Joe Kenda is the new John Wayne for Policeman

I am just a wee bit younger than Joe Kenda; let’s just say that Joe and I are separated by almost two years. Had I been born on the 28th of August rather than the 27th, he would be two complete years older. Oh, if you don’t know who Joe Kenda is, well, don’t feel bad, because I myself was out of touch with cable TV for a few years. But last year, someone turned on the ID channel when I was walking through the room and Homicide Hunter was on. I got sucked in and watched, and the next day I mentioned the show to the man who was installing new lights in my kitchen:

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “my wife and I really like that show.” So we got to talking about Kenda and a couple of other shows that were on ID that summer of 2016. I can’t remember who was the person in the other show, but I do remember remarking that I thought that fellow was quite off-putting and he agreed. As I said, it was summer and there was sort of a Kenda marathon going on to fill space, several days worth of shows and, well, I began to watch them. I had no idea the show had been on for what? four or five years?

Because I am who I am, I pulled out my laptop and started researching Kenda and his career. I discovered his show is extremely popular with just about everyone. He is very smart and can talk for quite a while in short sentences that use words that belie an education and he does not fall back to the “Uh . . .uh . . .uh” mumbling that so many of us use when relating a story.

And, yes, he does tell stories – stories that are actually accounts of the cases he worked on in Colorado Springs in a 20+ year career in which he became the head of the Major Crimes Division. He says he has a great memory; I believe him. Either that or he is making it up as he goes along, but that wouldn’t work because the only way not to ensnare himself in inconsistencies  would be to remember what he had said. That, of course, would require a great memory, so going back to square one, he probably does remember things really, really well.

That was sort of an awkward sentence, but at least by typing, I could just pause and not have to go “Uh . . .uh . . .uh.” He does have a few catch phrases that have caught viewers’ fancy and found the way to posters, mugs and whatever. “My, my, my” and “Really?” are two that jump to mind. Of course I realize “Really?” is not  a phrase; it is one word. However, with Kenda’s intonation and facial expression, it seems to say a lot along the line of Boy, are you lying to me and we’re going to get to the bottom of this . . . and you will wind up on that bottom.

It is not unlike John Wayne and “Pilgrim” or  his trademark, “Welllll, yeah.” Why do I compare Wayne and Kenda? Because when I was much younger, I remember the constant remark regarding men trying to “John Wayne” it. I can’t help but wonder if there are a bunch of cops (police persons) out there who are trying to be cool and calm now like Kenda. Maybe the wives of such men are nagging them to be more Kenda-like – soft voice, polite, not distracting from his message by yelling. Actually, I feel sorry for some of the police people who probably have to endure ribbing about Kenda. Human nature being what it is, you know it goes on.

So, Joe, if anything shady happens here at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse, it’s not  your jurisdiction, just like it’s not Columbo’s. Not that anything would happen, shady, that is.

 

 

Wrong Turkey

I just posted not ten minutes ago, but I am here again because I must confess to a totally AmeliaJake type of mistake. I glanced at a sub-headline on the Internet news that announced a Miss Turkey had lost her crown due to a tweet. And I thought – please brace yourself – that it had something to do with a Thanksgiving event . . . and maybe with an actual turkey that had been judged “perfect”. Well, no, it wasn’t; you can see for yourself what the real story is HERE.

Rule # 1

This started out as one of the major no-no’s for trial lawyers: Do not ask a question you do not already know the answer to or are an answer you are not prepared to hear. I suppose it derived, as so many prudent things do, from the old adage that curiosity killed the cat.

Firemen feel the door before they open it, for instance. I’m not going to give another example; I am going straight to crux of what prompted me to sigh and sit down and whimper onto my laptop. I suspected it, I know, and that is probably why I put off going upstairs and into a certain room. However, because an attachment to my vacuum has been missing for a number of days, I decided to go see if I had left it “in a certain room.”

Up the stairs I went and I turned left and I did not find the attachment; I viewed a room that harbored nothing filthy, but a number of plates and empty cups and glasses – everywhere. I assume it was everywhere because I made a U-Turn and descended the stairs.

A little while later, I heard the door open to the back vestibule and went out to the kitchen to speak with the dinnerware collector. He tilted his head and said, “Well, it’s a work in progress.” That is one thing he has inherited from me – the ability to disguise something distasteful with a euphemism. Why, when I wanted to wash a stuffed animal and make it sound less horrible than saying, “I’m going to put it in the washing machine,” I simply said it was going to a spa. Never mind that the last time I did that in a HE washer, the spin cycle totally flattened the thing against the side and in the end, an eye fell out.

Actually, no one asked me to relay that story and I shouldn’t have, which only goes to show, even if you know the answer to a question – especially one you are not asked – sometimes you just should keep your mouth closed.