News from the Front

Got some good news: my fiance is still immobilized in her hospital bed with enough needles in her to earn a place in your mother’s sewing cabinet, but at least she’s stabilizing to the point where they can decide what to do next. One complication is the impalement of her stomach received in the line of duty many years ago.

So we’re not out of the woods, but at least we may be getting to more open terrain.

Also, I’ve had word from the leadership at our local NAV (social security administration) that they do in no way endorse the abuses by my family in this matter, and I’ve been pointed to the right point of escalation, which is very satisfactory indeed. The wheels of justice, they grind.

Now, to my guns.

The local police wanted me to plead guilty to a charge of negligence in having my guns out of their 800-pound safe during my photography session, which admittedly took a bit more than a day. They were suposed to contact me today to check how i’d like to plead, but so far, nothing. So there we are. However, I’d like to make a suggestion, if I may:

Give me my stuff back. And my license. I’m supposed to have notice before an inspection anyway, so this was both NAV and the Police abused for malicious and false purpose. I guess it was a bit reckless of me to just open the door, but then again, nobody expects the inquisition.

Not that I expect to have much use for these things, my shoulder is still not competition quality and I’ll probably have rather insurmountable problems getting to the range. Maybe some of the boys in blue would like to carpool to that hole in the ground in Lunde that PI54 used? There’s no doubt my steel plate could use the exercise. Just a thought. A bit unconventional, maybe.

Further, a question to any legal heads reading this:

The last I actually saw of any of my family was a long time ago when they filled a room in my house, from floor to ceiling, with belongings – dumping whatever was in there in a pile on the living room floor. Much of it seems to belong to my ex-wife, a militant living with a female undertaker in Arendal. I’m going to give a removals firm a fixed date this summer to come and get it at their cost; if I actually see any of them I’m calling the cops. Question: can I just charge room rent for the years I’ve had a room barred by this lump of crap?

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