Thursday, July 23, 2015

"When an Open Relationship Comes at a Price"

Credit: Brian Rea
"During college, I spent a few wonderful evenings making out with a longhaired poet. I spent a few weeks messing around with a gentle, funny religion student. I even briefly, if accidentally, dated a high school student (since when do 17-year-olds have beards?).

"This is what you do in college. No longer tethered to childhood routines and unburdened by the judgments and prejudices of people who know you best, you explore and experiment, sampling new ideologies, new points of view. New people.

"So I sampled, freely and happily. But my situation was different from most: I also had a serious boyfriend at the time. Serious, as in we lived together. We owned two cats together. I wasn’t breaking any rules, however. We had an open relationship.

"It was a complete disaster.

"My boyfriend and I met in Introduction to Philosophy. He was dark-haired, charming and endearingly weird, one of those passionate, articulate boys who live life in superlatives. The music he listened to was the best of all possible music. The books he read stood at the pinnacle of literature. He himself was going to be the greatest philosopher of his generation.

"I know, I know. But I was only 18! I was, and still am, a sucker for a quick wit, a raucous laugh and a big brain. Moreover, my boyfriend was generous with his grand convictions: The people he surrounded himself with were destined for greatness, too. Loved by him, I felt swathed in glory.

"Inseparable from the start, he and I explored the new world of our university together, attending readings, plays and concerts. We ate pie and sushi. We drank gin and lemonade. I spent the summer in his hometown, falling under the spell of his courtly father and gracious mother. Back on campus in the fall, he and I moved in together, filling a ramshackle apartment with music posters and thrift-store furniture.

"Cue the cats. Cue domesticity.

"Or rather, don’t. My boyfriend was committed to living his life according to strict intellectual principles, and for him, personal freedom was paramount. Love could not require constraint, foreclosure or deprivation. He argued that even though we planned a future together, we should always permit each other to do as we pleased, including dating other people.

"Whoa, sorry, what? I was from a small town in Illinois. My idea of romance was as conventional as could be, involving me and my boyfriend “sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” First comes love, then comes marriage, and so on.

"Or was there? I wasn’t on the playground anymore. I was supposed to be exploring, experimenting, sampling new perspectives. I wasn’t a philosopher like my boyfriend, but I was studying English literature, including Percy Bysshe Shelley.

"As he wrote: 'True Love in this differs from gold and clay, / That to divide is not to take away.'
Shelley railed against the prevailing morality that demanded lovers marry and be monogamous, and so travel 'the broad highway of the world … / With one chained friend.'

"One chained friend. Sounds like fun.

"I had no wish to shackle anyone to me, especially not the person I loved best. I didn’t want to concede — by being possessive, by demanding fidelity — that my love was anything less than capital-T True. If an open relationship was necessary to prove how well I loved my boyfriend, I was happy to comply.

"Thus we were off on our grand romantic adventure."

Read more:

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

We were all damaged.

We were all damaged.  That’s what drew us together.  We were 14, 15, and 16-years-old.  Each of us had an abusive father who was either an alocholic or just a mean drunk.  We saw each others families.  We knew each others secrets.  We never spoke of them.  We didn’t know how to.

We didn’t have an official name like the High Street Gang.  We were the neighborhood juvenile delinquents.  There were three brothers from one family, two from another, two more from another, and me.  That was the core.  Other kids came and went.  I guess that’s normal.  I ran with the High Street Gang for a short while, but came back to my friends.

We all smoked cigarettes and that was what we mostly did when we got together.  We weren’t allowed to smoke anywhere openly.  We hung out in Lakeview Park or at the Zoo, smoked, and talked tough.  Stealing cigarettes was one of our primary activities.

A couple of the brothers got so good at shoplifting that they started taking orders at school.  You told them what you wanted, they stole it and then sold it to you for half the retail price.  Pants were the most popular item.  I shoplifted, too, but I was nothing like those guys.  I’d steal a pack of cigarettes.  They’d steal a carton.

Cologne was another popular item.  We stole that for ourselves, too.  Whenever we went to a dance or the movies or a basketball game or any other activities where girls might be present, we drowned ourselves in cologne or after shave.  I guess we thought that made us more adult.  Three or four of us together would create quite the aroma.

01/26/2014  ©

I told my psychiatrist...

