–adjective
| 1. | characterized by verbosity or unnecessary repetition in expressing ideas; prolix: a redundant style. |
| 2. | being in excess; exceeding what is usual or natural: a redundant part. |
| 3. | having some unusual or extra part or feature. |
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Word of the Day...
Redundant
–adjective
–adjective
Friday, February 29, 2008
The Sound of Music...
I have my MP3 player set to play all of the songs in alphabetical order by title. This leads to some rather interesting combinations of songs.
Cowboys From Hell - Pantera
followed by
Cowboys Like Us - George Strait
Ride - Sons of the Desert
followed by
Ride of the Valkyries - Wagner
followed by
Ride the Lightning - Metallica
Angel - Aerosmith
followed by
Angel of Death - Slayer
Rain - The Cult
followed by
Raining Blood - Slayer
Marianne - Sisters of Mercy
followed by
Mary Ann - Lonesome River Band
Sometimes it's kind of a shock to the system to go from classical to speed metal, or vice-versa, but it suits me fine.
Cowboys From Hell - Pantera
followed by
Cowboys Like Us - George Strait
Ride - Sons of the Desert
followed by
Ride of the Valkyries - Wagner
followed by
Ride the Lightning - Metallica
Angel - Aerosmith
followed by
Angel of Death - Slayer
Rain - The Cult
followed by
Raining Blood - Slayer
Marianne - Sisters of Mercy
followed by
Mary Ann - Lonesome River Band
Sometimes it's kind of a shock to the system to go from classical to speed metal, or vice-versa, but it suits me fine.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
WTF, over?
I was in the Safeway awhile back, on duty and in uniform. I was getting a sandwich when I noticed a kid making quite a bit of noise. He might have been four or five years old. This kid was having a fit for some reason and mom could not get him to chill out. What mom said next really torqued me off.
"You better stop or I'll have the policeman arrest you."
I mean, really! WTF mom? Do you really think it's appropriate to tell your child I'm going to arrest him for crying? What is this poor kid to think? He looked at me like I had six heads and I was about to eat him. He stopped crying, but only because he was clutching mom's leg and staring at me in horror.
I really hate it when people do that. These are going to be the kids who don't call the police when someone takes their bike. They will think I'm going to come and arrest them for getting their bicycle stolen.
My kids know that if they are EVER in trouble, they can ALWAYS talk to a police officer. Even if it's not me. A police officer is supposed to be a safe place, right? Not a monster to threaten your kids with.
It is not often I feel the need to lose my place in the lunch line, but this was one such occasion. I took a badge sticker out of my shirt pocket and walked over to them. I took a knee and handed the badge to the kid. I told him I was deputizing him, and that meant he had to be good and listen to mom. Ya' know what? He grinned at me and didn't cry anymore.
If looks could kill, that mom would be cold and stiff from the glare I gave her before I turned and walked away.
Thanks a whole freakin' lot mom.
"You better stop or I'll have the policeman arrest you."
I mean, really! WTF mom? Do you really think it's appropriate to tell your child I'm going to arrest him for crying? What is this poor kid to think? He looked at me like I had six heads and I was about to eat him. He stopped crying, but only because he was clutching mom's leg and staring at me in horror.
I really hate it when people do that. These are going to be the kids who don't call the police when someone takes their bike. They will think I'm going to come and arrest them for getting their bicycle stolen.
My kids know that if they are EVER in trouble, they can ALWAYS talk to a police officer. Even if it's not me. A police officer is supposed to be a safe place, right? Not a monster to threaten your kids with.
It is not often I feel the need to lose my place in the lunch line, but this was one such occasion. I took a badge sticker out of my shirt pocket and walked over to them. I took a knee and handed the badge to the kid. I told him I was deputizing him, and that meant he had to be good and listen to mom. Ya' know what? He grinned at me and didn't cry anymore.
If looks could kill, that mom would be cold and stiff from the glare I gave her before I turned and walked away.
Thanks a whole freakin' lot mom.
Word of the Day...
Pretentious
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | full of pretense or pretension. |
| 2. | characterized by assumption of dignity or importance. |
| 3. | making an exaggerated outward show; ostentatious. |
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Some Strange Picture Thing...
Taking a little break from "A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words" today to do something a little different. I got this idea from Liz, and figured I'd give it a try... So here goes.
Answer the questions below.
Type each answer into photobucket.
Take any picture from the first page of results and post (click on the picture and copy the HTML code).
You can't copy the person's answers who posted this before you!
Add your own question at the end.
1. What age will you be at your next birthday?
2. A place you'd like to travel?
3. Your favorite place?
4. Your favorite object?
5. Your favorite food?
6. Your favorite animal?
7. Your favorite color?
8. The town in which you were born?
9. The name of a past pet?
10. A bad habit of yours?
11. Your first job?
12. Favorite song?
13. Favorite holiday?
14. Favorite sport to watch?
15. Favorite thing to do?
16. Nickname?
17. Favorite hobby?
So there... NEXT!
Answer the questions below.
Type each answer into photobucket.
Take any picture from the first page of results and post (click on the picture and copy the HTML code).
You can't copy the person's answers who posted this before you!
Add your own question at the end.
1. What age will you be at your next birthday?
2. A place you'd like to travel?
3. Your favorite place?
4. Your favorite object?
5. Your favorite food?
6. Your favorite animal?
7. Your favorite color?
8. The town in which you were born?
9. The name of a past pet?
10. A bad habit of yours?
11. Your first job?
12. Favorite song?
13. Favorite holiday?
14. Favorite sport to watch?
15. Favorite thing to do?
16. Nickname?
17. Favorite hobby?
So there... NEXT!
Monday, February 25, 2008
Academy Life...
I was talking with my co-workers the other day about our academy experiences, and it got me to remembering.
If I had to give one piece of advice to any person about to attend a police academy, it would be this. Stick with it and never give up. The RTO's will try to make you quit. You will want to quit. But don't quit.
38 people, from completely different lives, came into the recruit classroom on the first day of our academy. Nobody talked, because nobody really knew what to say yet.
When we started out, the Recruit Training Officers (RTO's) were total hard-asses. You could tell their sole purpose in life, at the time, was to get the weak ones to quit. Our first day, we spent 5 hours in the classroom meeting the Sheriff, the command staff, and the RTO's. The RTO's came in wearing their pressed and creased uniforms, shoes mirror shined, and smoky bear hats PERFECTLY level. Intimidating.
After the niceties were over, we were told we had ten minutes to get into our physical training (PT) gear and get out onto the track. It took us twelve minutes. We spent the next two and a half hours doing push-ups, sit-ups, and side straddle hops, running, doing more push-ups, more running, more push-ups, more running... you get the idea. We got smoked.
The second day wasn't much better. We worked on our first learning domains (LD's) for the first 6 or so hours, then another two hour PT session. After a week of this, we still had our entire class. We were told we were the first class in many years not to have a recruit quit based on the first week. Oh, and we finally started talking to each other.
The second week was still stressful, but since everyone realized it wasn't going to get any easier, we all just bucked up and rolled with it. We had people dropping out of the runs, people who couldn't do ten push-ups, people who couldn't do ONE sit-up... we were a mess, but we stuck with it.
It was the third week before we lost a recruit, and the sixth week before we lost a recruit who was really a loss to the class. It was tough watching the RTO's come into the classroom with their smoky hats on, walk up to the recruit and tell him to get his stuff. One RTO took the recruit's name tag off his desk and ripped it in half as they walked the recruit out.
Nobody really knew what happened to recruits who were walked out. We just knew we never saw them again. It's kinda' like the RTO from the Black Lagoon. Did they throw the poor recruit into the furnace? Did he get ground up and become our lunch? Surely it was something more benign, like they walked him out to his car and watched him leave, but that just sounds so.... undramatic.... anti-climactic even.
It wasn't until about the fourth or fifth week that our recruit leaders really started to show themselves. That was about the time we had all developed our own opinions of our fellow recruits. We knew who we liked, and who we couldn't stand. We figured out who could lead, and who just talked about leading. We also figured out the recruits who wanted to run the show but didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground.
As time went on, our RTO's became less and less hard-assed. They began talking to us instead of yelling at us. At the end of the day on Fridays, the RTO's came into the classroom and told us what was expected of us on Monday, then they just talked with us. They answered questions, told stories, and just generally conversed with us. It was kinda cool, because we felt like we had gone from useless sacks of shit, to potential police officers.
Each time we lost a recruit, it became more difficult. We had actually had time to get to know these people. These were our friends they were taking away and doing God knows what with. By the 24th week, when we lost the last person we were going to lose, we were losing a brother. That didn't get any easier.
By the final weeks, the RTO's actually treated us as almost police officers. We were shown respect as long as we still showed respect. As a class, we really had our shit together. We had finally gone from a group of individuals, to a team... a family. We were one. We knew we would have the backs of everyone in the classroom, and they would have ours. Even the recruits we didn't particularly care for at the beginning were tolerated now. We might not have been best buds, but dammit, we were gonna be cops, and we knew we couldn't let our petty differences get between us.
We still had our squabbles, like any family will. We still had some recruits who were liked or disliked more than others, but it just mattered less.
On our graduation day it was summed up for me just what we had gone through. After the graduation ceremony, 23 peace officers were walking around in our Class A uniforms when I noticed the new class.
We had just graduated, and the new class was in their first day. I looked out over the track, and saw the new guys getting smoked on the hill. They looked like a big bag of shit. Their uniforms were all ratty and half tucked. Half of them couldn't keep up with the run. There was something eerily familiar about it.
I realized I was looking back at my own first day in the academy.
----------------------------------------------------------
I don't know if any of my academy mates read this. If they do, they may or may not know who I am, but they might have a clue. 131, you know who you are.
If I had to give one piece of advice to any person about to attend a police academy, it would be this. Stick with it and never give up. The RTO's will try to make you quit. You will want to quit. But don't quit.
38 people, from completely different lives, came into the recruit classroom on the first day of our academy. Nobody talked, because nobody really knew what to say yet.
When we started out, the Recruit Training Officers (RTO's) were total hard-asses. You could tell their sole purpose in life, at the time, was to get the weak ones to quit. Our first day, we spent 5 hours in the classroom meeting the Sheriff, the command staff, and the RTO's. The RTO's came in wearing their pressed and creased uniforms, shoes mirror shined, and smoky bear hats PERFECTLY level. Intimidating.
After the niceties were over, we were told we had ten minutes to get into our physical training (PT) gear and get out onto the track. It took us twelve minutes. We spent the next two and a half hours doing push-ups, sit-ups, and side straddle hops, running, doing more push-ups, more running, more push-ups, more running... you get the idea. We got smoked.
The second day wasn't much better. We worked on our first learning domains (LD's) for the first 6 or so hours, then another two hour PT session. After a week of this, we still had our entire class. We were told we were the first class in many years not to have a recruit quit based on the first week. Oh, and we finally started talking to each other.
The second week was still stressful, but since everyone realized it wasn't going to get any easier, we all just bucked up and rolled with it. We had people dropping out of the runs, people who couldn't do ten push-ups, people who couldn't do ONE sit-up... we were a mess, but we stuck with it.
It was the third week before we lost a recruit, and the sixth week before we lost a recruit who was really a loss to the class. It was tough watching the RTO's come into the classroom with their smoky hats on, walk up to the recruit and tell him to get his stuff. One RTO took the recruit's name tag off his desk and ripped it in half as they walked the recruit out.
Nobody really knew what happened to recruits who were walked out. We just knew we never saw them again. It's kinda' like the RTO from the Black Lagoon. Did they throw the poor recruit into the furnace? Did he get ground up and become our lunch? Surely it was something more benign, like they walked him out to his car and watched him leave, but that just sounds so.... undramatic.... anti-climactic even.
It wasn't until about the fourth or fifth week that our recruit leaders really started to show themselves. That was about the time we had all developed our own opinions of our fellow recruits. We knew who we liked, and who we couldn't stand. We figured out who could lead, and who just talked about leading. We also figured out the recruits who wanted to run the show but didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground.
