As long time Gentle Readers of ths blog know my favourite Christmas song is “Christmas Eve/Sarajevo” by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

However, I have recently come across a rendition of “Carol of the Bells” which threatens to knock TSO of of the top of my list.

Without further ado, I give you ThePianoGuys:

One of the things that makes this particular version so appealing to me is not only is a beautiful piece, but the man playing the cello is so obviously enjoying himself that it just sweeps you up into the spirit of the song — and of the season.

Maybe not everyones cup of chai, but I think it is magnificent.


Unsung Hero of the Day

Here’s to Nog, the Slightly Bemused.

About 36,000 years ago — more or less — ol’ Nog was out on a hunting trip, stumbled across an orphaned litter of those four-legged barky things and thought: “Huh. Wonder of the kids would like to play with a couple of these?”

… And things were Never The Same Again.

Hoist a pint to the memory of Nog — who never knew that dropping a couple of puppies into his pockets for the kids would literally change the world — and give any doggies in your cave a good belly-scritching.


So, let me get this straight:

The same folks who closed down a privately-funded, open air memorial to World War 2 and closed down over a thousand square miles of the Atlantic Ocean because of a temper tantrum …

… think that it’s a good idea to be involved in your health care.


And this is a good idea … why?

Coercion is coercion. Anyone who’d stoop to holding a privately-funded park hostage for political gain would probably rub his pedipalps with glee at the thought of holding your healthcare hostage for even greater political gain.

But, that’s just me.


Remember “Kilted To Kick Cancer”

If you like these little posts, go hit Ad’s blog, or the Kilted To Kick Cancer website, and donate a little something towards the research of male-specific cancers.

‘Allo, ‘allo.

Where to start …

Inmate J from the Swing Shift summation is still trying to get his books that the Chief Deputy denied him; I imagine he’ll keep trying.

River shook down West/8 and had all sorts of fun. We found a pair of sneakers in Inmate X’s bunk, with no note in either his Misc Notes screen or his Medical screen; and we found a zip-lock bag of band-aids, triple antibiotic ointment, gauze and all sorts of medical goodness where Inmate Q is bunking, but (again) nothing in the Misc Notes or Medical screens, and no “May Keep In Tank” sticker on the zip-lock baggie. So, of course, we glommed onto them. After Inmate X threw a wall-eyed hissy-fit, I called the nurse to check – I’ll be a sonovagun, both of them have medical clearance for their goodies, although it’s not in their computer records.

Sigh. I must remind Ms. Cleo to start taking my calls again.

In addition to the stuff above, we also found a water-bag cover hand-sewn from a sheet, a woven plastic handle for the water-bag-cover, half of a Diet Coke can, a complete Gatorade bottle, half of a Dr Pepper can, a tattoo pick, umpteen squillion loose staples, a large garbage bag, about twenty feet of fishing cord, a fishing pole, a spare uniform, several extra linens (One of which Inmate T was sneaking in a very personal location, anatomically speaking. Yes, a whole sheet. I was impressed) and the usual flotsam and jetsam.

After the shake-down was through as we were returning the inmates to West/8 Inmate N tried pushing Officer Oldskool’s buttons. Didn’t work so well with the lad, although he’s got enough smarts to not go far enough to earn a Use of Force. We might keep an eye on the mouthy little squab, though.

River did water-checks at 0319.

When we checked the temps, Special Housing Unit was showing between 85 and 86, so I bumped the thermostats down a wee bit and had the purge run. Hour later the temperatures were around the 80-degree mark.

Over at Central, the kitchen lost power about 0045-ish, and got it back somewhere around 0245. Then, it went out again at 0436, came back, went out again at 0447 and came back about 0500. We’re feeding bag-meals to the inmates for breakfast.

Central/North did water-checks at 0458 and shook-down Central/North/1, finding a candle and a tattoo pick.

Central/Female checked their water at 0453.

In other news, Eduardo is proving to be a slippier character than I had thought – he does remain un-flushed at this time. SGT Krunch has gently requested that he be evicted from the control room before her next tour, which I believe to be this Sunday.

Personally, I’m giving hard thought to handing the little bugger a radio and assigning him to the West Tier.

That should be about it.

Nothing but (appropriate) love,


Bugscuffle SO

That’s going on the blog.

My lady loves spiky foods. She eats Indian cuisine with aplomb, ploughs her way through your standard Southwestern chilies with her usual verve, and wasabi was conquered a long time ago.

This past week, Sgt Krunch and I met her in Big City at the upscale Mexican eatery where she was being her usual adorable, exuberantly sparkly self.

