PRODIGAL SUM

Legendary sound bite artist and noted economist Nancy Pelosi fired off one of her Wallapelosi’s again during a recent Fox News Sunday interview. Nanner coughed up a hair ball of fiscal denialism this last weekend by declaring that our nation’s dire fiscal situation is a revenue problem and not a spending problem, as those nasty conservatives keep insisting. The most important factor, according to Nanner is this country’s “priorities” you see, and this country’s priority, according to the high priestess of hilarity is revenue. Make sense? We just need more revenue. Nanner knows from experience that more money coming in eliminates any of the problems associated with spending it. Got it? Remember, an alcoholic doesn’t have a problem drinking, he has a drinking problem. According to this new “Pelosi Paradigm” our nation doesn’t have a problem with the “deficit in the budget”; it just has a “budget deficit problem.”

To be fair to Pelosi, she is not the only Dem trying to unseat Joe Biden for marble headed prominence. House Democrat Lenny Stoyer proved that he to can wax stupid just like his female colleague when provoked. When asked by a CNBC news anchor if the country has a spending problem, Stoyer responded, “Does the country have a spending problem? The country has a paying –for problem.”

 The cream sure rises to the top in politics.

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I have a question. Many people are becoming childlike in their dependence on the government. The political left has purposely exacerbated this sad situation by forwarding the notion that if something is deemed to be good, then the benevolent government should provide it for us. Like contraception for example. If contraception for females is now considered a right because it protects them from getting pregnant and the government (you and me) now pay for it, then shouldn’t that same government be required to provide a firearm, free of charge to females in order that they may protect themselves from rape? Females obviously have a positive right to be free of sexual assault just as much or more then their right to unrestricted gubmint funded sack attacks do they not? I’m just sayin…….Pick your poison libs……

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Psycho fugitive cop killer and former LAPD Officer Chris Dorner made it very clear in his written manifesto that he was a loyal Obama subject, loved the whole concept of gun control and idolized many of today’s current liberal media personalities such a Piers Morgan and cable networks such as MSNBC and CNN. In a fantastic bit of coincidence….These same networks and other liberal news agencies and personalities have managed to completely ignore this aspect of the story all together. And yes Gabby Gifford; these are the very same despicably dishonest and hypocritical reporters that aggressively attempt to falsely label any nut job that goes on a killing spree as a right wing conspirator with ties to the Tea Party or conservative ideals and they will go about it without a single sliver of verifiable information to support their statements. How do these “reporters” get so insidiously dishonorable? Do they offer course instruction in shameless dishonesty in Journalism school? How do people become this ethically vacant? I can only assume that they are cut from the same cloth as those Face Bookers who were supporting Dorner in his cop killing quest.

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On February 5^th, the “Reverend” Al Sharpton made an appearance in a “Lean Forward” advertisement for the ultra liberal cable network MSNBC, which also happens to be his employer. During the ad he recited a part of the Pledge of Allegiance and purposefully omitted the word “God.” He did however remember to include gays and lesbians in his call for one nation, under UUHH, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all. Sharpton claims to have given his first Christian sermon at the age of nine but apparently can’t bring himself to mention God in the company of African-Americans, Latinos, lesbians and gays…..as he so eloquently listed them in his orate. Sharpton has always been a mouthy moron and a lifelong racist agitator. He can now add blasphemy to his resume.

