How Does This Even Happen?

Sometimes, I hear of a story that is just so odd that I don't know how to feel about it. On the one hand, it's probably terrible what a certain person did. On the other hand, if that person couldn't have committed their terrible act without complicit involvement from the "victims", am I still supposed to feel bad? I'm not sure. And in this case, it's so freaking weird that I'm just all confused.

Our story takes place in the quiet West Wales village of Cwmduad, near Carmarthen. Let's just call it the UK. A guy named Reginald Gill came up with a plan. Now, just because it's a "plan" doesn't mean that it should have had any chance at all of succeeding. That it did succeed is completely astounding and believe me, I will delve into that later. But according to The Daily Mail, Mr. Gill had a business that involved the peddling of homeopathic products and treatments. It was in this practice that he was also passing himself off as a doctor. And as in his capacity as a fake doctor in a store full of hokum, he came up with what I can only describe as the stupidest idea ever. Then again, it did work, so what do I know?

Here's what he did: This guy told women that they had breast cancer. Horrible, right? But then, he told them that he had a cure! Oh, yay! (Yeah, you know it's not gonna be real, right? Ok, good.) And the cure that he proposed was for him, the "doctor", to suck on their breasts for thirty minutes a day! Now, I don't know if that's thirty minutes each or thirty minutes total. I guess that it's probably just 30 minutes on the allegedly afflicted bosom. But that's not the craziest part. No, the craziest part is that at least three women agreed to this!

Listen, in the age of the Internet, why you would just automatically agree to have a seventy-seven year old dude start suckling on you like a new born calf? Actually, in the realm of consciousness, why wouldn't you, at the very least, get a second opinion? You don't think to yourself, "Hmmm. Well, that's a little unconventional. I've never heard of such a treatment. And it sounds perverse. I wonder if I should get another opinion?" That never crosses your mind? Not ONCE?! What is wrong with you?

Somehow, this gets out. I guess there was at least one woman who received a fake diagnosis and an even faker treatment plan and decided that perhaps it be best for her to alert some sort of authority to the matter. He goes to trial and is found guilty and sentenced to eight years. I don't know what the typical jail sentence is for something like this, but I'm not going to argue with eight years. And really, I'm not so sure that he should be going to jail at all. Maybe if he had played his cards better...

Wait! Just hear me out! He could have told the judge, "Look...I came up with an absolutely stupid idea. Perhaps, the stupidest idea that's ever been thought up. It shouldn't have worked on anyone ever! How is the fact that it worked my problem? This was a bad plan! It is laughable that anyone would have fallen for it! That they did, I don't see how that's my fault! Your Honor." And if he had said that, he would have been right! It takes two! How do those women, those clueless, gullible, softheaded women, how do they not share any of the blame! If you think about it, none of this could have ever happened without their help. I'm just sayin'.

And accompanying this guy to jail will be his 35-year old wife! What is her deal? She's married to a weirdo who is 42 years older than her (and not in a good way) and she goes along with this little plot?! How does that work? Does he present her with his patently stupid idea (that never should have succeeded on anyone ever) and she just says, "Let me get this straight. You want to pretend that you're a doctor and tell women that they have breast cancer when they really don't so that you can suck on their boobs when you tell them that's the cure...I'M IN!"

I'm telling ya, I'd like to talk to everyone involved in this fiasco. Just for like ten minutes each. I have several concise questions that I'm dying to ask the willing participants in this lunacy! Granted, most of them start with "WTF", but there are some variances.

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That's Not A Doctor

I'm always amazed when I hear stories about fake doctors or dentists who have been operating a "practice" out of their garage or their kitchen or something like that. Someone trying to pretend that they're a doctor doesn't surprise me. People actually going to a fake doctor and seeing that their waiting room is a backyard patio and then sticking around for them to do their fake doctoring are the ones who amaze me. Because the way I see it, you can't be a successful fake doctor without at least a few willing participants. Take this dealio that happened in, naturally, Florida.

