Insuring the Uninsurable

I was taking a walk around Quartzsite recently, and got to thinking about all that has happened in the few short months since Bluto took the helm of the ship she declared to adoring masses and press that she would right. 

The first thing I thought about was how wonderful that September 25th meeting was when Bluto told the council and assembled townsfolk that she had saved the day, the risk pool would NOT be dropping the Town and though we'd be on restriction, we would still have the risk pool coverage, and she had made major progress with repairing the relationship with them. Remember that? How we all clapped and cheered, thinking we dodged another expensive bullet. I almost wished I had some rose petals and Hygeia's love beads to throw at her feet as she walked out of the room. Those were the days....

Then fast forward to Nov. 13th and what do we hear coming out of Bluto's blowhole? "The Town has been in contact with an insurance broker who specializes in hard to place municipalities. She said they would be getting quotes from 15 different insurance companies." I got this quote from the Parker Pioneer because I can't stand reading the minutes online at the Town's website. Can't anyone in that building type? Or use spell check? For the love of all that is holy, have someone that maybe graduated high school (a non Quartzsite one) proof read what you put out in the public realm! You can read the entire article here-

Parker Pioneer Article  

Anyways, I got to thinking about this whole crazy scene with Jerry Pukkerson, Bluto, Forgeron, and what their ulterior motives could be. You didn't think they were doing any of their shenanigans out of a sense of duty, honor, and for the good of the Town, did you? Please.

What started as a little kernel of knowledge tucked way deep in my brain, back behind the latest episode of Toddlers and Tiaras, and right next to the LOLcats collection, started to grow and make its way to the forefront. I started thinking about how much money stands to be made for the broker (or middleman if you prefer) who puts together a sweet (for them) high priced insurance package to insure an almost uninsurable town. Then I remembered that Jerry Pukkerson's wife Michele is an insurance broker. 

Interesting. I'd almost completely forgotten about her wearing an insurance brokers hat! All I ever see her do is sling mediocre (at best) food at the restraunt people lovingly (or not so lovingly) call "Dirty's". Now I am no food connoisseur, but I prefer to eat meals at an establishment not known for its dirt. But that's just me. 

So thinking about how Bluto, Forgeron, and the Pukkerson's spend so many hours around these dirty tables, discussing dirty dealings, and generally being less than clean makes me wonder, how much money might be going through their dirty hands in the next few months? Could it be enough to cause a person to toss aside their ethics and morals? Obviously I'm not including Bluto in this last statement because if she ever had any morals or ethics, they were left in Sacramento along with her CASA pension scheme and she didn't leave a forwarding address for them to catch up to her. 

Makes me wonder. How about you?

All Hail King Forgeron!

Seems that our idiotic town council is being more idiotic than usual, so I did some digging into what this council could possibly be thinking. Yeah, I know, it seems like they don't think at all, just follow like lemmings off the cliff. But I digress, back to them thinking. So the intel I got was, that they aren't going to honor Alex Taft's contract because Forgeron has them convinced that they aren't bound by a previous councils actions. 

Let that sink in for a minute- not bound by a previous council's actions.

This has to be some of the most ass backwards thinking I have ever heard about. I know that as a teacher, Mark only has to be a grade level higher than the grade he is teaching, but you have to wonder what kinds of misinformation he is teaching to the kids who are unfortunate enough to go to his school. 

Put yourself in Forgeron's mind for a minute. There you are, in your shithole house, sitting in your Lazyboy watching Hillbilly Handfishin, glorious in your dingy wife beater and boxers, a bucket of Church's Chicken gizzards resting on your massive midsection and a Keystone Light (gotta watch that girlish figure) in your meaty fist. You got a D- in history and the constitution was never your strong suit, your whole understanding of how that whole congress thing works comes from Arby's placemats and Snapple lids. So there you are, thinking that you can't fire Taft with cause, because her contract says she pretty much has to be convicted of a crime before you can do that. And you don't want to fire her without cause, because then you'd have to honor her contract and pay out her severance. Being the bitter old man that you are, you sure as hell don't want to do that. So you come up with this plan to say you do not have to honor this contract because you weren't on the council when it was signed. Sounds logical, right? 

Wrong. Mark, I think perhaps you should crack open one of those old history books you expect your students to use, and read up on what John Adams meant when he said "We are a nation of laws, not men". Readers Digest condensed version for you- this means that while congressmen (or Town councilmen) come and go, the law continues on. So your theory that this council can't be made to honor Taft's contract is as flawed as your thinking that its OK to cavort around town with an underage girl. 

