If you have saints make appearances in your dream, isn't that supposed to mean you're like blessed or something? What does the Terminator mean?

Last night I dreamed that I was working at a store or a gas station or something, and three guys came in-- two short guys and a really tall one-- that I recognized from the news as being wanted for some crime. So I had my co-worker stall them and I went to the back room, got some stuff for makeshift handcuffs (fuzzy handcuffs, wire, and a flower press- don't ask me why a gas station had fuzzy handcuffs, or a flower press) and we managed to get them restrained until the cops showed up. However, as soon as the door opened for a customer, they made a break for it, and the cops didn't wind up catching them.

They headed to the five-lane main drag through the town and I followed them at a safe distance. All of a sudden the tall one stumbled out onto the street, right in the path of a Greyhound Bus, and one of his friends cried out "Oh shit!" and lunged at him, trying to push him out of the way. End result, they were both hit, as the bus swerved and sideswiped them. The other guy ran off, and the short guy, who seemed to only have a few bruises and scrapes, attempted to move the taller one, who had a very broken leg (it was twisted all weird) and was slouched forward and bleeding everywhere. He was also unconscious. Concerned, I ran pout into the street, narrowly missing a truck myself, and cried "Wait, don't move him!"

"You!" the short guy cried.

"We have to call an ambulance, his spine might be injured. Anyone have a phone?" I looked around at the few people, like the bus driver, who had gathered. They dug in their pockets. Suddenly remembering, I pulled out my own phone.

"No, wait! They'll come to arrest us!"

"I promise I won't mention who you are. He needs an ambulance. I don't care about the police right now."

"Okay..."

I called 911 and said to the person in a shaky voice, "Hi, I'm at the corner of..." I looked at the nearest sign "18Q street and 102, a guy just got hit by a bus, he's bleeding and his leg is broken."

"Okay, we'll send someone."

I looked up from the call to see the injured guy raise his head groggily. "What happened?" he asked. His friend explained it to him.

"We have to get out of the street," the injured guy said, pushing himself along to drag his leg. His friend grabbed him as well and before I could stop them, they were on the far curb. I followed them, and we waited for the ambulance.

All of a sudden this giant Megatron-like robot came down the street, zapping things with it's arm laser. "We have to move!" the tall guy said.

"You can't walk!" I cried. "Your leg's broken!"

"How bad is it?" He looked down at it and winced. "Oh. Hang on." He grabbed it and twisted it back into position, and it made several cracking noises. The other guy and I kind of stared. He cracked his neck, and his right eyeball withdrew into his head, and in it's place out came a Terminator style red eye. I realized that where the red "blood" had cleared in his wounds, underneath there were glints of metal.

"What ARE you?" I cried, not realizing the Megatron bot was getting closer.

"Go, hide," he ordered me, standing on his now-stable legs. "She doesn't want us."

"Not even me?" the short guy asked, as I ran off, headed for the nearest building. A giant metal hand swiped at my head before I ducked into a storm drain and was able to sneak over to a building. Outside that building was Mother Teresa (don't even ask) and as I ducked in, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. We headed for the basement, which was semi-developed and had workman's tables, which we hid inside. I heard the giant robot outside, and was absolutely silent and unmoving. Soon she passed, and I came out from under the table, cautioning Mother Teresa that she might want to stay there for a bit longer.

Suddenly Terminator-guy came down the stairs (he appeared to have found himself some machine guns), saying, "Disguise yourself or something." I grabbed the conveniently-located makeup kit and some spare clothes and dressed in a sort of disguise, even changing the way I walked. The two of us then returned to the surface and I cautiously went over to the Megatron-style robot, who didn't seem to recognize me. She continued to search for me, though, yet I was able to actually go with her, and she didn't realize who I was.

I wish I could remember how it had ended... I think there was a firefight.

This is what you get for lettin' us womenfolk think

There was an article on the death penalty that I was reading today, and I felt the need to put my 2 cents in on the subject.

I believe in the death penalty.

That said-- Texas is bonkers in how much they use it. Like the guy mentioned in this article, who raped and murdered a woman. One woman, however cruelly and violently. Should he be locked up for life? Yes. I also believe that violent rapists for whom there is DNA evidence proving the rape should be surgically castrated. Not chemically, as you stop taking the pills and the desire comes back-- if someone violently rapes a person and there is definite evidence both that he was the rapist and that the crime was violent in nature, they should have their testicles removed and replaced with prosthetics. Cruel and unusual? If a person kills someone with a car, they lose their license. If they shoot at someone with a gun, they are denied the ability to ever own one again. It's just removing a weapon.

And yet, as for the death penalty-- I am of the mind that the death penalty should only be used for repeat offenders. Serial killers and gang members and the like. No crimes of passion, no single-murders, just people who plotted and acted on their plans to murder a stranger, a passing acquaintance, or a rival.

Also, the insanity defense is way overused-- the only way you should be able to plead not guilty by reason of insanity is if a) you actually have a real mental illness, and one severe enough that your crime is plausible-- situational depression doesn't count; b) you were not undergoing treatment (because you were undiagnosed or were not enough in your right mind to chose to) at the time of the crime (or a proper course of treatment was not found); c) you agree to undergo treatment and NOT STOP for your ENTIRE life; and d) you are expected to be a functioning member of society if treated.

So if a person kills someone and blames it on postpartum depression, they should get the same treatment as a healthy person. If they are an undiagnosed schizophrenic and willing to undergo treatment, they can get off. See where I'm going with this? My point is that if you have another Ed Gein, who was determined not guilty by reason of insanity and sent to a mental hospital for his whole life-- well, honestly. He wasn't going to get better. And if he had been sane he probably would have been put to death. So if you've got someone like that, just put them to death.

But not the electric chair or anything. Nitrogen narcosis-- unconsciousness and painless suffocation, with mild euphoria beforehand. Plus it leaves the body undamaged so the family can chose to donate the organs or the whole body to science, if they so wish, or inter it intact, if their religion requests it.

And as for the people who claim the jails are too crowded from all the people who deserve to die already-- if we legalized and then regulated (most) drugs and saved jail for people who are a threat to others or who genuinely need rehabilitation.

Also, anyone in jail for life should have the option of painless elective suicide whenever they wish. I think it's only fair, honestly.

I wish I was able to do an overhaul on a prison and test some of my theories about rehabilitation, though. Even if I didn't get to set sentences or allow suicide. Things like work detail, trade education, and not allowing people convicted for certain crimes (pedophilia and gang crimes spring to mind) interact with each other (because that's how they learn techniques). That way I would see firsthand if it failed and accept the system we have now.