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Obama and his Bloviating bag full of vacuous crap sure whipped up a crowd of libs into a feverish undulating blob of progressive euphoria during the SOTUS. Remember, the most important aspect of this man’s presidency is posing as a great savior while doing absolutely nothing to lead the country. His greatest moments are in front of a teleprompter and a crowd of adoring subjects. Outside of that he is a sad, contemptuous, ego maniacal loner with a God complex. I will say it so you can act shocked and still entertain plausible deniability……….I firmly believe history will one day compare this person to a ruler who to once hypnotized large audiences with his profound oration, centralized all power into his hands and eliminated opposition through divisiveness and class warfare. Unlike our ruler however, this Chancellor; this published author; this talented artist actually restored economic stability and eliminated high unemployment in the country he led. He was also a psychotic, paranoid mass murderer with visions of world dominance but hey, lets be fair; Barry still has another 4 years and some pretty cool drones. History will rightfully hold the leader of the Third Reich in contempt forever. Fortunately for Hussein, the constitution provides for a maximum of two four year terms of office for the presidency. It is oddly ironic that for a man who loathes our founding values which are cemented into this great document, it may be one of it’s amendments that saves him from an ugly legacy.   

HOJJ AND THE GATES OF HELL--CONCLUSION

The walls of HOJJ were the keepers of secrets. Only those who delved in her realm knew that there were really fifteen floors in the Hall of Justice and not fourteen as was commonly believed. This was but one of many little known secrets kept locked away from those who visited but for those who worked in this grand edifice those secrets represented what some believed was a bond of honor and mutual protection between its historical legacy and the people who worked there. And on that dreadful morning of Oct 1, 1987, trapped in my own gated hell of a predicament, another of its secrets would be revealed………

The gates were rocking more violently then ever. The inmates were feverishly pushing and pulling the crash gates in a rhythmic motion that caused the rocker arm of the locking mechanism to rise and fall with each motion. If the arm lifted high enough it would clear the thick steel catch bar and allow the gate to slide freely. The inside gate seemed to have the strongest and most motivated group of convicts and it appeared the first breach would be from that gate. I barked out every conceivable threat/ ploy I could think of  in a last ditch attempt to regain some level of control but that ship had sailed and all that was left to do was wait for the first gate to open and see what happened. I had every intention of throwing the keys down an elevator shaft as soon as the first gate opened anyway and I told then as much, but the momentum of the moment carried too much velocity and they were determined to get in. I looked for any conceivable place to defend myself should the crazed lunatics follow through on their threats. There was nowhere to go and no place to hide.

My thoughts flashed briefly to my family which almost immediately evoked intense anger and resentment. I resented being put in this situation by a bunch of losers and scumballs. If Mother Nature shook me to my grave then so be it, that’s the way the building crumbles…..so to speak….. But no band of murdering, raping, thieving turd bags were going to have the satisfaction. I was going to test their resolve.      

I took my belt off and latched my handcuffs to the end buckle. That and a five cell Maglite flashlight were my only weapons of defense which were absurdly inadequate considering the situation, but I didn’t care; F—k these A- holes. I reached down to pick up my radio off the floor at the very moment urgent traffic came crackling out.

“Kitchen Gate- ERT 2…….obtain cover. Kitchen Gate- ERT 2…take cover now!”

I didn’t see or hear anyone in the area but I knew enough to do what I was told. I backed into the same corner where the priest and female had been earlier. Some of the inmates looked at me with a sense of urgent suspicion and they began rotating their heads left and right toward the 25 and 50 stairwells (designated by their location in the building). At that moment a small aftershock made a crashing sound from the rear of the kitchen area; I could not see around the wall where I was crouching but what I experienced was a short moment of suspended silence followed immediately by the unmistakable sounds of bodies hitting walls, batons hitting bones and loud bold voices issuing instructions. I realized this particular aftershock was man made. Help had arrived as promised and it came in the form of ERT-2(Emergency Response Team 2…of which I had been a member).

Inmates fled in all directions, attempting to fold themselves back into the anonymity of the crowd. As soon as ERT -2 had emerged from the rear of the kitchen area, another response team came pouring out of the 25 stairwell effectively surrounding all the involved inmates, leaving them nowhere to go. In less then a minute, 50 plus inmates were flex cuffed and laying on the concrete floors outside the crash gates. Many were bleeding; but most were just whining and proclaiming their innocence.

