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Listen up, SEIU: This is a Peaceful Protest

New York Mayor Bill De Blasio (née Warren Wilhelm) insisted on making a campaign stump speech at a funeral attended by thousands of cops from the NYPD and elsewhere. NYPD officers were threatened by their superiors not to answer DeBlasio’s disrespect with their own, but when the politician began to speak, the police turned as one, offering their backs to the cop-hating mayor in the latest showing of raw disrespect. The only NYPD officers who didn’t turn their backs were the most politically-oriented white shirts. Most of the visiting officers from elsewhere joined in. Here’s how it looked from the photographer’s gallery under the dais, and therefore pretty close to what it must have looked like to De Blasio.

cops turn backs 3


When De Blasio was done campaigning, they turned back.

Lesson: when you hate people, they hate you back.

Friday, a coalition of serving and retired police celebrated the good weather by hiring Jersey Shore Aerial Advertising for a banner flight. Warned by the NYPD Aviation Unit that De Blasio would have them intercept and divert the flight if he knew, the banner was prepared in secrecy and had completed its five circuits of the Hudson and East Rivers before De Blasio’s flacks could attempt to suppress its message:

de blasio protest banner

We hear he still hasn’t got his must-be-black head of his PSD, either.

For those of you who may be members of the SEIU and unfamiliar with the concept, this is what an effective and truly peaceful protest looks like.


While De Blasio attended the Ramos funeral, 1,000 of his core supporters, led by organizers from the SEIU and International ANSWER, rallied to — we are not making this up — celebrate the deaths of the two “pigs.”

They weren’t the only ones trying to make hay off the incident. Shannon what’s-her-face, the Democrat Party anti-gun PR dolly whose kids call their nanny “Mom,” said Ismail Brinsley’s cop murder really was caused by his gun leading him astray. Suuuure.

Meanwhile, other people, especially New Yorkers, reacted… differently. The 9/11 Tunnel to Towers Foundation, one of the rare charities that actually does charitable stuff with its funds instead of spending it all raising more money, has pledged to pay off the home mortgages of Officers Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos. The Foundation can’t lift the yoke of tragedy off those families, but they can ease their financial worries. Well done.

A Note to Hollywood

There's nothing in the scope for today, dammit.

There’s nothing in the scope for today, dammit.

Dear Hollywood Producer and Money Power Types:

Shalom! (Mel says you’re all Jewish, so we want to start off on the right foot and all that).

Please, if you’re going to run mountains of advertisements for a movie (like, say, American Sniper, just for an example), don’t lie to your would-be customers (like, say, Kid) but putting a release date (25 December) that’s only the release date for two theaters in Turkmenistan or someplace as a way to manipulate the Oscar voters. The real release date is 16 January, and we are stuck having to replan a day around a disappointed Kid (who can’t get onto the PlayStation Network, either).

Speaking of which, New Zealand entrepreneur Kim Dotcom (née Schmitz, IIRC), reportedly paid a ransom to the lizard-boy hackers, but either they didn’t stop attacking, or they just ripped Dotcom off. (Usually, it’s the FBI doing that). But we digress.

We realize that we out here east of the East Coast and therefore not even in Flyover Country (unless you’re on a Great Circle route, say, from New York to Cannes) don’t come up much in the calculations of Hollywood potentates, but you are expecting us to give you money.

Would it kill you to say: “Release date 25 Dec 14, but that’s a fiction to bamboozle the Oscar voters, so chill out ’til 16 Jan 15?” Would it?

And, to digress again, how in the name of Niffelheim do you trust those folks to vote for the Oscar winners? We’ve seen who they vote for in House and Senate races; they’re not exactly illustrating good judgment, unless they’re in the early stages in which it’s won from bad experience consequent to bad judgment.

Ah well, no American Sniper around here. We guess we’ll watch The Interview instead on the tube. Gotta love a bunch of people who take a break from “speaking Truth to Power” to grovel to North Korea, whose GDP is some small fraction of what Sony has lost on the PlayStation outage. You’ll never see them bash anyplace they actually want to sell their stuff… except America.

Kol tuv, for now, Hollywood.

