The War on Pissheads

So, my girlfriend Cora was reading me some article from somewhere today about cracking down on sex offenders or something another. I must admit that I'm not the best at active listening. In fact, I'm just not all that good at listening period. I'm way too self-absorbed for that. But, I did manage to catch a few snippets here and there about searching registered sex offenders' homes that live within three miles of a missing child and 25 year mandatory sentences for sex offenders.

Two things:

1. I must admit that I think child molesters and rapist are a rare group of psychopaths that get about 0.0% of sympathy from me.
   
2. It's ridiculous who is considered a sex offender.
   

Example: You and your partner are feeling a little frisky. Spring is in the air. Blah. Blah. Blah. It's a comfortable 70 degrees outside and late as hell. You want to try something exciting. You live near a park. You go to said park and engage in the horrific and unnatural act of fornication. You are hidden away. It's all good. Then! A nice police officer strolls up and asks you what you're up to. Busted. Guess what? You're now a sex offender. Should your house be searched without probable cause when little Jane, who lives a block away, goes missing. I think you get my drift. Give me a f#@*ing break.

Here's a thought. I think that drunk morons who piss in my neighborhood should be shot point blank on the spot. No questions asked. No probable cause. Living in a bar neighborhood, I understand that people are going to go too far sometimes. However, a week ago I was tortured by the site of some inebriated asshole pissing in the street while I was walking my dog. Keep in mind that it was 11:00 pm; he was standing IN THE STREET; and I was about 15 feet away. I'm guessing he doesn't live around here. I'm guessing he lives in the county (yes, I said it), and I'm guessing that he's the kind of jackass neighbor that yells at the neighborhood kids for stepping on his perfectly manicured lawn.

Shot. Point blank. Done deal. No more weeing in the wee hours of the night.

Since I'm rambling. This is exactly the reason I'm leaving my own house tomorrow. Mardi Gras. Yep, Saint Louis Mardis Gras is coming and I can't be responsible for bludgeoning the first idiot that pisses outside of my window. So, I'm leaving.

Announcement to all Amatuers: Don't come to my neighborhood, drink more than your tiny brain can handle, and then decide it's okay to do things here that you would never in a million years do in your own neighborhood. Just because we live in the city does not mean this is okay.

thought of the day: "we got them two rat-f*#ks in the deepest darkest hole in the prison."