Everyone

I’m having trouble finding the “Everyone else is doing it” defense in the statue.  At the risk of sounding like my mom; if everyone else jumped off a…oh, never mind.  You probably would.  You’re right though; you’re not the only person doing it.  And though once I managed to pull over three cars at the same time, I’ve never been able to stop EVERYONE.  I wasn’t able to stop everyone this time either.  I was able to stop one car.  I was able to stop you.  So here we are. 

You and me. 

No one else. 

Feel free to take me to court; everyone else does.

Under

Guess what? The law allows me to do things while I’m driving that it doesn’t allow you.
I’m allowed to:

-drive over the speed limit.
-disregard a stop sign.
-proceed through an intersection against a red light.
-force another driver to stop their car.
-use an ear-piercing siren.
-block traffic.
-park in a no-parking zone.
-and…

wait for it…

wait for it…

TALK ON A CELL PHONE.

Yes. I’m allowed to talk on a cell phone while I’m driving and you’re not. Why is that so hard for you to understand (that and the parking in a no-parking zone thing)? This doesn’t make me above the law. The law allows for it. That makes it under the law. I’m under the law. I get to do things you don’t. Deal with it.

Check

Let me just make sure I’ve got everything I need for my shift:

Car keys – check
Notebook – check
Gun – check
Radio – check
Diapers – check
Grimm’s Fairy Tales – check
Pretend mean face – check

Now what did I do with my English to Delinquent Teenage Punk dictionary? Found it; check.

Looks like I’m ready to make sure your child __________________.

– goes to school
– stays at school
– comes home from school
– doesn’t smoke
– doesn’t sass you
– does their homework
– goes to bed at a reasonable hour

If there’s anything else I can do to lighten your parental responsibility load just let me know. It’s nice to take a break from my mental health counselor role once in a while.

Almost forgot my stickers – check

Signature

One of the underlying goals when committing a crime is to keep from getting caught. It’s a basic tenet of the trade. This can be accomplished a number of ways.

Rule #1. Don’t let anyone see you commit the crime.
Rule #2. If people are going to see you, don’t let them recognize you.
Rule #3. If people are going to see you and recognize you, have a good hiding place.
Rule #4. If people are going to see you and recognize, and you aren’t going to hide, be a badass.

If you’re going to try to stick with rules #1 and #2, there’s an addendum; don’t leave behind evidence that can tie you to the crime. Don’t leave fingerprints on the doorknob. Don’t leave your license plate embedded in the tree. Don’t leave your ID with the bank teller. And whatever you do, don’t leave a signature. Just ask the Wet Bandits how that turned out for them. Is there a way to violate all of the rules, and the addendum, in one fell swoop? Yep.

A. Create a signature before you even commit the crime. Literally a signature. In this case your nickname, that everyone knows. Make sure it’s unique so it stands out.
B. Walk around town spraypainting that signature on every flat surface you can find; fences, walls, junction boxes, street signs, lamps, doors, and US post office mailboxes.
C. Make sure to continue to do this during daylight hours, on busy streets, when people are driving to work.
D. Try to run into a closed mall when the police find you.
E. Give up and fall on the ground when you know you’re caught.

At least the Wet Bandits could blame Kevin.

Tardy

Q: How long did you wait before you reported your friend as a missing person?
A: 10 minutes

Q: Do you know what my wife considers 10 minutes late?
A: 20 minutes early

Q: Guess what I know you didn’t do since you decided your friend was in mortal danger?
A: Look for them.

One of the cool things about being an adult is you’re allowed to be missing if you want. If your husband wants to stop by the local artistic dance establishment instead of coming home to listen to you talk about how he never takes you anywhere nice then he’s allowed to do that without telling you. If your wife wants to spend the weekend at her cousin’s best friend’s house becuase she’s had enough of you drinking a 12 pack of Natty Ice and slapping her around after she didn’t fix your dinner on time then she’s allowed to do that without telling you. It’s not like I can activate your friend’s implant and traingulate her position within a three foot radius. The best I would be able to do is search in places you think this person might be and…wait for it…wait for it…YOU SHOULD HAVE ALREADY LOOKED THERE. They aren’t missing. They’re late. I’m sure they’ll have a fantastic excuse for their tardiness.

Presumption

What’s this soap box doing here?

Presumption of innocence, otherwise known as innocent until proven guilty, is only relevant in one place; the courtroom.  It doesn’t apply to the local news.  It doesn’t apply to your neighbors.  It doesn’t apply to a national sports show, and it doesn’t apply to the police.

If you’re charged with a crime, and you choose to go to trial, the burden of proving your guilt rests solely on the prosecution.  Every member of the jury (or the judge) has to consider you innocent until the prosecutor proves otherwise.  If they can’t accomplish that, you’re acquitted.  The prosecution does this by presenting as much relevant information as they’re allowed, and trust me, there’s a lot of relevant information they’re not allowed to tell the jury.

A prosecutor has to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.  The cops only need to believe it’s more likely than not a crime occurred.  The news only needs to know that you were arrested.  Your neighbor only has to see your neck tattoo.

If you think people shouldn’t form an opinion before they’ve heard all of the facts you’re delusional.  You’ll never hear all of the facts.  You’re also a hypocrite.  You didn’t know all of the facts when you pointed your favorite finger toward the sky and called the driver that cut you off some choice words.  Are they rude?  Are they late for work?  Is there a woman in labor in the back seat?  Are you going to follow them to their destination and politely interview them until you know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?  No.  You’re going to form an opinion and move on.