Small Town Police Work (aka From the Blotter)

mayberrydoordecalBefore you think your career in law enforcement will be like DragnetAdam-12, CHiPs, or maybe The Wire, you should spend some time talking to local cops. However, when they hear you dream of being a cop, they will tell you tall tales (when the outburst of laughter ends).

So a way to, as we used to say in the Army, “G2 the Course” a little bit, it’s hard to beat the local blotter, which is probably published in your local paper, to see what cops really do.

In our little part of the globe, it’s a lot more Mayberry than SWAT.

Little Town Blotter

Nov. 26.
11:33 a.m.: Investigated a past-tense burglary at the Rye Parsonage.
5:40 p.m.: Responded to Sagamore Road for a minor crash, no injuries.
10:56 p.m.: Responded to Pioneer Road for a minor crash, no injuries.
11:40 p.m.: Arrested a 16-year-old on the charges of conduct after an accident, reckless operation, possession of drugs in a motor vehicle and possession and use of tobacco products by a minor.
Nov. 27
6:15 p.m.: Responded to Washington Road, at Lang Road for a minor crash.
11:29 p.m.: Responded to Love Lane for a tree down in the road.
Nov. 28
3:09 a.m.: Assisted the Fire Department on Carbee Drive.
10:40 p.m.: Arrested Amber R. Sunday, 24, 198 Main St., No. 2, Epping, on a bench warrant and on the charges of driving after revocation or suspension and speeding.
Nov. 29
2:25 p.m.: Responded to Grove Road for wires down.
3:47 p.m.: Assisted the Fire Department on Washington Road.
9:10 pm.: Checked the area of Perkins Road and Central Road for a report of shots fired. Nothing was found.

Big City (pop. 28k) Blotter

Dec. 12.
6:44 a.m.: Investigated a report of criminal mischief on Ladd Street.
7:15 a.m.: Responded to Market Square for a report of solicitation. The person was moved on.

10:28 p.m.: Caller reports the theft of two packages delivered by UPS to to a Coakley Road residence.
10:38 p.m.: Took a report of harrassment from a resident of Rockland Street.

Across the River in Maine Blotter

Dec. 2.
12:45 p.m.: A resident of Beech Ridge Road reported someone hacked into her email and hijacked her accounts.
3:18 p.m.: Resident of Cider Hill Road reports a weathervane on her roof that has been there for 50 years had been stolen.
9:25 p.m.: Caller reported that he left his phone at the Union Bluff and wanted to know the best way to get it back.
9:41 p.m.: Driver warned for operating one way in the wrong direction on the Spur Road.

Dec. 4.
3:17 p.m.: Large male cat, gray with white chest and paws, reported missing from Eldridge Road.
8:18 p.m.: Minor driver stopped on Long Beach Avenue and warned for expired registration, speeding, operating with suspended registration. Officer told her to have her parents call him when she gets home.

Dec. 5.
12:34 a.m.: Following a motor vehicle stop on Route 1, Eric Ferrand, 29, 801 Route 1, York, was summonsed on charges of violating conditions of release and operating while license is suspended or revoked.
6:12 a.m.: Police fielded a call, the fourth that week, from a woman who said people are creating rumors about her. An officer is working on the case and has contacted adult protective services.

As you see, there’s crime, but it’s small-time. (The stolen weathervane, for example, has already been converted into cash, and then drugs. If it was brass or bronze, an unscrupulous metal dealer — is there any other kind? — bought it).

There’s a lot more of the vague complaints of harassment, neighbor boundary disputes, and things like the last sample in the Maine department, mentally ill people wasting cops’ time.

The Maine department also found a cat, but it was apparently not the one reported absent by another family — it was found in a barn and taken to a shelter.

Kid Calls for Nuking Norks

BLOWING UP PARADISESome of you may recall our occasional references to Kid, a 15-year-old who’s actually an Ex’s spawn, but is a pretty good kid and partner in gun tinkering. Like many such yoot’s, he’s a devotee of video gaming, and his Christmas list included stuff like a controller and the latest version of the Call of Duty series, called Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare.

So, today, Christmas Day (when we were not going to post, honest), he’s fulminating against the Norks, whom he blames for the PlayStation Network being down.

