thirty and thirty-five. His eyes darted to me, then to Dewey, then back to mine. “If he wasn’t there, I’d take you, flatfoot.”

Dewey still walked like a police sergeant, talked and behaved like a police sergeant and kept his lion-colored hair hair spiked in what had become the police fashion.

What to do?

I did what anybody on the beat should do.  I fired a blaster round at him. Each blaster fired up to forty rounds called ‘bees’ that were about the size and shape of a large bumblebee. Each bee had a potent enough charge to put a horse or cow on the ground and into convulsions. They completely incapacitated a healthy human being. If the human being in question had health issues, it could be fatal.

It wasn’t fatal to the fake bum, because I only fired two bees, but it did put him into convulsions.  I hadn’t deactivated the bees and they continued to send a gazillion volts through him.  So he bucked and twitched, foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog and his bladder and intestines voided. Only then did I deactivate the bees.

Dewey walked back into his pawnshop once I handcuffed the bum. He watched from a distance because he’d done the same sort of thing himself countless times and knew that encapsulation was coming. When I keyed the microphone, it sent out a GPS signal with my precise coordinates. There are also GPS transponders that we’re supposed to wear, but none of those work.

I called for the Short Bus on the radio for a transport.  The armored three-ton “Short Bus”  (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected) six-wheeled paddy wagon roared up while he was still twitching, though now handcuffed and searched.

Corporal Bruce (Blue Moon) Mooney worked for me and drove the armored car that was mine-proof, bullet-proof, grenade-proof, everything but idiot-proof.

“What ya got, Sarge?”

Mooney had a long, hang-dog, wrinkled face. He’d been on the job twenty longer than me and had a serious alcohol problem, which is why he drove the wagon. It was almost impossible to dent the Short Bus no matter what you hit, and he hit a lot of things when he was in his cups.

I handed Mooney what I found on the guy. “His name is Mark Fuller and he’s carrying army credentials, even though he’s out of uniform. He’s also got a small army issue handgun.”

Mooney bagged the ID and gun, then I handed him the magazine I’d taken from the pistol. “It’s one of those fancy pistols that only fires if the DNA of the trigger puller matches the chip in the weapon.”

“Exploding rounds.” Mooney marveled.

“That means he’s either a very good army imposter, a deserter or he’s a soldier here on the street out of uniform, wearing long, curly hair, with a yen to hurt a cop.”

“Did he try anything on you, Sarge?”

“He wanted to, but I blasted him for good measure before he got the chance.”

“Good thinking.”

“The word is ‘proactive’, Corporal.”

I helped Mooney lift Soldier Mark Fuller into the coffin on the back of the wagon. They aren’t real coffins. They look like metal coffins and we use them to transport incapacitated prisoners. It’s officially called encapsulation. You dump the prisoner in the coffin and it’s moved into position on top of the wagon by means of a hydraulic hoist.

Before the coffin snapped shut, Drummond walked up to me, dressed in his bum clothing.

“The damned blasters are effective.” Drummond observed dispassionately, “But you’ll have hell to pay.” Then he looked up at me, because I’m taller than he is.  “Yeah, they’re with me. They’re from the Federal Protective Police.”

The coffin lid snapped shut. Mooney toggled the hoist.

“Nobody told me about an operation in my district, Drummond. The rules call for me to be informed. If I’m not, I’m not responsible for any pre-emptive action I take.”

“The Protective Police can do more or less anything they want because they guard the Party’s elite.”

“He doesn’t have police identification. He has army identification, he’s out of uniform, and he may be a fancy fed, but he wasn’t blaster-proof was he?”

Drummond’s voice grew plaintive, “I said he was with me, Sergeant Muldoon.”

“How many times have you busted my chops, Drummond?”

The coffin clanked home on top of the wagon and the retaining latches engaged.

Drummond shrugged. “Fuck ‘em. Frankly, Muldoon I don’t care much about the guy. He treated me like a local.”

“You are a local,” I pointed out politely, “and so am I.”

“I was an army officer, a federal officer,” Drummond said somewhat wistfully.

“You’re a Party man. You do what the Party says, right?” Drummond looked at me hard and I saw for once that he wasn’t all together pleased with who he was. I filed it away and slapped the armored flanks of the wagon. Blue-black smoke belched from its smoke stacks as it powered up and lumbered from the curb into the street.

Lieutenant Rudolph Chang, even more of a lush than Corporal Mooney, served as the watch commander and my immediate boss for the South Side. Drummond called ahead so Chang was aware of something afoot, but neither he nor Drummond cracked the coffin with Soldier Mark Fuller, or whatever his real name was, still stuffed in it. In fact, Drummond was nowhere to be seen.

A couple of hours had passed since Mooney hoisted it onto the wagon. I didn’t like being called a flatfoot, so I let the situation mellow. I imagined that it was getting ripe in there – and hot. Oxygen ported into the coffins by way of ducting so unless he vomited and aspirated it, it was unlikely he’d die from asphyxiation while confined. But if he wasn’t dead, he’d be conscious and furious inside the coffin with his full trousers getting raunchier. The early coffins allowed prisoners to claw the lid from the inside, but these formed a tight seal and it was hell for people with the slightest hint of claustrophobia.

I met the lieutenant near the wagon. Mooney stood more or less to attention.

“Muldoon, what are you doing out there on my streets?” Chang asked. His Asiatic eyes were narrowed to even finer slits than they had been.

“Earning, Lieutenant Chang.”

A light went on in Chang’s more or less pickled mind and his eyes opened, hopeful. “What did you come up with, Muldoon?”

“Contraband alcoholic beverage, no tax stamps. A whole case of Tullimore Dew export grade.” Dewey gave me the case to bring in with me because he thought somebody was going to be upset about the electroshocked fed.

Chang pulled me aside by the arm, out of earshot from Corporal Mooney. “Where did you find it?”

“Not far from where I arrested this guy. I think maybe he’s an army deserter and had the stash.” Untaxed alcohol is a very serious crime as are all crimes where a Party stamp is required on goods.

“Someone is coming to collect the prisoner, but there is no need to indict a young soldier for that sort of indiscretion, is there?”