According to the Daily Mail, a one Oneal Ron Morris is accused of "...injecting a woman's bottom with cement, super glue and tyre sealant to give her a more 'shapely' rear". Wait a minute. How would those things give someone a better looking ass? Tire sealant? Is that Fix-A-Flat?! Just because someone has a flat ass doesn't mean that inflating it with a chemical sealant is going to work! And someone actually hired this guy? I can't imagine why. Maybe he just has one of those faces that you can trust. Yeah, maybe that's it. Oh. Wait. Here's a picture of him. Yeah, that's not it. Behold!
Hold on. That's a dude?! In what way is that a dude?! And if it is a guy, what is wrong with his ass?! Are we sure this is him? We are? Is there another picture just so we can be sure? There is? Behold!


Oh, well, that's not helping. Holy canoli, look at the size of that thing. That's not normal for a man OR a woman (or whatever that is). So let me get this straight. Someone goes to this "guy" for a butt enhancement. The allegedly male "doctor" comes out looking like this and the patient STILL goes through with it?! Are you kidding me?! WHY on earth would you let this individual do ANYTHING to you? If I were looking to have my buttocks enhanced (and I'm not, thanks) and this dude came walking out, I'd run out of his garage so fast. Wow. And I'm guessing that his "patient" is surprised that something went horribly wrong after her "procedure". I'm thinking that person can be anything but surprised. Surprise should be reserved for when one of these fake doctors does something like this and nothing overly bad happens. That's the surprising part.

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61, Do I Hear 62?

Today brings us another look at our old (literally) friend, Ella Orko. Orko, as you may or may not care to remember, is an 86-year old woman with a colorful past and an extremely long and storied career as a professional thief. Her occupation has netted her recognition in the form of an arrest at least 61 times since 1956 and her vivid imagination has allowed her to come up with about 50 aliases, which almost amounts to giving a different name every time she was arrested, give or take about eleven. It's unfortunate she couldn't have put her talents to work doing something besides ripping people off her whole life, but she's 86 now. I highly doubt, at this point, she's going to be taking some classes at the community college to learn a new trade.

This woman came to our attention when Ms. Orko was arrested for stealing $252 worth of a variety of items ranging from packaged salmon (5 packs) to AA batteries (11 packs) to instant coffee (4 jars) to about the one thing that you'd think that an 86-year old woman would steal - anti-wrinkle cream (2 boxes of one brand and 8 boxes of another brand, I believe). She went to court just the other day to answer for this charge and it sounds like it was quite the scene.

She shows up to court like she's supposed to, only she's in a wheelchair and wearing a neck brace! Clearly, when you're someone who has been arrested 61 times, you know that you're not going to be able to play the poor, frail, feeble, elderly woman act and get away with it. No, you're going to need some props. And while I understand the strategy, I don't understand the choice of props. Come on, woman! You were caught shoplifting! Did you have that wheelchair THEN? I don't think you did! And the neck brace? For reals? Did someone rear end you in a car that you had stolen? What was that all about?

She even played as if she were hard of hearing. I don't know what that was supposed to do other than perhaps induce the sympathy factor from the judge. It's not like she could pretend that she didn't hear him and they would just give up and let her go. Fortunately, the judge, a one Honorable Marvin P. Luckman, wasn't buying it. His words? "I've been doing this for a lot of years. She's an actress."

According to CBS2Chicago she "was originally charged with a felony, but prosecutors agreed to reduce the charge to a misdemeanor in exchange for her guilty plea." Right. Because what if she had a felony on her record? That would be terrible! Then she'd always have to check that little box that says "Have you ever been convicted of a felony?" on every form that she filled out. That might hinder her from getting a job! It could affect her for the rest of her life! Well, what's left of it.

