Jail Cell to Burial Crypt

Judge’s order: Elliot Williams’ jail cell became ‘burial cell’

The jail’s medical staff began to wonder if Williams might actually be paralyzed from a broken neck, as he claimed. But those in charge did nothing to find out whether his claims were true.

Instead, they watched him slowly dying on a video camera.

What the fuck is wrong with us as a people?


F******* Madness

Everything about driver services (in every state, but especially Georgia) is f****** maddening. Everything. It has literally led me to scream out loud in my own house, and prompted the kids to ask “What’s wrong with daddy?”

I have to get the tags renewed (what an awesome birthday present for us adults!) and I’m thinking “hey, it’s 2016…surely there’s an easy way to do this online now!”


When you visit our lovely state’s DOR services website, you are asked for the RIN number on a sheet of paper they have (supposedly) mailed to you. Which is ludicrous, because what if I never got that piece of mail? What if the dog ate it? Or it got thrown away because one of the kids didn’t know any better? But hey, I actually have it this year, so this should be a breeze, right?

“Please confirm the information on file,” it asks me. Well, everything is correct on the information shown except the unit number of the condo, because we moved last Labor Day. I can’t specifically say “yes, it’s accurate” because they’ll send the new tags to 415, and I don’t live there anymore. That’s not good. So, I have to choose “no, it’s not accurate”. I’m thinking they’ll offer me the option to modify the information so as to let me continue.

Isn’t that awesome??!? This means I have to travel to one of these damn places to change 3 numbers.

3. Damn. Numbers.

So angry.

Also, Jayme recently changed her address on her driver’s license online. I thought that if she could do it (because she has NOT gone through the give-me-everything-but-a-spot-of-urine verification to renew your license yet), that surely I could do it quite easily (since I have gone through that back in 2013).

On the DDS website, which by the way is NOT linked to the DOR website (which handles the tags) in any way, you have to log in. Ok, maybe I’ve logged in before, maybe I haven’t. I honestly can’t remember. So I tried registering again.


“You already have an account with this information.” Ok, fair enough. I still don’t remember the login information, so I’ll press this handy dandy little link that says “Forgot User ID”. This should do the trick, right?

Really?!? How the hell is that possible? I didn’t even attempt to log in because I DON’T KNOW THE DAMN INFORMATION. Locks happen because the system is protecting itself from hacking. But I haven’t done anything. And I’m pretty sure that if I do this 2 hours from now or 2 days from now, it’s going to tell me the same stupid message.

Oh, and I DID try to use the Forgot User ID functionality and this is the error you gave me, numnuts.

So…now I have to go to two different places to change the EXACT SAME INFORMATION. Wtaf?

I hate, hate, hate drivers services everywhere. They should all be burned to the ground and started over. And if we’re going to do this, let’s try to incorporate some f****** user experience fundamentals into the design. You know, because maybe, just maybe, real human beings need to use the system you’ve provided.

Gotta Catch ’em All

Today, I became one of the many. Brian and I set out this afternoon for Piedmont Park to look for those elusive little virtual monsters.

It was beautiful outside, if not a little warm (91 degrees, roughly). But it was worth every moment to see Brian having fun without the word Minecraft being involved. And he really did have fun.

As anyone who knows Brian also knows he is a talker, but he took it to the next level today. It probably didn’t help that I didn’t understand what he was talking about, so he felt it was his duty to explain exactly, in excruciating detail, what he was doing and why he was doing it. It was also funny to watch people walk by and smile as he (not so softly) explained to his ignorant dad.

And yes, I now know how to “catch one”.

Broken Promises

Recently, I went to the movies (increasingly rare these days) to see “Independence Day: Resurgence”. Beyond the pros and cons of the movie itself (let’s just say it was a bad, but fun, movie), something stuck out to me. In the midst of the world ending around her, a nurse ensures one of her patients (a new mother) that she’s not going to die today.

“You are not going to die today. I promise!”

Really? You promise? Do you really believe that? Despite the really large fireball, larger than the building itself, set to hit you in about 30 seconds?

I understand the dramatic license within the context of the movie. I get that. What I don’t understand is why people say this in real life. Intelligent, rational people. They make promises they have no intent on living up to. Maybe they know at the time of the promise, maybe they don’t. But the fact that they don’t know 100% that they will keep that promise reinforces the fact that they shouldn’t have made it in the first place.

At that point, it’s NOT a promise. It’s a hope. At best.

Yet, we (as humans) won’t lower the sentiment to simply a hope. We keep raising that proverbial bar. We keep promising. And then, we break them.

Why do we believe the disappointment born of a broken promise is better than the disappointment from hope? Or better than simply not promising or instilling the original hope in the first place?

I know I’ve not been clean in this respect over the course of my life. I know that for a fact. To this day, I try to make up for the promises I have broken.

I just wonder why we (as a people) continue to over-promise by default. Give me the truth up front. Every. Time. It’s the trust that matters the most in every relationship we have. Trust in me. And give me every reason, and opportunity, to trust in you.

Don’t promise me something you can’t live up to.