magnum enforcer viii

Come to find out that Mystery’s real name was Mr. Ree.

That was convenient.

We watched Maxwell for several days, plotting our trap. Unfortunately he strangled several more prostitutes under that watch. We did nothing about it. But we pushed forward with our plan.

One night, while Maxwell was cruising down Sunset, he fell into our trap.

“Hey sweetie,” Maxwell said while picking up a prostitute. “Wanna make some cash?”

She giggled and got in.

They drove up to the hills while I tailed them. They stopped in Griffith Park then Maxwell and his friend climbed into the backseat.

Maxwell started kissing his way up her legs before removing her panties. As he put his head between her legs, instead of a vagina he put into his mouth, it was a cock…Mr. Ree’s fully erect cock.

“Surprise surprise,” Mr. Rees said.

Maxwell attempted to stab Mr. Ree. The two wrestled in the backseat before I opened the door and ordered Maxwell out with my 357. Mr. Ree got out in full drag, cock still hard. Maxwell had his pants around his ankles.

“Alright, you caught me,” Maxwell said. “So what? They’re not going to throw me in jail.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” I replied. “Hands in the air.”

Maxwell lifted up his arms. Under his sleeve was a detonator. His car exploded, sending the three of us flying through the air. Maxwell got up and escaped by stealing my Pontiac Aztec.

I laid in the street for awhile in a daze. I got up and saw Mr. Ree mortally wounded. He was laying in a pool of his own blood. I held him in my arms and attempted to stop the bleeding.

“I’m sorry Mr. Ree,” I said. “I want to thank you for your help.”

“It was….fun,” he replied. “It doesn’t look like I’ll be a registered sex offender after all.”

With those words, he died in my arms.

I hot wired a Kia Soul and went after Maxwell. I cut him off at the intersection of Franklin and Los Feliz. I rammed my piece of shit into his piece of shit. The shattered glass littered the road.

I climbed out of the wreckage. Maxwell was still in the Pontiac. He was unconscious. I walked up to the destroyed vehicle, 357 on ready. I checked to see if he was dead. At that moment, Maxwell fired his 9mm.

The bullet grazed my left kidney. Maxwell climbed out of the car and ran off. As I was on the ground, I fired off a couple of shots, missing him entirely.

I pursued him on foot.

He ran into a bean factory. As beans were falling off an assembly line into a hopper, Maxwell fired a few rounds into the cogs. The line went haywire and beans went everywhere, obstructing my path. I once again fired shots indiscriminately down the line, jeopardizing the lives of countless workers.

Maxwell exited the factory and ran onto the football field of North Hollywood High. A game was being played. I couldn’t get a clear shot. So I tackled the quarterback, grabbed the football and aired it out in an attempt to hit Maxwell. Unfortunately a DB intercepted it and I had to evade tacklers to get off the field.

Maxwell continued to shoot his 9mm. But he was out of bullets.

He chose Chuck E Cheese as his last stand.

Maxwell went in through the kitchen. He threw pots, pans, and pizzas as I chased him. Unfortunately I wasted several bullets shooting down the pizzas.

As he ran into the main dining area, I shouted “stop that man!”

Chuck E Cheese himself went in for the tackle. Maxwell fought him off, but he was cornered.

The jig was up and Maxwell raised his hands. I lifted up the 357.

“For LP,” he asked.

“No Maxwell,” I said. “For me.”

I shot him in cold blood and his body flew into the ball pit. As the screams of children echoed through the restaurant, I walked outside.

I could hear the sounds of police sirens in the distance. I walked down to the beach holding the 357. As I stared out across the water, I took one last look at the 357 and tossed it into the ocean.

THE END

magnum enforcer vii

“Won’t you stay, James,” Stacy asked. “I think you f##### me a new s$$$$.

“I can’t,” I said. “Los Angeles needs me. I’ll call you later.” I grabbed my coat and hat and walked to my car, a yellow Chevy SSR. It must have been 2:30 in the morning.

