/ Social Order / HierCon / Cop Stories /
@ K. 1998 05
A life time of police
|It would surprise no independent observer if the motto, In God we trust, were one day expunged from the coins of the republic by the Junkers at Washington, and the far more appropriate word, Verboten, substituted. Nor would it astound any save the most romantic if, at the same time, the goddess of liberty were taken off the silver dollars to make room for a bas relief of a policeman in a spiked helmet.||H. L. Mencken|
Rodney King, LA beating
A policeman is someone who writes your name down
after you’ve been robbed.
If it were just gypsies, Jews, n-s … who’d care? But this girl got knocked down just for being there.
We see that cute crotch, and we care, plenty.
[Bowdlerizing K., 2016 08 03 Offensive terms go dosido in fashion.]
Vancouver Cold Comfort
Here’s a quick account of my first encounter with a cop:
I doubt that I was as old as ten. Ah, but I’d crossed Lakeview Avenue to go to the store. The store was situated near the railroad tracks: a different world. I’m on my way back, dopey little me, walking along the sidewalk, my mind God only knows where. I hear a spray of gravel. I feel the slur of something huge. Suddenly I’m lifted off the ground. Pinned against a tree.
“OK, where are they? Where are you hiding them?” Rough hands are going through my pockets.
“Your firecrackers. Where are your firecrackers? They’re illegal.”
Later I learned that it was the 4th or Halloween or some other loud holiday. Aside from seeing the displays at Jones Beach as part of family outings, I didn’t even know what firecrackers were. Later I learned that that particular cop did that to all the kids he found near the tracks, giving the booty to his own son.
That encounter may have been unusual for the “white” son of a lawyer living in the world’s richest (at that time) banking community. Then again, I hadn’t been near the tracks: I’d been almost back to Lakeview Avenue. Maybe the cop had a Nixonian self-destructiveness. Maybe he was really stupid. How long he stayed on the force I don’t know: I never saw him again.
Knatz.com’s cop stories section followed that story with others that I’ll now read in below. A dozen such cop stories exhausted my energy for that session. My data base for such stories has hundreds more queued up. I’ll probably wind up stringing posts together so that none gets too unwieldy. The list is only a beginning until I get to my arrest in 2006 the FBI ganging up with the sheriff’s men to take down this impoverished old man.
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