Even as the judge was shouting in the courtroom, Ms. Orko played up the whole "I'm deaf" facade by mumbling, "I can't hear too good." You don't speak too "good" either. Shocking, I know. Though a man clear in the back row said that he could hear the judge just fine when he was asked, Ms. Orko, right there in front of the judge, claimed deafness. And the judge, not knowing if she was serious, but suspecting that she wasn't, took the matter to the most reasonable level that I can think of. He got off the bench, stood directly in front of her and then bellowed at her, "Do . . . you . . . have . . . any . . . questions?!" MOST excellent.

It's hard to tell if Ms. Orko was embarrassed by the judge's purposeful shouting or if she was merely indifferent, but she did say, in response to his shouted question, "No. Very seldom would some judge [step off the bench]. Thank you so much." And she would know if judges did something often or did something very seldom. She's in court often enough to make that assessment quite accurately, I'd imagine.

She ended up being sentenced to two days in jail, which she had already done after her arrest, so she was credited with time served and released. Apparently she had last been convicted (for retail theft - shocking, I know) in 2006 and served time in prison until sometime in 2007 when she was paroled. Now, I don't know if she was on parole at the time of her arrest, but if so, you'd kind of think that she'd be breaking the terms of her parole, wouldn't you? But really, even if she was, is it going to do anyone any good to send this 86-year old woman to prison again?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that she shouldn't be held accountable for stealing things (nor am I saying that she should just keep on stealing, because she shouldn't. Yeah, that should have stopped about 53 years ago!), but I'm saying that during the time that she has left, I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up getting caught more frequently than she has in her past. You know, what with the neck brace and wheelchair and all. If she has been arrested 61 times since 1956, I think it's fair to say that she has probably gotten away with stealing stuff a whole hell of a lot more times than she has been caught stealing stuff. And that has to be one heck of a life to have had (and not in a good way). In a case like this, instead of having her plead guilty to the misdemeanor, I have a different idea.

Tell you what, cupcake, we'll drop the charges in exchange for you sitting down and doing an hour, maybe an hour and a half, interview, but not with a cop or a professional shrink or anything like that. I'm thinking more like local talk show host or newspaper columnist. Someone who can just pick your brain with the typical questions (What was your family like? How was your childhood? Blah, blah, blah.), but also pepper it with some of the atypical questions (Do you watch the Home Shopping Network? How about COPS? Why not just get a job? Did you steal from your mother? Did she steal from you? Was it a generally steal-y family? Did you ride the rails like a hobo in the 1930s?). I think the sociological information gathered from something like that would be much more informative and useful than having her sit in jail for however long.I know that guys always seem to have these "women in prison" fantasies where all of the female inmates are always having pillow fights in their bra and panties (and always with the possibility that they might/probably end up kissing), but do you really want to have her added to the mix of imaginary real-life scenarios in your head? I didn't think so.

Thus, an interview it is! In the meantime, get a job, Granny. Perhaps maybe you could do some acting, just like that nice judge suggested.

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Who Nose?

As if the Michael Jackson tale couldn't get any stranger, now we have this fairly questionable, definitely, shameful, headline in the New York Post and accompanying story which will be first reported in Rolling Stone: JACKO'S FAKE NOSE 'MISSING'

Good Lord. Is this one of the signs of the apocalypse? It must be. Are you kidding me? Nose? Fake? And missing?! Holy cats, that's a bad day right there. The reporting on this is not much better. Then again, we're talking about a dead guy with a fake nose that is currently AWOF (Absent With Out Face).

From the NY Post: "Michael Jackson wore a prosthetic nose...and it was missing from his surgically mangled face as he lay in an LA morgue." Now, as odd as that may seem, the guy was a HUGE fan of plastic surgery. If there was a Facebook Fan Page for 'Plastic Surgery' (and I have no reason to believe that there is not), he would have checked "Am A Fan" in a second. And while it says that the nose was "missing from his...face", that account appears to have been relayed to Rolling Stone (apparently) by "witnesses who saw the King of Pop's body on the autopsy table." Witnesses. Wait. Witnesses?