As I was driving down Mission, I rolled down the window. I had to air out a really bad fart. A PT cruiser rolled up next to me and threw in a stick of dynamite. I could have easily thrown it out, but instead I jumped out and the Chevy careened into an intersection before it exploded.

Several motorists were killed or maimed.

It was Maxwell, I thought. He knows that I’m on his trail. It was time to bring in the big guns.

I returned to City Hall to seek out Officer Mystery. I caught him beating off to gay porn on his work computer.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said as he stood up to button his pants. “I’m not gay. My penis is gay, but I’M not gay.”

“Look,” I told him, “Maxwell just tried to kill me. I’m going after him and I need your help.”

“Why me?”

“Why did you tell me about Maxwell at all? I don’t know what your roll is in all of this, but something tells me that you’re tired of this corruption. We need to take a stand.”

“Yeah…about that…”

“What? You’re a bent cop too?”

“I’m not a cop at all, actually.”

“Then who the hell are you?”

“I actually work on behalf of Admiral Majors. I’ve been the one watching you this whole time, that’s how the Admiral knows you’re an elite killer.”

“So he’s still trying to recruit me? I told him to fuck off.”

“When the man sees something he wants, he gets it. If you know what I mean…”

“Well I see that you’re not going to be of much help,” I said, “sorry to interrupt your porno time.” I turned around and stated walking away.

“Please wait,” Mystery said. “I will help you. But in exchange, I need you to talk to the judge about dropping the PI charge you gave me. He’s gonna make me register as a sex offender.”

“Deal,” I replied. We shook hands.

“Now you better go wash your hands,” Mystery said.

killing james bond

Yo! Respect to Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson for killing off perhaps the most important character in film history (spoilers! 🤷‍♂️) Don’t believe that James Bond isn’t the most important? Well without this franchise, we probably wouldn’t have the modern action blockbuster. He was the model for the postmodern, morally questionable hero…before Han Solo, before Indiana Jones, before John McClain. James Bond was doing that shit before everyone.

And now he’s dead.

That takes balls.

I say fuck the fanboys. As Star Trek II director Nicholas Meyer said when he was told that he couldn’t kill Spock (paraphrase): “of course you can, as long as you do it well.”

Did they do it well? Don’t know. No Time To Die hasn’t been released in the States yet (they probably didn’t). But I will respect any filmmaker that takes chances.

Audiences be damned.

So where does the franchise go from here? The answer is obvious: HBO Max (or Apple TV, or Netflix, or Amazon Prime, etc). The James Bond Expanded Universe on television is the next logical step.

“But nobody cares about that universe without James Bond”

Perhaps. But the good thing about this universe is that the timeline does not matter. Seriously. Does Goldeneye happen before or after the events of Live and Let Die? Does it matter? Is Ralph Fiennes’ M the same as Bernard Lee’s? Does THAT matter?

You see, nothing in the James Bond timeline matters. With the exception of the Daniel Craig films, each film and each actor sort of takes place in its own timeline.

So in this James Bond extended universe, James Bond is still alive because why not?

So is James Bond the main character in this new series? If yes, then the series writes itself.

But if the producers made this dramatic move in No Time To Die just so they can free themselves to explore this universe, here’s my pitch (since Barbara and Michael aren’t taking my calls):

Series name: 00

Characters: Ralph Fiennes as M, Ben Whishaw as Q, Naomi Harris as Eve Moneypenney, Rory Kinnear as Tanner

New characters:

001: (Male, 50-60yrs) An old Irish bastard. Hard hitter, hard drinker. Has been a 00 longer than anyone. Was actually a family man at some point against the wishes of Her Majesty’s Service, but naturally fucked it up. Has been wanting to reconnect with his son for years, but his son wants nothing to do with him.

002: (Male, 40s) Borderline autistic, has no close personal relationships. But make no mistake: this mother fucker can kill. Not much is known about his background.

003: (Female, 20s) the newest member of the service. She was one of the first women to get into the SAS before joining MI6. Fresh off of her first mission, she appears to be experiencing a degree of PTSD. 001 takes her under his wing and treats her as a surrogate daughter to make up for his deficiencies as a father.

