Another Public Service Announcement...

I dropped in at my local off-duty Starbucks this morning, and when I drove in to the parking lot I saw this...

We call this an "FBI clue".  Something so obvious ANYONE should be able to figure it out.  When you see a pile of broken window glass on the pavement it is a pretty good indication the last schmuck who parked there left his laptop bag or her purse in the car, the window got broken and their shit got stolen.

Where I work we take these all the time.  Like daily.  SEVERAL TIMES daily.

I've heard all the excuses....

"It's too inconvenient to take my bag in with me."  Is it more inconvenient than paying for the $200 broken window and replacing your iPad?  Maybe you're just too lazy to carry it in?

"I was only in there for a minute!"  And your shit was in the wind in seconds!  It takes no time for a bad guy to smash your window and grab your stuff.

"There was nothing valuable in my bag."  Please, tell me how the bad guys know that?  From outside your car.  Looking in through the window.  They don't, nor do they care.  All they see is a bag in a car that may or may not contain a laptop.  It costs them nothing to smash your window and find out.

"But my windows are tinted."  Okay.  Can you see out through those tinted windows?  Well, guess what.  The bad guys can see in too.

While I have to at least appear concerned when I'm dealing with "victims" of theft, it is difficult to sympathize with them.  But when I suggest that they should have taken their stuff with them, and NOT in the tone I use here, believe me, the responses I get are astounding.

It should be common sense folks, although it seems it is not so common these days.

With the advent of the effective decriminalization of misdemeanors thanks to our California voters, these vehicle burglaries have skyrocketed.  There is really no consequence to being a thief anymore, so now it is upon you, the people, to protect your stuff by not leaving it in your car.

Otherwise, it will be upon us, law enforcement, to come out and take your report so you can make your insurance claims and raise all our rates.

And don't think just because you live in Atherton, or Kensington, or Beverly Fucking Hills you'll be immune to this.

Don't be that guy...

Victor! Are You Still Alive?!

YES, I'm still alive!

Perhaps I may have used that title before, but to be honest, it's been so damned long I don't remember.

Does anyone even read this blog anymore?

Would it be worthwhile to post things on here now and then or has this poor neglected page fallen off everyone's radar?

Someone let me know, eh?

Out...

HTC Bolt and Sprint "Customer Care"

So, it sucks to make this my first post in several years, but since Sprint sees fit to remove all reviews of this piece of shit phone from their web site, I have no other forum.

In November (2016) I "upgraded" my phone to an HTC Bolt.  The same day, before I even got home with it, there was a dead line of pixels down the screen.  I took the phone back to the Sprint Store the next day, and by then it had two dead lines.  The Sprint Store replaced the phone without a problem.

Fast forward five months, and after working slowly, but at least still working, the screen on the Bolt went tits up.  It would not even come on half the time.  The phone still worked, but there was nothing displayed on the screen.  So I did what any responsible phone owner would do...  I took it to the Sprint repair store to see what my insurance would do for me.

So the repair guys at the Emeryville Sprint Store are awesome.  Brain and Andrew handled the replacement of my phone.  A refurbished phone was ordered and arrived a couple days later, so I made the trek down to the store to have it activated.

Dead, right out of the box.  The screen on the replacement phone would not even come on.  The phone powered on and started talking like HTC phones do, but the screen was dead.  So, yet another phone ordered.  Number four arrived Friday and Andrew checked it to make sure it worked before I wasted another trip to the store.  When the phone powered up and seemed right, I went to the store and picked it up.

Two days later I'm walking around in Target, and I pick my phone up to look at something.  I'm damned if I can remember what I was going to look at, because THE FUCKING SCREEN WOULDN'T COME ON!

Andrew recommended calling Sprint Customer Care to see if they could do something, because otherwise I would either get the same model of phone or a step down.  So today, I called Sprint.  After three hours on the phone with four people in the Philippines and two more here in the U.S. of A. I learn that there is absolutely nothing Sprint is willing to do for me.

My options?  I can take the phone downgrade from the insurance while continuing to pay off the Bolt I will no longer have, or...

I can pay $340 to pay off the Bolt and then pay again for another upgrade, or...

I can pay that $340 and cancel my Sprint service.

