Roll Call

Roll Call: Short Dog-Probation in Rampart ’73-’74

By Mikey, Retired LAPD

Probation in Rampart ’73-’74


roll call West Midlands Police
West Midlands Police, UK


Back in the day, there were no holds barred when it came to messing with rookies—NONE.  Of course, I fell victim early on.


One shift, I had court all day and made it back to the station just in time to get ready for PM Watch roll call.  I opened my locker up and stripped down for a shower. I must have been in the shower for maybe 8 minutes—TOPS! After drying off, I returned to my locker to find my uniforms GONE. Yup, GOA (Gone On Arrival-an often used disposition the reason for the call was not present when the officer arrived-Thonie)!

The senior guys were getting ready. They said nothing; the other rookies dare not say anything. Didn’t want to sound like a baby so, I said nothing. The guys began exiting the locker room for roll call and I stood there, thinking. I wasn’t going to be late for roll call, so I started eyeballing my civilian clothes when my military training kicked in.

“Overcome and conquer.” Whatever, so I made my moves. All the “rooks” had to sit in the front of roll call and the senior guys in the back. Our PM watch commander and supervisors entered the room and the lieutenant took his place at his desk, at the head of the room, facing us.

He started calling the roll and our assignments when the snickering and muffled laughs became overwhelming. He looked up and began scanning the room when his eyes hit the front row left, last seat, against the wall. His eyes bugged out of his head.

Yellow raincoatHe was looking at the rookie wearing his cover, his yellow rain coat and boots and his Sam Browne waist level outside of the rain coat.

He bellowed, “Diaz, what the hell are you doing, son?”

Now the laughter was overwhelming, and I had to wait to answer until the noise settled down. “Misplaced my uniforms sir, returned from the shower to my opened locker and found that I had misplaced them, sir.”

“G-D D—N it! Whoever find’s Diaz’ uniforms gets an early EOW, (end of watch).”

I heard scuffling in the back of the room and then voices yelled out, “We found where Diaz misplaced his uniforms, lieutenant!”

I think I saw a slight twinkle in the lieutenant’s eyes when he made his declaration.

The rest of the night was uneventful.


The Call Box

Roll Call: Short Dogs

By Mikey, Retired LAPD

The Yellow Van and the Robbery Suspect


It was late 1990 and I was working Wilshire Division day watch patrol as a new field sergeant. Wilshire Division is bordered on the north by Hollywood Division, on the west by West Los Angeles Division on the east by Rampart Division and on the south by South West Division. At about 1130am I monitored a broadcast of a robbery that had just occurred in South West. The suspect was described as a heavy set male black, driving a yellow van, last seen south bound on La Brea Boulevard. I was stopped for a red light at Washington and La Brea facing south when I spotted a yellow van approach the interaction going north. The South West robbery suspect was last seen proceeding south on La Brea. The lettering on the van identifyed it as rental van. I radioed my location and asked communications to ask the South West unit if the van had writing on the sides. I was told that there was, and they added that it had a number on the back.

LAPD_Bell_206_JetrangerAs the light changed, the van passed me and sure enough the number matched the one given to me by the unit. I communicated that I was following the van NORTH bound on La Brea, requested back-up and settled in for a possible pursuit. I heard an air unit was enroute, so I hung back. The van proceeded into a residential neighborhood, pulled to the curb and the driver exited. I set up a felony stop, shot gun and all, and told the heavy-set driver to prone out. He turned and ran up a drive way into a back yard. The air unit was now over head and the observer told me to start star walking north.

“A little faster, Sarge,” the observer said, so I picked up the pace. I passed three residences and was approaching the last house before the end of the block when I was told to run to the end of the block and take cover facing east, so that’s what I did.

“Wait for it, Sarge.” Looking east I could see a wooden fence paralleling the street, west to east and the sidewalk next to it. This time the observer chucked as he said, “Here they come.”

They, here they come?

hurry-up-2785528_960_720I had my weapon drawn, facing east when the frail wooden fence shattered into pieces as the suspect ran right through. Behind him were a pit bull and a mutt in hot pursuit!

The guy saw at me and began yelling, “Shoot the dogs, shoot the dogs!!”

The aircrew must have been laughing hard because I heard the engine whining down (pilot not paying attention) but my attention was on our robbery suspect. The dogs got alarmed when they saw the vehicle traffic did a 180 and headed for home.

