Wednesday afternoon involved a pain I cannot even begin to fathom or describe. The entire day we learned about the X26 Taser and what it is capable of doing. We saw videos of combative subjects drop instantaneously. We saw demonstrative videos comparing the effects of the X26 to previous models, and how far superior the X26 truly is. The videos showed it all.
What they didn't explain is how much that thing would hurt. To give you all a quick crash course in taser history, the original handheld tasers were operating under the idea of pain compliance - I cause you enough pain to make you change your mind from your previous actions. These worked well on subjects that were not hell bent on assaulting you, or who weren't under the influence of some nerve deadening agent such as Meth, PCP, or high quantities of alcohol. The latest version of Taser technology has jumped from just pain compliance to what is called, "neuro-muscular incapacitation." The pulse rate of the new taser mimics the human body's way of communicating from the Central Nervous System (brain and spinal cord) to the muscles. Now it doesn't just mimic it but rather interferes with it all.
It was explained like this - If two people are talking on a phone line, communication is going back and forth flawlessly. But if someone else, a third person, picks up a phone on the same line and screams into it, the communication between the first two people is lost due to the interference. The taser basically comes in through the back door and screams into your body's communication system - only it doesn't sneak in through the back door but rather blasts through it with a shape charge and a pissed off SWAT team.
The end result is involuntary muscle contraction and a subject can no longer physically resist, EVEN IF they cannot feel the extreme pain. Oh yeah, that pain is 50,000 volts.
Well, I still didn't think it would be that bad knowing we all would be tased by the end of the day to earn our certification. I watched my classmates get tased and heard the screams of pain. There were the occasional - ok there were many - four letter words. Each one said it was the worst thing they had experienced, yet I remain unconvinced it could possibly be that bad. HOLY CRAP I WAS WRONG! I saw sparks come from my freaking elbows! ELBOWS! That is the most unnatural thing I have ever seen. The pain, on a scale from a 1-10, was a 39. I was completely at the mercy of the person using the taser, and I physically couldn't do a thing to get it to stop. By the way, the taser automatically runs for 5 seconds - the longest 5 seconds in history. I could swim the Pacific ocean faster than the amount of time it felt like I was being fried.
My word of advice. If you, for whatever reason, have the opportunity to be tased, whether it be voluntary or you are drunk and combative, DO NOT TAKE IT. Follow ALL instructions immediately, and follow them with due haste.
I asked two mothers in the class if being tased was worse than giving child birth. They said child birth was worse because it lasts so much longer, but the taser is the most similar. So there you have it, on Wednesday, May 28, 2008 at approximately 4:15 pm, I gave birth.
I found this website where they guy did a pretty good job describing the whole ordeal - http://saunderslog.com/2006/05/02/can-you-power-a-taser-with-2-aaa-batteries/
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Searching for something
I don't know what that title is supposed to mean.
For the past week and a half, I've been reliving the bachelor life. My awesome wife Alisha has been on the opposite side of the planet in Israel, touring the beautiful old country and learning first hand where Jesus, the disciples, and other biblical figures have lived. I really wish I could be there. I think in our American Christianity, we lose sight of the fact that Jesus actually DID live. That King David really WAS a great king and human being, and so on. Too often, I think of biblical people and times as more of stories, like something someone just wrote about. If you were to ask me, I would never say that of course, but the way I live, I would say I act that way. At the very least, we are nearly 2000 years removed from Paul's journeys, and that is the very end of the New Testament. Can I even put a context on 2000+ years?
Would we as Christians live life differently if we really focused on that idea that these people we read about in holy pages were no more or less human than us? I remember seeing a picture of a friend of mine in the middle east - I think Turkey (don't quote me if my history or geography is wrong), where she is standing next to the grave of the Apostle John. I distinctly remember thinking that grave is no different from a grave we make these days. John was real. He was alive. He did preach. He wasn't just someone written about. Then a few days ago, Alisha sent me an email about her experience in Jerusalem walking through an aqueduct created by Hezekiah over 2500 years ago, is STILL bringing usable water into the city this day. Amazing!
Maybe the reason for the argument many non-Christians have about believing something "holy" written by mere men is hard to fathom is based on the fact that we professing Christians don't appear to believe it either? Just a thought.
Take it a step further. Look at the Muslims following Islam. A true Muslim will make the trek to Mecca once in their lifetime. Millions of Muslims make this journey to follow their heritage, their past, and show alliance to one another in their faith. There is some serious dedication there. Could being in the presence of their holy city help solidify their faith?
Like I've said, I don't have a clue if my thoughts are valid. I am definitely not saying wonderful and far more clear objections or subsequent reasons for our lack of apparent faith exist. I am just seeing in my life, living through the experiences of my wife, that the person my eternal soul rests comfortably with, has more value and weight by seeing with open eyes that He IS real, He DID live, He DID die a human death. He tasted the same salty water I have. He has experienced sore feet from walking hills and trails. He was human!
This revelation in my life is a breath of fresh air to my soul.