Online game networks Xbox Live and PlayStation Network have been offline much of Christmas Day in an apparent DDos (distributed denial of service) attack.

Taking credit for the takedown: a group called Lizard Squad, which previously claimed credit for August attacks on the PlayStation Network and online games World of Warcraft and League of Legends.

The network status Web pages for Xbox Live and PSN both list the networks as offline.

It caps off a rough holiday season for Sony, which saw its Sony Pictures subsidiary hit by a cyber-attack last month over the upcoming release of The Interview. A hacker group called the Guardians of Peace threatened a 9/11 type attack on theaters if the movie was shown.

via PlayStation Network, Xbox Live offline due to attacks.

kim-jong-il-team-america_crNow, the Norks have no love for Sony, makers of Kid’s PS4, but one wonders if the Norks have the capability to pull off even a script-kiddie’s level of Distributed Denial of Service attack. In a DDOS attack, zombie PCs controlled sub rosa by a malicious master are formed into a botnet and each machine makes numerous attempts to connect to the target servers, overwhelming them regardless of firewalls or load-balancing measures. Botnets are hired out for money by the criminal organizations that build or acquire them, and others are used by national-level intelligence and security assets.

They can be used for money-making either indirectly (for instance, a botnet master may have shorted Sony or Microsoft stock before attacking the PSN or the XBox network. If so, it was dumb to do it on a day with the markets closed) or directly (extortion: “nice network you got here, guy, be a shame if…”). Or they can be done out of pure malice, either the kind that characterizes North Korea’s primitive monarchy, or the kind that animates the sort of teenagers who once pulled wings off flies.

There are numerous countermeasures available to the server managers, some of which the botnet managers have counter-countermeasures for. For example, there is always some characteristic of bot traffic that is different from legitimate traffic, and these characteristics can be used both to harden servers, and to track perpetrators.

In the USA, folks who do this and get caught get long breaks from computer access, not to mention everything else you can’t do while locked up in Federal prison.

Meanwhile, there’s a least one Kid who has a good grounding in building real guns that’s really, really perturbed at whoever’s messing with his ability to wring out the new capabilities of Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare, like an exoskeleton that lets the game-player make prodigious jumps.

And if it isn’t the Norks, it’s not like anybody’s going to miss them, is it?

The Christmas Gun

winchester christmas“He wants a whaaat?” Mr Eliot said. Mr Eliot’s family had been in town since shortly after they filed off the Mayflower, but despite that had befriended the new family in town, even though they were suspiciously ethnic, and even, it must be said, Catholic.

But Mr Eliot prided himself on his ability to rise above the prejudices of his class and station, despite the fact that Mrs Eliot (who went to Wellesley, a fact that came up, fortuitously, sooner or later in each of her conversations) clung to hers. And that Kennedy fellow didn’t deliver us whole into the hands of the Pope, after all, did he? So one could invite Catholics to one’s Christmas Party, as long as they were the Right Sort. Just like one invited Dr Fischer, because “breeding” is a matter that’s not as related to bloodline as one might think.

“For Christmas. Extraordinary,” Mr Eliot continued, without giving the Right Sort of Catholic any chance to reply to his question — which was really an exclamation of surprise.

“Well, that was once something that was done,” he explained, “but nowadays, we’re suburban, not rural. A gun! Where would he use it?”

“His uncle has taken him shooting at the gravel pit, and of course there’s the municipal range in Big City,” the RSoC replied.

“I mean, it’s not like this is the wild west, you know,” Eliot said. “It’s not…” and one could almost see the steam coming from his ears as he cogitated about the geography of Indian Territory, which began somewhere along the Worcester — Paterson — Frederick line, and continued unbroken to Salinas and Bakersfield. “It’s not Wyoming.

“Well, that’s what he wants. A .22 rifle. I suppose I can get it at Sears.”

Mrs Eliot could hold her tongue no more.

“Guns! They’re nothing but trouble. Murders, and robberies, and killings, and assassinations, all because of guns.”

“Mother, please — ”

(If it seems peculiar to you to call your wife Mother, we bet you didn’t come on the Mayflower. The rich are not like us, at least not the anciens riches).

