The Perfect Crime and Other Blunders

Every Since I was a young child, I wanted to pull off the perfect crime. I had high ideals. I loved the idea of stealing millions and living in Tahiti for the rest of my life. I realize I have just spoiled those plans since I have just given written proof of intent and where I can be found. Tahiti does not have an extradition treaty with the United States, howeverm so if I got there, with prior intent or not, I could still live in hut with my feet dangling in the water. Maybe that is where the shark will finally get me.

What threatened my plans was I kept growing. Smaller than 6 foot would have been okay. But God had other plans since I pushed 6 inches past 6 ft. Now, the only place I blend in is at basketball camp. I could not slip out the back of a bank or casino and casually walk down the street since my head would be a good 6-10 inches above the other bobbing heads. Inspector Gadget would not need any toys to find me. I have yet to see a single movie where a really tall guy gets away with anything. We usually play the role of the guy in jail that the hero knocks out to win everyone's respect.

One would think this would naturally have lead me to be the organizer and the man that is never seen in crime dramas but I was not smart enough. I had not met any real criminals or anyone with my criminal intent, my fault for not having spent enough time in jail. Tall or not, I was going to have to learn the way every one else does, trial and error and mostly by myself.

I started stealing whatever I could from my Mom’s meager purse and from my neighbors. No honor among theives here. A few quarters were never missed in a pool of change. It cost 50 cents for lunch so when I took a few quarters, I was rolling in it. I would steal my sister’s rings in 6th grade and give them to my girlfriend. This worked wonders. My sister probably thought she lost them and my girlfriend loved the gifts. The plan unraveled when I realized my sister was staring a hole in the back of my head on the bus. We all rode the bus together and my girlfriend was showing off her new ring. It became pretty obvious that although I had the initial social dysfunction to steal, I was not too smart. I knew I needed to learn more before I went on.

My plan was to go to a library and at gun point, demand all the books on money. The fact that it may take the librarian a good a hour to round them all up could lead to my capture but I have scoped out many libraries and the security is really lax. My problem would be to remember not to give my library card or to show back up when the books were due. I thought maybe I should start with a small county library and work my way up.

I ended up skiping the Library, however, as I deemed it too risky. I went right to shop lifting. I had an 8th grade friend that hatched a scheme and I was invited in. Like any good gangster film, I was the hired help. I was not the brains of the operation which was probably a smart decision but the shear boldness of the plan definitely pointed to lack of intellect. While I diverted the girl at the cash register, my friend crawled behind her and grabbed a carton of cigarettes. In the early 70’s they were kept right at the counter. We did not take into consideration that there would be other people in line. I could see my friend’s ass wiggle as he bent to to fearlessly grab our stash. The store manager or bag guy could have caught us at any time. Some how, we pulled it off but, thankfully it was our first and last heist together. He later grew up to become the mayor.

I went solo on the shoplifting and my escape plan was always to run. I never had to and it built a laziness and an I can get away with anything mentality.
I shimmied up the crime pole by moving onto cars.

The first time I tried it, it was as easy as waking up on a spring morning. I am not sure how many times I would go for joy rides but at one point I invited a friend and we went into town and all over the country side. I ran around so much that I had to get gas. The attendant knew I was 13 and called the police. The police were waiting for me with a 2 car trap when I neared home so I tried to avoid them. The quickly saw it was me and had me pull over. I handed them my brother’s license that claimed I was 16. Back then, there were no pictures just a vague description. The police officer looked at the license and then at me.

“Aren’t you Bernie"?
“Hardly"! I snickered.
“That is my younger brother, I‘m Wayne” I smiled.
“That was an amazing shot you made to win the basketball game on Tuesday” the officer added.
“Thanks” I said.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that my brother, Wayne, was a basketball legend in this small town and I was busted. The cop knew all along that my hairless chin was not that of my brother’s. What really took it down the wrong road was when he leaned down and held the flashlight on my friend. It was his nephew.

My only punishment was that I had to spend the night at my friend’s house and that should have been enough since I thought his father was going to kill me. I slept in the living room, still alive, thinking of my next heist.

