Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Get Off

When it comes to driving onto the interstate in Cynicalville, there are two types of drivers who deserve public exposure and humiliation.

One type stays in the on-ramp lane until the very end, terrified to move left into the flow of traffic until it's absolutely necessary. By the time the on-ramp lane runs out, they've accelerated to about 30 miles per hour. Then, they they are forced move into the traffic flow (although I have seen a few that actually continue in the emergency lane), causing normal people to either dynamite their brakes or veer left to avoid slamming into the rear of the terrified driver. These people are clearly horrified at the idea of traveling above the speed of a Conestoga wagon. Why they are on the interstate in the first place is a mystery. Surface roads were made for these people, and they should be banished from any throughway with a speed limit higher than 25.

The second type has no problem accelerating up to speed. But then, they just barge left into traffic, assuming people will get out of their way. The word "merge" has no meaning to these idiots. They are oblivious to the fact that it is their duty to merge, and not the duty of everyone else to get out of their way. I've actually had people honk their horn in indignation because I was traveling in the far right lane, and refused to change lanes to allow them to move into traffic at the exact spot they've deemed belongs to them. These types need to be struck across the brow with a "MERGE" sign until they sign a document acknowledging they are not the only people on the road.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Danger, Will Robinson!

I'm exiting a convenience store, where I've just refilled the coffee cup. Before I can get out the door, a woman stops me. I immediately recognize the unmistakable signs that she is someone trying out for a role in a science fiction move. She has a constant look of surprise on her face, and it appears she has been experimenting with industrial-strength stage makeup, including painted-on eyebrows the size and shape of the St. Louis Gateway Arches.

Ms. Gollygee: "What was that cop car doing on the sidewalk?"

Officer Cynical: "Excuse me?"

Ms. Gollygee: "You know those new Dodge Charger cop cars? One of them was on the sidewalk."

Officer Cynical: "You mean just sitting there, like maybe running radar?"

Ms. Gollygee: "No. Driving down the sidewalk."

Officer Cynical: "And where was this?"

Ms. Gollygee: "I was downtown a little while ago, and I was walking by the cop building, and one of those new cop cars was driving right down the middle of the sidewalk."

Officer Cynical: "Um, OK. Well, this is the first I've heard about it."

Ms. Gollygee: "Wow, when I saw that cop car coming at me on the sidewalk, it really freaked me out."

Officer Cynical: "Yes, I can see that."

Monday, September 29, 2014

What I Learned From Reno 911 - #1

1. Call a local pizza delivery place and order a large pizza.

2. Give them the address of where your squad car is parked.

3. Tell them there's an extra $20 in it if the delivery guy gets there in less than 10 minutes.

4. Clock the delivery guy's car by radar as he comes barreling down the street.

5. Give the delivery guy a speeding ticket, and confiscate the pizza as evidence.

Friday, September 26, 2014

We go to a house where there's supposedly a guy with a felony warrant inside. We can't get anyone to come to the door, so we go next door and talk to the elderly lady who owns the house. It turns out she rents the place to the guy we're looking for. She calls him on the phone:

Miss Gulch: (screaming into phone): "Rowan? The police are down here looking for you! Are you upstairs? (pause) Well, then you get down here right now and talk to them, or you're going to be in big trouble!"

When we stop laughing, we go back to the house and a guy comes to the door.

Officer Cynical: "What's your name?"

Mr. Bean: "Rowan. But not the Rowan you're looking for."

Officer Cynical: "Really? What's your last name?"

Mr. Bean: "Bean."

Officer Cynical: "Oh. Well, actually you are the Rowan we're looking for, so you're under arrest."

Mr. Bean: "But I'm not that Rowan Bean!"

Thursday, September 25, 2014

I'll Get Right On That

I got a call today for a "vehicle break-in". When I got there, the guy took me to his SUV parked in the alley next to his house. He said someone had gotten into his unlocked car earlier that day - in broad daylight - and stole his work gloves. The thief supposedly ignored the expensive tools, the checkbook, the credit cards, and numerous other items of value, and stole his crappy old $1.98 cotton work gloves. He said there was no chance he misplaced them; they were definitely stolen.

I just stood there in the pouring rain, smiling and nodding, and listening to this guy tell me all about his gloves and that he was SURE he left them in there and he couldn't understand why anyone would just take the gloves and leave all that other spendy stuff.

They wouldn't, sir. They wouldn't.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Say, Go, Like

No one "says" anything anymore. They "go" it or they "like" it. To wit:

Officer Cynical: "So, what are you two fighting about?"

Suspect 1: "I was minding my own business when he walks up to me and goes, 'Hey, I want that money you owe me.' And I go, 'I don't owe you any money!' And he goes, 'Like hell you don't!'. And then he pushed me."

Suspect 2: "That's bullshit. I was minding my own business when he walks up to me and is like, 'I heard you were dissing me to my girlfriend.' And I'm like, 'I never said nothing to your girlfriend'. And he's like, 'Well, she said you did.' And then he shoved me.

Officer Cynical: "Well, let's act like adults and don't go or like at one another anymore, OK?"


Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Don't Spit Into the Wind

Pepper spray is a less-than-lethal force option invented by someone who hates cops. I refuse to use it except in the most dire circumstances, and some guys I know don't even carry it anymore.

Pepper spray is more correctly called OC spray. OC stands for oleoresin Capsicum. Capsicum is a genus of hot peppers, including chilis, jalapenos, and habaneros. The active ingredient in OC is capsaicin. The effect of capsaicin is the spontaneous combustion of your face, and the incineration of your eyeballs, nasal passages, sinuses, throat, and anything attached to them. I've been sprayed numerous time in training, and it really, really sucks. Moreover, after you think it's finally worn off, often it will come back to visit hours later when exposed to water (e.g., in the shower), or if you don't wash you hands well and rub your eyes.

The OC we carry looks something like this:

Spray is a misnomer. OC actually travels in a narrow stream up to about 20 feet. Here is one poor unfortunate who didn't take well to getting sprayed:

Pepper spray can be aimed somewhat accurately under ideal conditions, which never exist. When you deploy pepper spray, you are guaranteed one of the following outcomes:

- guy is so close (e.g., in a headlock) stream splashes off him into your own face.
- guy is so far away he dodges the stream.
- wind blows stream away from guy's face.
- wind blows stream into your partner's face.
- wind blows stream back into your own face.
- stream misses guy and hits your partner who is correctly positioned on other side of guy.
- you get good hit, but wind up wrestling with guy and the fumes almost kill you.

In any event, you can be guaranteed that your use of pepper spray will always piss off at least one person other than the one you're trying to spray.