I find it very telling that when I look on the Sprint web site, there are absolutely no reviews for this piece of shit phone, after hearing from the repair guys that there are constant problems with the Bolt.  And yet, Sprint continues to sell them in their stores and won't even allow customers to see reviews online.

After having been a Sprint customer for over fifteen years, I find myself eyeing Verizon.  Thanks Sprint. 

Once this phone is paid off you'll never see another dime from me...

Peekaboo!

I was working speeders on Friday at a spot I haven't worked in quite a few months.

It's fun to see people, after that amount of time, still glancing over as they drive by to see if I'm there.

Yup!  I'm there...

And Now for Something Completely Different....

This is not entirely a police related topic, but it still irks me.

When did pajama bottoms and flip-flops become proper public attire? Every day I see people wearing their freakin' bed clothes to the store, to restaurants, and even to school. WTF? And I'm not just talking about teenagers either. I see grown adults dropping their kids off for school or grocery shopping while wearing pajama bottoms. I even saw a gal the other day wearing SLIPPERS for crying out loud.

Then you see the women who think it's "sexy" to let their pajama bottoms sag down so low it shows off their ass fault. This is not sexy, it's slovenly. It makes me want to tell these people to put some clothes on.

It seems that the people who dress in this fashion are also the ones who have a fashionable attitude. If you comment on their clothing, they snap back at you as if it's none of your business how they dress. IT IS MY BUSINESS! I HAVE TO LOOK AT YOUR ASS STANDING IN LINE IN FRONT OF ME!

Then there's the stuff parents wear when they're taking their kids to school. I saw a guy just this morning who was wearing a t-shirt that said "DON'T GIVE" with a picture of a rat, holding a leash, attached to a donkey. What kind of message are we sending when we take our first grader to school while we are wearing a t-shirt that says we don't give a rat's ass?

Last week it was a mother wearing a "Camel Towing" t-shirt. And don't even get me started on the giant marijuana leaves. These are the people who wonder why the police pay so much attention to them. Give me a freakin' break. It makes me want to get a t-shirt that says "You're an idiot", but then again, I don't want to reduce myself to their level.

What has our society become when people feel that they can do whatever they want, then blame it on someone else when they are called on it?

Ridiculous...

Pinching Pennies...

On a recent trip to our friendly neighborhood traffic court, I overheard a defendant say to the commissioner "I was hoping, since this is my first offense, the fine could be lowered."

Funny thing is, the fine for a first offense IS lower than for subsequent offenses.

I guess it's your lucky day...

Any Questions?

There seems to be a disconnect in the brains of people who come into our traffic court.  They don't seem to understand the difference between a question and a statement.

When the commissioner asks "Do you have questions of the officer?", almost every defendant, every day starts out with something similar to "Yes.  So, what had happened was, there I was, driving along and minding my own business....."

It's basic English folks.  Questions begin with who, what, where, why, how, is it true that, etc...

If you have no questions, simply say "No, I don't have any questions, I'd just like to tell my side of the story."

It's really not rocket surgery...

Hats & Bats...

Hats and Bats. That's one way to say we're gearing up for crowd control. We're getting our riot helmets and our riot batons out and getting ready for a scrum.

So it was funny last Halloween when I looked at Mrs. Smith's ears and saw her Halloween ear rings. She was wearing little googly eyed bats and little witch hats.

Hats & Bats.

Awesome...

I miss you, my dearest.

Blue Widow(er)...

I'm a widower.

Wait, what?

The past three weeks have seen quite the transition in my life.  Lots of things have been rolling around in my head, and I've had to come to terms with some new things.  Lots of new questions, and not many answers.

I find myself wondering about things most people don't have to consider.  Then I find I don't know the answers.  I don't even know if there is a right or wrong answer.

My wife is physically gone from my life.  All I have left is her pictures, her memories, and the box of ashes that sits on my bookshelf for the moment.  In time, that too will be gone.  Her wish was to be scattered at sea, and I intend to honor that wish.

I continue to wear my wedding ring, and I still feel married.  I did not divorce my wife.  I did not leave my wife and she did not leave me.  She died, we are not unmarried.  So now, what is appropriate?

How long should I wear my ring?  Forever?  A year?  More?  Less?  There is not one right answer, and I know the best answer is that I will know when it's time.  But will it ever be time?

