No......I am pretty sure a cop is the guy that wrote me a ticket for speeding and infringed upon my personnal rights as a free American.
Even though I was going 75 in a school zone there wasn't any school at the time!
And I TOLD him those beers were NOT mine...and I JUST drank mouth wash...but NOOOOOO....
PS Good post
Ten Signs Your Partner Needs A Vacation
10. Every Tuesday he insists it's his turn to be the siren.
9. He is starting to develop a crush on one of the transvestite hookers he arrested.
8. He wants to transfer to a K-9 unit because he thinks he'd look good in a collar.
7. He wants you to call him "Judge Dredd", and he insists that all suspects should be executed right there on the spot.
6. He talk to himself. Half of him is the "good cop", and the other half is the "bad cop".
5. He keeps asking you if his bullet proof vest makes him look fat.
4. He is exchanging donut recipes with complete strangers.
3. The perpetrators beg him to stop talking about his hemorrhoids.
2. He wants to hear less talk and more music on the police channel.
1. He keeps handcuffing himself by accident!!
It's so true. God bless 'em.....most of 'em.
Somehow, I can't help laughing at cops on bikes...I don't know why...I saw them at Disneyland, two male cops riding on bikes, both in shorts and I just started laughing...
God bless you
Two oldies, but goodies:
What Are Policemen Made Of?
excerpted from an article by Paul Harvey
Don't credit me with this mongrel prose. It has many parents, at least 535,000 of them policemen.
A policeman is a composite of what all men are, a mingling of saint and sinner, dust and deity.
Culled statistics wave the fan over the stinkers and underscore instances of dishonesty and brutality because they are "news". What that really means is that they are exceptional, unusual, not commonplace.
Buried under the froth is the fact - Less than one-half of one percent of policemen misfit that uniform. That's a better average than you'd find among clergymen.
What is a policeman made of? He, of all men, is at once the most needed and the most unwanted.
He's a strangely nameless creature who is "sir" to his face and "fuzz" behind his back. He must be such a diplomat that he can settle differences between individuals so that each will think he won.
But...if the policeman is neat, he's conceited. If he's careless, he's a bum. If he's pleasant, he's a flirt. If he's not, he's a grouch.
He must make in an instant decisions that would require months for a lawyer. But...if he hurries, he's careless. If he's deliberate, he's lazy.
He must be first to an accident and infallible with a diagnosis. He must be able to start breathing, stop bleeding, tie splints and, above all, be sure the victim goes home without a limp. Or expect to be sued.
The police officer must know every gun, draw on the run and hit where it doesn't hurt. He must be able to whip two men twice his size and half his age without damaging his uniform and without being "brutal". If you hit him, he's a coward. If he hits you, he's a bully.
A policeman must know everything - and not tell. He must know where all the sin is - and not partake. The policeman must, from a single human hair, be able to describe the crime, the weapon and the criminal - and tell you where the criminal is hiding.
But...if he catches the criminal, he's lucky. If he doesn't, he's a dunce. If he gets promoted, he has political pull. If he doesn't, he's a dullard.
The policeman must chase bum leads to a dead end, stake out ten nights to tag one witness who saw it happen - but refuses to remember. He runs files and writes reports until his eyes ache to build a case against some felon who'll get dealt out by a shameless shamus or an "honorable" who isn't.
The policeman must be a minister, a social worker, a diplomat, a tough guy, and a gentlemen.
And, of course, he'll have to be a genius...for he'll have to feed a family on a policeman's salary.
Sgt Friday (Jack Webb)delivers the following speech about the trials and tribulations of being a police officer to a rookie undercover officer suspected of robbing a liquor store, in and episode with Kent McCord, who later was on Adam-12.
"It's awkward having a policeman around the house. Friends drop in, a man with a badge answers the door, the temperature drops 20 degrees.
You throw a party and that badge gets in the way. All of a sudden there isn't a straight man in the crowd. Everybody's a comedian. "Don't drink too much," somebody says, "or the man with a badge'll run you in." Or "How's it going, Dick Tracy? How many jaywalkers did you pinch today?" And then there's always the one who wants to know how many apples you stole.
All at once you lost your first name. You're a cop, a flatfoot, a bull, a dick, John Law. You're the fuzz, the heat; you're poison, you're trouble, you're bad news. They call you everything, but never a policeman.