004: (Male, 20-early 30s) a total cad. Along with James Bond, he often stays in trouble with M. Not liked by many in M16. A snarky, fratish type.

005: (Female, 40-50s) a seasoned veteran of MI6. There’s no situation she can’t handle masterfully. Often a part of M’s “A-Team”, she gets dispatched on the more difficult missions. The perfect female counterpart of James Bond, an expert seductress.

Recurring characters:

006: Alec Trevelyan (Male, 30-50)-James Bond’s best friend in the service. However, he holds a secret grudge against the British government. Will later be “betrayed” by 007.

007: James Bond (Male, 30-50)- The GOAT.

The Story:

M is ripping one of his agents a new asshole. It’s 001. He’s too old, M says. He’s a drunk and they already have enough alcoholics on the force (James Bond). But there’s still one more mission for 001.

“Don’t cock it up,” says M.

It’s not a difficult mission, but he’s getting a partner: 003. 001 resents this but follows orders. He banters with Moneypenny and goes to Q to gather his equipment. But instead of the flirty charm of 007, he’s cantankerous and crusty. He understands none of the technology that Q gives him.

001 and 003 go through the usual formula: they go undercover, enjoy the finer things in life, go to bed with numerous individuals, and cause plenty of property damage. And they do it with their own spin and charm. However, the mustache-twirling villain has a much bigger plot under his sleeve, one which has international implications.

With the plot spread globally, the mission comes under the direction of Tanner. We are introduced to the other 00 agents and their individual missions in different parts of the world.

But when things start to get real, M has no other choice but to bring in the big guns: 006 and 007. This culminates in 007s supposed “betrayal“ of 006, and while Bond temporarily plays the hero, 001 and 003 overcome their differences to save the day.

The mission is interwoven with the personal drama of 001 and 003.

Bond once said that 00s often have short life expectancies. 001 is aware that he faces death at every turn; the next mission could be his last. And he has been on too many missions. His demise in the season finale will serve as a reminder to 003: death is never an option.

magnum enforcer vi

I tailed Maxwell to a rub-n-tug in Santa Monica. I sat in the car and waited. I must have gone through an entire pack of cigarettes. After two hours, I went inside.

“Yes, I’m having pain in my groin region and I need it stretched out,” I told the receptionist.

Maxwell came out with a towel around his waist. “Uh, hi James. It’s not what it looks like.”

“Hello Maxwell,” I said as I feigned stupidity. “What does this look like?”

“I just come here to get my prostate massaged. It gets flared.”

I took out a cigarette. “There’s no smoking in here, sir,” the receptionist said. I replaced it with a toothpick. “You got nothing to worry about with me, Maxwell,” I said. “Remember, I’m not on the LAPD anymore.”

“Right.” He gave an awkward laugh. “Well I guess I’ll see you around.”

I eyeballed him as he walked away.

I followed him around town for a few days…to the bars, to the gay clubs, to Knots Berry Farm…but I couldn’t bust him. I was growing tired. I drank. I tried heroin. But I couldn’t shake him from my mind.

Maxwell was good. Too good. But I knew eventually he’d fuck up. And when he did, I’d be there to bust him.

Finally I caught a break.

He picked up a prostitute off Sunset. They drove up to the hills and pulled off to a stop overlooking the Valley. It was late. Too late.

I had to stay back. I could’ve easily been spotted. I perched on top of a ledge overlooking their spot. The windows fogged up in Maxwell’s car. I couldn’t see in.

After several hours without movement, I feared the worst. I pulled out the 357 and walked towards the vehicle. I opened the passenger side door and there laid a strangled prostitute.

Maxwell was nowhere to be found.

Damn it, I thought. How could he have escaped?

Then I heard a beeping. There in the glove box was a timer counting down to zero. I tried to run but the explosion knocked me back several feet.

I got up and checked myself for injuries. There were none. I’m invincible.

I waited next to the smoldering remains for the fire department and the LA Police Chief to arrive. “You’re no longer on the force,” the Chief said. “The is is an official police investigation.”