“Surely, sir, you don’t like guns.” Her automatic volume control had apparently failed, and the others at the party all stopped their own conversations to look.

“Well, I don’t, particularly, but my son has asked for…”

“Well, you can’t just give him what he wants. You have a responsibility to uplift him. A gun will set him on the wrong track. It will change him. It will make of him a slayer of cats and birds, and a smasher of telephone-line insulators, and — ”

She didn’t stop, but people seemed to tune her out. Both Mr Eliot and his guest looked dismayed, and the host gave his guest an apologetic look and led his still-fulminating wife off to the side.

“It will change him!” she repeated in a near shout, over her shoulder. “It will change him forever.”

It took some time, but the susurrus of neighbors exchanging pleasantries and enjoying the holiday season gradually filled the room again. The host couple were still having a heated discussion, but everyone was trying to avoid being seen ignoring them too obviously.

The guest who precipitated the whole thing was, fairly or not, in a similar bubble of social invisibility for a time. Indeed, he was calculating whether enough of a decent interval had passed as to allow him to leave, when another guest approached him. The man was unknown to him, but he was dressed in chinos and a tweed sportcoat, one that did not come off the rack fitting him like it did. He was clean-shaven with Brylcreemed salt-and-pepper hair. He looked distinguished, and something about him seemed… trustworthy. Solid.

“So your kid wants a gun.”

The man nodded glumly. This was supposed to be a Christmas party — not an interrogation. He wanted to change the subject, but as the new guy, he didn’t dare. His wife, at least, seemed to be having a good time.

“Well, I’m a bit of a hunter.” It was a small understatement — the man had bagged the Big Five, which neither Mr Eliot nor the other guest had ever heard of, and he wasn’t the sort of man to boast about it, anyway. If you came to his home, his trophies would do the talking. “Does he know what kind of gun he wants?”

The man was relieved. This wasn’t an extension of the Two Minutes’ Hate.

“I don’t know. He showed me an ad for something called a Ruger. I couldn’t find it at Sears.”

“The Ruger 10/22. Not what I’d give a kid for his first gun — I’d start him with a bolt action or even a single-shot, if it was me, but today’s kids don’t have the patience we did. And I’ll tell you what — don’t go to Sears. Sears is great for a box of shells, but let me give you some advice.” The distinguished man drew out a very slender billfold and slipped a business card over, turning it over before the father could see what it said, and wrote in precise, careful block letters.

“Go to this place. You’ve probably seen it on Route 9. See this guy and tell him I sent you. Tell him what you want it for, and he’ll steer you right. And you might pay $2 more than you would at Sears, but you’ll know it’ll be the right gift for your boy, and if that’s not worth $2, what is?”

The guest murmured his thanks. On the card was written

The Gun Room
Peter Dowd
Tell him I sent you!

The man smiled, and caught someone’s eye across the room, and then he was gone.

At this time, Mr Eliot came back.

“Sorry about that. She gets like this sometimes. What did the Judge have to say?”

Judge! He didn’t say he was a judge. He probably thought I knew him. “I think he just gave me a very valuable tip,” the man said.

He turned over the card.

Hon. Elbridge G. Pickerell
Judge, Superior Court
Col, USAR (Ret.).

As it happened, the guest’s wife was having such a good time they stayed at the party another hour and a half, taking care not to be the first nor one of the last to leave. At some point, Mrs Eliot apologized to him, very graciously, and he tried to be half as gracious in his response. And they were, indeed, invited back, where for years he’d enjoy, among other things, the judge’s stories of African safaris and amusing occurrences in courtrooms military and civil (if anything happened of greater consequence that a good laugh in his courtroom, Judge Pickerell certainly never told the story).

And a teenage boy had what he called, “The Best Christmas! Ever!” a few days after that.

He never did commit the “murders, and robberies, and killings, and assassinations!” that so concerned Mrs Eliot, but she was right about one thing.

It did change him. Forever.


Merry Christmas from our family to yours.



This post has been edited. Some lines inadvertently deleted from the description of Judge Pickerell’s hunting career have been restored, and one typo has been fixed. We regret the error. –Ed.