I still refer to her as my wife, and for the same reasons.  Our relationship was stronger than ever when she passed, and I don't feel like I'm any less married.  What now?  She's not my ex-wife.  I hate hearing "my late wife".  She's not late, she's gone.  My dead wife sounds even worse.  I have yet to find any term I feel is appropriate, other than "my wife".

Please understand, dear readers, that I am not looking for advice here.  I know only I can find the answers to these questions.  I am merely voicing my thoughts here to give a bit of insight to those of you who have never had a spouse pass away.

I would not wish this upon my worst enemy...

Of Men and Boys...

A man doesn't run away when he hears the words "stage IV cancer".

A man is not afraid to wear pink.

A man will hold his wife's purse and doesn't give a tinker's damn what anybody else thinks.

A man will hold his wife's hair while she pukes her guts up.

A man will brush her hair to make her feel better after puking.

A man will love her even when all her hair falls out.

I have heard of many "men" recently who have left their significant other when faced with her cancer diagnosis, and I just don't get it.  How can you claim to love someone, then leave when she is facing the most difficult time of her life?

Yes, it IS difficult to live with someone who is dealing with cancer, chemotherapy, pain, nausea and myriad other health effects all day, every day.  But that's what you signed up for when you said "I do".

And don't give me the line about "I wouldn't expect her to hang around if I had cancer."

Bullshit.

If you can't be troubled to comfort your wife and support her through her treatment until she is either healthy again, or God forbid, gone...

You are not allowed to call yourself a man.

Man card revoked...

The Post I Don't Want to Write...

I am not ready to write this.

I will never be ready.

On September 30th, my lovely Mrs. Smith was taken forcibly from me by the cancer that had invaded her body at intervals during the past three plus years.

I hate cancer.  Cancer is an evil that comes from within. 

Mrs. Smith fought valiantly, even when she was tired of fighting.  She was determined to not let it get her.  She kept her chin up, and her shoulders squared.  She fought right up to her final breath.

I have seen dead and dying people before, and death does not bother me. 

But to be there with her...

To have her look deeply into my eyes, become calm and peaceful, and take her final breath while I knelt at her bedside and held her hand...

To know I was the last thing she saw in this life...

I ache to have her back, to hold her and feel her warmth, to feel her lips against mine...

But I know it can never be.

I mourn for her every minute of every day.

My light has been extinguished.

Normal is gone.

Now I must rally with my family and my boys, and we must build a new normal.  We must move forward with our lives.  To fail to do so would be a dishonor to the memory of the mother, sister and wife who meant so much to us all.

I cannot say she is in a better place, because the best of all places is here at home with her family.  I must take comfort in the knowledge she is no longer in the constant pain that has wracked her body for several years.

I am grateful for the memories.

I have no doubt she knew exactly how I felt about her.  Nothing was ever left unsaid between us.

She will own my heart for eternity.  It is broken, but it will heal.

If there is anything after this life, I hope she finds a warm place to dive and saves a tank for me. It will be a while, but I'll join her there eventually.

Rest easy, love.

You have found peace.

We'll handle it from here...

No Class...

I had to go to our local high school recently for a fight call. While we were all sitting on the school after the fight to ensure the standard follow-up fights didn't happen, a homeboy walked out of the school, looked at the police cars and laughed.

Six cop cars in front of your high school is really funny isn't it. Certainly it is not a reflection on the shitty students who are bussed in to "attend" your school.

Oh, wait....

You're one of them.

That's right...

Cop Signs

I'm not big on working stop signs, but there is one stop sign in town I absolutely enjoy working.

I call it the COP sign.

The stop sign in question is one of four at this particular four way intersection.  Yes, that means it's a four way stop.

I can sit there in plain sight and stop car after car as they drive right through the stop sign at 10 MPH.  Unless they see me.  If they look left and see me sitting there they will jam on the binders and skid halfway through the crosswalk.

Cars at this intersection don't stop for the stop sign.  They stop for the cop.

Hence, the cop sign...

Going Through a Phase...

Being a cop is something akin to the transition from childhood to adulthood.  We all go through phases in life, and in our career.