“For wanting a drink? Certainly not, Lieutenant Chang. Perhaps you could book the evidence, or destroy it. It’s not a task I want to delegate to Corporal Mooney because he’s a man given over to drink and might consume some of the contraband in the process of its destruction.”

“I agree to take charge of it. Where might it be?” Lieutenant Chang licked his lips involuntarily.

I handed the lieutenant the keys to my black Mariah, the armored cruiser that I drove – perquisite of a sergeant because of Party membership. “It’s in the back, under a blanket.”

Lieutenant Chang took the keys and that’s the last I saw of him on that shift. I found the keys to my car on his desk later that day.

“Drop the coffin, Mooney. Let’s see what we have inside.”

Mooney had the coffin half-way down when Captain Wilbur Drake walked up into the enclosed bay, called a sally port, that held the Short Bus. Two civilians in natty business suits followed him.  One short, the other taller than I am.

Drake had an anger problem as severe as Chang’s drinking problem. He always traveled with a full head of steam.

“I think you pissed off Captain Drake.” Mooney said to me.

“You’ve got a remarkable grasp of the fucking obvious, Blue Moon,” Captain Drake told Corporal Mooney. Drake is known for his remarkably acute hearing. Some credit that and that alone to his rise in the ranks to Captain. Others attribute his rapid promotion to a wife that didn’t hesitate to pleasure superior officers who had the power to recommend for promotion.

Drake talked a good game when he chewed me out, but he used to work for Dewey when he’d started on the department and as a result, I know where the skeletons are buried. I always took the reprimands with due humility, but knew that he knew, that there were limits. For the most part, he’d yell at me in public to let everyone know I didn’t enjoy any special privileges.

“One of these days, I’m going to grab you by the stacking swivel and shake the stupid out of you, Muldoon.”

“I’m a poor excuse for a sergeant, Captain Drake.”

Drake ordered, “Drop the goddamned coffin and let’s have a look at this—pride of the Federal Government.”

Mooney lowered the coffin to the concrete deck and toggled the release button. Air hissed and the retaining latches snapped open.

Agent Fuller sat up, forming a ninety-degree angle with his waist as the pivot point.  He sucked in a deep breath. My eyes began to water from the corrupt smell erupting from the coffin. Vomit, shit, piss and every other possible leakage from a human orifice each had their own peculiar offensive smell. When combined, the synergistic effect made me want to puke, but I didn’t.

“I’m gonna kill you cop!” Fuller croaked, looking up at me through puffy, red eyes.

The shorter of the two feds spoke up.

“Shut your cock holster, Fuller.”

Fuller closed his mouth as ordered.

I went away with the feds and Captain Drake while Mooney took a fire hose to Soldier Fuller, or whoever he really was, and the inside of the coffin. Thankfully, the interior of those coffins are designed to be washed and reused without much more than a fire hose blast.

The shorter Fed identified himself to me Erasimo Tambunga. Many of them take African-style names because it is the fashion and demonstrates their commitment to African heritage whether they are genuinely Africans, part African, or not. Soldier Fuller’s skin had a milk chocolate luster. Tambunga had skin black as anthracite, but it was a pigment enhancer that he’d taken. If you want to play to trends, you get a skin job.

“Fuller is a trench monkey, Sergeant Muldoon. I’m sorry if he caused you any trouble.” That sort of language coming from a fed constituted an ominous change in behavior. My guard snapped up though my face remained a mask of appreciation. “But he’s out there on the street on a special mission. Alderman Wlibur Quail is missing and we suspect foul play.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of that.”

Tambunga said, “I argued for letting the locals know but it’s a Party matter first when one of our leaders is unaccounted for.”

“Can I tell my men to be on the look-out, Agent Tambunga?”

“You can call me Erasimo, and yes I think that it’s time we put the word out that Alderman Quail may be the victim of foul play. As a police sergeant, you know that subversive elements remain in our model society no matter how well off the citizens are. There was even a serpent in Eden, Sergeant Muldoon.”

We created this worker’s paradise when we became Sheeople, and the greed of the common man overcame his willingness to work for the good of all. The myriad of labor unions and the Party itself formed a living, breathing thugocracy that existed to serve its own ends.  We were divided and then we were conquered by our own.

Ehigie, called Eggy, ran Rubin’s Deli, the Rubin family having moved on two decades previously. He hailed from Nigeria and didn’t talk much about his life there. Eggy didn’t talk much about anything. People rarely came to the deli because he served Nigerian food and there were very few Nigerians in the city.

Dewey thought that the local politics were foolish. Eggy didn’t talk to Silky Jackson, who ran Girls-Girls-Girls because Silky was a high yellow negro and Eggy’s skin was so black that very little light reflected, at least that’s how Dewey saw it. It turned out that the strip bar that Silky built near his dining establishment had offended Eggy’s sense of modesty. People misunderstood race to mean agenda.

As I mentioned, Nelson Begay ran an Indian restaurant – Not a restaurant serving East Indian food. Nelson served southwestern cuisine because he came from Gallup, New Mexico, not from Bombay or Calcutta.

And me? When Tambunga told me about the Wilbur Quail abduction, I became as alert as a mouse at a cat show. When had Wilbur been abducted? Marie Watts almost raped me after work a week ago, probing about what I knew about what. Marie was the station clearing barrel, and a tool of upper management. The term clearing barrel refers to the red, sand filled barrels used to verify that small arms are unloaded before turn in. Police officers preparing to turn in weapons line up and dry fire their rifles into the barrel. Some called her the ‘department groundsheet’. The presence and agenda of Marie Watts made me wearily contemplate some idiotic or malicious decisions by higher-ups. She never appeared unbidden. But maybe, just maybe it had something to do with Alderman Quail.

Advanced as we had once become, we were hurtling backwards into a new dark age. I saw it every day, felt it with every sunset and retrospective glance at the day before. In the story of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, the main character, Hank Morgan, a mechanic in an arms manufacturing plant woke up one day in King Arthur’s England. He did everything that he could to advance the backwardness of the peasants and royalty alike, but in the end it all came to naught, as the people were forgetful and more comfortable in their ignorance. All of the advancements he made to the civilization in which he found himself were wasted, and there’s the nugget of truth for today’s civilization. Perhaps it had something to do with the end of reading as a pastime. People preferred to be force-fed trivia through video screens and pads. Electronic games replaced learning by offering endless entertainment.

