So why does theory matter? If it's so hard to pin point and there are so many conflicting views, then why bother? Well, in order to try and change crime, you need to know what causes it. For instance, let's say there is a burning building. You could just throw water on it and be done. But that might be a temporary fix; what caused the building to light on fire in the first place? What is the root cause? By identifying the cause of the fire, you know whether you have to shut of the gas lines, find an arsonist, or take that pack of matches from the toddler. You see? In order to fix a problem, you need to identify what's causing the problem. 
If you are looking for books on criminological theory, I have two to recommend. The first is Cullen and Agnew's Criminological Theory: past to present. Unlike other tests that just summaries theories, this work offers the original articles that have become landmarks in the study of criminology. There is also a very handy grid in the first few The second is my personal favorite, Lilly, Cullen and Ball's Criminological Theory: Context and Consequence. Again, unlike other textbooks this work offers not just the theories, but the social, economic, political and cultural climate and changes that prompted new theories to develop. There are also discussions on whether these theories worked, and the long lasting effects of programs implemented on these recommendations. I personally felt that the chronological structure of this book, complete with the historical subtexts, gave me a greater understanding of where the theories came from and what they were a reaction to.
I think It's about time I introduced you to Toad. Looking back at my first semester a grad student, I have to say that all of the students in the criminal justice department are really unpretentious and down to earth. Everyone seems ready to talk to you, offer bits of advice, give you encouragement and repeat the mantra I've come to internalize: "You'll worry and you'll work hard, but in the end it's really not that bad."
So if this is the kind of role model we are setting forth as appropriate for tweens, what messages are we sending? That it's ok for a 16 year-old to pole dance? Giving the finger is an ok way to express yourself? Taking topless photos and lying seductively across your dad is normative behavior? Gender stereotypes abound! We are teaching young girls at a formative point in their lives that the media is a reliable and appropriate place to get their system of morals, ethics and beliefs. The media has been linked to many different issues facing young girls and women ranging from anorexia and to poor self-esteem and body image. And Miley Cyrus is the role model we are shoving down their throats. Is it any wonder that what is considered "normative" is actually so harmful? 
So here is a hot topic in New Jersey's law enforcement community. Atlantic City, the (in)famous tourist destination, is known as much for its casinos and boardwalks as its reputation for drugs, prostitutes and murder. While great strides have been taken in the past decade (you don't find nearly as many used needles in the streets as you used to), it is still a city with a crime problem. Now, this is not to say that everyone who lives there is a criminal; far from it, in fact. And it is just as unfair to say that crime runs rampant and unchecked; the police force is efficient and organized, and the State Police even have special interests in the area adding further protection.
Researchers have any number of different criminological theories discussing what creates crime and criminals, and Atlantic City is as good a place as any to see them in action. The constant fluctuation of the population creates tension and unrest. Think of the double-decker trains now running from New York City to the casinos. An entirely new (and perhaps even unsavory) group of people are now being introduced to the area on a temporary basis. When a community is constantly changing and the inhabitants are temporary there is a risk of decreasing attachment to the neighborhood and social morals failing.
Now the police's ability to fight crime and keep the community safe has been limited to an even greater extent as the result of a political power trip. In summary: man breaks law, police tell man to surrender, man refuses. Police K-9 apprehends man, so, of course, man sues. They mayor says he's imposing the ban on behalf of the citizens who complained, but the police aren't buying it. They are calling it a purely political move, and they are worried, and rightfully so, that their ability to protect the public will be compromised.
This is a classic example of criminal justice policy not reflecting criminal justice realities. It's all well and good to impose statutes and write code, but if it doesn't work on the street it's useless at best and harmful at worst.
Moral of the story? Pick different vacation spot on the Jersey Shore.
For more on this story, follow the link below to the AP article.
http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2009/08/atlantic_city_indefinitely_sus.html
family, acted with more maturity and grace. If this is how my family acts at the happiest of occasions, it makes you wonder what the bad times look like. 
When you are living in a city that is rabid about its sports teams, you tend to hear all the gossip almost as soon as it happens. Michael Vick signing with the Philadelphia Eagles is no different. I am not an Eagles fan (in fact, I loathe them, but that's another story), but even if I were I'd have to seriously reconsider my loyalties. After the dog fighting scandal and the overwhelming disgust shown by the American people as a result, you'd think he'd be a pariah in our society, and certainly not a hot pick for a football team. Apparently, I stand corrected.Now there is justice, and then there is fairness. According to the courts system, "justice" has been served for Michael Vick. He was sentenced to prison, served his time and is now released back into society to become a productive citizen once more. Considering criminal justice and criminology are my fields of study, I would usually be one of the first people to recognize the logic of this system. But I don't feel like Vick's punishment even remotely reflects the crime. The animals on his Bad Newz Kennels were tortured. Many died, and others were so physically and psychologically traumatized they needed to be humanely put down. These dogs didn't get to spend their time being the big man on campus at some federal prison where he was most definitely deferred to as the local celebrity. I don't think Michael Vick ever had to worry about dropping the soap or getting shanked in the chow line. Let's face it: the bastard got off easy. But the courts think he's paid his debt to society and should be a free man once more. That is their interpretation of justice.