When you're a fresh, new boot you realize you know absolutely nothing about being a cop. Every day your FTO makes that more and more clear. You go out into the big, scary world where people are trying to hurt you, and you do your best to learn everything you can.  You have to start out by crawling, and eventually you'll be able to grasp something and pull yourself up to stand.

Once you have about a year or two on the job, you start to feel like you've got a handle on this job. You've become more confident in your abilities. You seek out more learning and keep trying to improve. You probably call your sergeant or another officer almost daily to ask about the finer points of handling a particular situation.  You're walking on your own now, but you still need someone to provide for you and change the occasional diaper when you shit yourself.  Sergeants, parents, take your pick.

At about the five year mark you start to think you know it all. You get over confident and nobody can tell you the way you're doing something is wrong.  Now you're a teen.  You're cocky and you know everything better than people who are senior to you.

Somewhere in the range from seven to about fifteen years, you are considered a proficient officer. You should know enough to be able to do the job without direct supervision, and without having to call on others regularly for answers. You know you're pretty good, but you start to realize you don't know it all.  Welcome to adulthood.  You are able to provide for yourself, but you know you're not perfect.  You are willing to ask questions without fear of losing face.  You know respect is earned.

After fifteen or twenty years, you really understand that you will never know everything, you can't fix everything, and there's nothing you can do about it. You will decide to either continue giving it your best and strive for the most positive outcome, or you will get dejected and give up.  Here's where you are either an old, crotchety senior citizen who hates everyone (and you should do us all a favor and just retire), or you are the well seasoned adult who still continues to learn and make yourself better even with the knowledge that you will never know everything, and even though your kids (read the public) think you either know everything or nothing, depending upon which better suits their needs at the moment.

I, fortunately, have not yet reached the senile old fart stage...

The American Internet Bar Association...

I enjoy it when my defendants come in to traffic court after thoroughly researching their violations on the internet. It makes for some very entertaining argument on their part.

Usually a defendant will pull a legal term out of their.... errm.... "hat".... and proceed to use it in their defense.  Unfortunately, for them at least, they usually have no clue about the true definition of their chosen term.

A few recent examples...

Entrapment

"Well, you see your honor, the officer was hiding and he can't do that.  That's entrapment! The officer has to be in plain sight when he is looking for speeders.  I have this printout of a web page from North Carolina that says he has to be distinctive..."

For those who are not aware, entrapment is when a police officer entices you to do something illegal, then arrests you for it.  Last I checked, my hiding behind a car while you drive like an idiot does not equate to entrapment.

Discovery

"Your honor, I move to have this case dismissed on the grounds that the officer did not provide me with discovery of his evidence" (Yes, those were her exact words).  When asked by the judge exactly what "discovery" she was referring to, she said this...  "The officer didn't show me the LIDAR, or a print out of my speed, or a picture of my car so you have to dismiss the citation."

There are many books, websites and other "resources" out there that claim to inform drivers how to "get out of your traffic ticket".  I have read many of them myself in an effort to prepare for the lame-assed defenses I will hear in court.

The publishers of said "resources" are not interested in whether or not you win your case.  Their sole purpose in life is to make a quick buck off you.

That's on top of the fine you're going to pay when you're found guilty...

Liar, Liar, Pants on... Wait, I Think I Already Used That Title...

It would appear that I have neglected my poor blog since before Christmas.  I suppose that would be what happens when I'm paying attention to other aspects of life.

Anywho, let's talk about a scenario.  This is all purely hypothetical, I assure you.

So, let's say, for instance, that you are driving your car on a public roadway in the "wonderful" State of California.  Let's also, still hypothetically of course, say you happen to have your cell phone in your hand, and you're tapping frantically at the screen.

Are you with me so far?

Now, let's imagine that a local copper rides up to the right side of your car and watches through your right rear window, from about 7 feet away (give or take a foot or two), as you continue to tap merrily away on the cell phone screen.  The officer can clearly see the keyboard you are tapping on.  In fact, from that distance the officer can actually see the characters appearing on the screen as you type.

Suppose, now, that the officer watches as you tap approximately 150 characters into your phone.

When the officer pulls you over and explains that he is stopping you for a violation of the texting law because he just sat seven feet away from your driver seat and watched you tap a hundred plus times on your cell phone keyboard, why should it even occur to you that it would be a good idea to lie about it and say "I was only checking the time.  I'm late for work"?