People form opinions based on the information available to them.  I’m a bald white male with a significant amount of visible tattoos.  Girl Scouts don’t ask me to buy cookies when I walk out of Safeway.  I don’t walk around whining about being judged based on my appearance.  If your urine contains enough opiates to put down a herd of elephants then people are going to form opinions.  No one has to wait for a verdict to call you heroin addict, unless of course they’re on the jury.

There are no rules in the court of public opinion.  You’re only innocent until your pee comes back hot; then all bets are off.  Sorry.

Raise

I have an idea.  Raise your own kids.  Parenting isn’t supposed to be easy.  It takes effort.  It takes time.  It takes commitment.  Do you know what it shouldn’t take?  Cops.

Your kid staying out after curfew isn’t a police matter; it’s a parenting matter.  They aren’t missing; they’re disobedient.  Pause Desperate Housewives, put down the Dryers, put on a robe, get in the minivan, and go find them.

Your kid refusing to go to bed isn’t a police matter; it’s a parenting matter.  Under what authority do you expect me to force your child to put on their pajamas and go to sleep?  Last time I checked there wasn’t a bedtime statute.  Don’t ask me to just come over and scare them either.  That backfires when the kid grows up and doesn’t trust me.

Your kid throwing a fit because you’re watching Wheel of Fortune and they want to watch Glee isn’t a police matter; it’s a parenting matter.  Ask them how much they payed for rent.  Ask them how much they contributed toward the electric bill.  Ask them when was the last time they made there bed.  There’s no such thing as an out of control eight year old; there’s just an eight year old that’s about to be parented.

You’re the same person that tells me I should be out looking for murderers and rapists instead of harassing you for speeding.  You’re the same person that asks me if I don’t have something more important to do than stop you for expired registration.  As a matter of fact I do, but I can’t ever get to it because I’m too busy taking care of your obligations.

Raise your own kids.

Achoo

I have allergies.  If it grows, I’m allergic to it.  I’ve sneezed in eight different states, 10 differnt countries, countless cities, hundreds of sleeves, and thousands of tissues.  Sneezes have appeared out of nowhere and disappeared as fast, lingered for minutes at a time, come in threes, exited with the force of a 300 win mag, and hinted at arrival only to hide when I acknowledge their exiztence.  I’ve unintentionally created new patterns on dress shirts, misted unsuspecting neighbors, blown holes in Kleenex, knocked over lamps, and scared my children.

In all of my vast experience violently spraying unwanted particles out of my nostrils there’s one thing I’ve never done.  I’ve never accidnetally taken a wrong turn and driven against the flow of freeway traffic until I crashed head-on into someone minding their own business.  I’m sure it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Gazunteight!

Ration

I think I should get a ration of “You got what you deserved” cards that I can throw down when it’s appropriate.  I’d love to have one a shift, but I know that’s not realistic.  I even understand the argument against one a week.  But one a month seems legit.

Let’s say you call 911 because you want to report a theft.  You tell dispatch that your car was just broken into.  I show up and you tell me someone stole your GPS, purse, and laptop.  You proceed to tell me your GPS was suction cupped to the windshield, your purse was on the front seat, your laptop was in plain view, your car was parked on the street, and it was unlocked.  There’s only one week left in the month, so I promptly hand you my January “You got what you deserved” card and drive away.

Let’s say you call 911 because you want to report a burglary.  You tell dispatch someone just broke into your house and made off with your property.  I arrive and you show me how they kicked in the man-door to your garage.  You show me how they busted open the door from the garage into your kitchen.  You show me how they forced open the door from the hallway into your medical marijuana grow room.  I whip out my February “You got what you deserved” card so fast you don’t even have time to say, “Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude,” before I’m out the door.

Let’s say you call 911 because you got your ass kicked.  You tell dispatch a bunch of guys at the bar beat you up.  I show up and see that you have a chin-strap beard, over-jelled hair, uneven orange self-tanned skin, manicured nails, and enough gold chains to make Mr. T jealous.  I don’t even say a word to you before handing you March’s “You got what you deserved” card and high-five the guys responsible on the way out.

Step on the brake, Jake.  I’ll never hand this card to a woman who’s wearing a short skirt, tight blouse, yoga pants, low cut jeans, or drinking too much.  That card will stay firmly entrenched in my pocket as I do everything in my power to make you suffer.  I’ll visit you in prison and watch you slowly lower yourself onto the metal stool on the other side of the cold steel table.  I’ll watch you sit gingerly, and grimace as the weight of your body rests on your backside.  That’s when I’ll take out April’s “You got what you deserved” card and slide it across the table without saying a word, and leave.

Decision

Failing to use a signal becomes failing to stop for a red light becomes excessive speeding becomes driving buzzed becomes driving drunk becomes driving through the front door of the local Jack-in-the-Box.

 Toilet papering a house becomes egging a house becomes tagging a fence becomes keying a car becomes smashing a car window becomes breaking into a garage becomes breaking into a house becomes stabbing an 83 year old woman for a six dollar pendant.

 Sneaking some Schnapps out of the liquor cabinet becomes hiding behind the shed to smoke some weed becomes buying an unlabeled bag of Vicodin in an alley becomes slamming a booger-ball of heroin in a 7-11 parking lot at 3am and driving through a telephone pole.

 This might seem like an exaggeration, but it’s not.  Most felons don’t volunteer at the senior center one day, and extort two million dollars from their employer the next.  When small decisions go unchecked they turn into medium bad decisions, which turn into large bad decisions, which turn into enormous bad decisions, which end up hurting people; usually not the person making the bad decisions.

 This is why you’re getting a citation for making an illegal u-turn.  You’re welcome.