As time went on, our RTO's became less and less hard-assed. They began talking to us instead of yelling at us. At the end of the day on Fridays, the RTO's came into the classroom and told us what was expected of us on Monday, then they just talked with us. They answered questions, told stories, and just generally conversed with us. It was kinda cool, because we felt like we had gone from useless sacks of shit, to potential police officers.
Each time we lost a recruit, it became more difficult. We had actually had time to get to know these people. These were our friends they were taking away and doing God knows what with. By the 24th week, when we lost the last person we were going to lose, we were losing a brother. That didn't get any easier.
By the final weeks, the RTO's actually treated us as almost police officers. We were shown respect as long as we still showed respect. As a class, we really had our shit together. We had finally gone from a group of individuals, to a team... a family. We were one. We knew we would have the backs of everyone in the classroom, and they would have ours. Even the recruits we didn't particularly care for at the beginning were tolerated now. We might not have been best buds, but dammit, we were gonna be cops, and we knew we couldn't let our petty differences get between us.
We still had our squabbles, like any family will. We still had some recruits who were liked or disliked more than others, but it just mattered less.
On our graduation day it was summed up for me just what we had gone through. After the graduation ceremony, 23 peace officers were walking around in our Class A uniforms when I noticed the new class.
We had just graduated, and the new class was in their first day. I looked out over the track, and saw the new guys getting smoked on the hill. They looked like a big bag of shit. Their uniforms were all ratty and half tucked. Half of them couldn't keep up with the run. There was something eerily familiar about it.
I realized I was looking back at my own first day in the academy.
----------------------------------------------------------
I don't know if any of my academy mates read this. If they do, they may or may not know who I am, but they might have a clue. 131, you know who you are.
Word of the Day...
Obstinate
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | firmly or stubbornly adhering to one's purpose, opinion, etc.; not yielding to argument, persuasion, or entreaty. |
| 2. | characterized by inflexible persistence or an unyielding attitude; inflexibly persisted in or carried out: obstinate advocacy of high tariffs. |
| 3. | not easily controlled or overcome: the obstinate growth of weeds. |
| 4. | not yielding readily to treatment, as a disease. |
Friday, February 22, 2008
Turkeys Aren't the Only Things That Get Stuffing...
The most people I've seen stuffed into a five seat Toyota Camry:
12
And there were two in the trunk!
12
And there were two in the trunk!
Word of the Day...
Preposterous
–adjective
completely contrary to nature, reason, or common sense; absurd; senseless; utterly foolish: a preposterous tale.
Carrying 12 people in a Toyota Camry is preposterous!
–adjective
completely contrary to nature, reason, or common sense; absurd; senseless; utterly foolish: a preposterous tale.
Carrying 12 people in a Toyota Camry is preposterous!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
What if I Refuse to Sign the Citation?
Out of 19 car stops, I had three people today who refused to sign their respective citations. All three eventually saw the light,when informed they would likely spend the weekend in jail, and decided to sign the cites.
Usually I get one of these every month or two. I've never had three in one day.
Quite the trying day.
Usually I get one of these every month or two. I've never had three in one day.
Quite the trying day.
Word of the Day...
Peruse
–verb (used with object), -rused, -rus·ing.
I do so enjoy perusing others' blogs...
–verb (used with object), -rused, -rus·ing.
| 1. | to read through with thoroughness or care: to peruse a report. |
| 2. | to read. |
| 3. | to survey or examine in detail. |
I do so enjoy perusing others' blogs...
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Well, That's a Stupid Question...
I stopped a gal today, and she asked me this.
"Is there a reason you stopped me?"
What I wanted to say:
No. No reason at all. None whatsoever. I just run around with my lights on for the hell of it. Is there a reason you stopped? Of COURSE there's a reason I stopped you. Perhaps you might like to know what it is.
What I said:
Yep. I'll explain it as soon as I get your license.
I also stopped the Town Crier III today. I felt kinda bad about his one though because I don't think it was just a plea for sympathy like the others. This lady just started crying, and seemed rather embarrassed by it.
And I stubbed more jaywalkers.... So there.
"Is there a reason you stopped me?"
What I wanted to say:
No. No reason at all. None whatsoever. I just run around with my lights on for the hell of it. Is there a reason you stopped? Of COURSE there's a reason I stopped you. Perhaps you might like to know what it is.
What I said:
Yep. I'll explain it as soon as I get your license.
I also stopped the Town Crier III today. I felt kinda bad about his one though because I don't think it was just a plea for sympathy like the others. This lady just started crying, and seemed rather embarrassed by it.
And I stubbed more jaywalkers.... So there.
Word of the Day...
Incomprehensible
| adjective | |
| 1. | incapable of being explained or accounted for; "inexplicable errors"; "left the house at three in the morning for inexplicable reasons" [syn: inexplicable] [ant: explicable] |
| 2. | difficult to understand; "the most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible"- A. Einstein [ant: comprehendible] |
Monday, February 18, 2008
Excuse Me While I Whip This Out...
Okay now... I'm starting to get a little pissed off here. As I said before, feel free to comment on my posts, but be ready for me to return fire.
No offense intended to justusforall, but am I really wrong to write people tickets for jaywalking? I get shit from just about everyone I rag for it, but does that mean I should stop writing them altogether? Justusforall, are you a cop? I'd bet the answer is no, or else you're very new at it.
Let me put it to you this way.... Have you ever taken an auto vs. ped collision? Have you ever rolled up to find a man lying on his face in the street struggling for breath because the car that just hit him squashed his guts into places they were never intended to go? Have you ever SEEN a shattered pelvis? Have you ever had to explain to the person this guy had been walking with that it really didn't look good for his friend? Have you ever had to deal with an emotional witness who just watched this guy get plowed by a vehicle traveling at 35 miles per hour? Have you ever heard an Intensive Care nurse say words like cerebral hemorrhage, detached retina or abdominal trauma when describing your pedestrian's injuries?
Have you ever determined an area of impact based upon the location of property that flew out of a guy's pockets when the car hit him? Have you ever actually seen someone come out of their shoes? Have you seen the damage a human body does to the front of a motor vehicle, let alone the emotional damage it does to the driver of that motor vehicle? Have you ever had to convince the driver of the vehicle that there was truly NOTHING he could have done to avoid that collision because the guy literally stepped right out in front of his vehicle, in the middle of the block? Have you ever had to take that guy's vehicle as evidence anyway, even though you knew the collision wasn't his fault?
If you had to do these things, then you would know why I write jaywalking tickets. If you haven't, then don't give me shit for stubbing people for jaywalking. When you pull a 12 year old kid out from under the wheels of an SUV whose driver was HUA (that would be Head Up Ass), then come see me and we'll talk.
I don't write jaywalking tickets because it's fun. I write them because those things I mentioned are most certainly NOT fun, and if I can avoid doing them by writing a few more tickets, I'll take the writer's cramp any day, thank you very goddamned much. I get paid the same whether I write the tickets or the crash.
Again, no offense to justusforall, but make sure you cross in the crosswalk or I'll write you one too...
No offense intended to justusforall, but am I really wrong to write people tickets for jaywalking? I get shit from just about everyone I rag for it, but does that mean I should stop writing them altogether? Justusforall, are you a cop? I'd bet the answer is no, or else you're very new at it.
Let me put it to you this way.... Have you ever taken an auto vs. ped collision? Have you ever rolled up to find a man lying on his face in the street struggling for breath because the car that just hit him squashed his guts into places they were never intended to go? Have you ever SEEN a shattered pelvis? Have you ever had to explain to the person this guy had been walking with that it really didn't look good for his friend? Have you ever had to deal with an emotional witness who just watched this guy get plowed by a vehicle traveling at 35 miles per hour? Have you ever heard an Intensive Care nurse say words like cerebral hemorrhage, detached retina or abdominal trauma when describing your pedestrian's injuries?
Have you ever determined an area of impact based upon the location of property that flew out of a guy's pockets when the car hit him? Have you ever actually seen someone come out of their shoes? Have you seen the damage a human body does to the front of a motor vehicle, let alone the emotional damage it does to the driver of that motor vehicle? Have you ever had to convince the driver of the vehicle that there was truly NOTHING he could have done to avoid that collision because the guy literally stepped right out in front of his vehicle, in the middle of the block? Have you ever had to take that guy's vehicle as evidence anyway, even though you knew the collision wasn't his fault?
If you had to do these things, then you would know why I write jaywalking tickets. If you haven't, then don't give me shit for stubbing people for jaywalking. When you pull a 12 year old kid out from under the wheels of an SUV whose driver was HUA (that would be Head Up Ass), then come see me and we'll talk.
I don't write jaywalking tickets because it's fun. I write them because those things I mentioned are most certainly NOT fun, and if I can avoid doing them by writing a few more tickets, I'll take the writer's cramp any day, thank you very goddamned much. I get paid the same whether I write the tickets or the crash.
Again, no offense to justusforall, but make sure you cross in the crosswalk or I'll write you one too...
Word of the Day...
Presumptuous
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | full of, characterized by, or showing presumption or readiness to presume in conduct or thought. |
| 2. | unwarrantedly or impertinently bold; forward. |
| 3. | Obsolete. presumptive. |
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Huh? I'm Weird?
Okay, it took me a while to come up with appropriate things for this post, so here goes nothing.
5150wife has apparently tagged me, and I am now supposed to post seven weird things about myself. I'll have you know that it is not easy to come up with weird things about oneself, because to you they just don't seem, well, weird. So, with the help of Mrs. "Smith", here goes.
The rules are as follows: Simply link to the person who tagged you (see above). SHARE SEVEN WEIRD things about yourself (see below). Tag SEVEN bloggers to do the same AND include a link to their blog. Let each person know that they have been tagged and finally post the rules on your blog (that would be this paragraph).
1) I can hear very high pitched sounds, well above what is considered to be within the normal human auditory range. I can tell you where every single electronic deer repeller is in my city. When the pinsetters are acting up at the bowling alley, I know it because I can hear the stupid things whining away. I have run into very few other people who can hear these things, but when I do, I don't feel quite so crazy.
2) As I have said before, I like to watch COPS. To some folks a cop who watches COPS is weird.
3) I enjoy model railroading. Yes, that's right. I play with trains. Some people think it's strange for a grown man to play with trains, but I have had model trains for most of my life, and it's quite a lot of fun to be able to run a train around a track and watch how the kids' faces light up.
4) I can tell you every phone number I have had since I was 3 years old. I know my ex-wife's driver's license number and social security number, the driver's license number of a friend I haven't seen in ten years, my rifle serial number from basic training (16 years ago), and the old radio frequencies for every agency in the west end of my county (before everybody went trunked). Just a whole bunch of useless numbers. But, it took me forever to memorize Mrs. "Smith's" social security number... and I still don't know her driver's license number.
5) Mrs. "Smith" says I stand with my feet way too far apart. I normally stand with my feet just a bit over shoulder width apart, mostly because of my training as a police officer, to maintain my balance if someone bumps or pushes me you know? I don't consciously do it, it's just kinda become normal for me. But Mrs. "Smith" thinks it's weird.
6) I have been known to carry on conversations in my sleep. Mrs. "Smith" finds great amusement in this.
7) My music collection consists of classical, country, classic rock, bluegrass, metal, old school rap, big band, ska, hard rock, alternative, but ABSOLUTELY NO GANGSTA RAP! I have been known to go from Metallica to Mozart without batting an eye. Prokofiev, to Pantera, to Patsy Cline. I have only one musical boundary, and that is "songs" that talk about poppin a cap in yo babymomma's ass, and smackin yo sista down. Y'all can keep that shit.
So, that's it. I don't see or hear things. I don't talk to myself (or at least I don't answer myself). I don't see myself as something I'm not.
I don't dig the whole "tag you're it" thing, so I'll pass on tagging people to do this. I'll just challenge seven people to tag themselves and post a comment here to that effect, I think that will serve the same purpose. Anyone brave (read stupid) enough?
Buncha' weirdos...