You mean "those who are witnessing"? THOSE kind of witnesses? Um, would it be too much trouble for someone to explain WHY the LA morgue is allowing witnesses in it's, uh, um, cold rooms for dead people? I'm kind of under the impression that MOST morgues, aside from employees, tend to be witness-free. And if you could only pick ONE morgue in the entire country that would not be able to have witnesses roaming about, I'm thinking you'd pick the LA one! What with celebrities dropping dead all of the time? You don't need a bunch of witnesses coming in and out of the place, as they'd probably bring the paparazzi with them.

From the Rolling Stone via the NY Post: "Left behind was a small, dark hole surrounded by bits of cartilage." Wow. So descriptive. Those witnesses really must be telling the truth! They gave details and everything. Hey. Wait a minute. That's what MY face would look like if you removed MY nose! That's what EVERYONE'S face would look like if you removed their nose! There would be a hole! Most likely "small" and "dark"! Are you sure his HEAD wasn't a prosthetic as well? Maybe there's a description of him without his head that would solidify the credibility of such a claim. "We saw a neck. It was stump like without a noggin attached. It appeared to be made of human flesh." Sold!

Continuing with the theme of Bad Tabloid Reporting, "Jackson, who was notoriously shy about his appearance, wore the prosthetic to mask the effects of decades of plastic surgery, according to the magazine, due to hit newsstands today (July 24, 2009)." I'm not so sure that he wore the fake nose to "mask the effects of decades of plastic surgery", nor am I convinced it was because he was "notoriously shy". No, I'm thinking we wore the fake nose because, as the term "fake nose" would imply, he DIDN'T HAVE ONE! I'd be "notoriously shy" about MY noseless appearance ALSO!

I'd never even heard of the possibility that one could have a fake nose until I read this highly questionable account of Jacko's nose. We've all seen pictures of Jackson de-masked, sans mask, without a mask. While odd looking, I don't detect that his nose is fake. You'd be doing nothing other than applying make-up to keep it concealed. Your face moves around A LOT during the day. You'd have to glue on an entire face shield that was one solid piece so that there wouldn't be any detectable lines indicating where you screwed your schnozz on that morning. How long would that take? To glue on a new face every day? I'm thinking a while. How many of those glue sticks would that require? I guess cost wasn't really an issue for Jacko, but these are the sorts of things I think about. And then I write them here.

But really, if you were going to have a prosthetic nose, would you seriously choose any of the ones that he HAS had?! I don't think you would! Choose. You're telling me you'd CHOOSE that? You'd OPT for a nose that looked like a ski jump? No you wouldn't! And you wouldn't choose this one either! Behold!

Or this!
Or this!


Certainly not this!

This guy is like Mr. Potato Head - The Olfactory Edition

Here's the main reason I'm not so sure that I buy this account from the alleged witnesses. The body would go to the morgue after it had croaked at the hospital. If you're not just a witness, but also an employee of said morgue, and if you had perhaps overheard on that day that the rumor was that Michael Jackson had died, would you NOT be taking your cell phone camera to work with you? They don't allow cell phones in that area of the morgue? Wouldn't you take a minute to think about how much money a photo like that would be worth? And then wouldn't you immediately be online, scouring Google and trying to find out where is the closest place that you can buy the smallest hidden camera possible and then scurry off to work with it? I'm thinking, unless you're one of those folks who WANTS to work in a morgue for the rest of their life, there'd be no reason for you to not take that course of action. There certainly wouldn't be much of an explicable reason as to why you'd NOT take a picture of something like that, but you WOULD chat with Rolling Stone for a bit and have them just write it up in their magazine. Did I mention that US Magazine paid $500,000 for that picture of Jacko in the ambulance? The one that they had on their cover? Yep. $500k. See my point? Screw Rolling Stone. Exactly.

I don't know that we'll ever really know the answer to this one, and I certainly don't think that we necessarily need to. But I'm betting at least a couple of noses that this is all a bunch of crap and isn't true. Fun to speculate, but likely untrue. We can only hopel.

