A week ago I wrote here that Mitch Fiandt was fighting cancer, and now he's gone.
Just like that.


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 So, I'm retiring. Not from my full time job of dispatching to become a Gentleman Author, as I wanted. (It's like a Gentleman Farmer, a rich person who just farms as a hobby. No real farmer is a Gentleman Farmer, especially considering their ungentlemanly language while going through bills ( Read more... )

April has sucked royally thus far, and I haven't felt very funny (as opposed to not being funny and thinking I am). So I'm celebrating National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week the way they used to do summer television: With a re-run.)


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One stressful thing about being a dispatcher is that when the phone rings it could be anything. Many of us play Dispatch Bingo. A UFO report? A herd of cattle blocking the roadway? Lunch, interrupted? A couple arguing over who gets custody of their dog? That's a row--bingo!

For some dispatchers this is one of the perks of the job: the challenge and ( Read more... )

 As a group, humans have an amazing ability to screw themselves ( Read more... )

As a firefighter, I studied building construction a lot. Sadly, this gave me no skills in actually building a structure, although I can tell you why a lot of them fall down ( Read more... )

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 And ... I missed most of it. Which I really don't mind, because I'm not much of a fair ride rider. I am a fair food foodie, but my wife and three doctors held me down and beat me with broccoli sticks until I gave them all my cash.


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 We're getting a new radio system in our dispatch center, and the guy training us on it claims we could use it at home, on a laptop ( Read more... )

It’s the family fight season

And Uncle Ted is coming ‘round

He gets so drunk that he falls to the ground

When old Teddy gets into town

He’ll be going to the jailhouse now

(He’ll be going to the jailhouse now)


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