I might be a police sergeant supervising a street squad, but I could read contraband books the same as everyone else. In fact, other than the job and a wife who generally ignored me, the books were all that I had.  They told an ancient story that repeated itself over and over again through the ages, and in a weird sense, told my story.

We put ourselves in the same place that the Roman Empire found itself. The people who built and forged the institutions that made the nation great had long been dead by the end. Men like Scipio couldn’t reach out and teach the later offspring about life and how to wage war. Adaptation to the police state and thugocracy that I myself perpetuated was easier than struggling to keep things strong. Values were replaced by emotion and unbounded greed. It had become greed, more than anything else that bound the society. Every institution in the country had become corrupt at the Party’s urging. We became slothful, and failed in our basic responsibility to the generations to follow. A nation built upon optimism and faith, which sloughs off its beliefs will descend into hedonism, decadence and fatalism. And some operative in police management sent Marie Watts, the clearing barrel, to me to seduce information out of me that I didn’t have. It’s simply how things were done now.

Of course, I knew who had Wilbur Quail on ice. Who else? John Dewey had authored a training course on planned political kidnapping, he had a secret room under the Third Interstate Bank and he sat on a pile of cash from the armored car heist. He had the motivation, the skill and the bankroll along with the natural vindictiveness that all police officers harbored toward the politicians who treated us like servants or pawns in their power struggles.


When the complete novelette, Vigilante Moon is available, there will be a notice on this blog.

It Could Be Worse


When Will He Endorse?

Barack Hussein Obama (aka Barry Soetoro) is not popular on this blog. However, popularity notwithstanding, there is the nagging question that President Trump raised… What does Barack know that is holding him back from endorsing his former Vice President, creepy, corrupt, senile, old Slow Joe Biden?

I know that President Trump may be trolling, and the Chinese Plague will slow everything up, but he’s very been very slow to help his old buddy.

Publication Opportunity?

I need to write a book for our times called, “How to Make Money by Being a Government Informant”. It would be an instant best seller. I might ever get a daily slot on CNN giving helpful advice to would-be rats.

When you think about it, there’s considerable historical precedent for it.

Jesus Sought for Questioning?

(Babylon Bee) Roman authorities seek Jesus for violating the stay-in-tomb order!



It's the Sixties - with anarchist thugs thrown in


Bikers for Trump

Trump-supporting Bikers have agreed to ride once more. This time in an effort to liberate the illegal ANTIFA occupation of Seattle’s Capital Hill neighborhood, now called CHAZ. If the police won’t do it, the bikers vow to set things right. On Independence Day. Let’s face it, it gives them something to do other than hang out at a BBQ.

The siege may be lifted first, but don’t count on it. Worst case, watch the events unfold on your flat screen while YOU are BBQing. Social distancing and the plague seem to be in the r/v mirror.


Begging for Soy in Antifastan (Spectator)

In Robert Heinlein’s I WILL FEAR NO EVIL, he predicted the absence of police in ‘Abandoned Areas’ where no police went, save in armored cars, and as creative as Heinlein was, he wasn’t prescient enough to call this dystopian urban wilderness, CHAZ.

I encourage you all to read the article from The Spectator, cited above, and take note of the historical reference.

From one of the denizens of the new jurisdiction, who goes by the brilliantly unattractive Twitter handle of @anarchomastia (who we are given to believe is a person of, shall we say, exotic tastes in sexual behavior and gender):

The homeles [sic] people we invited took away all the food at the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone.

We need more food to keep the area operation. please if possible bring vegan meat substitutes, fruits, oats, soy products, etc. – anything to help us eat

CHAZ, the race-free, police-free, genderless home of free-food and free college education utopia.

One delightful side benefit to the progressive anarchist “independent nation” is that they selected the most progressive, leftist neighborhood in Seattle to occupy. Now the gender ambiguous rich Democrats who live(d) in Capitol Hill will get a taste of what they’ve been begging for, for so long. Except that the vermin now want to eat THEIR food and live in THEIR homes. I wonder if that will change a few attitudes?  I wonder if they’re enjoying the summer of love as their property values plummet and their insurance costs soar?

Maybe the rich progressives who live(d) in the newly occupied zone will take up a collection to feed the mob in perpetuity? It would be the progressive thing to do.

The Future of Nevada


Social distancing – on The Strip – in Las Vegas, Nevada?

Have you seen the photos? The Strip is DARK. It would be a great time to shoot futuristic dystopian movie about how the world went dark as the result of a Chinese biowarfare experiment that escaped containment that they blamed on bats

With the exception of on-line gaming, which isn’t all that fun unless you’re one of those people who is also inclined to wager on which fly buzzes off the cheesecake first, the engine that fuels Nevada is a social distancing nightmare.

The State of Nevada earns gaming revenue from three sources:

  • Sales Tax
  • Entertainment Tax
  • Gaming Tax

For the past three years under Trump, Nevada has been making money hand over fist and the state established a rainy day fund just in case something happened. It happened, and despite the gaming industry being included in the congressional bail-out, Nevada will be squeezed like a grape.

In Las Vegas (the Temple of the Living Elvis) a billion dollars changed hands every twenty minutes. It doesn’t anymore. It used to.

The economy will come back, but will people be comfortable crowing into theaters to see an aging music artist or show the way that they used to? People have short memories, but are they short enough to keep the gaming/entertainment/food and beverage business alive in Nevada?

For now, the gaming industry is still sending checks to furloughed workers, but how long will that last?

I used to consult with the Nevada Gaming Control Board on money laundering and taught a few classes on the subject. What will the money launderers do? What will the hookers do? What will happen to the underground economy that kept a lot of money moving, changing hands (a billion every twenty minutes) in The Temple of the Living Elvis?

Wuhan Death Toll


The Headlines

Locals in Wuhan believe 42,000 people may have died in the coronavirus outbreak there not the 3,200 claimed by Chinese authorities. (more here)
I have no idea what the true numbers are. I doubt that we will ever know because it’s a state secret in China. But those numbers are more in line from what I heard from people on the ground in China.
It’s also premature to presume that the current numbers being reported by the Communist Chinese Party are accurate.

More Peril for Baby Yoda?


