the one crime I’ll never be arrested for

Never Forget!According to the US Court of Appeals, driving with lotsa cash is against the law.

Let’s do a quick check of the raincoaster situation:

No driver’s license. No car. No money.

Yay, I’m immune!

from The Newspaper, via Fark.

A federal appeals court ruled yesterday that if a motorist is carrying large sums of money, it is automatically subject to confiscation. In the case entitled, “United States of America v. $124,700 in U.S. Currency,” the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit took that amount of cash away from Emiliano Gomez Gonzolez, a man with a “lack of significant criminal history” neither accused nor convicted of any crime.

On May 28, 2003, a Nebraska state trooper signaled Fistfull o' probably causeGonzolez to pull over his rented Ford Taurus on Interstate 80. The trooper intended to issue a speeding ticket, but noticed the Gonzolez‘s name was not on the rental contract. The trooper then proceeded to question Gonzolez — who did not speak English well — and search the car. The trooper found a cooler containing $124,700 in cash, which he confiscated. A trained drug sniffing dog barked at the rental car and the cash. For the police, this was all the evidence needed to establish a drug crime that allows the force to keep the seized money.

Associates of Gonzolez testified in court that they had pooled their life savings to purchase a refrigerated truck to start a produce business. Gonzolez flew on a one-way ticket to Chicago to buy a truck, but it had sold by the time he had arrived. Without a credit card of his own, he had a third-party rent one for him. Gonzolez hid the money in a cooler to keep it from being noticed and stolen. He was scared when the troopers began questioning him about it. There was no evidence disputing Gonzolez‘s story.

Yesterday the Eighth Circuit summarily dismissed Gonzolez‘s story. It overturned a lower court ruling that had found no evidence of drug activity, stating, “We respectfully disagree and reach a different conclusion… Possession of a large sum of cash is ‘strong evidence’ of a connection to drug activity.”

Judge Donald Lay found the majority’s reasoning faulty and issued a strong dissent.

“Notwithstanding the fact that claimants seemingly suspicious activities were reasoned away with plausible, and thus presumptively trustworthy, explanations which the government failed to contradict or rebut, I note that no drugs, drug paraphernalia, or drug records were recovered in connection with the seized money,” Judge Lay wrote. “There is no evidence claimants were ever convicted of any drug-related crime, nor is there any indication the manner in which the currency was bundled was indicative of
drug use or distribution
.”

“Finally, the mere fact that the canine alerted officers to the presence of drug residue in a rental car, no doubt driven by dozens, perhaps scores, of patrons during the course of a given year, coupled with the fact that the alert came from the same location where the currency was discovered, does little to connect the money to a controlled substance offense,” Judge Lay Concluded.

The full text of the ruling is available in a 36k PDF file at the source link below.

Source: PDF File US v. $124,700 (US Court of Appeals, Eighth Circuit, 8/19/2006)

We are all V

impersonating a journalist is a crime…somebody better tell Fox News!

So there’s this kid. He loves the Mets. Really, doesn’t everyone? But he loves them so much he forged an NBC employee card and got a press pass so he could get into Shea Stadium to watch them play.

And now he’s in the pokey.

Police arrested the 18-year-old Leli Friday night at Shea just before the start of the New York Mets-Colorado Rockies game and charged him with impersonating a journalist, the Queens District Attorney announced Saturday…

Leli was also charged with criminal possession of a forged instrument, falsifying business records, larceny, criminal possession of stolen property, criminal impersonation and criminal trespass.

He was arraigned Saturday in Queens Criminal Court and released on his own recognizance.

Leli was scheduled to return to court on Sept. 27. He faces up to seven years in prison if he’s convicted.

Man, not even George Will loves it that much!

welcome to *$. Asshole.

Starbucks, yo! And don't gimme no sheeyit: Howard's my homeboy!Re-posted from another forum. Sorry if you’ve already read it; go on to All Your Snakes Are Belong To Us or Chad Vader, Day Shift Manager, Part One or Part Two.

Never come between addicts and their caffeine. Working seven years at *$, I learned this well. They really do believe in the happy, smiley customer service, and it runs deep in that company, but sometimes you just have to say no. Even though it could cost you your job.

One day some eedjut was making fun of us behind the counter.

“I bet your moms are proud of you, pouring coffee for a living, har har!” etc etc, AT LENGTH. He’s treating the whole weekday morning lineup to his hilarious routines, oh god, he is a real Jim Carrey of the Latte, this one. On and on he goes.

Until he gets up to the front, and he says, “Just gimme a big, strong coffee. You aught to be good at that, since that’s all you do with your life.”

At that point I poured the coffee and, without approaching the counter, spun around.

No,” I said. “You don’t understand. You don’t get this coffee unless I give it to you.”

Pause.

You could have heard a quark drop in that place.

The staff couldn’t believe I’d pull this, and neither could Eedjut here. The customers in line new better than to interfere when a drama was unfolding right before their eyes, so they were silent, too.

“Naw, seriously. You gotta give me the coffee.”

“No, seriously, I don’t.” Pause, during which a dawning realization lit up his face. Would I give up this sale? Yep.

“Who’s in charge? Who’s the manager?”

I am,” I lied, smoothly.

Pause.

“Oh, okay. I guess I look like a jerk, eh? Sorry, can I please have my coffee?”

