SEABROOK, N.H. —<<< LINKY
A man is behind bars Wednesday after police said he was inside a stranger’s basement under the influence of meth and damaged their HVAC system with an ax.
This all happened Tuesday around 10:30 p.m. when police said they got a call about a burglary. The homeowner reported they heard someone banging around in their basement
They found a stranger on meth with an ax.
Police said that stranger was Joshua Pelletier, 31, in the basement of a home on Hooksett Street in Seabrook.
“That axe he was using to smash the heating and AC unit in the basement of the home,” Seabrook Lt. Timothy Mone said.
Seabrook police said officers deployed a K-9 and tried to get Pelletier to drop the ax. The suspect initially refused police commands to get out of the basement, but eventually, he listened.
“This appears to be random and Mr. Pelletier was believed to be under the influence of illicit substances and I believe that's what contributed to the behavior that we saw,” Mone said.
The post below was linked from a comment on an earlier post. It seems the blog has gone quiet as of
March 2021. Still some good reading over >>THERE<< -
--Irish
Seriously, Stop Reading If You Hate Snark
Recently I read a blog post by a woman whose young daughter revealed at the dinner table how much she wished she weren’t white so that she could have a culture.
The School of Athens
Painted by a guy who felt no need to “appropriate”
I’m so glad that young white people are finally grappling with this embarrassing topic. I mean, if it weren’t for Homer, Hesiod, Sappho, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Pythagoras, Archimedes, Sophocles, Aeschylus, Euripides, Aristophanes, Herodotus, Hippocrates, Thucydides, Herodotus, Euclid, Plutarch, Josephus, Ptolemy, Cato, Terence, Catullus, Cicero, Caesar, Sallust, Virgil, Horace, Livy, Ovid, Seneca, Petronius, Pliny the uncle, Pliny the nephew, Martial, Suetonius, Tacitus, Marcus Aurelius, Paul of Tarsus, Augustine, Tertullian, Boethius, Bede, Eusebius, Galen, Machaut, Dufay, van Eyck, van der Weyden, Ockeghem, Aquinas, Giotto, Chaucer, Hildegard, Donatello, Bosch, Durer, Gutenberg, Luther, Zwingli, Hus, Calvin, Erasmus, Montaigne, Rabelais, Tallis, Palestrina, Dowland, Monteverdi, Dante, Copernicus, Tycho, Kepler, Galileo, Bacon, Spinoza, Cervantes, Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, Botticelli, Caravaggio, Titian, Gentileschi, Veronese, Josquin, Shakespeare, Spenser, Newton, Marlowe, Milton, Donne, Dryden, Descartes, Pascal, Rembrandt, El Greco, Velázquez, Vermeer, Caravaggio, Bernini, Rubens, Corneille, Molière, Racine, Harvey, Lavoisier, Defoe, Montesquieu, Purcell, Bach, Pachelbel, Hogarth, Telemann, Handel, Haydn, Locke, Hume, Berkeley, Burke, Smith, Kant, Boucher, Watteau, Fragonard, Voltaire, Diderot, Rousseau, Gibbon, David, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Hegel, Mill, Comte, Jenner, Goethe, Schiller, Byron, Blake, Tennyson, Austen, Keats, Coleridge, Shelley, Shelley, Browning, Browning, Brontë, Brontë, Brontë, Hugo, Eliot, Wordsworth, Pushkin, Gogol, Chekov, Turgenev, Darwin, Turner, Renoir, Monet, Manet, Degas, Emerson, Melville, Thoreau, Dickenson, Hawthorne, Poe, Flaubert, Stendahl, Balzac, Bellini, Donizetti, Rossini, Mendelssohn, Chopin, Brahms, Wagner, Liszt, Mussorgsky, Dvořák, Turgenev, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Zola, Kierkegaard, van Gogh, Whistler, Seurat, Cézanne, Gauguin, Rousseau, Bruckner, Mahler, Verdi, Puccini, Ibsen, Edison, Tesla, Westinghouse, Ford, Koch, Pasteur, Lister, Freud, Curie, Curie, Roentgen, Twain, Stevenson, Hardy, Crane, Hopkins, Yeats, Whitman (who hardly counts since he was gay), Tchaikovsky (who hardly counts since he was gay), Wilde (who hardly counts since he was gay), Cather (who hardly counts since she was gay), Gide (who hardly counts since he was gay), Proust (who hardly counts since he was gay), Copland (who hardly counts since he was gay), Auden (who hardly counts since he was gay), Britten (who hardly counts since he was gay), Williams (who hardly counts since he was gay), Woolf, Tolkien, Conrad, Huxley, Orwell, O’Neill, Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso, Braque, Matisse, Duchamp, Kandinsky, de Chirico, O’Keefe, Nabokov, Marquez, Llosa, Borges, Paz, Neruda, Faulkner, James, Conrad, Wharton, London, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, Lewis, Buck, Bellow, Joyce, Eliot, Pound, Plath, Hughes, Frost, Lawrence, Christie, Sayers, James, Stravinsky, Nijinsky, Balanchine, Debussy, Ravel, Bartók, Hindemith, Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Sibelius, Vaughan Williams, Miro, Modigliani, Mondrian, Kahlo, Klimt, Dali, Rodin, Brancusi, Hopper, Rothko, Bohr, Planck, Einstein, Fermi, Whitehead, Russell, Sartre, Camus, de Beauvoir, Weil, O’Connor, Brecht, Kafka, Fleming, Salk&Sabin, Watson&Crick, Kerouac, Vonnegut, Updike, Pynchon, Ballard, Bradbury, Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein, le Guin, McCarthy, Pollock, Rauschenberg, Diebenkorn, and de Kooning, white people would have no culture at all.