If Marks logic were true, every time a new session of congress starts and new members gets sworn in, all the laws of the previous congress go out the window and we start with a blank slate. I think what Mark wants is a monarchy. New king comes into power, all the old kings laws are replaced with new ones. I understand Mark thinks he is royalty, but we don't have monarchy rule here in the US. We have a democracy. There has only ever been one Common Council of the Town of Quartzsite. You, Mark, are just a seat holder. Others have been in that seat before, and assuming you and your buddy Bluto don't bring on the death of the Town, others will fill that seat after you are gone. 

Saying that this council can't be bound by a contract that a previous one signed is ludicrous. Especially given that current council members Anderson, Kelly, Crooks and Jewitt signed Taft's contract. You gotta wonder what he's telling them to make them forget that they approved every item in her contract not that long ago. Is it possible that they all have senile dementia? Could Mark be spiking their water with some magic potion that turns them into brainless yes men (and women)? Is he hypnotizing them? Or maybe he has blackmail material on them like Jerry Pukkerson has on Carol Kelley. Makes you wonder what would cause this group of imbeciles to voluntarily run off that cliff.  

So Quartzsiters, prepare yourself for another lawsuit. 

Another day... another bungled assault case

Good grief... For the second time in as many weeks, wanna be policewoman Flabby Farcia has screwed up yet another case. I'm beginning to understand why Chief Dilbert doesn't want his sergeants taking calls. Maybe he's smarter than we thought. 

No. He isn't. 

Because if Dilbert were smarter, he'd have placed her on administrative leave pending an investigation into the last case she fucked up. You remember, the one where Farcia let a transient who ran over a woman then fled the scene get off with a citation and a smile. Heh, I said "get off". Which is probably the only thing that Farcia and Dilbert think about. Seems like it was only last week, but it was actually 10 days ago that we were hearing the news of her massive level of incompetence. Statistically, this has got to be something of a Guiness Book of World Record setting fuckery. I wonder if they keep track of such things? I'm gonna call and ask. If they don't, this would be a great time and place to start. 

Details are still trickling in to our bat cave, so we will update this breaking story as we get more info. Rumor has it that Dilbert has sent Farcia off to some special "training", not sure if that's code talk for a romantic get away for the two of them. I hope they get a room with one of those sweet heart shaped bathtubs! Then maybe they can use it to soak off some of their combined fluid excretions and come back to the Q not smelling like a 14 year old boys unwashed sheets. 

As a citizen of this Town, I'd kind of like to know why we are paying this obviously incompetent sergeant 50k a year to do little more than service the Chief. It's abundantly clear that she is just another liability for this liability laden town. Let's hope our prospective new insurance companies aren't catching wind of these constant screw ups. Heh, I said "screw". 

It seems to me that if we are stuck with the Chief (which we seem to be since our council and interim town manager have major boner for him) it would be far more cost effective to pay a hooker on the days he needs to inflict some Viagra induced lovin on someone. Granted, that would be both cruel and unusual punishment for the hooker, but at least we wouldn't have to pay her a fat salary, health insurance, and retirement benefits. On the upside, unlike Flabby Farcia, the hooker wouldn't be forced spend hours on end at the Eatery. So, you know, that's a pretty good selling point. 

Word on the street

Word reached us here in our Fortress of Solitude (which we lovingly call our super sweet park model) about a very interesting event which took place last Friday night over by the exclusive gated (gates are in the mail) community know to the locals as "Padlocks" - 'cause if it ain't locked it's free. Now, some would question the validity of our using the term "exclusive" when it comes to talking about Padlocks RV Park, but we just say "fuck you, damn yuppie Callyfornians, go back to Orange County and where's that fucking gate we ordered?" Mofo's always looking down their noses at us locals. Anyway, around here Padlocks RV Park is something of a local legend. One cannot adequately describe the aura surrounding the place, it has to be seen, and smelled, in person for you to truly appreciate the goings on of the residents which inhabit the property.

Anyhoo, getting back to our story, my super-secret sources say there was an encounter just down the road from the luxury haven Padlocks last Friday night (Nov. 9th). Seems that during the evening, a call went into central dispatch that there was a hit and run. Sergeant Flabby Farcia, being the ever vigilant police officer that she is 

(I will wait while you finish laughing. Is ten minutes enough time? OK, good)

is first on the scene. Which was in itself a very unusual event since we all know that sergeants don't take calls according to her Viagra-soaked (I hear he sweats it - maybe that's why Jerry Pukkerson is always licking him) lover boy,  Chief Hef Dilbert.

