I love when life just hands me things like I deserve some shit to come to me gift wrapped. Like I don’t have all this fucking karma farming over here in left field, just waiting for me to start the tilling.
It makes me feel like I’m making some headway. Like I’m really getting somewhere, and St. Pete had better watch his bitch ass step. Y’all know once I am good with the Big Man, I’m cutting loose.
I probably need to farm some extra, then. I see that shit going poorly at best.
On to the news and enough of my internal Catholic struggle with damnation.
If you’ve been reading my syndica-
Wait, wait a minute. I fucked that up. As I’m sure you’ve all been reading my syndicated column over on The Good Men Project, where your girl gets to be a big shot author and talk of shit with real merit to society, unlike my talks of Fuckboys and riding out hurricanes I discuss here, then you’re abreast of this week’s column.
It was the one on the HCSO Deputy, Abigail Bieber, who was murdered by her cop boyfriend, because she was breaking shit off with him. He murdered her, then killed himself.
I had a real bee in my fucking bonnet because the Tampa Bay Times ran the story with a Suicide Hotline flag and help box, marking this a distressed officer situation, but it was a giant domestic violence homicide in flashing lights. It pissed me off that they were ignoring the shit done to Abby, and they were badge of honoring her killer.
I said my piece, then published it, then it hit The GMP.
At the beginning of this week, Abigail Bieber’s father emailed me. And we talked, he was pleased with my take on the column, and we discussed a lot of the points that I initially was mad about to begin with.
And down the rabbit hole I went. All the way to the man who trains law enforcement in domestic violence prevention techniques within their ranks and in the public. I felt like I spoke to Jesus himself, because this is the heavy hitter pulling for us, ladies. And it was an honor to interview him and get his perspective and pick his brain.
Needless to say, I’ll be doing some work in this area, because what I found out from Mr. Bieber sickened me. As we know, domestic violence is a slow escalation scenario in the majority of cases. The man who killed Abigail Bieber had been violent with multiple former partners and had held a gun to the head of the most recent of them.
Of course, we know what happened with Abby, and that just…man, I really don’t even fucking have the words right now.
I’m sure you see where I am going with this. If not, you will when I start asking people to own their culpability, because you cannot tell me a cop who beats on every girlfriend he has, and threatens to kill some of them, hasn’t had someone make a complaint about him. Cops hang out together. Y’all know my brother was one. I know the drill.
There’s no fucking way that someone didn’t know something. I’ll never believe that.
Anyway, I’ve been doing a lot of research and shit, I’ve not been sitting around Olaplexing my hair these past couple of days. I also dove into some training material sent to me by Mark Wynn, domestic violence prevention Jesus mentioned earlier. I hope to become twice the advocate I am now and am putting in the work to do so.
Can I just tell y’all, I’ve never been prouder of something I had the balls to stand up and say? I’ve never been more completely and totally proud of who I am. Like, this shit is a good look for me. Fearless, and mission driven, and on point with the direction I want this work to go.
I mean, I’ll never stop talking Fuckboys, but it’s worthwhile to pause for the cause. Do something with some merit. Really dig some shit outta the trenches and handle it.
So that’s the long and short of it. Finna put myself right back on the cop radar and pick a fight with a whole fucking sheriff’s department, but you only fucking live once, right?
It’s not in my nature to just let the sleeping dog lie. I have to wake his ass up and boop his snoot. So, here’s to some snoot booping, and I’ll see y’all on the other side of it. Hopefully with some answers, but at minimum, some more bitches for the back row.
*waves well-manicured hand in the direction of those hos in the back row* Um, y’all slide the fuck over please. Y’all don’t see them holsters and whatnot they have to fit onto that fucking row? Shit.
If y'all happened to need a few spare bits of Right and Proper Bitchface (doubtful but..) I do have a bit of extra laying about in my salt jar.
Now my very first question to that PD DV trainer would be something on the order of.. (brace yourself cause it's a LuLu)..
If this idgit was KNOWN to be prone to violence with with his girlfriends then (precisely please) exactly what the ever loving fuckballs was his boss doing in allowing him to carry a wet noodle for lashing.. much less a gun?
I mean.. I'm an Engineer and all so I can see where the Root Cause Analysis might be missed by mere mortals, but in this case it seems blatantly obvious that any idgit whos KNOWN for beating on *cough* loved ones shouldn't be allowed to carry so much as a wet noodle.
Carrying a gun? Um.. no and hell the fuck no.
Proudly points southward, tells the world "that's my sis!" ❤