China Nationalizes

The People’s Republic of China found yesterday that their strategic supply of face masks has been depleted and they moved to remedy the situation by nationalizing (and scrutinizing) the production of both surgical and N95 face masks. This will control how many masks are retained in China and how many will be available for overseas customers. It will clearly impact my newly minted business.

Rogue Wuhan? The Chinese in Space?

(h/t Searaigh) People have dire predictions for the future of mankind as China decides to move into space and eat everything including Baby Yoda.

Is outer space the ultimate wet market? Can the madness be stopped? Is there another virus out there that can blunt the relentless feeding attack of the People’s Republic of China? Watch the video.

It’s Slow Joe

The DNC paid Bernie off and the path to the nomination is clear for Slow Joe Biden, the senile, corrupt, creepy, former vice president. Some of the Democrats are calling for NY Gov. Cuomo to be Biden’s running mate despite Joe’s promise to tag a woman for the #2 slot. That’s not really a problem for the DNC. Cuomo can self identify as a male lesbian or as a woman and Joe’s promise can be made good. After all, isn’t gender just a construct. Cuomo already has pierced nipples. Doesn’t that count for something?


Sunday Sermonette



At Minneapolis PD

Minneapolis PD, 1867-2020

46 officers put in their papers for early retirement. 14 police officers quit. Everyone else is looking to lateral to another police or sheriff’s department if anyone will take them. The common theme is, “you’re on your own”.

So maybe the city’s problems are solved. They can hire social workers to respond to 911 calls the way they have said that they want to.

What could possibly go wrong?

And to the progressive folk who live in the city, I hope you enjoy watching property values decline and insurance rates skyrocket.


CW, The Older Years

A shameless plug for CW at the Daily Timewaster


St. Lucia

I’ve stayed here at the Ladera Hotel on St. Lucia. The hotel is very nice, as are many resorts on the island. But the island itself has a lot of very poor people (ghetto island in many respects). Best stay on the resort property if you visit. Not that it’s difficult to hang out and not leave.


Nothing Has Changed Since Day One 

This is the message of your Sunday Sermonette

Go ahead, take a bite.


Free States vs Not Free States

Where do YOU live?



With the coming of riots, which followed murder hornets, and will be succeeded by flesh eating zombies, you can go back to Corona if you’d like. Stay thirsty.


Somebody Else riding a Ducati Diavel

You can do a wheelie in fourth gear without much effort.

Engineering Viruses


 Editing Viruses    (and engineering them)

OriGene, a US company headquartered in Rockville, MD, appears to have been the originator of the tool of choice used by the Chinese Bioweapons Laboratory embedded within the Wuhan Virology Institute. I called Thursday in preparation for this piece and they hung up on me. I called again, and spoke to somebody higher in the food chain and they said that they were at the cutting edge of creating a cure for COVID-19, which may be true. They build tools.

I’m not blaming OriGene, providing that they supplied the Communists with gene editing equipment as has been suggested. There was no law against it and that brings into question the USA and the protection of the public from an enemy nation… Presidential aspirant Slow Joe Biden took a $1.5 billion gift from the Communists, but the mainstream media won’t discuss THAT.

(From the website) CRISPR/Cas9, is an RNA-guided targeted genome editing tool which allows researchers to do gene knockout, knockin SNPs, insertions and deletions in cell lines and animals. The CRISPR/Cas9 genome editing system requires two components: Cas9, the endonuclease, and a guide RNA (sgRNA) which guides Cas9 to a specific location in the genome sequence. With the protospacer-adjacent motif (PAM – the sequence NGG) present at the 3′ end, Cas9 will unwind the DNA duplex and cleave both strands upon recognition of a target sequence by the guide RNA.

Did the Communist Chinese blend COVID with HIV RNA as has been alleged in publication after publication? It’s likely. It also explains their reluctance to alert the world when they learned of the release.

I’ve asserted this many times and will do it once more (for the record). Any genetic testing laboratory in China will also have a military application. That is how they roll. It’s how they have always operated. And they view anyone not in the People’s Republic of China (and many ethnic minorities in the PRC) as enemies.

It’s time that we behave as if they are an enemy to the United States and to the world. (more here on Chinese Espionage)

The Advice Corner – Not quite Dear Abby.

Don’t worry about what I’m doing. Worry about why you’re worried about what I’m doing. If everybody likes you, you have a serious problem.

Some people never are able to go crazy. What horrible lives they must lead. – C. Bukowski

If you can’t imagine her throwing a Molotov cocktail, I don’t think that she’s the right girl for you.

I think that’s enough advice for the moment.

The Supply Chain under Quarantine


I read an article recently that described how the toilet paper industry is split into two, largely separate markets: commercial and consumer.

The pandemic has shifted the lion’s share of demand to the latter. People actually do need to buy significantly more toilet paper during the pandemic — not because they’re making more trips to the bathroom, but because they’re making more of them at home. With some 75% of the U.S. population under stay-at-home orders, Americans are no longer using the restrooms at their workplace, in schools, at restaurants, at hotels, or in airports.

Georgia-Pacific, a leading toilet paper manufacturer based in Atlanta, estimates that the average household will use 40% more toilet paper than usual if all of its members are staying home around the clock. That’s a huge leap in demand for a product whose supply chain is predicated on the assumption that demand is essentially constant. It’s one that won’t fully subside even when people stop hoarding or panic-buying.

The industry can’t just flip a switch. Shifting to retail channels will require new relationships and contracts between suppliers, distributors, and stores; different formats for packaging and shipping; new trucking routes — all for a bulky product with lean profit margins.

Toilet paper is a high volume/low value item. The industry runs on extreme efficiency, with mills built to work at full capacity around the clock even in normal times. That works because demand is typically so steady.

There is a concern in the world of toilet paper manufacture and distribution: If toilet paper manufacturers spend money now to refocus on the retail channel, they’ll face the same problem in reverse once people head back to work again.

“The normal distribution system is like a well-orchestrated ballet,” said Willy Shih, a professor at Harvard Business School. “If you make a delivery to a Walmart distribution center, they give you a half-hour window, and your truck has to show up then.” The changes wrought by the coronavirus, he said, “have thrown the whole thing out of balance, and everything has to readjust.”

Just Like That


duct tape,

a mask,

a Colt 1911 with four spare magazines,

surgical gloves,


and plastic sheeting

In your trunk –is now politically correct.