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ER = Endless Returns

I'm fairly certain that when the founding fathers laid the framework for this nation that they didn't envision folks that would spend a considerable amount of time looking for loopholes in the system and trying to find ways to take advantage of the generosity that is offered and afforded to all people in this country. A reasonable thought, mind you. You don't want to think that there are some "people" out there who are not content with what is offered to them enough to the point where they actually DO something THEMSELVES to change it and instead choose to take advantage of what is offered to them, usually at the expense of those who are offering it in the first place. Nice way to say "thank you", eh?

Case in point would be the tale of a one Ricky Alardo as told by the The New York Post. It would seem that Ricky (who calls himself Ricky Ricado probably because Ricky the Bum isn't quite as flamboyant) is without a home, but IS with vodka! That's nothing new, but what WAS new to me was how Ricky manages to land himself a free meal and a place to sleep. He calls 911.

What now?

Correct. According to the NY Post, "...four or five times a week (he) phones 911" and then the ambulance shows up to "chauffeur him to the hospital for a free meal and a warm place to sleep." And it's all free and clear for ol' Ricky because his nearly nightly getaways are at the "...courtesy of taxpayers who fund his Medicaid benefits." What in the hell is wrong with people?

Ricky Retardo is 53. For a larger scope of how often he has been abusing the system, we have a quote from a medic who if familiar with him and his antics. He says, "When Ricky passes on, I'll probably even go to his funeral. I've seen him almost every day for the last 13 years." Oh. My. God.

Oh, don't get me wrong, it's not like Ricky Retardo isn't appreciative. According to the NY Post "An inebriated Alardo lauded the medics last week, saying they "treat me like a king." " Hmmm....a king, eh? Don't kings get de-throned in a wild coup by the villagers and have their noggin lopped off on occasion? What KING of a king should be be treated like in this scenario? One wonders.

The best part? The law says that the EMS workers HAVE to tend to these guys. They HAVE to take them to the hospital. They HAVE to treat them at the hospital. And by "treat" I mean that they HAVE to give them the "minimum". The "minimum" is pretty attractive for people like Ricky Retardo there. After all, it includes "...vitamins, showers, hot food and a bed" for their homeless patients. Are you kidding me? I didn't get all of that until I was out of college?!?! HOT FOOD??? Freshman year I practically lived on JUST cereal! (OK, cereal and beer, but we're not talking about me here!)

Maybe if it just stopped at those items it would be more palpable. I mean, it wouldn't, but maybe I wouldn't be quite as angry if that's all that was happening. Since the law is that they have to be seen by someone at the hospital, even that brief eyeballing that the doctor or whomever gives to them can lead them to schedule other procedures. X-rays, cardiograms, MRIs, etc. And if something comes up in any of those, then there is the inevitable medicine that is prescribed. Costly, eh? YES!! And Medicaid (aka YOU AND ME) is paying for it!!

The thing is, as Medicaid does (or doesn't do) it doesn't pay nearly enough for all of this. They'll fork over $175 for an ER visit that it the basic minimum (you know, with the hot food and the showers and all). And that ambulance ride? You may be aware that ambulances these days are rather sophisticated. It's not like they're being hauled around in the back of a flat bed truck. Average cost of an ambulance ride is around $800. Medicaid picks up around $186. I'll do the math for you and let you know that's NOT ENOUGH!! But wait, here's a little more math, this time from the NY Post: These beligerant antics of this one moron add up to (for just Ricky himself) and "...cost the state $300,000 a year." Oh, and he's been doing this like this for about 13 years! That comes to right around $3.9 million. Dollars. US dollars. And by "US" I mean yours and mine! US!! OUR dollars! And that $3.9 million is essentially being spent on absolutely nothing at all simply because one A-hole is too damn lazy to take care of himself and get a freaking JOB and a place to live. Not only is he too damn lazy, but he's also so freaking arrogant as to not think that the consequences of having no job and no place to live should apply to him and so he takes the generosity of the people and spits it back in their faces by taking advantage of anything and everything he can without any regard to the effect it has on other people. What a selfish bastard. (Oh, whoops. Did I say that outloud? Sorry.)