“Shoot the dogs,” ran into a responding black and white and the rest is history.

You know for a heavyset guy, he was running pretty good. Well, he was highly motivated!

Morning Watch and the Flying Badge


It was late 1990 and I was woLAPD sgt badge movie prop etsyrking morning watch at Wilshire as a patrol sergeant. Our end of watch was 0800 but I had a report to finish and didn’t leave the station until 1030. I was on my way home eastbound on the I-10, the Santa Monica portion and this time of the morning the traffic still stinks. My patience is boarding the edge of—well, I’m tired and when I get home I have a couple of “honey do’s” to complete before sleep. Drive time, 45 minutes. Crossing the Harbor freeway, the traffic lightened up, so we picked up the speed. I’m in the #2 lane and a yellow city dump truck is in the #1 lane. As we transition from the east bound I-10 to the north bound I-5, the truck—without signaling—cuts me off! Had I not slammed on the brakes, we’d have had a terrific collision. Now I’m going to catch up to the truck and let the guy know who he just cut off! I take my badge place it into my left hand. The badge pin is between my middle and index finger. I catch up to the truck who is back in the #1 lane and now I’m next to him, I roll down my window and as he looks over at me, I produce my badge out the window…….and my badge is yanked out of my hand by the rush of wind! It’s gone, rolling down the freeway. My almost new sergeant badge is GONE!

Told you I was tired, lacking any judgment and now my badge was gone. I got off the freeway and went back to the location.

Somewhere in badge heaven that badge is telling the story of the first and last knuckle head he was with.

I sure showed that driver, huh?

Roll Call

Roll Call: Rampart and the Baby Powder Caper

68 Plymouth Belvedere labeledBy Mikey, Retired LAPD

March 25, 2018



In the summer of 1973, as a rookie copper in Rampart Division, I was learning the ways of the LAPD. Every day was exciting for me. I was assigned morning watch, so I got to work at 2230 for a 2400 roll call.


One night, I was in the locker room talking with another copper when four sergeants swarmed into the room and began taking names and serial numbers. One of the senior officers asked what the deal was, and he was told that he would find out later.  At the conclusion of roll call our lieutenant told those of us who had had their names and serial numbers documented to report to the Area Commanding Officer’s (CO) office. 


In the hallway were five officers standing outside of the CO’s office. Just as I got in line, an officer exited the office, looked at us and said, “that was B**l S**t!” and stomped off. All the guys before me said pretty much the same as they exited.


Then it was my turn. A sergeant and lieutenant (LT) were in the room. The sergeant stood by the light switch and the LT was behind a desk. On the desk was a lunch box, the kind that is rectangle at the bottom and half oval on the top.  

The LT instructed me to approach the desk and put my hands out in front of me. He then told the sergeant to turn out the room lights. I heard the lunch box lid open and suddenly an ultraviolet light came up, illuminating my hands. Barely visible were some very little shiny “flakes.”  The LT called the sergeant over to the desk and told him to look at my hands.


 “What is that?” the L.T. asked.


 My response, “I don’t know, sir.” 


 “Well, it’s on your hands!”  


The sergeant turned the lights back on and I found them both eyeing me suspiciously. 


“What’s up” I asked.


Silence. Then, “you can go. What car are you working?” 


I replied, “2 Adam 3.”


Something told me I’d be talking to the LT again, very soon. My training officer asked me why I had been in the CO’s office, but I did not have an answer for him. 


Sure enough, 15 minutes later, “2 Adam 3, see the watch commander.” 


Back at the station, I reported to the watch commander and he told me to go back to the CO’s office and report to the LT. In the LT’s office, I was again asked me again what the flakes on my hands were. This time I had an answer for him.


In a somewhat weak voice I said. “Baby powder, sir.” 


“Baby powder?” 


 Johnsons_Baby_Powder_1,5_OZS_talc,_pic1I told him that in the summer I used it because I sweat quite a bit. 


The LT looked at the sergeant with that “ah, ha” look and said to me, “well then, it should be all over your person.” With that he told me to take off my uniform shirt. So, I removed my Sam Brown put it on the desk, pulled my shirt out and unbuttoned it. The LT told me to pull my T-shirt up and he instructed the sergeant to kill the lights. The UV light came back on and wouldn’t you know it, there were flakes all over the place.