Our food came, and she spread a little of the pico de gallo side onto her chimichanga …

… “Aren’t dachsie bellies just the cutest thing ever? They just beg for nuzzling, oh, and don’t you just hate: ‘There is no I in team’? Maybe not, but there are several I’s in ‘Platitude-spouting idiot’. I mean, seriously?”

And took a dainty bite, followed immediately by, “Holy [deleted]! [Deleted]! [Deleted]! [Deleted]!” — Pttooey! — “Holy crap, I think I just bit into Satan’s scrotum!”

The following silence in a relatively busy lunch-hour restaurant was … beautiful.

There was a great deal of water consumed, a lemon wedge rubbed hastily along her tongue, a little more water, and then she blinked and blurted, “Did I yell that?”

Poor Sgt Krunch was laughing so hard, she couldn’t take a bite of her own food; and I have to admit that I was trying awfully hard to keep the gigglesnorting under control.

Heh.  Right off the cuff.

I think someone may have planted their jalapenos a little bit too close to their ghost peppers.


This seems to be going well.

Today’s summation was the introduction of Eduardo, a character who caused me no end of grief — from all sides — during his short tenure at Bugscuffle County.


Good morning ladles and germs,

To start out our night at River properly, Inmate B decided to play possum after headcounts. He refused to stir for officer shouts and banging on the door, and when we went into SHU/23, he didn’t respond to shaking, tapping or sweet nothings bellowed into his ear. I was trying to decide if I could creatively articulate getting a response with a drive-stun when apparently his telepathy decided to kick in and he said Bad Things to us. Which is good enough evidence of being alive in my book.

River did water-checks at 0256; and shook-down East/3. We came up empty-handed, which considering that our inmates are not that well-behaved, makes me wonder what new hiding place they’re hiding their stuff in these days.

Central/North did their water-checks at 0106; and Central/Female at 0103. Central/Female also shook-down Female/9 and came up with several extra blankets. However, they also report that while the trusties were in the visitation area during the shake-down, two of them got into each other’s faces. Seems like all is not happy in Trustieland.

Tonight’s medal-winner in the D’oh! Contest is Inmate G in Intake. By all accounts the wee lass got nicked by PD for DWI, was delivered into our tender custody and wound up in Detox/2 for Grand Mopery and Contempt of Cop (misdemeanor). Once there, she proceeded to throw one bee-yoo-ti-ful wall-eyed, ring-tail temper tantrum. As uncle to several sprogs betwixt the ages of two and nine, I can recognize true artistry in fit throwing, and this was One Of A Kind.

She screamed, hollered, beat on the bench, spun in circles on the floor, kicked the door, all the usual, but what elevated this performance to High Art was when she took off her jeans and used them to beat the unoffending cell camera until the picture fuzzed.

The Intake crew, being the unappreciative Philistines that they are, took a dim view of this display and chained her drunk butt to the bench. One would have thought that this would have been the curtain call, but our Intrepid Damsel proceeded to take off her shirt and strangle her-own-self with it. Which got her stripped nekkid and placed on Suicide Watch as well as being chained to the bench. Goodness, I hope that was all worth it.

As I write this, we have some kind of kerfuffle in West/8.

I’m back.

Inmate M has decided to remove himself from West/8. According to Inmate M, Inmate J sent another inmate to Inmate M to inform Inmate M that Inmate J did not want him in “his” tank. Goodness. ‘T’Were I a betting man, I’d lay money that the inmate delivering the message is going to be Inmate T. I may have made a strategic error in moving those two from Central/North/6 a while back. Anyhoo, Inmate M has been moved to West/1, and when I get back to River tonight, I’m going to separate Inmates J and T; with a Separation Notation in both their records. And depending on my mood, I’m liable to see how far I can spread the inhabitants of West/8 around.

In other news, I have discovered that a field mouse has taken up residence in River Control Room. The kids have named it “Eduardo”. While intriguing, I have scotched the suggestion that Eduardo be sponsored through the Basic County Corrections Course; and as soon as I can snag his little butt, Eduardo will probably be taking a “vacation” by way of the Porcelain Express.

Hmm. That’s about it, I think.

In closing,


Bugscuffle SO

First question!

Gentle Reader ExGeeEye asks: “What does it mean ‘working out with a water bag’?”

Excellent question.

Bugscuffle County does not supply our inmates with weight equipment.

Matter-of-fact, we don’t supply much more than a basketball and a couple of racquet balls.

Inmates, however, are nothing if not adaptable. Given half a chance they steal garbage bags, fill them full of water from the showers, and use those in improvised weight routines.

Given that one gallon of water weights eight pounds, a 33-gallon garbage bag can be a fairly significant amount of weight.

Voila! “Water bag”.