3 Examples of Physiatrist’s Who Provided Questionable Defenses for Murderers

Good Day World!

 I have three examples of defense lawyers using physiatrists to provide questionable mental health defenses in murder trials for you today.

Don’t misunderstand me. I do believe people with genuine mental issues who commit crimes should get some consideration in a court of law. Remember the infamous “Twinkie defense?”

It’s cases like that where lawyers plead some obscure and outlandish conditions which supposedly made their client commit murder, that fry my grits!

You know what I’m talking about. I’ve gathered three examples for you here – two recent and one from last year to consider.

One of the stories describes a killer who got away with killing four people – using what has been described as the “Richie Rich” defense.

Another story shows how a murderer’s lawyer tried to use a questionable defense of blaming the killer’s mother for the murder. And the third story is still ongoing.

------------------------------------------

Let’s start off with Jason Bohn, who strangled his girlfriend and tried to blame it on Intermittent Explosive Disorder. See his story on 48 Hours A Raging Son See what happened in this trial.

Jason Bohn was a Columbia graduate who had apparently overcome a rough childhood to become a successful Wall Street banker. But then he brutally murdered, and tortured, his girlfriend, a Weight Watchers executive.

His lawyers didn’t try to deny he killed her, but claimed his mother’s neglect 30 years ago pushed him to commit the brutal torture/murder.

------------------------------------------

The chief prosecutor in the murder trial of Oscar Pistorius said Monday that the double-amputee athlete should be placed under psychiatric observation after an expert called by the defense said the runner has an anxiety disorder.

Judge Thokozile Masipa has not yet ruled on the request. Prosecutor Gerrie Nel said he had no other option but to ask for a study of Pistorius' mental health following testimony by a psychiatrist, who said the Olympian's anxiety could have shaped the way he responded to perceived threats.

-----------------------------------------

Ethan Couch, 16, was facing 20 years for killing four people in a drunk driving incident.

His wealthy family hired a top gun trial attorney and leading expert who invoked what could be called the Richie Rich defense.

Couch’s long spoiled lifestyle in the top one percent left him uncaring and irresponsible . . . and left four people dead. You’ll never believe what happens.

Time for me to walk on down the road…

Take your politically correct terms and shove them!

Good Day World!

The term “politically correct,” is an oxymoron.

When I first heard it used while working as an editor for a weekly newspaper called The Desert Trail in 29 Palms, California, I thought it was so stupid it would surely go the way of the fabled Dodo bird and the nickel candy bar.

In a 1983 “As It Stands” column, I implored readers to reject the term because it was a political ploy to push certain agendas. I pointed out the new name for a manhole cover was a subterranean ingress and egress aperture cover. That got a lot of laughs.

Somewhere along the line, the laughs slowed down and people started getting serious/stupid about the term. To my dismay, it didn’t go away. Instead it spread like poison oak in our language garden. It became so pervasive that the PC police think nothing of calling insane people selectively perceptive, or some other equally non-descriptive term.

Call me an old fuddy duddy, but I saw no problem with saying someone without hair was bald. Now, no one is bald, they’re comb free. Remember when someone had BO (body odor)? That same person today is said to have nondiscretionary fragrance. Please!

You know something isn’t right when censorship is foisted off as selective speech and drunks are referred to as spatially perplexed. Politically correct terms came about in order to tell people how they should act. No, really.

Political Correctness denotes language, ideas, policies, and behavior seeking to minimize social and institutional offense in occupational, gender, racial, sexual orientation, certain other religions, beliefs or ideologies, disability, and age-related contexts, and as purported by the term, doing so to an excessive extent, according to Wikipedia.

In other words, political correctness is out of control! My clumsy (excuse me - uniquely coordinated) attempt to illustrate this contention comes with plenty of examples. We no longer just have earthquakes, we have geological corrections. Despite that, when the earth starts to shake like a giant baby’s rattle I will still scream “earthquake!”

If we don’t already have a PC term for crime rate, I imagine civic leaders would be good with the term “street activity index.” I have to admit - with guilty pleasure - I kinda like the following PC terms for some jobs.

Now, when you get a job in a restaurant you don’t have to tell your friends you’re just a dishwasher. No, your title will be “utensil sanitizer” and you’ll wear a snappy white apron.

How about janitor? It’s kinda of a blah description, but when you change it to “sanitation engineer” you’re suddenly vaulted into white collar realms when describing your job. The same goes for the garbage man; who is now a sanitation engineer too.

Conversation between a father and a lifeguard who just saved his daughter from being pulled out to sea:

Father: “Thank you! Thank you for saving my drowning daughter!”
Lifeguard: “No problem. I save aquatically challenged people all the time.”

Takes the snap out of that conversation doesn’t it?

I can see where calling someone “differently weighted” instead of fat would seem a kinder description, but as far as descriptions go it’s useless. What’s differently weighted supposed to mean? Too fat or too skinny? Perhaps being at a perfect weight? I think you can see my point here.

I refuse to consider “motivationally dispossessed” as another term for lazy.

Just for a laugh, if you want to take this whole PC discussion to the next level, let’s look at some political correct terms for females and males.

For the Women:
* Her breasts will never sag, they will lose their vertical hold.
* She does not snore, she is nasally repetitive.
* She does not get drunk, she becomes verbally dyslexic.
* She is not a bad driver, she is automotively challenged.

For the Men:
* He is not a sex machine. He is romantically automated.
* He is not a male chauvinist pig, he has swine empathy.
* He does not get lost all the time, he discovers alternate destinations.
* He does not fart and belch, he is gastronomically expressive.