5150wife has apparently tagged me, and I am now supposed to post seven weird things about myself. I'll have you know that it is not easy to come up with weird things about oneself, because to you they just don't seem, well, weird. So, with the help of Mrs. "Smith", here goes.
The rules are as follows: Simply link to the person who tagged you (see above). SHARE SEVEN WEIRD things about yourself (see below). Tag SEVEN bloggers to do the same AND include a link to their blog. Let each person know that they have been tagged and finally post the rules on your blog (that would be this paragraph).
1) I can hear very high pitched sounds, well above what is considered to be within the normal human auditory range. I can tell you where every single electronic deer repeller is in my city. When the pinsetters are acting up at the bowling alley, I know it because I can hear the stupid things whining away. I have run into very few other people who can hear these things, but when I do, I don't feel quite so crazy.
2) As I have said before, I like to watch COPS. To some folks a cop who watches COPS is weird.
3) I enjoy model railroading. Yes, that's right. I play with trains. Some people think it's strange for a grown man to play with trains, but I have had model trains for most of my life, and it's quite a lot of fun to be able to run a train around a track and watch how the kids' faces light up.
4) I can tell you every phone number I have had since I was 3 years old. I know my ex-wife's driver's license number and social security number, the driver's license number of a friend I haven't seen in ten years, my rifle serial number from basic training (16 years ago), and the old radio frequencies for every agency in the west end of my county (before everybody went trunked). Just a whole bunch of useless numbers. But, it took me forever to memorize Mrs. "Smith's" social security number... and I still don't know her driver's license number.
5) Mrs. "Smith" says I stand with my feet way too far apart. I normally stand with my feet just a bit over shoulder width apart, mostly because of my training as a police officer, to maintain my balance if someone bumps or pushes me you know? I don't consciously do it, it's just kinda become normal for me. But Mrs. "Smith" thinks it's weird.
6) I have been known to carry on conversations in my sleep. Mrs. "Smith" finds great amusement in this.
7) My music collection consists of classical, country, classic rock, bluegrass, metal, old school rap, big band, ska, hard rock, alternative, but ABSOLUTELY NO GANGSTA RAP! I have been known to go from Metallica to Mozart without batting an eye. Prokofiev, to Pantera, to Patsy Cline. I have only one musical boundary, and that is "songs" that talk about poppin a cap in yo babymomma's ass, and smackin yo sista down. Y'all can keep that shit.
So, that's it. I don't see or hear things. I don't talk to myself (or at least I don't answer myself). I don't see myself as something I'm not.
I don't dig the whole "tag you're it" thing, so I'll pass on tagging people to do this. I'll just challenge seven people to tag themselves and post a comment here to that effect, I think that will serve the same purpose. Anyone brave (read stupid) enough?
Buncha' weirdos...
Word of the Day...
Tactical
Anything painted black, and twice the price of the non tactical version, is tactical.
Anything painted black, and twice the price of the non tactical version, is tactical.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
ACLU, NAACP, PITA...
PITA = Pain in the Ass
I was covering another officer on a car stop today, when we came upon another one of those ACLU / NAACP pukes who like to "observe". I have no problem with people watching my stops. I have nothing to hide. What bugs me is when these "people" walk up to me while my partner is scratching out the cite and ask me some stupid question like "Is the young brotha free to go?"
My response in this case was "Nope. Not until his citation is completed." The "observer" then proceeded to walk up to the driver's window and attempt to talk to the driver. He got about half a word out before I was at him.
Me: Sir! Do you know this young man?
Him: No.
Me: Oh, because he needs someone with a license to drive his car away, since we aren't going to tow it.
Him: No, I don't know him.
Me: Then I'd suggest you step back before you become part of this traffic stop.
Him (To the driver): I'd like to talk with you when they're done.
Fortunately he elected to walk back across the street to his perch before I arrested him for obstructing.
It just bugs the shit out of me when these kinds of folks feel the need to insert themselves into something that does not involve them. Why does this man, who has no idea who this driver is, no idea why we have stopped him, and no idea what we are doing, feel like he has to stick his nose where it does not belong?
I'm sure this guy has had some negative experience with some police officer somewhere that has permanently skewed his views of all police officers. Surely he thinks we were trampling the civil rights of this fine upstanding young black man by stopping him for driving a car with no license plates and a cracked windshield, oh, and with a suspended license and no insurance.
I often wonder what thought process takes place leading these people to do this. Do they truly think we stopped this kid because he was black? Does he think we wouldn't have stopped a white, Hispanic or Asian person for the same damned thing? Does he really think we are racist pigs?
I bet if the driver we stopped WAS white, Hispanic or Asian, this fool couldn't have been bothered to take a second look. I don't understand why some black people insist upon equal treatment, then bitch when they get stopped for something I would stop anyone else for. Do you want equal treatment? Or is it only when it's positive treatment? Even my black friends and co-workers can't answer this one for me. They think it's just as crazy.
I'm sure this guy today would be absolutely shocked to find that I have friends who are black. He would most certainly have something to say to them too. Just so much bullshit.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some civil rights to trample...
I was covering another officer on a car stop today, when we came upon another one of those ACLU / NAACP pukes who like to "observe". I have no problem with people watching my stops. I have nothing to hide. What bugs me is when these "people" walk up to me while my partner is scratching out the cite and ask me some stupid question like "Is the young brotha free to go?"
My response in this case was "Nope. Not until his citation is completed." The "observer" then proceeded to walk up to the driver's window and attempt to talk to the driver. He got about half a word out before I was at him.
Me: Sir! Do you know this young man?
Him: No.
Me: Oh, because he needs someone with a license to drive his car away, since we aren't going to tow it.
Him: No, I don't know him.
Me: Then I'd suggest you step back before you become part of this traffic stop.
Him (To the driver): I'd like to talk with you when they're done.
Fortunately he elected to walk back across the street to his perch before I arrested him for obstructing.
It just bugs the shit out of me when these kinds of folks feel the need to insert themselves into something that does not involve them. Why does this man, who has no idea who this driver is, no idea why we have stopped him, and no idea what we are doing, feel like he has to stick his nose where it does not belong?
I'm sure this guy has had some negative experience with some police officer somewhere that has permanently skewed his views of all police officers. Surely he thinks we were trampling the civil rights of this fine upstanding young black man by stopping him for driving a car with no license plates and a cracked windshield, oh, and with a suspended license and no insurance.
I often wonder what thought process takes place leading these people to do this. Do they truly think we stopped this kid because he was black? Does he think we wouldn't have stopped a white, Hispanic or Asian person for the same damned thing? Does he really think we are racist pigs?
I bet if the driver we stopped WAS white, Hispanic or Asian, this fool couldn't have been bothered to take a second look. I don't understand why some black people insist upon equal treatment, then bitch when they get stopped for something I would stop anyone else for. Do you want equal treatment? Or is it only when it's positive treatment? Even my black friends and co-workers can't answer this one for me. They think it's just as crazy.
I'm sure this guy today would be absolutely shocked to find that I have friends who are black. He would most certainly have something to say to them too. Just so much bullshit.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some civil rights to trample...
Word of the Day...
Irrational
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | without the faculty of reason; deprived of reason. |
| 2. | without or deprived of normal mental clarity or sound judgment. |
| 3. | not in accordance with reason; utterly illogical: irrational arguments. |
| 4. | not endowed with the faculty of reason: irrational animals. |
Friday, February 15, 2008
One of Those Days...
I stopped a woman for jaywalking today. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: Hi! Do you have ID?
Her: Why?
Me: Because I asked.
Her: Why you stoppin' me?
Me: You're jaywalking.
Her: (Annoying lip smacking, clucking sound) You just stopped me because I'm black.
Me: ID please.
Her: I ain't got no damn ID.
Me: I can work around that. What's your name?
Her: Jane.
Me: Jane what?
Her: Why you need my last name?
Me: Because I do.
Her: Man, why you gonna be like that?
Me: What's your last name?
Her: Damn man....(That annoying smacking sound again) Doe. Why you gonna be like that?
Me: What's your address?
Her: San Francisco.
Me: The whole city?
Her: Huh?
Me: I asked you for your address...
Her: I SAID San Francisco. Why you gonna be like that?
Me: So if the court addresses your mail to San Francisco, you'll get it?
Her: Yeah.
Me: It usually helps if there's a street name, and maybe even a number.
Her: I live on Market Street.
Me: Okay, that's a start... how about a number?
Her: (415)555-
Me: Not your phone number.... your address.
Her: Market Street.
Me: (Sigh)
Her: What's yo problem?
Me: What is the number on the the door where you live?
Her: B. Why you gonna be like that?
Me: Is that the apartment number?
Her: Yeah.
Me: What number is on the outside of the building?
Her: 123
Me: Now we're getting somewhere.
Her: Why you gonna be like that?
Me: What's your date of birth?
Her: September.
Me: September?
Her: Yeah.
Me: What day?
Her: The 17th.
Me: And the year?
Her: Man, why you need to know that?
Me: Because I do.
Her: 1967, damn!
Me: Thank you so much!
Her: Why you gonna be like that?
Me: Sign here.
She signs the cite.
Her: When my court date?
Me: April.
Her: April what?
Me: April, the month.
Her: Is they a date in April?
Me: Yeah. There are 30 I think.
Her: Fuck you.
Me: (Annoying smacking sound) Why you gonna be like that?
Thankfully, she flipped me the bird and left. Stupidity reigns supreme. The funny part is, I don't think she was playing stupid. I'd bet it was for real.
Damn! Why you gonna be like that?
Me: Hi! Do you have ID?
Her: Why?
Me: Because I asked.
Her: Why you stoppin' me?
Me: You're jaywalking.
Her: (Annoying lip smacking, clucking sound) You just stopped me because I'm black.
Me: ID please.
Her: I ain't got no damn ID.
Me: I can work around that. What's your name?
Her: Jane.
Me: Jane what?
Her: Why you need my last name?
Me: Because I do.
Her: Man, why you gonna be like that?
Me: What's your last name?
Her: Damn man....(That annoying smacking sound again) Doe. Why you gonna be like that?
Me: What's your address?
Her: San Francisco.
Me: The whole city?
Her: Huh?
Me: I asked you for your address...
Her: I SAID San Francisco. Why you gonna be like that?
Me: So if the court addresses your mail to San Francisco, you'll get it?
Her: Yeah.
Me: It usually helps if there's a street name, and maybe even a number.
Her: I live on Market Street.
Me: Okay, that's a start... how about a number?
Her: (415)555-
Me: Not your phone number.... your address.
Her: Market Street.
Me: (Sigh)
Her: What's yo problem?
Me: What is the number on the the door where you live?
Her: B. Why you gonna be like that?
Me: Is that the apartment number?
Her: Yeah.
Me: What number is on the outside of the building?
Her: 123
Me: Now we're getting somewhere.
Her: Why you gonna be like that?
Me: What's your date of birth?
Her: September.
Me: September?
Her: Yeah.
Me: What day?
Her: The 17th.
Me: And the year?
Her: Man, why you need to know that?
Me: Because I do.
Her: 1967, damn!
Me: Thank you so much!
Her: Why you gonna be like that?
Me: Sign here.
She signs the cite.
Her: When my court date?
Me: April.
Her: April what?
Me: April, the month.
Her: Is they a date in April?
Me: Yeah. There are 30 I think.
Her: Fuck you.
Me: (Annoying smacking sound) Why you gonna be like that?
Thankfully, she flipped me the bird and left. Stupidity reigns supreme. The funny part is, I don't think she was playing stupid. I'd bet it was for real.
Damn! Why you gonna be like that?
Word of the Day...
Inappropriate
| adjective | |
| 1. | not suitable for a particular occasion etc; "noise seems inappropriate at a time of sadness"; "inappropriate shoes for a walk on the beach"; "put inappropriate pressure on them" [ant: appropriate] |
| 2. | not in keeping with what is correct or proper; "completely inappropriate behavior" |
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
The Death Penalty...
A segment on the news reminded me of the whole debate regarding the death penalty. Now they say there is evidence that the death penalty works. I am living proof that it does.