I realized it was time to move on to banks. I didn’t see this as any big deal. The tellers are trained to just give you the money while they press the button. I just needed 30 seconds for one drawer to be emptied and another minute if I wanted to add any others. I did this without fail and walked calmly out of the bank with a sack full of money. I would have gotten away with it had I not stopped to write my name in some wet cement.

For more advice on how to commit the perfect crime...

http://listverse.com/2007/08/16/top-10-tips-to-commit-the-perfect-crime/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perfect_crime


"david flannery"

The Grim Reaper and Other Play Dates

I was wondering why we call the Grim Reaper grim. Isn’t the passing into the next life suppose to be wondrous and happy? The idea of a grim, boney, faceless, hooded soul with a sickle does hold some appeal to me, however. He wouldn’t have to say,
“ Come with me, you know what you have done”,
I would go without being asked, dragged or sickled . I never believed I deserved Heaven, in fact I have felt just the opposite.

If there were real justice, we would all be in Hell, at least if only for a good spanking. That is me judging so you can see just one of the reasons why I would be going. I just think with the whole energy crisis that Hell and it’s eternal flames must be rather expensive to run and even Satan must dread the monthly heating bill. Same goes for Heaven, the constant temperature of perfection must be a bill that has God even wondering why he opened the gates or least wondering why he didn’t insulate. It is not that I think most people are bad I just never believed in eternal reward or punishment. Forty years with me has, at times, felt like an eternity….I am not sure I want to experience me forever

Grim ( as his friends? call him) has many souls to pick up if my math is correct. Which could only mean that there were more than one of them. Maybe one is really large and not all bones like in the pictures. I am not sure how I would feel if I answered the door, however,  and saw that death had been eating better than me. It could be that the Grim that comes for you is the opposite of you. I may have a munchkin Grim that hangs onto my belt as he takes me away.
“Not so fun being tall today, is it” ? steams from his hood as we get into a mini couper. I think if Hell where Hell, however, he would show up and just start the tease.
“I’m not hear for you today, I was just checking the address”. This way you could stew in what you had done and prepare yourself for the constant torment that lay ahead. I am sure that when Grim came for Hitler, the other Grims had to pull overtime. They all came. No since letting such a prize get away with a last minute profession of Christ and what better story to tell the little Grims than the day you harvested more than hops from Germany.

Like with all dead end jobs, I would think Grim would need time off like the rest of us. We all spend our down time a little different and this would be no exception. Since we always sit around and worry about death, does he sit around worrying about life? I would imagine in his spare time, he wouldn’t interact well with others. I don’t imagine that any of his neighbors would borrow tools and not return them. Can you imagine holding onto a drill and having death come knocking on your door? I could see Grim stopping by if I committed a murder but for borrowing a screwdriver? Play dates for his children would be a problem. I mean few people would want to refuse but when Grim says he will back at 6pm, you would not be inclined to answer the door. And what if his child gets unruly while he is gone? How do you discipline the Grim Reaper’s child? I can’t imagine ‘time out’ being very effective to an eternal spirit.

I would imagine that the Grim house is pretty quite. He does not receive any mail, visitors and is on the do not call list. I have never seen his name listed in either the white or yellow pages. I think telemarketers have a tough job. The day your number rotation has you call the house of death may not be the sale you want.
“Yes” Grim says, “I will take everything you have. When can you come over and deliver everything?”

Since virtually everybody who has a job, answers to someone, I wonder who Grim answers to. Does he get monthly or yearly reviews? Is he called out on the carpet when he makes a mistake? And what would his punishment be? How do you reprimand death? It would be easy to think that Satan was his boss but I don’t think the after life, other than having your flesh ripped off every day, is much different than the world of the living. There must be miles of middle managers always coming up with new ideas. The paper work would be endless, especially since they could care less if they kill trees. A performance review may look like this.
“ Sit down Grim, take a load off. Have you lost weight? ”
“ I always liked your wit sir, why have you called me into your office?”
“ The Madison pick-up. According to the logs, you were there over an hour”
“She seemed too happy and she had just made dinner. It was like she was expecting me”
“The wise are always expecting you”
“Anyway, we talked and she didn’t seem like such a bad soul. I didn’t really want to take her”
“It is not up to us Grim. We don’t make the rules. I am the first to say I hate being a company man but I have a family to think of…. So leave your thoughts at home and give me some of those numbers I am use to….”
“Yes sir ‘ Grim replies.