People say that things eventually come around . I knew that one day I’d be accepted as normal…

Worth 1000 Words? Maybe Fewer?

First impressions count, so I’ll offer first impressions of these photos. You can do likewise if you are inclined. It’s Sunday afternoon and we’re still all under quarantine. Fish is on the menu this afternoon. I usually don’t comment on meals here at the White Wolf Mine, but  things are somewhat slow. I’m on the phone for work, but things are somewhat slow.
Afternoon Nap
This reminded me, of me, waking up from an afternoon nap, only to find that it’s still light outside.

Cockeyed Dog

My first thought was that it reminded me a bit of a younger version of the Joe Biden we see running for president. Slow, possibly not knowing whether to sh1t or go blind, goofing his way through a corrupt political system, which must be much easier if you’re suffering from dementia and you aren’t sure what day it is.
Mitch McConnell in his former life? The resemblance is striking. And while I bear no ill will toward the Senate Majority Leader, we’re going with first impressions here.
It’s true. Not fake news. Not in the least.
The diamondback rattlesnake is emblematic of my new home state of Arizona. True, we have a professional baseball team of the same name. And there are a lot of snake-related decorations that adorn the freeways in the Phoenix metropolitan area.
It’s sort of a desert, don’t tread on me thing that applies to Arizona. If you don’t live here, stay away. Enough California people are here. The day I arrived, the quota was filled.

The Ferret

Ferret Armored Recon Vehicle.


If you’re thinking of gifting something to somebody who would appreciate it, think no further. I believe that I could use a Ferret as a ranch vehicle…and to support local efforts to keep the great unwashed masses in line.  Buy here. I prefer the Mark 2/3 with the turret, but any model will do.

I first came into contact with this cool little scout car in Northern Ireland:

The Ferret armored car, also commonly called the Ferret scout car, is a British armored fighting vehicle designed and built for reconnaissance purposes. The Ferret was produced between 1952 and 1971 by the UK company Daimler. It was widely adopted by regiments in the British Army, as well as the RAF Regiment and Commonwealth countries throughout the period.

An ambitious American manufacturer could start building them for American domestic use (in private hands) during the “troubles” here. I mean, if the government is going to defund the police, we’ll need to start commuting in these.

There are variants to the basic armored car”

Mk 1 – (FV701C) No turret

Mk 2 – 2-door turret from Alvis Saracen APC
Armament .30 Browning MG

Mk 2/3 – rebuilt to new specification
Armament .30 Browning MG

Mk 4 – (FV711) Reconnaissance vehicle with 2-door turret from Alvis Saracen APC

Ferret Armored Car Specifications

Weight 3.7 t
Length 12 ft 2 in (3.7 m)
Width 6 ft 3 in (1.91 m)
Height 6 ft 2 in (1.88 m)
Crew 2 (commander, driver)
Main armament – 7.62×51mm NATO GPMG
Engine Rolls Royce B60 Inlet over Exhaust I6 petrol
130 hp (97 kW)
Power/weight 35.1 hp/ton
Drive train 4×4
Operational range -190 mi (310 km)
Speed 58 mph (93 km/h)

That baby would look mighty good with an Arizona license plate on it.

Motorcycles in the Era of Chinese Plague

Monument Valley

Yesterday, I took the She Devil (my Ducati Diavel) into Phoenix for routine service and new tires. The dealership where I got the work done was empty of customers with the exception of me. But they had a nurse to check temperatures and insure that everyone wore a mask. Thank heavens the nurse was a pretty lady. I accused her of being a “fetish” nurse, but she assured me that she was a regular nurse when she took my temperature and gave me the once-over before allowing me to walk back to the service area. Once back there, all of the employees including the mechanics wore masks. The experience was a little weird in a state with no helmet laws. I wear a helmet as a matter of practice just because of habit even though few do in AZ.

(above, the latest nursing fashion in the era of the Chinese Plague)

You’d think that the motorcycle community would have had enough of the Chinese Plague. There are certainly a lot of (gucci) bikers showing up on the rural blacktop up near the White Wolf Mine, and I haven’t seen any of them wearing masks. I haven’t seen many outlaw types up there so I only mention the regular folks who gather with other like minded people to go for runs into rural Arizona. Restaurants open up on Monday, so there will be a LOT MORE coming up into the area to stop at the usual watering holes, so popular with the two-wheel crowd.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike (almost) fetish nurses checking me out. Where have they been all my life?  But the whole heavy PPE thing in an empty motorcycle dealership with the staff behaving as though the Plague had come just seemed discordant.

But summer has come to the high country and I plan to lose myself on the mountain roads while enjoying the weather and the season while riding the She Devil.

The Story

Burning Minneapolis Police Car

STATEMENT OF PROBABLE CAUSE for the warrant for the arrest of Officer Derek Chauvin, Minneapolis Police Department 5/29/2020

On May 25, 2020, someone called 911 and reported that a man bought merchandise from Cup Foods at 3759 Chicago Avenue in Minneapolis, Hennepin County, Minnesota with a counterfeit $20 bill. At 8:08 p.m., Minneapolis Police Department (MPD) Officers Thomas Lane and J.A. Kueng arrived with their body worn cameras (BWCs) activated and running. The officers learned from store personnel that the man who passed the counterfeit $20 was parked in a car around the corner from the store on 38th Street.

BWC video obtained by the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension shows that the officers approached the car, Lane on the driver’s side and Kueng on the passenger side. Three people were in the car; George Floyd was in the driver’s seat, a known adult male was in the passenger seat and a known adult female was sitting in the backseat. As Officer Lane began speaking with Mr. Floyd, he pulled his gun out and pointed it at Mr. Floyd’s open window and directed Mr. Floyd to show his hands. When Mr. Floyd put his hands in the steering wheel, Lane put his gun back in its holster.

While Officer Kueng was speaking with the front seat passenger, Officer Lane ordered Mr. Floyd out of the car, put his hands on Mr. Floyd, and pulled him out of the car. Officer Lane handcuffed Mr. Floyd. Mr. Floyd actively resisted being handcuffed.
Once handcuffed, Mr. Floyd became compliant and walked with Officer Lane to the sidewalk and sat on the ground at Officer Lane’s direction. In a conversation that lasted just under two minutes, Officer Lang asked Mr. Floyd for his name and identification. Officer Lane asked Mr. Lloyd if he was “on anything” and explained that he was arresting Mr. Lloyd for passing counterfeit currency.