Er, another typo has been fixed. Keep those cards and letters coming, fans. –Ed.

A Christmas Layoff to Celebrate: New York Times

New York TimesThis delightful Schadenfreude-activator is an excerpt from a thumbsucker at the New York Observer, about the 10,000 lb. gorilla of city journalism, the New York Times. The NYO is upset that the NYT is downsizing again, terminating such vital personnel as the “advertising writer,” by which they mean someone who writes about advertising, not someone who writes advertising and thereby fulfills some economic function.

Aw… you’re breakin’ our heart. (Cue Harry Nilsson).

Monday, December 1 marked the deadline for 100 New York Times journalists to accept a buyout package before facing layoffs. As the New York Times prepares for the latest culling of the most talent-rich newsroom in America, the sad march has already begun. David Corcoran, a Times near-lifer who runs the beloved Science Times section, has reportedly accepted a buyout, as have legendary business reporters Floyd Norris and Bill Carter, labor reporter Steven Greenhouse, arts reporter Carol Vogel, staff editor Jack Bell, plus at least six photographers and picture editors, the silky writer Robin Finn, and about 50 others, according to Capital New York’s depressing “buyout watch” column. The Observer reported that longtime advertising writer Stuart Elliott was among those joining the exodus. And now, firings have commenced.

Oh dear, the herd of fabulists, prevaricators, fabricators and four-flushers in Munchhausen Hall has been thinned. Alas and alack. We are sorely aggrieved.


Unfortunately, newspaper reporters heading for the exits is not news these days.

Unfortunately? For them, perps. For us? Well, one man’s ill fortune may be another’s delight.

What’s different this time, however, is the degree to which Times stakeholders, including current employees, exiting employees, and former employees have had it with business side decisions, including one in particular that’s costing enough to keep more than a dozen journalists gainfully employed.

We've actually celebrated this layoff before. Again? Why not, it's still good news!

We’ve actually celebrated this layoff before. Again? Why not, we celebrated Christmas last year and we’re planning to do it again this year. Good news is still good news!

The beef the journos have is with the number of no-show and low-show no-effort million-dollar (some, multi-million-dollar) sinecures for various inbred cousins of the Sulzberger extended family. It is a bit unseemly to see overpaid writers squabbling with overpaid executives about a zero-sum division of the filthy loot they’re always pretending to be above caring for. For definitions of the word “unseemly” that are synonymous with “hilarious.”

And, of course, all these inbred Ivy hothouse flowers think they’re “the voice of the little man” who fearlessly “speak truth to power,” when most of them wouldn’t recognize the “little man” as the delivery driver they just stiffed on a tip, and their ideas of “speaking truth” never involve any form of speaking it to someone who has power over them. 

There’s some history here. Earlier this year, the Observer ran a front-page story about severe dissatisfaction within the New York Times directed at the Times‘ opinion page. The reaction was instantaneous and over-the-top, becoming one of the Observer’s best-read stories of the year and generating thousands of shares on social media. Not everyone was thrilled; Times executive editor Jill Abramson called the piece a “crazy rant.” Despite her loyalty, three months later, on May 14, Ms. Abramson was fired—unceremoniously dumped without even the chance to say goodbye that had been granted to previously departing editors, from the sacked Howell Raines to the sainted Bill Keller.

Do go Read the Whole Thing™. It would take a heart of stone not to laugh to the brink of incontinence.

Meanwhile, the 100 latest unemployed New York Times journalists await your suggestions for new careers, which we invite you to offer them in the comments.

A Dystopian Christmas Story

A rather creepy vision of the future, from science-fiction authoress Sarah Hoyt.

The pounding on the doors, the words, “Open up in the name of the law.”

Juan Johnson who had been lying in the dark, in his little bed at the back of the house, half asleep, retained only a sense of explosions, a smell of something burning, papa up front saying he didn’t know anything of these Usaians and besides, he was a honest carpenter and what could they—

And mama! Mama, who had never left dad alone in any difficulty, Mama who rarely left the house without him and never at night, had gotten Juan and Angelita out of their beds, in the dark, wrapping the baby and putting her in a sling, and dressing Juan, fast, so fast that she’d put a sock of each different color on his feet.