It's not much of a life, unless you don't mind missing a Dodger game because the hotshot phone rings. Unless you LIKE working Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays, at a job that doesn't pay overtime. Oh, the pay's adequate-- if you count pennies you can put your kid through college, but you better plan on seeing Europe on your television set.
And then there's your first night on the beat. When you try to arrest a drunken prostitute in a Main St. bar and she rips your new uniform to shreds. You'll buy another one-- out of your own pocket.
And you're going to rub elbows with the elite-- pimps, addicts, thieves, bums, winos, girls who can't keep an address and men who don't care. Liars, cheats, con men-- the class of Skid Row.
And the heartbreak-- underfed kids, beaten kids, molested kids, lost kids, crying kids, homeless kids, hit-and-run kids, broken-arm kids, broken-leg kids, broken-head kids, sick kids, dying kids, dead kids. The old people nobody wants-- the reliefers, the pensioners, the ones who walk the street cold, and those who tried to keep warm and died in a $3 room with an unventilated gas heater.
You'll walk your beat and try to pick up the pieces. Do you have real adventure in your soul? You better have, because you're gonna do time in a prowl car. Oh, it's going to be a thrill a minute when you get an unknown trouble call and hit a backyard at 2 in the morning, never knowing who you'll meet-- a kid with a knife, a pill-head with a gun, or two ex-cons with nothing to lose.
And you're going to have plenty of time to think. You'll draw duty in a lonely car, with nobody to talk to but your radio.
Four years in uniform and you'll have the ability, the experience and maybe the desire to be a detective. If you like to fly by the seat of your pants, this is where you belong. For every crime that's committed, you've got 3 million suspects to choose from. And most of the time, you'll have few facts and a lot of hunches. You'll run down leads that dead-end on you. You'll work all-night stakeouts that could last a week. You'll do leg work until you're sure you've talked to everybody in the state of California.
And paperwork? You'll write enough words in your lifetime to stock a library. You'll learn to live with doubt, anxiety, frustration. Court decisions that tend to hinder rather than help you. Dorado, Morse, Escobedo, Cahan. You'll learn to live with the District Attorney, testifying in court, defense attorneys, prosecuting attorneys, judges, juries, witnesses. And sometimes you're not going to be happy with the outcome.
But there's also this: there are over 5,000 men in this city, who know that being a policeman is an endless, glamourless, thankless job that's gotta be done.
I know it, too, and I'm damn glad to be one of them."
Thanks. I liked that read...
I liked all those reads. Good stuff here.
That Paul Harvey one was great.
Belive it or not, i was about nine years old before i ever seen a cop.
There was a man, about in his fifties, standing on the corner handing out candy.
I thought he was a tard messing with the children, so i go and get my dad and he explaines to me what a cop was.
I was about twelve, before i seen another cop.
This time it was two younger guys riding around in a city car with a trunk load of candy.
They were laughing and handing out candy to all the little kids in the neighborhood.
See, when i was growing up, the family was a unit, each one taking care of the rest.
We left our keys in our cars and we never locked our doors at night and all the windows were raised
in the summer and always left unlocked.
No one bulked up to you, or atleast it was rare, because they knew they would have the whole family to deal with.
No one stole from you, because if they did, all you had to do was ask around, everybody hated a thief back then, the thief was easy enough to find, and not only did they have to deal with you and your whole family, they had to deal with there own family as well.
Back then, a family knew, if you came a calling, it would be there a$$ most likly too and they dident want that.
Ive seen a couple fathers beat there own kids a$$, hoping that would get them out of hot water with the family that came a calling.
And forget about anyone entering your home uninvited, dident happen.
Why? because they KNEW they would most likly be killed, or get one hell of an a$$ whooping.
Not from one person, but from the whole family.
And if they had a knife or some such, it was over, no questions asked, he would have been dead before he walked 5ft.
Everybody grew there own herb and when the bootlegger came back from a run, he would pop open
a sample of all his product and give ya a taste if you were atleast nine or older.
After school fuctions, all the nine year olds and older would get togeather and go hunting and fishing.
If you were under nine, you went with your father, all the males were in the woods, most days.
Taxes back then was little if any, hell, we even had a maid, lol.