Officers Kueng and Lane stood Mr. Floyd up and attempted to walk Mr. Floyd to their squad car (MPD 320) at 8:14 p.m. Mr. Floyd stiffened up, fell to the ground, and told the officers he was claustrophobic.

MPD Officers Derek Chauvin (the defendant) and Tou Thoa then arrived in a separate squad car.

The officers made several attempts to get Mr. Floyd in the backseat of squad 320 from the driver’s side. Mr. Floyd did not voluntarily get in the car and struggled with the officers by intentionally falling down, saying he was not going in the car, and refusing to stand still. Mr. Floyd is over six feet tall and weighs more than 200 pounds.

While standing outside the car, Mr. Floyd began saying and repeating that he could not breathe. The defendant went to the passenger side and tried to get Mr. Floyd into the car from that side and Lane and Kueng assisted.

The defendant pulled Mr. Floyd out of the passenger side of the squad car at 8:19:38 p.m. and Mr. Floyd went to the ground face down and still handcuffed. Kueng held Mr. Floyd’s back and Lane held his legs. The defendant placed his left knee in the area of Mr. Floyd’s head and neck. Mr. Floyd said, “I can’t breathe” multiple times and repeatedly said, “Mama” and “please,” as well. The defendant and the other two officers stayed in their positions.

The officers said, “You are talking fine” to Mr. Floyd as he continued to move back and forth. Lane asked, “should we roll him on his side?” and the defendant said, “No, staying put where we got him.” Officer Lane said, “I am worried about excited delirium or whatever.” The defendant said, “That’s why we have him on his stomach.” None of the three officers moved from their positions.

BWC video shows Mr. Floyd continue to move and breathe. At 8:24:24, Mr. Floyd stopped moving. At 8:25:31 the video appears to show Mr. Floyd ceasing to breathe or speak. Lane said, “want to roll him on his side.” Kueng checked Mr. Floyd’s right wrist for a pulse and said, “I couldn’t find one.” None of the officers moved from their positions.

At 8:27:24, the defendant removed his knee from Mr. Floyd’s neck. An ambulance and emergency medical personnel arrived, the officers placed Mr. Floyd on a gurney, and the ambulance left the scene. Mr. Floyd was pronounced dead at Hennepin County Medical Center.

The Hennepin County Medical Examiner (ME) conducted Mr. Floyd’s autopsy on May 26, 2020. The full report of the ME is pending but the ME has made the following preliminary findings. The autopsy revealed no physical findings that support a diagnosis of traumatic asphyxia or strangulation. Mr. Floyd had underlying health conditions including coronary artery disease and hypertensive heart disease. The combined effects of Mr. Floyd being restrained by the police, his underlying health conditions and any potential intoxicants in his system likely contributed to his death.

The defendant had his knee on Mr. Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds in total. Two minutes and 53 seconds of this was after Mr. Floyd was non-responsive. Police are trained that this type of restraint with a subject in a prone position is inherently dangerous.

Big Brother is Watching


The Virtual Mirage Search Engine is there at the top of the page (or will be soon after this posts) for your benefit. It is an anonymous search engine. There is no way for anyone to backtrack you when you use it. You may know that Google is tracking you, but most people don’t realize the extent of their efforts to learn YOU.

Why Does Google Track You

Unlike searching here on Virtual Mirage, when you search on Google, they keep your search history forever. That means they know every search you’ve ever done on Google. That alone is pretty scary, but it’s just the shallow end of the very deep pool of data that they collect on people. What does Google share with the government? What does it buy?

Even if you don’t use any Google products directly, they’re still trying to discover as much as they can about you. It’s all in the code. Google trackers have been found on 75% of the top million websites. This means they’re also trying to track everywhere you go on the internet, chewing through your browsing history.

Most people also don’t know that Google runs most of the ads you see across the internet and in apps – you know those ones that follow you around everywhere? Google stopped being a search company anymore – they’re a tracking company. And they bring in many billions of dollars every year as they do it. They are tracking as much as they can and you see examples in annoying and intrusive ads, including recording every time you see them, where you saw them, if you clicked on them, etc.

If you do use Google products, they track you even more intensely. In addition to tracking everything you’ve ever searched for on Google, they also track every video you’ve ever watched on YouTube. Many people actually don’t know that Google owns YouTube; now you know.

And if you use Android, also owned by Google, then Google is also usually tracking:

If you use Gmail, they of course also have all your emails and contacts. If you use Google Calendar, they know schedule. There’s a pattern here: For all Google products (Hangouts, Music, Drive, etc.), you can expect the same level of tracking; that is, pretty much anything they can track, they will.

If you use Google Home, they also store a live recording of every command you (or anyone else) has ever said to your device! Yes, you heard that right – you can check out all the recordings on your Google activity page.

They will track everything you do on the internet. Even if you tell them to stop tracking you, Google has been known to not really listen, for example with location history.

You Become the Product

Why does Google want all of your information anyway? Simple: as stated, Google isn’t a search company anymore, they’re a tracking company. All of these data points allow Google to build a robust profile about you. In some ways, by keeping such close tabs on everything you do, they may know you better than you know yourself.

The result of all that tracking is that Google uses your personal profile to sell ads, not only on their search engine, but also on over three million other websites and apps. Every time you visit one of these sites or apps, Google is following you around with hyper-targeted ads, trying to influence your behavior.

It’s exploitative. By allowing Google to collect all this info, you are allowing hundreds of thousands of advertisers to bid on serving you ads based on your sensitive personal data. Everyone involved is profiting from your information, except you. You are the product.

The Myth of “Nothing to Hide”

Some may argue that they have “nothing to hide,” so they are not concerned with the amount of information Google has collected and stored on them, but that argument is fundamentally flawed for many reasons.

Everyone has information they want to keep private: Do you close the door when you go to the bathroom, or cover your windows when it gets dark? Privacy is about control over our personal information. We don’t want it in the hands of everyone, and certainly don’t want people profiting on it without our consent or participation.