This still bothered him, as they ran down the alley in the night, and then up another alley, all staying away from the police.

Juan could hear other pounding and “Open up—”

And fragments of other sentences, too, “Forbidden,” and “Dangerous elements” and “Seditious ideology.”

Juan knew what “dangerous elements” were. He was only ten, but Mama and Papa had taught him at home and he’d been allowed to read a lot of dad’s old books, the sort of thing they no longer taught in the school. Dangerous elements were things like Uranium and other things that gave off radiation that could kill you. Why the police would be looking for it, he didn’t know.

He did not however have any idea what Seditious ideology meant.

The long history of dystopian fiction tells us that authors usually take some trend they don’t like in the society of the day and make a linear projection into a bleak, black, dismal future. Their intent can be didactic (in which case the art usually suffers) or artistic (in which case the tale is much more readable, but if the author has a message it still comes across, just less bitterly). This story is the second kind, we think. Go thither and Read The Whole Thing™.

When guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have knives

bloody-knifeIn Australia, many (but not all) guns are outlawed, but that didn’t stop their answer to Octomom from wiping out her 7-child brood, plus an extra kid.

She used knives.

An Australian woman was arrested for murder in the killings of eight children, seven of whom are believed to be her own, police said Saturday. The children were found dead inside the woman’s home in the Cairns suburb of Manoora.

The 37-year-old woman is recovering in a hospital from stab wounds herself.

Queensland police haven’t said how the children died but are examining knives in the home that may have been the weapon used to kill them. The children ranged in age from 18 months to 14 years.

“We’re not looking for anybody else – we’re comfortable that the community at large is safe,” said Queensland Police Detective Inspector Bruno Asnicar.

via 8 children found dead in Australian home.

Crime is not caused by weapons. Knives like this are in our house, and in yours, but our children are safe. Crime is caused in the human mind, human heart, and human soul. What tools human hands take up to implement those crimes of the mind, heart and soul are not material to any possible solutions to crime.

They’re distractions, or deodands, or dead ends.

When guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have bleach

Charles Cortright Mugshot“Things that one ought not to do” is a very long list, and one most of us don’t dwell on overmuch, because it would never occur to us to do something like this:

Charles S. Cortright III, 46, now of Westbrook, pleaded guilty to domestic violence assault with a dangerous weapon (the bleach), reckless conduct and two counts each of assault and criminal mischief.

He was sentenced to three years in jail, with all but 160 days suspended, and two years’ probation and was fined $600.

At the time of the offense, police said they went on March 11, 2013 to Pine View Estates on Capitol Street in Augusta, where they found a [60-year-old] woman doused with bleach as well as a 56-year-old man who apparently had been punched by Cortright.

How did she let him do it? He pretended to be a cop, and she opened the door to him.

They said Cortright and the woman had argued earlier that night and then Cortright left. When he returned shortly afterward, he knocked on the woman’s apartment door and identified himself as a police officer in order to get her to open it so he could heave bleach into her face, police said.

via Westbrook man pleads guilty in bleach attack – The Portland Press Herald / Maine Sunday Telegram.

You gotta wonder what Charles S. Cortrights Numbers I and II would think of this.

He’s already out, on receipt of sentence, because he had spent the entire sentence in pretrial confinement already, unable to make bail. A condition of his release is that he receive mental health counseling or treatment. They should also make him do without whiter whites and brighter colors.

Some guys just can’t be trusted with a bottle of Clorox.

The [Criminal] was a…

Here’s a few stories of people indulging in behavior not normally associated with their professions.

The Shoplifter was a Lawyer

Sandra LM Gosser's December Shoplifting Mugshot

Sandra LM Gosser’s December Shoplifting Mugshot

Look, crooked lawyers are basically a stereotype, but usually not this kind of crooked. We’ve heard that the lawyer glut was having an effect on their finances, but this is ridiculous.

