Archive for the ‘Sale of Narcotics’ Category

By ThinkGoat

Pensacola, Florida As I sit here and write this article, the rest of the cool people are hanging in my old stomping grounds soaking up the sun, the breeze, and digging their toes in the pristine white sand beaches of Gulf Shores, Alabama while listening to today’s line-up. Yeah, I tried to escape this shitty weather by entering a contest for a 3-day pass to The Hangout’s Music Festival through Coast 360 but they really hate Northerners. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it) Actually it came down to drawing a name out of the hat but I’m convinced they used the wrong one. Nonetheless, today wraps up a weekend of unbelievable musical talent that rocked the little coastal community I used to call home. Keller Williams, Alison Krauss and Union Station, Ben Harper, Trey Anastasio, Gov’t Mule, and about 30+ other bands are jamming their asses off where Hwy 59 runs into the water and I’m sitting in my living room watching Scooby doo. I could very easily be smashed on margaritas, donating to the Hangout’s mounting heap of money – all of which is being turned back in to the regional plight that lingers off the shores of this little slice of paradise. The oil spill. Not one penny is being made from this 3-day bash – the proceeds are being used by those who are fighting to preserve the coast line. And as I sit here anxiously awaiting introducing our latest idiot, I can’t help but wonder, since she’s so close to Gulf Shores, if she’d decided to hoard her crack and waited to sell it at the music festival instead of the undercover cop, if she would have been able to maintain her chosen lifestyle instead of facing some jail time. (more…)


By ThinkGoat

Southbury Connecticut

The campsite on the edge of the Pomperaug River where Michael Weaving took his last breath is a peaceful place. Tall stands of oak, maple and pine trees create a shady canopy for the leafy forest floor, which slopes toward the river, a pristine tributary of the mighty Housatonic where trout gather in deep pools and canoeists paddle through rapids in the spring, summer and fall. The house, a two-story Cape with a view of the river, was abandoned years ago, judging by its condition. The gray, shingled roof has holes in places, the windows have no glass and graffiti is painted on the walls and door. Inside, the concrete floor is covered in mud, and there is an overturned sink in a corner by a fireplace, which is strewn with black ashes. On the floor near a filthy mattress — the same mattress where Eisenbach told police he laid Weaving after he and Curley burned him — are dozens of faded pictures of babies and toddlers; on the mattress is a Polaroid of a young man holding an infant. Investigators say the pictures were in the house when they found Weaving’s body buried in a shallow grave about 20 feet from the fire pit and Indian Chair. (an imposing granite rock that looks and functions like a chair)  * excerpt from Source9  (more…)