I grew up in the San Francisco bay area, within sight of San Quentin State Prison. I was perfectly content in knowing that if I ever murdered another human being under certain circumstances, I could end up in San Quentin, and in the electric chair. It worked. I never murdered anyone.
What's the problem?
I grew up in the San Francisco bay area, within sight of San Quentin State Prison. I was perfectly content in knowing that if I ever murdered another human being under certain circumstances, I could end up in San Quentin, and in the electric chair. It worked. I never murdered anyone.
What's the problem?
Word of the Day...
Incompatible
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | not compatible; unable to exist together in harmony: She asked for a divorce because they were utterly incompatible. |
| 2. | contrary or opposed in character; discordant: incompatible colors. |
| 3. | that cannot coexist or be conjoined. |
Monday, February 11, 2008
A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...
A co-worker sent me a string of funny photos a while back, and I thought I'd share them with y'all. These pics speak for themselves, so other than the words you are reading right now I'll say nothing else.
Here's the first one:
Here's the first one:
Word of the Day...
Recuperate
–verb (used without object)
–verb (used with object)
I hope USAIncognito has had an opportunity to recuperate from her rather disastrous past few days.
–verb (used without object)
| 1. | to recover from sickness or exhaustion; regain health or strength. |
| 2. | to recover from financial loss. |
–verb (used with object)
| 3. | to restore to health, vigor, etc. |
I hope USAIncognito has had an opportunity to recuperate from her rather disastrous past few days.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Hey Stupid...
Here are some of the ways I have heard to say someone is not the most intelligent person in the world:
As sharp as a bowling ball
As sharp as a sack of wet mice
Not the sharpest tool in the shed
Not the sharpest tool in the drawer
Not the sharpest knife in the block
One oar in the water
One wheel in the sand
One brick short of a load
Not playing with a full deck
Elevator doesn't go all the way to the top
As bright as a two watt bulb
High speed
Dumb as a post
He's a rock
A bottle short of a six pack
He's got the six pack, but he's missing the little plastic thingy that holds it together
If he gave his two cents worth, he'd be broke
And my personal favorite... Not the brightest bulb in the marquee
As sharp as a bowling ball
As sharp as a sack of wet mice
Not the sharpest tool in the shed
Not the sharpest tool in the drawer
Not the sharpest knife in the block
One oar in the water
One wheel in the sand
One brick short of a load
Not playing with a full deck
Elevator doesn't go all the way to the top
As bright as a two watt bulb
High speed
Dumb as a post
He's a rock
A bottle short of a six pack
He's got the six pack, but he's missing the little plastic thingy that holds it together
If he gave his two cents worth, he'd be broke
And my personal favorite... Not the brightest bulb in the marquee
Word of the Day...
Disgruntled
–adjective
displeased and discontented; sulky; peevish: Her disgruntled husband refused to join us.
–adjective
displeased and discontented; sulky; peevish: Her disgruntled husband refused to join us.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Stick it to 'Em...
On kinda the same note, I'm thinking about ordering a new baton from these guys. They have some good looking sticks, and I like the grips. I'm tired of the grommet sliding up my baton when I'm swinging it. You get a few good whacks in and the grommet is like half an inch from coming off.
Word of the Day...
Stymie
–noun
–verb (used with object)
–noun
| 1. | Golf. (on a putting green) an instance of a ball's lying on a direct line between the cup and the ball of an opponent about to putt. |
| 2. | a situation or problem presenting such difficulties as to discourage or defeat any attempt to deal with or resolve it. |
–verb (used with object)
| 3. | to hinder, block, or thwart. |
Friday, February 8, 2008
A Cure for the Itch?
Oh, how funny I must have looked today to those not "in the know". I had a small insect bite right smack in the middle of my chest, and it itched.... especially when it was covered by my body armor.
How I would have loved to see the looks on the faces of those who saw me with my ASP expanded and shoved down the front of my vest. I couldn't see them though -- because my hand was in front of my face moving my ASP back and forth to scratch the itch. Hey, it's the only thing I had with me that would reach!
I'm sure it was quite amusing. I wish I could have seen it...
How I would have loved to see the looks on the faces of those who saw me with my ASP expanded and shoved down the front of my vest. I couldn't see them though -- because my hand was in front of my face moving my ASP back and forth to scratch the itch. Hey, it's the only thing I had with me that would reach!
I'm sure it was quite amusing. I wish I could have seen it...
Word of the Day...
Facetious
[fuh-see-shuh
s]
–adjective
[fuh-see-shuh
s]–adjective
| 1. | not meant to be taken seriously or literally: a facetious remark. |
| 2. | amusing; humorous. |
| 3. | lacking serious intent; concerned with something nonessential, amusing, or frivolous: a facetious person. |
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Word of the Day...
Incongruous
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | out of keeping or place; inappropriate; unbecoming: an incongruous effect; incongruous behavior. |
| 2. | not harmonious in character; inconsonant; lacking harmony of parts: an incongruous mixture of architectural styles. |
| 3. | inconsistent: actions that were incongruous with their professed principles. |
Ummmm, What?
I did this test after seeing it on Officer Wright's blog. I did not expect the result I got...
Ronald Regan? I think the 69% likeness speaks volumes. If I am most like Regan, but only because his views and mine are 69% similar, that tells me that I am not truly like ANY past president.
HARUMPF!
 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Which Great US President Are You Most Like? created with QuizFarm.com | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| You scored as Ronald Reagan 40th President, in office from 1981-1989
|
Ronald Regan? I think the 69% likeness speaks volumes. If I am most like Regan, but only because his views and mine are 69% similar, that tells me that I am not truly like ANY past president.
HARUMPF!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
What a Combination...
I'm a Republican. I'm married to a Democrat. Interesting? Yes, but not unbearable.
She says she's a liberal, but I disagree. I think we're both moderate. I don't consider myself to be a true conservative either. We share similar views on many of the hot topics, and neither of us are absolutely aligned with our respective parties.
I think we fit more into the Libertarian vein myself, but there are no serious Libertarian presidential candidates, so I suppose we'll just have to vote for the lesser of two evils. Which one that may be is beyond me. There are no particularly appealing candidates for either of the big parties. All of the somewhat palatable candidates have dropped out.
I suppose we just have to pick up that shit sandwich and take a big ole bite. It ain't gonna be pretty, but we're just going to have to deal with the bad taste for the next four or eight years.
I hate politics.
She says she's a liberal, but I disagree. I think we're both moderate. I don't consider myself to be a true conservative either. We share similar views on many of the hot topics, and neither of us are absolutely aligned with our respective parties.
I think we fit more into the Libertarian vein myself, but there are no serious Libertarian presidential candidates, so I suppose we'll just have to vote for the lesser of two evils. Which one that may be is beyond me. There are no particularly appealing candidates for either of the big parties. All of the somewhat palatable candidates have dropped out.
I suppose we just have to pick up that shit sandwich and take a big ole bite. It ain't gonna be pretty, but we're just going to have to deal with the bad taste for the next four or eight years.
I hate politics.
Word of the Day...
Indeterminable
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | not determinable; incapable of being ascertained. |
| 2. | incapable of being decided or settled. |
Monday, February 4, 2008
Cost of Living...
The cost of living in the vicinity of the San Francisco bay area is astronomical. It really sucks to be a government employee, making over $70,000 a year, and not be able to afford to live anywhere NEAR where you work. But when houses run in excess of $600,000 what can you do?
Word of the Day...
Astronomical
–adjective
–adjective
| 1. | of, pertaining to, or connected with astronomy. |
| 2. | extremely large; exceedingly great; enormous: It takes an astronomical amount of money to build a car factory (or to live in the bay area for that matter). |
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!!!!
I hate to admit it, but Eli Manning EARNED the Superbowl. The Patriots made him work for it, but he friggin' earned it. As much as I hate to say it.... Good job Giants.
DAMMIT!
DAMMIT!
The Top Five Ways to Make the Bad Guys Surrender...
5) Pepper spray
4) Helicopter circling overhead
3) Popopopopopopopopopopopopopopop (That would be the sound of a Taser)
2) The sound of a round being racked into a shotgun
And the number one way to get your suspect to surrender:
POLICE DEPARTMENT! COME OUT NOW OR WE'LL SEND IN THE DOG!
WOOF!
4) Helicopter circling overhead
3) Popopopopopopopopopopopopopopop (That would be the sound of a Taser)
2) The sound of a round being racked into a shotgun
And the number one way to get your suspect to surrender:
POLICE DEPARTMENT! COME OUT NOW OR WE'LL SEND IN THE DOG!
WOOF!
Word of the Day...
Persuade
–verb (used with object), -suad·ed, -suad·ing.
The sounds of helicopters, racking shotguns, Tasers, and Thor (the K9) persuaded the suspect to give up.
WOOF!
–verb (used with object), -suad·ed, -suad·ing.
| 1. | to prevail on (a person) to do something, as by advising or urging: We could not persuade him to wait. |
| 2. | to induce to believe by appealing to reason or understanding; convince: to persuade the judge of the prisoner's innocence. |
The sounds of helicopters, racking shotguns, Tasers, and Thor (the K9) persuaded the suspect to give up.
WOOF!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Timbeeeeerrrrrrrr...
I spent two hours today blocking a road because a tree fell down.
The thought, I suppose, is that if I were to leave the tree unattended, some moron would come barreling down the street and run into it, thereby creating some financial responsibility on the part of the city. Or maybe that it might injure the tree, you never know this close to Berzerkeley.
Anyway, what have we come to when it becomes the responsibility of the police to ensure people notice a FREAKING TREE LAYING ACROSS THE ROAD?! Aren't we supposed to notice these things when we're driving? I always thought so.
Not once, not twice, but three times a vehicle drove around my patrol car... you know, the one sitting in the middle of the street with all the disco lights on top... and almost ran into the tree while I looked on disapprovingly.
I guess if they REALLY want to run into the tree, they're gonna do it whether I'm there or not.
The thought, I suppose, is that if I were to leave the tree unattended, some moron would come barreling down the street and run into it, thereby creating some financial responsibility on the part of the city. Or maybe that it might injure the tree, you never know this close to Berzerkeley.
Anyway, what have we come to when it becomes the responsibility of the police to ensure people notice a FREAKING TREE LAYING ACROSS THE ROAD?! Aren't we supposed to notice these things when we're driving? I always thought so.
Not once, not twice, but three times a vehicle drove around my patrol car... you know, the one sitting in the middle of the street with all the disco lights on top... and almost ran into the tree while I looked on disapprovingly.
I guess if they REALLY want to run into the tree, they're gonna do it whether I'm there or not.
Word of the Day...
Disapprove
verb (used with object)
–verb (used without object)
verb (used with object)
| 1. | to think (something) wrong or reprehensible; censure or condemn in opinion. |
| 2. | to withhold approval from; decline to sanction: The Senate disapproved the nominations. |
| 3. | to have an unfavorable opinion; express disapproval (usually fol. by of). |
Friday, February 1, 2008
The Berkeley Socialist Republic...
The Bronze posted about this on his blog yesterday but I still feel the need to express my disgust.
First, read this, and this ...
Now, I have so many fat juicy targets... where to begin?
"Joi said Code Pink, a group spawned by Bay Area peace activists, didn't even discover the recruiting station until about a week ago and immediately launched the first protest. Few City Hall staffers knew it was there, either."
You're shitting me! The City didn't know the recruiting station was there? Who in Hell gave them the permit to open a storefront in the City? How can ANY business open in the City of Berzerkeley without the City knowing? Bullshit!
"In a separate item, the council voted 8-1 to give Code Pink a designated parking space in front of the recruiting station once a week for six months and a free sound permit for protesting once a week from noon to 4 p.m."
Oh, so the City is providing this political group, for free, with things the rest of the population has to pay for. If I go to Berzerkeley I have to pay for parking. I would also have to pay for a comparable "sound permit". Does this mean the City of Berzerkeley is biased? Are they playing favorites? Am I being discriminated against? If Code Pink gets free parking, then by God I demand free parking as well if I should ever choose to go to that hell hole.