“Sir,” I replied, “how well do you trust Ellis Shitburg Maxwell?”

“With LP dead, he’s now my best officer. I’d trust him with my wife.”

“This is Maxwell’s car. Last night there was a dead prostitute inside. Don’t you get it? He’s the Hillside Choker!”

“Now you are way out of line James! Charles Krauthammer was the killer and you busted him! The case is CLOSED! You hear me? CLOSED!”

“Will you listen to reason and evidence? Maxwell and Charles are in cahoots! The mayor said himself that crime has gotten out of hand! Maxwell has taken matters into his own hands! He’s gone renegade sir! RENEGADE!”

The Chief got right in my face. “Now you listen here James, and you listen good. There is no vigilante conspiracy in the LAPD. NONE! Not on my watch! Now I am telling you to walk away from this crime scene before I bring you in as a suspect!”

I walked away.

That night I got drunk and started thinking about LP. I stumbled up to Stacy’s door and began pounding. She just put the kids to bed.

“Have you been drinking,” she asked.

“Just started.”

She invited me in poured a vodka. We both sat on the couch.

“How are the kids,” I asked.

“Brutus has taken his father’s death hard. He’s been strangling the neighborhood animals, dissecting them, and leaving the remains on the owner’s porch. Laquisha’s been missing since the funeral.”

I reached out my hand and put it on hers. “And how have you been doing?”

“I’ve been struggling. I just miss LP so much. He was a great husband.”

“I miss him too,” I said.

We both stared into each other’s eyes. We leaned in and kissed.

As I was ramming Stacy silly, I couldn’t help but think of LP… how he was up there watching over us…furiously masturbating in heaven.

magnum enforcer v

“Damn it James,” the police chief said to me at City Hall. “You’re a murderous bastard, but you get results. The rifle in Charles Krauthammer’s exploded car matches the ballistics in LP Anderson’s killing perfectly. Well done.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Good job James,” Officer Maxwell said. I nodded back.

“The mayor will be pleased with this despite the property damage done to the city of Long Beach,” the Chief continued. “Please turn in your badge. Your work here is done.”

I took out my badge and looked at it. “I’d still like to clear out a few of the suspects before this case is closed,” I told the Chief. “I want to be certain that the same shooter that killed LP is also our serial killer.”

Maxwell spoke up. “Our department has conclusively determined that Charles Krauthammer is our killer.”

“You did an excellent job here James,” the Chief said. “No need to second guess yourself. You’re one hell of a detective.”

I handed over the badge.

“Gentlemen,” I said. “It’s been an honor serving the Los Angeles Police Department.”

I returned to my office.

“Is there anything I can do for you James,” Izzy asked. “Coffee, sandwich, drink, hand job? Please let me do something for you.”

“I just want to be left alone for awhile,” I replied.

I shut the door to the office, closed the blinds, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon…the last one LP and me shared. I poured a glass and raised a toast.

“So long LP,” I said.

Seconds later there was a knock on the door.

“Office hours are closed,” I shouted.

The door opened and our Mystery Officer, the one I threatened to shoot at City Hall while shittin and pissin, came in. He sat down and put his feet on the desk.

“You think you’re so smart don’t ya,” he asked.

“No”

“Charles Krauthammer is dead and you can play the hero.”

“What are you on about?”

Officer Mystery sat up in his seat and leaned in. “There’s a lot more to this story than you can possibly imagine.”

I took out another glass and poured him a bourbon. “Talk,” I said.

“Your friends at City Hall, you did them a favor by killing Charles. You did their dirty work. You covered their tracks.”

“Okay?”

“Charles was a patsy. Sure he killed your boy LP, but he’s just one man. You and me both know that crime in this city runs deep. Those prostitutes up in the hills? That’s the work of someone else…or someones.”

“Stop jackin me around. Spit it out. Who’s behind this?”