Monday, July 20, 2015

"Henry Fords Hemp Car in 1941"


"Henry Ford back in 1941 produced a car with body panels made from hemp, and biodegradable  internal parts made from hemp plastic. In the video to the right you can see footage of this video, how a sledge hammer could be used on the panels and not to leave a mark. The panels were said to be lighter than steel and 10 times stronger. Henry Ford probably developed the car as a response to the US governments encouragement to grow hemp in their 'Hemp For Victory' campaign. What Henry Ford was not aware of is that after the war had finished the US government would then ban hemp again, destroying any possibility that the hemp car could reach the mass market. This was not the first time Henry Fords efforts to produce 'green' cars was halted. The Model T was designed to run on ethanol produced from agricultural materials, in fact at one point 25% of the fuel market for the car was provided for by ethanol. However prohibition become law (a bill which was funded by John D. Rockefeller 'Standard Oil'). This made fuel ethanol also illegal. Henry Ford continued to produce cars which could run on ethanol for many more years, however eventually gave up. One year after the last Ford was produced which could run on ethanol, prohibition ended. Now the reasons I like to share this information is to demonstrate how the uses of Hemp have been proven many times, yet today we still cannot fully utilize this crop. Miscanthus, Switchgrass and other biomass energy crops all produce burnable fuel pellets, but they all fall short of hemp on a sustainability basis and a fuel quality basis. In our small scale pellet plants we can process whole hemp or the shiv. Shiv is the woody core of the plant which is left over after the fibers have been removed for other products. The material is reduced in size through a hammer mill and then these particles are metered into the pellet press. Under high heat and pressure in the pellet mill a hemp pellet is formed."

Friday, July 17, 2015

Internal Combustion

          It was a lie.  The movies.  A lie.  The car did not blow up.  It did not explode five feet into the air.  After the can of gasoline, after the lit book of matches, it went whoomp, a dull thump, and the Grand Am was on fire.  Orange blue flames burning above the broken rear window, buzzing on the roofline.  Churning swirls of oily soot.  Black flowers unfolded upon a pale afternoon sky.  The little girl sitting on the fire hydrant across the street was running now, running away down the street.  I realized I had to leave, too.  Time to go.  The sirens already were in the distance.  Go.  It belched.  Another thump.  The windshield, I think, plopped out.  Time to go.  Stop watching it burn.  Go!  I got into my Chevy.  It was running.  I don’t remember doing that, leaving it running.  Like a dream, really, like they say, a dream.  No panic or fear.  Just a clicking along.  Just a ticking away.  I drove around some blocks, around and around.  Up and down.  And then, finally, back to the Grand Am, where firemen were dousing it with water, not foam.  Another movie lie.  Water, nothing else.  I cruised by.  Almost, “Hi guys, how’s it goin’?”  But no, just drive and gawk a little.  Then home.  Home to hide.  Home to oblivion.

          It was Saturday. 
          Mike tells me, “Long Legs, I got something for you, some information, something you wanna know.” 
          Saturday, the busiest day of the week.  Saturday, when it is on all day long.  The customers, the phones, the noise, the heat.  The cars going up and down on the lifts like giant carousel rides.  Saturday, when I am always sick.         
          Mike says, “Listen, I know who broke in, I know who hit the shop.  Just some young punks sitting around smoking dope.” 
          My head hurt. 
          Mike says, “Idiots with nothing better to do than drive a goddamn car into the fire door.” 
          Christ, they drove into the wall.  A few cinder blocks gave way and they crawled into the shop. 
          Mike says, “Not too bright, huh?” 
          The alarm system never went off, the motion detectors detected nothing, the police did not give a damn.  They do not care about some two-bit break-in; they do not give a damn. 
          Mike says, “Playboy told me these dumb shits sit around drinking and brag.  They’re too stupid to keep their mouths shut.” 
          Not a thing really worth anything stolen.  A small TV, a few junk tools, some chemicals.  Not a thing.  That was not the point.  That was not it. 
          Mike says, “Their car is parked next door.” 
          Jesus.  It was on the street next to the shop.  An old Pontiac.  Rusted, cancerous.  Sitting right there. 
          Mike says, “They were trying to get into a gang.  Trying to prove themselves.  Kings, I think, or Lovers.  Who knows?” 
          I stared at the car.  The phones ringing, the impact guns going off, the clerk yelling for me, I stared at it, sweating.