Now what would be fair? Well, these dogs didn't get preferential treatment when Vick was hanging the weakest of them for losing matches, or starving them to make them vicious fighters. Vick is out of prison, true. But she should never get to go back to his old life. The damage to these animals cannot be undone, and he should not be allowed to wipe his slate clean and pretend nothing ever happened. That is a mockery of what is right. It's just not fair. Does he deserve to make a living? Of course he does. The stigma of a conviction should not be an insurmountable barrier for anyone. But should he get to play professional football, certainly not a right but a rare privilege, and make millions? Absolutely not. He should certainly get a job. Maybe he can flip burgers, stock shelves or clean up dog parks.
So who wins in the end? Surprisingly, it's the dogs. Through incredible amounts of patience, handwork and unwavering love, many of these dogs have found families and loving homes. In
fact, some have become ambassadors for the pit bull breed, disproving the myth that they are natural born killers. If they are naturally born to do anything, it's probably snuggling. Look at Leo. This handsome guy with his colorful clown collar is covered in scars from his fighting days. But his new career? He's now a service dog, keeping chemo patients company during their treatments and showing them that anything is possible, no matter how bleak things may look. He is proof that in spite of cruelty, and in spite of Michael Vick, there is always a chance for another start. Now that is a good dog.
So to all the Eagles fans out there, keep on loving your team if you must, but if you love animals and human decency too, then maybe you should rethink your alliances.
So I am driving with my mom to the mall making small talk when suddenly the radio announcer says that Michael Jackson is dead. Farah Fawcett, too. Our jaws hit the dashboard. I for one am very sad to hear of Farah's passing. The woman battled her cancer with bravery and grace and I sincerely hope she is at peace. It is a very sad end to a very nice lady.
As for Whacko Jacko…
Well, I'm not heartless to say I'm glad he's dead, but really, this was only a matter of time. Living life constantly stoned and drunk? His strange fascination with small children (and it's sick and sexual, I still have no idea how he got off at that trial)? They say that he was discovered by his family this morning, his father attempted to resuscitate him and then they called for EMS. But here's the thing… when the EMTs and paramedics got there, he was cold. Contrary to popular belief, it takes a while for a body to get cold to the touch. The hospital is saying cardiac arrest. My person opinion? Cardiac arrest for certain, but almost certainly during the night from drugs. Your heart can only take so much abuse, after all.
Is there a silver lining to all his death?
Well, maybe some little children won't be molested.
Can you guess I was never a big fan?
Super Boy and my mom, each on their own and without discussion between them, both commented on my "love your neighbor" post in their own ways. In the case of Super Boy, I offhandedly joked that the entire ordeal with Bam Bam and Sally the Slut, combined with the grad school saga, was making me depressed and old before my time.
And he agreed.
Super Boy agreed that I was depressed. And not just depressed, but entirely self loathing. How's that for brutally honest? He said that over the past month I have sunk into a funk; the more good news I get from schools (and the more options I suddenly have), the worse I feel. And no, the repetitive thumping doesn't help, either. But he does have a point. So did my mom. I mentioned my struggle with loving my current neighbor and she cut me off. She said to forget about the neighbors; I ought to spend more time trying to love myself.
Her exact words? "You have the self-esteem of a fruit fly."
Wow. Thanks, mom.
I know I'm a bit hard on myself. But I never thought about the second part of "love your neighbor as you love yourself" as all that important. I really think I have tunnel vision here. I can beat myself up all day when I say really unkind things about other people. And I feel like a really lousy person when I do, even if they bring it on themselves. But when I treat myself like crap? It's just another day in my world. And that isn't fair. If I should be nice to the people around me, I damn well better be nice to myself. And I am really going to try.
As for the "love your neighbor" bit? I wish I could say that progress has been made but… they got loud. Again. I got pissed. Again. Then the society of angry neighbors got pissed. And then the cops were called.
So, yeah. It could be going better. I guess Jesus will just have to give me a mulligan on this one.