“Officer Ellis Shitburg Maxwell.”

magnum enforcer iv

“Here lies Lucinda Patricia Arquette Anderson,” spoke the priest at the funeral. “He was brutally stabbed in the throat, nearly decapitated, by sadistic killer that’s still on the loose and terrorizing Los Angeles as we speak.”

Stacy Anderson was weeping in front of his casket. Her two children, Brutus and Laquisha, were also in attendance.

“Your husband was a good man Mrs. Anderson,” I told her.

“He spoke very highly of you,” she said as she wiped away the tears. “He hoped that someday you two could run a train on me. He wanted you to take me from behind while he sat in the shadows and masturbated. I’m gonna miss him.”

She broke down in tears again.

“If you or your family ever need anything,” I said. “Just give me a call.”

As I walking back to my car, the LAPD Chief came up and decked me in the face.

“You got my best officer killed,” he said. “If the mayor didn’t think so highly of you, I’d take you up to the hills and bury you alive!”

I got up and wiped the blood from my nose. “Chief,” I said. “I had a major breakthrough on this case. Give me another week and I’ll have this killer in custody.”

The Chief grabbed me by the coat and pushed me against the car. “One more week,” he said. “If this son of a bitch is not dead or behind bars, you’re gonna have a bigger problem than some serial killer.”

Officer Maxwell pulled the Chief off of me and cooled him down. I lit up a cigarette.

“We found another body. Up in Melrose,” Maxwell said to me.

“I know.”

“What’s the plan now?”

“I’m going after him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Charles Krauthammer.”

Maxwell nodded. “Let me know if you need my assistance.”

I flicked away my cigarette and nodded back. “I’ll let you know.”

I drove down to Long Beach at night, past the doppers, pimps, and prostitutes. “If only I could bust all of you,” I said to myself

I pulled up to the strip club. “Where can I find Charles,” I asked the bartender.

“Who’s asking,” the man replied.

I grabbed him by the wife beater and flashed my badge. “LAPD,” I said.

“He’s in the VIP room.”

And there was Charles getting a lap dance. I shoved a hundred dollar bill in the stripper’s underwear and told her to beat it. I sat down next to him.

“Sorry man,” Charles said. “If you’re looking to buy, I ain’t selling.”

I pressed my 357 up to his rib cage.

“I ain’t buying,” I replied. “I’m taking. You’re coming with me.”

He raised his hands. “What’s this about?”

“Sgt. LP Anderson.”

He lowered his hands and began to laugh. “I read about him in the papers. Sorry to hear about your loss, copper.”

“I’m gonna bust ya”

“For what? You can’t link me to his death.”

The bartender quietly snuck around the corner. I caught him out of the corner of my eye before he fired his shotgun. I fell to the ground and pumped three bullets into his chest. Charles escaped.

Strippers and patrons scattered out of the bar when the shots rang. I fired another shot into Charles’ rear windshield as he sped away in his 97 Cutlass.

I pursued him in my Chevy SSR. I was able to easily overtake him as I fired a round into his front passenger tire. Sparks flew as he drifted back and forth across the road before crashing into a guardrail.

His car teetered over the edge of a cliff overlooking the beach. The morning sun was starting to rise. I walked over to the car.

“Help me man,” he yelped. Charles was trying not to disturb the balance of the vehicle.

I stood there and glared.

“You can’t let me die! You’re a cop!”

“Am I?”

I kicked the side of the vehicle and it went careening down to the rocky beach below.

Then it inexplicably exploded.

magnum enforcer iii

LP and I got rip roarin drunk on the stakeout. We shared some laughs while we sat on a rooftop in Culver City over night. We watched the airplanes fly overhead as they began their descent into LAX.

“You know,” LP said. “I watched this city go to hell in a hand basket. When I joined the force, I wanted to serve my community. I wanted to do some good. Instead the city got worse.”

“The city’s always been a shithole, LP,” I replied.

“20 years I’ve been a cop. I’m really looking forward to retirement.”

I took a big hit off the Evan Williams green label and handed it over. “Just take a knee for the rest of your career,” I said. “Pick up your retirement check and take Stacy to Jamaica like you’ve always wanted. You’re just one man, you can’t change this city. No one can.”