Not satisfied with that, the LT had me take my belt off, and pull my pants down. Oh yeah; this is 1973 LAPD, no union rep, nothing. Just as he is working his way down to my knees, the door came open, I heard a hand being slapped and the light came on. From where my watch commander was standing behind me, how do you think it looked? The LT was practically kneeling down in front of me and my pants down to my knees? 


 “Young lieutenant, that’s disgusting!” My watch commander shouted. Then to me, “Diaz, get yourself put back together and get out on patrol!”  God, I felt so, I don’t know, used?


So, here is why this happened. There had been locker break-ins, so the CO’s adjutant had powdered several lockers with the secret stuff and had a couple of the lockers bugged to set off an alarm if they were disturbed.  The night I was there, the alarm tripped, the sergeants arrived, and the baby powder made the LT “hot” and all for nothing. 


The next night, my training officer brought in a super sized container of baby powder. All the guys powdered up their hands, banged on every locker, went to roll call to await the dreaded “swarm” of sergeants, but nothing happened.


I stopped using baby powder. Just saying.


Roll Call

A Christmas Story from Mikey


Written December 24th, 2007

cop christmas treeFor the last ten years, I have worked Christmas Eve for any young sergeant who should be home with his wife and babies. They don’t know until December 23rd, and then I tell the chosen one, “I got it.” Tonight, is the last one for me. I will be 6L20 watch 3. Start of watch is 1815 until 0700 Christmas Day. I got a true story to tell you about Christmas Eve 1992. Its’ a really good one.

I was set to work with another sergeant and a lieutenant at Rampart Division. The other sergeant was Brenda Gordon who had an umpteenth number of family in from out of town and pleaded and begged as she might, she did not get the night off. The LT., Mike Mines and I are car pooling so enroute to the station I convince him that I can handle the street supervision myself and Brenda should stay home. He agrees and when we get to the station, we call Brenda. She cries like a baby. When her family asked why she was crying, she told them. Her family went nuts; made Mike and me feel good.

About 2030 (8:30 PM), Mike calls me into the station and tells me that there are several gifts still under the Christmas tree in the station lobby and I should find some kids to give them to. I get the gifts out and see that there are 4, two marked “girl” and two marked “boy.” Now before I get to do my Santa thing, I want to smoke a Christmas cigar I’d been saving.

woman pushing carHere is where it gets good, but at the time I did not know it was good. There are several hills in Rampart that allow some cool views of downtown L.A., so I go looking for one to enjoy the view and have that smoke. I found myself going up a side street off Temple Street that I’d never been on before and could see that I was going to have a really neat view of downtown. The street is steep, so I know I will get a great view. About three quarters of the way up I see this small-framed woman pushing a shopping cart up the hill. Well heck, I am there to “Protect and Serve,” so I stop the cruiser and get out to help. The look on her face told me I was the last thing she expected.

We get to the top of the hill and for the first time I see two little girls, maybe 4 and 5 years old tagging along behind her. Their little noses are running and their hair is in disarray and they are wearing shawls instead of sweaters. It was a cold night.

Boom, the light comes on and I say, “Wait here.” This is all spoken in Spanish from here on and lucky for me I know just enough to embarrass myself. I get the two “girl” packages from my car and start walking toward the three waiting up the hill. As I get to the girls I say, “Merry Christmas” and hand the gifts to them. They are holding on to each other and look at mom. Mom has her hands over her mouth and she is trembling. She nods and gestures to them to take the gifts. They do, and I turn and ask if she has any more babies and she says, “two boys.” Heck, I got some for them too and go back to the car. When I get back to mom, she is crying softly, and the girls are smiling just a big as they can and just cradling those gifts. I place the boys’ gifts in her basket, which I see now contains clothes, either for washing or ironing.

When I turn to say goodbye, mom grabs my left hand and starts kissing it! She is still crying and starts with in Spanish, “Christ, oh thank you. Christ, oh thank you. Father, thank you. Thank you, Christ. Bless you sir. Bless you, sir. Father, oh Father, thank you.”

