My PRE-DAWN RAID!


My PRE-DAWN RAID!

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                  Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. Sorry for the startling article title, but it is the truth. Before dawn, today, my home was (I feel) illegally raided. Sunrise, today,  here in Orange County Southern California, was 6:454AM. Nearly a whole bloody HOUR before that my home was invaded but unidentified barbarians posing as officers. Now, let me set your minds to ease… a little. I have NOT committed any crimes. I am not in any legal trouble. Now, let me weave you a tale. A tale of my humiliating, and gravely upsetting, painful  awakening, this very morning.

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At approximately 5:55 AM this morning I was awakened, out of a deep painless sleep, by the vigorous, extremely loud, hate filled banging on my front door. I nearly jumped out of my bed, and my skin to, at the sound of this noise. Quite honestly it sounded like someone had a small sledgehammer and was trying to knock down my front door. I jolted up in bed, horribly wrenching my neck and causing the first of what will be a series of hurtful and humiliating actions, and looked at the clock in front of my bed. It was 5:55 AM and just as I was fixing to ask Allen if he had heard the violent hammering on our front door, it happened again.

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BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BA, BAMMM!

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Six times! Someone took a very hard and very dense abject and beat it against my front door. Now, My Dear Readers, generally in America a police officer, engaging in something like this (like a raid of your home) you would hear them announce themselves outside the door. Something to the effect of;

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            ”Open up, it’s the police!”

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Nobody made any kind of announcement outside my front door. Just twice, within ten seconds of each other, rapid vigorous angry slamming on my front door! The sound of a ball peen hammer, being thrown through my front door. I was now as frightened as I have been since… as frightened as I have been when I had a gun held to me during a mugging in 1989. Again, I have not heard anyone make any kind of ’legal’ announcement of potential entry, outside our door. For all I knew Allen and I were under some kind of home invasion attack. I say to Allen;

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            “Allen did you hear that?”

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 Allen responds, with fear in his voce that is quite palatable;

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            “Yes, Danny. What should I do? Should I answer it?”

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I responded, with great caution in my voice:

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            “Go to the door and look through the peep-hole. See if you can see who it is. But, don’t open it and keep the chain on the door.”

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At this point I am looking around my bed for something with which to protect myself. Allen looks through the peephole and says:

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                        “Oh my God… I think it is my probation officer!”

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At five-fricking-fifty in the AM… pre-flipping DAWN?

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So I say Allen;

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            “Well, open the door… but keep the chain on. “

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Allen opens the door. I hear mumbled voices… and Allen removes the chain and opens the door.

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Now I want to make a couple of things perfectly crystal clear to you, My Dear Readers. Every single penny paid in; deposits, move-in costs, and rent since the very beginning of my our residency here has been paid, in full, by me alone on cashiers checks from my account at US Bank. Allen is just getting back on his feet after the unfortunate incident in August of this year. I don’t like to talk about this much… It really is nobody’s business but my own, and Allen… However, I believe it was in August. Allen completely broke with himself and, at 46 years of age, took a car not belonging to himself for a ‘joyride’. Allen is now on three years probation and a work/release program that he is mostly through with. Having said, my understanding of the law in the state of California… And every flipping state in the United States of America, clearly states that no law enforcement officer shall EVER enter into a home without properly identifying themselves.

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Let me take up, where I left off. Allen opens the front door and immediately two people walked into my home at 5:57AM unannounced. With complete disregard for me, my concerns, my civil right’s these people barge into my home and immediately demand that my husband of 26 years sit on the floor, where he stands, behind the front door of his own home… on his hands. Now, there were two individuals (I will not call them police officers, I will not call them law enforcement officers, I will not call them anything more than animalistic bi-peds, at this point, because neither have identified themselves and neither have addressed me at this point). The female of these, as yet, unidentified individuals barks a couple of things at Alan that I cannot hear… then starts flashing her flashlight all over my personal possessions. I look over the Allen and the male (I will not call him a man because men behave with honor) is shining one of these huge baton shaped 6’D’ cell battery halogen flashlights right in Alan’s face for some unknown flipping reason (probably due to his floundering self-esteem and microscopic id). Then the female of these intruders is snooping around my DVDs and books, God knows why. When she stops, at the curtain that separates my living room from my kitchen/bathroom area…. Well, she gives me a dirty look, then reaches in her pocket and removes two bright blue latex surgical gloves.

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At this point, My Dear Readers, neither of these offensive intruders has:

  1. showed me a badge
  2. identified themselves as law enforcement officers
  3. said “excuse me: for barging into my home unannounced prior to DAWN
  4. acknowledged my existence with anything more than a dirty look from the female of these offensive intruders

Now, My Dear Readers, I am being uncharacteristically silent. I am being uncharacteristically silent because I realize, at that moment, if I were to open my mouth? I would’ve completely verbally eviscerated both of these bullheaded barbarians. Now, I am not an attorney but I do know my rights under the United States Constitution. One of those rights is a ‘right of entry’ that clearly states that if you’re going to walk into a home I pay the rent for every single penny out of my bank account you have to. at some point. acknowledge my flipping existence and identify yourself. Second, if you’re going to don sterile gloves and start; rummaging through my garbage, plying my clothes, furling my hats in the floor, and taking a dive through my personal items? You’ve got to tell me who the flip you are and why the flip you are in my house BEFORE DAWN!