“You’re right.”

LP looked down the scope of the M82 sniper rifle. Something caught his eye.

“Hey James, check this out. Get one hand free.”

As I peeped out through a windows cross the street, there was a woman decked out in BDSM whipping some poor sap with a contraption over his cock.

“That’s disgusting LP.”

He laughed and looked back through the scope. “Oh yeah! I wish Stacy would do that to me!”

LP’s finger slipped and he accidentally fired a round. The glass to the woman’s window shattered and the bullet hit the man on his bare ass.

“What are you doing LP?”

“Sorry. Got trigger happy,” he replied with a smile.

I looked up to the roof of the woman’s building and there was a sniper pointing his rifle at us.

“Get down LP!”

We dropped to the ground and the sniper opened fire. “Give me your 357, James. I’m going after him,” LP said. “Stay up here and return fire.”

LP ran down the fire escape and into the building next door. As the sniper reloaded, I got up and fired several shots. When I looked back through the scope, no one was there.

I took out a 9mm and ran down the stairs. As I approached the building, the sniper ran out the front door and fired his pistol in my direction.

Just then, Officer Maxwell pulled up in his patrol car. “Go check on LP,” I commanded. “He’s inside!”

I chased after the perpetrator. When I got a clear shot, I fired indiscriminately in his direction and emptied the clip. However, I lost him down the dark alleyways of Culver City.

I ran back to the building. “I’m sorry James,” Officer Maxwell said. There in the stairwell was LP’s lifeless body.

He was stabbed in the throat. I picked up the 357 from LPs hands. He didn’t get a shot off.

“Did you get a look at the killer,” Maxwell asked.

I shook my head.

“The chief’s gonna be pissed,” he replied.

I returned to City Hall. It was still dark. I was looking for the mystery officer I threatened to shoot on the toilet earlier.

He was sneaking around the bushes. He was looking for a place to piss. When I tackled him, his dick was still out and piss went everywhere. I put the 357 to his forehead.

“LP is dead,” I said.

“I had nothing to do with that!”

“Who does?!”

“I ain’t telling you shit!”

I cocked the 357. “Listen here mother fucker,” I said. “I’m clinically insane. Have you never heard of me? I’ve probably killed 152 people and I’m ready to kill the 153rd. If you don’t give me a name, I’ll splatter your brains all over City Hall. Do not play with me!”

The mystery man finished pissing himself. “Alright alright,” he said. “Look, there’s a man named Charles Krauthammer. He lives in the basement at a strip club in Long Beach. He might be your man.”

“How do you know him?”

“I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me.”

I let the man go and wrote him a citation.

“What’s this for,” he asked.

“Now that I’m a cop, I’m giving you a citation for public indecency. Have fun on the sex offender registry. I’ll see you in court.”

Ranking the NFL uniforms (Part 1)

In the National Football League, uniforms are important. It’s more important than in any other sport, anywhere.

If you’re gonna deliver an ass kicking, you better look good doing it. Because when you look your best, you play your best.

So here’s my ranking of all 32 uniforms, starting with #32-20.

32. Los Angeles Rams

What pisses me off about this is that the Rams did have THE BEST uniforms before SoFi Stadium got lazy and decided its two teams needed to have similar color schemes. I guess it’s too much work to redecorate the stadium each week. It’s not like any other stadium does that (MetLife).

But this new look just looks cheap: the logo, the fade from white to yellow, everything.

31. Cleveland Browns

Probably only me and Cleveland fans like the team logo: the orange helmet. But there’s nothing extraordinary about the Brown’s uniform, at least historically. And that’s okay. Being boring and underwhelming fits the team perfectly.

What pisses me off though is how they keep fucking with the basic design. Just leave well enough alone. Plus the number on the side of the helmet looks like shit. I don’t care if it’s for their “75th Anniversary” or whatever.

30. Philadelphia Eagles

Don’t get me wrong, the Eagles helmet might be the best design in the NFL. But that bluish-green just sucks. Go back to the Kelly green of the Randall Cunningham era.