You dident have to pay to go hunting or fishing, like you do now.
On the weekends, everybody would drink and drive as they pleased, going from one house to the other, no one cared, and no one got hurt, that i knew of.
See, we were REALLY free, back then.
Then one day, i go out, and my 175 motor cycle was nowere to be found.
My testosterone kicks in, yep, somebody is fixin to get an a$$ whoopin.
Then my father says something to me he never said before...we'll call the cops, son, thats what people are doing nowadays...humm, not protocal, not how we do things, but i was raised to respect my kin and if dad said thats what to do, i guess he knew what was up.
Sure enough, we call the cops and they have my motorcycle.
We go down to pick it up and im being all cool and sh!t, and i just ask, who stole my bike?
Its none of your business and if you dont leave now, im gonna put you in jail! wtf?
Get up the next day and my bikes gone AGAIN!!!!
Dident call the cops that time, hell, i was just treatened the day before with getting my a$$ thrown in jail. Like i did something.
It all went down hill ever since.
Mom told me never to take candy from a stranger, should have listened....
Not only was the family a tight unit, the whole community was.
Like i said, no one stole from you, if they did, you would have people calling you that you dident even know, sometimes it was even the parents of the thief.
Everyone watched out for you, because they knew when the time came, you would do the same for them.
Everbody had respect for the other man, and you just knew better.
Everbody had guns back then, but you never would take one to a fight, you wouldent even think to take a gun or a knife, you fought like a man, win or lose.
I live in a nice house now, but its not as nice as the house i grow up in and i sure dont have a maid, even tho, i make more money than my father ever did.
See, now, 50/60 percent of my income gos to .gov to pay for useless things like leo wages or to
send aid to the muslims in siri lanka.
You can forget about me taking my kids hunting or fishing, with all the fess associated with it, cant afford it.
I make 3 or 4 times what my father did, but i live in poverty.
The 40 or 50 percent of my money that i take home, some gos to replace sh!t that was stolen the week before.
You can call the cops, but you rarely get sh!t back, and if you find out who stole your sh!t and go kick there a$$, your the one going to jail.
You can lock the doors on your car, but it does little good, people still break in, they know your not going to do nothing or YOU will get thrown in jail.
All the doors are locked to the house as are the windows.
People are more likly to come on in, if you shoot them, your GOING TO JAIL, theres no more REAL deterant to crime.
Back in the day, you come in my house, the cops showed up to collect your body, you dident come in my house uninvited.
Now, you come in my house and take whatever you please, if you get caught, the most thats going to happen, you might spend the night in jail and PAY a fine, not to me, but to the cops, lol.
Im left to pick up the pieces. I can always file a claim with my insurance, another scam, only to have MY rates go up. Cant afford that nowadays. So I take the loss, and the thief robs another house and another house, until he gets caught again.
You can forget about me letting my kids drink a few beers and drive to there friends house, cant do that sh!t nowadays.
And weed? forget about it. Had a friend get caught with a joint and spent 5 years in club fed, not because of the joint, but because he wouldent rat out 7 of his friends, so the leo's could make more $$$
In the day, if you ratted on somebody, you had to leave town, if you get my drift.
The next time you see a cop, be sure to thank him for your freedom and all the crimes they deter.
Of course, thats just my opinon and you know what people say about opinons.
Good post hon.
nice to see something positive for once. Thank you.
waiting for the rabid JBT posse...
Great post. I'm only part-time, and for the last year I've been out of the loop, but I stand behind all of you full-time risk takers. You stand in harms way to keep our families and property safe, again domestic threats. Thank you.
Thank you for caring about the people who risk their lives to serve the public.
To me the Joe Friday bit has some meaning. I remember seeing that when I was a kid and got a kick out of how he spewed out all those names for a cop. I was young, and that entertained me. That's about the only thing I remembered about it. As I got older I saw the rerun again, and thought, 'Yeah well, suck it up Joe". Now that I've been a street cop for over 15 years I read that and it has a lot more meaning. Even though Joe initially said those words when I was a little boy, he pretty much hit the nail on the head for our present decade. Well, minus some of the slang terms.
He's right though, I'm damn glad I'm one of them to!
Thanks for the nostalgic post!
By the way thanks for the new sig line!
Nice and BTT.