Good point, young lady.
I was visiting an industrial zone in the suburbs of Madrid with a fellow collector where all the scrap yards of the area are concentrated. These huge scrap yards have mostly old crashed cars and some metal leftovers for recycling. We used to make visits once a month just in case we found interesting military vehicles for sale, as someone had told us that only a year earlier you could buy ex-spanish army american MB willys jeeps or WC-52 trucks, saving them from the torch.
We were driving around and suddenly from the distance we saw what was literally a mountan full of helmets! The adrenaline rush was something i´ll never forget. Upon closer inspection, we discovered the mountain consisted of some spanish civil War m-21 and M-26 helmets, some post war american M1 type helmets, but mostly spanish Z-42, german look alike helmets.
We were nevertheless excited, as the lot looked really old. We started climbing the mountain and joking about how nice it would be if they would be german helmets. After all we knew Franco had received some amount of war material, including helmets, from Nazi Germany. Suddenly, I stepped on a huge, german M-35 helmet. Yes, it was a real german M-35 helmet!
As you can imagine, after finding that gem, we decided to "dig" for more. We spent the next fifteen days coming back every afternoon and literally moving the mountain from one area to the other by the system of climbing on the top and inspecting every helmet, one by one, and throwing the helmets to a side, thus forming a new, filtered helmet mountain.
We managed to find 38 german M-35 helmets of different sizes, complete with original liners but with post war chinstraps. Some had the Spanish eagle attached to the front, but others were perfectly clean.
I kept one specimen for me, an ET 68 sized helmet, only having to add an original chinstrap. The rest were sold for a good amount of money to a militaria dealer.
The owner of the scrap yard did not know what he had, and he thought we were crazy when we asked him permission to "look" in the helmet mountain. "Why would you do that?" he said. "All the helmets are the same. Just take as many as you like from the base of the mountain". Nevertheless, he agreed, and charged us the equivalent of 9 euros for each helmet.
The second photo shows the two mountains, the one on the back had already been checked. The last two photos are of the helmet I kept (and still have, of course). I really felt as if I was in an allied depot in 1945. The experience was magnificent.
By the way, we also found some well marked german bags, of which I kept a couple. They are black leather bags with shoulder straps that I think are ordnance related, maybe to store a telescopic sight, but never bothered to find out. I will take them out of the boxes and photograph one for you folks to help me identify them.
I apologize if my story was too boring and hope you like the photos.
Regards,
Gus
Here is the image I found originally.
After some searching, I found the Digital Artist's page that has these and many others:
This one got a good hearty laugh out loud here in the wee hours of the sooper sekrit bunker.
Turkey Hunting Adventures
There I was, standing on the stoop at camp, having just
finished calling intermittently for a few hours, moving around the field using
three different calls. It's around 10AM. I had been at the calling for several
hours. My shotgun was on the rack, unloaded, inside camp when three hens emerge
from the old driveway, which had been mowed in August. The old driveway
entrance to the field is about 30 yards from camp.
I had looked down the camp road with my bino's before I
decided to let it rest for a while and saw nothing. I have, in the past, seen
gobblers, jakes and hens walking on the road in a line after calling for less
than an hour.