29. Atlanta Falcons

The all-black uniform isn’t too bad. A red helmet would really make it pop though.

But the black top with white pants just sucks. And the “ATL” above the jersey number just looks lame.

28. Cincinnati Bengals

The uniform doesn’t look too bad in this picture. But it real time, it’s just underwhelming. Unfortunately this will be the Bengals for the next 40 years because Cincinnati has the cheapest and most unoriginal ownership in the league.

Too bad we can’t fire owners.

27. Arizona Cardinals

There’s nothing wrong with boring. Apparently, some Arizona fans have embraced this plain look. But if you’re gonna be boring, embrace it. Ditch any sort of subtle design and stripes and just use straight red jerseys, socks, and white pants.

26. New York Jets

This new design doesn’t upset me as it does others. The all-black alternates suck though. Again, it’s just underwhelming, much like the franchise as a whole.

25. Houston Texans

Houston quietly has one of the best logos in the league. But those blue jerseys are unoriginal. They should make the red alternates the full-time uniform.

24. Seattle Seahawks

Seattle has never had a good uniform. And I absolutely HATED this one when I first saw it. But then Russell Wilson happened and this is slowly becoming one of the classic uniforms in the league.

23. Chicago Bears

Eh. I don’t know. Truthfully I didn’t know where to place this one. There’s a lot of history to this uniform, so I’ll cut it some slack. But some of the alternates are preferable.

22. Miami Dolphins

Some love this color combo. I don’t. But I respect it. Just thinking about Dan Marino slinging it while wearing number 13 gives me the goosebumps. But that new logo is terrible.

21. Denver Broncos

I hate the old late-90s redesign that was used primarily before the Payton Manning era. Luckily they’ve moved away from that, and replaced it with the superior orange jerseys. Now they just need to replace that dumb Bronco logo for the old Denver ‘D’. That would look pretty dope on that helmet.

20. Baltimore Ravens

Sometimes this uniform looks cool, especially against AFC North teams and Washington. Sometimes it sucks. They should ditch the gold lining around the numbers and the all-black alternates. Otherwise, this is a pretty solid uniform.

magnum enforcer ii

“Tony! How’ve you been you useless sack of shit?”

“How’s it been hangin’ James?”

I hadn’t been to Tony’s on 4th in weeks. He brought me a Philly cheesesteak with extra grease. I told him it was my birthday and was ready for an early grave.

“Oh hell, James. It looks like the pawn shop next door is getting robbed. Should I call the police?”

I pulled out my 357.

“Don’t lift a finger you fat, stupid mother fucker. I’ll take care of it.”

I walked outside and the robbers were loading merchandise into the trunk of their Pontiac.

“Freeze assholes!”

They looked up and one of them fired off a 12 gauge. It grazed my right arm. Nevertheless, I managed to unleashed my 357, killing two of them.

The last one ran off. I fired off another round, blasting a hole in his leg. As he laid there bleeding out, I walked up to him and lifted my gun.

“Now I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “Did I fire 8 shots, or only 7?”

“You shot 3! Please don’t shoot me again!”

“Are you sure? Pretty sure I shot 7.”

“Please sir! Call an ambulance! I’m dying here!”

“Well I think today is your lucky day.” I cocked the 357 and a bullet fired out, splattering his brains all over the concrete.

“Holy shit, he was right. I did only fire 3.”

I was in the hospital all night while they sowed up my arm. I couldn’t sleep. LP nudged me the next morning at City Hall.

“Wake up,” he said. “The mayor’s speaking.”

I sat up in the seat and took my feet off the table. LP handed me a cup of coffee.

“Crime has gone up fivefold since I took office,” said Mayor Tortellini. “At this rate, I won’t get re-elected. This killer on the loose, what’s he called?”

“The Hillside Choker, sir,” the LA police chief responded.

“We must stop this killer, this coward, from choking again. He must be behind bars before election season next year.”

The mayor looked around the room. “Does anyone here have any pressing information regarding this case?”