          “. . . because it’s Saturday night.  That’s some damn excuse: ‘It’s Saturday night.’”
          She was talking.  I snapped to.  The music was very loud.  Who was it?  It was Saturday night.  Or Sunday morning.  Our living room.  Hendrix. 
          “You don’t care for me, I don’t care about that.”
           She was yelling now. 
          “. . . sick and tired of it!  Do you hear me?  Sick and tired of it!  And sick of all your goddamned talk about the shop!  Why don’t you marry the shop?”
          “I have only one and burning desire.”
          Why didn’t I?  The rhythms of the shop I understood.  The dark grace of machinery, the sheen of stainless steel, air compressors rattling, hiss of torches, even the smell of grease, all of it was natural to me, compatible.  In my element.  God in His heaven, I in mine.
          But this, this . . .
          “Let me stand next to your fire.”
          I lit another one.

          On the porch.  From up here you could see the planes circling O’Hare at night.  Round and round.  Take-offs and landings.  Now it was bright, sunny.  Church bells.  It was too hot.  The clink of cubes.  Like breaking glass.  “Random gunfire,” the police said.  Strafing.  “Disputed turf.”  AAA Board-up Service was first in the phone book, first on the scene.  “They’re not aiming at you.  Your shop just happens to be in the way.”  Cop humor.  Attitudes and threats.  Over and over, attitudes and threats.  Then one day, tag, you’re it.  Bang.  You’re in the way.  A broken window.  Or a hole in the chest.  Used to sit at the corner of Bunky’s bar, watching traffic go by.  Watching the circus parade on Fullerton Avenue.  Then Mike, he says, “Stray bullet through that doorway hits you first.”  Christ.  Eduardo shows up on crutches.  Leg in a cast.  “They caught me in the lot after dark.”  Baseball bats.  Cartilage beaten and snapped, sinew torn, bone chips like broken glass.  Never walk the same.  Over and over.  Watch ‘em rise and fall.  One week Ferman’s the man, his ride getting everything, the works, no questions asked, just fix it, do it, my man, just do it.  Next week Angel has Ferman’s wheels and wants it done his way.  A look into his eyes tells you not to ask.  Just do it, man.  Count the money later.  They always spared the shop, though.  Till now.  Didn’t crap their bed.  We worked the cops’ cars and theirs.  Kept the precinct happy, the Kings happy, the Lovers happy, kept everyone happy while we split the difference.    
          Till now.
          Hot.  Way too hot. 
          I needed some fuel.

          Monday morning she did not look at me.  I avoided the mirror, too.  Very warm very early.  Conducive to paranoia.  Shaky.  I remembered the old Pontiac, the smell of the burning interior.  Did I tell her?  She would know in any case.  Secrets were impossible.  All that remained between us was getting even, keeping score.   And I had lost track.
          Driving, I thought about the precinct’s watch commander.  Irish name.  We exchanged favors once.  Flannigan?  He released our truck and we did a free exhaust system on his Impala.  A bargain.  Our driver had been picked up on warrants.  The $4,000 parts order never would have survived the impound lot.  Brannigan?  Maybe, if I was in trouble, maybe he could help.
          The car’s hulk stood next to the shop.  Blackened.  All the glass gone.  Tires melted, fused with the asphalt.  I was trembling.  Nauseous again.  I felt obligated to walk by and look.  How would an innocent man react?  Who was watching? 
          It was gutted.  Damp.  Stunk.  I walked into the shop.
          The clerk asked, “You see it?”
          “Fuck this neighborhood.”
          He did not suspect.
          Mike saw me.  He followed me into the back room.
          “Can you believe it?” he said.  “Their car is fried.  It’s beautiful!  Beautiful!”
          “Fuck this neighborhood,” I said, looking at the floor.
          “They deserve it, Long Legs, they deserve it!  I’m glad it happened.  This kind of shit will keep them thinking straight.  It’s good for them.  And good for us.”
          I looked up.  His eyebrows were arched, he was smiling.  He beamed at me.  He suspected.
          “It’s not good for anybody,” I said.
          But he did not know.

