A lot of times, I’ll have a television on in the background while I’m doing something else. Most of the time, it’s some bland show that doesn’t really attract my attention and doesn’t distract me from whatever else I’m doing. Why have it on, then? Beats me. If I really need to concentrate I’ll put it on an all-music channel. But I’ve found one show that demands my attention… and really shouldn’t. “How It’s Made”. Some Canadian show that, well, shows you how various mundane, everyday objects are manufactured. Really mundane items, like wire fencing, or swizzle sticks, or cotton swabs. Who cares? Why should I care how they manufacture valve stem caps? But… I can’t stop watching once it comes on. There’s some subliminal signal that turns me into a drooling vegetable that stares unblinking at the screen while an insanely complicated machine carves out popsicle sticks.

In other news, we had a fellow get in an argument with someone else and decide to drive past his house and shoot it up with an SKS rifle. Apparently this fellow was quite full of machismo, loudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen how he was the “baddest guy in the county” and could have anyone he wanted killed. He also had a habit of waving a pistol at anyone who looked sideways at him. Needless to say, all this earned him an arrest warrant with a no-knock provision- in other words, due to the higher risk in serving the warrant, we are allowed to enter without knocking in order to take the person by surprise. The tactical team served the warrant and the self-proclaimed baddest guy in the county was arrested in his underwear about 5 seconds after his door was knocked in with a ram. Guess he wasn’t as bad as he thought. Anyway, his mother, whose house it was, sought me out (as the team leader) and demanded to know who was going to pay for the damage to her door.

Umm, gee, ma, how about…. your SON? You know, the one who shot at a house full of people with a semi-auto rifle? The reason we were there in the first place? Maybe you need to think about telling him to find another place to live so your door doesn’t get knocked in again the next time we have to arrest him? Because if you think I’m going to politely knock and meekly wait outside while your son loads his guns, you’re quite wrong.

Argh. People.