It's not like Ricky is the only one pulling this scam either. Take a one 40-year old Homeless Robert who "...has called 911 as many as 50 times since becoming homeless three years ago." His deal is that he would "...tell the 911 operator he had chest pains or was suicidal." WHAT?!?! I'M suicidal just READING about this crap!! I'M not calling 911!!! Are you kidding me?? THAT warrants an ambulance?? Look, if you're telling someone you're suicidal, you're clearly NOT suicidal. If you were, you'd be too busy to call 911! Busy with all of the suicide!!

But don't get too worried about Homeless Suicidal Robert. He told the NY Post "I'm not really suicidal." Oh, whew! What a relief! For a minute there, I thought he really WAS! (Translation: No I didn't.)

For Homeless Fake Suicidal Robert it took an $800 per ride ambulance driver to chew him out before he "...stopped his 911 habit." Now, Homeless Fake Suicidal Chewed Out Robert says "I haven't called an ambulance for about a month." A month. Congratulations, moron. We're thrilled that you've stopped spending the taxpayer dollar for your own personal homeless indulgences of free green Jell-O and an adjustable bed.

Meanwhile, President Barry and the folks over there on Capitol Hill want to redo the entire health care system to "make it affordable" for everyone. And as long as there are loopholes like the ones that Ricky Retardo and Homeless Robert have made it a hobby to exploit, how is that going to help? I don't think it is! Perhaps instead of just starting over from scratch (which is kind of what they sound like they want to do) maybe they should first look at WHY costs are so high and what can be done about people like Ricky Retardo here. Root out a little fraud and abuse first and then go from there? What a novel idea!

Seriously. There HAS to be an answer for this. I have NO idea what it is though. None. But I'm open to suggestions.

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Missing: Toothless, Tattooed Toddler

It's a Christmas miracle! Well, not really. But that sounded a whole lot better than "It's Christmas time stupidity!" Since I know that the folks who are reading this aren't morons, here's a little tip for them to pass along to people that they know who are morons. We all know some. I'll even phrase it as if the moron is right in front of me. "Moron, sit down. Now, listen Moron, if you ever come up with an idea that involves deceit....what's that? What does 'deceit' mean? Oh, right. You're a moron. Sorry, I'll try to keep the vocabulary down. Moron, if you ever think of an idea that involves tricking other people and you think that you can pull it off because you're just soooo smart, please don't. Just don't. You might think you have a foolproof plan there, Moron, and no one will be able to crack your code. But see, you're a moron. So if you think you're smarter than everyone else, well, you think so not because you actually are smarter than everyone else, but because you're a moron. So just forget about all of the trickery and try something else. Something less tricky."

Enter Florida! Christmas time idiocy was in full swing on Christmas. According to CBS 4 in Miami, whose report on this story could be interpreted as its own form of idiocy as well, the parents of a six-month old child (who was last seen by them with his nanny on December 23rd) reported said child missing on the 24th of December. The woman, Meagan McCormick, said that she last saw her child, a one Riley Archer Buchness, on the 23rd when the child was being cared for by the nanny. The nanny, who had babysat for McCormick for several months and was deemed "responsible" by her, is a woman named Camille who, according to McCormick, "is about 20 to 30 years old with an unknown last name and speaks with a heavy French accent. She is a white, 5 feet 5 inches tall, 130 pounds, very long brown hair, brown eyes, and a gap between her teeth." Uh-huh. Oh, did I mention that she knew what street the "nanny" lived on, but had never been to her house? Yeah, that's what was said. Do you see where this is going? Maybe. Maybe not.

