Senator's Wife Assaults Woman with Peat Moss

[fintstone]

Boy those democrats are sure hotheads!
http://www.nbc4.com/news/3028550/detail.html

[island911]

"Mrs. Baucus was upset because another customer was getting help with mulch ahead of her."



Ah yes, the dem's, not allowing anyone else be a head with mulch. . .. when they know that place belongs to them.
Such fertile minds those dem's have.

[BlueSkyJaunte]

It's a dirty job, being the wife of a Democrat.

[Zeke]

Reminds me of Jack Nicolson getting out of his car and beating another car with a golf club. I thought that was hilarious.

Somehow I think the other woman deserved getting punched out, but certainly I don't know the particulars. It just seems that when thngs escalate to that point, that both parties are culpable.

Unfortunately, with public rage on the rise due to the 'too-many-rats-in-the-cage' syndrome, this has become more common place. Half the time I'm on the edge and would not be reluctant to engage in an altercation with some of the idiots in the world. It's gotten to be a very rude world.

Let me ask a question and hijack this thread since this is not particularly a important piece of news. It costs me about $200 in business time to produce an estimate for a simple home improvment project. Those projects involving more complex operations can run much higher. In light of this, I think I am owed the decency of a reply of acceptance or rejection. No one ever calls to say thanks but we are selecting someone else. After 30 years, I've become seriously jaded. Right or wrong?

Of course, I am never able to recoup these lost dollars, but people just don't realize what it takes to produce an estimate. Some will take in several, costing hundreds of business dollars just to satisfy their quest to wring out a few cents. Most get what they pay for.

Sorry for the hijack. At anyone's suggestion, I will delete this psot and start a new thread.

[RickM]

Originally posted by Zeke
Let me ask a question and hijack this thread since this is not particularly a important piece of news. It costs me about $200 in business time to produce an estimate for a simple home improvment project. Those projects involving more complex operations can run much higher. In light of this, I think I am owed the decency of a reply of acceptance or rejection. No one ever calls to say thanks but we are selecting someone else. After 30 years, I've become seriously jaded. Right or wrong?

Milt, It works both ways. I'm sure many here, including you, have had a contractor of some type come to size-up some work and then you never hear from them again....regardless of how many messages you leave with their answering service. This has happened quite a few times to me, my family and many aquaintances.

My take is that some (most?) homeowners may feel guilty of "wasting" your time if they select someone else. So to spare themselves and you from the possible/perceived confrontation they don't call.

Is this right? No, but I'd think you'd be pretty used to it.

[fintstone]

Typical for a liberal to fight dirty.

[Zeke]

Originally posted by fintstone
Typical for a liberal to fight dirty.

Back on topic and that is too funny. Maybe I should carry some peat moss around in little bags and throw it at people.

"Cut in front of me, you worm? Here take this...........(ploopff)!!"

[island911]

I suppose this is the political season for the gloves to come off . . . the senators wives gardengloves, that is.

[MFAFF]

That's the nature of the business..

Its not fair but that's the way the construction inustry works.
When we take projects to tender we know that of the list of tenderers, each will spend a huge amount of time and money preparing bids. We also know that only one will get the job, the others get nothing other than a letter of thanks for their offer but no thanks...

As I see it, and from Contractors I know its factored into their overall costs.
So in effect if we select a Contractor A for job X, we know that some of the money we will pay him is to make up for that contractor not getting jobs Y and Z.

As for acknowlegement of a bid or rejection, if you submit one at the request of an individual you are entirely justified in chasing them and finding out whether or not the quote was acceptable or not, and if so why not...

We spend lots of time making sure our recommendations to Clients are clear and objective. That way if at some stage a potential Contractor wants to know why they were not selected for the job they know why.

However we have the 'luxury' of being paid to do this as well. Personnally I do the same for any contractors I hire as a private individual....you never know when you are going to need back -up.

Just my 2cents worth.