For the past week and a half, I've been reliving the bachelor life. My awesome wife Alisha has been on the opposite side of the planet in Israel, touring the beautiful old country and learning first hand where Jesus, the disciples, and other biblical figures have lived. I really wish I could be there. I think in our American Christianity, we lose sight of the fact that Jesus actually DID live. That King David really WAS a great king and human being, and so on. Too often, I think of biblical people and times as more of stories, like something someone just wrote about. If you were to ask me, I would never say that of course, but the way I live, I would say I act that way. At the very least, we are nearly 2000 years removed from Paul's journeys, and that is the very end of the New Testament. Can I even put a context on 2000+ years?
Would we as Christians live life differently if we really focused on that idea that these people we read about in holy pages were no more or less human than us? I remember seeing a picture of a friend of mine in the middle east - I think Turkey (don't quote me if my history or geography is wrong), where she is standing next to the grave of the Apostle John. I distinctly remember thinking that grave is no different from a grave we make these days. John was real. He was alive. He did preach. He wasn't just someone written about. Then a few days ago, Alisha sent me an email about her experience in Jerusalem walking through an aqueduct created by Hezekiah over 2500 years ago, is STILL bringing usable water into the city this day. Amazing!
Maybe the reason for the argument many non-Christians have about believing something "holy" written by mere men is hard to fathom is based on the fact that we professing Christians don't appear to believe it either? Just a thought.
Take it a step further. Look at the Muslims following Islam. A true Muslim will make the trek to Mecca once in their lifetime. Millions of Muslims make this journey to follow their heritage, their past, and show alliance to one another in their faith. There is some serious dedication there. Could being in the presence of their holy city help solidify their faith?
Like I've said, I don't have a clue if my thoughts are valid. I am definitely not saying wonderful and far more clear objections or subsequent reasons for our lack of apparent faith exist. I am just seeing in my life, living through the experiences of my wife, that the person my eternal soul rests comfortably with, has more value and weight by seeing with open eyes that He IS real, He DID live, He DID die a human death. He tasted the same salty water I have. He has experienced sore feet from walking hills and trails. He was human!
This revelation in my life is a breath of fresh air to my soul.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Terrible Day
Today was by far the worst day I have had in the Academy. To begin, I woke up 30 min late and didn't have time to take a shower. I got to work and the first 4 hours were on proper usage of a shotgun, a weapon I have used since I was 12. So, I was bored, and really didn't learn anything new, but I was excited because I absolutely love shooting shotguns, and was ready to get to the range.
Well, I get to the range and I violated a rule - I had a magazine in my handgun. It was unloaded, and I had checked that, but I didn't remove the magazine and Deputy Johnson caught me. He very politely reminded me to take the magazine out and I did. I thought it was no big deal. Next thing I know, Deputy Johnson is yelling at the class because our heads were not in the right place and we were violating range rules. The only one he mentioned was magazines in weapons. I think it was me and possibly another person. So, I got the class in trouble and our punishment was to stay in the "front leaning rest" push up position for a good period of time and then do 15 push ups. I took it personal because I don't like making others punished for my mistakes, and also the fact that he told me politely, like it wasn't a big deal, to remove my magazine and then flipped his lid on the whole class like we all did something wrong.
We began shooting and I was doing terrible. All my shots were high and left. I have a great grouping, but they weren't on target. I couldn't figure out what I was doing. I find out later, that my weapon was sighted in for 100 yards, so it shoots high at 25 and 50. That would have been good to know earlier.
Next, targets were ripping off the cardboard backing because they weren't stapled well enough. I was selected to add more staples. Deputy Johnson was angry that things were taking too long, so I was jogging to get the stapler. I got yelled at because I was holding my shotgun while jogging. I wasn't unsafe by any means, I was in control of my muzzle at all times, yet I get yelled at. Another thing to tick me off.
Well, we do a qualification course and I fail. I was one of 2 people to fail. I have always been a jack of all trades and very few things are hard for me to learn. The one thing I have always excelled at was shooting. It came naturally. And I fail. So I retake the course and fail again. So, now I am not qualified with a shotgun even though I can shoot my personal one with proficiency any day of the week. I was very ticked.
I spoke with Deputy Johnson about it, and he told me it was no big deal, and I tried to explain my frustration, and all he asked was, "Did you shave this morning?" I hadn't, because I woke up late and didn't have time to shave. He said I owed him a memo, again like it was no big deal. We are finishing up the day and once again he yells at the entire class because we are doing stupid things like, "Not shaving our faces."
It was one hit after another. I couldn't shoot a shotgun to safe my life today. We were able to shoot clay pigeons (10 rounds, 10 clays). I shot 6 out of 10. Apparently I can hit moving targets the size of pop cans, but can't hit a still target the size of a human being.
It was a terrible day, and I just needed to write this down and let it go.
Well, I get to the range and I violated a rule - I had a magazine in my handgun. It was unloaded, and I had checked that, but I didn't remove the magazine and Deputy Johnson caught me. He very politely reminded me to take the magazine out and I did. I thought it was no big deal. Next thing I know, Deputy Johnson is yelling at the class because our heads were not in the right place and we were violating range rules. The only one he mentioned was magazines in weapons. I think it was me and possibly another person. So, I got the class in trouble and our punishment was to stay in the "front leaning rest" push up position for a good period of time and then do 15 push ups. I took it personal because I don't like making others punished for my mistakes, and also the fact that he told me politely, like it wasn't a big deal, to remove my magazine and then flipped his lid on the whole class like we all did something wrong.