Guess what, this cold, tired middle-aged sergeant brought their only Christmas to these folks. Actually, I didn’t. Go figure, four gifts, the timing, the unfamiliar street, two girls, two boys. I got in my car and started driving off, when I looked in my review mirror, mom was crossing herself and did so until I couldn’t see her any more. Couldn’t tell that story without crying for many years. Wonder if the little girls remember that Christmas Eve when a sinner (I’m only human) brought them Christmas in the back of a Black and White. The whole thing did not hit me until hours later. Tonight, I just might take my cruiser to Rampart and finally have that cigar that I missed on that hill Christmas Eve, 1992.

Merry Christmaschristmas1

Mikey, 6L20


Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings: Drunks in the Park

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

Ramblings: Drunks in the Park

Rock GardenI was reading Mikey’s blog about “Short Dogs” and it sparked a very old memory. I started the police academy on Oct. 5, 1970. The first month they crammed our brains with criminal law, self-defense tactics, PT (physical training), which I was told was rougher than Marine Corp boot camp. They also had us throw some lead down range at some silhouette targets. The second month they sent us out to patrol for one day on weekends. We were as green as could be, but we were dressed as real cops and even had loaded guns.

My story begins with our fourth month. We’re getting a little cocky. Our walk is getting that swagger, but we still don’t have a clue how to do real police work. In the past your fourth month was spent in the field. You got to work patrol for two weeks, had driver training, a couple of days working with detectives and, don’t forget the thrill-packed trip to the coroner’s office. They showed you dead bodies and maybe even an autopsy. A lot in my class had been to Viet Nam so dead bodies were not a shock.
We were all looking forward to a whole month of no PT instructors yelling at us and making reference to our heritage! Our class was assigned to station security; guess where? That’s right, the police academy. I guess I was lucky, I got assigned day watch. That’s right, I’m guarding the police academy where just about everybody has a loaded gun. Weekends were nice not too many people around, but I still had a loaded gun. I felt kind of sorry for my classmates who got graveyard shift. Not too much going on after dark unless you wandered into the “Rock Garden.” The Rock Garden was behind the Academy Lounge where cops would have a refreshing beverage and unwind, often with members of the fairer sex. I heard the rock garden was like the last row of a drive-in movie. I have no personal knowledge; remember, I was married.

So, after two weeks of walking around the Academy I finally get to play policemen in the field. I’m assigned to Rampart day watch. Rampart is just west of downtown Los Angeles. My first day I’m assigned to work with a foot beat officer whose assignment is to patrol MacArthur park. I asked my partner what we do in MacArthur park on day watch and he says we arrest drunks. I’m thinking I ran 5 miles up and down hills around the academy and did push-ups as the sun was setting to arrest drunks? I then had an inspiration—arresting drunks beat the hell out of doing pushups at sundown.

Iranian Police dog training/photo courtesy Molosser Dogs


After coffee we head to the park. We drive up the ramp on the sidewalk and head down the foot path into the park. I’m not familiar with the drunks that might be in the park. At the first park bench, my partner stops about three feet away. The biggest Great Dane I ever saw walks up to my car window and sticks his enormous head inches from my face. I believe the dog had just completed some personal hygiene. I guess my expression was funny because my partner and the owner laughed.

The next park bench has a couple of old-timers. Sitting on the ground between them is a plain brown paper bag wrapped neatly around a cylindrical glass bottle. My partner asked them who does that bag belong to. Both deny any knowledge of the bag. My partner confiscates the bag and much to my surprise it contains a bottle of red wine. The bottle is emptied in the trash can in front of the men. I thought I saw a tear in one of men’s eyes.

man sitting on park benchThe next bench has four men sitting upright. We get out of the car for this group. Again, there’s a bottle in the brown paper bag on the ground. The men all have bloodshot eyes and one’s starting to lean to the port side. My partner asks the men to stand. None of them can. They seem to be a happy bunch as we put them into the back seat of our car.
This bottle of wine is placed in our older model Plymouth black and white.

police bookingWe drive to PAB (downtown) where the local jail is for Rampart Division. We pull into the back of the misdemeanor section of the jail and then my partner taught me a lesson I used for the next 35 years. He handed the bottle of wine that we had found in the park and handed it to the four men. They each took a long drink until the bottle was empty. No one complained that they preferred white wine. I walked the first drunk up to the booking officer and the officer called my first arrestee by his first name. They were happy and gave us no problems during booking.

My partner said to me, “Remember, they’re people and treat them with a little respect. They’re easier to book when happy.”