""I believe in the Code Pink cause. The Marines don't belong here, they shouldn't have come here, and they should leave," Berkeley Mayor Tom Bates said after votes were cast."
The MAYOR! Oh, I see. The Marines, who defend the right you are exercising by spewing forth these words, do not belong in your city. Defend my rights, just don't do it here. Gotcha. I'll make sure to tell them, if the country is ever invaded, to defend everything but Berzerkeley because they don't belong there.
On the news this evening, they showed several "activists" breaking the law. Yes, committing a misdemeanor right there on video. Four of these "people", and I use the term "people" loosely, were standing at the front door of the recruiting center, with arms linked together, physically restraining a man from entering the center. I mean physically holding him back, preventing him from lawfully entering a lawful establishment to conduct lawful business. Then the camera zoomed out and showed the coppers standing right across the street, watching. Did any of these heathens get arrested? Nope. Not a single one.
Perhaps the police in Berzerkeley don't say the same oath I, and the rest of us said. Maybe they say "to support and defend the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the State of California, except for the parts deemed unnecessary by the Berkeley City Council..."
Tonight Mrs. "Smith" called the City Council telephone number and left a message telling them just how disgusting they are. And she was disgustingly polite about it.
Perhaps, as I said in a comment on The Bronze Blog, Berzerkeley should just secede and become their own country. Or maybe their City Council would prefer to just renounce their U.S. citizenship... no, wait, that would mean they'd have to go elsewhere. That'll never happen when they can continue to annoy everyone around here. Maybe we should just kick the whole city out of the union, put up a big fence around it, and shoot everyone who tries to climb over it. (That comment will spin someone out for sure.)
I have pretty much boycotted Berzerkeley based upon their political stance on just about EVERYTHING. The one exception is one particular restaurant, because they're almost in Albany anyway.
Hey, Berkeley, GTFO. Hey, hey... ho, ho... Berzerkeley has got to go...
First, read this, and this ...
Now, I have so many fat juicy targets... where to begin?
"Joi said Code Pink, a group spawned by Bay Area peace activists, didn't even discover the recruiting station until about a week ago and immediately launched the first protest. Few City Hall staffers knew it was there, either."
You're shitting me! The City didn't know the recruiting station was there? Who in Hell gave them the permit to open a storefront in the City? How can ANY business open in the City of Berzerkeley without the City knowing? Bullshit!
"In a separate item, the council voted 8-1 to give Code Pink a designated parking space in front of the recruiting station once a week for six months and a free sound permit for protesting once a week from noon to 4 p.m."
Oh, so the City is providing this political group, for free, with things the rest of the population has to pay for. If I go to Berzerkeley I have to pay for parking. I would also have to pay for a comparable "sound permit". Does this mean the City of Berzerkeley is biased? Are they playing favorites? Am I being discriminated against? If Code Pink gets free parking, then by God I demand free parking as well if I should ever choose to go to that hell hole.
""I believe in the Code Pink cause. The Marines don't belong here, they shouldn't have come here, and they should leave," Berkeley Mayor Tom Bates said after votes were cast."
The MAYOR! Oh, I see. The Marines, who defend the right you are exercising by spewing forth these words, do not belong in your city. Defend my rights, just don't do it here. Gotcha. I'll make sure to tell them, if the country is ever invaded, to defend everything but Berzerkeley because they don't belong there.
On the news this evening, they showed several "activists" breaking the law. Yes, committing a misdemeanor right there on video. Four of these "people", and I use the term "people" loosely, were standing at the front door of the recruiting center, with arms linked together, physically restraining a man from entering the center. I mean physically holding him back, preventing him from lawfully entering a lawful establishment to conduct lawful business. Then the camera zoomed out and showed the coppers standing right across the street, watching. Did any of these heathens get arrested? Nope. Not a single one.
Perhaps the police in Berzerkeley don't say the same oath I, and the rest of us said. Maybe they say "to support and defend the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the State of California, except for the parts deemed unnecessary by the Berkeley City Council..."
Tonight Mrs. "Smith" called the City Council telephone number and left a message telling them just how disgusting they are. And she was disgustingly polite about it.
Perhaps, as I said in a comment on The Bronze Blog, Berzerkeley should just secede and become their own country. Or maybe their City Council would prefer to just renounce their U.S. citizenship... no, wait, that would mean they'd have to go elsewhere. That'll never happen when they can continue to annoy everyone around here. Maybe we should just kick the whole city out of the union, put up a big fence around it, and shoot everyone who tries to climb over it. (That comment will spin someone out for sure.)
I have pretty much boycotted Berzerkeley based upon their political stance on just about EVERYTHING. The one exception is one particular restaurant, because they're almost in Albany anyway.
Hey, Berkeley, GTFO. Hey, hey... ho, ho... Berzerkeley has got to go...
Word of the Day...
asinine
–adjective
Hey, Berzerkeley, this word's for you!
–adjective
| 1. | foolish, unintelligent, or silly; stupid: It is surprising that supposedly intelligent people can make such asinine statements. |
| 2. | of or like an ass: asinine obstinacy; asinine features. |
Hey, Berzerkeley, this word's for you!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Rumination...
Why is it, that whenever the bad guys run at night in a car, they feel the need to black out (turn the vehicle's lights off). Do they think "Ha, ha! My lights are off, you can't see me now!" or what?
Just curious.
Just curious.
Word of the Day...
Rumination
n.
Word up!
n.
- The act of pondering; meditation.
- The act or process of chewing cud.
Word up!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Crossing Borders...
Firefighters and cops. So many similarities, yet so many differences. I know, I know. Firefighters and police officers are supposed to be rivals and all that crap right? Well, sometimes you just have to forget that stuff, jump in, and get your hands dirty.
I signed up to be a police officer, not a firefighter, but when I was a Reserve Officer (many moons ago), I stumbled upon an apartment fire. It was something like 1:00 in the morning and there was nobody so much as farting in this apartment complex. Nasty black smoke was pouring out of the back window of a first floor apartment. I got on the radio and hollered for the fire department. Then what to do? Stand there and wait for them to show? Nope.
This complex had a secured heavy wooden door and I had no code. If there really is some divine being up there, he / she was watching that night, because I pulled on the locked door.... and it opened. I threw one handcuff around each side of the door handles to keep it from closing all the way and made my way to the apartment that was on fire.
If you have never worked around a structure fire, you never realize just how dynamic it all is. I pounded on the door with the butt end of my flashlight, and while I waited I looked down at the bottom of the door. Little wisps of black smoke literally slithered out from under the door, then they pulled back in. It was kinda freaky, like watching Harry Potter or something. After a second or so of such daydreaming I remembered why I was there and pounded the hell out of the door again.
Just as I was preparing to put the old size 12 to the door, it opened. A black cloud slid out of the apartment and washed over me. I have never felt so much heat at one time. And there is this woman, standing inside the door in her bathrobe, looking at me. I yelled at her to get out of the apartment. She said "I have to get my husband out first" and started to turn around. I grabbed her by the sleeve of her bathrobe and pulled. She fell on her behind and rolled backward onto the landing, cussing me up one side and down the other. I told her to get out into the courtyard and stay there.
I started yelling "POLICE! YOUR APARTMENT IS ON FIRE! GET OUT NOW!" as loud as I could while I was choking on the smoke. I squatted down to look under the smoke and see what I could see. The smoke was so thick, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Then there was this little space, about 18 inches from the floor, where it was totally clear. The underside of the smoke was rolling around like it was alive, but underneath it looked like everything was fine.
A pair of slippers started walking across the living room, but not quite toward the door. I yelled to come toward me and the slippers altered course toward my voice. As soon as the slippers walked out of the apartment I realized they were actually attached to a man.
Once I was certain all of the occupants were out of the apartment, I turned my attention to the surrounding apartments. That's when I realized there were four other officers already clearing them. I never even knew they were there before that moment.
The fire department showed up and watered down the apartment. They climbed in from the balcony on the opposite side of the building and started putting water on the kitchen, promptly blowing the kitchen window glass out of its frame and onto my head. When they were done, I saw what caused all that smoke and heat. A toaster. One lousy, stinking toaster. It had somehow shorted out and burned the underside of the cabinets above, then the flames went up the outside of the cabinets and onto the ceiling. All told, there were maybe 15 square feet of actual burn damage. But because of the smoke damage, the entire apartment was uninhabitable for months.
On the other side of that coin, we had a fire department Battalion Chief follow a stolen car a while back, and detain the driver until we arrived. He didn't have to. He could have put it out to us then kept on driving.
There will always be inter-service rivalry, but in the end, it all comes down to what is best for the public we serve. I will cross that border again.
We just roll like that.
I signed up to be a police officer, not a firefighter, but when I was a Reserve Officer (many moons ago), I stumbled upon an apartment fire. It was something like 1:00 in the morning and there was nobody so much as farting in this apartment complex. Nasty black smoke was pouring out of the back window of a first floor apartment. I got on the radio and hollered for the fire department. Then what to do? Stand there and wait for them to show? Nope.
This complex had a secured heavy wooden door and I had no code. If there really is some divine being up there, he / she was watching that night, because I pulled on the locked door.... and it opened. I threw one handcuff around each side of the door handles to keep it from closing all the way and made my way to the apartment that was on fire.
If you have never worked around a structure fire, you never realize just how dynamic it all is. I pounded on the door with the butt end of my flashlight, and while I waited I looked down at the bottom of the door. Little wisps of black smoke literally slithered out from under the door, then they pulled back in. It was kinda freaky, like watching Harry Potter or something. After a second or so of such daydreaming I remembered why I was there and pounded the hell out of the door again.
Just as I was preparing to put the old size 12 to the door, it opened. A black cloud slid out of the apartment and washed over me. I have never felt so much heat at one time. And there is this woman, standing inside the door in her bathrobe, looking at me. I yelled at her to get out of the apartment. She said "I have to get my husband out first" and started to turn around. I grabbed her by the sleeve of her bathrobe and pulled. She fell on her behind and rolled backward onto the landing, cussing me up one side and down the other. I told her to get out into the courtyard and stay there.
I started yelling "POLICE! YOUR APARTMENT IS ON FIRE! GET OUT NOW!" as loud as I could while I was choking on the smoke. I squatted down to look under the smoke and see what I could see. The smoke was so thick, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Then there was this little space, about 18 inches from the floor, where it was totally clear. The underside of the smoke was rolling around like it was alive, but underneath it looked like everything was fine.
A pair of slippers started walking across the living room, but not quite toward the door. I yelled to come toward me and the slippers altered course toward my voice. As soon as the slippers walked out of the apartment I realized they were actually attached to a man.
Once I was certain all of the occupants were out of the apartment, I turned my attention to the surrounding apartments. That's when I realized there were four other officers already clearing them. I never even knew they were there before that moment.
The fire department showed up and watered down the apartment. They climbed in from the balcony on the opposite side of the building and started putting water on the kitchen, promptly blowing the kitchen window glass out of its frame and onto my head. When they were done, I saw what caused all that smoke and heat. A toaster. One lousy, stinking toaster. It had somehow shorted out and burned the underside of the cabinets above, then the flames went up the outside of the cabinets and onto the ceiling. All told, there were maybe 15 square feet of actual burn damage. But because of the smoke damage, the entire apartment was uninhabitable for months.
On the other side of that coin, we had a fire department Battalion Chief follow a stolen car a while back, and detain the driver until we arrived. He didn't have to. He could have put it out to us then kept on driving.
There will always be inter-service rivalry, but in the end, it all comes down to what is best for the public we serve. I will cross that border again.
We just roll like that.
Word of the Day...
Pontificate
verb (used without object)
I tend not to do this when I make a traffic stop
verb (used without object)
| 1. | to speak in a pompous or dogmatic manner: Did he pontificate about the responsibilities of a good citizen? |
Monday, January 28, 2008
In the News...
Holy crap! I just did a Google search for Officer Smith. If I had done this search before I chose the name I probably would have selected something different.
Officer Smith killed in a car crash. Officer Smith killed in a shooting. Officer Smith arrested for domestic violence. Officer Smith to blame for shooting Thomas Fitzpatrick. Officer Smith MySpace page (no relation).