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This female barbarian goes into my kitchen, without my permission. I hear her rummaging through my garbage can, I hear her going through my clothes in my closet, and I hear her opening cabinets in my bathroom. My rage, at this point, My Dear Readers, is rapidly coming to a boiling point. Just about when I’ve decided I can say something without calling them the pre-dawn barbarian invaders that they are? The male barbarian invader shines his darn high beam  halogen six ‘D’ cell flashlight in my face! Then has the cojones to say to me, while still shining an extremely bright flashlight in my eyes at 5 AM;

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            “Why don’t you lean back…”

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Not; why don’t you lean back sir? Not; why don’t you please lean back. Not, would you please Sir lean back. My Dear Readers, the only time in my life… right now… that I am not aware of the intractable pain I’m in? Is when I am asleep. Right now, with my condition as it is, I generally only get eight hours sleep once or twice a week. If I am awake, I am in pain. Having already been jolted out of my bed by barbarians beating violently on my front door in the predawn wee hours of the day? I am in severe pain. Every since that typewriter dropped on my head in 1987 I’ve had a sensitivity to light. It is quite common for people, with head injuries, to develop sensitivities to; light, sound, heat, any of your senses can become highly sensitive. So, on top of the severe burning pain that is in my neck from jumping jolted out of my bed by barbaric and animalistic pounding in my front door in the predawn hours this day… this male barbarian has just created a severe migraine by shining a flashlight directly into my eyes at 6:03AM in the predawn morning.

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Now, to be perfectly clear, these are the very first words either one of these violent intruders has said to me since they forced their way into my home in the predawn hours of this day. My Dear Readers I was sitting in the most comfortable way possible, I could find, when I was barked the order, by an unidentified intruder, in the predawn hours of this day. I didn’t say anything. I was in complete and total shock. So I leaned back some but I didn’t care reach back and touch my pillow or a reach the… the… the… bed chair I have, to try and make myself comfortable I just lean back so that he would remove the the six cell halogen spotlight from my eyes. Thank God, he did.

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It is about this time, My Dear Readers, that the female barbarian intruder egresses from my kitchen. Again, these into barbarian intruders have now been in my home over three minutes and niether one of them has taken the time to identify themselves, show me a badge, explain to me why they are here, or even show the this simplest the most basic human courtesies that each of us, as Americans, extend up homeless people sitting out front of the K-Mart panhandling!

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Now the female barbarian intruder engages in some mumbled dialogue with my husband of 26 years. He agrees to whatever they say I can’t barely hear what they’re saying, even though they are still in my apartment, that I have paid every single cent of rent for since we moved in. After the mumbled conversation with Allen, the male barbarian intruder opens the door and both of these violent inconsiderate barbaric unidentified intruders leave my home. It is now 3:20 in the afternoon (of the same day) and I have not yet been able to; get back to sleep, rest, calm down, get rid of the migraine headache, or find relief from the terrific pain caused by being jolted out of my bed at 5:50 this morning.

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My Dear Readers you are the first people I have spoken to about this humiliating and, I believe, illegal intrusion into my home. Right now I do not have ink cartridges in my printer… with enough ink for me to prepare any letters. However, as soon as I have enough money to buy the cartridges, I am, and once my printer has a cartridge I am writing letters to; the Governor of the state of California, the American Civil Liberties Union office in Orange County, and to the United States Department of Justice Civil Liberties division. Now, I’m not stupid, I am not a child, and I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I know that Allen committed a crime. I know that while he’s on probation he has been forced to suspend certain civil rights. However, I am not aware of any law, federal or state or local, that allows a police officer to waltz into my home at 5:50 in the morning after beating on my door with a baton sized 6 ‘D’ cell flashlight without identifying themselves or even acknowledging my existence other than bark an order at me.

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I have never been so upset or humiliated in my entire life! I’m going to mail every one of the above named letters; certified, restricted delivery, and return receipt. That is not going to be cheap, My Dear Readers, but what happened in the predawn hours of this day (to me) is not going to go with out consequence. If anyone out there reading this article is or knows a civil rights attorney? I would very much appreciate them contacting me. If anyone out there reading this is a member of the fourth estate, and would like to make a larger audience aware of the jackboot tactics of these unidentified predawn barbaric invaders, please contact me. I am 56 years old and I have never broken a single law. I have never received so much as a speeding ticket in my entire life. And yet, somehow, these ‘individuals’ (with obvious floundering self-esteem and microscopic ids) feel empowered to; beat vigorously on my door in the predawn hours of this day, intrude into my home. then rummage through my belongings and garbage? ALL and not once identify themselves or acknowledge me as human being? As fellow American, and to do so unscathed? WELL, they have another thought coming.