Sandra Gosser, 45, of 260 Marcy St., was most recently arrested on Dec. 15 at 4:34 p.m. when staff at the Woodbury Avenue Market Basket reported she was being detained for theft, according to the public police log. Police Sgt. Kuffer Kaltenborn said that when officers arrived, they were told that Gosser had attempted to steal a rib roast, avocados and pet food by concealing them in a bag and leaving without paying.
Following her arrest, Gosser was released on personal recognizance bail and she is under a court order to stay away from Market Basket, according to police.
Last month Gosser was arrested by Rye police on a misdemeanor count of theft that alleges she stole a pair of $348 boots. According to a complaint by Rye Police Corporal Mark Webster, Gosser stole a pair of brown Frye boots from Christine’s Crossing on Washington Road by placing them inside a bag she was carrying.

via Lawyer arrested second time for theft – News – – Portsmouth, NH.

Sandra LM Gosser's November mugshot.

Sandra LM Gosser’s November mugshot.

You know that there’s going to be an interesting article when they ID the perp as a lawyer in the headline, and then in one of the early grafs they talk about her “most recent arrest.” Here’s the previous one (she looks a little more together in this mugshot). This one-woman crime wave advertises herself as a general practice attorney. (What? She looks more like a criminal lawyer to us. ‘Cause nothing says “officer of the court” like your own rap sheet).

But it gets better — according to her LinkedIn, she was a cum laude grad of Tulane Law (Ranked 46th) and an bachelor’s grad of Vassar (US News #11 liberal arts college).

One can’t help but wonder how someone starts off at a near-top-ten undergrad and a tail-end-of-top-tier law school and winds up shoplifting clothing and groceries within a couple decades of graduation.

One also wonders what other disasters and calamities reign in Ms Gosser’s life these days.

Supposedly there are moral turpitude requirements for lawyers, but they’re either never enforced, or they run backwards from how non-lawyers define the term.

The Gunrunner was a Cop

Tyler kinney

Tyler Kinney in happier times.

According to ATF and court documents, Detective Corporal Tyler Kinney of Colchester, VT, supplied “a Smith and Wesson .38 caliber Airweight revolver, serial number DCE9574,” to a friend (boyfriend?), Pete Burnett, who happened to be a convicted felon with a 30-entry rap sheet. The gun was stolen from the police department’s evidence room; it had been seized in an investigation.

KINNEY stated that he had used opiates for approximately a year, and was attempting to recover from opiate addiction. He met Burnett in his official capacity
as a CPD Detective, and a friendship developed between the two. KINNEY said that for about a year he and Burnett had used heroin together, obtaining it in several ways.

They got the heroin from the evidence locker, or when the evidence locker had no heroin to steal, by stealing other drugs and swapping them for heroin. Kinney had responsibility for the evidence locker. God knows how many cases he’s screwed up, now.

This is causing some ructions in Vermont law enforcement circles. The ATF and FBI agents who investigated the case are outraged, and want to see Kinney hung by his thumbs, or as near an approximation as American jurisprudence can accomplish. The Chief of the Colchester department says it’s “the darkest day in CPD’s history” and she has “never been so
disappointed,” but Kinney’s not fired yet, just suspended (albeit without pay). The Governor has been careful not to criticize the cop, it’s all the addiction’s fault. “It’s a terrible, terrible disease.”

The Other Gunrunner Was Another Cop

He looks a little like a younger, fitter SF/Ranger phony John Giduck, but this is John Nyunt.

He looks a little like a younger, fitter version of notorious SF/Ranger phony John Giduck, but this is John Nyunt.

Hey, didn’t we just have this story? This one’s a different cop and a different fact set, but it still comes back to stealing cop guns. About as far away from Colchester, Vermont as you can go and not hit the cold Pacific, Pacific Grove, CA Police Commander John Nyunt was committing similar crimes on the Monterey Peninsula — although his motivation was greed, not addiction.

Nyunt stole a large quantity of firearms from a closing police academy, and sold them off. He did sell them through an FFL, which increases the likelihood that the stolen property can be recovered, and makes it much less likely they’ll wind up in felons’ hands.

Nyunt’s life has been collapsing for months now, as he was already jammed up over having a worker in his side private investigator business use bogus credentials to access cop databases.

Hat tip,, which has the charging documents from both cases..