In addition, privacy is essential to democratic institutions like voting and everyday situations such as getting medical care and performing financial transactions. Without it, there can be significant harm.

On an individual level, lack of privacy leads to putting people into a filter bubble, getting manipulated by ads, discrimination, fraud, and identity theft. On a societal level, it can lead to deepened polarization and societal manipulation as we’ve unfortunately been seeing multiply in recent years.

You Can Live Google Free. Start by clearing your Google search history. It might feel like you are trapped in the Google-verse, but it is possible to break free.

For starters, just switching the search engine for all your searches goes a long way. After all, you share your most intimate questions with your search engine; at the very least, shouldn’t those be kept private?

Virtual Mirage is just a blog, not a billion dollar machine that wants to spy on you. It’s also not the only anonymous search engine, but for those of you who frequent this blog, I can assure you that it’s free to use and free of spyware. And it’s part of this blog, which is evolving to be of more value to you as you visit.

-Larry Lambert, Happy Jack, Arizona, April 2020




The Prosecution of Derek Chauvin



I have no idea what the information (charging document) on Officer Derek Chauvin, Minneapolis Police Department, will look like by the time he goes to trial. There will likely be superseding charges for not only Chauvin, but for Officer J. Alexander Keung, Officer Tou Thoa and Officer Thomas Lane, in the matter of the death of George Floyd under circumstances that you are all aware of.

Let’s chat for a minute about major problems that confront the prosecution in this matter.

1. Training

Were the officers trained to subdue a combative suspect (in this case George Floyd) by ‘sitting or putting weight on’ his back?

I listened to the medical examiner for the family on Fox News. He was talking about what the officers should have known about medicine. Unless there is documented training that explains how the officers should have known about anatomy and medical specifics, that’s moot in trial.

Training and department policy are critical in this situation because if they were doing what they were trained to do, the best the prosecution can hope for is involuntary manslaughter. We’re talking about the criminal case, not the wrongful death case. That’s a civil matter and it is handled separately.

2. The Battle of Medical Experts

The Minnesota medical examiners have apparently come to different (but related) findings than the private medical examiner, hired by Floyd’s family. They will muddy the water and will tend to confuse the jury.

3. Finding an Impartial Jury

How can an impartial jury be impaneled?

4. Over-Charging the Case

If the prosecution over-charges the case, they’ll end up botching it.  The political pressure to deliver something on the order of a first degree murder conviction is considerable and the facts don’t fit that charge.

Housekeeping Items – PRC Update

People's Republic of China's Legacy
A landlord is executed near Fukang, Xinjiang, circa 1949. Keystone/Hulton Archive/ Getty Images

The ANONYMOUS Internet Search Engine is up and running and I hope that you can at least give it a try. If you have trouble using it, please let me know. I understand that many of you have other search options that you utilize. This is just one tool available to this blog’s readers in the event that you want to use it.

There are more features coming that are on the way in due time that you may enjoy. It’s just a blog, but it’s for fun too. I hope that’s the way you find it.

The People’s Republic of China 

The PRC just announced that they will secure all available production of personal protective equipment (PPE) and COVID-19 tests for their internal consumption, or for export to nations friendly to China.  The PRC has nationalized all manufacturing of COVID-19 tests and are deciding when and to whom they will sell them or give then. This is a political play and has nothing to do with humanitarian assistance.

As those who follow this blog know, I have been involved with this situation with people on the ground in China for  some weeks now. The situation in China was chaotic and now it’s under the control of the People’s Liberation Army.

Watch the mainstream media to see how THEY are reporting it. I would hope that it wouldn’t be fake news, but my faith in them is usually strained. Companies like NBC/COMCAST have billions of dollars of investment in Communist China and they have agendas of their own. ABC and CBS are also components of conglomerates with heavy interests in Communist China…sort of like the National Basketball Association. Are they OWNED by Red China? That’s the question, isn’t it?

Who Owns The Old Dominion?

That’s an interesting question too, isn’t it?

“One of the ordinary modes, by which tyrants accomplish their purposes without resistance, is, by disarming the people, and making it an offense to keep arms…”

– Supreme Court Justice Joseph Story, Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States (1833).





15 things police officers wish the public knew about policing. Unfortunately, most of what most people know about cops is from watching television.

People have been conditioned by TV to believe that a properly trained police officer of any size can take down a person of superior size and strength, quickly, almost effortlessly, without the use of weapons, and without any injury to either party. This is not true. Few cops are expert martial artists. The defensive tactics training they receive is fairly perfunctory. Struggles often result in injured joints, lacerations, concussions and other injuries to both parties. There is lots of cursing and screaming involved. The cops usually win, but only because they can get enough cops on the scene to overwhelm the adversary.

Very few cops will fire their sidearms outside of the pistol range at some time in their career (more if the cop works in a rural area where having to “dispatch” wounded animals is common). Some might go months without taking the gun out of the holster.

My personal experience is that, about once a month, I would encounter a situation where I would have been legally justified in shooting someone. I did that only once, so all the other times, I found some other way of resolving the situation. Casual research tells me my experience is not unique. Most cops have ample opportunities to shoot people, but they choose not to do so.

There are exceptions, but most cops who become chiefs, sheriffs, or other high-ranking officers spend most of their career paving the path to promotion. They spend a brief time as working cops, then transfer to a non-enforcement job, where they stay until they get their first promotion. They never truly understand the job, and the cops they oversee don’t identify with the brass, or the brass with the cops.

A cop may have a bad time after he’s involved in a shooting, but the traumatic incident could just as well be a nasty car crash, a fight, or a rescue that didn’t end well. Anyone who can say truthfully that they are never bothered by such things is probably a sociopath. Cops who seek mental health treatment are often viewed suspiciously by their superiors. Those guys didn’t spend enough time on the street to experience anything that bothered them, and they believe that anyone who is bothered is probably unstable.

Most of the stress comes from the police station, not the street. Law enforcement agencies are extremely political. Who likes you or who you’re friends or relatives with has a lot more to do with the progress of your career than how good you are at your job. “Management by intimidation” is a common technique. From a human resources perspective, law enforcement agencies are horrible places to work.