You may think I’m ignorant (factually unencumbered), but you have to admit the PC police continue to clutter the language with terms best left under rocks!

Time for me to walk on down the road…

Happy Mother’s Day to My Brown-Eyed Girl and All the Moms Everywhere!

 Good Day World!

 And a Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers out there!

A little history about Mother’s Day:

It’s a holiday honoring motherhood that is observed in different forms throughout the world.

The American incarnation of Mother’s Day was created by Anna Jarvis in 1908 and became an official U.S. holiday in 1914. Ironically, Jarvis would later denounce the holiday’s commercialization and spent the latter part of her life trying to remove it from the calendar.

While dates and celebrations vary, Mother’s Day most commonly falls on the second Sunday in May and traditionally involves presenting mothers with flowers, cards and other gifts.

Celebrations of mothers and motherhood can be traced back to the ancient Greeks and Romans, who held festivals in honor of the mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele, but the clearest modern precedent for Mother’s Day is the early Christian festival known as “Mothering Sunday.”

Once a major tradition in the United Kingdom and parts of Europe, this celebration fell on the fourth Sunday in Lent and was originally seen as a time when the faithful would return to their “mother church”—the main church in the vicinity of their home—for a special service.

Over time the Mothering Sunday tradition shifted into a more secular holiday, and children would present their mothers with flowers and other tokens of appreciation. This custom eventually faded in popularity before merging with the American Mother’s Day in the 1930s and 1940s. (source)

My mother passed away years ago, but I still remember her.

My wife Shirley (photo), and mother to our three sons, is everything a good mother represents. Her all-encompassing love extends beyond family. She’s ready to ‘mother” anyone in need regardless of their age, gender, or race.

I make a point of trying to do something special every Mother’s Day for her, but have learned to treat her like she’s special every day of the year. That happens after 39 years of marriage. Happy Mothers Day My Love – my brown-eyed girl!

Time for me to walk on down the road…

 

Sharing the Benefits of Being an ‘Old Toot’

Good Day World!                                     
                                         
I’m enjoying being an old toot (aka old coot) since I became eligible a few years ago.

In case you wonder about the difference between an old coot and an old toot, the latter has a better sense of humor. I’ve already seen one of the benefits derived from my relatively new status.

I forgot I was wearing red house slippers the other day when I went to the supermarket, and it didn’t bother me! There was a time when I would have been so embarrassed I would never have entered that store again for fear someone working there might remember seeing me wear them.

You know what people think when they see an old toot shuffling around in his bedroom slippers; “Who let that old fool out of the house in his slippers?” Or, “Look at that guy. That’s never going to happen to  me!”

But now I don’t care what people think. So what if I’m wearing slippers in public? It’s better than forgetting to wear my pants in public. Even old toots can’t get away with that.

Unless they live in  San Francisco, where it’s legal to walk around without pants or anything else on in public. They have nude activists who constantly campaign for nudity. People like "Nude Woody", Tortuga, Gypsy Taub, and "Naked Marvin” are part of the landscape.

Just the idea of a bunch of old coots/toots walking around in their birthday suits makes me shudder. It must be hell on tourism where they hang out.

Old toots do have limits. At least some of us do. I count on my wife to notice if I’m missing a piece of clothing or something drastic like that when going out of the house. Little things do get past her occasionally, like slippers, or shirts on backward, but she’s normally a reliable backup. She is much younger than I and assures me that she will never join the old toot’s club.

She doesn’t know what she’s missing. If she joins the club she won’t have to worry if her hair changes color and is streaked with sneaky silver strands. There’s no need to impress anyone when you‘re an old toot.

My days of  trying to look good for every female on the planet are gone, and with them the many vanities that younger people have about their appearance. In other words I’m a slob. Not really, my wife wouldn’t allow that, but I have that certain disheveled look old toots get.

I have my lap dog, a precious pug named Molly, further securing my old toot credentials. I mumble to myself (you couldn’t call it talking) when writing. I resist new technological innovations just because. I don’t slide down the stair railing anymore.

If you asked me about any of the current musicians I would say something like, “They don’t make music like the Led Zeppelin anymore,” or “You call that music?” Old toots and coots simply don’t listen to music newer than the 70s era.

It’s taken me years of study to become an old toot and now I’m reaping the benefits. I can communicate with other old toots I don’t even know who remember the Rat Pack with Frank Sinatra,  Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin, Peter Lawford and Joey Bishop.

I don’t like being called a Baby Boomer. I’m more comfortable with old toot. There are no expectations for old toots. Baby boomers had a lot of high hopes. Many  wonder if they sold out to “the man,” and why they failed to change the world into one big utopia.

I don’t suffer any past remorse’s crammed with social expectations at this point in my life. As Popeye once said, “I yam who I yam.” And that’s an old toot happy to be grazing on books that can be held by hand, or newspapers that leave ink on my fingers.

I don’t mind being around other old toots for a little while. But too many in one room becomes a challenge for my one operating ear (with the help of a hearing aide).

By the way, old toots (like coots) tend to be hard of hearing. My wife’s hearing is so acute I almost believe her when she says she’s is not going to be an old toot, or coot.

I realize not everyone wants to be an old toot. Some people would rather be known as active seniors, or elder statesmen. Something that rings with more dignity. Something that indicates they’re still vital and not nearing an ungraceful senility.

In the end, it’s all about individual style as we hit a certain age. On the boardwalk of life, I’m proudly stumbling along on bad knees, confident that I’m an old toot who’ll always have plenty of like-minded company.

If you find yourself belching and passing gas at the same time when walking you could well be on the way to becoming an old toot yourself!

Time for me to walk on down the road…