I always imagined that it would end something like this for me. I would hear the doorbell ring and I would jump up with excitement for my hot steaming pizza. I fling the door open and there is Grim, he just shrugs.
I hear my wife yell from the kitchen,
“See, I told you that pizza would kill you!”
She would, as always, get the last word in.
My only hope and fantasy is that Grim is so busy that he has had to speed up his work by wearing roller blades. I don’t think this is unreasonable since there are more people to pick up and even death has to be time conscious. I think there should be a little levity if I am going to Hell for eternal punishment. I would have to wear roller blades too, just to keep up with him and since I have never been able to stop properly, or at all on those things, I am just hoping I ride right past Hell to the other side.



To read the history of the Grim Reaper, click the links below:

http://www.mythicalcreaturesguide.com/page/Grim+Reaper

http://www.answerbag.com/q_view/14896

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_(personification)

david flannery

Aliens In Our Mist

Did you ever wonder why aliens from outerapace always appear in a white mist with bright lights shining everywhere as they try to scramble through whatever underbrush our 4 billion year old planet can muster? According to Hollywood, even when no one is around, the landed spaceship has vast amounts of steam shrilling from every opening, creating the mist just in case the upcoming abduction isn't in the north coast of California's everday fog. After leaving their ship, where ever they go, to a house or to a barn, there is always steam, it just follows them. Apparently faster than light travel cause a lot of friction so the steam just oozes off of them, which obviously burns all their hair off. They are always bald. Maybe with four fingers they can do almost anything except create Rogaine.
My conclusion is that the ability to travel beyond light speeds somehow requires the use of steam engines. All this effort we have devoted to coming up with warp drives and particle accelerators and we have had the answer since the 1800’s. We didn’t know this on the Apollo missions. We didn’t see this steam on the moon landing because we only reached speeds of 25,000 miles an hour, a snail’s pace.

And the lights. It is always like a bad Broadway play (Like there is such a thing). A blind person could find their way around these ships. They can travel across the universe but can’t see 15 feet in front of their space ship without flood lights. They seem capable of traveling across galaxies with unbelievable methods of direction and engineering but, once they enter Earth's sky, every color of the rainbow has to radiate from their ship. And what makes that important is that the aliens are always portrayed as having eyes the size of bananas, ( 2 week old black bananas). They could gather enough light in those large orbs to see in a lightless cave yet; they always leave the lights on. Apparently one of the side effects of hyper space travel is boundless energy and the desire to leave the lights on. If their goal is to remain hidden, it is like robbing a bank and trying to go unnoticed by wrapping sets of Christmas lights around every part of your body then hiding in a nearby bush. One advancement I would like to learn from them is that that I have never heard of a witness catching an alien on a ladder changing a bulb. They have figured that one out.

If you have never heard of or experienced a night terror you are missing one of nature’s real treats. You partially wake but can’t move a muscle and the whole time you are convinced there is something in the room that wants to hurt you. There is nothing worse. I have had it happen three times in my life. They are as old as time and besides the invention of distilled spirits; it is where the idea of Alien abductions originated. I let people off the hook if they are not familiar with night terrors. But after that explanation is exhausted and the person goes on to tell about populating other planets, there is only one explanation. The person’s IQ has not boiled over a 100. The proof of this is staggering. Let’s take a look at who has never been abducted. No Nobel Prize winning scientists, No Professional athletes, No Heads of States, No Fashion models ( okay not a good example), No Pulitzer Prize winning authors and to my knowledge, no one with breast implants. Which might be proof alone since you would think the little green men would want to figure out why women do this. If I were going to study humans, this would be my study group, especially if I was going to pull out instruments and probes.

