What was the baby harp seal’s last mistake?
He walked into a bar and ordered a Canadian Club on the rocks.
He walked into a bar and ordered a Canadian Club on the rocks.
Brings back memories.
I was part of a crew that responded to a fatality single car accident north of Jones about forty years ago that killed a teenage girl on prom night. We had extricated the victim and laid her on the roadway and covered her with a sheet and was waiting on the ME to arrive. This nosey teenager sneaked his way into the scene and walked up to me and asked if anyone was hurt. I shined my flashlight on the sheet covered body and said and “what do you think?”
Then I shined the light back toward him. His face turned pale, said nothing, turned and walked off.
It's not exactly dark, but in another lifetime I sold cop gear. One of the items I sold was tactical carriers for body armor. Cops would come in and ask about them and what features they had. I'd explain how to use and maintain them and what all the various pouches were for, except the large square one on the back.
Invariably they'd ask what that pouch was for, and I'd deadpan reply "Sandwiches. You don't want to get stuck on an armed and barricaded standoff for several hours without a sandwich, do you?"
Invariably they'd ask what that pouch was for, and I'd deadpan reply "Sandwiches. You don't want to get stuck on an armed and barricaded standoff for several hours without a sandwich, do you?"
I've worked aircraft crash scenes in the Air Force and we'd have to document the type of flesh as in " a piece of hairy flesh" and toss it in a baggie and so forth with other pieces of the pilot. The shame is that that very morning the pilot came into my office and sat with his head bowed as if he knew... I never did find a head though..can't figure that out but did find many helmets. Usually there isn't 10 pounds of a pilot remaining after he dings in and creates a hole 30 feet in diameter 10-15 feet deep.
After the crash cleanup the chow hall had BBQ hot dogs...
After the crash cleanup the chow hall had BBQ hot dogs...
Solient greenVeterans, first responders, medical pros, ranchers, and all the rest of you deranged assholes get in here and do your thing!!
I was the first to arrive along with a defective at a shooting in the city. My partner in crime Officer Koontz, pulled up in the alley but still far enough away as to not spook anyone still there. As I parked, the EMS crew was down the block. I got out and radioed for the ambulance to stay back from the scene. They parked about 5 houses down and waited. Officer Koontz watched the alley while I and Defective Blasi walked up to and into the house with the door standing wide open. Dispatch said a neighbor called in the shot being fired and said two guys left in a hurry right after the shot was heard.
We cleared the house and as I was walking out the back door, I saw the victim lying in the grass about 30 feet out the back door. I cautiously walked up to him but not in a straight line from the door to the victim to try to preserve any trace evidence. I used the fenceline and came in from the side.
I saw the victim and I recognized him as a local druggie I had arrested a few times. Nice enough guy but still a druggie. He was face up with a small hole in his head just above the temple with a drop of blood. That is all the blood there was. His eyes were open and fixed and dry. I checked for a jugular pulse and a wrist pulse, nothing. I checked for breathing, nothing. The defective was at the door and walked straight to the guy from the door. Geeze.
I went back along my fenceline route and got the EMS fellas to come in and instructed them to use the fenceline route too. They took their equipment to the victim leaving the gurney in the ambulance. They walked back about 5 minutes later, packed up and waited. I had called for the county coroner to come to the scene to pronounce and started my report.
Fifteen minutes later, the coroner arrived and he too walked straight from the back door to the victim. (Ya just can't get good help.) He said, "Yep, He's DRT." Having only met this man once before, I knew him as a local doctor who raised his hand to be the county coroner as an additional duty.
Defective Blasi said, "Yeah, he's DRT all right. Dead Right There." and chuckled.
We were there about five hours, measuring, drawing coordinates, sketching, photographing, fingerprinting, and interviewing the only witness. He said it was the Carey brothers and they left in their green Chevy 1/2 ton pickup.
The ambulance crew finally got the release for the body. Officer Koontz went back on duty answering the calls that had backed up and I followed the ambulance to the funeral home where the coroner was ready to do the autopsy. I watched as the coroner stuck a long stainless steel probe into the hole in his head and the summbich took a breath of air! It sounded like a jet engine intake it was so loud in that small dark concrete-walled room! We all took a few quick steps back as if the devil himself had just materialized in front of us.
"Geezeussss O God Almighty!" the coroner said, "Get this guy to the hospital!" "He's breathing!" Since the ambulance had just left the back drive, I ran out the front door and flagged them down. "He's fu$%^&ing alive! Get back in there and get his ass to the hospital!"
Well, we dragged his ass to the ambulance instead of loading him back up on the gurney, threw his butt inside the ambulance on the floor and boot-scooted to the hospital about three blocks away. That sucker lived! He was a little slow after this incident looking down and away from you while talking to you but still alive and functional. He knew who shot him and why and testified against them. Yes, it was a bad drug deal.
His permanent nickname from then on was "Whistlehead."
Funny thing, every time Whistlehead saw me drive by on duty he'd smile and wave.
We cleared the house and as I was walking out the back door, I saw the victim lying in the grass about 30 feet out the back door. I cautiously walked up to him but not in a straight line from the door to the victim to try to preserve any trace evidence. I used the fenceline and came in from the side.
I saw the victim and I recognized him as a local druggie I had arrested a few times. Nice enough guy but still a druggie. He was face up with a small hole in his head just above the temple with a drop of blood. That is all the blood there was. His eyes were open and fixed and dry. I checked for a jugular pulse and a wrist pulse, nothing. I checked for breathing, nothing. The defective was at the door and walked straight to the guy from the door. Geeze.
I went back along my fenceline route and got the EMS fellas to come in and instructed them to use the fenceline route too. They took their equipment to the victim leaving the gurney in the ambulance. They walked back about 5 minutes later, packed up and waited. I had called for the county coroner to come to the scene to pronounce and started my report.
Fifteen minutes later, the coroner arrived and he too walked straight from the back door to the victim. (Ya just can't get good help.) He said, "Yep, He's DRT." Having only met this man once before, I knew him as a local doctor who raised his hand to be the county coroner as an additional duty.
Defective Blasi said, "Yeah, he's DRT all right. Dead Right There." and chuckled.
We were there about five hours, measuring, drawing coordinates, sketching, photographing, fingerprinting, and interviewing the only witness. He said it was the Carey brothers and they left in their green Chevy 1/2 ton pickup.
The ambulance crew finally got the release for the body. Officer Koontz went back on duty answering the calls that had backed up and I followed the ambulance to the funeral home where the coroner was ready to do the autopsy. I watched as the coroner stuck a long stainless steel probe into the hole in his head and the summbich took a breath of air! It sounded like a jet engine intake it was so loud in that small dark concrete-walled room! We all took a few quick steps back as if the devil himself had just materialized in front of us.
"Geezeussss O God Almighty!" the coroner said, "Get this guy to the hospital!" "He's breathing!" Since the ambulance had just left the back drive, I ran out the front door and flagged them down. "He's fu$%^&ing alive! Get back in there and get his ass to the hospital!"
Well, we dragged his ass to the ambulance instead of loading him back up on the gurney, threw his butt inside the ambulance on the floor and boot-scooted to the hospital about three blocks away. That sucker lived! He was a little slow after this incident looking down and away from you while talking to you but still alive and functional. He knew who shot him and why and testified against them. Yes, it was a bad drug deal.
His permanent nickname from then on was "Whistlehead."
Funny thing, every time Whistlehead saw me drive by on duty he'd smile and wave.
Geezus^^^
Joe
Joe
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