The child was described as being "...about a foot tall, white...wearing a white onesie with blue jeans. His hair is in a mohawk style, he has one tooth, and a fake tattoo on his left arm of an anchor." Uh-huh. He sounds kind of like a trailer park, midget version of Popeye. A foot tall? Twelve inches? That's IT?! How did this farce make the news in the first place?! The average length of a human when it's finally forcibly expelled out of the uterus of the female host is between 17 and 22 inches. This kid was supposed to be six months old and was a towering twelve inches? Why, yes! Of course he was! (By the way, is it just assumed that everyone, including myself, is going to know what in the hell a "onesie" is? Because I have no clue. None. If it's some sort of one piece outfit that babies wear, then tell me that! They don't have to go getting all "cutsie" on us and calling it a "onesie". After all, we're NOT the child. You can give it a more grown up (or common) name and we'll catch on!) If the picture that was circulated is any indication, he's also armless as well! Behold!

Now, so far we have a nanny without a last name, that lives on a street (that much has been determined) and "for months" has babysat this woman's six-month old, twelve inch tall, mohawk sporting, nearly toothless child with a fake anchor tattoo. Had the woman practiced this story out loud before she told it to the cops, she might, just might have heard how ridiculous it sounded and thought of something else. But she didn't. Fortunately, with a story that whack-a-doo, it didn't take long for the cops to figure out she was lying. I know! What a shocker!

So what was her motive? Well, fortunately (for once, it seems) she didn't kill the kid. That's because (wait for it......) there never was a kid. Correct. She made the whole thing up. Oh, she was pregnant at one time, but she miscarried. The problem was when she told her estranged boyfriend, who was living up in Boston, that she had the baby and all was fine in La La Land! Basically, they had broken up and he wanted the relationship to stay that way. She, on the other hand, didn't like that very much and figured that a baby would lure him back. What an ingenious plan! Once that he's back, then all you have to do is get yourself a baby! It's brilliant! Oh, wait. No it isn't. Where was she planning on getting a baby, you ask? Well her plan "....was to stall Buchness (he'd be the Dad) until she could adopt a little boy and pass him off as their son." Of course! The ol' adoption/fake-out/switcher-oo/ruse plan. I should have guessed!

McCormick "...went through great lengths to make her story believable, buying baby clothes and sending herself text messages from a second phone, pretending to be the kidnapping nanny." OK, look, there are a whole lot of different kinds of crazy out there and crazy over a failed relationship is just one of them. But when you start wandering over into the delusional world creating kind of crazy and then start dabbling in the inventing of small (very small) children and kidnapping caretakers, that's an entirely different kind of crazy. That's the kind of crazy that, even though I'm sure the guy is at least a little upset that this child that he thought was his for the last six months never existed, the guy should be relieved that he actually did NOT make another human being with this woman. Please don't be mad, sir. Just be relieved that, for now, the chain of crazy stops.

She's been arrested on a misdemeanor charge of filing a false police report and is being held at the Miami-Dade County Jail. One could hope that she is getting a bit of psychiatric help, but I'm going to guess that she is not. I'm going to guess that she's just sitting there in her cell and that's unfortunate. Although she said that her plan was to adopt a kid before anyone caught on to her scheme, let's think about what she would have done if she couldn't adopt a kid. I can't see that stealing someone else's child would be out of the realm of possibilities for this woman. Whenever she goes before a judge, if the judge has any sense and can see this for what it is, there will be some sort of psychiatric intervention as part of her sentence. Screw any fine and instead have her pay for all of the manpower that was spent on freaking Christmas Eve and Christmas Day looking for a child that never existed.

Yeah, this could have ended a whole lot worse than it did. Hopefully, with appropriate intervention, it won't get worse and there won't be a "next time". But unfortunately, this happened in Florida, so I'm not holding my breath.

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Open Wide Inside The...Kitchen?

Fear prevents a lot of bad things from happening. In fact, fear is absolutely necessary. I see fear as being one of those things that can really help keep a person in line. If it wasn't for fear, humans would be doing all sorts of nutty stuff all the time. Jumping off of cliffs, flying kites in the rain, going to a dentist who runs his practice out of his kitchen. Wait. What?