There are some, of course – in a cohort of close to a million people, some of them will be biased. You can get fired for expressing those feelings, so they tend not to last long. Most cops don’t especially care what color you are, what religion you practice, what country your ancestors came from, how much money you have, or what your sexual orientation is. Cops see every kind of person, often at the worst moments of their lives. They know there are good and bad people in every category. They do have a strong bias against jerks, so don’t be one of those.

With the possible exception of field training officers, cops don’t have a lot of input to who gets hired and who is retained on their agency. Everyone knows somebody who is reckless, immature, lazy, dishonest, or just dumb. When these people are allowed to keep being cops, it’s usually because they are politically connected, and reporting them for a transgression will almost always backfire on you.

On learning someone is a police officer, most people will immediately relate their most memorable contact with the police. It’s usually a traffic stop, as that’s how most people encounter the police. Your new friend will smile and nod politely, but he’s silently waiting for it to be over. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before.

I have lost count of how many questions I have seen on Quora along the lines of, “How much over the speed limit can I go before I’ll get stopped?” and, “What do I say to get out of getting a ticket?” People want to believe there is some industry-wide practice they can exploit to aid them in violating the law. There are over 800,000 law enforcement officers in the United States, and each one of them is a unique person. Their employers seldom impose a formal policy of allowing drivers to exceed the limit by X miles per hour. This is most often left up to the individual.

Few cops start their day looking for a particular person, or even a particular class of people to stop. Cops see violations of the law and suspicious circumstances, and they are encouraged by their employers to intervene. If you got a ticket or got arrested, it’s probably because you broke the law, not because the cop didn’t like you or you are a member of some targeted group. If this happens to you a lot, you might want to stop blaming the variables and consider the constant instead.

Some agencies have to collect over 100 applications to get one viable hire. Some of those hires won’t make it through the police academy. Some who do won’t complete field training. About half of new hires leave law enforcement within five years. Mainly because of anti-police sentiment, it’s more difficult to recruit new cops than ever before. You might want to think that people become cops because they’re too stupid or lazy for real jobs, but you’re fooling yourself. Chances are, you couldn’t make the grade.

Most of what most people know about cops is from watching television. This is why people believe that every arrest must be immediately followed by a Miranda warning, that there is a team of FBI agents who fly to crime scenes in an executive jet and solve the case within days, that detectives in one major PD can move to another, distant major PD and instantly resume being detectives, that crime scene investigators collect evidence, identify the suspects, interrogate the suspects, and make the arrests (no one seems to care what the detectives are doing), and that cops who are involved in shootings are back at work the next day.

The day may come, God forbid, that your child is separated from you and doesn’t know where to turn. You’ll probably call the police if this happens. Do you want your child to look for a police officer to help him, or hide from the police because he is afraid he will go to jail?

LL, standing next to seized narcotics (7-12-2000)

This applies even if your father, mother, sibling, or next-door-neighbor was a cop. Until you have actually done the job for a few years, you will never understand what it’s actually like.

The New Corps, in a Pacific War with China

USS Tripoli (LHA 7). (U.S. Navy photo illustration/Released)

The (potential) coming war with China begs the question of whether the US is ready to confront the Chinese military in the Pacific Theater. If you’ve been reading this blog, there has been an ongoing theme and it’s US readiness to fight the NEXT war.

Since the coming war with China must needs be a Navy war in the Pacific, the Navy and Marine Corps are trying to re-structure to be prepared. It means a revitalized alligator Navy and Marine Corps. A new US Marine Corps Littoral Regiment is being formed in Hawaii — the first of its kind in the Marine Corps —  and that represents a major shift for the service.

The US sees the need to prepare for a high-tech missile war in the Western Pacific (WESTPAC).

Instead of training for low-tech counterinsurgency missions in Afghanistan and Iraq, which defined the Corps for nearly two dec­ades, Marines will become specialists in ship-to-shore capabilities in austere conditions to, among other things, sink ships at sea using missiles fired from unmanned vehicles that look like bulked-up Humvees. The unmanned vehicles will operate inside the range of extremely capable enemy missiles fired back at them while trying to move about quickly to avoid being targeted.

Additional Marine Littoral Regiments may be based in Japan and Guam, but the first Hawaii-based unit is expected to have 1,800 to 2,000 Marines carved out mainly from units already here, including one of three infantry battalions at Kaneohe Bay.

The new Hawaii unit is part of sweeping changes the Marine Corps wants to make over the next decade as it reorganizes its forces to deter war with China, but win if it comes to that.

The naval expeditionary force wants to shrink its numbers by 12,000 (186,000 are in the Corps now); get rid of its tanks, leaving that capability to the Army; and specialize in littoral warfare.

Divestiture of traditional capabilities would result in a potential savings of $12 billion — to be reallocated toward emerging threats posed foremost by China.

General Berger, USMC Commandant, has said that the redesign of the Marine Corps is driven by China’s pivot towards the sea, and that primary front which they have opened up has renewed great power competition. “Advances by China’s missile forces means that presumptive sea control is no longer something that the United States can rely on. We will compete for it.”

The expeditionary advanced base operations, or EABO, a concept being pursued to distribute a re-designed, highly mobile Marine Corps across Pacific islands and arm them with advanced missiles that can aid the Navy by sinking ships in contested choke points.

“Here’s what this means,” General Berger said. “Our peer adversaries need to perceive a bunch of small, mobile Marine units in their backfield with low signatures, bad attitudes and toolkits full of disruptive capabilities.”

The three-year setup plan for the Hawaii Marine Littoral Regiment foresees the use of the Navy Marine expeditionary ship interdiction system, or NMESIS, with Naval Strike Missiles that have a range greater than 115 miles launched from joint light tactical vehicles, including unmanned vehicles.

The Marine Littoral Regiment will utilize multiple small, long-range landing craft supported by Amphibious Assault Ships as its primary method of tactical and theater-wide mobility.”

New Amphibious Support Ship

(more here)

After the establishment of the new regiment, it will immediately begin training and experimenting with leased naval craft such as the stern landing vessel and offshore support vessel while a more permanent fleet of similarly capable small landing craft are procured.

The Navy has not settled on a final design for this new class of ships, but the concept seems to be sound and is generally agreed on.

Japan, an American ally in the Pacific, is following a similar course (very quietly) to be able to defend Japan from a Chinese invasion while also having the capacity of forward power projection toward China and North Korea.