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My Dear Readers I literally thank God that I didn’t open my mouth this morning. In high school I was known as the ’Master of the Insult’ and God of the hand gesture’. I coined the Insult “ma formed abortion of a roach. I have no doubt, whatsoever, that if I had opened my mouth, this morning, and told these and unidentified barbarians exactly what I thought of their brown shirt-jacket boot tactics? I just might well be in jail right now. Further, as a very young boy my paternal grandfather would tell me stories of the horrific treatment his wife and her parents received, as Jewish Germans, by the Brown shirted Nazis in the early days of the Second World War. These stories frightened me, My Dear Readers.  I understood the severity of their actions, the deep racial hatred that motivated those barbarian’s actions. However, it was not until the predawn hours of this day that I, myself, personally understood the fear and humiliation my paternal great grandparents must have felt.

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I have not written, this week, much… because… I’ve been in a lot of pain… And, rather deeply depressed. Allen and I have been together, this December 15th, since 1987. This year we will celebrate our 26th year of being partners, life mates, significant others. Until three years ago, for the first 23 years of our relationship, no matter who was or wasn’t working. No matter how much or how little money we were making. No matter the circumstances or where we lived. Every single year I managed to give Allen a Merry Christmas. I remember, back in 1996, we were on hard times. We both went to bed, on Christmas Eve, without a single present under the tree. Unbeknownst to Allen, however, I had gone out earlier that day. And, with money I saved and put together…  that he didn’t know about… I managed to buy a couple presents for each of us. During the night I got out of bed and stole downstairs to put the presents under the tree. The next morning, Christmas day, Alan woke up very depressed and sad. That was, however, until Allen came downstairs and saw that a little miracle had happened in the night. He came downstairs and saw, under the tree, a half dozen presents. He sat under the tree and began the cry. He didn’t know how I’d done it. He didn’t know where I got the money. But without him even knowing I managed to bring Christmas to our home. From that day until five years ago, when I became completely incapable of getting out and doing things on my own… all alone, during the holidays Allen always referred to me as Mr. Christmas.

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This year I will be unable to pull a Christmas out of thin air for Allen. It is just not going to happen. I’ve done everything I can to try and bring a little extra money into our home so that, in spite of my disability… In spite of his arrest… In spite of it all I could show Allen just how much I love him…  and how much he means to me… by being for him… At least one more time, Mr. Christmas.

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And now, on top of all of those feelings… Declining feelings of self-worth… Shame that I can’t do for a man who’s been at my side 26 years through thick and thin…  anything for Christmas. On top of that he (and I) have to be terrorized in our own home. In fact, My Dear Readers, what happened us today is very personal to me. And I will not rest until something is done about these two barbarians beating on my door before the sun rose and humiliating him in his own home… and treating me like a second-class citizen. I will write about this more right here and at my other blog. As soon as I get #60 HP Black and color printer cartridges I will be writing, and sending, certified letters to all the people I’ve named above and anyone else I can think of that might… That might even have slimmest chance, might be able to address what I feel are…  possibly illegal actions and definitely immoral ones.

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As well as soon as I get these printer cartridges I’m sending a demand letter, as required by California law, to the man that stole $300 from me earlier this year. And maybe, just maybe, I will receive some modicum of justice before the New Year. I don’t know if I can get a court date between now on New Year’s Eve. But I do hope I can get that those printer cartridges so I can send a letter of demand and then file a civil lawsuit against a man who I trusted with a ‘Good Faith’  $300. $300 as a deposit on a room that I never ever moved into. That, quite honestly, he refused to let me move into because he realized I was gay. And that the man that has been in caregiver (who was gay, too) would be out in time to move in with me. And when he found that out he decided that he wasn’t about to let me move in… and also decided that because I was gay he could steal my money and I would never do anything about it. I am pretty good with words, My Dear Readers, if I haven’t already then I don’t know if I could possibly convey how deeply depressed I am. I apologize. I do I sincerely apologize for bringing this dark storm cloud into everybody else’s life during this beautiful time of year. It is the core reason I haven’t written much this week. Last week I managed to chase the clouds away enough to write seven articles. I was very proud of myself and was holding my depression at bay.

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I’m going to keep trying to push these dark clouds away. I have promised you another in my series of articles about Massively multiplayer online role-playing games, ‘MMORPGs And YOU!’. This one about the very first of the genre I played AND my all time favorite ‘World of Warcraft’. I have all the screenshots taken, and most of them uploaded. I have five videos recorded, uploaded to YouTube and ready to be embedded in the article. I also have the first two pages of the article written. I promise, I’ll do my best to get that article to you and another article about another game, of that genre, that I’m collecting screenshots and videos for… and as soon as I can pull my head out of these clouds I will bring them to you. I promise.

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. As always I am deeply honored that you come here and read my work.

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Thank you!

Just a shot of a VERY thankful Danny in His Power Chair

Just a shot of a VERY thankful Danny in His Power Chair

 

 

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About Daniel Hanning
I am a; writer, editor and publisher. I write, most often, articles about our space program, fun videos andpolitical works. My most recent additions are; A Week In Review, Sunday Funnies and The Adventures of Nadia. Along with The Mars Report and Lost in Space. ENJOY!

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