In Philly. This is nasty:

Without uttering a word, police said, the unidentified man whipped out a double-claw hammer and began bludgeoning a 20-year-old man who was dozing off in his seat.

For five long minutes, SEPTA surveillance cameras captured the deranged attacker - who was still on the loose late last night- digging his hammer into the man’s head and neck.

The 20-something was relaxing on the ride, listening to his iPod after a work day. And then, whammo. Five minutes of whammo. Public transportation is not safe. I rode NYC subways nearly every day for two straight weeks and saw some crazy shit on those trains. Mostly, people invading your personal space and many times exhibiting signs of aggression. Sure, it starts with, “Hey buddy, got a cigarette?” or “got some change?” and if you don’t comply, offense is taken. I’ve been sneered at, bumped, shoved, glared at. I’ve been in close proximity to angry shoving matches between people in the evening where no more than 5 people are in a subway car. I’ve been asked more than once, “What the fuck are you looking at?”

There’s a lot to be said for situational awareness. The last place - these days - I would stick headphones on and drown out my surroundings is in a quickly moving locked metal box surrounded by strangers. I’m sure many of you are the same way - I don’t like to sit anywhere in public where I can’t see everything, more specifically what is right behind me. I’m not paranoid, I just don’t trust every crazy bastard out there.

Through it all, disgusted investigators said, at least 10 passengers stood by and did nothing as the random attack moved from the train to the platform, when the hammer-wielding maniac tried to push his victim down onto the train tracks.

When the beating was finished and the suspect fled with the little boy, the victim staggered back onto the train, bloodied, confused and alone, said Detective Kenneth Roach, of Central Detectives.

And even then, no one tried to help him.

Hardly surprising, but sad. We’re a nation of people terrified of lawsuits, danger, and personal harm. A me-first society that just wants to be left alone until we get into the safety and security of our own homes. Actually, worse than that, a disarmed, me-first society. One simple law-abiding gun-owner conceal carrying on that train and minding his own business could’ve put an end to this in well under 20 seconds. One individual with a basic amount of martial arts training could’ve done the same. However, without the will to act, nothing matters.

“Somebody should have helped this guy,” Roach said. “I understand the [other] guy had a hammer, but they outnumbered him at least 10 to one.”

We’re taught to comply, to never fight back and to avoid confrontation. I find it disingenuous and beyond bothersome for the Police to constantly beat the drum of, “just give them what they want,” or “don’t fight,” or, “just cooperate” and then come out and wag their fingers because nobody threw themselves in front of a claw-hammer-wielding psychopath.

Miraculously, the victim took the subway up to Temple University Hospital, received several staples and sutures and was discharged, Roach said.

That is some very good news.

The attacker - a bearded, stocky, 5-foot-9-inch black man who wore a yellow shirt and black pants - also got on at City Hall, with a youngster who may or may not be his child.

The victim and the hammer-toting psychopath never exchanged a word or a glance, Roach said.

“According to the victim, there was no contact or verbal discussion,” he said. “They didn’t even notice each other.”

The hammer was hidden in a black-and-yellow book bag that the attacker clutched throughout the short subway ride.

Two things stand out here. First, that the article describes this as a “5-foot-9-inch black man”. I didn’t expect to see that description. Second, the “hammer was hidden in a black-and-yellow book bag”. No word yet on whether carrying a concealed claw hammer is illegal. I’m sure Nutter will address it.

… because instinct tells me it’s a stupid thing to do.

HAMPTON, N.H. — Thousands of people watching skydivers land on a New Hampshire beach got a scare when one of the divers was blown about a half a mile out to sea.

Once in awhile I like to browse online news from various papers well outside where I am generally geographically comfortable. One such paper I like to peek at from time to time is the Missoulan. As in … Montana.

So up pops this very sad story - a 2-year-old boy found dead in the trunk of some woman’s car. What struck me here was the family’s name:

GREAT FALLS - Authorities found the body of a 2-year-old boy in the trunk of a car Friday, and the toddler’s 31-year-old mother has been arrested on suspicion of deliberate homicide.

Summer Many White Horses, who also faces charges of tampering with evidence and obstructing a peace officer, is being held at the Cascade County Detention Center for the death of her son, James Many White Horses.