Geez, I had no idea. I just hope nobody mistakes me for those Officer Smiths.
By the way, my blog was the second hit on the search. Imagine my surprise.
Officer Smith killed in a car crash. Officer Smith killed in a shooting. Officer Smith arrested for domestic violence. Officer Smith to blame for shooting Thomas Fitzpatrick. Officer Smith MySpace page (no relation).
Geez, I had no idea. I just hope nobody mistakes me for those Officer Smiths.
By the way, my blog was the second hit on the search. Imagine my surprise.
Word of the Day...
Perpetuity
–noun, plural -ties.
–noun, plural -ties.
| 1. | the state or character of being perpetual (often prec. by in): to desire happiness in perpetuity. |
| 2. | endless or indefinitely long duration or existence; eternity. |
| 3. | something that is perpetual. |
| 4. | an annuity paid for life. |
| 5. | Law. an interest under which property is less than completely alienable for longer than the law allows. |
Sunday, January 27, 2008
You Win Some and You Lose Some...
I made a car stop a while back for having no brake lights. As I spoke with the driver, I noticed she was being just a bit too forthcoming and courteous. Something told me all was not as it should be. I started looking for a way into the car.
As I would ask the driver questions, her passenger kept answering (I hate it when they do that). The vehicle was a mini-van with Nevada plates, but the woman handed me a California driver's license. When I asked for the registration and insurance documents for the vehicle, the driver removed a rental agreement from her purse and handed it to me. The name on the rental agreement and the name on the license were different. I asked the driver who rented the car, and she replied that her friend had rented it. She told me the name on the rental agreement, but she didn't know the telephone number.
I returned to my patrol car and ran the driver out. Dispatch said she had a warrant for some sort of forgery. Upon the arrival of a cover unit, I asked the driver out of the car. I handcuffed her and sat her in the back of my patrol car.
Now, in California, when someone is arrested from a vehicle, I can search the interior of the vehicle and everything in it. I asked the passengers out of the van. As I searched the interior of the van, I located a hell of a lot of brand new clothing and electronic equipment. I later determined a total value in excess of $3000. I also located several receipts for the items in the van, which indicated the purchases were made by personal check. BIG, BRIGHT RED FLAG!
I noticed some of the receipts indicated returns at stores other than where the items were purchased. The returns were all for cash. That flag just got bigger and redder.
So I put two and two together. By now, I'm thinking I've stumbled upon a huge forgery and theft case. I was right too. The problem? It all happened in Nevada. I don't have jurisdiction in Nevada. So what do I have? A warrant, and a big found property case. I wrote a found property case with all I figured out, and forwarded it to the local PD in Nevada.
Here ya go fellas. I wrote the report for you, now you get to file it and take credit.
DAMMIT!
As I would ask the driver questions, her passenger kept answering (I hate it when they do that). The vehicle was a mini-van with Nevada plates, but the woman handed me a California driver's license. When I asked for the registration and insurance documents for the vehicle, the driver removed a rental agreement from her purse and handed it to me. The name on the rental agreement and the name on the license were different. I asked the driver who rented the car, and she replied that her friend had rented it. She told me the name on the rental agreement, but she didn't know the telephone number.
I returned to my patrol car and ran the driver out. Dispatch said she had a warrant for some sort of forgery. Upon the arrival of a cover unit, I asked the driver out of the car. I handcuffed her and sat her in the back of my patrol car.
Now, in California, when someone is arrested from a vehicle, I can search the interior of the vehicle and everything in it. I asked the passengers out of the van. As I searched the interior of the van, I located a hell of a lot of brand new clothing and electronic equipment. I later determined a total value in excess of $3000. I also located several receipts for the items in the van, which indicated the purchases were made by personal check. BIG, BRIGHT RED FLAG!
I noticed some of the receipts indicated returns at stores other than where the items were purchased. The returns were all for cash. That flag just got bigger and redder.
So I put two and two together. By now, I'm thinking I've stumbled upon a huge forgery and theft case. I was right too. The problem? It all happened in Nevada. I don't have jurisdiction in Nevada. So what do I have? A warrant, and a big found property case. I wrote a found property case with all I figured out, and forwarded it to the local PD in Nevada.
Here ya go fellas. I wrote the report for you, now you get to file it and take credit.
DAMMIT!
Word of the Day...
Indignant
–adjective
feeling, characterized by, or expressing strong displeasure at something considered unjust, offensive, insulting, or base: indignant remarks; an indignant expression on his face.
Or, how I felt for the rest of that friggin' day.
–adjective
feeling, characterized by, or expressing strong displeasure at something considered unjust, offensive, insulting, or base: indignant remarks; an indignant expression on his face.
Or, how I felt for the rest of that friggin' day.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
That's a Shot in the Shorts...
Thanks to Mrs. "Smith" for this one:
MELBOURNE, Australia - Two Australian robbers thought they were hauling away a big sack of cash from the Cuckoo Restaurant, but it turned out to be bread rolls — and one of them accidentally shot the other in the buttocks during the heist.
MELBOURNE, Australia - Two Australian robbers thought they were hauling away a big sack of cash from the Cuckoo Restaurant, but it turned out to be bread rolls — and one of them accidentally shot the other in the buttocks during the heist.
Benjamin Jorgensen, 38, and his accomplice Donna Hayes, 36, were sentenced Tuesday after pleading guilty to robbing the restaurant in the southern Australian city of Melbourne on April 1 last year.
During the April Fools Day holdup, Jorgensen grabbed what he believed was a bag with the Cuckoo's daily take of about U.S. $26,000 in cash, but later found it was full of bread rolls, the Victorian County Court heard.
He also fired his gun accidentally during the heist, shooting Hayes in the buttocks.
Judge Roland Williams told the robbers they were a "pair of fools," before sentencing Hayes to eight years in prison and Jorgensen to seven.
Earlier this week, defense lawyer Greg Thomas said Jorgensen had been under the influence of drugs at the time, had made a full admission to police and was remorseful, News Ltd. newspapers reported.
My favorite part is that the gal who got shot in the ass got an extra year. JUSTICE!!!Thursday, January 24, 2008
The Town Crier (Part II)....
Ee-freakin-gads... I stopped another one today.
I got her on the radar at 45 in a 25 mile per hour zone. It took me six blocks and a red light to catch up to her, then it took her another four and a half blocks to stop for the lights and siren.
As I approached the driver's window, I asked her if she knew the proper response when a police car was following her with the lights and siren on. She said she thought I was after someone else. Well, let's see, everyone else was MOVING OUT OF THE WAY, while you and I drove right by them.
Oh, she said, I didn't see you until we crossed the boulevard. Ahhh, well, the boulevard is four and a half blocks back, and that just happens to be where I turned the lights on in the first place.
Boo hoo, I have all kinds of problems in my life right now and I don't need a ticket. The transit cops have been writing me tickets every day for parking here without a permit. I'm about to end my temporary job.
Okay, so that makes it alright for you to drive through a residential area at 20 miles over the posted speed limit? Sign here.
"You must like ruining people's lives". This is where it gets ugly. You see, I did not make you drive 45 miles per hour in a 25 mile per hour zone. I did not make you fail to yield to my lights and siren. I am not making you quit your job. I didn't write you parking tickets because you failed to obtain a parking permit. I am not responsible for your personal issues. Sign here.
"I won't drive this way ever again". Good. I certainly hope you won't. I don't know about you, but I'd be pretty pissed off if somebody went tearing ass down my 25 mile per hour residential street at 45. And ya' know what? I'd be really spun if a cop pulled you over for driving 45 in my 25 neighborhood, and DIDN'T GIVE YOU A TICKET. Sign here.
I'm getting ready to transfer my insurance into my name, and a ticket is going to make that more expensive. Hmmm, okay. So take traffic school and keep the point from going on your driving record. No point, no insurance issues. Can't go to traffic school because you've already been? Then I guess you're just a bad driver. All the more reason you need a ticket. Sign here.
She finally signed the cite. I gave her her copy and walked away as she was calling after me to just listen to her. I'm sorry, I have already listened to you for far longer than I should have, and you have still not said anything terribly convincing.
I gotta go. I have tickets to write.
I got her on the radar at 45 in a 25 mile per hour zone. It took me six blocks and a red light to catch up to her, then it took her another four and a half blocks to stop for the lights and siren.
As I approached the driver's window, I asked her if she knew the proper response when a police car was following her with the lights and siren on. She said she thought I was after someone else. Well, let's see, everyone else was MOVING OUT OF THE WAY, while you and I drove right by them.
Oh, she said, I didn't see you until we crossed the boulevard. Ahhh, well, the boulevard is four and a half blocks back, and that just happens to be where I turned the lights on in the first place.
Boo hoo, I have all kinds of problems in my life right now and I don't need a ticket. The transit cops have been writing me tickets every day for parking here without a permit. I'm about to end my temporary job.
Okay, so that makes it alright for you to drive through a residential area at 20 miles over the posted speed limit? Sign here.
"You must like ruining people's lives". This is where it gets ugly. You see, I did not make you drive 45 miles per hour in a 25 mile per hour zone. I did not make you fail to yield to my lights and siren. I am not making you quit your job. I didn't write you parking tickets because you failed to obtain a parking permit. I am not responsible for your personal issues. Sign here.
"I won't drive this way ever again". Good. I certainly hope you won't. I don't know about you, but I'd be pretty pissed off if somebody went tearing ass down my 25 mile per hour residential street at 45. And ya' know what? I'd be really spun if a cop pulled you over for driving 45 in my 25 neighborhood, and DIDN'T GIVE YOU A TICKET. Sign here.
I'm getting ready to transfer my insurance into my name, and a ticket is going to make that more expensive. Hmmm, okay. So take traffic school and keep the point from going on your driving record. No point, no insurance issues. Can't go to traffic school because you've already been? Then I guess you're just a bad driver. All the more reason you need a ticket. Sign here.
She finally signed the cite. I gave her her copy and walked away as she was calling after me to just listen to her. I'm sorry, I have already listened to you for far longer than I should have, and you have still not said anything terribly convincing.
I gotta go. I have tickets to write.
Word of the Day...
Counterproductive
adj. Tending to hinder rather than serve one's purpose: "Violation of the court order would be counterproductive" (Philip H. Lee).
Kinda like crying at me.
adj. Tending to hinder rather than serve one's purpose: "Violation of the court order would be counterproductive" (Philip H. Lee).
Kinda like crying at me.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Do you want me around, or not?
We, as peace officers, have a real conundrum (there's a kick-ass word for you). The people we serve don't want to see us until they need us. But then they want to know why we weren't there to stop them from becoming a victim.
I can't tell you how many times I have driven through certain neighborhoods in my high profile marked patrol car, and had people of all ages staring at me. Kids, teens, adults and the elderly, all of whom have had some undesirable contact with the police, look at me as if they wish I would just die on the spot.
They don't want to see the police rolling around their neighborhood. I hear calls of "ROLLERS!" and "FIVE-O!" from street corners, warnings to cease illegal activity for the time being due to the presence of the cops. Kids who are barely old enough to wipe their own asses run away clutching at their waistbands. Seven year old kids stand on the corner with walkie talkies and cell phones. It's truly dumbfounding (there's one).
But God help us when one of these kids gets shot, or robbed, or beaten to a pulp because of his business or gang associations. Then it changes to "Where the fuck was you when my baby got shot?!" or "You motherfuckers don't give a shit about us! If you did you woulda' been here to keep Jerome from getting robbed".
Then when we come out and arrest the kids, we're just harassing them because of their race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, or some other miscellaneous bullshit.
Whoa! Wait a minute. Slow your roll there Mama. Check this shit out. If your "baby" wasn't slinging dope, he wouldn't have been standing on some other dealer's street corner, and therefore would not have been shot at. If he wasn't known to the entire neighborhood to be carrying large quantities of cash at any given time because of his illegal pharmaceutical business, he would not have gotten robbed. How does that hit you, huh?
Yes, no shit. Your "baby" is/was a criminal. He sold dope to other kids. He probably had a gun on him when he was shot too. And you know what else? The gun he had was probably stolen.
