Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...







Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Wake Up, Fools!

Here is a list of some pet peeves. Why? Because. I felt like sharing. You're welcome!

1. I really hate the fact that Soros is funding all these DA positions all over the United States in a way for him to "reshape the justice system" according to his liking. I mean, not only do I hate it, but it scares me to death. That man is really, really dangerous. People don't think so, but money can really buy you things. Some things are dangerous. What does that mean? Something nefarious, no doubt.  Cops will fry. I'm sure it includes burning all officers at the stake. You should pay attention to this. Wake up, fools! Not you. The other guys. You should sleep with one eye open. Why? Watch his reformative justice take over sentencing parameters and people will nary go to jail. Why? Because if we hold their hands, they won't be so bad. Now, I think restorative justice is necessary, but you need to do it wisely and those who do really bad should do their just time and not be slapped on the wrist.


2. I can't stand the liberal agenda on wolves. They spread lies. And many of them are in nice articles of peace in the high country and pat ourselves on the back type of shit. People believe them because they don't know what is really going on there, so they are spoon fed propaganda which they absorb as the truth. It's bullshit. Happy park. Happy animals. My ass. If you really want to know what is going on in the west, you should live there or shut thy mouth. The wolves are out of control. Herds of wild life and livestock are devastated every year. Wake up, fools! Yeah. I said it. I am mean like that. Not you. The other people.

3. Assholes. I know too many. I wish there was a shampoo to wash them away like flea and tick stuff. Or something.

4. The news. It sucks. Everywhere.

5. The perma frown on my forehead. It's making perma wrinkles. Gah.

6. I don't like being forced to live where I don't really want to live. I want to retreat to a high mountain area where I can shoot wolves and make a coat. Not really. That was just funny as hell, though.

7. I hate one of my classes right now. I am getting bad grades and I think my professor hates me too. It's sad really. I am a very nice and good student. Sigh.

8. I can't stand mouthy kids or disrespectful kids. I don't know how to change it. The parents are way messed up these days. That includes me. Our generation failed America. True story. We did it. Now we are griping about it. Ironic much?

That's enough today. Oh, yes. There is more. Most times I am pretty laid back but today I am pissy like a cat.

I know. I'm whining.

Sorry.

I will go now.

Friday, May 19, 2017

And the Ghetto cried...Hey Cop!


As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto (in the ghetto)
And his mama cries


We went predator hunting one day. Sex Offender Registry. Address Checks. Banjos Playing.

We checked 43 of them. Beat me. No wait, not in those words, they just sound naughty.

Anypervert, we checked about 20 when we ran into two very well built strapping handsome 30 year olds in the middle of a rundown part of town who stopped us at our patrol car.



JIM GYM: Officers, could you help us with this Nebraska citation I got for no proof of insurance?

PUNKY BREWSTER: Nope. We don't mess with out of state things.

ME: [whack to Punky's left arm] What can we help you with, sir?

JIM GYM: I'm afraid I'm late on this fix it ticket.

ME: We better run you for warrants, then.

JIM GYM: [hesitant] Well...

ME: You aren't going to run, are ya? Cuz, you looked like you were going to run.

JIM GYM: No.

EXERCISE EDDY: Oh, he  thought about it.

ME: I'll give ya a 7 foot head start.

EXERCISE EDDY: Taser. [laughing]

JIM GYM: Oh hell no.

ME: Come on. We need the training.
I miss my Punky Brewster. 


So...we listened to their horror popo story of getting pulled over in Nebraska, then ran both of them because they wanted to make sure Nebraska didn't have any warrants for them. They were college grads working on their master's degrees. Seems the oil company they interned with had provided them housing and they monitored gas drilling every day for their studies. They were clean cut, went to the gym as much as they could, and appeared to be very nice, seemingly normal men.

ME: So...what are you two doing living in the hood? Seems like you don't belong here. It's like Sesame Street puzzles...one thing doesn't look like the other.

EXERCISE EDDY: Yeah. We got the shaft from our company. Put us up in the ghetto. We shut ourselves inside and lock everything up every day.

ME: Nice. Well, have a nice day. OH. I almost forgot. The Boogie Man lives next door to you, so be careful.

EXERCISE EDDY: [points to a neighbor house] Harrold?

ME: If that is what he calls himself these days. [It was a random popo scare tactic, I just made it up. I don't even know if Harrold or any of their other neighbors were the Boogie Man] Have a great day.

JIM GYM: Thanks.[weak smile]

Punky and I got into the car and I looked over the list of sex offenders.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Now there were two nice looking ones for you to date.

ME: Moving on with the perverts. [looking at my list]

PUNKY BREWSTER: [sigh] I can't wait to tell the boss I found two nice good looking men for you and you looked down at the sex offender list and said, "moving on with the perverts "

ME: Yep.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Have you noticed today all the sex offenders answer the door without shirts on.

