Search This Blog

Monday, February 27, 2012

Why I Hate Cops (But Not All Cops)

I don't hate all cops -- let me just say that first, because I don't want the cops to come to my house, shoot me in the face, then drop a "ham sandwich" on me.  A "ham sandwich," for those of you who don't know, is what the New Orleans police call an untraceable weapon they use to plant on suspects after they shoot them.  You know, because you can't go around talking about planting firearms on dead people outright ... it might raise a few eyebrows.

All cops don't do things like that.  The reason, I think, that so many people hate cops isn't necessarily because the really bad ones go around doing murders or planting evidence.  It's because a lot of cops go around with the attitude that since they have to endure a lot of bad attitude from the public, they want to show how much they despise the public and also let the public know that they won't tolerate being despised.  It's understandable.  Being a cop is a terrible, terrible job ... one full of thankless tasks, an often rude and distrusting public, disrespectful in many ways.  And so many cops often feel it necessary to mirror the public's loathing.

It's a terrible and vicious cycle.

I came home one evening months ago after getting a huge amount of really nasty fried chicken that I sat down and devoured like a maniac in one sitting.  A loud banging on my door commenced just as I was taking some Pepto Bismol, and when I opened the door a cop was standing just off my front porch, commanding me to come outside.  I immediately stepped out and said good evening, and he proceeded to interrogate me, saying that someone had heard gunshots fired on my property about five minutes prior to his arrival.  Now, certainly, if someone did indeed report such an event, the police were certainly justified in making an investigation.  I told the officer there had been no shots fired, gave him my driver's license, and told him that although I owned firearms, I hadn't discharged them on my property.  He asked me why I had a flashlight on my neck.

At this point, you may yourself be wondering why I had a flashlight on my neck.  Well, go fuck yourself; it's none of your business -- okay, that was harsh.  I apologize.  But it really isn't any of your business.  Okay, I'll tell you, anyway.  There was a flashlight (the kind you can wear on your head, the kind they sell in sporting goods stores) because I owned it, I was on my property, I am an American citizen ... and my porch light was out and I had taken out the garbage.  As he was smirking, I told him I had taken out the garbage and had needed the light because the porch light was out and it had been getting dark.

He saw that there was a security camera in my window, so he asked me why I was filming him.  (He seemed rather paranoid to me at this point).  I told him, "For security."  He actually snickered right in my face, on my property, after having commanded me out of my own house, which is probably departmental policy, for officer safety (the commanding me out of my house part, not the snickering).  I couldn't fucking believe that a cop would come to my house, accuse me of firing weapons on my property, and actually have the huevos to smirk and snicker as he interrogated me about my personal accutrements, but I completely kept my calm and remained polite.

When he was finished with his Colombo-style investigation, he started to leave after having told me he would return.  I told him to have a good evening (not showing any of the snideness that he had so pointedly shown me), and he responded without any departing salutation and instead repeated that he would be back (presumably like Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator).  I said again, "Have a good evening," and he responded with a very emphatic, "We'll be back."  So I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Alright ... have a good evening."  And of course he repeated his prior declarative.  I decided that he was a fucking twat, and that I would just go back into my house, because obviously he had been raised by some kind of tribe of warlock savages and didn't know how to respond to a courteous salutation.

This isn't the only instance of Rude Cop I've ever experienced.  I try not to ever talk to cops.  And I know that's wrong, because they're just doing a job that has to be done.  I feel sorry for all the cops out there that aren't on steroids and feeding off the hate of the public, cops who just want to protect the public without inciting a hatred for their authority.  But I hate all the cops out there who do feed off the hate of the public.  The cops who carry "ham sandwiches," the cops who think another cop is a snitch if the "snitch" reports a bad cop.  I hate them.  And I hate cops who think that the public deserves no courtesy but only intimidation or interrogation.  I truly despise them.  And I hope their hatred destroys them and that my own hatred doesn't destroy me.

I think I'll be alright with my hatred, though.  Unless one day a cop offers me a ham sandwich.

No comments:

Post a Comment