I rarely talk about religion, and with good reason. My mother always told me there are three things you never talk about in public: money, politics and religion. It's not a matter of having no opinion on the subject, or being ashamed of what you believe; my silence is a matter of self preservation. And, in a way, it makes me stronger and maybe even a little better as a person. Rather than spend time arguing with others and trying to make them see my side of things, I try listen to what others have to say regardless of whether or not I agree. Most of the time I nod and smile and move on. Sometimes I learn something. Regardless, I don't feel the need to push what I think is right onto others.
But the Lenten season has just started, and as a practicing Catholic (at least in theory) I am taking the time to reexamine my life and the way I live. So talking a little about religion is kind of required. There are a lot of aspects of religion I question, or just outright disagree with. I think that while God is infallible and always has a plan in mind, people definitely make mistakes. So while I have faith and believe in many things, I don't accept outright some of the Church's more modern teachings. I believe that Jesus had the right idea. God loves everyone, period. We are all made equal in His eyes. He is forgiving and never gives up on people. All in all, He's a pretty cool guy.
Anyway… I digress. Recently I have been considering one of the cornerstone tenants of the New Testament: "Love your neighbor as you love yourself." Simply speaking, treat those around you the way you want to be treated. I'm pretty sure I've been hearing that since Pre-K. But I will be the first to admit that I don't always follow it that closely. I have a short fuse and less-than-perfect people skills. I am not a big fan of humanity as a whole. People in large crowds can be incredibly stupid. One on one they can be just as bad. I have a low tolerance for idiocy.
My most recent and aggravating example of this is my interaction with Sally the Slut and my neighbor Bam Bam. Easy to love they are not. A few nights ago they woke me up not with sex but with conversation. A loud one. At 2 in the morning. I suppose I should be thankful considering their normal pursuits, but I had to be at my internship early the next morning and my nerves were worn thin to begin with. This was the last thing I needed. By 4 a.m. I hit my limit; I stomped down the stairs and knocked on Bam Bam's door. When he answered (in a revolting state of undress that is just too traumatizing to record here) he seemed angry at me, as if I were disturbing him rather than the other way around. After a short and sharp conversation I went back to bed. But it bothered me. True, they were in the wrong to act so selfishly at the expense of everyone else in the house, but did I do the right thing? Yes, it fixed the problem. But I think Jesus would have taken this in stride, maybe used a parable to get his point across rather than a scowl and sarcasm. So maybe I should try to be a bit more patient and a little more understanding of the people around me. And maybe I should forgive people, no matter how inconsiderate they are.
Then again, Jesus never had to live in a college dorm. Maybe if he did "love your neighbor" would have a few exceptions to the rule…
Warning! This post is rated PG-13 for brutal honesty and loud moaning!
So I haven't mentioned Sally the Slut yet. And I should, considering the important role she plays in my life. Sally the Slut is the girl a neighbor of mine, the aforementioned Bam Bam, has recently begun having obnoxiously loud sex with. I could be nice and say that they are in a committed relationship, but we are talking about Sally the Slut. All they do is have sex. And I have my doubts that he is the only one she is currently boinking.
So I was not the first to christen Sally with her moniker. Apparently she was picked out and marked for what she was within the first days of her being on campus. Not only has she been around the block a few times, she has apparently become known far and wide as the campus bicycle; everyone has had a ride, and now it's Bam Bam's turn.
Oh, by the way. She's a freshman. He is a senior. Which makes all of this that much more unpalatable.
Now I have the unfortunate luck to live in the general vicinity of these two. She has, much to the resentment of everyone who lives in this house, practically moved in. No one likes her. Especially the ones who have to hear the two of them go at it. The first time she spent the night I was woken out of a dead sleep convinced that there was an earthquake. But then I heard the moaning. Screaming, actually. And she's… a talker. She says… things… and at that volume you can't help but listen.
And then there is Bam Bam, who, of course, lives up to his name. I am lulled to sleep by very rhythmic, earnest thumping on a nearly nightly basis. He's very focused. So focused, in fact, that he doesn't seem to realize that he's beginning to rival Sally the Slut with the screaming. So I like to mess with him. Just when he gets into a rhythm I jump on my bed sporadically to throw him off beat. It works.
And things get worse. Somewhere along the line, Sally the Slut picked up at least a few unsavory diseases. So when Bam Bam suddenly came down with mono, everyone looked to her. And guess what? She had it too. So much for monogamy. Share and share alike, I guess. Spread the love. And now I have to listen to them have sex and take breaks to hack up a lung. Lovely.
Don't get me wrong. I don't look in people's bedroom windows, and I don't want people looking into mine. But when you are that… exuberant… what do you expect?
So after an impromptu meeting of the "Shut up Sally the Slut, and move your bed off the wall Bam Bam" society, several neighbors and concerned citizens have offered the following solutions to our little problem:
I welcome any suggestions you may have. Feel free to add your own solutions, the wilder the better.
At this point, all bets are off.
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