He also said, “Remember to use good officer safety tactics because even a drunk can be dangerous.”



Roll Call

Roll Call: Short Dogs #2

By Mikey, Retired LAPD

Ventura pursuit, the CHP and the spike strips

lapd cruiser rollingIt was early Summer ’93 and I was working Rampart Day Watch as the Watch Commander with the usual inside staff, a couple of desk officers, an assistant Watch Commander and eight units out on patrol. It was a Sunday, quiet and everything was going well until about 12:30 pm when a patrol unit broadcasted that they were in pursuit of a stolen vehicle northbound on Alvarado approaching the 101 freeway. The pursuit then proceeded onto the Northbound 101 and because traffic was light the stolen vehicle accelerated away from the officers.

I knew that we would lose communications with the unit if they got too far north so I asked for an air unit to respond. Communications said there were no air units available. I then called the CHP and asked if they had a unit with a spike strip that could intercept the pursuit and their watch commander told me that there was a pursuit coming south on the 101 freeway and when they were through with the southern pursuit, they’d assist us.

I told my assistant watch commander to handle the division, grabbed one of my desk officers, the watch commander’s cruiser and off we went. From the time I left the station until we got into Ventura all sorts of things went through my head. With no radio contact to keep me briefed, it really sucked! From about a mile out I saw my first view of the worst I could imagine, a column of thick black smoke! When we finally reached the scene there it was, the suspect vehicle, upside down, burning. My officers were standing at the rear of their unit watching the fire department extinguish the fire.

I asked the officers if they were all right and they said, “Yes.”

Then, I wanted to know how the driver got killed and asked, “What happened?”

The officers explained the pursuit and how they had a tough time staying up with the vehicle, how finally the CHP spiked the bad guys tires, how it went out of control, went off the road into the grass field and how it rolled a couple of times.

ktla car crash w lapdCrap. I was getting ill just thinking of the s—t storm this was gonna cause and making notifications. I asked, “How many people were in the car?”

One of the officers pointed to the back seat of his unit and said, “Just him.”

JUST HIM, the guy handcuffed in the back seat of the cruiser, the guy who didn’t get seriously killed, the guy who crawled away from the burning car, THAT GUY?
I was so fixated on the burning car that I didn’t see the suspect seated in the police car just inches away from us.

The ride back to Rampart was wonderful.


The Lieutenant and the new watch commander’s car

When you hear a LAPD officer refer to a “shop” he is talking about a police car. Each car is issued a “shop number,” meaning repairs in the auto shop were generated using this number. If the Air Unit was working a call with you and he wanted to direct vehicles on the ground he referred to the last three numbers of the shop. For example, “Shop 592, cover the intersection,” etc. So, in 1992, in Rampart, the PM Watch Lieutenant was out and about in a brand-new Watch Commander’s car when Northeast units go in pursuit.

The lieutenant was not fond of pursuits and if the thing sounds even a bit askew, he would terminate it.

lapd heloBut this was Northeast, not Rampart, in the pursuit. The pursuit wound its way through the hills of Northeast heading toward Rampart, so the lieutenant headed in that direction. The road narrowed and the lieutenant saw the air unit. He realized that the observer in the air unit was screaming, “Shop 592, the pursuit is coming at you; Shop 592, the suspect vehicle is approaching you, “Shop………………” Well, guess who driving shop 592? Yup, the lieutenant. He terminated the pursuit with a classic TC (traffic collision)!

Guess he hadn’t noticed the shop number of his “new” cruiser. For the next few days he wasn’t moving around the watch commander’s office as fast as he used to.



Ramblings by Hal

Ramblings Reprise: Foot Beat Stories 4

By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD

This is the conclusion of Hal’s Foot Beat Stories. Leave us a comment if you care to ask Hal about his life in LAPD. And as always, I’m here to answer questions, too.  –Thonie

I never expected the foot beat chapter to be this long but once I started, all these memories flooded my brain.  Don’t panic, I’m not ready to climb up on roof like those knuckleheads in Louisiana.  The fond memories even pushed out the thoughts of the ugly daily news.



I asked for and was given a Morning Watch Foot Beat.  I don’t think any other division in the city has a Morning Watch Foot Beat, but then none looked like Hollywood in the late 70’s.  When all the other night and strip clubs closed up Hollywood was just getting started.