LP stood up.

“I do sir. The rise in crime appears to be linked to the Hillside murders,” he said.

“Obviously, dipshit. Does anybody here have anything else,” the mayor replied.

I stood up.

“I think what LP means, Mr. Mayor, is that the Hillside Choker is motivated specifically by the rise in crime. All of his victims appear to be drug dealers, thieves, pimps, prostitutes, etc. The killer might think of himself as some sort of vigilante,” I said.

“And you are?”

“James, Mr. Mayor. Private Detective.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the mayor said. “Admiral Majors speaks very highly of you. He told me all about your escapades in Nicaragua.”

“Correction sir, it was Honduras. And with all due respect, Admiral Majors is the dumbest man I’ve ever met.”

“Nevertheless, I am deputizing you for the duration of this case. Welcome to the Los Angeles Police Department. Please don’t destroy this city like you did to Honduras.”

“Thank you sir.”

“This meeting is adjourned.”

LP got up and patted me on the back. “It looks like we’re partners now.” We shared a few laughs and I grabbed my coat.

As I was leaving, I caught a familiar stranger glancing at me. It was the same police officer from Malibu and San Luis Obispo stalking me. He scampered off into the bathroom.

I followed him in.

I kicked open the stall door and pulled out my 357.

“Caught ya asshole,” I said.

While sitting on the shitter, he raised his hands.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into James,” the man said.

I cocked the gun back. “Well you better tell me now or you’ve taken your last shit.”

“You can’t kill me here.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’ve been deputized. I can kill with impunity.”

At that moment, LP came in. “Drop it, James,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”

I lowered my gun. The mystery man got up, flushed the toilet, and washed his hands. “I’ll be seeing you around,” he said, and left the bathroom.

“Who is that guy, LP?”

“You’re in the LAPD now, James. There’s some questions you just don’t ask.”

magnum enforcer

“I got you something for your birthday,” Izzy said as she handed me an oak case.

“Oh Izzy, you shouldn’t have!”

I opened the case and inside was a Korth 357 Magnum.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“I’ve been reading your journals. As you know, I’ve been obsessed with you these last few weeks. Oh please James! Bend me over your desk and have your way with me! I’d do anything for you,” Izzy replied.

“You’re my secretary. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

Moments later, Sgt. LP Anderson of the LAPD came into the office. His tie was undone and holding a cup of coffee. He was absolutely chain smoking.

“You look like dog shit, LP,” I said.

“Can I have a moment alone with you, James?”

I asked Izzy to leave the office. After she shut the door, LP lit up another cigarette.

“The bodies of 20 dead prostitutes showed up in Griffith Park last week,” he said. “The streets are getting out of hand James.”

“I believe the correct term is ‘Ladies of the Night’, LP.”

“There’s a killer on the loose. He’s been toying with us. He left a note on one of the bodies.”

LP handed me the note and I read it over.

“This guy’s sick. And racist,” I said. “Have any of the bodies been Vietnamese?”

“That’s the thing, they’ve all been white women.”

“Damn”

I lit up a cigarette of my own and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Care for a shot,” I asked. “I stole it off Franco De Werner on my last case.”

“Please”

I poured some into his coffee cup.

“So what do you want me to do,” I asked.

“I’m asking you on behalf of the LAPD to assist with the investigation. Our detectives are overworked. We need a fresh set of eyes to look over the evidence. There’s something that we’re missing and you know these streets better than anyone.”

I poured the bourbon into my flask. “You can count on me, LP.”

“We have a meeting with the mayor tomorrow. He doesn’t want this information to leak out to the public. He’s also questioning our competence regarding this case. I want you to be there, to help out his mind at ease.”

“You got it.”

LP stood up. “And one other thing, we’re staging a stakeout in Culver City next week. We think we might have a lead. Bring all the protection you need. We might run into some trouble.”

I lifted up my brand new 357 magnum. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve been itching to try this thing out. Izzy got it for my birthday.”

“Happy 50th Birthday,” LP replied.

“50th? I’m 32.”