We began shooting and I was doing terrible. All my shots were high and left. I have a great grouping, but they weren't on target. I couldn't figure out what I was doing. I find out later, that my weapon was sighted in for 100 yards, so it shoots high at 25 and 50. That would have been good to know earlier.
Next, targets were ripping off the cardboard backing because they weren't stapled well enough. I was selected to add more staples. Deputy Johnson was angry that things were taking too long, so I was jogging to get the stapler. I got yelled at because I was holding my shotgun while jogging. I wasn't unsafe by any means, I was in control of my muzzle at all times, yet I get yelled at. Another thing to tick me off.
Well, we do a qualification course and I fail. I was one of 2 people to fail. I have always been a jack of all trades and very few things are hard for me to learn. The one thing I have always excelled at was shooting. It came naturally. And I fail. So I retake the course and fail again. So, now I am not qualified with a shotgun even though I can shoot my personal one with proficiency any day of the week. I was very ticked.
I spoke with Deputy Johnson about it, and he told me it was no big deal, and I tried to explain my frustration, and all he asked was, "Did you shave this morning?" I hadn't, because I woke up late and didn't have time to shave. He said I owed him a memo, again like it was no big deal. We are finishing up the day and once again he yells at the entire class because we are doing stupid things like, "Not shaving our faces."
It was one hit after another. I couldn't shoot a shotgun to safe my life today. We were able to shoot clay pigeons (10 rounds, 10 clays). I shot 6 out of 10. Apparently I can hit moving targets the size of pop cans, but can't hit a still target the size of a human being.
It was a terrible day, and I just needed to write this down and let it go.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Sore
My weekend was an absolute blast. I flew to St. Louis, then drove to Evansville, IN, for a wedding. I was able to hang out with my best friend whom I haven't seen in awhile because of his service in our military, and the reunion was just fun.
I got back home about 8 last night and then went to bed not much later. I arose this morning, packed all my work stuff, and went to work. It was then, after sitting in the classroom, realizing I had forgotten my PT gear. My wife, being the awesome woman she is, parted from her huge assignment she's been putting countless hours into, to drive the 30 min and drop off my PT gear.
Deputy Johnson found out about the whole thing and I had to write him a memo about why I wasn't prepared, which I considered a small price to pay. If I didn't have my PT gear, the class would have enjoyed PT in polyester uniform shirts, bullet proof vests, wool pants, and combat boots. I think writing a memo is nothing compared to that horror.
Well PT was a real workout. We ran up and down steep hills, pull ups galore, lunges, push ups, crunches, and running. The entire thing really wouldn't have been that hard had I had some water in my system.
I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours, and really didn't drink anything either. My body stopped producing sweat and then produced just goo. I got dizzy, started seeing swirls of colors, and my hands went numb. I fell to the back of the group, and couldn't keep up. At one point I had to sit down for in fear of my truly passing out and hitting pavement with my face.
I got back to the classroom and drank plenty of water and felt better nearly immediately. But my anger at myself continued throughout the night. I don't have anything to prove but I hate it when I fail. The man running our PT was the leader of the SWAT team, a team I would eventually like to join. We even got into a pull up contest with each other. And then I failed. It was just disheartening.
So, I end the day with soreness all over, and sense of failure that I need to get over because it isn't that important, and really, I just need some sleep.
I got back home about 8 last night and then went to bed not much later. I arose this morning, packed all my work stuff, and went to work. It was then, after sitting in the classroom, realizing I had forgotten my PT gear. My wife, being the awesome woman she is, parted from her huge assignment she's been putting countless hours into, to drive the 30 min and drop off my PT gear.
Deputy Johnson found out about the whole thing and I had to write him a memo about why I wasn't prepared, which I considered a small price to pay. If I didn't have my PT gear, the class would have enjoyed PT in polyester uniform shirts, bullet proof vests, wool pants, and combat boots. I think writing a memo is nothing compared to that horror.
Well PT was a real workout. We ran up and down steep hills, pull ups galore, lunges, push ups, crunches, and running. The entire thing really wouldn't have been that hard had I had some water in my system.
I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours, and really didn't drink anything either. My body stopped producing sweat and then produced just goo. I got dizzy, started seeing swirls of colors, and my hands went numb. I fell to the back of the group, and couldn't keep up. At one point I had to sit down for in fear of my truly passing out and hitting pavement with my face.
I got back to the classroom and drank plenty of water and felt better nearly immediately. But my anger at myself continued throughout the night. I don't have anything to prove but I hate it when I fail. The man running our PT was the leader of the SWAT team, a team I would eventually like to join. We even got into a pull up contest with each other. And then I failed. It was just disheartening.
So, I end the day with soreness all over, and sense of failure that I need to get over because it isn't that important, and really, I just need some sleep.
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