My Lieutenant didn’t want me making a bunch of misdemeanor arrests, like lewd conduct in the porno theaters or drunks in a bar.  That was a job for vice.


I had almost 8 years on the job but felt as if I was on probation.  We had to produce or go back to a radio car, handling barking dogs, loud parties and explaining to citizens why we took 3 hours to handle their call for service.


We would clear roll call at 11:30 and park our police car in a taxi zone right next to the Hot Dog Stand.  Well, we were sort of a taxi, we just made one-way trips and didn’t charge a fare.  We would walk one round of the Hollywood Boulevard foot beat boundaries.  La Brea to Vine.  After Midnight there wasn’t much open on the east end and a waste of energy and shoe leather.  We would spend the next 6 hours in a 3 block radius of Hollywood Boulevard and Highland.


I learned some interesting tactics while walking a foot beat.  First, most crooks look up and down the street for a police car, they seldom look on the sidewalk for a foot beat cop.  I often could walk right up behind two guys on the Boulevard and look over their shoulder and see them exchange dope for money.  I also discovered I could walk right by two suspicious characters, turn down the next corner and circle back through the alley and watch them break into someone’s car.


We did some of our best work walking through dark alleys and parking lots behind Hollywood Boulevard.  Another foot beat tactic was dodging vomit, urine and used condoms.  Still want my job?  I often questioned the wisdom of putting carpets in the Watch Commanders Office.  No cop washes the bottom of their shoes before entering the station.


We often saw an empty car alone in a parking lot even when there was lots of free street parking.  Run the license plate for wants and bingo, it was stolen.  Other times we looked at the ignition, punched ignition meant it was stolen and not reported.  Now comes the hard part, you had to keep your eye on the stolen car, go get your own car and then hide it someplace where the suspect won’t see it.


Any cop who spent more than a day in patrol, knows how hard it is to hide a Black & White police car with a light bar.  It’s easier to hide a face pimple on prom night.


One of us would stay in the car, and the other was watching the stolen car, usually hiding behind a trash dumpster, with urine and vomit under your feet.


I won’t tell you about all the arrests we made walking a morning watch foot beat but we often led the watch in arrests.  Of course, we seldom got tied up handling radio calls.

We often free-lanced and responded to crimes where the suspect might still be in the area.  We also didn’t want to piss off the other hard working cops on our watch.


Yesterday’s radio car cop was my partner the next night.  If things got busy we would jump into our police car and handle radio calls.  I remember once the radio operator tried to assign me a radio call high in the Hollywood Hills. I agreed to handle the call but quoted a long delay, because I was on foot a mile and half from my car.


I was fortunate that I was given good partners to work with.  Every once in a while I would get a cop who didn’t want to work or for that matter, walk the foot beat.  One night I was assigned this cop who was known for being lazy.  I noticed that every half block I found myself walking alone.  I would look back and my partner was leaning against a closed business. Once he was sitting on a bus bench next to a homeless person.


His attitude changed when a suspect shot another drug dealer in the face with a shotgun behind the hot dog stand, 30 feet away from where we were standing.  He stayed pretty close for the rest of the night.  Two nights later we arrested the shooting suspect.  I had a snitch who told me which motel he was staying in.


I had a lot of fun walking the Hollywood Boulevard Foot Beat and I got to work with some great partners, J.J., Dan, Stan, Bill, Cliff and a host of other good cops.


Mike Castro walked the Hollywood and Western Foot Beat, (6FB4) with Dave Smith and Ken Hobbs and said it was a great job.  Other officers walked a foot beat in Ramp (Rampart) or Central Divisions and all agreed pounding a beat was a fun and rewarding job.


After 3 1/2 years, I was told that they needed my foot beat spot for a new radio car that would handle all the burglar alarms.  It was called a code 30 car and was staffed with Officers Jack Myers and Ron Venegas.  That’s right, they became the famous Hollywood Burglars.  They were the cops that broke into businesses to steal property–on duty.  I’d hate to be the supervisor that made that decision.  Walking a foot beat was the best of times, that later turned into the worst of times.  That will be another Ramblings story.


Today’s Hollywood Boulevard foot beat cops ride bikes or drive around in their cars.  It’s just a different time.  I was one of the lucky ones who got a little bit of the good ole days.



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