Excuse me if I sound cynical, but MAKE UP MY FUCKING MIND! Do you want us there, or don't you? If you do, you are just going to have to put up with us being there 24/7 for a long time to reclaim your neighborhood for you. And you need to improve your parenting skills because apparently you never explained to your youngsters that the shit they do is wrong.
If you don't want us there, don't call us when the shit hits the fan. Do as the gangbangers do and deal with your own problems, your own way. Either way, if you live in that neighborhood, you and your neighbors need to make a choice.
You can tell the kids who were raised properly, because they wave at the black and white with all their fingers, not just the middle one. There are still a few good kids in the bad parts of town, and they need all the help they can get. But if the adults are just showing them how to be criminals, they are beyond most of the help I can give them. I just send them to Officer Wright's hall, and they learn how to be bigger and better criminals.
Wow! The idea for this post started out as a rather light hearted jab at people who don't want us around until they need us. I guess when the feelings really start to come out, it can change the whole feel of a post.
Like I said when I started this blog so many months ago, if you can't handle it, go read someone else's warm and fuzzy blog. This is the shit my brothers and sisters and I deal with on a daily basis. If your kids are fortunate enough not to live in the shitty parts of town, consider yourself lucky.
Welcome to reality.
I can't tell you how many times I have driven through certain neighborhoods in my high profile marked patrol car, and had people of all ages staring at me. Kids, teens, adults and the elderly, all of whom have had some undesirable contact with the police, look at me as if they wish I would just die on the spot.
They don't want to see the police rolling around their neighborhood. I hear calls of "ROLLERS!" and "FIVE-O!" from street corners, warnings to cease illegal activity for the time being due to the presence of the cops. Kids who are barely old enough to wipe their own asses run away clutching at their waistbands. Seven year old kids stand on the corner with walkie talkies and cell phones. It's truly dumbfounding (there's one).
But God help us when one of these kids gets shot, or robbed, or beaten to a pulp because of his business or gang associations. Then it changes to "Where the fuck was you when my baby got shot?!" or "You motherfuckers don't give a shit about us! If you did you woulda' been here to keep Jerome from getting robbed".
Then when we come out and arrest the kids, we're just harassing them because of their race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, or some other miscellaneous bullshit.
Whoa! Wait a minute. Slow your roll there Mama. Check this shit out. If your "baby" wasn't slinging dope, he wouldn't have been standing on some other dealer's street corner, and therefore would not have been shot at. If he wasn't known to the entire neighborhood to be carrying large quantities of cash at any given time because of his illegal pharmaceutical business, he would not have gotten robbed. How does that hit you, huh?
Yes, no shit. Your "baby" is/was a criminal. He sold dope to other kids. He probably had a gun on him when he was shot too. And you know what else? The gun he had was probably stolen.
Excuse me if I sound cynical, but MAKE UP MY FUCKING MIND! Do you want us there, or don't you? If you do, you are just going to have to put up with us being there 24/7 for a long time to reclaim your neighborhood for you. And you need to improve your parenting skills because apparently you never explained to your youngsters that the shit they do is wrong.
If you don't want us there, don't call us when the shit hits the fan. Do as the gangbangers do and deal with your own problems, your own way. Either way, if you live in that neighborhood, you and your neighbors need to make a choice.
You can tell the kids who were raised properly, because they wave at the black and white with all their fingers, not just the middle one. There are still a few good kids in the bad parts of town, and they need all the help they can get. But if the adults are just showing them how to be criminals, they are beyond most of the help I can give them. I just send them to Officer Wright's hall, and they learn how to be bigger and better criminals.
Wow! The idea for this post started out as a rather light hearted jab at people who don't want us around until they need us. I guess when the feelings really start to come out, it can change the whole feel of a post.
Like I said when I started this blog so many months ago, if you can't handle it, go read someone else's warm and fuzzy blog. This is the shit my brothers and sisters and I deal with on a daily basis. If your kids are fortunate enough not to live in the shitty parts of town, consider yourself lucky.
Welcome to reality.
Word of the Day...
Conundrum
n.
n.
- A riddle in which a fanciful question is answered by a pun.
- A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; a dilemma: "the conundrum, thus far unanswered, of achieving full employment without inflation" (Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr.)
Monday, January 21, 2008
No Smoking...
In California we have a law prohibiting smoking within 25 feet of the entrance to any place of business. Unfortunately, I have found that some smokers, not all by any means, but many, are inconsiderate pricks.
It does not matter how many signs you post, how many times you ask them to move, or how many citations you write, there will always be some person standing within 5 feet of the entrance to whatever restaurant the "Smiths" go into, usually upwind as well, puffing away on a cancer stick and polluting the air for everyone who wishes to enter or exit. It torques me off to have to enter a business through a noxious cloud.
I firmly believe that you could paint a line on the ground at a 25 foot radius from the door, in neon colors no less... and paint the words "NO SMOKING" in fifteen languages along the length of that line, and there would still be some asshole with a cigarette standing inside that line anytime I want to enter or exit that particular business.
I have no actual, tangible proof of this, but I'd say the going thought is "I have the right to smoke, and if you don't like it, that's just too goddamned bad. I'm going to smoke when I want, where I want, and whatever I want. Lines, signs and whines be damned."
On occasion the business itself is just as much to blame as the smoker. A restaurant we somewhat regularly eat at in Dublin has two terra cotta pots filled with sand, which serve as ashtrays. That is, as far as I can tell, their intended use. The problem? They are two feet from either side of the front doors. So, where do the smokers stand? Right next to the ashtrays, of course.
Then there are the folks who take that one last drag before stubbing their butt, then they promptly walk inside and blow their cloud of smoke inside the business. You want to see me get really spun, do this one.
If you want to smoke, and kill yourself slowly, by all means, go right ahead. But please, don't try to take me with you. I kinda like my life, and I'd like to live it a little longer, okay? Thanks. Also, please don't think your "right to smoke" outweighs my right to breathe. There are laws in place for a reason. If you're just an inconsiderate asshole, as I have said in previous posts, I can't help you overcome that. But at the very least perhaps you could take my statements about your "inconsiderateness" at face value, and realize I am not trying to be insulting. Rather I am insulted.
As usual, do I have a low tolerance for inconsiderate assholes? Why, yes. As a matter of fact I do.
So, put that in your pipe and smoke it.
It does not matter how many signs you post, how many times you ask them to move, or how many citations you write, there will always be some person standing within 5 feet of the entrance to whatever restaurant the "Smiths" go into, usually upwind as well, puffing away on a cancer stick and polluting the air for everyone who wishes to enter or exit. It torques me off to have to enter a business through a noxious cloud.
I firmly believe that you could paint a line on the ground at a 25 foot radius from the door, in neon colors no less... and paint the words "NO SMOKING" in fifteen languages along the length of that line, and there would still be some asshole with a cigarette standing inside that line anytime I want to enter or exit that particular business.
I have no actual, tangible proof of this, but I'd say the going thought is "I have the right to smoke, and if you don't like it, that's just too goddamned bad. I'm going to smoke when I want, where I want, and whatever I want. Lines, signs and whines be damned."
On occasion the business itself is just as much to blame as the smoker. A restaurant we somewhat regularly eat at in Dublin has two terra cotta pots filled with sand, which serve as ashtrays. That is, as far as I can tell, their intended use. The problem? They are two feet from either side of the front doors. So, where do the smokers stand? Right next to the ashtrays, of course.
Then there are the folks who take that one last drag before stubbing their butt, then they promptly walk inside and blow their cloud of smoke inside the business. You want to see me get really spun, do this one.
If you want to smoke, and kill yourself slowly, by all means, go right ahead. But please, don't try to take me with you. I kinda like my life, and I'd like to live it a little longer, okay? Thanks. Also, please don't think your "right to smoke" outweighs my right to breathe. There are laws in place for a reason. If you're just an inconsiderate asshole, as I have said in previous posts, I can't help you overcome that. But at the very least perhaps you could take my statements about your "inconsiderateness" at face value, and realize I am not trying to be insulting. Rather I am insulted.
As usual, do I have a low tolerance for inconsiderate assholes? Why, yes. As a matter of fact I do.
So, put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Word of the Day...
Obstinate
| 1. | firmly or stubbornly adhering to one's purpose, opinion, etc.; not yielding to argument, persuasion, or entreaty. |
| 2. | characterized by inflexible persistence or an unyielding attitude; inflexibly persisted in or carried out: obstinate advocacy of high tariffs. |
| 3. | not easily controlled or overcome: the obstinate growth of weeds. |
| 4. | not yielding readily to treatment, as a disease. |
Saturday, January 19, 2008
The 15 Minute Lunch...
I'm sorry, but this fool is so friggin' funny I had to add a link to his blog. No, it's not law enforcement related, but it's a hoot anywho... Check him out.
15 Minute Lunch
15 Minute Lunch
E-mail...
Well. It seems as though this Officer "Smith" alter ego of mine has taken off. I never expected to have two people reading this blog, let alone over two hundred.
As a result, I have added an e-mail address to my profile for the benefit of those who would like to contact me via e-mail. If you have always wanted to comment on my blog and you don't have a blogger identity, you can e-mail me now. If you have always wanted to tell me what an ass I am, but you've been polite enough not to make a public comment on my blog, you can e-mail me too. Whatever the reason, I may now be contacted by e-mail.
This is by no means a request to stop publicly commenting on my blog. By all means, keep the comments coming. The e-mail address is simply yet another line of communication into the world of Officer "Smith".
Thanks to all of my loyal readers.
As a result, I have added an e-mail address to my profile for the benefit of those who would like to contact me via e-mail. If you have always wanted to comment on my blog and you don't have a blogger identity, you can e-mail me now. If you have always wanted to tell me what an ass I am, but you've been polite enough not to make a public comment on my blog, you can e-mail me too. Whatever the reason, I may now be contacted by e-mail.
This is by no means a request to stop publicly commenting on my blog. By all means, keep the comments coming. The e-mail address is simply yet another line of communication into the world of Officer "Smith".
Thanks to all of my loyal readers.
Word of the Day...
Multitudinous
Kind of like my increasing number of e-mail addresses.
| 1. | forming a multitude or great number; existing, occurring, or present in great numbers; very numerous. |
| 2. | comprising many items, parts, or elements. |
| 3. | Archaic. crowded or thronged. |
Kind of like my increasing number of e-mail addresses.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
I'll Get Him Tomorrow...
Today I got punked. I stopped a guy for speeding, and discovered he didn't have a license because he is illegal. I could have towed the car, but since it was his uncle's car, and he had no prior driving record (according to dispatch), I elected to let him call his uncle to pick up the car. He started down the on ramp, and I drove onto the freeway.
After taking the next exit and doubling back on the frontage road, I noticed his car was gone. SON OF A BITCH!! I got back on the freeway and went weaving through traffic all the way to the interchange, but he was in the wind. I was spun for the rest of the friggin' day.
I ran him out myself later, and I discovered the dispatcher had run him out incorrectly. He has two prior convictions for driving without a license, and his license is now suspended. Funny how the DMV can suspend a license you don't even have huh?
That's okay though. I know where he lives. What am I going to do now? I'm gonna sit on his car tomorrow morning and wait for him to drive away. Them I'm going to put the stop on him again, and hook him up for driving without a license, because he obviously didn't learn from the citation I wrote him today.
Do I have a low tolerance for illegals? Yes I do.
How do you say "So there.... asshole" in Spanish?
After taking the next exit and doubling back on the frontage road, I noticed his car was gone. SON OF A BITCH!! I got back on the freeway and went weaving through traffic all the way to the interchange, but he was in the wind. I was spun for the rest of the friggin' day.
I ran him out myself later, and I discovered the dispatcher had run him out incorrectly. He has two prior convictions for driving without a license, and his license is now suspended. Funny how the DMV can suspend a license you don't even have huh?
That's okay though. I know where he lives. What am I going to do now? I'm gonna sit on his car tomorrow morning and wait for him to drive away. Them I'm going to put the stop on him again, and hook him up for driving without a license, because he obviously didn't learn from the citation I wrote him today.