          The wreck was on the street for days.  No hurry.  The city was glutted with junkers.  Calls to the precinct were referred to the alderman.  Calls to the alderman were referred to the sanitation department.  Calls to sanitation were not answered. 
          Not even vandals disturbed the Grand Am.  It was a leper. 
          Mike made broad hints.  I said nothing. 
          One morning as I arrived, I saw another burned out car.  Across the street from the Grand Am lay a scorched Cutlass.  Deeply dented, partially on the sidewalk, almost folded.  Hit hard before burning.  It was charred and hollow, a dark pool beneath it.  A grotesque brother.
          It was Playboy’s.
          Mike came out of the shop as I got out of my car.  He motioned toward the Oldsmobile.  “Check it out, check it out.”
          “What the hell?” I muttered.
          Mike said, “Angel was here.  Said the Lovers did that.  They figured Playboy did the Poncho.  Payback is a mother.”
          “What?  What are you talking about?”  I felt lightheaded, floating away.
          “The Grand Am belonged to Lovers.  Angel says Playboy is a King.  He’s the one who torched it, so they totaled his car.  Totaled it.”
          I looked from car to car.
          “Uh,” Mike said, “there’s a cop up front for you.”
          Floating away.
          I walked to the front of the shop very slowly.
          Watch Commander Tom Flaherty sat in the lobby.  He nodded as I walked in.  Then he got up and walked out to the sidewalk.  I followed him.  How would this happen?
          In front of the shop, Watch Commander Tom Flaherty brought up the recent fire bombings.  Said they did not bode well for the neighborhood.  An escalation in the turf war.  Things were hot and getting hotter.  He was concerned for the shop’s safety and thought he would drop by.  A friendly warning.  We should keep our eyes open.  The bangers were crazy and dangerous.  We should be careful. 
          And did we have time to check the Impala for a leak?
          “Of course,” I said, “of course.”  I’d be sure to get it up in the air.  Just like in the movies.

Copyright © 1999

Wednesday, July 15, 2015


From Racine Community Media:

Alderman Ray DeHahn makes a motion to simply have the committee keep an eye on the bar, and see if the earlier closing time improved things!!

In October 2007- After being thrown out because of a fight, a patron came back to Kenny’s bar with a gun and shot two persons inside the bar and one person outside the bar. Kenny’s was called before the Licensing Committee on October 22, 2007. The owner told the Licensing Committee he fired three bartenders and promised to be more observant. The report was received and filed by the Licensing Committee and no further action was taken.

In October of 2009 The owners of Kenny’s, Neighborhood Bar were requested to appear before the committee for incidents at their tavern.

On August 6, 2011, at 2:12 a.m., the Police Department responded to a fight inside AND outside of Kenny’s Tavern. Upon arrival, officers saw that the front window of the bar was broken. Several people in the street began throwing punches. Several people ignored commands by officers to stop fighting and were taken into custody at Taser point. 

In all, four people were arrested and eight officers were required to manage the incident. The incident tied up officers for over three hours. The matter was received and filed by the Licensing Committee and no further action was taken.

On August 11, 2012, at approximately 12:30 a.m., multiple gun shots were fired in the direction of Kenny’s. Multiple cars were hit by gunfire and one person was shot in the arm. Witnesses in the bar said they saw and heard “shots flying.” The shooting does not appear on police reports or on the bar’s history report. The incident was never referred to the Licensing Committee.

On May 11, 2013, at 1:00 a.m., the Police Department responded to another shooting at Kenny’s. Upon arrival, officers spoke to bar security and learned that a fight had occurred inside Kenny’s between several patrons. As the bar was emptying, two people fired numerous shots. The Police Department noted that the investigation was ongoing. The Licensing Committee took no action on this incident.

On June 23, 2013, at 1:05 a.m., the Police Department responded to another shooting incident at Kenny’s and found that the suspects fired several rounds at the rear smoking patio area. A patron was struck in the left buttock by a bullet. Despite several shootings in just a few years, on June 30, 2013, Kenny’s Class B liquor license was renewed.

On July 22, 2013 After a string of incidents involving Kenny’s, the Licensing Committee asked the owner to appear before it for an informal meeting on July 22, 2013. One of the committee members said that the conference was intended for information gathering only. The owner of Kenny’s Bar told the Licensing Committee that the bar would voluntarily close at midnight on the weekends in light of recent events. 

The owner told the Licensing Committee that he and his staff also met with the Police Department on June 28 to discuss crime prevention strategies. Police Department Chief Howell requested the Licensing Committee treat the recent shooting at Kenny’s as a homicide. The Licensing Committee asked for a side agreement and ordered Kenny’s to return to the Licensing Committee on August 12, 2013.

On August 12, 2013, Kenny’s was not required to sign a side agreement before the Licensing Committee. In fact, Kenny’s was not even on the Licensing Committee’s agenda. Chief Howell reported to the Licensing Committee that Kenny’s was closing early until things quieted down. Apparently to alleviate any of the Licensing Committee’s apprehension concerning Kenny’s, Chief Howell assured the Licensing Committee that he had spoken to Joey LeGath of the Tavern League.