Honest to god, he tipped, too.

Once in a lifetime, boys and girls.

Is it relevant to note that during a job review, when it came to the “Interpersonal Communications” section, the manager giving me my review said,

“Given the difference between what you could say and what you do say, I’m giving you ‘outstanding’?”

how to build a honey trap for virgins

Does Google know their shit or what? These guys have demographics down to a scary science.

Here is their engineer-enticing display from a recent Star Trek convention.

E3!

Google duplicated the bridge of the fictional Starship Enterprise and embarked on a mission in Las Vegas to recruit engineers, at a gathering of cultish Star Trek devotees.

More than 10,000 fans of the Star Trek franchise that began with a television series debut in September of 1966 were expected by organisers to make pilgrimages to the official annual convention at the Las Vegas Hilton.

Oh yeah, this probably marks the only opportunity these guys will ever have to get inside a Hilton.

some Mount Pleasantries

Mount Pleasant Community CentreFrom the Archive:  
  Saturday, September 28, 2002

Would you think there could be a place of such hubris as to call itself “Mount Pleasant” even if it is not a mountain at all but just a big enough hill to be really intimidating to cyclists and rollerbladers and maybe the odd wheezy geezer, though great fun to roll down, though it is devoutly to be wished that they repair the damn cracks in the road before I end up eating pavement? I think not. Where were we? Oh yes.

Mount Pleasant is another in this blog’s cast of characters; the neighborhoods have names, but the neighbors don’t. Actually, for a Vancouver neighborhood it’s really pretty neighborly and low-key. The Gucci quotient there is quite low, and the one and only time a Ferrari was parked outside the Starbucks it turned out to belong to Barry Neidermier, a skank who was making a living off smuggled cigarettes and smuggled 14-year-olds. One of the teenaged whores refused to testify until the cops went to her pad and rescued her teddy bear. No lie.

But most of the people around there are from the deeper end Dysfunction Junction shopsof the gene pool. Mount Pleasant runs south along Main from Dysfunction Junction at Broadway right up to the peak of the Mount itself, which up around King Ed, in Queen E Park. Broadway is actually Ninth avenue and King Ed is twenty-fifth, but nobody calls them that; it would be like calling John WayneMarion.” It’s a nice, working-class place with neat little old houses, maybe in need of a coat of paint or two, and big, rambling Victorians with truly elaborate gardens and lowrise apartment buildings full of Filipino immigrants and poor families who all gather on the patio at the cocktail hour for a little ballroom dancing. It’s quite a sight, I tell you; looks like a really, really casual wedding every single night. Jeans and sweats are good enough for most, and some of the youngest have been known to waltz in Speedos, at least when the sprinkler is going on the lawn. The middle-agers are the best dancers, but the expression on their faces makes them look like radio-controlled evil clones or something; lighten up people!

The centre of this little universe is not the Community Centre, though it’s lovely. It’s not the general store, there are too many. It’s not even the yoga studio. It’s the Starbucks.

But wait, you say, Starbucks is a synthesized, mass-produced global fast-food organization. Sure, you’re right, sometimes it is.

But sometimes it isn’t.

Sometimes it’s something else completely.

Mount Pleasant hippie benchThey say if you stand at the door of the Ritz-Carleton long enough you will see everyone on earth pass by. Well I say if you sit at an outside table at the Mount Pleasant Starbucks long enough you will see everyone in the neighborhood at least once, and probably at least one person you haven’t seen in twenty years, no matter where you’re from. It is the centre of the cosmos, at least on a very microcosmetic scale. There I learned all about how Pugs aren’t the snotty little wretches they seem to be; a woman tied her tiny FooFoo to one of the tables and the little critter was so game and friendly that it dragged the table thirty feet around the corner so it could say hi to everyone. Remember, this thing is the size of an ankle boot.

Once, I was there with my sister from back east; doesn’t matter where, it’s all “back east.” Could be Paris, could be Plum Hollow, it’s all just “back east.”

So there we were, so of course we went to the Starbucks. They hadn’t landed back east yet, so it was a new experience for her. We got in line behind a couple of cycle cops, also an unfamiliar sight to her eastern eyes.

No doughnuts? What’s up with that?” she asked, incredulous. I believe in Ontario you aren’t allowed to sell coffee unless you sell doughnuts as well. I think you get three years.

The cop ahead of us reached the head of the line. He was still wearing his helmet, along with the military-geek shirt and the spandex shorts they wear. He asked the barista, “Is that bran muffin low-fat?”

No, it was not.

“Okay, then I’ll have a multigrain bagel, dry, and a tall non-fat latte.”

My sister turned to me and asked, “What the hell kind of cop is that?

Victorian Houses in Mount Pleasant

I walked in one day, having the kind of day where everything seems to be going my way for no reason at all, which is one of my favorite kind of days. I think I was going to get some coffee, though come to think of it there may have been snacking somewhere on the agenda, but just in a really casual sort of way. I walked in. I listened. Oh, oh, it’s one of my favorite songs! I turned to the barista and asked, “Steve! Is this the Committments tape?”

Steve, a musician when not baristicating, gave me a look of unutterable scorn, the kind of look a pediatrician would shoot Goebbels, and he said:

It’s ARETHA!

I so white.