But, for whatever reason, Farcia shows up to the scene without her lover Hef Dilbert, which was another unusual event because she NEVER is without him by her side unless he's in her side if you know what I mean, and I think that you do. Seeing them constantly together makes one wonder if they shower after their mating rituals.  Otherwise one would assume that their bodily fluids (sorry, just threw up in my mouth a little bit) would be keeping them stuck together like Gorilla Glue. Perhaps Dilbert was putting in his court-ordered community service time, spending an hour a week with his wife, Spandy. I'll have to write a post of Spandy one of these days, it will be a doozy. 

Meanwhile, over by Padlocks, Farcia is clueless what to do. She didn't make sergeant for her police skills, if you catch my drift. Surveying the scene, she notices there is a victim, I'm only going to use her initials because as you'll see at the end of the story, she's been victimized enough. So this victim, MM, is crying in pain after being struck by a maroon colored truck which hauled ass from the scene toot sweet. 

Berry Billcocks, the Lord of Padlock Manor is consoling the victim, MM. Now Berry, being something of an alcohol aficionado, pulls his green Swedish made chariot over to help Ms. MM. Farcia, smelling the fruits of Berry's recent imbibing, tells him to "move along now, nothing to see," and tells Berry to go ahead and drive his drunk-ass self on home. I know, I know, seems too far fetched to believe that a police officer would tell someone who is drunk to go ahead and drive himself home, but once you consider that no real police officers had shown up yet, it starts to make sense. 

Meanwhile, back at the crime scene, Ms. MM is surveying the damage done to her and telling Farcia to "go get that sumbitch what done hit her with his maroon pickemup."  Gathering what information she could fit onto the head of a pin that she calls a brain, MM tells Farcia that the perp - love that, "perp," sounds all "The Shield" and shit - driving the maroon truck is somewhat of a whatcha-call it - transient. He goes by the name of Fuckit.  I ain't even kidding, for real, the guy's called Fuckit.

So while Ms. MM is being taken care of by the paramedics, another officer is nice enough to document her injuries with what is known in the industry as a "camera." Yeah, I know, it seems pretty advanced for a small department like QPD to have such high-tech equipment but perhaps the officer used his personal one, I don't have all the details yet. 

Gratefully fleeing the scene, much like the driver of the maroon truck, Farcia goes off to pursue Fuckit. Perhaps hearing the word Fuckit made her think of Dilbert so she went off to pursue that. Unfortunately, while pursuing her idea of fuck it, she runs across the real Fuckit in his maroon truck! What the fuck is she supposed to do now? She can't ignore that she just found the perp, but the idea of fuck it with Dilbert is clouding what little judgement she has. 

So let us recap where we are at so far. We've got an injured woman, a DUI suspect told to drive himself home, a transient who ran over a woman and fled the scene leaving nothing but the smell of Berry's breath and tire tracks on her skirt behind. Still with me? 

Well, Farcia, not being with her mentor Dilbert, has to rely on what little police training she retains in her mostly empty head (we suspect that when she and Dilbert are together their combined IQ is right around Forest Gump level. When they stand side by side they create a wind tunnel). She decides to make contact with Mr., or perhaps Dr., Fuckit. What do all her years of "experience" lead her to do next? Well, she decides to cite and release him. You know, like they do when someone is going a bit to fast down Main Street, etc.  In other words, she lets this guy go.

So whipping out her dusty (and possibly crusty from the combined fluids she and Dilbert - ugh, can't continue) ticket book (remember, she doesn't take calls or do traffic, unless you count the traffic in Dilbert's pants) she writes up Mr. Fuckit for disorderly conduct and some other minor nonsense. Mr. Fuckit, having no actual address, semi-permanent refrigerator box residence, place of employment or the sort of moral compass that tells normal folks to see if the person they just ran down is OK, which would compel him to show up in court on the date Farcia wrote on the citation, says "suuuure I will show up on the court date! Yeah, that's the ticket!" - literally. So off drives Mr. Fuckit into the dark desert night, probably thanking his lucky stars he didn't get stopped by a real police officer (and that Farcia didn't take out the horniness his name was causing her on his leg like a rabid Rottweiler).

But you see, there is a fundamental problem with Farcia's logic (yes, an oxymoron, we know). When someone hits something like, for example, a mailbox (for lifelong Quartzsiters, there are places where the Postal Service lets you put a box in front of your house and leaves your mail there), and leaves the scene, well that's a tragedy for the mailbox but in the great scheme of things, not the crime of the century. But the case we have here, there is a victim. One who has tire tracks on her legs. This changes things dramatically. Like changing from a misdemeanor to a felony. And, Ms. MM and Berry unfortunately for Farcia, have a mouths and they aren't usually occupied by Dilbert's tiny crank like Farcia's.