What about the archeological evidence, like carved landscapes of animals or apparent landing strips only identifiable from the air? If I were on a deserted island, I am sure that all of my work would be aimed at attracting the attention of something in the air. It is likely that my carved message of "Dear God, save me… I can’t eat another coconut!" would be so large that a satellite could see it. The pyramids are not a mystery to me. They are made out of square blocks put one on top of another.
“How did they get there?" They carried them.
"How?" One at a time, I don't care.
I mean it is amazing and cool but much like my grandmother’s cooking. The very fact that she has ruined the Turkey dinner every Thanksgiving for 25 years is unexplainable, but not unworldly.

What about eye witness testimony? Many people will talk about eye witness testimony from credible witnesses. The problem is, there is no such thing. Study after study has shown that no one is a credible eye witness. There has been research that had people watching tapes of other people interacting and then the scientist introduces a gorilla suited man that walks across the screen for 9 seconds and during the post interview, no one has seen it or has any memory of the gorilla. For years I would tell my parents that I had gotten home before midnight and they always said,
“Well, I didn't see you!” "
Can't rely on eye witnesses!" , I would remind them.
Remember the thief with the Christmas lights? Maybe not such a bad disguise if there are hordes of people around.

What about the photographs? Well the fact that almost all of them turn out to be either hoaxes or explainable just means that the remaining small percentages are probably in the same category. My family and I look at pictures that are 30 years old and we can't figure who most of the people are. Always some neighbor kid or some relative we forgot about. Pictures are rarely what they appear to be. I was once shown a picture of me with small farm animals. I was able to show it was only a matter of lighting and reflections. My one friend argues that there are no pictures of him having sex but that does not mean he has not had boat loads. In his case I think it does. There is a website that professionals use to turn in atmospheric photographs and every month, they have a picture of something that has never been captured before, but always explainable. They are bizarre and amazing but they are all from this bizarre and amazing planet. You would think that after a 100 year of photographs, there would be at least one really good one of a spaceship. Politicians are surely hiding their sexual behavior just as much as the aliens are hiding their spaceships but we seem to get weekly graphic updates of the politicians. There is never a blurry dot in a photograph that someone points to and says “That’s Bill Clinton”

There is an old saying. There is definitely life elsewhere in the universe. The proof of this is that it has chosen not to come here. Hold on everyone, we are going to be alone for a long long time.



david flannery


http://www.google.com/profiles/berniecamehome
http://www.doomsdayguide.org/UFO/ufo_hoaxes.htm
http://bitsnoop.com/lyne-pentagon-aliens-expose-of-hoax-ufos-q1267891.html
http://www.facebook.com/davidwflannery

No One Gets Out Of Here Alive

No one goes to a health clinic in the hopes of meeting someone. You certainly don’t think about finding a new friend while you are in the STD line. You don’t stand for food stamps if you can afford to put something on your table and you don’t stand in the HIV express lane if you are behaving sexually. All right, let’s get this out of the way. Sex is cool and great, heck every thing that has ever lived has done it (or tried)… It is right up there with eating, a necessity. Should you do it only if you are married? Who knows such things? I do know that married men and women sleep around in numbers that would shock you. I know of one person who has stayed faithful for 30 years and he is the angriest man I know. That is just my experience.

I went to the clinic because I was asked to go. No, I didn’t get the dreaded phone call from the County Health Service representative saying that someone that was infected had turned in my name. That would have implied that I actually had had sex. And that would be real humor. Instead, I was actually trying to be responsible and before the next time I did engage, I would know that I was safe. Like a pitcher warming up in the 5th inning, I thought I was soon going to get in the game.

The problem was I came with the girl I was thinking of sleeping with. We were holding hands as we were waiting to be called. We had gotten there at 8 am, we were the first appointments. It is great to feel like a priority at an STD Clinic. Since anonymity is paramount and is even the law, I was given the secret code of # 1 and my new friend was # 2. We sat behind a really attractive woman, who was # 3.
My clinic date said “Wow, she has really pretty hair.” I was not looking or trying to notice anyone, I already felt like I was at the prom with my mother…but hey, she brought it to my attention, so I added “And Legs”. What does it say to the other clients when you get elbowed in the main waiting room? It looked like we had just been handed our results and it was entirely my fault.