On June 21st, 2015, Police were called at about 2:29 a.m. on Saturday to the 3700 block of North Main Street for a report of a single-vehicle crash that knocked down a pine tree.

Officers found several bodies lying outside, according to Blade’s criminal complaint, and his ex-girlfriend was screaming: “Help me! I don’t want to die! I can’t breathe! It’s hot!” Police saw her legs dangling inside the passenger compartment of the white Mercury Mountaineer, and her upper body had been thrown through the windshield — where that portion of her body was trapped under the hood in the engine compartment, the complaint states.

The passengers, ages 20, 22, 23, 25, and 25, and Blade had been drinking at Kenny’s bar before the crash and were headed to an after-party, the complaint states.

On June 21st, 2015 A local man was charged Tuesday in the Father’s Day crash on 1:37 a.m. Sunday in the 100 block of Main Street. The fatal crash, located just south of the Main Street Bridge on Main Street left two men dead, with a prosecutor leveling accusations of both speeding and drinking. 

Ramone Campbell was “speeding on Main Street,” Assistant District Attorney Bridget Brave said, asking for the $500,000 cash bond. Campbell was “drunk and killed more than one person on Father’s Day.”

A 19-year-old passenger in the black Ford Explorer that Campbell was driving said they had been drinking at a party Saturday evening, and shared a beer while driving to Kenny’s bar after midnight on Sunday, according to the complaint. The teen said after they left Kenny’s, Campbell was speeding approximately 50 mph to 60 mph on Main Street before he lost control of the sport-utility vehicle and crashed into the oncoming Malibu, the complaint states. The speed limit on Main Street is 25 mph.

In a city due process hearing, the licensee may be represented by counsel and produce witnesses. Testimony at the Licensing Committee due process hearing is under oath, subject to the right of cross-examination, and recorded.

This entire blog is from Racine Community Media, word for word,  I'm not even going to try to grammatically quote it.

The Journal Time's version:

“A patriot must always be ready to defend his country against his government.”

By Thomas Paine,

Because it's beautiful.

Who Listens?

Monday, July 13, 2015


From Racine Community Media:

"Racine Residents will be picking up the tab once again for more lawsuits filed against both current and former City Of Racine police officers and the current police chief Art Howell. City Attorney Rob Weber has made the requests to represent the individuals, with the bill falling to City Of Racine taxpayers.

"The requests will go before the Racine Common Council on July 22nd 7pm at City Hall."

Read more:

How many lawsuits does that make total so far?  We were warned and warned of this, but the people of the city can do little when City Hall is corrupt.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Aloe Blacc - "Ticking Bomb" (Official Lyric Video)

"Feeling disrespected, devalued & dissapointed, Mayor Dickert’s cousin, City Administrator Tom Friedel reluctantly decides to accept a $10k dollar raise and contract extension!"

From Racine Community Media:

"Racine- 'In light of the "financial hardship" that the city used last year to leverage an 8 percent reduction in the compensation of its police officers, we are at a loss as to how such an extraordinary increase can be justified now for an individual who was hired at a lower rate of pay back in (2009),' states Todd Hoover, a criminalist and Racine Police Association president, in the letter.

"'In the eyes of many Racine Police officers, there seems to be an incredible lack of balance in how this city approaches its mission of serving this community and the taxpayers,' Hoover writes in the letter.

"'Dickert’s proposal has caused many Racine Police Association members to seriously question the city’s priorities, and has inspired a great deal of frustration amongst the men and women who risk their lives to keep our community safe.'

"Dickert responded later Thursday regarding the letter, calling its tone ‘unexpected,’ and reaffirming the difficulties the city is facing in retaining its experienced employees.

"'When you cannot increase revenues, it’s difficult to deal with the increasing expenses,' Racine City Administrator Tom Friedel said.

"Friedel & Dickert’s plan for balancing the budget calls for using funding reductions, staff cuts, reserves, cost re-allocations, and $3.1 million garnered from employees contributing more toward their health care and state pensions, all while authorizing and voting for and approving a FAT RAISE for Tom Friedel!"

Read more:

Quicksilver Messenger Service - "Edward, The Mad Shirt Grinder"

Thursday, July 9, 2015

"Mayor John Dickert say’s Roundabout discussions to begin for the intersections of Washington Avenue and Ohio streets, the site of the proposed CVS development."