As soon as the area was secured I unlocked the crash gates and opened the supply closet. There were still only two people in there and both were ok. Three nurses appeared from the rear of the kitchen area, just like ERT-2 and took the female away on a gurney (she delivered that night). The priest looked frail and complained of chest pains and was taken to a medical triage location for further examination, but was otherwise ok. One of my good friends and ERT-2 team mate Rob came up to me, pulled his protective shield up from his face, started laughing and causally quipped, “Geezuus Mike…some people will do anything to get out of working the Kitchen gate!”

I shook my head and looked back in the direction of the kitchen area. As far as I knew there was no way to reach the fifteenth floor from the kitchen side of the building. ERT-2 and the med staff seemingly came out of nowhere. I asked Rob how they got up here. He replied, “The grey lady (HOJJ) divulged one of her secrets today just to save your sorry behind, and several others downstairs.” It turns out…the response teams had been making their way up the floors all morning, in relative radio silence, taking care of problems and getting help where it was needed. Radio silence was necessary so inmates could not listen to conversations about tactical movements. Ear pieces were not a part of our equipment in the 80’s. They are now.

Now about the grey lady’s secret.

Long ago, during HOJJ’s construction period, a secret stairwell was built on the northwest corner of the building. It was used for years during the 1930’s through 50’s by people who needed freedom of movement without being noticed (I’ll let your imagination do the rest). When it was no longer needed, the stairwell doors leading out were locked tight and sealed shut in order to maintain security. The stairwell was never included in floor plans for training purposes and few knew of its existence at all. Its exit doors had been well hidden and its door locks used special keys. HOJJ you naughty girl.

Midnight came and I was released to go home. I reunited with my family and we talked about the events of the day. I would later receive a commendation for bravery, or going above and beyond, or best acting role in faking courage, I can’t remember.

HOJJ did us proud that day. We were told later that the building was actually built atop giant rollers in the foundation which is why it swayed so violently yet did not collapse. Unfortunately, the Northridge Earthquake in 1994 finished her off and HOJJ was closed for good. The jail that time forgot was no more.

A 200 million dollar renovation project has been recently initiated to re-open the Hall of Justice sometime in 2014.  If you’re ever unfortunate enough to be in Los Angeles and have an hour or two to kill….pay a visit to the grey lady; and tell her Mike says hi……….and thanks.  

  

HOJJ AND THE GATES OF HELL--PART 2

The Los Angeles area had just been struck by a high magnitude earthquake. The Hall of Justice Jail had 2,000 inmates and 50 deputies stranded on the top seven floors. Floors 1 through 7 had been evacuated and a command post had been hastily thrown together across the street at the Superior courthouse. The aftershocks were nearly as violent as the main earthquake and we were reminded every fifteen to twenty minutes that we could turn into a Tower of Terror ride at any time. After an emergency roll we were informed that there would be no evacuation of inmates or deputies from the facility. Each area of the facility was asked to give a brief description of their situation when called on the radio. Many were stranded in dangerous places, some had injuries that required immediate attention and still others had inmate control issues that required additional resources. I had no injuries, no security issues at the moment, a very pregnant female and God’s right hand man. I was advised that my location was determined to be a low priority and I was to maintain security at all costs and update only if the situation changed.

The situation changed.

A civilian Kitchen Officer found his way to the crash gates and informed me in a low tone that he had a television in his office and it was working. Inmates hear very well when it benefits them and a dozen of them immediately bum rushed the office. At that very moment a news station was showing footage of deputies fleeing Men’s Central Jail about two miles away from our location. The reporter was making insinuations that the deputies were leaving the facility and abandoning the inmates. Within seconds I heard the sound of anger approaching the kitchen area and before I could figure out what was happening all hell broke loose.