Do I have a low tolerance for illegals? Yes I do.
How do you say "So there.... asshole" in Spanish?
Word of the Day...
Based upon that post, I'd say the word of the day today is...
Deportation
Deportation
| 1. | the lawful expulsion of an undesired alien or other person from a state. |
| 2. | an act or instance of deporting. |
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Snow Day...
We took the little "Smiths" to the snow today. It was the youngest one's first time to play in the snow. We went up to Emigrant Gap, just west of Donner Summit and found a big empty meadow off a side road. There were several other groups there, but it wasn't terribly crowded. It was an absolutely gorgeous day. It had to have been in the low 60's, and I was running around in a t-shirt.
The snow was pretty loosely packed and I found myself nearly up to my... ummm... waist, a few times. Beautiful, white, fluffy, soft snow. While tobogganing down a hill I was reminded of a small fact I had forgotten in the many years since I last slid down a snow covered hill... SNOW HURTS!
It may be soft when you're trying to stand on it, but when you're sliding across it, not so much. The snow we were on was covered with a layer of ice crystals, and it might as well have been frozen sand paper. There are still pieces of my knuckles and elbow on that slope. But hey, it was fun anyway.
Not to mention rather beautiful...
And my snow bunny...
Don't make fun of my snow bunny dammit... He'll frostbite your ankles...
The snow was pretty loosely packed and I found myself nearly up to my... ummm... waist, a few times. Beautiful, white, fluffy, soft snow. While tobogganing down a hill I was reminded of a small fact I had forgotten in the many years since I last slid down a snow covered hill... SNOW HURTS!
It may be soft when you're trying to stand on it, but when you're sliding across it, not so much. The snow we were on was covered with a layer of ice crystals, and it might as well have been frozen sand paper. There are still pieces of my knuckles and elbow on that slope. But hey, it was fun anyway.
Not to mention rather beautiful...
And my snow bunny...
Don't make fun of my snow bunny dammit... He'll frostbite your ankles...
Word of the Day...
Interpolate
Another one that just sounds neat.
| 1. | to introduce (something additional or extraneous) between other things or parts; interject; interpose; intercalate. |
| 2. | Mathematics. to insert, estimate, or find an intermediate term in (a sequence). |
| 3. | to alter (a text) by the insertion of new matter, esp. deceptively or without authorization. |
Another one that just sounds neat.
Friday, January 11, 2008
You're Not Real Bright Are You?
I was just watching COPS (yes, I know, a cop who watches COPS right?) and I was reminded of another one of my pet peeves. I have a lot of them ya' know? Not that I really expect the criminal element to read my cop blog, but I'll throw this out there anyway. Just in case...
If you are caught in the commission of a felony (that would be things like robbery, burglary, auto theft, murder, etc.) and the police tell you to get down on the ground... for God's sake, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND.
DO NOT reach for your waistband, even to pull your pants up.
DO NOT get on your knees and stay there.
DO NOT gripe that the ground is wet and you don't want to get down in it. You are going to get down in it whether you want to or not. Either under your own power, or under mine with a shoe print on your back, so just save us both the trouble and prone yourself out okay?
DO NOT turn around and walk toward the copper who's telling you to get down.
I know it's a stretch, but we really do expect you to get down on your face when we tell you to. Yes... the cops, the lights, the guns and the dogs are serious.
So, on that note...
GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!!!!!!
Just checking...
If you are caught in the commission of a felony (that would be things like robbery, burglary, auto theft, murder, etc.) and the police tell you to get down on the ground... for God's sake, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND.
DO NOT reach for your waistband, even to pull your pants up.
DO NOT get on your knees and stay there.
DO NOT gripe that the ground is wet and you don't want to get down in it. You are going to get down in it whether you want to or not. Either under your own power, or under mine with a shoe print on your back, so just save us both the trouble and prone yourself out okay?
DO NOT turn around and walk toward the copper who's telling you to get down.
I know it's a stretch, but we really do expect you to get down on your face when we tell you to. Yes... the cops, the lights, the guns and the dogs are serious.
So, on that note...
GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!!!!!!
Just checking...
Word of the Day...
I think I'm gonna try something different here. Since I seem to have no shortage of words for the wise, I think I'm going to post a new word every day. Today's word...
Odoriferous
A guy who got caught for DUI in Durham NC had quite an odoriferous issue. The cops just followed the doggie doo footprints. SNIFF SNIFF... Do you smell something?
Odoriferous
A guy who got caught for DUI in Durham NC had quite an odoriferous issue. The cops just followed the doggie doo footprints. SNIFF SNIFF... Do you smell something?
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
He's Westbound on Main Street!!!
The best thing in law enforcement is a good old fashioned car chase. I love pursuits. Pursuits can be thrilling and terrifying at the same time. It's like a roller coaster ride, but you're driving the roller coaster.
Some people would like to ban vehicle pursuits. Sure, why not. Don't let the police pursue, and there will be no more pursuit related crashes, right? I certainly can't argue with that logic... can you?
My problem is this. If you don't let me chase the bad guys, why should anyone stop when I try to pull them over? Oh, you say... but we can get their license plate number and meet them at home. Sure. But what if they don't have license plates?
Well, you say... then we get a helicopter to follow them and we get them when they get out of the car. Okay. When was the last time you tried to get a helicopter? Sometimes they're in the right place at the right time, and it's good. Most of the time... not so much.
Alright then, you say... we'll let you pursue for violent felonies, but not for minor traffic violations. Fine. Then why should the guy I'm trying to stop for speeding bother to pull over? Speeding isn't a violent felony. Let me let you in on a little secret here. I wouldn't pursue a speeder anyway. If he ran, I'd chase him until he did something dangerous or stupid, say driving on the wrong side of the freeway or something, but then I'd terminate. You don't have to ban me from chasing him in the first place.
It really spins me out when parts of my job are legislated away. Something happens during a pursuit, and all of a sudden there's a senator who feels the need to ban pursuits. Someone dies after they're exposed to a Taser (notice I didn't say they died BECAUSE of the Taser) and suddenly there's a cry to ban Taser use.
Aside from being one of the most exciting aspects of police work, pursuits are exceedingly rare. In fact, I haven't been involved in a pursuit in over a year. Contrary to popular (read ignorant) belief, we do not run around chasing everything for anything. We have policies regarding pursuits. We don't need legislation on top of that.
Don't try to take my fun away and make my job more difficult at the same time. Oh, and don't tell Admin pursuits are fun.
Some people would like to ban vehicle pursuits. Sure, why not. Don't let the police pursue, and there will be no more pursuit related crashes, right? I certainly can't argue with that logic... can you?
My problem is this. If you don't let me chase the bad guys, why should anyone stop when I try to pull them over? Oh, you say... but we can get their license plate number and meet them at home. Sure. But what if they don't have license plates?
Well, you say... then we get a helicopter to follow them and we get them when they get out of the car. Okay. When was the last time you tried to get a helicopter? Sometimes they're in the right place at the right time, and it's good. Most of the time... not so much.
Alright then, you say... we'll let you pursue for violent felonies, but not for minor traffic violations. Fine. Then why should the guy I'm trying to stop for speeding bother to pull over? Speeding isn't a violent felony. Let me let you in on a little secret here. I wouldn't pursue a speeder anyway. If he ran, I'd chase him until he did something dangerous or stupid, say driving on the wrong side of the freeway or something, but then I'd terminate. You don't have to ban me from chasing him in the first place.
It really spins me out when parts of my job are legislated away. Something happens during a pursuit, and all of a sudden there's a senator who feels the need to ban pursuits. Someone dies after they're exposed to a Taser (notice I didn't say they died BECAUSE of the Taser) and suddenly there's a cry to ban Taser use.
Aside from being one of the most exciting aspects of police work, pursuits are exceedingly rare. In fact, I haven't been involved in a pursuit in over a year. Contrary to popular (read ignorant) belief, we do not run around chasing everything for anything. We have policies regarding pursuits. We don't need legislation on top of that.
Don't try to take my fun away and make my job more difficult at the same time. Oh, and don't tell Admin pursuits are fun.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
I Should Have Said "Merriam Webster are Profusely Entertaining"...
More words I like:
Gratuitous
Egregious
Expedient
Counterproductive
Ousted
Exacerbate
Perturbed
Protuberance - I love that one
Kitsch
Introspect
Precipitation - Because if you say "rain", it will rain.
Interdependence
Soporific - Thank you Flopsy Bunnies
Indifferent
Disheveled
Palindrome
Phantasmagoria
Gallivanting - Almost as much fun to say as it is to do!
Bifurcate
Faux - Really!
Shampoo - As opposed to real poo?
Gregarious
Oh my! I get the feeling this is going to be a regular thing. I could keep on for days! That's all for this particular installment.
Gratuitous
Egregious
Expedient
Counterproductive
Ousted
Exacerbate
Perturbed
Protuberance - I love that one
Kitsch
Introspect
Precipitation - Because if you say "rain", it will rain.
Interdependence
Soporific - Thank you Flopsy Bunnies
Indifferent
Disheveled
Palindrome
Phantasmagoria
Gallivanting - Almost as much fun to say as it is to do!
Bifurcate
Faux - Really!
Shampoo - As opposed to real poo?
Gregarious
Oh my! I get the feeling this is going to be a regular thing. I could keep on for days! That's all for this particular installment.
Friday, January 4, 2008
More Words for the Wise...
I was just sitting here mulling over all the myriad names for the bad guys. There are the nice ones like suspect, perpetrator (perp for the east coast crew), and arrestee. Then there are the names we tend not to use in public conversation. Okay boys & girls, there's some language coming up so cover you ears (eyes).
Knucklehead
Shithead
Shitbag
Dirtbag
Tool Bag
Turd
Moron
Dip Shit
Bright Star
Dim Wit
Sparky
Knucklehead
Shithead
Shitbag
Dirtbag
Tool Bag
Turd
Moron
Dip Shit
Bright Star
Dim Wit
Sparky
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
One Hundred Eighty...
180.
That's how many officers we lost nationwide in 2007. That is the highest number of officers killed in one year since 2001. There was no terrorist attack in 2007. How are we dying?
According to the Officer Down Memorial Page :
9/11 Related Illness: 6
Accidental: 3
Aircraft Accident: 3
Animal Related: 1
Automobile Accident: 47
Boating Accident: 1
Bomb: 5
Drowned: 3
Exposure to Toxins: 1
Fall: 2
Gunfire: 63
Gunfire (Accidental): 4
Heart Attack: 7
Heat Exhaustion: 1
Motorcycle Accident: 5
Struck by Vehicle: 9
Vehicle Pursuit: 6
Vehicular Assault: 11
Weather / Natural Disaster: 2
Notice the highest numbers are Automobile Accident and Gunfire. Let's all remember to wear our vests and seatbelts, and keep our heads on a swivel. Don't be in too big of a hurry to go over that fence or around that corner.
Don't be the next one. I know I won't.
That's how many officers we lost nationwide in 2007. That is the highest number of officers killed in one year since 2001. There was no terrorist attack in 2007. How are we dying?
According to the Officer Down Memorial Page :
9/11 Related Illness: 6
Accidental: 3
Aircraft Accident: 3
Animal Related: 1
Automobile Accident: 47
Boating Accident: 1
Bomb: 5
Drowned: 3
Exposure to Toxins: 1
Fall: 2
Gunfire: 63
Gunfire (Accidental): 4
Heart Attack: 7
Heat Exhaustion: 1
Motorcycle Accident: 5
Struck by Vehicle: 9
Vehicle Pursuit: 6
Vehicular Assault: 11
Weather / Natural Disaster: 2
Notice the highest numbers are Automobile Accident and Gunfire. Let's all remember to wear our vests and seatbelts, and keep our heads on a swivel. Don't be in too big of a hurry to go over that fence or around that corner.
Don't be the next one. I know I won't.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
Well, it's now 2008. I have to remember to write 08 on my cites now. It'll take me about two weeks to stop writing 07. It always does.
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