[304065]

In my view this incident and the RFQ process frustrations you are describing are simply two dimensions of the same problem, which quite simply is a LACK OF PERSONAL COURTESY. Even an attempt to explain why from a psychological perspective would fill a library, but in my opinion and experience it is the result of NARCISSISM: the vast majority of folks, for whatever reason, perceive themselves as SO DAMNED IMPORTANT that they cannot be bothered to extend TWO SECONDS of courtesy to make life easier.

In the case of the Senator's wife, it appears to have been present on both sides, if the article is accurate. Does anyone else believe that the Senator's wife should be held TO A HIGHER STANDARD by virtue of her association with a member of the legislature? Personally I think she should try to SET AN EXAMPLE in the community and rise above such behavior.

Is there ever a reason why a dispute over PEAT MOSS has to turn into FISTICUFFS? I have a friend who was hit in the forehead with a bottle by some whacko who took it upon himself to jump the coat check line at a saloon we used to frequent.

Assault and battery is one thing: bearing false witness to the police shows disrespect for the legal process and is a much more serious violation, in my view. Were I the assaulted party I would use all legal means at my disposal, civil and criminal, to bring her to justice.

[Overpaid Slacker]

I've still got the scar from that bottle. I took two of 'em out, though, before the guy suckerbottled me. If I hadn't gotten my arm up at the last instant, it would've been gruesome. Now that was an evening!

This smells awfully like a "Don't you know who I AM!?!?" incident. Well, we all know now that Ms. Baucus is a no-class C U Next Tuesday.

JP

[island911]

yeah, Lynn, a senators wife dishing out body-blows. . ..those ratings are sure trump the liberal bias.

[island911]

Originally posted by Overpaid Slacker
I've still got the scar from that bottle. I took two of 'em out, though, before the guy suckerbottled me.
. . .

why am I thinking this happened right after a battle of the wits?

[BlueSkyJaunte]

Unfortunately, with public rage on the rise due to the 'too-many-rats-in-the-cage' syndrome, this has become more common place. Half the time I'm on the edge and would not be reluctant to engage in an altercation with some of the idiots in the world. It's gotten to be a very rude world.

We could learn a lot from the Japanese. They could also learn a lot from us, though.

[RickM]

I wonder how Ms. Baucus would do against Hillary.

I say a cage match is on order.

[Overpaid Slacker]

Island -- LOL
Cramer (who was actually trying to de-escalate the situation!) could probably provide some of the lyrics, but the libretto went something like this:

Scene: New York City; Louisiana Community Bar & Grill; Broadway and Houston, circa 2:30 am, smoky, dim, rowdy, crowded and a bit sultry in that "it's wintery outside and there are way too many people in here" way.

After the prologue, during which things heated up somehow... this jerk said something I'm sure he thought was very witty to my back; I turned around and dropped a tactical nuclear word bomb on him. Oh, and I probably smirked.

Outplayed, he shoves me back into the coat area; I lean forward, smiling, hands at my side and quickly break his nose with my forehead (he was a few inches shorter than me). Buddy #1 comes up to grapple, I get him by the neck and arm and hit his head on the bar, barstool and foot rail on the way to taking him to the ground; as I stand up, out of the corner of my eye, I see something coming at my head, put my left arm up and stop the arm, but only decelerate the bottle it's swinging.

Now, I've got a gash above my left eye and, I swear to God, it was like viewing the world through the Terminator's p/o/v ... "Now you're allowed to KILL him" in green computer-type font is overlaid on my field of view. I just got the bastard and was about to pull out his larynx (really.. I was pissed) when the largest paw known to homo sapiens gets me in the chest and shoves me off of my feet (I'm close to too-fiddy at this point) 8 feet back into the coats. The ursine bouncer decided, at my moment of bloodlust and justifiable homicide, to intervene (probably for the better...). "Jesus Christ!" the bouncer says "What, were you hitting on one of their girlfriends or something?" "{blank stare on my part} Uh, no... I was waiting for my coat." At this, the coatcheck/bartendress says "Yeah, Charlie, he was just standing here waiting for his coat."