Fresh from the pages of LoHud.com, we learn about a one Carlos Flores who "...had a dentist chair, the requisite tools and even the necessary drugs to treat dental patients in the kitchen of his Crompond Road home. The only thing he lacked was a license." Oh, sweet mother of God, WHAT?!?! The only thing he lacked was a license?! That's kind of the most important thing if you're asking me. It's right up there with a dental office out of which to run your practice of dentistry! I'm thinking an office was also lacking in this scenario in addition to the license.

(By the way, if you are susceptible to any sort of queasiness brought on my dentist/dental horror stories, you might want to stay away from this post. There are lovely pictures to accompany this tale of oral hell and they might cause that one feeling. You know, the one right before you yak all over your keyboard or pass out and whack your noggin on the mouse. Either way, not pleasant.)

If you're wondering how an out-of-kitchen dental office is discovered, "Police learned that Flores was running the practice after a man who went to him for a toothache wound up in the emergency room." You don't say? Someone who went to the Kitchen Dentist ended up in an emergency room? Now, when they say "emergency room", do they mean "emergency room" or do they mean "backyard" or perhaps "pantry"? After all, the guy was fine with "dentist's office" being in a "kitchen", so it's really hard to know.

"Flores attempted to pull his tooth and, in doing so, broke the tooth and caused further injury." Excuse me for a minute while I go and get a paper bag to breathe into so that I don't pass out. Oh. My. God. What else? "Among the equipment police seized were the dental chair, drills, orthodontic equipment and controlled substances used in dentistry. Flores claims to have been a licensed orthodontist in his native Ecuador, but police have not been able to confirm this." Um, who cares?! I don't care if he's a dentist in his native Ecuador. In case you hadn't noticed, his kitchen was in New York! I don't care if he's King of all of the dentists in Dental Land, if he's doing dentistry in his kitchen, nothing else matters! Nothing!

One of the detectives on the case, a Detective Sgt. Eric Johansen, said "It looks to be that he was catering to the poor, Hispanic population. He made indications to us that he had only done it for people who couldn't afford insurance." Well, I should hope so! I'd hate to think that someone who HAD insurance would be seeking out Gordon Ramsey, DDS over there!

But here's where it gets comical. (And I don't know about you, but I could use some amusement right about now.) "Most disturbing about the practice were the unsanitary conditions." WHAT are my other choices?! What else IS there other than the unsanitary conditions? Poor lighting? Bad taste in drapery? What else could there possibly BE?!?!

"The tools were blood-stained, and it appears as if he had no regard for any sanitary code." Wait. What? A guy practicing dentistry out of his kitchen had no regard for any sanitary code? Are you kidding me? I am shocked, just shocked, at that revelation! I mean, I would expect the practicing without a license, the questionable immigration status, the dental chair next to the stove, but no regard for any sanitary code? THAT just came from out of nowhere! Who would have ever thought THAT?! Why, this guy is starting to sound like he might not be much of a real dentist at all!

The guy was charged "...with unauthorized practice of a profession, a felony, and seventh-degree criminal possession of a controlled substance, a misdemeanor." Seventh-degree felony? What the hell is that? Seventh? Why bother? I don't get it. But you know what else I don't get? I don't get how things like this happen. Not the fact that the guy could be running a dental practice out of his kitchen, but how he would have any people to DO any dentistry ON out of his kitchen! I mean, I understand not having any cash for these sorts of things. But even still, I don't think I'd be staying in some guy's kitchen to have him work on my teeth! I just don't think I could do it. How do those people ever relax to the point where they can even open their mouth for him to peer in there (probably with his Black and Decker Snakelight and a big paper clip fashioned in the shape of a hook)?

Some stupidity is a team effort. This little story was a perfect example of one sort of stupidity. Without the people who were willing to pull themselves on up to the kitchen counter and let Dr. Dumbass there poke around in their mouth with garden implements or whatever else he had handy (spatula, meat thermometer, Bic ballpoint pen, anything really), Dr. Dumbass never would have been able to see his Dream Kitchen/Dental Office come to full fruition. A classic case of 'You scratch my back, I'll pull out your lower left molar with this hand vise.'

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