The hens started feeding along as they walked diagonally
away from camp toward the lower left corner of the field. The field is
rectangular shaped , 75X150 yards with the short axis facing camp. It (the
field) is not table top flat. It kind of undulates with little pockets where a
turkey can disappear from sight and generally slopes downhill away from camp. I
froze waiting for them to get behind one of the several clumps of old apple
trees that are dotted around the field, so that I could retrieve my shotgun and
a couple rounds of 12 gauge #5's. The barrel I have mounted is modified choke,
but the pattern is pretty tight. I've already harvested two turkeys with it in
prior years at camp. Both of the others were harvested inside 20 yards, shot in
the head and neck with multiple pellets of #5's.
These apple trees are the wild variety, more like leggy
bushes than the apple trees one would find in an orchard. The apples they
produce are small, dry, tart and mealy. Animals of all kinds, excepting coyotes
and foxes, like them, especially deer, bear and turkeys. Drops disappear
overnight. I digress.
The hens get behind one of the apple tree clumps and are now
mostly screened from sight. I carefully open the screen door .and retrieve my
shotgun and two rounds. I load inside camp, which is a NoNo; we have a rule, NO
LOADED GUNS inside camp. I was the only one in camp and I wanted the sound of
my pump action shotgun chambering a round to be muffled. I also pick up one of
my calls and put it my jacket pocket.
Just as I emerge from camp, the hens come into the open and
see me. Two of them run 10-15 yards in the direction they had been traveling,
stop and look right at me. I freeze again. I have a camo coat, hat and jeans
on. Camp is light colored and the sun is bright, although it shines from the
other end of camp, so it's behind me. The sun shining from behind me will
become important further on. I know that I'm standing out like a sore thumb due
to the light coloration of camp's siding contrasting with my darkly colored
clothing.
The hens start moving again continuing in the direction they
had been traveling. They're now about 80 yards out. As they disappeared from
sight behind another clump of apple trees, I decide to try to shorten the
distance. I get down to the second clump of apple trees and get down on a knee.
Remember the sun is shining from behind me so they can see me in silhouette
if/when I move. There are no leaves left of the apple trees. I'm depending on
the bare branches to breakup my outline. I make a quick low volume call. The
hens come back into sight sort of heading toward me. I try to stay still, but
I'm old and out of shape. The old muscles are starting to protest after 3-4
minutes kneeling. The hens are about 50 yards away. I inadvertently move,
trying to ease a barking hip joint that I had strained earlier that morning
climbing up onto a chair to light a propane lamp inside camp. The hens freeze
for about 30 seconds, then continue on, feeding along the way. They get down to
the corner of the field and enter the brush along the left edge of the field
adjacent to a short roadway that had been cut through the brush some years
back. The roadway is about 120 yards from camp. Since I'm now screened from the
hens, as they're in the brush, I decide to walk down to the roadway to see what
I could see. I can't see the hens or hear them moving around, so I figured
that's the end of that. They're going to go to the property below our camp
through the woods and feed through those fields. I turn around and head back to
camp.
Just as I get back to the stoop, I looked over my shoulder
and see the hens re-emerge from the brush into the field. They're walking
diagonally at a shallow angle heading towards the brush on the other side and
disappear in a dip in the field's topography. I walk quickly down, hunched
over, to the second clump of apple trees, get down on a knee, and make a short
call. Two heads pop up to where I can see them, looking right at me. They're
about 60 yards away. There is no cover between the other side of the clump I'm
trying to hide behind and the hens. I stay put, trying not to move. I'm very
aware of the sun behind me. The hens change direction and head towards the
brush on the opposite side of the field they were heading towards when they
re-emerged AND they're heading towards me, but angling away from my position.
The clump I'm using to sort of hide me is a little right of center, so I'm
located about 40 yards from the brush line the hens are angling towards. Their
bodies start disappearing again as they're heading into another dip in the
field topography. When their heads disappear, I decide to try to try to shorten
the distance. So I quickly walk hunched way over, well as quickly as I could in
that position, get to about 20 yards from the crest of the dip the hens are
behind, get down on one knee, and get my shotgun into firing position with a
good cheek weld generally aiming at where I think they are.
A head pops up, I move the fluorescent orange front sight
about 2 inches, lining up on the head and fire. I swear I saw that hen's eye
bug out when she saw the muzzle swing on her. I didn't feel the recoil, although
there probably was some, as my 12 gauge only weighs 6.5 pounds. I jacked a
fresh round in, just in case, although I was pretty sure the hen was dead,
picked up the fired case for a souvenir and walked over to where the hen was in
death throws. One pellet went through the head just in back of the eye and
several more kinda shredded the neck. One pellet lodged in the left side breast
just under the skin.
All of this played out over the course of an hour or so.
Three hens entered two left.