(I have to confess that many of the details regarding the foregoing were not entirely clear until I went back to LCBG - I place I frequented and was known in - a few nights later and the barstaff re-enacted the scene for me. For example I didn't realize there were 3 guys at first, to be honest. The role of JP was played by a particularly buxom petite brunette bartender whom I fancied, so it was a particularly riveting tale.)

Cramer accompanies me up to the Lenox Hill ER, and I get the same doc I'd had a few months before when my hand needed sewing up. I was a bit foggy due to blood/alcohol loss at this point, but I'm pretty sure my first words to him were "Hey again Doc! Wow! You've put on some *weight*!" If I opened w/ that, it probably got worse, which explains the scar, now that I think about it. I remember being under some 1950's-era Soviet-surplus X-ray machine also...

Naturally, the following Monday at work I told everybody I was changing a ceiling light bulb and the fixture fell on my head.

jCf, if you've got the lyrics, sing it, baby.

JP

EDIT -- I misspelled "alcohol" -- that's some kind of sign, but I haven't figured it out yet.

[304065]

The details ARE fuzzy, a combination of the inexorable mist of time and the fact that multiple Long Island Iced Teas had been consumed that evening before the fun began.

My recollection is that we were all waiting in line for coats at the end of a thoroughly entertaining alcohol-soaked evening. JP was near the coat check, waiting patiently: I had already retrieved mine and was engrossed in an intense discussion with our group about The Coase Theorem or other popular subject.

Chucklehead #1 attempts to cut the line and retrieve his coat, cutting in front of a number of ladies. JP, ever the gentleman, politely put his arm up to the corner of the bar as if to suggest that Chucklehead #1's life-crippling lack of manners would be tolerated better elsewhere. I then turned back to celebrating my own wit in the usual style until all hell broke loose.

Those of you who have been in a bar fight know that it's not like in the movies, where two men stand toe-to-toe hurling oaths at each other, then put up their dukes like the Marquess of Queensbury and have at it. One moment there was nothing, then literally one second of violence, then things were calm again. I looked over to the bar to see blood running all over JP's face, white shirt and solid green tie. Shocked, I stood agape for a second before trying to come to his aid, but "Tiny," the 400 pound bouncer, was separating the parties.

Chucklehead #1 had moved back from the bar: he too had blood gushing from some kind of wound on the side of his head, up near the scalp. "Let's take it outside, I want to finish this [expletive] off!" he howled. He was accosted by the bouncer who dragged him out the front door.

After getting a couple hundred paper bar napkins to staunch the mixture of Jim Beam and Diet Coke that was gushing from an nastly looking laceration above JP's eye, we went out the back door, hailed a cab on Houston (How-Ston for you readers unfamiliar with the orthographization of Lower Manhattan streets).

We checked in to the ER at Lenox Hill, where JP was evidently a repeat customer: I swear I heard the admitting doc say something like, "Hey JP." After an inconceivably short waiting period of 45 minutes or so, we were admitted to the surgical room, where the doctor then proceeded to swab out the wound with betadine and one of those cotton things the concours guys use to clean the air conditioning vents. The doctor said somthing like, "You aren't going to whine like a 13-year-old girl, are you?" whereupon JP was quiescent even while Dr. Frankenputz probed the gash to remove any glass fragments.

We got home at 4:30 ayem. Such was our life as single lawyers in New York.

[island911]

Originally posted by Overpaid Slacker
. .
Oh, and I probably smirked.
. . ..

ROFL
Oh and how the Neanderthal are baited by the smirk.

.. not that i would know anything about it.

Thanks for the rest of the story, JP

edit;fixes from laughing too hard to type

[Overpaid Slacker]

I think he said "You aren't going to whine like a 13-year-old girl again, are you?"

JP

[304065]

They subsequently closed that bar: I like to think it was because all the good times had already been had.

Do you remember what it said behind the bar? Something like "laissez les bon temps roulez." And roll they did.