From Racine Community Media:

"Racine Mayor John Dickert had this to say at a recent city plan commission meeting,

"'The intersections of West Boulevard and Washington Avenue, and Washington Avenue and Ohio Street are on the list for discussion.'

"It’s no secret that Mayor Dickert does not want the CVS development in Racine and has cast a deciding vote of 'no' to the development. Now Dickert says the corner is in discussions over a possible roundabout that would surely dismantle the development plans for the corner."

Read more:

Where is the Journal Times on this?  "CVS Pharmacy takes one more step forward" is their current story on the project -

I suspect that the roundabout story is true.  It sounds exactly like something lying John.would do, even if it kills the neighborhood.

Dickert may be a criminal, but he's a smart one.

"City Administrator’s current contract expires Sunday"

July 07, 2015 8:34 pm  • 

"RACINE — It’s been three weeks since the City Council voted to extend City Administrator Tom Friedel’s contract, giving him a $10,000 raise over two years.

"But whether he will accept their offer, and stay on in the job still remains unclear, at least for the public at large.

"With his current contract slated to expire on Sunday, July 12, calls made to Friedel over the last few weeks have not been returned, and other city officials have remained mum on the issue.

"Asked about the situation on Monday, Deputy City Attorney Scott Letteney, who oversees the city’s human resources department, wrote in an email: 'it is not his place to address this issue.'

"A call made to Mayor John Dickert on Tuesday regarding the situation was not returned.

"An email sent to Friedel on Monday received an automatic reply that he would be out of the office until July 13.

"City Council President Dennis Wiser said Tuesday evening he was not aware of Friedel’s plans and there had been no updates from Friedel or the administration, as far as he knew.

"'I haven’t gotten anything to that effect,' he said.

"The relative silence that has fallen upon the issue in recent weeks comes after close to a month of contentious debate among aldermen about the city administrator position and its salary."

Read more:

You're not appreciated here, Tom. Time to move on.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

"RCC Editorial"

From Racine County Corruption:

 "Peter Feigin-welfare beggar"

"Peter Feigin, president of the Milwaukee Bucks, informed Wisconsin lawmakers that the NBA team will move to another market if the requested 250 million dollars in public funding for the proposed arena is not approved.

"Go already!

"Wisconsin doesn't need or want another public welfare team like the MLB Milwaukee Screwers. The Brewer taxing district has continued to lie to the public about finances and continues to force the public to pay for millionaires games. Bud Selig and his daughter, Welfare Wendy Selig/Prieb and others have had the money rolling in since this corporate welfare scam was jammed down the throats of the Proles and Sheeple. Former Governor Tommy Tax Thompson and his co conspirators have stuck the public with a shit sandwich. To quote Tommy Tax Thompson regarding the stadium tax, 'STICK IT TO 'EM'

"Only Proles and Sheeple could be so stupid to support another public welfare supported team.
If the deal was soooo good , private money would be flooding into the proposed arena.

"A long time ago after the Milwaukee Braves left for Atlanta, a distinguished former player of the Milwaukee Brave was asked by a sportswriter why he didn't go to Brewer Stadium to watch the MLB games. His response was classic. 'Who wants to go watch a bunch of millionaires play ball?'
"Exactly our feeling also.


Sunday, July 5, 2015

Fair Warning

Racine: "VIDEO: Cop Pulls Man Over, Refuses to Let Him Show Insurance, Gives Him Ticket for No Insurance"

By Matt Agorist on June 26, 2015 
"Racine, WI — James Wells was driving through town this week when he was stopped by a cop for a missing front license plate.

"During the stop, Wells says the officer refused to let him get his insurance, after she asked him for his insurance. The officer then wrote him a ticket for failure to provide proof of insurance!

"As the officer is writing up the various pieces of paper that will be used to extort this man, Wells grabs his cell phone and proceeds to go off.

"'When she came to the car and she asked if I have a drivers license, I said yes, I have to look for it though it’s in my glove compartment. She said no, I don’t know what you’re reaching for, do not reach for it,' Wells explains the officer’s fearful tactics.

"'When you ask me if I have insurance, and I reach to show you my insurance you get scared? And then you assume I don’t have any,' says Wells, describing the irrational nature of this officer.

"'What am I gonna reach for'? asks Wells. 'Am I gonna reach for a football? Or one of my books'"?

Read more and see the video at: