911, Emergency!

Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains: Macroinformation.org &
Knatz.com / Teaching / Society / Social Order / HierCon / Cops /

Help! Police!

Mid-thirties. I’m running FLEX from my apartment on Riverside Drive at 103rd Street. Angus and I are coming up out of the park after a run. I see some turd jimmying the butterfly window of a VW Beetle on the park side of the drive. I walk casually to a pay phone, making sure Angus follows. I dial 911. 911 is relatively new. It’s my first such call.

“Pólees.”
“There’s a guy breaking into a VW Beetle on Riverside & 103rd.”
“Qué?”
“A burglar. He’s using a switchblade to jimmy the window open. He’s hasn’t gotten in yet. Riverside Drive and 103rd.”
Jabber, jabber.

I’d picked up a little Spanish interviewing Cubans for the Army during the Cuban missile crisis. But I hadn’t a clue what this woman was saying.

It seemed mutual on her side. She hung up on me.

Switchblade
thanx rapgenius

I wouldn’t have cared if her native tongue had been Martian. I was all for creating “jobs” for the universally incompetent. But not in public service. She should have understood English: certainly the English of a college English teacher whose voice coeds swooned for.

Cop Stories

About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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