Dozens of hysterical, furious felons, armed with kitchen knives of every conceivable type forced themselves up against the crash gates on both sides and told me they just saw all the deputies leaving inmates to die and they wanted me to open the gates so they could save their own lives by climbing down the elevator shafts. They initially tried to use diplomacy with me, promising to stay just outside the building until it was safe to go back. When that didn’t pan out for them, they quickly resulted to their state of nature and began brandishing the knives at me. Ironically, I had been the one who handed them those very knives only about an hour and half earlier. I did not take the time to enjoy the irony however because some of alpha male inmates were stepping forward and looking me straight in the eye with a, “we will kill you if we have to” look. I can still to this day bring that moment back with crystal clarity. My first shift at this notoriously crappy turn key job assignment had devolved into a potentially deadly situation in not one, but two different ways. This was not covered in the academy!

 I was only two years into my promising law enforcement career. I had a beautiful wife and our first child. I wanted to see my family again yet I wanted to do my job; and my job was to maintain security. I had also two civilians to protect and one of them decided that it was time to go into labor.

I initiated an emergency broadcast advising the command post that inmates were considering a mass escape attempt and my female civilian was having severe contractions and may be getting ready to deliver a baby. I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. Really? Is this really happening! I waited for several seconds for a return to my broadcast. Silence. At that moment it occurred to me that the radio had been silent for a quite a few minutes.  I conducted one follow up radio check without response and then broke into a profanity laced medley at the top of my lungs. The battery had died!

The inmates eventually ran out of patience when they realized I was not going to open the crash gates. They gave me my last warning and announced in no uncertain terms that they were coming in whether I opened the gates or not and I was now as good as dead. I corralled the female and the priest and shoved then into the supply closet that used to be full of knives and locked then in with my keys. I decided I would throw the entire key set down an elevator shaft if the inmates got to me so at least the civilians would be safe.  I reached into my duffle bag and grabbed a spare radio battery. The inmates started a coordinated rocking motion of the gates in hopes of pulling the locking arm free. Some of the inmates were yelling at me at the top of their lungs and others were vigorously pleading. It looked like the gates were starting to give way.

My next broadcast was made with a sense of urgency that left no doubt that I was in trouble and the command post response was immediate. I advised that I needed immediate emergency medical for a female in labor and if you could send a small army up here too that would be great because the inmates are now rioting and attempting to breach the kitchen gate by force and escape en masse; and maybe cut me to ribbons in the process.

They assured me help was on its way…………..

HOJJ AND THE GATES OF HELL --PART 1

0500 hours: October 1^st, 1987. Los Angeles. I kissed the wife, hugged my two year old son and drove to work that morning like I did every other morning over the previous 2 years, as a young strapping Los Angeles County Deputy Sheriff assigned to the Hall of Justice Jail in downtown LA. The Hall of Justice, built in 1925, was an imposing structure. Concrete, granite and steel, along with its grey exterior and ornate interior conveyed a sense of justice and importance. Floors 8 through 15 housed 2,000 of the most vicious, unrepentant, violent and high security criminals in the county. HOJJ had been featured on such shows as Dragnet, Perry Mason, Get Smart and Cagney and Lacy. Charles Manson and Sirhan Sirhan resided there. Eighty percent of the inmate population was on trial for murder. The HOJJ was the epitome of a true maximum security facility and all who worked and lived there knew it simply as the, “Jail that time forgot.”

0620 hours: Day shift briefing concluded and I took one of the service elevators to the 15^th floor to start my shift as the “Kitchen Gate Officer”. The Kitchen gate area was a traffic hub for employees and service satff for movement around the jail. It was a busy place; One that required a deputy sheriff. Every deputy was required to rotate through the KGO assignment, primarily because it was not considered a pleasant place to work and nobody ever volunteered to do it. Nobody. The month of October was my turn.