That’s something you just don’t see in major cities. And for the record, I hope they bump Mom to the front of the line. A dead two-year-old in a trunk? Swift removal from this earth.

Sickening.

I want you to take a good, looooooong look at these two motherfuckers:

Stare good and hard at those two filthy animals, then read this:

A former Delaware County babysitter who allegedly supplied her child-molesting ex-husband with victims - some as young as 3 months old - has agreed to plead guilty to manufacturing child porn, according to a federal court document filed yesterday.

If that doesn’t make you want to throw up, this just might:

Jackson, who operated a babysitting service out of her former Collingdale home, was facing 30 counts of manufacturing child porn under a superceding indictment filed last month.

She has admitted to turning the supervision of female infants over to her ex-husband, John Jackey Worman, 41, of Colwyn, who had oral and vaginal sex with those infants, prosecutors said.

There is no hell violent and painful enough for that pair. Guilty plea? No problem. No trial. Just a drawn out, horrifying death. Imagine dropping off a 3-month-old infant to day care, picking them up later in the afternoon and having no idea in between that your child had been molested by some disgusting pile of shit. I can’t even begin to imagine the wrath I’d let loose upon someone like that if I found that they were even thinking about touching my child. I’m not talking lawsuit. I’m not even talking baseball-bat beating. I’m talking hours alone with the filthy animal - and I’ll only bring an ice pick, a handsaw, and infinite rage.

So, for what it’s worth, familiarize yourself with this: http://www.familywatchdog.us/

Go there now. It only takes a few seconds to look up your town/zip and you get a handy-dandy map with all sorts of locations and pictures of convicted sex offenders. Is the info accurate? That depends on the good graces of the offender actually registering, doesn’t it?

Either way, be aware. And remember the story in this post.

… if he decides on either Lieberman or Romney as his VP. There’s all this talk about KBH as well. Bleh.

Sarah Palin, where are you? You’d be the ultimate STFU VP pick. Political checkmate. Principled, female, wicked conservative, excellent on energy. Checkmate, checkmate, checkmate, checkmate.

But that won’t happen. We have a greater chance of seeing John Wayne rise from the grave, twist Joe Biden’s arm until he screams uncle, and then go on television with the express purpose of calling Obama a little girl and demanding Hillary get her caboose of a behind in the kitchen to “make me some grub.”

*sigh*

I can dream …

Back when you received forwarded emails that weren’t from Nigeria and that didn’t offer up meds at cheap prices, this is the kind of stuff that was passed around.

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece.
I thought this was odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth so I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one of them drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in the genitals. I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn’t adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into it’s third hour. Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive; they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. God damn cheap monkeys.

I didn’t know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room; on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn’t work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and one hundred ninety-nine dead, dry monkeys.

I tried to pretend that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad. I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I didn’t want to call a plumber. I was embarrassed. I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortuantely there was only enough room for two at a time, so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn’t go bad.

I tried to burn them, but little did I know that my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire. Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and one hundred ninety-seven dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed.

The odor wasn’t improving. I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I really had to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat one of the monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had a wet one. He couldn’t take it either. I didn’t bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn’t quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.

I like monkeys.

I first received that one maybe … I don’t know … 15 years ago? 20 maybe? Puttering around on my DX2-50 with a 100MB hard drive and 28.8 modem (external, because I’ve always been old school).

I spit out food when I read this.

Then my wife was all, “I don’t think it’s a joke” and I was all, “Damn.” Ruined my fun. Still, if I wanted to stir shit up on Amazon, that’s how I’d do it.

Why not just throw this question online and see what kind of tips you get!

I have a dirt-floor root cellar in my basement. It’s the size of a large walk-in closet.

I don’t need a dirt-floor root cellar in my basement, and I’d like to reclaim the space. The rest of the basement is concrete floor.

My question is thus …

If you were in this situation and wanted to reclaim this space … what the hell would you do to the floor? Just throw some quick-mix concrete on it? Put anything down on top first? The floor gets damp down there, so I don’t know if that’s something I need to worry about trying to make this space nice again.

Anyone out there familiar enough with basement overhauls to offer a pointer or three?