Also, why would you think the officer should not have been looking in your window to see the violation in the first place?

I'm thoroughly confused, hypothetically of course.

Comments.

Go...

Blah, Blah, Blah...

Just a quick note to the fuck-knuckle I stopped for speeding today...

You can tell me you hope bad things befall me.  You can call me all the names you want.  That is a wonderful aspect of our United States Constitution.  It allows you to be as big of a loud-mouthed asshole as you choose to be.  As long as you don't make threats or try to incite a fight, you can talk all damned day.

The key here is, if I can't convince you intellectually to accept responsibility for your mistake, whether because you choose not to or you're unable, I will see to it that you take fiscal responsibility.

Either way, you're going to have to deal with your error.

I couldn't care less what nastiness you fling at me...

Keep Your Hands out of Your Pockets...

I don't understand why people get so bent out of shape when I ask them to keep their hands out of their pockets.

I always get responses like "I ain't got nothin'", "Why?" or "Whatchu think I'm gonna do?"

I don't ask folks to keep their hands out of their pockets just for shits and giggles. I ask it because I haven't searched them and have no idea what they may have in their pockets.  I ask this simple task for my safety and theirs.

I don't ask some people and not others. I ask everyone to keep their hands out of their pockets until I have at least patted them down. I don't care if you're wearing your baggy jeans down around your ass, or you're wearing a three piece suit.

I know not who you are, what you're thinking or what you're capable of.  Therefore, I ask you to...

Keep your damned hands out of your pockets...

On Life...

I know I am fortunate to have the things I do.  I have my wife and my family.  I have a roof over my head, and food on my table.  I am able to clothe my kids.  I have the job I always wanted.  I am living the dream.

Even though I ramble on about how people irk me by their ignorance, I am not a negative person.  Even though I sound like a grouch on this blog, that is not the only side of me.  It's just the side of me that tends to come out here.

So, don't think you know me just by what you read here.  This is only one small part of my life.  Remember that before you comment negatively on any of my posts.  Remember that before you make assumptions about me.

This blog does not define my life.

I appreciate those of you who have bothered to read this blog for as long as you have, and I hope you will continue to read even though my writings have become a little, how you say, "infrequent".

For those of you I have had the privilege of meeting in real life, I am grateful.  To those I have "met" only on Facebook or through email, I look forward to actually meeting face to face someday.  You know who you are.

To those who have found my writings insulting, irrelevant or otherwise useless, well, you're probably not reading this now, are you.  That's your loss.

Above all, I ask you to keep an open mind.  Always seek knowledge and new challenges.  If you see something that you disagree with (be it here or anywhere else), ask about it.  Discuss it.  Research it.  Don't just dismiss it as bullshit because you don't agree.   Learn from it.

Be good to each other.  Even though I deal with the dregs of society, I know people, in general, are mostly good, upstanding, law abiding folks.  I recognize that.  I know it's only a very vocal few who screw things up for the rest of us.

Enjoy life.  Relish it.  Live it to it's fullest.

You never know when it might leave you...

On Retirement...

It really frosts me when people attack my retirement system.  Just because not everyone has as good of a retirement system as we do, it does not mean we are crooks, thieves, greedy or any of the other derogatory terms people throw around to describe public servants.

We do a job most people are unable or unwilling to do, and we make far less than folks who sit behind a desk all day in those glass towers in the big city.  We work our asses off to protect you, the citizens of our jurisdictions.  We go out every day and put ourselves in harms way to do things the members of the common populace are unable or unwilling to do for themselves.  We do jobs most do not want to do.

We ride around with a big target on our backs simply because of the badge on our chest.  We are automatically a target to some, because we have sworn to protect the many.  We have to deal on a daily basis with people "motherfucking" us because they are not happy with what we're telling them, and we have to do so without ripping their heads off.  We go into the messy crime scenes that would make most people puke.

I am DAMNED thankful for the paycheck I get every two weeks, and the health coverage I have because I could be bothered to take on full-time, gainful employment.

If we are fortunate enough to make it to retirement age, we have earned every red cent of what we get.  If you want to attack someone for their retirement system, why not start with your legislators or the top executives who get bonuses even when their company burns down a neighborhood.

Leave my retirement out of it...