The Kitchen Gate Officer had one very important job; that job was to Lock and unlock the security gates that provided go through access for inmates going to and from the kitchen and other areas of the 15^th floor. Three different elevators arrived in the Kitchen gate area dozens of times throughout the day and each time the KGO had to personally close the security gates(also called the dead line crash gates) to lock inmates out and then unlock the elevator gates to allow personnel in and out of the elevators, while maintaining the highest level of security. It was considered the most tempting location in this maximum security facility for anyone who might attempt a brazen escape because two of the elevators travelled below the jail floors and exited into the unsecured Lobby of the building. It was the Achilles heel of the facility and the KGO was the one holding the keys to freedom for hundreds of potential escapees. Working the KGO position sucked by any definition of the word and nobody wanted to be the one working there the day somebody attempted to escape. This would be my first day. I had no idea that this day would live with me forever.

0735 hours: A pregnant female civilian was escorted by deputies to the kitchen gate area and left under my supervision/protection while she waited for an elevator. She was a diminutive black woman with whom I had frequent contact and had developed a friendly rapport. From prior inquiries to her about the status of her gestation I knew that she was getting ready to bear child soon. We were joined by an elderly priest who was dropped off into my care just moments later by another two man deputy team. I also knew this man of the cloth from several prior encounters. (So this priest, a pregnant woman and a cop walk into a bar………..) Anyway back to the story.

0742 hours: After a couple of minutes exchanging pleasantries with my new company, I noticed the first of two elevator alarm lights go red. This was my first warning that an elevator was approaching and I needed to secure the kitchen gate area before it arrived. I closed the first deadline blast gate and walked across to secure the other when the concrete floor below me disappeared.

I landed on the floor with a bone jarring thud and heard the unmistakable high pitched sound of a female screaming. I was dazed and off balance. The concrete seemed to be flowing back and forth under my body like the fluid in a lava lamp and I could sense the horrifying reality that the entire building was swaying back and forth! I tried twice to get back on my feet but was immediately sent crashing back to the concrete each time. Chaos ensued. I began crawling toward the second crash gate in order to close it. I wasn’t thinking with any real clarity for several seconds initially but instinct told me that I better close that gate before I contemplate anymore about what was happening. And what was happening became frighteningly apparent in an instant.

October 1^st, 1987 at 0742 hours was the precise moment the Whittier Narrows earthquake struck the Los Angeles basin.

I barely managed to close the 5,000 pound gate. I was locked into an area with a very pregnant woman and an elderly priest. I began to take account of the situation while listening to the chaotic radio traffic on my portable sheriff’s radio. There was damage everywhere in the building and countless people were injured and in need of medical care. Telephone lines were down. The elevator shafts had warped and trapped people inside them, suspended between floors. I could hear frantic people screaming for help in the elevator shaft. Inmates began forming into large groups outside the crash gates, confused and scared to death about what was occurring. Everyone was looking at me; the inmates, the priest and the woman……….who was frozen in a state of primordial fear.

When the building finally resumed its composure and everything that was going to collapse, fall or break had done so, I checked on the priest and the woman, both of whom had backed themselves into a corner area as if it was somehow safer there. The elderly priest was trying to remain calm but his shaking betrayed his demeanor. The woman was taking big gulps of air and trying to calm herself down but it was apparent that she, the priest and I all shared the same horrific understanding. We were at the very top of a 60 year old concrete artifact of a building. The fear that the building may suddenly drop out from underneath our feet and kill us all in the most gruesome way was excruciatingly real and I discovered a new appeciation for the fear that is is the horrific uncertainty generated when one is faced with the potentially immediate conclusion of ones own life. it was a feeling of helplessness heretofore never realized in my life to that point. Order, routine and process had in a split second been replaced with pandemonium and utter chaos.

I knew my wife was enroute to college and my son was in a daycare near ground zero when the event began. Were they hurt? Were they killed? Are they okay? I could not communicate with anyone and they could not communicate with me. Cell phones did not exist yet. The land lines were down. The radio was all I had and it was for emergency traffic only. I could not know if my family had met with tragedy and the fear took on an almost surreal feeling. People were hurt, people were dying and I was about to experience a life changing scenario that played itself out in different forms all over the Los Angeles area.

 And the day was just beginning……………….