Friday, July 01, 2011

22 Bad Apples

Most individuals have heard the phrase, at some point in time, one bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch.  In fact, one bad apple will spoil the whole bunch, if it is not plucked, with prejuidice, and discarded immediately.

The one bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch phrase is often trotted out when one cop is caught in nefarious dealings of one sort or another, as old adages have a certain warm and comforting feel custom made to appease mere citizens expressing anger and resentment over the nefarious dealings.

Well, if one bad does spoil the whole bunch, what happens if there are 22?

Dayton police “mistook” a mentally handicapped teenager’s speech impediment for “disrespect,” so they Tasered, pepper-sprayed and beat him and called for backup from “upward of 20 police officers” after the boy rode his bicycle home to ask his mother for help, the boy’s mom says.

I can tell you what does happen to these bad apples, in the vast majority of cops as bad apple cases, nothing.  But what should happen to these bad apples, or what is referred to as de-jellers in more professional business settings, is the bad apple should be immediately plucked and discarded, because if they are not, they will spoil the whole bunch, and at this point in time, there are a lot of bad apple cops out there.

Quote taken from a Courthouse News Service piece titled Cops Just Love Those Tasers, linked via Joel, at The Ultimate Answer to Kings (is not a bullet but a belly laugh), via SnarkyBytes.

Posted by John Venlet on 07/01 at 12:48 PM
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Big Browns Come Out At Night

There’s something about being on the water, fly rod in hand, in the dark, waiting for the rise.  At this time of year, in the waters I frequent, one waits with anticipation, and not a little impatience, for the hatch of the Hexagania Limbata, or Hex for short.  The big browns come out to feed, then, and often with abandon.  You’ll know when the big browns are feeding, the sound is unmistakable, a resounding glub, not un-similar to the sound of a softball sized rock dropped casually into a quiet pool.  You may be able to dimly see where the fish rose, if there’s a bit of light in the sky, but in all likelihood you’ll not cast to what you see, but what you hear, and if all the stars are in alignment, and your blind cast to the sound is on key, well, then the dance is on.

If all these things happen, just right, you may very well find something like this on the end of your line.  Nice fish, Joe.

Posted by John Venlet on 07/01 at 08:19 AM
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