Ms. MM, and the Lord of Padlock Manor, Berry Billcocks, are indignant, outraged and highly urinated at the shoddy police work done by Farcia. What do Ms. MM and Master Billcocks (and we) think should have happened to Mr. Fuckit? Mr. Fuckit should have been placed under arrest and taken into custody, probably tested for alcohol and/or drugs, charged with felony aggravated assault, felony leaving the scene of an accident with injuries, among other things, had his vehicle impounded as evidence, then three hots and a cot at the La Paz County Jail. 

But, in the continuing tradition of ineptitude, Farcia thinks to herself "he seemed nice, I'm glad I let a transient who just ran over a woman go" and proceeds to head back to her trailer. Maybe to get a "debriefing" from Chief Dilbert, she's hoping. "How long is that court ordered conjugal visit with Spandy anyway? He should be done by now. After all, he never lasts that long with me. Damn heart condition, glad he doesn't read the warning label on that bottle of Mexican Viagra."

Well, unfortunately for Farcia and Dilbert, he's not going to be able to cover her wide ass this time. Ms. MM and Master Billcocks are livid! Even though Farcia let Billcocks get out of yet another DUI (how many is this now? Geez, he's not even done with court on the last one!) for which he should be grateful, they are going around town screaming high and low about Farcia's incompetence and this miscarriage of justice. 

Fortunately for us, Ms. MM is willing to talk to anyone and everyone who wants to listen about what happened. Master Billcocks, too. Another thing that Ms. MM has going for her, is that she has some contacts at the County Attorney's office (having been the victim of a previous non-Farcia related incident) and has made an appointment to share her tragic story with them. She's still waiting on a callback from Inside Edition and Fox Business News.

Doubt any of this is real? Well go by the PD (if they are even open anymore) and do a public records request for the report. Make sure to ask for the pictures of the tire tracks across Ms. MM's legs that the other cop took as well. You'll have to do some digging to find the real names of the parties involved so you know what to fill out on the request form. But since this story is getting retold around town with more frequency than the retelling of Jesus (the real one, not Dilbert who just thinks he is Jesus) walking on water, it won't be that difficult. 

The story you have just read is true.  Alllegedly.  The names have been changed to protect me, I don't give a rat's ass about the innocent.

Fuck Yeah!

People of Quartzsite! We're dicks! We're reckless, arrogant, stupid dicks. And the Quartzsite Common Council members are pussies. And Laura Bluto is an asshole. Pussies don't like dicks, because pussies get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes: assholes that just want to shit on everything. Pussies may think they can deal with assholes their way. But the only thing that can fuck an asshole is a dick, with some balls. The problem with dicks is: they fuck too much or fuck when it isn't appropriate - and it takes a pussy to show them that. But sometimes, pussies can be so full of shit that they become assholes themselves... because pussies are an inch and half away from ass holes. I don't know much about this crazy, crazy world, but I do know this: If you don't let us fuck this asshole, we're going to have our dicks and pussies all covered in shit! 

Credit where credit is due, I may have lifted some (if not all) of this quote from Trey Parker and Matt Stone. If they knew anything at all about Quartzsite, they'd totally approve. Peace bros, I love you guys. 

....Sigh.....

Well, I have to apologize for not following up on my pledge to finish examining the La Paz county candidates. I went into a deep funk when I realized my homeboy Ron Paul wasn't going to win the Presidential election and couldn't bring myself to get on the internets. I don't even know if Mitt or Obama won yet, but I have the Election Day coverage DVR'd so don't tell me who won. This weekend I'll catch up and am sure it will be a nail biter.

So what's happening around town? Anything exciting? I tried to read the council agenda for Tuesdays meeting but it seemed to be put together by a retarded chimpanzee so I gave up. One thing that manages to continue through all the turmoil is that the Town Clerk never seems to learn from previous mistakes and improve her performance. Weird! Maybe now that the people who formerly fixed all her mistakes are gone she will be fired for incompetence. Pfft, yeah right. The only people who seem to get fired are those who actually knew how to do their jobs.

Maybe once I can summon up the energy to change out of my days old jammies and shower off for the first time in a week, I'll scoot around Town and get the lowdown on all the recent gossip and happenings. I promise, I will share whatever I discover with my loyal reader on here. It's awesome having a fan. I mean, besides myself and my cat (who can't read by the way, but maybe that's why she still likes me).