“Number One, can you please follow me?’ Nothing fits my ego better than this label. I was led into a poorly lit room. I sat with a counselor and he asked me about my sex life.
“That is a little personal, don’t you think?” I asked him.
“I am only here to help” He deadpanned.
“Really...Could you give me some numbers of loose women?”
He said nothing. If girls knew how we men thought, they would never speak to us. Then he said, “You know, with express, you can find out your results in 30 minutes, but you are down for the full examination, which will take 2 weeks. “
“I haven’t had sex in 16 months, what is 2 weeks?” I lied, 2 weeks would seem like the same amount of time it would take Pluto to orbit the Sun. He finished my history and apparently came to the same conclusion as the initial intake, express service was not for me. He initialed that I was to give every possible sample, including a brain sample.
“Does the brain sample hurt?’ I asked.
“Normally, but it is pretty clear you haven’t been using yours, you’ll be fine”

I was first asked to sit in the ‘we will need you to urinate section’ all by myself. This is cool since most men have trouble urinating when others are around anyway.
“Number 1 ? Is Number 1 here ? I need Number 1's blood”, A small Vietnamese woman asked. I looked to my left and right. I was still the only one in the room.
“I am Number 1, but I thought I was supposed to go #1 before the blood letting occurred?
“You do number 1 second, first we take blood” she said. I just shook my head and followed her into a morgue like hallway. It was freezing.
‘Why is it so cold in here?” I asked.
“Keeps the germs down” she said.
“I guess that’s why no on gets sick in Canada” I chuckled and continued.
“Do you use needles or leeches to get the blood?” She gave that grinned shut up look. She needed to confirm who I was before she put my blood in a vial.
"Your name?”
“I am the One”
“Yes I know, but what is your real name?”
“Bernie, its Bernie Home. But who is number One?" I asked.
“You are” she smiled. I was finally being appreciated.
She swabbed my arm with alcohol, which takes 10 minutes to kill the germs but the needle was in within seconds.

I was then asked to go a different waiting room . I was again alone until the cute #3 with the pretty hair and legs came by. She waved like a cheerleader. I waved back less enthusiastically. I then was asked to go into another room with a dark skinned older woman.
“I am going to check you for everything” she said.
“Why, do I have that look on my face?” She just pointed to a chair.
“First I will check for moles, since we live in Florida and then I will check your scrotum.” I had never heard moles and scrotum used in the same sentence. My moles checked out and she asked me to drop my pants. I felt like a crack whore as my shorts wrapped around my ankles. She said I should check my testicles at least once a month for growths. “Honey, I have not left them alone since I was 12”. I didn’t care what I said at this point, I was trying to deflect my uncomfortableness with humor. She then pulled out a Q-tip as long as an elephant’s trunk.
“What is that for?” I winced.
“I have to check for chlamydia and gonorrhea by putting this inside your urethra.”
“Urethra? Didn’t they just play in the World Cup?”, I yelped. I knew she meant my penis but I have never considered it as having an orifice and yes, I took anatomy.
“I would rather you check my prostrate!”
“That I will check next but this will take just a second"
“A minute?” I cried. "Time just stopped for me!”
This is where the phrase, I wouldn't touch you with a 10 foot pole comes from. This q-tip was obviously left over from the Nazi’s. This was just unbelievable.
“All guys have this done, don’t worry” she added
“No they don’t!" I yelled. "I would have heard about this, that I am sure!”
In her next minute, I nearly blacked out and I called for my mother at least 3 times. I was never going to have sex again.
"Time for prostrate" She smiled.
Then I heard the plastic glove slap on. Then I heard another one snap on. I whipped around. She was grinning with both hands covered in gloves.

" Why two gloves?" I shrilled. " Are you going spelunking?"
"You very funny!" She said. I called for my mother one last time.