ME: Yep. It's disgusting. Lots of moobs out today.





We made a citizen contact on the street. Punky and I thought the contact was very disturbing and it made us contemplate things later in life...like how your tattoos look when you are old. I told her I wouldn't care about my tats at that age. However, plastic surgery was another thing. The citizen contact really made me do a double take on any aspirations of plastic surgery I might have had.

PUNKY: That freaked me out.

ME: Me, too. They were like all up in my face, pointing at me.

PUNKY: Ew. What am I going to do?

ME: Well, I can tell you one thing, I am not going to be your friend when you are 70. I don't need anything all up in my face when I try to wipe the drool off your chin.

PUNKY:  That was disturbing.

ME: Yes. I might have nightmares.

So...we met a 70 year old woman who didn't wear a bra. She didn't have to. She was perky. A size double D and perky at 70. Fake boobs. It was scary. I wish I had pics to share of this old woman with perky boobs, but it was too traumatizing. Just picture it. Or don't. Oy.

It was dark with no street lights. We were later assigned to foot patrol in the trailerhood. All of a sudden, a dark Suburban with limo tinted windows jumped the curb and stopped at my feet...and my gun... drawn ready to shoot the drunk idiot that tried to run me over. As we aimed for the window that was rolling down, we  were greeted with a site.

It was someone from Montana we did not know who apparently liked to get right up in the popo's face to ask a question. Or perhaps the person had a death wish. I don't know. He might have peed himself at the sight of our Glocks. Our show of force was quickly deflated as we were just looking at an idiot that had no regard for personal space or officer safety. If he had been anywhere else, he would have been toast.

Anyfreakshow, the driver wanted to ask about the safety of our ghetto as several officers had been noticed in the area. The driver's bling was bedazzling us along with the long black shiny hair, bright red lipstick, and long fingernails....and very large bosoms. We weren't looking there, they just appeared in our faces. I then was asked a barrage of questions regarding my hair and makeup choices and asked some tips. The driver departed after blowing us kisses and thanking us for our time.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Was that a drag queen?

ME: Yep. Never seen him around here, must be a new one.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Huh. He's something else. Crazy.

ME: It's the ghetto. Isn't it great? We didn't even have to shoot anyone, just exchanged makeup tips.

PUNKY BREWSTER: Yeah. That's what scares me. We almost got killed  over makeup tips.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Down At The Porn Shop

Check out the local news for the latest on the CPD shakeup. It's getting quite dramatic over there. 

Another night assigned to the ghetto. I think LIFE is just bliss. The encounters were "gihugenormous" fun as THE ROOK would say.


No sooner had we turned the corner of the PORN SHOP when we were flagged down. It just so happened to be to the parking lot of the PORN SHOP. There stood a man who resembled Carrot Top only without the fro. He was holding a hanger.

As I exited the patrol car, I tried to wipe off the smirk on my face with no avail. I think it is just natural to smirk when you arrive at a porn shop. The calls are always interesting and we proceed with caution. First rule of thumb-DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. My rookie mostly remained silent. I could sense he was not too keen on being there or maybe he wasn't too keen on what we were going to have to do there.  Maybe it was just the idea of him being at the porn shop. It was dirty. Shame. Embarrassment. Some people frown upon those establishments. To me, it was pure entertainment. It was a time for him to observe his FTO.

ME: What can we help you with?

RED RIDER: Could you unlock my car?

ME: We aren't allowed to do that anymore. I'm sorry. Can I call a locksmith for you?

RED RIDER: Sure.

By now, he was shuffling his feet and a little embarrassed. We called for a locksmith real loud on the radio and made sure we announced the PORN SHOP on the radio rather than the street address for the troops to giggle about and get a little free entertainment.

ME: You aren't from around here?

RED RIDER: No. Live about 160 miles east.

ME: Heavens to Mergatroid! You drove 160 miles to go to the PORN SHOP?
[
RED RIDER: No. I came here for counseling.

ME: Most people just say it like it is. Down here in the hood, no one cares you go to the PORN SHOP. You sure don't have to refer to it as "counseling."

RED RIDER: No. I mean real counseling.

ME: Yeah. What I'm sayin'.

PUNKY BREWSTER: [whacks me] He means psychologist counseling.

ME: Oh. Really? You came all that way for a mental health appointment?

RED RIDER: Yep. We don't have much at home. Two of them.

ME: I suppose you are related to them.

RED RIDER: No. Why?

ME: Well, you are close to Nebraska. Small town.

PUNKY BREWSTER: [whacks me on the arm] Locksmith is here.

ME: Hi. Thanks for getting here so quickly.

LOCKSMITH LARRY: What happened here? Got a little quick to get out and lock your keys in?

RED RIDER: Yeah.

LOCKSMITH LARRY: Get a little excited, did ya?

RED RIDER: *blink*blink*