Been up since freakin’ 6 ayem this morning to cover an informational picket out in Porter County, so I kinda got nothin’ tonight. But his gives me a chance to post more pictures from the gig, these being of the newlywedded Mr. and Mrs. Opie, aka the cutest couple in the universe (and remember, you heard it
hear hear heer HERE first) (See? I’m so tired I can’t even spell.):
Another title having nothing to do with my entry, other than the people who need to know what I’m talking about do. It’s funner that way sometimes.
Except for the Martin funeral, however, there really isn’t much to dish about—that is, unless you count the complete wang Gary Mayor Rudy Clay left in my mouth after his ugly show of ego at Martin’s wake Sunday. MerFer rolls up in his Mayoral Hummer, assistant and bodyguard/driver in tow, and waltzes up to the front of the line and bypasses the hour and a half wait the rest of us had. Yeah, I know this guy thinks he’s a marked man since someone’s tried to shoot him up once already; whatever. No one’s going to convince me that he and Gary Martin were THAT good of friends that he should’ve been given rights reserved to the family, close friends or even the sheriff. I mean, Hobart Mayor Linda Buzinec stood in line maybe 15, 20 people ahead of me—you didn’t see HER taking advantage of her position. Neither did any of the law enforcement officers who attended, at least none that I saw. Tool.
I do get to write a Political Notebook item out of it, though, and that’s always fun because you get to be as snarky as you wanna.
And I don’t like it one bit.
That is all.
I forgot aaaaalllll about it after all was said and done.
that I ganked from the lovely Bumptious and have been dying to use, but did y’all hear about the 24 morons that got busted in NWI for wanting to have sex with kids?
Without endorsing sex with underage children whatsoever (because I absolutely DO NOT), why would anyone try to solicit underage sex on the Internet? It’s bad enough having to wonder if the person you’re talking to online is actually who they say they are, so why would you compound the anxiety by doing something you’re likely going to get busted for sooner or later!?? Is there some sexual turn-on of which I’m unawares?
My girls’ story after the jump:
By Danielle Braff and Christin Nance
Post-Tribune staff writers
Two dozen men from Indiana and surrounding states arrested in the past few days had one common interest: An alleged desire to have sex with children.
Some of them traveled from other parts of the state to do it. Others talked about doing it online. A few brought condoms.
All are accused of using the computer to meet young girls in an attempt to have sex.
The men were arrested in a massive undercover operation in Porter, St. Joseph and Tippecanoe counties. Their stories, detailed in court documents and by detectives, describe the extent the 24 men arrested went to in order to manipulate the children.
U.S. Attorney Joseph Van Bokkelen said the operation involved 29 federal, state and local law enforcement agencies and took place over 21 days ending Tuesday. More arrests are expected in the coming week.
The sting netted Matthew Hensley, a 24-year-old Valparaiso man who formerly worked with girls as the varsity assistant coach for the women’s basketball team at Andrean High School in Merrillville.
In a series of online conversations with someone named jen_indy_13, Hensley told her that even though she was 13, he’d still have sex with her.
He gave her his phone number and promised he wouldn’t tell anyone about their conversations or decision to meet.
Later, he explained to the girl in detail how to have sex. When she didn’t appear to understand, Hensley told her, “I’ll show you when I come over.”
The woman who answered the phone at Hensley’s home declined to comment, as did athletes at Andrean High School.
Another local man arrested offered a beer and a first sexual experience to a child.
“Would you let me play with you,” jackdaniels_19962002 asked amanda_13.2006. “I think so,” she answered in an online chat earlier this month.
JackDaniels turned out to be James Daniel, a 30-year-old from Valparaiso who is nearly 6 feet, 225 pounds with brown hair and blue eyes. Amanda was William McKenna, a special agent with the U.S. Secret Service, posing as a 13-year-old girl who was a virgin but curious about sex.
Daniel was also curious and eager to have sex with Amanda, according to their online conversation.
Daniel allegedly suggested Amanda have a beer before they have intercourse, and he asked that she perform sexual acts on him as well, according to court documents. The two agreed to meet, and Daniel was promptly taken into custody.
Officers posed as underage girls, and sometimes boys who were usually 13 years old.
“They knew that they were chatting with a 13-year-old child; There is no doubt about that,” Van Bokkelen said.
Most of the predators made repeated efforts to meet with the underage female or male for sexual purposes, and 11 allegedly traveled to a location. Those who didn’t travel made numerous sexually explicit remarks during chat room sessions and, in some cases, filmed themselves on Web cams.
The 24 men are charged with using the Internet in an attempt to coerce and entice children to engage in sexual activity. A conviction carries a mandatory minimum of 10 years in prison, with a possible maximum of life in prison and a $250,000 fine.
Van Bokkelen said Hensley was caught when he traveled from his apartment on the north side of Valparaiso to a house the police used on the south side of Valparaiso.
As Hensley was speaking to jen_indy_13, a Crown Point man was having a similar conversation with another agent posing as a 13-year-old. The two were talking in an online chatroom called Romance by Location, and David Rouhselang, 41, of Crown Point, was allegedly attempting to show the girl every aspect of romance.
Rouhselang told her that as an older man, he’d be able to help her learn about sex. “I could be the TV repair man and visit you when moms go to work,” he told her in the chatroom in an Aug. 3 conversation.
Tim Viertel, of the U.S. Secret Service in Chicago, aired a warning to predators:
“I would say to the bad guys out there who may be watching this, to let you know, you have operated for several years thinking you’re anonymous out there. Well, it’s a double-edged sword; from now on you don’t really know if your dealing with or conversing with a 13-year-old or an officer of Valparaiso Police Department. Keep that in mind.
“That is our duty as law enforcement, to get on the Internet and disrupt criminals out there who would do our children harm.”
Contact Danielle Braff at 648-3079 or . Contact Christin Nance at 477-6015 or
The men arrested:
-- David Rouhselang, 41, Crown Point
-- Clayton McNeely, 25, Monticello
-- Justin Reichart, 22, Fort Wayne
-- Matthew Hensley, 24, Valparaiso
-- James Daniel, 30, Valparaiso
-- J. Anthony Capozzoli, 26, Greentown
-- Travis Springer, 21, Decatur
-- Derek Scott Davey, Berrien Springs, Mich.
-- James R. McManus, 35, of Fort Wayne
-- Matthew K. Toosley, 25, Knox
-- John A. Payne, 29, Plymouth
-- Steven Berry, 46, of Rockville
-- Brian Gladish, 35, Montgomery
-- Charles D. Fuller, 45, Lafayette
-- Jimmie L. Collins, 47, Whiteland
-- David Lohman, 37, Indianapolis
-- Rahus Mannara, 33, South Bend
-- Michael Hackley, 35, Springfield, Ohio
-- Donald Cochran, 47, Rushville
-- Jeffrey P. Taylor, 37, Logansport
-- Thomas Wallace, 35, Anderson
-- Mark Ciesolka, 32, Columbus
Here’s my day: Former Lake County Police Chief Gary Martin and ISP Trooper Lt. Gary Dudley were killed in a vehicle accident while biking for their annual charity ride that raises money for the fallen officers’ families across Indiana. Haven’t gotten all the details, but preliminary reports say that someone crashed into the cyclists’ supply truck, causing the truck to smash into the cyclists. Three other cyclists were injured in the accident, as was the driver that caused the crash.
I was just with these guys Sunday covering their stop in Merrillville. They were healthy, happy, exhausted but no worse for the wear. I joked with Martin about his goatee and earring (his “teaching persona,” he called it, as he was about to step back into the classroom to teach fledgling cops), and how he left his wife after their daughter’s wedding Saturday to rejoin the ride. I kidded Dudley about being “the brains of the operation.” And I said “Hello” and shook the hand of the guy who drives the supply truck—can you even imagine how HE feels right now!?? Good God. It wasn’t even his fault. All I can say is, I sure hope the person who hit them wasn’t drunk, because woe unto him if he was.
The Baby had him as a teacher when she was in undergrad, and she loved him. She was pretty distraught when I talked to her last. I’m just kind of stunned by it; I mean, I just saw these guys, and now they’re gone. I HATE when that happens.
Anyway, if any of y’all are so inclined to donate to their mission, you can either call (219) 755-3400 or go to the C.O.P.S Web site: Lookit.
Yesterday was a day for emotional drainage, I’ll tell you what. The fun stuff: Poppy had a 3-D ultrsound and invited me to come along with her, the hub and fam. My (childless) verdict: I highly recommend them to all the preggos out there, if for nothing else than to see your child 1) not do what the tech wants, such as stop hiding her face behind her hands and knees, and 2) flip everyone off in a very subtle way for even suggesting she listen. Seriously, though, we were all awed by the moving and the cuteness and stuff. I’m glad she let me come along for the ride. I still say, however, that what the tech called “lost data” on the sprog’s cranial region is actually a head full of dark hair that has been causing Pop hellacious heartburn, and that baby’s going to come out with a Fraggle poof. Betcha a dollar.
So after all that excitement, I watched Flight 93 all the way through for the first time. My first reaction: The only reason this is up for six Emmys or whatever is because of the subject matter, not because it’s fantastically acted or put together or anything. That, though, didn’t make it any less difficult to watch, and I found myself completely wrung out and fired up at the same time—wrung out because it brought back my day that day (a meaningful day in my life for various and sundry reasons), and fired up because I found myself wanting to fuck with some terrorists. Seriously. All I could sit there and think was, “The actions the passengers took that day—regardless of how many lives they ended up saving by diverting the plane from its target or whether the plane was already going down because the terrorist pilot was a dumbass or whatever—really put a wrench in the terrorists’ plan, and I SO would want to be responsible for that should I ever be on a plane overrun with the pigfuckers.” Saving hundreds of other people? Yeah, ok, whatever. That’s great. I want to make sure these fuckers die failures.
So all you terrorists out there, take note: Y’all ought to be real glad I don’t travel by air often, because should we ever get stuck on a plane together? You’re going to have to kill me first, because I’m going to make your mission a living hell to execute.
Our good buddy mac posted a little something about some broad who got busted for smuggling heroin by—get this—soaking her unnywears in it. Managed to get, like, three pounds into 15 pair of assorted panties and long johns and shit, right? So here’s my question: How the hell do you get the heroin back OUT of the unnywears*? Seriously.
[*Ok, and the first person who makes the obvious leap of sniffing the heroin out of the unnywears (HUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUH! Shut-UP, Beavis! ) gets made fun of.]
Waiting for Mother while she had her semi-annual doctor check-up, I was totally rockin’ out with the ol’ iPod, and have you ever had that thing where you think you know the lyrics to a song that you’ve heard a zillion times on the radio, only to find out that you really didn’t and wow! that’s a really good song? I had that moment today with “Brian Wilson” by the Barenaked Ladies. And it’s not like I haven’t heard the song a zillion times; I do have their excellent first album, Gordon. But I guess having ear pods crammed in your ears and blasting the music straight into your brain puts a whole new perspective on things, because that’s a really good song. It did occur to me, however, that BNL does sing a lot about mental health. As proof, I give you the lyrics to “Brian Wilson,” because I’m sure you didn’t actually listen to them and commit them to memory long before I did:
Drove downtown in the rain nine-thirty on a Tuesday night,
just to check out the late-night record shop.
Call it impulsive, call it compulsive, call it insane;
but when I’m surrounded I just can’t stop.
*It’s a matter of instinct, it’s a matter of conditioning,
It’s a matter of fact.
You can call me Pavlov’s dog
Ring a bell and I’ll salivate- how’d you like that?
Dr. Landy tell me you’re not just a pedagogue,
cause right now I’m
Lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did
Well I’m lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did.
So I’m lying here, just staring at the ceiling tiles.
and I’m thinking about what to think about.
Just listening and relistening to Smiley Smile,
and I’m wondering if this is some kind of creative drought
because I am
And if you want to find me I’ll be out in the sandbox,
wondering where the hell all the love has gone.
Playing my guitar and building castles in the sun,
and singing “Fun, Fun, Fun.”
I had a dream that I was three hundred pounds
and though I was very heavy,
I floated ‘til I couldn’t see the ground
I floated ‘til I couldn’t see the ground
Somebody help me, I couldn’t see the ground
Somebody help me, I couldn’t see the ground
Somebody help me because I’m
Drove downtown in the rain nine-thirty on a Tuesday night.
Just to check out the late-night record shop.
Call it impulsive,
call it compulsive, call it insane;
but when I’m surrounded I just can’t stop.
*denotes the lyrics I never really understood until today
Since I’m on my college newspaper nerdfest these days, here’s a story about the time I had a cartoon drawn about me. No, no, don’t get all excited; it’s not a happy story. See, there was this guy who was on the paper with us knuckleheads, a rather talented bloke who served as our design chief. He and I were a year apart and went to the same high school, and he was fun-loving and wonderful and an all-around great guy. In fact, the two of us to see Van Ha
lengar together and had a fantastic time, even after his car broke down on the road and we had to hitch a ride in the back of a pickup to get to the show. It was all good.
Well, the college newspaper being what it was, and all us knuckleheads being in our early 20s with maybe the sense God gave a goat, drama of only the most vicious kind nerds can dream up ensued, and through the fallout this guy made the rest of us sworn enemies—so much so that he transferred to the other commuter campus we have in the good ol’ County of Lake and became a cartoonist for them. And in one of his cartoons, he fashioned a character that not only looked like me, but hit a little too close to home with the insider information, if you catch my drift. Didn’t mention my name, though. Now, I’d heard about the cartoon at some point after it ran in the other campus paper, but I didn’t actually see it until several years after it and all the ensuing drama were semi-distant memories.
Perhaps it was a delayed reaction, but I remember being fairly outraged by the whole thing. I mean, here was a cartoon character that absolutely looked like me and was sharing not-so-thinly veiled information about me to all of Lake County (or at least the people who went to this other campus and actually read their rag)—of COURSE everyone was going to know it was me from looking at that cartoon, even though my name wasn’t attached to it. DUH, right!??
(Whatever, man. Rock on with that sense of self-importance.)
Anyway, I’m bringing y’all this story because for the first time since I rented my space here on the Innerbunny, my peeps have been kind of wiggin’ about it and what I may or may not be writing about people. And I understand that if you can recognize yourself in something, there’s a chance that other people will, too, and people as a rule want to control the message that’s put out about them. I work with it every single day of my life, so believe me, I get it.
The reason I started blogging—aside from the fact that I write so devoid of character in my everyday life, I wanted to see what my voice sounds like now that most of the creativity has been pounded out of my brain; and that I, like 99.99999999 percent of all other bloggers out there, am vain and more-than-slightly exhibitionist—is because I like having a place where I can share my life and the goings-on in it as I see them. And if I talk about the people in my life as they relate to me and my goings-on, I’m allowed to do that, at least to the point that I’m not putting them in danger or sharing things they want kept secret. Really, it’s no different than me talking to any one of my closest friends, except for the fact that here, I keep real names out unless I either have people’s permission to use real names (like Tara and Kaffy) or they have a documented, public reputation. The other thing with which I take great pains is that anyone who interacts with me is likely not going to be surprised by anything I have to say here, because it’s pretty much the same thing that I’ve said to everyone else a million times already.
All of this to say, as much as we think we’re that important, the Innerbunny really is a vast wasteland where nobody really knows anyone, so it’s likely that no one’s going to know who you are.
For the last seven, eight years, all the fashion mags have proclaimed OPI’s ”I’m Not Really a Waitress“ nail color as the gold standard of reds. And it’s a fine red, not too blue, not too orange. I have a bottle of it or two myself.
Anyway, I would’ve wholeheartedly continued the endorsement, but there’s a better choice out there. Behold:
This is OPI’s ”It’s a Doozy, Says Suzy,” the red from the company’s 25th anniversary collection, and IT is the perfect red. In fact, it might be the exact copy of a Charles of the Ritz red w/ gold shimmer I borrowed from my friend Jeffrey’s sister that I was never able to replace. And yeah, my feet are on the rather freakishly small side.
of what it says that, aside from the abundant fecal references, I really didn’t hate Joe Dirt?
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.
Give it to me, baby.
Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...
The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:
/> Wanna make a bunch of money doing what you're doing right now?
Hey Webmasters! - Make $$$
The AllPosters.com Affiliates Program is a great way to make money with your website. All you have to do is place links on your site to AllPosters.com. When your site visitors click on your links and make purchases at AllPosters.com, you earn 25%-30% of the sale. Sign up today!
Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].
Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].
Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving? The frigging church. My church and my mom’s… ...[go].
Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know. I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].
Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment! I have… ...[go].
- June 2013
- October 2012
- June 2012
- April 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- August 2010
- May 2010
- March 2010
- January 2010
- September 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- June 2006
- May 2006
- April 2006
- March 2006
- February 2006
- January 2006
- December 2005
- November 2005
- October 2005
- September 2005
- August 2005
- July 2005
- June 2005
- May 2005
- April 2005
- March 2005
- February 2005
- January 2005
- December 2004
- November 2004
- October 2004
- September 2004
- August 2004
- July 2004
- June 2004
- May 2004
- April 2004
- March 2004
- February 2004
script assistance by
This explains that large bit of type at the top.
Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.
<< chicago blogs >>
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.