I was back in a third waiting room, fairly sure I had left some part of my manhood in that small torture cell. My clinic date joined me and asked “How is it going?’
“How is it going?” I said with the look of death. “I envy pin cushions right now. I am thinking that a 2 week stay in 1940's Dachau would be a relief..and those gorgeous breasts of yours…I wouldn’t touch them with a 10 foot pole! No offense!”
I got up to pay my bill and walk away. While I was in line waiting to pull out my wallet, number 3 danced behind me with a bubbly smile.
“Hey” she said.
“Hey? “ I asked.
“Do you want my number?” she smiled.

"That's okay" I said. "I think I already know your number."



Stay Tooned... Next, Bernie goes camping with a long time friend and closet homosexual...





http://www.blogcatalog.com/blogs/david-flannery.html

It’s Good To Be King

Every young boy has dreamed of being King, whether it was playing King of the Hill or running around the house with a cape and a staff. Maybe the staff didn’t turn into a snake like it did for Moses and Pharaoh but they were still magical moments.

My paternal grandmother’s maiden name is Lyons. We share this last name with the Queen of England. The Brits so love their queen, I guess they overlooked the fact that Lyons is a German name. The damn Germans ended up ruling England after all. Hitler went to all that trouble to bomb England into submission and all he had to do was breed his way in. (Not him personally, thinking about Hitler and sex is the second most revolting thing about WW 2, all the death and disfigurement coming in a solid first).

Being related to the crown has had no real practical advantages. No girl in any bar has ever believed that I was a royal, even when I threw in my famous British accent. I had even less luck when I spoke in my normal Pittsburghese. When I visited Buckingham Palace (my distant family’s summer home), my special connection did not even get me a discount on admission. Every time I touched something on the tour, I got yelled at despite my protests that I owned it. I stood in front of the famous stoic guards with their big black hats and ordered them to look at me. My best one liners didn’t even get a smirk. Apparently they did not get the memo that I was coming. I went on Ancestory.com to research my heritage. This whole site has got to be going broke. I have spent most of my life avoiding family, why would anyone pay to find more? Anyway, I have done the math and it appears there are 48 million people ahead of me for the throne. Talk about sibling rivalry. It is one thing to knock off an older brother to get to the big seat but to wipe out entire cities and countries is a large task. I have a much better chance of being marooned on an island and starting my own Lord of the Flies tribe. That was the book we all had to read in school that prepared us for the real world. The real world where most people would rather put your head on a spit than do something nice for you.

What would I do if I was King for a day? Would I over eat, over sex or pass laws that cleared the streets while I was driven around? Maybe the latter but here are a few of the things I would definitely do. I would outlaw cell phones. Talk when you get home, you are simply not that important. The idea that we use them while we drive is almost definitive proof that evolution is false. The universe would not spend 15 billion years making something so stupid. If you want to prove the existence of God, don’t look to the fossil record or the Bible, just point to stupid people. If you are one of those select few that have to move their cell phone down to their mouth every time they talk, you will be dealt with swiftly and put in the tower of London. Your only food will be stacks of the Yellow Pages books that no one uses. In order to keep you connected during your stay, you will have a tin can with a string connecting you to another equally stupid human.

I would destroy all Televisions. No more cable. Everything is better on the radio. Everyone pays over $100 dollars a month for a glowing box. Have I mentioned what I thought about Evolution? Anything that encourages you to stay inside will have to be abolished. Don’t worry; I will keep indoor plumbing, besides, the Sears catalog is no longer printed (you are old if you get that reference)

Other things I would do. No more taxes. All of your money would come to me and I will decide what to do with it. This is much like the IRS but I will be reasonable about it. I will spend your money on grand distractions so you will not know you are getting screwed. Besides, now that you don’t have a cell phone or cable package, you will actually have money in your pocket and you will not worry about the wars I start or the villages I pillage.

I think I am looking forward to holding court. I especially can’t wait to have a court jester. If he is not funny that day, off with his head! They say humor is born from pain but lack of humor will result in more pain! ( as any laughless marriage will attest). The best part about getting rid of the court’s funny man is I can then steal all of his jokes and say they are mine. There will be no witnesses and if there were, who would argue? I am the King.


http://maps.google.com/maps/place?hl=en&georestrict=input_srcid%3Ae52f1e824af59ab4
http://www.facebook.com/davidwflannery